A few years ago I dated a woman who was the lead singer in a fairly ordinary cover band. But she could dance on stage so I had high hopes for her in the bedroom. The first time we had sex I got her naked and much to my surprise she had the most unruly bush I've ever come across. I tried my best to go down on her but I've got a tongue not a weedwacker, so I moved up. Much to my disappointment the sex was awful. She thrashed beneath me like a fish flopping on the dock of a boat. I thought maybe shed be better suited on top given her dance moves so I rolled her on top of me. Nope. Evidently go-go dancing doesn't translate to sex. She ground on top of me with the grace of a half drunk circus bear. We went out a few more times. I thought maybe she just had an off night (we all do from time to time). Uh-uh. So I stopped seeing her. About six months later I found myself at a club where they were performing. Between sets she whispered in my ear that she got a wax. Intrigued to find out if any other feedback had been taken to heart I left with her after the show. We got back to mine and were quickly naked. She hadn't gotten a wax. Landing strip style. However her waxer had failed to trim the length of the strip (gross professional negligence IMO). It looked like a Mohawk. I couldn't follow through. The whole time I kept thinking I'm fucking Mr. T's pussy. I hear she's married now and all I can say is 'I pity the fool'.