[spicycurrypuff]

Of course, I started touching myself. I learnt how to touch myself so that I got little tingles of shiokness. I didn’t orgasm but the stroking and touching brought immense pleasure.

And I started asking myself questions. Do they touch themselves? Do they have these thoughts? Do girls also have pubic hair?

I started looking at the floors when girls walked by. Peeking at their chairs when they got up. Walking over areas where girls ran during PE lessons.

Just to satisfy that innate curiosity. About girls. About hair. About myself.

Then one day, while cleaning the class floor. Yes, I was in charge of the floor. You know. The duties that everyone in the class has during the end of the year clean-up. I did the floor. Not the most glam but it’s definitely better than cleaning the windows or wiping the shelves. The secondary school floors were usually concrete grey back then. As long no visible signs of dust and dirt, confirm pass.

I saw it.

Not the long strands of silky shampooed hair. Not the combed-out tresses from the class ah-lians and minahs.

A single, wavy, short, brownish strand of hair.

And so that’s where it began.

The loss of my innocence.

From a strand of............pubic hair.