| |
Continued:
And then I opened the tub. Not a spray can because that
would have tipped her off—the sound, I mean. No, my imagination was growing
with the re-discovery of my sensuality, and I had planned this. So a little tub
container, so reminiscent of a tub for margarine, and I used a spoon to scoop
out the contents and spread them over her wedge of very fine, blonde pussy
curls. I saw her shudder with the coolness of the substance on her. Whipped
cream. I looked at Tim. He was taking his cues from me now, his cock sliding in
and out of her, keeping her wet, and when I held up my hand, he knew to slow
down for safety’s sake.
Because I was bringing down the blade.
She had wanted me to draw blood.
I wouldn’t, but I was still going to cut her.
I tore off the blindfold, and Sally—Sally who had taken me
in the back of the shop boutique and given me such ecstasy, now my prisoner, my
plaything—strained at her bonds and looked down and felt the safety razor as I
lovingly, tenderly began to shave her pussy.
I lifted the shaver up and let water rinse it in the sink,
and Tim resumed furiously plunging into her, pulling out again.
I let it go on, and then I brought the shaver back down and
made another upward stroke.
‘Eeeeeemmmmph!’ Gritting her teeth, driven to the edge, and
Tim was moving rapidly inside her again. I thought she was going to tear the
bloody sink pipes out of the wall.
The cycle went on until her mound was smooth and hairless,
only a miniscule bit of stubble, and I took the facecloth I had brought down
and washed her. As I looked at Tim’s cock in another feverish pitch of
hammering rapidly in and out of her, I blew a cool breeze over her freshly
shaved skin. ‘Eeeeemmmph! Faith, oh, Faith...’ Calling my name, this girl calling
my name. I liked it.
© Faith Graham
Read a sample chapter
|
