We sat in the warmth of the car and enjoyed the moment. Shielded from the cold wind we watched a lone fisherman untangling a line. Fishing rods were spiked into the sand like sentinels on watch, ready to bend with a strike as they watched the fluorescent floats on top of the water's chop. We guessed that his lunch was in a box which was optimistically large.
Relaxed, we listened to the wind as it whistled around the car. She kicked off her shoes, put her feet up on the dash and adjusted the seat to lay back. More adjustments as she moved her bum forward in the seat, with her knees up and apart. I looked at her red shorts, the fabric so thin and inside the leg I could see the edge of her knickers. She sighed and closed her eyes, content.
On the shelf under the dash I could see a pair of scissors. I looked at her again, her eyes closed, her breaths regular and her shorts so thin. Reaching forward I picked up the scissors and held them, they were new and sharp. I felt them. I moved forward in my seat and again opened the scissor blades. I reached forward and tested their sharpness. They cut the leg of her shorts neatly. I slid the scissors forward and cut more. She lay there, not moving, her breathing regular and her eyes closed.
With my other hand I held the cut edge of the shorts, pulled them away from her and advanced the scissors further. Snip, another snip and I cut through the middle seam. One more advance, one more snip and I positioned the scissors at the other leg. Snip, I advanced them again and snip. With my other hand I pulled the cut edge away from her and with one more snip I'd cut the last.
The bottom part fell from her. I lifted the top part away to reveal her pink knickers. I picked up the fabric of her knickers and cut. Through the hole I'd cut I could see skin. I put my finger in the hole, pulled the fabric away from her and with the scissors cut more. One more snip and I'd cut through the elastic. One side done, I held the cut edge and cut through the other side. With the elastic cut the knickers retracted a little. As with the shorts the bottom piece fell down and I lifted the top away.
Her lips were shaven smooth and above them was a landing strip of hair. I wondered whether the scissors were as efficient with hair as with fabric. But I didn't want hair everywhere either. I thought for a moment, then reached to the shelf below the dash and found sunscreen. I generously coated one side of the scissor blades and reaching forward; snip, I cut a corner of her landing strip.
I saw how all the cut hair stuck to the sunscreen on the scissors. I tried again, using a different part of the scissor blades. All the hair was stuck to the scissor blades. There was still one last part of the scissor blades that hadn't been used so I reached forward and, snip, I used it. I found a box of tissues and with one tissue I wiped the blades clean and recoated them with sunscreen. Snip, snip, snip and I repeated the process. It took six more coats of sunscreen to trim her landing strip, close and even with no more wispy, long hairs.
Her eyes were still closed, her breathing regular, her knees seemed further apart. With a finger I touched the landing strip, it was soft and springy, a rectangle like a miniature bed. I thought of trimming it closer but it looked good now with no errant hairs.
I studied her pussy, the neat line of it between her legs and the protruding flaps. I advanced my finger and felt the contour fall into her slit. I felt the prominence of her clit.