This is for all the devoted fans of Lesbian Army Life, who pleaded and requested more…enjoy!
Smith and I had grown together as a couple more than we could have imagined that first day when we had been thrown together in barracks. Smith and I now fit together as buddies, comrades and lovers. We went to sleep each night sucking each other out, we often woke in the night and rocked ourselves back to sleep with our regulation Army issue dildo, and when Smith woke promptly at 5.07am each morning (a lifetime habit, apparently), she shook the morning heebie jeebies out of me by squeezing my tits as a prelude to another round of delectable fucking.
There had been plenty of bad sex in my life, and nothing, simply nothing, as good as what I had been getting the last 21 days and nights. Far from feeling tired and worn out though, I was invigorated, energised, in a constant state of tingling arousal and anticipation. Sometimes I found that I had to break off whatever I was doing, be it polishing my boots, or waxing the leather harness that held our chickdicks and seek release, from my own hands if alone, or preferably with Smith sucking and fucking with me.
Saturday morning three weeks later, and we were called on Parade before sunrise. Smith and I were half way towards cumming, but knew we had to rush into our fatigues, pull on our leather boots and be present for Parade. We arrived just in time and then our CO, my cousin Kristy-Anne, began to bark orders. We stumbled through our drills as the sun began to spread its first weak beams across the parade ground.
Immediately after Parade it was haircut time. I usually went Wednesday and Saturday for a touch up shave around my ears and up the back of my neck. The only difference now was that I was beginning to tan in these hitherto unexposed places, and the crisp ‘white walls' were disappearing. I was soooo wet for the feel of stubble that I had an orgasm every time the barber turned on the clippers! Initially Smith had resisted the weekly barber shop visit – in the first couple of weeks she still missed her long hair. She said she felt more exposed and naked with her buzzcut than she did with her pantyless cunt in my face! But as she got used to being in my face, she too began to look forward to the hum and buzz of the clippers. This was major fetish territory we had entered, all thanks to the Army.
This week I had decided to get Smith's pussy shaved. Not only had I never made love with another woman until 3 weeks ago, nothing would have been further from my mind in that other fast-receding life than believing I would desire a woman with a bald pussy! But the last few days and nights I had thought of little else. Now I had experienced the pleasure of sliding my tongue along the smooth inner folds of her rose petal cunt lips, what would it feel like running my tongue over a smooth bare mound? What would the sight be like of her tantalising bud, the hood peeled back, the glistening tiny orb standing red and proud? And then, what would it feel like in a week, rasping my tongue over the stubbly regrowth?
I was lost in these thoughts, feeling the humid wetness spreading between my legs when I sensed that Kristy-Anne had dismissed the company and Smith was standing breast to breast with me her sweet breath blowing gently in my ear as she whispered "An orgasm for your thoughts!"
I grabbed her immediately and pulled her across the parade ground to the timber hut housing the barbershop. I sat her on the top step, just as we had done on our first day when she had sobbed for her lost tresses.
"Smith, do you trust me?"
She replied "Honey, we're in the army now. We have learned to be comrades. We have learned to trust each other whole-heartedly. You don't need to ask!"
"Good", I replied, "because I have a surprise for you. But you must trust me entirely." I pulled from my pants pocket a cotton bandana, and placed it over Smith's eyes, then tied it at the back of her head, blindfolding her.
Smith merely sighed and placed her small soft hands on my hips as I stood in front of her. She leaned forward so that her nose was nudging into the v between my legs. She started laughing as she detected dampness, and sniffed in my scent of arousal…
I pulled Smith to her feet, guided her to an about face and opened the door at the top of the step. It lead directly into the barbershop. Over in the corner the head barber was busying herself with cutthroat razors and leather strops, sharpening the tools for the Saturday influx. I could see her checking the various clippers arrayed along the benches, and the different comb attachments. Nattrass was the name of the barber –a Staff Sergeant with a well-defined, muscular body. It was rumoured that her torso, arms and legs were covered with tattoos, but none of the recruits had ever seen an indication as her limbs were always completely covered whenever we were in her domain. What was distinctive and extraordinary was that she shaved her head all over (mmmmmmmm), but on her chin sported a small goatee beard! I had elderly aunts back home who developed facial hair in old age, but I had never seen a woman in what must have been her early 30's with a beard. I wondered whether she took male hormones.
Nattrass looked up and saw us reflected in the mirror. She opened her mouth to bark an order when she saw Smith was blindfolded. I pushed Smith into the large red barber's chair and put my index finger to my mouth to indicate to Nattrass a complicity of silence, and at the same time approached her on the other side of the room. I stood to attention and saluted.
Nattrass indicated I should stand easy, and in silence raised a quizzical eyebrow. In response, I pointed to one of the cutthroat razors and then to Smith. Nattrass followed my gesticulations, and then broke into a broad grin when I went and stood next to Smith, pointed to her cunt and mimed a lathering up and shaving motion. She dipped her head in conspiratorial assent.
I leant over and kissed Smith behind her ears, then trailed kisses down her neck and eventually onto her lips. Smith was such a great kisser and always managed to intensify my desire just via contact with her mouth and tongue. As I was kissing her, Nattrass lowered the large leather barber's chair and titled it back and then taking Smith's wrists, placed them in clamps which attached to the sides of the chair.
Smith winced slightly and pulled against the cuffs, but Nattrass was smoothly fixing matching clamps around her ankles. I placed my hand over Smith's mound and stroked it through her khaki trousers, knowing Smith, against Army routine, would have neglected to put on underwear. Smith had confided to me that she adored the feel of the heavy cotton twill seam against her clit and cunt; it helped keep her aroused all day. It also left a moist slick which hardened after a few days into a crusty residue on her trousers which she pushed my nose in to when she undressed at night. It always made me even hornier, and meant each night started once more with a fuck-scene.