The following is collaborative effort between my friend Becky and me. We hope you enjoy it . . .
*
Becky stepped from the shower and walked into the master bedroom. Her body sparkled in the candlelight that lit the room. A moonbeam, streaming in through the open french doors, danced on the silver chain that encircled her neck, and draped lazily across the start of her enticing cleavage. The two, played with the diamond tennis bracelet that graced her right wrist.
She paused: taking in her lover, stretched out naked on their queen-sized bed. Her gaze settled on his long, thick cock. She smiled.
The cool night air quickly brought her nipples to full attention. She took one, seductive step forward. A slight twinge; back there, reminded her of the incredible fucking her butt had received that afternoon. Another smile.
Sam patted the bed next to him. Becky accepted the invitation and curled up next to him with her head resting on his thigh. She looked into his eyes, then moved forward and took him into her mouth. She hollowed her cheeks and began to bob up and down on his still-flaccid cock. It was a play she had performed often. One that she relished.
"Oh god, Beck!"
Becky released her love. Her tongue followed his length: from the base to the crown. Warm kisses retraced the trail. She licked, kissed, sucked his balls. Her fingertips drifted over his now moist skin.
A school girl's giggle escaped her lips.
She took him in her mouth once again. Her tongue swirled over him. His cock was approaching its full length and girth. She shifted her position and took him deep into her mouth. With a stilted, jerky motion she moved over him. Her tongue was everywhere. Her lips were molded to him.
Sam drew a short breath. Another. And another.
"Oh Becky!"
She smoothed and quickened her pace. Faster, she bobbed up and down. Faster still.
Sam's breathing became labored as his orgasm neared.
Becky recognized the signs, and decided to exploit the moment. Without warning, she released him from her mouth and began to masturbate him. Her grip was light; but expert. With each stroke, her pace quickened. The whole of her attention was focused on the (ahem) task at hand.
"Beck . . . Becky . . . please . . ."
She stroked his cock even faster. The first spurt of cum jetted across his abs and chest. As did the second. Third. Fourth. She milked the last from him. "You look good covered in your own cum." she said, "But letting all that salty liqueur go to waste seems such a shame. Don't you agree?"
"What . . . do you . . . have in mind?" Sam asked, cumming down from his orgasm.
His lover scooped a finger-full of cum and lifted it to her lips. She raised an eyebrow, then extended her tongue and licked her finger clean. "I'd say a nice tongue bath is in order . . ."
Becky lay back, sinking into the pile of pillows and slowly spread her legs. Sam knelt next to her, picked up the first silk scarf, moved aside her bracelet, then fastened the scarf around her wrist. A gentle tug held it fast. He moved from the bed and guided her bound limb up and out, toward the far corner of the headboard of the brass bed, then secured it there. He picked up the second scarf and repeated move for move.
Sam sat down next to his restrained lady and gently caressed her pussy. "Are you ready?" he asked.
Becky looked down at the dense mat of golden curls covering her mons. Sam slipped one, then three fingers inside her pussy and cradled her clit. "Yes." she said softly.
"Sure?"
"Yes."
"Okay, babe."
Sam removed his fingers from her warm wetness. A light kiss to her forehead. He reached out, and tossed back the towel covering the tray he'd placed on the night stand moments earlier, and picked up the scissors. "Last chance." he said.
Nervously, Becky shook her head "no". Sam pinched together a small tuft of her pubic curls and pulled them taught. Gently, he pressed the cold steel of the blades against her mound and began to shear. One by one, the hairs yielded to the scissors. As each tuft surrendered, Sam laid it on her plump middle.
Becky watched as the downy pile grew, and grew. With childlike wonder, she marveled at how much hair covered her mons. How little surrounded her labia.
Sam continued to snip-away her maiden-curls. Becky drew a quick breath as she felt the blades brush against her outer lips. She held it. With great care, Sam trimmed-away the sparse curls that stood guard over her tender lips. She let it out as he turned his attention to the dozen or so rogues that crept down her inner thighs.
A smile crept across Sam's face. "This is really turning you on, isn't it?" he said.
"No." she lied.
He ran his middle finger along her slit, collecting the sweet nectar that was starting to seep from her. "Then what brought this on?" he asked, offering her a taste.
Becky hungrily accepted her own juices. "Brought what on?" she said with a smile.
Sam shook his head, then retrieved the washcloth from the basin and wrung it. He shook out the cloth and covered her fresh stubble. The moist heat brought her arousal to a new level; one she had not expected.
"Ready?" he asked.
She nodded.
Sam picked up the can of shaving gel (for sensitive skin) and gave it a shake. Without saying a word, he removed the washcloth, then dispensed a small amount of the cool, blue gel onto his fingertips. Using a circular motion, he massaged it into her mound. Together, they watched as the gel transformed to its creamy state. Sam smiled at Becky's fascination. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine what the finished product would look like.
"Beck? Hold very, very still." His voice brought her back to the moment. Timidly, she opened her eyes. With a feathery touch, he drew the razor up – from the point that her labia met her mons – to that indistinct line where her maiden hair fade to nothingness. Pass after pass radiated outward. The strokes were slow. Languid.
He urged her legs wider apart. Using his thumb, he drew the flesh of her inner thigh taught, and drew the blade toward her now-swollen pussy lips. Each stroke had a surgical precision to it.
"Have I ever told you how much I love your pussy?" Sam asked.
"Once . . . or twice."
Sam placed a fresh blade in the razor and applied more of the gel. Reversing his tack, he began round two. As slowly, and methodically as before, he moved the blades over her every curve and contour.
Becky couldn't believe how wet she had becum. She knew it wouldn't take much to push her over the edge. Sam knew it too.
"There!" he said proudly, "Now it's time to clean you up a bit."
The warm washcloth felt good against her now-naked flesh. The gentle bating felt good as well, but only added frustration to her desire to cum. Becky needed an orgasm. Desperately.
"Sam?" she said softly, "I . . . would you . . ."
"Yes?"
"I really need . . . "
He slipped three fingers inside her pussy and pressed against her clit.
"Oh god!" she cried.
Involuntarily, Becky began humping Sam's fingers. Wave after wave of orgasm washed over her . . .
Becky lay there, still naked and tied, and watched as Sam fastened, then zipped his shorts. She started to speak; but didn't. Sam finished buttoning his shirt. "Are you ready for the rest of your fantasy to come true?" he asked, "It's not to late to change your mind."
Her heart pounded. Her palms began to sweat. The reality of it all began to settle in. Her mind raced. She thought back to the night Sam had coaxed her into revealing her dark desire. To the day he offered to make her wistful dream cum true. It was now or never.
"I'm ready." she said, a hint of hesitation in her voice.
"You're not convincing me." Sam said, "Are you doing this for me; or for yourself?"
"For me." she replied confidently.
"You sure?"
"Yes.
"Sam," she began, "before you, the only other person – man or woman – I had ever been with, was my ex, Owen. With him, sex was something that took place once a week; lasted less than fifteen minutes; was done with the lights out; him on top and me on my back. Wham bam thank you ma'am. That was it. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine how much fun it could be spending an entire day making love. You showed me that. You taught me that it's okay to explore my, carnal side. Yes. I want to do this."
Sam bent down and lightly kissed her lips. He looked into her eyes and smiled. "I must say, it's a little hard to take you seriously right now." he began, "what with you naked; tied to the bed like this. But . . . Okay." Another kiss. "I'll be right back."
Becky eased into the pillows. They enveloped her. She tested her bounds. To no surprise, the scarves refused to yield. Slowly, she brought her legs together, then lifted her head and stared at her freshly-shaved pussy. It looked, odd. She was overwhelmed with an urge to reach down and touch it; feel it. She tried, but the scarves intervened.
She waited. Time lost all meaning. Her thoughts began to drift. To the first time she saw Owen naked. It was their honeymoon. To the first time that he fucked her. The same night. To the first time she had seen Sam naked. The one month anniversary of their first date. To that evening, which they spent making love.
Two quick, soft raps on the bedroom door brought her back to the moment.
"Hey babe." Sam said.
More from reflex than anything else, Becky tried to cover herself. Unfortunately, or not, her silk bounds thwarted the effort.
"Beck? I'd like you to meet KC."
Her eyes widened as Sam's former business partner stepped through the doorway.
"Hello, Rebecca." he said.
Becky could not take her eyes off the very handsome, very young, KC. How young? Thirty; maybe thirty-five, she guessed. As for the rest? Height? Six foot. Weight? One hundred eighty pounds. Eyes? The darkest shade of brown. Hair? Coal black; trimmed short. How was he dressed? In of all things: a navy, pin-striped suit!
"Hello." was all she could manage to say to the much-younger man.
"You're even more beautiful than Sam had lead me to believe." he said.
"Thank you."
KC took off his jacket, gathered it lengthwise, and laid it on the dresser. Holding Becky's gaze, he removed his tie, then tossed it atop his jacket. Staring intently into her eyes, he approached, unbuttoning first, his cuffs, then, the top three buttons of his shirt. He sat down next to her and gently kissed her lips. The tip of his tongue begged entrance. She granted. Unhurriedly, it probed and explored her mouth. She started to reciprocate. He pulled back.
"No, Rebecca." he said, "I'm here to fulfill your fantasy. Not one of my own."
Becky wanted to protest: to say that returning favors received was something she enjoyed doing; but didn't. Instead, she lay silent and watched, as KC stood and removed the remainder of his clothing. All, save his cream colored boxer-shorts. Again, he sat down next to her.
Another kiss. More exploration by his tongue.
A diversion?
