0 comments/ 117425 views/ 5 favorites Smooth By: Ulyssa Dedicated to my dear friends "Jane" and "Cock." * * * * * Jane first saw the silent man with the shaved head at her own engagement party at her fiancée's mansion, and Jane knew instinctively how much she wanted that man from the very moment she saw him. His piercing dark brown almost black eyes captured her attention immediately, although she had to admit that the rest of him would have kept anyone's eyes enthralled to his thin muscular body for a long time. Arthur Stoddard and Jane Betts had been standing in the midst of family, friends, well-wishers, co-workers and everyone else's significant others, while "dark eyes" seemed to skirt the edge of the room nodding an occasional brief exchange with some other person. Yet, whenever Jane glanced back toward him, his deep, dark eyes consistently returned her questioning look with an obviously covetous answer. Time and again she tried unsuccessfully to break away from the little bridal clique from Arthur's father's office which had been clinging to Arthur and Jane as if the two of them were some sort of emotional lifejacket. Finally, on her fifth try, Jane broke away only to lose sight of him in the nooks, crannies, hallways and doorways of that great big house. Damn. Why hadn't he introduced himself to the bride to be? Jane hadn't been so sure that she wanted to get married, but everybody told her what a great catch Arthur was, and how lucky she would be to marry into all that Stoddard money. Besides, they told Jane, she couldn't pass up this opportunity. "I feel like I'm applying for a job," Jane told one friend. "Maybe I should update my resume first." "Don't be so critical," the friend replied. "You'll be great together." Jane held back telling her friend that she'd already been a bit disappointed with Arthur in that capacity. Still he was charming, and most of her acquaintances felt that his money would more than make up for any inadequacies. Besides Arthur swore up and down that he loved Jane for better or for worse, if only she'd give him the chance to prove it. "Have you seen that new guy circulating through the house," Jane asked Julianne, one of her bridesmaids elect. "Young guy, gray suit?" "Which one? There's only a dozen of them. Oh, I'll bet you mean one of the college interns." "No. This one's got a shaved head, brown eyes. Tall, handsome...," Jane paused for a second then finished. "...And dark." "Oh that one," Julianne laughed. "I heard he's on some kind of loan from some Canadian company. Some kind of special training assignment or something of the sort." "Oh really. Does he speak with that quaint little 'up north' accent?" "I wouldn't know." Julianne shrugged. "He hasn't spoken a word to me." This time Jane deliberately hunted the mysterious black man down. She found him waiting alone in the Stoddard mansion library. Quickly she closed the double doors behind them. "So here is where you've been hiding from me." "Not hiding," the handsome black man corrected. "Just waiting for you." Jane Betts introduced herself. The mahogany skinned man smiled. His teeth were surprising white and even. He held out his hand. "Cock Smith," he said softly. Jane felt her head and shoulders start at that odd response. "What?" He handed Jane a business card which read David Wincock Smith. "Cock Smith?" Now she got it. His next question totally floored her. "Jane, if I asked you point blank to come back to my hotel with me twenty minutes from now, would you do it?" Biting on her lower lip for just a moment, Jane let her blue green eyes sink into the depths of his brown eyes, before she finally decided. "Yes," she answered. "How long between this engagement party and your wedding?" "Eight weeks." "Have you gone to bed with Arthur?" "That's rather personal, don't you think?" "Knowing what you know about what we might be doing at my hotel, I'd say that we're way beyond worrying about being too personal, Jane." Cock Smith paused. "What did you two do about contraception? Birth control pill?" "I...umm...we used a condom and spermicidal foam." "Very effective," Cock replied. "Do you have any in your purse?" "No." "Good. Because when you meet me at my hotel, we won't be using any at all." Jane felt the redness in her face begin to rise all the way to her forehead. "If that blush creeps any higher, Jane, your golden hair is going to turn strawberry blond. Now I'm asking you again, with the full knowledge of what you're about to do, will you join me at my hotel?" In the light of tomorrow's sun, there would be hundreds of pointed differences between Cock Smith and Jane Betts. But at the moment Jane knew their differences lay in the age old instinctive need for the induction of the male into the female. "Yes," Jane replied again. "In fact, I think I feel a headache coming on. I suspect I'll be leaving this...this affair in a few minutes." "Very well." He stood up and walked toward the library door. "Be at the Hampton Inn by the interstate. I'll be in the north parking lot." Taking the back stairs up to the second floor everything went quickly--even smoothly. Inside room 217, Jane turned her back on her partner in order to undress. She felt that this would insure less of a chance of her chickening out and bolting from his hotel room. When she turned back Jane discovered that his head wasn't the only thing which he'd shaved. Her eyes went wide as she looked over the dark man's brown black body. Cock Smith had a total absence of body hair, underarm hair and even pubic hair for that matter. All she could think of was, "Oh my lord!" The suddenly her mouth formed an unexpected word: "Yummy." She noticed that when he took his first look at her body, David Wincock Smith broke into a huge admiring smile. "I see you're surprised." She nodded her head. "Absolutely astounded." "Good. I was counting on that." Cock held out his hand and reached toward her. But he deliberately waited until Jane decided to cross the room and come to him. She walked over to the light switch first. "No, leave it on, bride-to-be. I want to be able to watch you while I fuck you." He stood totally naked waiting for her, his jet black erection growing steadily as she stared at his midsection. David's large hand continued to extend outstretched toward her. Equally naked and exhaling anxiously, Jane padded obediently over on her bare feet and took Cock Smith's hand. "Good girl. Now I want you to lay down here next to me, so you can examine every single inch of my body." Once they'd sprawled across the bed, Jane found her fingers slowly gliding over the smooth hairless flesh on this exotic specimen of a black man. Time and again she would scrutinize him from different positions. She brought her eyes, her fingertips, her nose, and her lips down very close to every part of his body to inspect every single spot where he may have missed removing body hair. "How did you do it?" David chuckled. "The hair remover stuff on television really works on me." "As much as I hate to ask you to hide this," Jane said as she caressed his long dark erection. "I need to have you roll over on your stomach." Deliniated along his shoulder blade was a lengthy red and green tattoo of an exotic Near-Eastern Oriental style of dragon. Thin and etheric, the dragon seemed to be perfectly a part of him. Jane traced the design carefully with her index finger. "This is beautiful." "Tiamat. She's Sumerian and a good luck charm," David said. "You might say she's my fertility symbol." Jane giggled uneasily. "And why might I say that?" "Because the last two woman to caress Tiamat with the same care and enthusiasm which you're using turned out to be very fertile indeed. They both got pregnant." Jane paled. She looked up into Cock's eyes with some trepidation. Then when she saw a big impish grin creep across his face, she sighed in relief. "You are so full of it!" Cock shrugged. "Maybe a little." As if a signal were given between them, they stopped laughing. Jane's slow careful fingering of David's body was more than enough to make her wet and ardent herself. Though there wasn't a great deal of subtlety in Cock Smith's impatient up front approach, Jane Betts hadn't requested tenderness. Now fully prepared to guide her paramour's large, thick penis into place with her hand, Jane squirmed next to David until he crawled carefully atop of her, and oriented his bluntly extended dick until he lodged firmly into the moistened opening she provided. Cock Smith prodded strategically until first his wide glans pushed into place, and then the rest of his thickly erected black cock slid sufficiently into Jane's now warm and supple sheathing to attain full penetration of the pale blond white woman beneath him. Clasp. At maturity a woman encourages the man of her choice to exchange physical intimacy for pure release. Jane's arms and legs wrapped securely around Cock Smith to cradle him closely to her. Her breasts, abdomen, and torso cushioned the weight of his deep mahogany colored body. Her lips and mouth stretched upward to seek out his lips to share in the pleasure of their togetherness. Inevitably her loins enveloped even more of the strong, prodding erection of this man, her new lover--her black lover. Something about that thought made Jane's mind shiver. But out loud, she managed only to loose a soft moan. Her nose was very close to his nostrils and mouth, and Jane found an unusual pleasure in rebreathing his expelled air. Even laying beneath him, her hands clutched eagerly along the contours of his shoulders, exploring rippling muscles and even some cartilage and bone in soothing stimulation. But, of course, the most vivid stimulation Jane endured emanated deeply from elsewhere. Sensing that his breathing had become isolated from hers, that his rough, uneven panting alternated with her own gasping, while his strong vibrant heartbeat quickened, pounding out his own chest rhythms in counterpoint to her own. Jane allowed her concentration to focus on her new found awareness of what was happening between them. This self-awareness spread out along the surface of her pale skin, so that Jane could feel droplets of sweat rolling from the perspiring body of her dark skinned lover. The drips spilled down to fill a small pond around her naval. All this wetness and more would ultimately soak into the sheets underneath them. All this wetness--and more! Jane thought. More! Oh, my God. Totally cognizant of the hands and arms of the man who held her closely, Jane Betts surrendered. Gentle, yet strong against her shoulders and back, his hands were the part of the limits of her universe at that moment. Very intensely, they gripped her, holding her to him in order to keep both of their bodies anchored securely. But, most of all, they were conscious of the fact that within the healthy framework which formed the basis for their ardent bodies' response to a shared passion, they were intoxicated by each other's strength and softness. The experience that was man thrusted and churned within woman, nearly wallowing in the warmth and wetness that her supple loins provided. Although they were counting on their systems interacting for the pure pleasure of the moment, as two human beings, Jane sensed that she could not separate the act which gives such pleasure from the other act which brings such primal significance. Quickly her hand went to the curious texture of the tattoed dragon on David's back. She stroked that symbol engraved in his skin again and again. Could such nonsense as a fertility symbol be true? No! She needed to save such notions for her husband to be, and this was not her husband to be. Thank God for that. Cock felt much too good. Conjoin. Release. Conjoin. Release! Conjoin! Release! Jane remained quiet as her African Canadian partner began to quake with a long tremble that seemed to run the entire length of his body. Stiffening penumbulently, he bucked, bending oddly up and away from her for a moment. Yet, pulling her torso very tightly against his own, Cock Smith lurched with his hips back, laid her back down flat against the bed, and, in an obvious relinquishment of his self-control, slammed down against her belly quickly two, three, and then four times. With her black paramour plunging rapidly into her eager pussy several times in quick succession, Jane found herself pinned against the bedding, sheathing his penetration as deeply as the two of them could manage. Opening her eyes, Jane looked up to watch the straining muscles in David's face construe themselves into a taut grimace. Then she heard the silence broken for the first time in many minutes, when Cock gasped. A short slip of a wheezing breath accompanied his sharp guttural grunt, and suddenly the tension in his facial muscles, arms and torso begin to slacken, just as his lungs and vocal cords expelled a long, pent-up sob of relief. Her right hand leaped to the bumpy texture of Cock's dragon tattoo, fertility symbol or not she dug her fingers into his dark skin there. Fertility symbol? Yes! Jane Bett's heart thumped wildly within her chest, as Cock Smith slumped limply atop of her. A throbbing surge of intensity prodded her deep within, while his wet heat splashed and pooled sporadically inside her. The curious odor of liquid masculinity slowly wafted up to her nostrils as Jane felt him give way to his final shudders. The son of many generations of African heritage, this Canadian stranger had just enjoyed much of the experience that was truly her, while Jane experienced much much more of what there was yet to be released from him. What were the facts? Had Jane, as a caucasian woman, selected this black man or had Cock Smith selected her? Somehow everything that just happened to her brought to mind a point that wasn't quite clear yet. Consciously Jane's hands went back to the ravishing tattoo of Tiamat once again. Arthur Stoddard was out, she knew that now. David Wincock Smith was in--Oh, God, was he ever in! Jane Betts rubbed his tattoo possessively with her right hand. "Mine," she murmured. "You're mine, all mine." Though she could hardly catch her breath, Jane began kissing him all over his smooth neck and face. Then Jane panted into David's ear: "Cock Smith, how 'bout we do this again?" "Can you wait for another two minutes or so?" "Sure," she whispered. "I might even wait three. Hey, are you married?" "Not yet. When I get married, my wife will have to have her entire body shaved." "Her head shaved too?" "Only during pregnancy--probably from her second or third month until she delivers the baby. What do you say to that, Jane Betts?" Jane stayed silent for a moment. "I'd better buy a really good razor." Then she began giggling uncontrollably. "Will I like your hometown?" "I don't know how they'll take to a bald-headed woman back in Winnepeg, but you'll like the city. Windiest city in North America, you know. But a pretty good place to raise children." "And how many children do you have?" "I wasn't going to tell you just yet." Jane frowned. "How many, David?" "That's going to depend entirely upon my bald headed wife, Jane," David answered. "But any number the mother of my children declares will be considered a permanent verbal contract which we'll both have to live with." "You mean if your bald headed wife said, three children..." "Then we'll have three children," he answered. "Wow." he murmured. The fact that any children Jane might have by this man would not have the same heritage that she grew up knowing was now irrelevant. Their children would symbolize a more universal celebration of human kind. Whether those children were somewhere in the near or distant future, Jane couldn't tell. "Five." "Hmm?" "I've decided on five. What do you think, Mr. Smith?" "I think you're liable to have a very bald head over the next several years, Ms. Betts." She put her finger to his lips. "No, the name is Smith. Mrs. Jane Smith." Smooth Master's fist grew tight in my long hair as his fingers traced my shaven cunt. His demands were difficult but not complicated, and I was always afraid when he took the time to inspect me after my cleansing rites. Scrubbed spotless top to bottom, front to back, inside and out, hair in a neat Dutch braid down the back, and all other trace of hair erased- he didn't care how, so long as I was smooth. That's where I most often failed him, and he had beaten me for it, berated me, caned my hands and feet... More often, he'd find some tiny offending patch of stubble and simply look into my eyes with a scowl of disappointment, or even worse, a sneer of disgust. I knew I wasn't perfectly shaven this day. I had tried for hours. Hot bath soak, chemical depilatory, razor, electric razor, then razor again, until my skin was red, and tiny points of blood showed for all my efforts, and still, my fingertips could find tiny traces of soft whispery velvet. He knew it too, and I was shocked but not surprised when he yanked me around toward him, snarling, and forced my cheek to the floor next to his boot. "Do you know the rules, gyrl?" His voice a rumbling baritone growl, so low that I had to strain to hear his words. I nodded vigorously against the floor, wincing and whimpering at the grip he still held on my hair, and the rough floor against my cheek. "How is a slave to present herself to me?" I took a moment to answer, and was sure he'd beat me, but he was still and rigid against me as iron. "HOW?" "Clean, Master. Spotless. And smooth. Perfectly smooth." "Do you know what smooth means, gyrl," he asked, his voice low once more, growing sadistically sweeter at my sweat, and the tears that had escaped onto my cheeks. I only nodded. "I begin to think that maybe you don't," he said, smiling at his own thought and jerking me upright on my knees to face him. He was crouched casually, his free hand draped loosely over his right knee. "I'm thinking it's about time I showed you. Submission," he commanded, dropping my hair, and pointing firmly at the floor. I assumed the position, my bare ass high, arms outstretched to either side so that my big chest pressed against the floor, along with the side of my face. Master stalked off to the bathroom and made some noisy preparations I couldn't see. When he returned, he took me again by the hair and dragged me, crawling, into the bathroom, and my heart sank at what I saw. He'd gotten out the electric clippers, scissors, shaving cream, razor, and his sharpest knife, and they were laid out on a towel on the toilet seat lid. My head grew dizzy, and I fell forward as he simultaneously threw me to the cold tile floor, smacking my head with a dull clank against the porcelain toilet's foot. Only a second passed. When I opened my eyes, it was to Master's boot beside me, Master's fist in my hair, yanking me up hard onto my knees once more, to see the scissors poised in his right hand and the most vicious grin he'd ever worn spread wide across his beautiful, evil face. He said nothing as he pulled my long braid taught and sheered it off where it met the back of my head. I sobbed, but he didn't even give me a moment to recover. "Hold this," he growled, placing the severed braid in my hands, "And keep it neat. I told you I'd beat you with it if it ever came off your head, and that is exactly what I plan to do. Now, sit high, chin up, and hold still." I held the braid as best I could, but keeping still was harder. I was sobbing and shaking harder than I'd known I could as I heard the clack and the weird buzz of the electric shears coming to life. I wanted to struggle, but he'd left me unbound, to force me to submit to my punishment willingly. He and I both knew my safeword- I could have stopped him, but the power of his hands, the power of his voice- the sensation of being completely and totally owned- overwhelmed me, and he knew it. The harder he was on me, the more completely I belonged to him, and right at that moment, he knew that there was absolutely nothing I wouldn't endure if it pleased him. My red hair fell around me in clumps, on my shoulders, my breasts, and the floor, and he almost giggled as he ran his hand across the strawberry blonde velvet that remained. I had already closed my eyes, unable to watch the last shred of my pride shorn away so easily, and without a fight. The whole act was symbolic. It was his to take if it pleased him, and forcing me to sit, unshackled, unresisting, while he took it was the final fetter locking my soul to his fist and his boot and his cock. I heard the schoosh of the shaving cream, felt it cold against my scalp, then the razor, scraping away the stubble, pausing to rinse in the sink... By the time the blade of his knife pressed against my skull, I had stopped shaking and sobbing, my tears flowed silently from still-closed eyes. I half expected to feel the bite of his steel, but then the knife was gone too. "Turn around. Spread your knees." I moved slowly, but immediately, my eyes shut tight, and could almost feel him smiling at his handiwork. He took the braid from me and laid it aside. "Hands on your head." I smothered a tight sob and did as I was told, bare fingers lacing almost confused across cool, bare scalp. "THAT," he said, "is smooth. Now thank me for teaching you, slut. Open your eyes, and kiss my cock." He'd laced his big cock through his fly, not bothering to lower his pants, and I leaned forward, still crying, to press grateful flickering kisses along it's length, whispering and whimpering tiny thanks and praise, then tried to take him in my mouth, but his warm hand pushed me back. "You haven't earned that. You don't deserve to suck my cock tonight, little cunt. Besides, I haven't finished the lesson." With that, he pushed his foot farther between my spread thighs, and lifted it just slightly so that I could feel the brush of it's leather against my wet slit. "Up," he told me, and pressed it upward until it was resting against the edge of the toilet seat, with me astride it like a hobbyhorse. "Ride my boot, slut. Hump it like a horny little bitch in heat." Master chuckled as I blushed a deep shade of red right down to my nipples. Neither of us knew I could blush at anything anymore. He took his cock in hand and propped his hips against the sink, stroking steadily while I rubbed my now-soaked pussy against his boot. When he felt I wasn't eager enough, he reached out and took one nipple between his fingertips, squeezing it until I let out a sharp cry at the pain. I doubled my efforts. If I didn't know before what I had become, tonight, there wasn't a trace of doubt. I was his, whatever he wanted me to be- his whore or his bitch, or his crawling begging fuck-slut, and just knowing it almost made me cum. I bucked against his boot while he stroked, groaning and grunting, desperately hungry to be fucked by the cock in his hand, or by the hand itself, or by anything at all. "Please, Master- please! Fuck your bitch! She'll be good- please Master! Anything! Just fuck me!" He grinned and laughed at my outburst, but then shoved his boot hard against my cunt, smashing my aching clit. "Bitches don't talk," he sneered, "whine for me slut. Buck those big hips of yours. But don't you even THINK of cumming, understand?" He shoved the boot against me again, rocking in time with his quickening strokes, and I could tell he was getting close himself, so I worked even harder to please him with my hungry moans and whimpers, reaching up and pinching my pierced nipples hard enough to make myself scream. I felt myself start to climax, and tried to ride that crest, when suddenly he yanked his foot back dropping me to the floor, and I fell face first against the tile again. Master lifted his foot, placing his boot-sole against my shoulder, and I felt the first spatter of his hot cum on my newly shaved scalp. "Open your mouth," he commanded, and I did as I was told, as he poured his sticky cum all over my head, to watch it drip slowly down my forehead to my outstretched tongue. "That," he said, "is smooth." I awoke to the sharp, tight pain of Master's fist in my hair, and the clack and buzz of the electric clippers. He knocked the towel and shaving gear to the floor, bending me over the porcelain, then rammed his big, hard cock unceremoniously up my ass, jerking my head back by the long braid he still held me by, then leaned in close enough to growl his threat into my ear... "Get it right," he snarled in time to his thrusts, "get it RIGHT, or I will shave your head as smooth as your tits, and polish your scalp with my cum, understand?" Oh yes, Master. More than you know. Smooth Hung over. It was 5pm when my eyes finally opened. The throbbing in my head was so bad that I would gladly pay someone to take a jackhammer to my head if it would mask the pain. Once the haze lifted, the room came into picture. It was unfamiliar for a second before the panic attack set in. I was in HIS place! We had spent the night out drinking a lot. There were five of us. We went out for karaoke and drinks at a local bar. The fun lasted all the way into the morning. We had somehow walked to some place and I do not remember how I got into his bed. I instinctively looked for my clothes, made sure I had every piece of clothing on before I got out of the covers. I was about to call out, but I wasn't even sure he was home. I felt stupid. I quietly walked out into the living room and towards the door. "Sleep well?" I almost let out a scream. I hadn't expected him to be there. I actually had no idea what I expected. I turned around, suddenly blushing furiously. I was embarrassed and scared at the same time. I didn't have full recollection of the night. I so wanted to know. I didn't want him thinking that I was a stupid slut. I wouldn't normally have cared. It was just him. I did care what he thought of me. He was standing there with ruffled hair, a faded grey tee and sweatpants. He had a day old beard. There was a coffee mug in his hand. He was looking at me slightly amused. His eyes had a soft gaze. I thought they wandered below my shoulder quickly before connecting with my eyes. He was waiting for me to respond. "I did. Where are the rest of them?" I asked. "We dropped them off yesterday night, don't you remember?" "Oh yeah.. right!" I pretended. "I should probably get home now, see you later?" "Cool!" he waved casually. I hung my head and quickly got out of his door. I wanted so badly to know what happened. What if I was bad? Why would he say 'cool'? Did that mean that he didn't like it? Did I fall asleep before doing anything? Did we do anything at all? I tried to smell my clothes to see if there was atleast a trace of his aftershave. Nothing. I told myself to calm down. What was the worst that could have happened? My thoughts wandered away. I imagined his perfectly toned body over mine. His lips brushing against mine. His hands holding my waist and slowly sliding up my shirt. His day old beard against my collar as he kissed my neck... "You dropped your keys!" My neighbor called behind me. I snapped out of my day dream and thanked him politely. I let out a sigh and told myself that I needed a long shower. My roommate stepped out of the tub as I walked into the bathroom. I could see water from her hair trickle into her cleavage. She grabbed her robe and wrapped it around her. "You don't look too good" "I think I spent the night at his place" I replied smugly without looking at her in the eye. "Tell me all about it!!" She took my hand and hurried me into the bedroom. --- It was past 9pm. I had downed 4 mugs of coffee and finished my shower. My roommate and me had been over every single possibility. I could still not get over it. My thoughts kept going back to him. I suddenly realized that I was feeling very aroused. I looked down my shirt. My nipples had perked up. I was all alone in the room. My roommate was driving to her sister's place for the break. I loosened my shorts and was getting into the covers when the phone rang. I decided to ignore it. I just couldn't resist looking at it after the fourth ring. It was him! My heart was threatening to leap out of my chest. I steadied myself and tested my voice before I answered. "Hey. You feel better?" his voice was so masculine. "Yep." "You didn't look so good when you left" "I was just hung over." I didn't want to talk much. I thought that if I pretended to be distant, he would think I am cool and not slutty. "Would you wanna watch a movie with me?" I was so confused. I could feel my brain overheating with the huge volume of emotions it was processing. I was immensely tempted. "Sure. What do you have in mind?" "How 'bout I bring some wine and we watch something at your place?" What was that? An innuendo? Was he suggesting a date? Did he want to sleep with me? Did he think I was easy? Why wouldn't he just say what he wanted? He was playing it way too smooth, throwing me in a frenzy! "Um. Sure. See you in a bit." I hung up. I bolted to my closet to pick out something to wear. What do you wear that is sexy but doesn't call out hey-I-am-ready-for-bed? After going through my entire collection, I settled for denim shorts and a stretchy navy blue tee. My flat abs showed well. My boobs just perfectly accentuated. I was wearing a black push-up bra and a lacy black thong. I put on a mild perfume. I moisturized my legs and made sure they were shaven. I ran my fingers through my hair. I gave myself an once-over, All check! He knocked and entered with a bottle of wine and some chips. I set up the movie and got some extra cushions for the couch. I could feel his eyes on me. He was wearing a black button-down shirt and blue jeans. He was ruggedly charming. He kicked off his shoes and settled on the couch with his legs up on the table. He seemed so surprisingly calm. I wished I was that relaxed. The movie started with a forty-something man wearing a cowboy hat driving through a desert. A few minutes later I realized that I was just starting at the screen completely lost in thought. He had taken over me entirely. His after shave was intoxicating. It was an immense effort to just keep myself from checking him out. I wanted to talk to him so I could just look at him. I was drawing a complete blank. I was scared that if I opened my mouth, I'd probably just beg him to take me in his arms. I stole a quick glance at him. He looked even better in the dim light. His top two buttons were undone. He was slouching on the couch with an arm stretched out on the armrest. I wanted his lips on mine. "Hey." Damn! I had been staring at him. I did a mental headslap. "Do you want some dip?" I asked. "Later. The movie is getting good. Why don't you shift closer so I can put the chips on the side table for easier reach?" Smooth! I shifted next to him on the couch. My skin rose in a million goosebumps when he casually draped his left arm around my shoulder. I could feel his breath on my ear. I could feel the heat spread across my chest and all the way down. Oh-my-god! I was in trouble! Play it cool. I kept chanting in my head. Why was he doing this to me! Does he like me? Does he know that I like him? What if I was over-thinking and he just wanted to watch the movie? I decided I was over-thinking and told myself to concentrate on the movie. The forty something man was sitting in some kind of a back alley smoking a cigarette. There was 80's bar music playing in the background. What was so interesting about the movie? I'd rather go back to staring at him. I felt his fingers on my collar. His touch was soft. He was still looking at the screen. He was being such a tease. I told myself to ignore it, which proved futile as his index finger slipped ever so slightly into my tee. The wave of heat did another round and decided to intensify down my shorts. I was in big trouble! I couldn't take it any longer. I turned and looked at him straight in the eye. He had the same amused expression. He moved his hand from the arm rest onto my face. His fingers touched my cheek. "Can I kiss you?" His lips were on mine before I responded. He kissed me softly at first before his tongue met mine. I inhaled sharply. He had me pinned on the couch with left arm around my waist and the other holding my neck. His thumb caressed just below my ear as he put his lips on my neck. I never felt more aroused. The wetness in my shorts grew by the second. His lips moved sucking softly on my skin. His left hand was working its way up my shirt. I started squirming with anticipation. He cupped my breasts while they were in my bra. His thumbs were working on my nipples. They were sore from being aroused for so long. He pulled up my tee over my head and paused to smile at me. It did look like he liked what he was seeing. His left palm was rubbing my side as he used the other to tug down my bra to expose my left breast. He was facing the perky nipple. He blew warm air on it before his lips lowered on it. It was unbelievably pleasurable. My eyes rolled back as his other hand started working its way up my thigh. The heat waves grew more intense in my body. I shifted my palms from his shoulder to claw him gently as I moved to his jeans. He paused and grabbed my breasts. He slid beneath to undo my bra and quickly got it out of the way. My breasts were out there in all their glory with their little peaks almost quivering. I clawed my way up on his chest. I rolled him to his side and put my thigh between his legs. I climbed over as he fondled my breasts. I slowly undid the buttons on his shirt. I sucked on his neck as he grabbed and pressed my body against his bare chest. I smiled and lifted my head from his neck at the sight of a huge hickey that was growing darker. I felt his hands grab my ass. He worked his way to the front to undo the button on my shorts. I could feel his hard-on through his jeans. I reached down and stroked it before grabbing it. I hooked my fingers down his jeans. I undid the button and unzipped him slowly as I reached inside. He was in black boxers. I slid down his jeans and moved down on him. I was an inch from his engorged penis. I kissed it from outside his boxers. I used both my hands to free it. I looked at him in the eye before licking his entire length with the tip of my tongue. His eyes rolled back into his head as I took his whole length and closed my lips on it as I pulled out. He lifted himself halfway and grabbed my waist to pin me down. He slid his hand into my shorts as he kissed my mouth. I shuddered as his fingers started rubbing down around my clit. He used his other hand to slide down my shorts out of the way. His penis touched the inside of my thigh. I couldn't wait to have him inside me. He lowered himself into position and pulled on a condom which was in his wallet. I knew then that the evening wasn't entirely unplanned. He parted my thighs and pulled my thong to a side. His fingers tested the wetness. He grinned at me when he realized I was wet enough to allow his huge penis to glide easily into me. He buried his head into my neck as he slowly slid his boner into my swollen wet pussy. I arched my back in pleasure. His arm was wrapped around my waist and the other was fondling my breasts as he pumped into me. Every inch of my body tingled with excitement. He pushed himself deeper and deeper each time. I wrapped my leg around his back as he pushed one last time. I bit hard on my lip to stifle an orgasmic scream. Our bodies shuddered together as I felt a warm fluid pump out of him. I had never felt something like it! He pulled out his still-huge boner out of me and held me tight. I was too drained to hold on to him. He kissed my ear and whispered "I like you! I have wanted to do this for over a month now!" I grinned at him and replied "Looks like I did too!" Smooth As Silk David knew well the sound of the running tap, even from the den downstairs. It was slow, steady, rhythmic, and it was unchanged in 10 minutes. He smiled and lifted himself from his chair and began the climb, up three flights of stairs. He knew where he would find Sarah: she would be reclined in their oversized tub, her long legs stretched up and spread over the porcelain rim, her body positioned precisely so the gentle flow of warm water would be falling high inside her thighs. Her right arm would be loose and idle, hanging over the edge of the tub; her left would be trailing across her abdomen, two fingers gingerly fanning her folds apart as the water drummed its heavenly, relentless massage. David long had a fascination with what Sarah kept neat on her mound, a small thatch of closely shorn black hair. But he long had fantasized of seeing her bare, clean shaven, of having an uninterrupted path of creamy, smooth skin to lick and kiss from her succulent nipples to her tender pussy. The idea overwhelmed him on the second flight, the sound of the water growing louder with his every step. He pushed the door slightly open to find her exactly as the picture had formed in his mind. Sarah’s head was back, her green eyes closed, her mouth slightly open as she moved her hips ever so slightly, directing the flow into her pink, butter-soft folds. Goodness, what a sight she was. “Hi, baby... want some company?” David broke Sarah’s trance with a quiet, needless question. Her wordless smile suggested she did. He shrugged free of his silk shirt and stepped from his tight jeans, pulling his boxers to his ankles, his eyes never leaving hers. David needed not look down to witness his complete arousal. It felt as though every drop of his blood was coursing to his groin, flooding into the pronounced veins of his engorging cock. Sarah spread her legs a little wider to accommodate him, and David slipped into the tub, no more than a few inches of water pooled in it. He crawled over her body to lock his lips with hers, his hands exploring her with a soft caress, then butterflied kisses down her flesh, licking the velvet petals which she spread to his mouth. “Honey, I need you bare for me,” David said, his eyes imploring. “I need to feel you smooth to my touch.” Sarah’s eyes widened, bright in agreement. “Then shave me, baby,” she replied softly. “Make me smooth for ... us.” David smiled gratefully, then moved to gather his tools. His father had taught him to shave, and now he too used a straight razor. The closest shave in the world, he often told Sarah, and she could not disagree when they nuzzled in the evening, his cheeks still smooth on hers, or on her tender thighs, many hours later. Sarah watched David's routine every morning, and she never knew how he didn’t slice himself to ribbons with the unprotected steel blade. It was almost a primitive instrument, but she loved it as a connection to his past. She would trust his steady hand now... if only she could stop trembling. Her eyes followed David to the vanity, from where he lifted his razor and the heavy mug of shaving soap. He was semi-erect as he settled back down, and she draped her legs over his thighs. The water was running gently, enough to keep them both wet in an inch of warm water, and playfully she gave his cock a loving, loose-fisted stroke, but only one. He shivered, then stirred the badger-bristle brush in the mug, whisking up a sandalwood foam. He leaned down and kissed her knee. “Trust me,” he whispered to her, over her shortening breath. “Have I ever drawn my own blood?” Sarah smiled weakly, allowing her body to go limp, her knees falling open a little wider, a moan escaping her lips as she closed her eyes. No other sense would distract her, at least for now. She didn’t expect David's brush between her swollen lips, not right away, and she shuddered at its first touch. Slowly, tantalizingly he drew it from deep between her thighs upward, then back down, spreading a generous dollop of creamy foam over her pussy. The scent of sandalwood, candles and her own womanly arousal enveloped them like a thick, coastal fog. He moved up further and now his brush tickled the thin mat of black hair she groomed in a shapely V, as though an arrow of direction for his wanting mouth and his eager cock. David's hand swirled masterfully; feathering a soapy brush was second nature to him. Sarah’s eyes batted half-open and she saw the dim light glimmering on the razor in David's left hand. He opened it to 45 degrees and ran the shiny, exposed blade beneath the tap, turning his wrist over and back. He handled it like a surgeon his scalpel, a conductor his baton. The razor rested in his palm, guided by his thumb and pinkie, and she sighed, then held her breath. The contrast was nearly as sharp as the blade when she felt the steel come to rest low on her abdomen, David smoothing some foam off her mound with two fingers. “Are you OK, baby?” She thought she had heard his voice, but she wasn’t certain. She nodded, in case she had. And then she felt his first confident stroke, little more than a graze. Delicately he pulled down the right side of her sparse bush. The sensation was delicious, almost in slow motion, unlike anything she felt at her own hand. Where she was mechanical, he was an artist. David took a quarter-inch path, narrowing the V, then rinsed the blade clean. His thumb lovingly stroked the tender bare skin that was covered until a heartbeat ago. He smiled at her shallow gasp, then kissed her knee again. Slowly, with exquisite care, he shaved another thin strip, at the left of her mound. From right to left he moved, and she felt his thumb again. In perhaps a dozen delicate strokes, in a minute that seemed a lifetime, it occurred to her that her tidy bush was gone. Sarah’s wide eyes confirmed the fact as she looked down. Beneath the caress of David’s fingers, she saw nothing but smooth skin from her breasts to her toes, and she began to move into him. “No, no... not yet, darling,” he gently scolded her, resisting her movement and gently easing her back down. “I’m not finished.” She felt his hand at the lips of her pussy, a light bristling at his fingertips, and heard his words: “Now lie very, very still.” Sarah did not realize she was holding her breath until she felt herself exhale, the touch of the finely honed steel both hot and cold now on her right lip. He eased the blade down, lifting the traces of stubble from her body, then moved to the left. David finally exposed her stiffening clit. It was throbbing like a tiny heart, and now she trusted him with her life, and more. He razored precisely around the hard nub, and at last drew himself back to admire his work. “Now, my love,” he said, “you are as naked as you were when you entered this world.” He took a tall glass from the edge of the tub and filled it with warm water. “Here, baby... feel,” he said, taking her hand in his as he poured the liquid over her pussy, the thin wisps of sandalwood foam dissolving into the tub. He placed her fingertips first on her erect nipples, then pulled them down slowly, to her navel, then lower. She marveled at the smoothness of her skin. Lower she let herself be guided, over the tingling mound that now was baby-bottom soft, and into her slick, yielding creases. “Mmmmmm...” “Yes,” David replied to her moan. “I agree, baby. She IS lovely.” Now he welcomed Sarah into his arms, embracing her with the firm, secure gentleness she adored. Her hand continued to roam, past her hungry sex to his, her fingers opening to smother his softness. “You’ve been distracted, honey,” she purred at him, nodding at the moist, nearly flaccid cock that for now lay dormant in her palm. But with those words she felt him surge to life. David smiled at her, his hips thrusting upward as he pushed gently into her loose fist. Now she had a full, gorgeous erection in her slippery grasp, and she felt his hands beneath her buttocks, pulling her closer. “Up, baby,” he almost pleaded her, and she responded to his touch and shifted, feeling the spongy head of his swelling cock nuzzle at her supple lips. He pushed higher, rubbing her clit and up over the soft skin where only moments before he would have nestled in a black, furry V. Back and forth they rocked, aching for each other, their bodies begging for union. With one gentle, impatient nudge, Sarah pushed David's cock down and she slid forward, easing his thick shaft between her yielding lips, swallowing him the full length of her hot, tight walls. “Oh my God,” David groaned, the base of Sarah’s smooth pussy pressing into the plump, loose balls that hung between his thighs. He looked down as she pulled back to see his cock slick and shiny, her lips unfolding around him. Sarah set the pace she wanted, thrusting as she pressed David back into the tub. She felt no friction, yet her head swam with the massage his cockhead was giving her clit on each stroke. They were breathing in unison when she felt herself tossed over the cliff, falling, falling... A magnificent silky parachute seemed to billow open above her; her descent was slowed, his arms gathering around her back just as he felt the wind lift his own body from the ground. He was nearly outside her upon his first spasm, a thick, creamy spurt splashing her lips just as he pushed ahead and bore deep. David’s cock throbbed three or four more times into her beautiful depths, her pussy devouring his sticky seed. They collapsed into each other’s arms, bodies heaving, her hands in his matted hair, his nails trailing light scratches up and down her back, from her buttocks to her shoulder blades. “Tomorrow, baby,” she groaned, finally. “Tomorrow you’ll teach your love how to use your beautiful razor. And you’ll watch me, baby... won’t you? Oh yes, you will.”