Chapter 5

The scissors worked for wholesale removal of most of her curly pubes. I could cut close to the skin, and take off whole tufts of hair. Once it was short, the disposable razor worked much better, and fifteen minutes later she was smooth as a baby's butt. I had to go get a washcloth to clean her up with, but otherwise everything worked much better.

I leaned back after running the warm wash cloth all over her loins. She murmured about how good it felt. I paid particular attention to her pussy lips, wiping across them several times.

"How does it look?" she asked, still leaning back.

"Delicious," I sighed.

"Is it smooth?"

"Just a minute," I said.

I leaned in and rubbed my lips and cheeks all over her pussy. She squealed as I used my tongue to part her labia and find her clit, which I knew was already peeking out of its hood. I'd seen it becoming erect while I shaved her.

She let me give her one orgasm, falling onto her back while it washed through her body, but then sat up and pushed my head away from her.

"Mindy said you have to put lotion on, or the razor burn will be uncomfortable."

"Do you have lotion?" I asked.

"No ... but you do."

"I do?"

She stood up and pulled me up off my knees. Then she pushed me onto the bed, so I was lying on my back. She crawled up beside my hip and reached to grasp my boner, which had maintained its tumescence the entire time I dealt with her pussy hair. Her other hand cupped my balls.

"You have lots of lotion in here," she said, gently squeezing my scrotum.

"I don't think that's the kind of lotion Mindy had in mind," I said.

"It's the only lotion we have," she said.

"And you want to rub it all over your ... pussy?"

"Mmmmmm," was her response, as she crawled up and straddled me.

She settled with my erection right in front of her mound. Her pussy lips settled against my nut sack and she reached for my cock, stroking it slowly.

"If I do this will I get some lotion for my poor, razor-burned pussy?" she asked.

"Ohhh yeah," I groaned.

"Be sure to warn me so I don't waste any of it," she said, stroking faster.

This was something we had done many times, and she had learned how to bring me off very quickly. It was clear she hadn't forgotten how and within a few minutes she had me on the edge.

"Get ready," I gasped.

She lifted her butt off my thighs, and put her non-stroking hand on my chest. As I felt the first soothing jet start through my prick, she bent it, notching the tip between her pussy lips.

Then she sat down, impaling herself, and taking all four spurts of my semen deep inside her.

I gurgled a bit as my balls unloaded years' worth of semen. Well ... not really. I had jerked off plenty while she was gone. But I hadn't shot off inside a nice, warm pussy, and that's different.

She sat as I spurted, staring down at me, almost studying me, except that her right hand went to rub her clit. I finished cumming, and about thirty seconds later her fingers got her off. The rippling muscles inside her announced she was cumming as she froze and groaned. Those muscles pushed my softening penis out of her and she moaned in dismay.

"I thought you were going to rub it into your newly shaven pussy," I panted.

"I am," she panted back.

Then she rose on her knees again. My flaccid penis flopped onto the only pubic hair left to us. She cupped her hand under her pussy lips, letting some of my sperm drip out of her.

Then she rubbed that all over her mons.

"That was hot," I said. We were lying side by side. We had caught out breath, but hadn't talked much.

"That was starters," she said, rolling over to lie half on me.

"Starters?"

"We have a lot of lost time to make up for," she said.

Imagine attempting to make up what you lost in four years ... in one night.

We tried. I'll vouch for that. And not just in the lovemaking arena. Between exhaustive bouts of passion, we lay there, sweaty, and talked about anything and everything. In one sense it was like we'd just met, and knew nothing about each other. But in another sense it was just what it was - two people long separated who hungered to know everything that had happened to each other during that separation.

We changed the dampened sheets and when she had me help her drape the damp ones over the furniture, she explained she only had two sets, and she anticipated needing dry ones again before morning. We spent an hour showering and drying each other thoroughly, only to tumble into bed immediately afterward and get sweaty again. She pulled me into the kitchen at two in the morning and while the omelets cooked, she sucked me to hardness again and demanded to be taken on the table we would soon be eating at.

I've heard that if a woman's nipples are stimulated enough by sucking and pressure, that her breasts can be induced to lactate, even though she hasn't had a baby. I spent so much time sucking at her turgid nipples that night that I half expected them to spurt milk any minute. She sucked at mine several times, and was amazed there were so many nerve endings in something that had no purpose.

But always she wanted my penis in her. It was like she was a virgin, up from the farm to the big city for the first time, and wanted to try all those strange and interesting things she'd heard about. The kitchen table was only one tip of the iceberg. She wanted to be mounted from behind. She wanted to sit on me while I sat on a kitchen chair. She wanted me on top, with her legs closed which, when I asked her why, she said one of her friends at college had recommended it. Apparently it made me feel bigger, or put more pressure on her clit or something, because she liked that a lot. She wanted me to put her ankles beside her ears and hold them there with my hands while I pounded deep into her obscenely exposed pussy. She wanted me to eat strawberries and cream from her pussy, but she didn't have any. We had to settle for canned peaches, which made a mess and required another trip to the shower. Where, of course, she wanted to try it standing up while the water beat down on us in the cramped space.

And between all that sex, we talked. We had no idea what we'd be talking about next. I remember one session where it went from her describing in great detail the texture and color of the food in the cafeteria in college, to me using the fingers of both her hands to try to describe what all the control levers on a Martin backhoe did, and how to manipulate multiple levers with only one hand. The next thing that came up was her, talking about her dream of being a principal in a small rural school, where her decisions wouldn't be made based on local politics. I told her how close I had come to joining the Navy, even going taking the physical.

When I told her my invite was still good, she pushed me onto my back and mounted me like a cowgirl again.

"No Navy for you, mister," she said, rocking forward and backwards with a hip movement that reminded me of belly dancing. "The only semen in your life are going to be the ones that leave your balls and enter my womb. I laughed, and then, a short time later, warned her I was going to fire off my big gun. She leaned over and kissed me, saying, "Damn the torpedoes, Captain. Full speed ahead."

It was like waking up on Christmas morning and getting everything you ever put in a letter to Santa, all at once. I was so caught up in all this that it wasn't until almost five-thirty the next morning, as I was drifting off to sleep, that I realized how many times I had spurted in her, and that there had been no mention of condoms. Drowsily I wondered if she'd just had her period, or was about to. Back in the day, if she was close to or on her period we would have sex, because she knew it was safe then. I started to ask her, but she wiggled against me and pressed her face into my side and I just loved lying there with her next to me. Before I could say anything, I was asleep.

I don't know about you, but I would have expected things to be a little awkward when we woke up around ten in the morning on Saturday. I mean we hadn't seen each other for so long and, since then had only been together twice. And one of those times was at church, followed by a lunch with friends, and no time to talk or catch up.

I suppose it was a little awkward, in that I woke up first. In my job, you get up early and go to work in whatever weather conditions there happen to be. If it's a flood you might end up going home, but only if the equipment bogs down. Otherwise, you get something done on whatever job or contract you're working on. So I was used to waking up, getting up, getting dressed and leaving. That usually took a maximum of ten minutes. I usually got breakfast on the way to work. More than once I'd thought about buying stock in MacDonald's, considering how much I had contributed toward their bottom line.

So, once I woke up, I was wide awake. I lay there for a while, just looking at her. Her hair was tousled and we smelled like sweat that's thinking about becoming stale, but she was still so beautiful it made my heart ache. She was partly curled on her side, and her upper leg and arm hid all the good bits, but she would have made a stunning statue of eroticism.

On the other hand, I didn't want her waking up to smell what I was smelling (me) so I got up and covered her with the sheet. Before going to the kitchen to investigate what she had besides eggs and shredded cheese, I decided to put my underwear and jeans back on. It was late September, and Indian Summer was in full force, so staying shirtless was comfortable. My thinking was that, half-dressed like I was, she could either hand me my shirt, or suggest I take the jeans off again.

It turned out she liked to cook, and kept lots of ingredients handy. She later told me that, after cafeteria food, she decided she would learn to cook, and had applied herself to that task with vigor. She had more ingredients than I had imagination.

So I made pancakes, the first of which was ready to come out of the pan and onto a plate when she walked into the kitchen, stark naked.

"I must look awful," she sighed, running her fingers through her hair.

"On the contrary," I said. "Your beauty takes my breath away."

"You are so full of it," she sighed.

"Not after last night," I quipped. "You drained it all out of me."

"It had better not be all gone," she said, looking up. "What smells so good?"

"Pancakes."

"I like pancakes," she said.

"Then sit down, because this one is crying out to be eaten.

She sat, still naked, and let me put plate, fork, knife, and butter in front of her. I scooped the pancake onto her plate and while she buttered it, I got her a glass of milk and found the syrup. As I returned, she was bent over, holding her hair out of the way, with her ear close to the plate.

"I don't hear anything crying out to be eaten, Bob."