Chapter 6

“We have to pretend about the wine. I don’t usually entertain old friends, and have nothing in the wine cellar, yet.”

“Well, old buddy, I forgive you. Please do not cut me.”

“Perish the thought,” he said. “I shall be so careful as to be accused of loitering.”

He leaned in and ruffled up her short and curlies, snipping here and there and brushing the cut hairs off. He brushed much more than was needed and they both knew it.

“I need to shorten it all so I can see the skin under it,” he said.

“Alright,” she said, her voice neutral.

Eventually what had hidden her vulva was gone and he stared at her pussy lips. He looked up at her.

“I think a narrow landing strip would work. That okay?” he asked.

She blinked slowly, several times and then nodded.

“Okay,” he said. “This is a little challenging, so be patient. You have hair growing where I didn’t expect to find hair growing.”

“Where?” she asked, leaning forward and looking down.

He pushed her outer labia to one side and slid a fingertip into the shallow trough between her left lip and thigh. He tickled some hairs, there.

“I never paid any attention to that,” she said. “I haven’t been shaved since I gave birth to Erica.”

“Not to worry,” he said.

He squirted her mat of black hair with a dollop of shaving cream and she jumped.

“I have to rub this in,” he said. “It’s required by the barber’s union. It’s the only way to really moisten what’s left.”

“I wouldn’t want to run afoul of the barber’s union,” she said. “Please continue.”

He didn’t stop rubbing until she was whining and her hips were rolling back and forth on the bed.

“Sit still, now,” he said. “I really don’t want to nick you.”

She was breathing deeply as she resumed holding herself, leaning back and watching him.

He leaned in and did the same thing to her that he’d done to her daughter, putting his thumb where her clit should be and pushing it to the side while he carefully made a strip of hair and then narrowed it again and again.

“You need to hurry up,” she said, breathing deeply. “If you keep that up I’m going to need to stop and rest in private.”

He very carefully, slowly and deliberately rolled his thumb in a circle.

“I have to keep things tight,” he said. He pushed her bud down and she gasped. He made several short strokes to take care of errant hairs he had missed.

“Now for the challenging part,” he said. He pushed her labia to one side and made sure her clit was under his middle finger.

“Bob, you’re not playing fair,” she panted, gently.

“All’s fair in love and war, and this is war against the hedge,” he said. “Sit still.”

“I can’t sit still with you rubbing me like that,” she moaned.

“All right, all right,” he growled. “You hold things to the side while I attack the little buggers.”

She reached and did a much better job of giving him good access. He had to use tiny, repetitive nips to get everything cut and then they changed sides.

“If we ever do this again we’re using Nair,” he said.

“Tell you what. We’ll use it on you before we use it on me. That stuff burns!”

“I’ve heard of manscaping, but I’ve never done it,” he said.

“It sounds like a ridiculous idea to me,” she said.

“Done!” he said, cleaning her pudendum with a towel.

She sat up and looked down. He had left a vertical strip of hair that was perhaps an inch wide at the top, and which tapered to a point just above the clit he had so recently been abusing.

“I have to do a quality control inspection, though,” said Bob.

“What is that?” she asked.

“It’s this,” he said.

He leaned forward and pushed his tongue as deeply as he could get it between her pussy lips. She yelped and he reached for her hips so she couldn’t wiggle away. She was saying “Bob! Bob!” and it wasn’t sexual bliss in her voice. That’s because in all her life, no man had ever done this to her. They had all been too impatient to get their own satisfaction, while caring little for hers. The only man who thought about it was Cummins, and he didn’t want to chance having that kind of taste on his lips when he got home and kissed his wife.

So Megan’s initial reaction was one of distaste and she recoiled ... or tried to. Bob’s hands on her hips prevented that and her “Bob! Bob!” of censure became a plaintive “Bob. Bob.” Until she went, “Oh Bob, I didn’t know!”

Finally, she fell down on her back on the day bed as he lifted her knees to drape over his shoulders, and just enjoyed it.

Then he found her clit, which was large enough that he could suck it between his lips and pinch it with them. The hair that was left at the bottom of the strip tickled his nose and made him move it from side to side. She squealed and kicked, but her feet hit nothing but air. She sat up as if there was a spring in her belly and grabbed his hair in both fists.

“Bob!” she croaked. “You’re killing meeeeee.”

He didn’t let up until she fell back and started screaming in what he knew had to be orgasmic bliss. Then he just licked her loose, swollen lips with the flat of his tongue until she struggled up again.

“You really don’t play fair!” she panted.

“You passed the ‘Is it smooth’ test,” he said, with a grin. “Guess what.”

She lifted her head.

“Your face is wet,” she observed.

“Nope. Guess again.”

“But your face is wet,” she insisted.

He stood and walked to the bathroom. He dried his face with a towel and, for good measure used a washcloth to clean the tip of his penis, where it had leaked, before stuffing it back in his pants. When he returned she was sitting up again and her legs had mostly closed.

“I just remembered I have a moustache trimmer,” he said. “How about that?”

“I think you knew and just wanted to torture me,” she said.

“Okay, now guess what,” he said.

“I don’t know,” she moaned. “Tell me.”

He looked both ways, as if he was crossing a street and then said in a stage whisper.

“Don’t tell Erica, but I have a boner.”

Her eyes widened, but only for a second or two. Her breathing had returned almost to normal. She sat forward and also looked both directions.

“How can I believe you?” she asked. “I don’t see a boner. Seeing is believing, you know.”

“Do you want to see it?” he asked, again looking around as if he wanted to make sure nobody could hear them. “It’s pretty neat. I bet you’d like it.”

“Okay, I guess,” she said. “I haven’t seen one in quite a while, but I’ll take a look at yours. If you really have one. I think you might be trying to trick me.”

“Why would I trick you?” he asked. He pulled his T shirt off, revealing that he obviously worked out. His chest was a bas-relief of muscles. What came to her mind was a picture she’d seen in a book in school. Though a decade and a half of time had passed, she still remembered that picture. It was of a Mau Mau warrior in Africa, tall and thin and muscled. The warrior had been staring into the camera lens, looking like he could do anything he wanted to, and she had shivered, feeling something primordial. It was only a month later that she saw Mr. Cummins naked. He wasn’t tall, but he was thin and wiry and that primordial thing inside her had squirted her pussy full of lubrication.

She felt whatever little organ was involved squirt more juice in her pussy and hummed as he bent over to push his pants down. While he was down there he took off his sneakers and stepped out of the pants. Lifting each foot he pulled off his socks and then he craned his neck, looking at her face. Her jaw was slack and she looked eager.

“Do you really wanna see it? What if you don’t like it? That would make me sad.”

“Bobby, Honey,” she said, suddenly sounding exactly like what she was – a concerned mother – “I want to see it. Come on. Show it to me.”

He stood and let his hands hang at his sides.

“Oh my,” she sighed.

“Is it okay?”

“It’s beautiful,” she said.

“Really?”

“It looks very hard. Does it hurt?”

“A little bit,” he said.

“Come closer. Let Mama kiss it and make it better.”

He moved and she spread her legs again. When he was close enough her hand darted to grasp him. She squeezed tightly and pulled, as if she was afraid he might jerk it out of her hand. She pulled enough that his knees hit the bed and made him slightly off balance. He had to put his hands on her head to avoid falling on her. When she moved her head forward he regained his balance.

“It isn’t circumcised,” she said, as if to herself. Her hand moved and uncovered the glans. She leaned forward even more and kissed the naked tip, pushing her lips halfway along its bulbous length. When she pulled back and pulled his foreskin forward, she kissed that, too. She looked up at him through her eyelashes.

“Better?”

“Not really,” he said. “I think it needs a soak in some hot water or something.”

“I don’t have any hot water,” she said. She pushed one of her fingers between the lips he had so recently sucked into his mouth. “It’s hot in there. Do you want to try soaking it inside me?”

“Uh huh,” he said, nodding. She put her hands on his rock hard abs and pushed him backward. Standing, she took his hand and pulled him to the spiral staircase that led to his “bedroom”. Halfway up he spoke.

“I forgot to clean my room. Don’t be mad, okay?”

“We’ll see,” she said, climbing in front of him.

He watched her ass and saw traces of cellulite, but her glutes bobbed up and down as she climbed. When she got to the top she moved toward his bed. His top sheet was still thrown back and, paying no attention to anything else, she almost ran the short distance to the bed and climbed on it. She lay back and spread her legs.

“It’s very hot inside me,” she panted. “Be careful. I don’t want either of us to get injured.”

He crawled onto the bed and between her spread thighs. His cock hung down and he stopped. This time, when he kissed her, it was a French kiss, and it felt so normal to both of them that they suddenly felt no apprehension at all. Bob had the normal angst any man has when he’s worried he won’t please his partner enough and Megan, of course, was frazzled by the fact she was about to do something she had sworn she would never do again. It was only their play-acting and teasing that had grounded her, because it meant he was going slowly, gently, unthreateningly. Now, with that kiss, their fears were assuaged and passion flared in their eagerness to go on ... to engage ... to mate.

Suddenly her hands pushed at his chest. He lifted and looked down.

“Hurry up and soak before it cools down,” she rasped.

She reached for his cock and pulled it gently. He was tall enough that, when the tip entered her, his eyes were looking at the pillow under the top of her head.

Both groaned as he eased into her. His penile length was pretty normal, at around five inches, but he was thicker than most other men and he stretched her tender tissue as he bored in. It wasn’t uncomfortable in any way, though, and as she felt his pubes tickle her now nearly bald mons, and her clit got happily squashed, she felt like it hadn’t been seventeen years at all. It was like riding a bicycle. It all came back to her in a rush.

She welcomed it with every fiber of her body. That part of her mind that kept whispering to be careful and not to trust too soon or too much was muttering softly, while another part of her mind petted it like a dog and whispered, “It will be fine. Go to sleep.”

“Ohhh yes!” she almost howled. “I’ve missed this so much!”

“You’re very tight,” he sighed, not moving.

“Any girl you soak in will be very tight,” she said. “Your penis is a big fatso.”

“Should I make it diet?” he asked.

“No, no, no,” she gasped. “I like your big fatso very much.”

“It needs to soak for a long time,” he said, moving his hips to the right. “It feels better, but it’s not completely happy, yet.”

He moved his hips to the other side, sliding his skin and pubes over her clit and making her bite her lip.

“Leave it in as long as you like,” she gasped, wrapping her legs around his legs.

“Thank you,” he said.

He knew what to do, or at least what the women before Megan had liked him to do. He combined the friction of moving in and out with the pressure of pushing hard and massaging her clit, until she sobbed her way into an orgasm.