Chapter 9: The Shaving Party.

Once the women were naked, Sam announced that they were going to have a shaving party. "Jenny; go into the kitchen. Find a Tupperware bowl. Fill it with hot water. Get a bath towel and a face towel. Go to the bathroom and get some shaving crème and an unused safety razor. You know the drill."

Jenny blanched. She knew what this was about, but Stephanie had no clue what the conversation was about. Her hands went to her mouth. She caught herself, and lowered them. She did not want to frighten her daughter.

Jenny padded, naked and barefoot, into the kitchen. She went through the house gathering the items and brought them back to the outside deck.

Stephanie had stood there, wondering what was going on. She dropped down into a chair and leaned over with her head down over her knees to hide her nudity.

Jenny stood in front of her daughter, embarrassed by her own nakedness, but more concerned about her daughter. Sam handed Jenny a soft nylon rope, about twenty feet long. She didn't need to be told what he wanted her to do. It had already been done to her the night before. For whatever reason, Sam must have thought she would panic and become uncontrollable.

Jenny got behind her daughter and leaned over her and kissed her on the side of her neck. "Please don't be scared, honey. They are not going to hurt you."

Stephanie tensed up. She knew by the fact that her mother was trying to calm her, that something alarming was about to happen. Jenny guided Stephanie's hands around behind her over the back of the chair. She looped end around her daughter's arm above the elbow and tied a square knot in it to secure the end.

Jenny laced the rope in a weaving figure eight pattern over, under and around her daughter's arms. She didn't pull it tight, but the weight of the rope had the cumulative effect of pulling her arms tight behind her. With her elbows almost touching, her breasts were raised and almost pointed straight up. They had no sag anyway, so the angle was raised even more.

Stephanie was starting to panic. Her embarrassment changed to agony; and then fear. She looked repeatedly into the eyes of her mother, Sam and the rest of the guests; trying to interpret what was going to happen to her.

Stephanie still had her ribbed silk stockings and her knee-high boots on. Sam brought three more aluminum chairs in front of her. He put one on each side of her knees, and one in between. He picked up one foot at a time, bent her leg at the knee, and placed her foot over the back of a chair. He lashed each ankle to the top of the back of each chair with a short rope. That left Steph with her legs spread wide and up in the air over the backs of two chairs.

Sam sat down in the chair between them facing her exposed crotch. He put the Tupperware bowl down on the ground in front of her and soaked the face towel in it. He let it sit a while, then wrung it out and spread it over the remainder of Stephanie's pubic hair. Stephanie's head rolled back as far as it would go. She sobbed as she turned her head from side to side. She knew now what was going to happen.

Sam used the safety razor and slowly inched his way down her landing strip. He changed directions; shaving from the bottom up; then from side to side and using the back of his hand to verify that there was no stubble discernable to his touch.

From time to time, Sam would wash her off completely to see if there was anything he had missed. Finally she was "as smooth as a baby's bottom."

Sam caressed the entire area with the back of his hand. The baby-soft skin of this young girl was intoxicating. He couldn't help turning his hand over and stroking the soft folds that covered her entrance.

Sam untied her legs and kissed her vagina softly as she pulled her legs down off of the chairs and brought her knees together. Her nipples jiggled wildly to reflect the convulsing in her stomach.

Sam guided her over to her original seat at the dinner table.

"Gentlemen we are having two kinds of dessert tonight. You can center your attention to either one. Jenny will be helping you enjoy sampling the chocolate and strawberries. You can enjoy her, the chocolate or strawberries in any manner that you can think of.

Her daughter, Stephanie, on the other hand is a different kind of dessert over at this table. She is very new at sex and needs all the experience she can get in order to be proficient. You are free to do whatever you can think of.

The line split evenly between the two women. Somebody placed a pillow on the ground in front of Stephanie, and several hands guided her out of the chair and down to her knees.

The first man pulled a chair in front of Stephanie and sat down in it. Pierre Carron was still playing for the Chiefs. He was only about six feet tall, but weighed over 250 pounds. He was one of the biggest and fastest running backs in professional football. He was from Nigeria and it showed. He had tribal scars that had been tattooed on his cheeks like the American Indians had applied war paint. Tattoos were not a fad there; they were carefully thought out patterns that had meanings. His skin was as dark as charcoal and there was not a drop of fat on him. If he jumped in a pool, he would sink like a rock.

Pierre unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his jeans. He slid his pants and briefs down past his knees in one motion. This penis was bigger than anything Steph had ever imagined; and it still was not fully erect.

There is a term in glass blowing called the jack line.

A tool called the "Jacks" is a hairpin shaped tool that springs open and when closed has long blades about 12-15" long used for shaping glass. When two pieces are ready to be separated, the "Jack" is pinched around the glass to form a deep "recess" between the two lengths. The end is then snapped off.

When Pierre exposed himself, the ridge between his crown and the rest of his shaft could be described as a very deep "jack line." The crown was extremely wide and the opening in the end looked like a cobra ready to strike.

The shaft seemed to bob and weave as it gradually extended itself to full erection. It started out pointing down between its legs. Each time Stephanie seemed to move, it seemed to move back and forth like a transformer toy, and jerk itself forward; increasing its width and length as it moved towards her.

Stephanie looked in panic towards Sam, Jenny and up into Pierre's eyes, hoping somebody would call off this frightening nightmare. She would forever remember him as her "Nigerian Nightmare." Not Pierre, but his throbbing, hypnotic cobra like cock that seemed to be aware of her every move.