Read the entire story here: [Part 1 Working Late] [Part 2 All Wrapped up in Work] [Part 3: What Vicki Did at the Ritual] [Part 4: Victoria Finds Her Man… Two of Them]
Vicki lay back on the pile of cushions shrugging out of the robe so it lay underneath her like a sheet.
Bishara laid beside her, his kohl darkened eyes and shaved head reminded her of Djet, but there was something jarring about seeing the makeup and the ancient affectation on a modern man.
“Are you ready?” He asked.
She nodded, not entirely sure what she needed to be ready for. At this point, she was certain she wanted this magician and not only for his magic.
Julia left her aesthetician’s office, her skin warm and hypersensitive. She’d been going for years, suffering the brief flood of pain for the smooth, hairless mons and labia she had come to love. The drive home was the hardest part, as Julia wiggled and shifted in her car, unable to find relief. Her skin tingled, and she wanted nothing more than strip out of her clothes to remove any pressure from her over-stimulated skin.
Once home, Julia strips as she walks through the door. Tossing her thin summer dress aside, her panties were stowed in her purse, as she had learned years ago that after a waxing she couldn’t abide the feeling of undergarments. The air currents against her newly bared skin made her shudder.
She ran the shower, wanting to wash away any remaining tidbits of wax. The water cooled her over-heated skin, and Julia gently soaped her mons. Her aesthetician was good, and Julia didn’t actually expect to find any wax remaining behind. But she slipped her soapy fingers between her smooth, hairless lips.
Julia had told a lover once that she loved being hair-free because it increased her range of feeling. There was no hair to lessen the tactile feel of a finger or tongue anywhere on her. Like now, as she slowly ran her fingers over and inside her labia, there was nothing between her skin and her fingers. She cupped her hand over mons, letting her finger caress her clit, rubbing it slowly while her palm slid over her newly denuded flesh.
She knew that she should let her skin rest, allow it time to lose some of its pinkness, some of its sensitivity. But the slick skin was already so wet from the cruel waxing ministrations, and she was already in the shower. She continued her slow movements, the water running down her body adding a teasing element. Julia leaned back against the shower wall, the cool tile doing nothing to lessen her heat.
She reached up and removed the shower head and spent a moment getting the water to be the perfect temperature. Julia turned the settings on the device, the rainfall pattern becoming a single jet of water. She ran the jet over her nipples, feeling the water pound on her skin. She gave a small moan, and lowered the showerhead. With her freehand, she spread open her lips, and positioned the spray of water lower.
She moved the water slowly down her chest and over her belly. The water ran down between her spread lips, teasing her with its soft touch. The runoff was never going to be enough to get her off, but she was enjoying the buildup. She inched the water lower, tilting her hips to find the perfect angle. Finally the rough spray of water reaches her tender skin, the skin so newly abused by the waxing. Julia gasps the stinging of the water a wonderfully welcome sensation.
She luxuriates in the feeling, slowly moving the water, always avoiding her clit for the time being. Julia’s frustration builds and keeping herself just on the edge slowly becomes overwhelming. She gives in directing the spray of water directly on her clit and a moan is torn from her. She cums quickly, her pussy clenching, and the shower head slipping from her hand.
When the water sprays past her, pounding the ceiling, she pulls herself together and grabs for the shower head. She replaces it in its holder. She steps from the shower already thinking about how the towel will feel on her sore skin.
Names, titles, what we call each other. I find that these concepts are simultaneously unique and utterly culturally bound. I recently told KinkyandPerky (whose blog you should be reading) that I’m often intentionally vague about dirty talk in my stories because dirty talk is so unique to everyone. I’ve read otherwise hot stories, but the dirty talk (of a type that isn’t mine) just threw me out of the story. I believe that names work the same way.
It had been a couple of weeks since our last encounter. Tonight, she was coming over to my place.
I’d set out what felt like a million candles in the bedroom. I wondered if it was cheesy, predictable to want the soft, flickering candlelight. But I decided that I didn’t care. I liked it, and the candle light made me feel sexy.
I love sending you pictures. I adore slipping off to somewhere private, and slipping off some clothes. I’ve become very adept at taking photos of myself. Finding the best ways to frame my naked, or almost naked body, in the most titillating ways.
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Caroline remained on the table, still shuddering from her orgasm.
She felt her mistress’s hand on her shoulder and then stroking her hair. She helped Caroline to sit up on the table.
“That was beautiful, Caroline” her mistress crooned to her. “You let yourself get completely into the feeling.”
Hali lay in the beach soaking up the summer sun. Overhead the gulls wheeled and called to each other, casting brief shadows over Hali.
She lay her back. Her naked breasts rubbed against the rough sand. She bent her legs, enjoying the feeling of moving them. She crossed her ankles and slowly rocked her upraised calves back and forth. She’d chosen a secluded stretch of beach, a place a little too rocky for most people to want to make the trek. Hali wasn’t a big fan of people.
I had a free evening in my new town, so I decided to take the historic cemetery tour. When I arrived, I found the tour guide, a beautiful young man, in a frock coat and top hat lounged against the graveyard gate talking passionately with a small group of tourists.
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Caroline stood with the blindfold over her eyes. She felt the woman standing near her.
“Are you afraid, Caroline?” her Mistress’s voice cut through Caroline’s racing thoughts.
Caroline found herself nodding.
“What are you afraid of?”