Winter's Bare Embrace

The biting December wind whipped around me, carrying snowflakes that stung my exposed skin. My husband, Mark, adored my body hair, particularly the wild, untamed growth on my legs and underarms. But during the winter months, he always lamented the lack of smoothness, wishing I shaved more frequently. Lately, a particularly brutal cold snap had kept me indoors, shivered in thick layers, and completely averse to the effort of shaving. Mark, bless his persistent heart, had brought it up again the week before Christmas, a casual mention that sent a surprising jolt of heat through me.

"You know," he said, leaning back on the couch, his eyes twinkling, "it would be really nice if you shaved yourself for me this weekend."

I feigned nonchalance, responding with a casual, "We’ll see." But the thought gnawed at me. The idea, once planted, took root quickly. I knew Mark enjoyed the sensation of my bare skin against his, and the idea of teasing him all day while strategically exposing my body was intoxicating. It felt like a challenge, a playful game of seduction that he would undoubtedly find irresistible.

The next morning, after Christmas, Mark casually brought it up again, his voice laced with anticipation. This time, I decided to meet his desire head-on. As we bundled up for a day of shopping, I knew exactly how to push his buttons. "Okay," I said, a mischievous glint in my eyes, "if you want me to shave myself, you have to earn it."

He chuckled, a low rumble in his chest, and said, "What do you have in mind?"

"Let's play a little game," I replied, my voice dripping with suggestion. "Today, you wear your tightest, sexiest jeans, no underwear, and you let me feel the cold air on your bare skin. If you do that, and tonight when we get home, you let me shave you, then I'll consider it."

His reaction was immediate and visceral. The cold air hit him, and the hard, insistent erection vanished, replaced by a visible flush spreading across his face. I couldn't help but burst out laughing as we navigated the crowded mall, the scent of pine and expensive perfume mixing with the electric energy of the season.

Throughout the day, I meticulously orchestrated my actions to maximize the sensation of exposure. I'd casually brush against him in the crowded aisles, my hips swaying just enough to graze his leg. When we were between racks in Victoria's Secret, I gently cupped his package, feeling the warmth radiate through my hand. Once, as we stood on the escalator, I leaned in, whispering about the way the thin strap of a barely-there g-string would feel against my rock-hard nipples, the words hanging heavy in the air between us.

The lingerie departments were my hunting ground. I spent an embarrassing amount of time scrutinizing the displays, my fingers tracing the lace and satin of countless sexy bras and panties. My eyes lingered on the black g-strings, imagining the sensation of their thin straps biting into my buttocks and the cool, silken fabric clinging to my wet pussy. Every time I found something particularly provocative, I'd brush against Mark, whispering about how much I would leak through the little patch of fabric. He tensed under my touch, his body responding with an almost frantic energy, his erection becoming increasingly visible beneath the denim of his tight jeans. It was a constant, delicious torment, a slow burn of anticipation that left me breathless.

We continued our shopping spree, moving through various stores, but I made sure to linger in the most alluring areas. I admired the intricate designs of bespoke lingerie shops, fantasizing about the luxurious feel of silk against my skin. The air crackled with unspoken desires, the scent of leather and perfume mingling with the cold air of the mall.

As we left the mall around 5 PM, I felt a surge of triumph. Mark was visibly struggling to contain his arousal, his jeans riding higher and higher on his thighs, a clear testament to his frustration. We headed to a local restaurant, where I continued my relentless teasing, gently stroking his package beneath the table as he struggled to maintain his composure. The heat of his body radiated against my hand, a silent promise of the pleasure to come.

Once we were seated, he was on the verge of exploding, his face flushed and his breathing labored. I eased off, allowing him to eat in peace, savoring the moment of control. As soon as he finished, he practically sprinted back to the bedroom, retrieving my intimate shaver. A genuine smile spread across his face as he said, "I did my part, you do yours now, and then we’ll get to getting you smooth."

I grabbed a towel and laid down on the bed, feeling the anticipation building within me. He quickly stripped off his jeans, revealing a taut, muscular physique, and began to work on my pussy, using the shaver with precision and skill. The rhythmic scrape of the blade against my skin was both painful and exhilarating. I watched him intently, my eyes tracing the contours of his face, feeling the sweat bead on his forehead. The cold air swirled around us, intensifying the heat between us.

As he worked, I shifted my position, pulling my legs around his neck, feeling the tension in his muscles as he fought to maintain control. Every movement felt deliberate, a carefully crafted act of seduction designed to push him to the brink. It wasn’t long before he succumbed, letting out a low groan of pleasure. I continued my assault, meticulously shaving every hair from my pussy, between my legs, and along my butt. The cold air seemed to amplify the sensations, making the experience even more intense.

Once he was finished, I lay there, soaking wet, feeling utterly exposed and vulnerable. He knew exactly what to do next. As he leaned in, his hand caressing my bare skin, I let out a moan of pure pleasure. We quickly moved to more intimate acts, lost in a world of sensation and shared desire.

He had me on my back, my legs wrapped around his neck, as he continued his ministrations. It didn’t take long for both of us to reach the point of no return, releasing a torrent of passionate pleasure that left us breathless and weak. The waves of orgasm washed over us, leaving us intertwined in a tangled mess of limbs and moans.

Afterward, we simply pulled the covers up, seeking comfort in each other’s warmth. We slept nude in each other’s arms, lost in a blissful oblivion. The next morning, we awoke as we had fallen asleep, intertwined and content.

The next day, we decided to visit church. I wore a sleek black g-string and matching sheer bra beneath my new slightly snug dress slacks, a snug sweater, and sheer black trouser socks and slightly hot heels, while Mark was dressed in his snug jeans, a tight sheer briefs, and a nice shirt. We had a pleasant time at the service, but both of us were eager to return home.

Back at our place, we quickly resumed our pursuit of pleasure, indulging in another round while watching a movie. Since then, I’ve shaved every day, embracing the sensation and the power it gives me. Mark has agreed to let me shave him twice a week, solidifying our shared ritual. It seems we’ve stumbled upon a new source of intimacy and excitement, one that has brought us closer together than ever before. The cold winter months now hold a different kind of allure, a promise of pleasure and connection that warms me from the inside out.

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Winter's Bare Embrace

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