Striptease & Shave: A Close Encounter

The scent of citrus cleaner mingled with the lingering musk of shaving cream as I meticulously trimmed his beard, studying his face with a critical eye. He’d requested this morning, a strange request for a man who typically took care of his own grooming, but one I was always happy to oblige. There was a certain comfort in anticipating his needs, in knowing I could cater to his every whim, especially when those whims involved my hands on his skin.

He shifted slightly on the plush bath mat, leaning back against the cool porcelain of the bathtub, a subtle flex in his muscles a silent invitation. I continued my work, my fingers gliding through the thick, dark bristles, pulling out stray hairs with practiced ease. A stolen kiss landed on his cheek as I reached the contours of his jawline, a playful gesture designed to heighten the anticipation. “All done, handsome,” I murmured, my voice husky with pleasure, “You look absolutely divine.”

His gratitude was immediate, a genuine smile spreading across his face as he assessed his reflection in the mirror. “Can you do something else for me?” he asked, his voice low and laced with a barely concealed desire. The request hung in the air, charged with unspoken expectations.

“Of course, darling,” I replied, rinsing the razor under the warm water, a mischievous glint in my eyes. The thought crossed my mind – a morbid one, perhaps – about the lengths a man would go to for a bit of attention, for a tangible sign of devotion. Was it possible for someone to truly trust another to such an intimate degree? I’d always felt it in our relationship, a solid foundation built on mutual respect and, yes, a shared appreciation for a little bit of indulgence. This request felt like a confirmation of that trust, a declaration of his complete and utter confidence in my abilities.

I retrieved a pair of small, stainless steel scissors from the drawer, their sharp edges gleaming under the bathroom light. He shifted again, maneuvering his body to allow me optimal access. “Just a bit careful there, love,” he instructed, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through my body. I began to trim his pubic hair, meticulously snipping away at the darker patches, paying close attention to his movements. It was a delicate task, requiring both precision and dexterity, but one I relished.

As I worked, I launched into a stream of consciousness, rambling about the day's events, the antics of our daughter, and the latest gossip from the neighborhood. At one point, I noticed his attention wavering, his gaze drifting towards the mirror as he became increasingly aware of the intimate nature of the situation. It wasn't an unpleasant surprise; it was a natural reaction, a subtle shift in focus as he surrendered to the sensations building beneath his skin. A flush crept up his neck, and I could feel his arousal intensifying with each passing moment.

“Honey, are you listening?” I asked, my voice deliberately soft, attempting to pull him back into the present.

“Uhm, yeah, sorry,” he stammered, his voice slightly breathless. “Just focusing a bit.”

“Focusing, huh?” I teased, continuing to trim, my fingers lingering just a little longer on his sensitive skin. “Seems like it’s working pretty well.”

The realization dawned on me: he was genuinely captivated, lost in the pleasure of my touch, completely absorbed in the moment. It was a beautiful thing to witness, a testament to the power of intimacy and connection. I continued my work, savoring the anticipation, letting the heat build within me as well.

Once the trimming was complete, I carefully folded the trimmed hair into a small pile, a silent offering of gratitude for his trust. I gently held his newly shaven penis and testicles, studying their contours, feeling the smooth, taut skin beneath my fingertips. “May I?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

“Yes!” he exclaimed, his voice filled with a desperate longing.

I lowered myself onto his lap, straddling his legs, bringing myself closer to his body. The scent of his arousal intensified, a heady mix of sweat and anticipation. My pussy began to swell, growing wetter and more sensitive as he responded to my touch.

“Come on then, darling,” I whispered, my voice a plea. “Let’s take care of this now.” With a gentle push, I guided his shaft into my waiting mouth, feeling the cool, wet sensation as it entered. It was perfect, just as he had requested – smooth, clean, and utterly devoid of any unwanted hairs.

He bucked and writhed beneath me, his muscles tensing as he sought to meet my needs. I responded with equal fervor, grinding my hips against his, pulling him deeper into himself. The pleasure was intense, overwhelming, a torrent of sensations that threatened to consume me entirely. We moved together as one, a perfect synchronization of desire and response, lost in the intoxicating rhythm of our shared pleasure.

As our bodies intertwined, I noticed a change in his expression, a subtle shift from frantic anticipation to quiet satisfaction. The heat subsided slightly, replaced by a gentle warmth that radiated throughout his body. “It’s perfect,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “Absolutely perfect.”

A wave of tenderness washed over me, a deep and profound connection that transcended mere physical pleasure. It was more than just a shared moment of intimacy; it was a celebration of our love, a testament to the strength of our bond.

Suddenly, he shifted, pulling me closer, his hands gripping my hips as he leaned down to kiss me. The kiss was soft, lingering, a silent promise of further delights to come. As we pulled apart, he looked at me, his eyes filled with adoration. “You know,” he whispered, “I can’t believe how much I love you.”

And in that moment, surrounded by the scent of citrus cleaner and shaving cream, I knew that he was right. It was a feeling that words could never fully capture, a sensation that lingered long after the physical act was over. It was the feeling of being utterly and completely loved, desired, and cherished – a feeling that made every single moment worth experiencing.

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