Striptease Secrets: Brazilian Bliss

The scent of citrus and lavender still lingered in the air, a faint reminder of Annie’s morning appointment. I watched her step out of the shower, the steam clinging to her skin like a second layer, before casually mentioning the bikini waxing she’d gotten. It was a lighthearted jab, a playful tease really, a way to inject a little spice into our otherwise predictable routine. Then, as she reached for her robe, I threw out the curveball – the Brazilian wax. “I’d pay extra if you went all out,” I said, savoring the flicker of surprise in her eyes.

The wait felt excruciating. Every tick of the clock was a hammer blow against my anticipation. When she finally returned, the scent of the salon clung to her, mixed with a subtle undercurrent of something else, something primal and thrilling. “It’s all gone,” she whispered, her voice husky and laced with a hint of mischief.

My mind raced, struggling to comprehend the implications of her words. “What do you mean?” I blurted out, my voice a confused murmur.

Her lips curved into a knowing smile. “I told the esthetician that my husband wanted it gone, and to take it all off.” The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken desire. I felt a surge of heat, a primal recognition of the power I held, and a sudden, desperate longing for the sensation she was about to unleash.

“Show me,” I urged, my voice barely a breath. She teased me, her eyes sparkling with amusement, and then slowly, deliberately, she countered, “Soon enough.”

The rest of the evening unfolded in a blur of anticipation and mounting excitement. We finished dinner, a simple pasta dish, but the flavors seemed muted, overshadowed by the electric current that now pulsed between us. As we settled onto the plush velvet couch, sipping chilled rosé, she began her slow, sensual unveiling. The crimson fabric of her silk skirt parted, revealing a breathtaking expanse of smooth, pale skin. The absence of hair was both shocking and utterly captivating.

Annie went beyond the Brazilian wax, which leaves a little strip of hair, opting for a full Hollywood wax. It was a complete removal, a testament to her willingness to cater to my every whim. The result was more shocking, more intense than I could have ever imagined. Looking into her eyes, I could see the reflection of my own arousal, a shared understanding of the delicious transgression we were about to embark on.

She dipped a finger into her wine glass, letting the crimson liquid trickle down her throat before slowly, deliberately, rubbing it across her newly exposed vulva. Then, with a slow, languid movement, she licked her finger, savoring the taste of wine and the anticipation of what was to come. The movement was mesmerizing, hypnotic.

Without hesitation, I moved towards her, sliding down the couch until I was positioned directly below her. My hands instinctively reached for her legs, gently drawing them together, creating a space for my desires to take root. She closed her eyes, tilting her head back, a soft moan escaping her lips. "Just be gentle," she whispered, her voice thick with pleasure.

Twenty years of marriage had taught me the intricate map of her body, the delicate points that responded to my touch with exquisite sensitivity. But this was different. This was a new territory, a landscape of pure, unadulterated pleasure. Like the petals of a vibrant flower, I gently explored her smooth, hairless skin, tracing the contours of her vulva with my fingertips, sending shivers down her spine. Each soft caress, each gentle stroke, elicited sighs and moans that filled the room with a heady mix of longing and desire.

My tongue danced across her surface, teasing and tantalizing, searching for the perfect rhythm. I focused on the exposed clitoris, a sensitive nerve center that promised an explosion of sensation. The faintest touch, the lightest brush, sent ripples of pleasure through her body. She writhed in a way she hadn't experienced in years, her muscles tensing and releasing, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. The desire for more, for deeper penetration, became overwhelming.

“You want it,” she breathed, her voice strained with anticipation. She pushed her pelvis forward, drawing me closer, her body practically begging for release. It didn't take long before she reached the pinnacle of arousal, her body trembling with anticipation. "Let go," she pleaded, her voice a desperate whisper.

With a final surge of adrenaline, I plunged inside, delivering deep, pulsing thrusts that ignited a firestorm of pleasure. Annie shrieked with delight, her muscles contracting violently as she reached the climax. We both collapsed back onto the couch, gasping for breath, our bodies slick with sweat and tears.

The complete removal of her pubic hair had unleashed a torrent of erotic feelings, both for her and for me. We were closer than we had ever been before, bound together by the shared experience of this intense, unforgettable encounter. Annie, after a moment of breathless silence, let out a hearty laugh. "Well, with all the attention I've received tonight, I might as well make this a regular thing," she declared, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Looking at her, at her flawless body, at the sheer power of her submission, I couldn't help but smile. "You have my approval, my beloved," I said, my voice filled with genuine admiration. The scent of citrus and lavender hung in the air once more, a fragrant reminder of the night we had just shared, a night that had redefined our marriage, pushing us closer together than ever before. The pleasure was exquisite, the transgression thrilling, and the connection, profound. The world outside faded away, leaving only us, lost in the intoxicating heat of the moment.

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