Use your body.Use your body." So I did, rubbing myself against his front, sliding my legs between his, sliding my backside against him, and asking him several times, "Would it please you to put more conditioner on me?" As I rubbed my breasts against his back and then his erection I could tell he was extremely ... ready. I know you probably think this was dis- gustingly servile groveling, rubbing myself all over him, especially after what he had just done to me. At this point I felt I had crossed the line between dignified slavery and genuine degradation. I didn't care. Suddenly he spun me around and held me to him and kissed me. He was really turned on and poured a lot of barely-controlled emotion into those kisses. He guided me out of the shower, and instead of drying us off, he led me straight into the bedroom and literally threw me onto the bed, soaking wet and still dripping with body conditioner. Without preamble he was on top of me and inside. No foreplay, no nothing. He ravished me. It sounds old-fashioned, I know, but there's no other way to describe it. It's not that he was out of control, but my appearance was driving him wild. At one moment I sensed that he tried to slow down and exert his usually excellent control over the timing of our orgasms, but he failed utterly. We slithered and slipped against each other, and it felt like the smooth sensitive skin around my depilated mons extended over my whole body to form one big eroge- nous zone. In just a couple of minutes--long before I was ready--he came uncontrollably in huge thrusting shuddering gasps. He collapsed onto me, his face slithering into the hollow between my neck and shoulder. To tell the truth, despite the embarrassment at my appearance, even despite not having an orgasm, I derived a genuine sense of warmth (power?) from the fact that I could make him lose control that way, and I knew that it was my totally hairless appearance that did it to him. |