April 20, 2004
'Lay down.'Â He instructs.
I leap off the couch to comply. I already like the sound of this one.
I lay down and he removes my pajama bottoms, exposing me to the air. He reaches into his pocket and brings out a gentleman's beard trimmer, complete with a number of head attachments, and kneels down over me, surveying the landscape closely.
'I hadn't trimmed it in a while.'Â I say, smiling. 'I thought it would be your job.'Â
'Indeed.'Â He replied. 'I'm just trying to think of what shape to go with.'Â
And he sits there and looks around the area a bit, perhaps testing the design thoughts in his mind, and then nods to himself, sits up, and snaps a new head on the trimmer. He kneels over me, and clicks it on.
Instantly, I am a sea of squirmy ticklishness, as I am being vibrated by a toy with teeth. Let me tell you-when you shave yourself, it's easy (just a little bit nerve-wracking), since it's impossible to tickle yourself. Have someone else parting the lips, and it's much harder to keep the thigh muscles from jerking around and the bottom from clenching tight.
Mr. Y made a number of passes through the hills and valleys, scooping out the hair with the trimmer, and laying the area flat with just a 2 mm length of fur. He surveyed it critically while I relaxed, feeling my stomach muscles heave from laughing too hard.
He sat up, nodding to himself, and then adjusted the razor head to the one that would make a clean sweep of the shorn pasture area he had left behind. And with a few well-planned moves (which also left me in fits of laughter, as it tickled like mad), the playing field as smooth. He then carefully parted the lips and, instructing me to hold still upon pain of nicking, he gently removed all the hair from inside the lips and around the happy place.
Sitting up, he surveyed his work, and nodded. He had removed all the hair save for one tiny square patch, and he had done a fabulous job.
"Don't get up!" he warned, and so I lay back, feeling my muscles relax again and the air around my exposed parts. Seconds later, there was the sound of machinery as he fired up the dustbuster and removed all the hair from me. Far from being erotic, it also tickled like mad, but I must say it was an effective hair cleanup routine. I'd never been dustbusted before. Guess there's a first time for everything.
The cleanup done, he nodded, pleased with his work.
Then he sampled it.
Again.
And again.
I could get used to this.
-H.
PS-Happy 42nd Birthday to my lovely Mr. Y. I hope you liked your birthday presents.
Posted by: Everydaystranger at
07:25 AM
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