Teach Me Dirty

“May I?”

I felt my cheeks burning. “You want to shave me? There?”

“If I may.”

“Ok,” I felt so young then, inexperienced and clumsy. “You may.”

“I’ll be very careful.” He smiled.

“I’m not worried,” I said.

He flicked on a lamp at his side, and I felt so exposed, but it didn’t feel unpleasant. It didn’t feel unpleasant at all.

The water was hot, it felt amazing against my skin, but not as amazing as his fingers did as they lathered me with soap. It made me squirm.

“Please try to keep still,” he said. “At least for the next bit.”

I nodded.

It felt so weird. More weird than I’d expected. The thrill of the razor against my skin was quite something. His concentration was addictive, too, treating me like a delicate flower, so gently, so carefully.

“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” I said.

“Yes,” he replied. “But this is different.”

“It is?” My brain skittered through potential differences. Was I weird? Did I have weird…

“It’s with you.” He swirled the razor in the bowl. “That makes it a different experience altogether.” He read my mind. “A good experience, Helen.”

I closed my eyes as he spread me open, the razor kissing my most sensitive of places. I’d never felt quite so exposed as I did then, and there was a thrill to it, an excitement.

“You have the most delightful little pussy, Helen. It’s really beautiful.”

I grinned like an idiot. “Thank you.”

He ran a thumb over me and it felt so different, so tender. It felt incredible.

“Do you like how it feels?”

I nodded. “Yes, I like it a lot.”

He took his time, moving my pussy lips so gently, this way and that. Stopping to tease, stopping to tempt, just enough to make me quiver. The heat of a wet sponge made my breath hitch. Water trickled down over my ass and it tickled. Everything was hot and wet, and needy. I was needy. “All done,” he said. “Beautiful.” He took my fingers and placed them between my legs. “Feel how pretty you are, Helen. How soft.”

It was so tingly. So different. “Wow.”

“Nice, yes?”

“Intense… it feels… so tender…”

“Exposed, vulnerable. Perfect, Helen, you look perfect.”

My eyes met his. “You like it?”

“I love it.” He reached to his side and held up a paintbrush. “Makes a much better canvas, too.”

My heart hammered at the realisation. “You’re going to paint my pussy?”

He laughed. “I’m going to paint you. Not just your pussy. Although I have to say I’m looking particularly forward to that bit.”

I couldn’t stop feeling my newly exposed skin. It was addictive, the sensations were addictive.

He watched my fingers, and his eyes darkened. “Don’t stop,” he said, and shifted position.

His hands gripped my thighs, and his breath tickled tender skin and I moaned.

He kissed my fingers between my legs, and followed them with his tongue. It set me on fire, turned me into a squirming hot mess.

A week had been too long. I reached down for him, grabbed at his hair.

“Please…” I spread myself with my fingers. “Mark, please…”

His breath was hot on me. His words gravelly and breathless.

“Since you ask so nicely…”

***

Mark

The girl was a stunning siren, the call of her flesh was divinity itself. She was a sweet and innocent temptress, soaking in every delight and pulling me ever-deeper. She hitched her pussy, demanding more, her fingers spreading herself so urgently. Her pussy was velvet soft, a ripe peach, her clit swollen and begging to be touched. I gripped her thighs, spread them wide, and the low moan that escaped her as I pressed my tongue to her clit made my cock pulse.

I breathed onto her, slowly, with purpose, and she squirmed and moaned some more.

“Please…” she whispered. “Suck my clit…”

Fuck.

The urge to consume her and take her and bury myself in the beautiful sweet pink heart of her battled the muse and threatened the whole endeavour. She whimpered as my tongue circled her clit, and her fingers gripped my hair as I sucked her between my lips.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

She was borderline delirious, lost in the sensation, and it thrilled me. Her pleasure thrilled me.

I sucked until she thrashed, her thighs squeezing me, her hands tugging at my hair. I sucked until she mewled and shuddered, until I felt her hold her breath and tip over the edge. I sucked her until she’d soaked me with the beautiful taste of her. I sucked her until she was panting and gasping. Until her hands were pulling me higher, pulling me to her.

She folded me in her arms and it was like coming home. Her face was clammy in the firelight, her hair damp to her brow, her mouth hungry as she sought out my tongue. Her ankles wrapped around my calves and moved higher, gripping me as she bucked, instinct consuming her. But I wasn’t ready. Not by a long shot.

I pinned her arms above her head and my lips smiled against hers. “Steady,” I breathed.