Archive-name: Bondage/shavspla.txt
Archive-author: averti
Archive-title: Shaved Splash

* Parts 1 and 2 *


The phone rang. It was Joker. ``Hey, Starr'' she said, calling me by my 
play name. I wondered if that meant she was in a mood to play. ``Stop 
jerkin' off'' Joker continued, in her familiar raspy voice.

I sighed. ``I wish I _were_ jerking off'' I said. ``I'm sitting
here writing checks, and the bills are breeding faster than I can
cover them.''

``Well, that's a stupid way to spend a Sunday afternoon...Want
to come over here instead?''

``Here? You mean, like your place?'' I was a little surprised. Even
if I was virtually the only man that Joker had any kind of close
relationship with, I had seldom been invited to her flat; we usually
met at the home of our mutual...well, friend is a weak word...Toby.
Our whole little circle of friends was intensely private. Joker
probably the most private of all.

``Yes, my place. It's going to rain, finally, I think. We could
hang out and dig the rain...''

``OK. Thanks. But I'm not helping you work on your bike again.
My knuckles haven't healed from the last catastrophe.''

Joker laughed. ``You're supposed to hold onto the wrench, fool,
not spin it like a baton.''

``I'm a lover, not a mechanic'' I grumbled. ``If it's not motorcycle
repairs, then what do you have in mind?''

There were a couple of beats of silence, then she said, in a softer
voice, ``You remember when you wrote that story about me and sent it 
to the whatchacallit--net?''

``The one about shaving your pussy?'' I grinned at the memory.

``Yeah. Well, I was re-reading the copy you gave me, and I started
to get ideas...''

``Tell me, Joke, which hand are you holding the phone in?''

``Left hand, asshole. That's right, I've been rubbing myself. For about
half an hour before I placed this call.''

Dynamite! ``So you want me to come over and watch you shave again?''

``Nope. I want you to come over and _shave me_.''

***

It was definitely going to rain, after weeks and months of nothing
but broiling sun alternated with sullen, juiceless clouds and fog.
I parked my car in Joker's driveway, got out, and sniffed the
electric air before running up the front steps of the ramshackle
Victorian. I looked at the usual clutter of complete and partial
motorcycles occupying the drive and side terrace, but nothing
registered; I was here for sex, not mechanics.

As I waited for her to answer the door, I daydreamed about my
unusual friend. A real lesbian's lesbian--butch as a USMC bulldog--
she was tough without being mean, strong without being pushy. I
loved her quite deeply in our special way; we loved and trusted
each others' bodies and souls, and knew that we could never try to
expand our relationship beyond its natural limits (lest we kill each
other).

The Joker that answered the door looked different. Her usually spiky,
jagged red hair was longer and actually looked to have been washed
and combed within the past few hours. Her hair was also a softer,
less rusty color. The smile she flashed me, and the light that
beamed in her ocean-colored eyes, spoke of a much happier woman than the
guarded, metal-hard Joker usually found in the cruel world.

Joker was wearing, in deference to the heat, a loose sleeveless
T shirt and baggy cotton shorts. Her bare legs were the same as usual;
unshaven, thus shaded with fine orange hairs, scabbed, scarred and
scraped from a thousand and one encounters with the pavement.
In spite of this, they were fine, trim, muscular legs, the legs of
a woman warrior, and I looked at them with undisguised relish. Joker's
small, hard breasts danced delightfully in her loose shirt--I don't
know whether she even _owns_ a bra--and her distinct, pointed,
always slightly hard nipples poked at the thin cotton fabric.

After my surprise at how happy and relaxed she looked, before I could 
say anything, Joker handed me surprise number two. She threw her arms 
around my neck (strong as she is, it was like being taken into custody) 
and planted a big, wet, lengthy, progressively more invasive kiss on my 
handily open mouth. This fundamentally lesbian amazon kissed me as if I 
were a 19 year old farm girl just off the Grey Dog from Kansas.

``Hey'' I said, when I could breathe. ``Not that I mind, but what's got 
you so tender all of a sudden?''

Joker took my right hand and placed its palm on her chest, over her breast. 
I could feel the nipple positively stirring itself into erection. 
``Sometimes I just feel like a man--''

``Sometimes you just look like a man'' I broke in, maliciously.

``--sometimes I just feel like a woman who wants a man around for a while'' 
she went on, smiling. ``It's mucho non-PC, but today I want somebody to hang 
out with me and hold me and play with me who's bigger and has a deep voice 
and a beard...and since you're the only man that I would allow to even 
so much as touch me on the shoulder, I want you to be _my man_.''

I bowed. ``Honored, ma'am. Let the first annual `girl-for-a-day' festival 
begin.''

We sauntered, arm in arm, down the plant-filled hallway and into the 
plant-filled living room. A nut for plants and very gifted with a green thumb, 
Joker keeps every room in her house looking like a jungle. This can come in 
quite handy if people take a notion to play Tarzan and Jane (although Joker 
usually portrays Tarzan).

We flopped down on a big, dark red, overstuffed couch that faced the usual 
five-section bay window in the front of the house. The light coming in was 
definitely working down to the metallic grey of rain clouds. One of Joker's 
cats, Trinidad, jumped over the back of the couch and landed in my lap. I 
pummeled, pounded, and beat the cat savagely with my fist, getting a great 
wash of double-stroke purring back. (I love, and get along with, cats about
as deeply as I do women; although I don't have sex with cats...)

Joker leaned over toward me and Trinidad shot out from between us like a cork 
out of a bottle. ``More kissing! More kissing!'' Joker murmured. I was 
agreeable. We kissed and traded tongue messages and rubbed each others' backs, 
shoulders, and chests, for several minutes. Finally it was I who had to break 
for air.

``Excuse me, darling'' I said suavely. ``There's something caught at an odd 
angle in my pants.'' I wriggled about in an effort to adjust everything.

***

Like most flats from the 1910-1925 era, Joker's place had a dining room, a 
sizable room between the living room and the kitchen. Joker's had never been 
used as a dining room; sometimes it had a disassembled Harley strewn around 
it, sometimes some building project, sometimes tables and racks of secondary 
house plants.

Today, there was little in the dining room besides a large, fancy 
old-fashioned barber's chair. It was a beauty, a pedestal-based Koken, 
probably from the 1920's, fully kept up, with green leather upholstery and 
gleaming brass, bronze, and chrome steel fittings.

``That's amazing!''

Joker went over and worked the back and pedaled the seat up and down. 
``Yeah, I gave five hundred bucks, some orchids, and a clutch assembly for 
it.''

***

``Well, it's been a long time since I did this'' I said, which was somewhat of 
a lie. ``You gotta meet me halfway on this, Joke.''

Joker narrowed her eyes and looked at me. ``Meaning what?''

I grinned. ``Meaning you go into submission. Tied to the chair.''

She exploded in laughter. ``Bullshit! You're already having more than half the 
fun. It's an _honor_ to shave somebody's pussy--especially mine, you're all 
the time drooling and sniveling about how it's the most beautiful one in the 
world, and stuff...'' It takes a brave woman to say things like `drooling and 
sniveling' to a man who's about to top her with a straight razor in his hand; 
brave or stupid, or both.

I walked toward the door. ``Take it or leave it.''

``All right all right!'' I knew she'd go for it; it was a foregone conclusion 
ever since she told me over the phone that she'd been masturbating at the very 
thought. Hee hee.

``Tell ya what we're gonna do'' I chanted, as I walked over next to the barber 
chair and took a stiff, resisting Joker into my arms. ``You're going to take 
off all your little clothesies'' I said, sickeningly cute, kissing the side of 
her neck, ``and place your pink lil' bottom in the nice chair'' , kissing her 
collarbone, which tasted wonderfully of sweat, ``and then Starr is going to 
tie your arms and legs to the nice chair so you can hold real still.'' She 
stiffened again, but didn't try to evade my grasp or dodge away from my tongue 
as I licked her hard, flat chest between her breasts.

``You evil fuck!'' she said. ``What if I let you tie me all up and then you 
don't do what I asked you here to do?''

``Well, darlin', I will. I swear. I'll shave you as clean as a newborn. And 
then, like the old-fashioned barber shops used to do, we offer a range of 
additional services for no extra charge.'' I grinned. ``You know, massages, 
hot applications, and so on.''

***

Knowing that I liked a tease, Joker denied me by shucking out of her two skimpy
garments as fast as if they were on fire. She smirked evilly at me as she 
threw the T shirt and shorts to the corner of the room and stood next to the 
chair, stark naked and twanging with muscles.

I didn't say anything, just stood there, a few feet away, and had a good look. 
I stared so hard that I was gratified to see a bit of a blush start on the 
face and neck of my tough byker buddy. Joker's physique was certainly no 
entree to the Miss Anything contest or Penthouse, but, Lord, did she look good 
to me! Slim, strong arms and legs, not ripped, but the stage just before it; 
broad, proud shoulders; small, widely spaced, somehow _tough_ looking breasts, 
with wildly exciting dark pink nipples that seemed to stare back at me; and 
the target for today, under a washboard abdomen and flat, smooth belly, a lacy 
patch of glowing orange pubes. And under _that_, as previously stated, 
feminine treasures that made both men and women weak in the knees and warm in 
the form, merely to behold. And _I_ was going to play with all this for hours! 
Life is not merely good, life is fucking great!

I kept the emotion out of my face and told her to climb into the chair. More 
treats for the eyes as Joker settled herself in the ornate chair, her bare 
bottom on the green leather, a tantalizing hint of bright pink outer lips 
showing at the junction of her thighs.

***

It was the work of a minute to secure Joker's wrists and elbows to the metal 
arms of the barber chair. I used the nicely padded velcro and leather 
restraints she always kept in good order, idly wondering how many dozen female 
limbs had been tied down, up, and apart with these things over the years.

When I moved down to the legs, I saw I had a problem. If I tied Joker's ankles 
to the footrest of the chair, her thighs would be too close together for what 
I needed to do. I paced about for a moment, considering alternate 
possibilities. Then I approached the chair and ran my hands behind Joker's 
hips and grasped each haunch.

``Ooof!'' she said. ``What's up...Sir?''

``I'm arranging you, miss customer.'' Strong and flexible as she is, working 
with me, Joker soon found herself slanted back in the chair, her thighs spread 
wide, one leg over each arm of the chair and tied there at the knee, and each 
lower leg dangling down the outside to where I loosely fastened the ankle to 
the chair's framework. This position was not particularly uncomfortable. It 
looked like it could be held for some time without cramping, and, most 
importantly, now provided a visual and physical access between Joker's legs 
that heated my eye sockets just to look at it.

Joker squinted down her front. ``Tell me, sir, is my pussy still beautiful?''

Whatta manipulative bottom! I loved it. ``Yes, miss, pretty as a picture...'' 
no two ways about it. I now noticed that her rusty orange pubic hair was on 
the sparse side--been shaving on the sly, eh miss?--but it really didn't 
matter, because the view of her warm, slightly pouted pussy and strong, 
perfectly rounded anus was casting a spell over me.

***

Foosh went the aerosol shaving cream onto my victim's--excuse me, customer's 
skin. I squirted a lot of it on her pubic mound, and then squirted a lump of 
foam on the tip of each hard nipple, just for decoration. I looked up. Joker 
was looking at me with this irresistably cute expression, a kind of grin and 
glare at the same time. ``Let's let that foam sink in for a bit'' I said. I 
leaned on the arm of the chair and idly ran my fingertips down the insides of 
her thighs and buttocks. Joker didn't tickle but she fidgeted rewardingly.

Planning next to interfere with Joker's body in a serious way, I dragged on 
fresh latex gloves.

I walked around in front of Joker and knelt down so that my face was on a 
level with her center. I admired the crease of her butt and her pink, 
perfectly circular, strong-looking anus. This woman's parts were _all_ 
gorgeous! I stroked Joker's asshole lightly with my fingertips.

``Yah! Don't DO that!''

I arched an eyebrow and looked up at her. This must have been pretty funny 
looking, to see the top part of my face sort of growing up from between her 
legs, with a fringe of shaving foam framing my chin. ``How's that again?'' 
I asked cheerfully.

``Don't play with my ass while I'm tied up like this!''

``Oh? Why not? Don't you like this?'' I asked, just hooking the end of my 
middle finger in the tight, smooth ring of muscle.

``No! No!''

``How about this?'' I smiled. I started working the fingertip back and forth. 
Joker's asshole was dry or nearly so, but I knew that if I worked steadily and 
not violently, that I could gradually ease my finger in without really hurting 
her. I mean, it's been in there before.

I decided to go ahead. Her mouth was saying no, but her asshole felt like it 
was trying to obtain more of the finger by sheer muscular suction.

***

I couldn't track the point at which `don't put it in' became `don't take it 
out,' or when `no more' turned into `please, more.' But after a couple 
minutes, all of my middle finger was inside Joker's tight, hot, clenching 
asshole. I moved the finger from side to side and crooked it in a beckoning 
motion, rather than trying to slide it in and out as I had applied no lube and 
didn't want to chafe her.

At the same time I was tickling the inside of my customer's bottom, I 
exchanged long, complicated, deep kisses with her (a strain on the wrist, by 
the way--try it yourself and you'll see--but worth it). I have always loved 
kissing Joker. When we were first getting to know each other, she was so 
fierce and apparently unilaterally gay that I was reluctant to try to find out 
if she had feelings for me as a man. I remained almost shy (a dopey term in 
the context of the kind of life I lead, but, yes, I am quite shy at times) 
until Joker made the first move. We used to spend hours sitting halfway up the
back stairs at Toby's place, kissing and touching each other like two 
16-year-olds. In a weird, obscure way, Joker appealed to my bisexual side and 
my het side; if you would reach out and grab her by the shoulder, biceps, 
calves etc., you would swear that she was a slender, muscular man. At the same 
time, her feminine characteristics were pronounced and exceptionally 
beautiful. Her hawklike face could go from intimidating to soft and tender in 
the passing of a cloud shadow.

As I kissed and fingered, I remembered the time that Joker and I first made 
het Watcher love. We were all alone in the playroom. I thought she had asked 
me over for BDSM play, and was a little nervous with thoughts of which role
did she favor and what kinds of things did she need and want. While I was 
fingering the wrist and ankle cuffs, Joker walked over and stood close to me. 
``Toby tells me you get a lot from visual aspects.''

I grinned. ``I like to watch, and look, if that's what you mean.''

***

My memories of our first play session continued as I prepared the shaving 
gear...

Joker, totally nude, lay on the futon, her lower legs dangling to the floor, 
her thighs spread. I sat meditation-fashion on the floor, in vertical and 
horizontal alignment with Joker's pussy.  Her pubic hair was a fascinating 
orange-red,, almost a dayglo tone, that I had never actually seen before. 
``That is...magnificent'' I said sincerely.

``What shall I do?''

``Pet it lightly--rub on the outside a little.'' A long, rough hand snaked 
down over Joker's belly and began to stroke the orange fleece and the bright 
pink edges of her outer lips. I saw that in addition to the usual chipped 
knuckles Joker sported a large but clean bandaid on her middle finger. 
Motorcycle repairs are not kind to hands, but masturbating motorcycle repair 
persons learn to ignore dings and booboos.

I sat there for a while, chin supported in my hands, elbows on my thighs, and 
just gazed and supervised. Joker's style with herself tended to be as abrupt 
and hard-edged as her style with others. I kept telling her to slow down, 
gentle down, think of her pussy as a langorous beast that needed to be stroked 
into wakefulness rather than roughed into submission. I made her stop and pull 
on a fingertip's worth of coppery hairs, paying attention to the delicate 
sensation as the underlying flesh was stretched at a dozen points. I required
her to grasp and pinch first one swelling outer lip and then the other, to 
feel the soft toughness of her secret flesh. I told her to place her palm flat 
over her entire pubis and slowly move the handful of sensitive organs up and 
down over her hard pubic bone...

***

``Why...ummm...do you want women to masturbate for you?'' Joker asked, as she 
followed my directions. Her neck and chest were red and hot-looking with a 
healthy sexual flush, and she very nearly shuddered as she palmed between her 
legs.

``Why? Don't you like it?''

Joker stuck out her tongue. ``Obviously, I fuckin' hate it.''

I shrugged. ``It's a fetish. Had it all my life. When I met Toby, she 
clarified it for me. Some people can't do anything BUT look--lonely way of 
life, I'd say...''

***

``Okay. Time to see what's going on inside.''

``How do you want me to--?''

``To begin with, take both your hands and spread your outer lips and just 
kind of hold yourself open.''

Joker grinned a sappy, horny grin, joined her thumbs above the arch of her 
vulva, and used her index fingers to trap and separate her major lips. I 
leaned forward for a better look. ``Good God!'' I muttered involuntarily.

``What is it? What's the matter?''

I exhaled a deep breath that I hadn't known I was holding. ``Joker, I don't 
know if you ever had anybody say this to you before, but you have the most 
beautiful pussy I have ever seen!...And I have _seen_ some.''

She craned her neck in a vain attempt to see into her own crotch. ``Beautiful? 
How so?''

Beautiful? How so? I was at a loss for words, and that happens from seldom to 
never. My mind groped for related images--I visualized a mound of rose petals 
from several different varieties of rose, colors like carmine and hot pink and 
dusky tan and even a rich, lush purple, rose petals that fell and arranged 
themselves in a living pattern before being scattered by a hot west wind. I 
saw a chalice made of ivory and rubies, delicately chased and filligreed, from 
which I might drink the secret elixer of eternal life. I saw the warm, rich
Second Mouth, the Vertical Smile, and wondered what secrets I could compel 
from it with my ardent kisses...


*Part II

Day-dreaming was all well and good, but the reality was that I was standing 
in a dining room with one hand partway in my friend's ass and the other 
holding a clean, sharp straight razor. I slowly and carefully withdrew my 
finger from Joker's tight ass, discarded the current pair of gloves, and put 
on new ones. Joker leaned back in the padded chair and closed her eyes, 
slowing her breathing until the rise and fall of her muscular chest was 
barely discernable.

I took my thumb and pushed the shaving cream around on Joker's mound until it 
felt satisfactory. Then, one hand grasping the leather strop while the other 
wielded the razor, I began to prepare.

***

The razor was fine old German carbon steel, made in Solingen in the peaceful, 
smoldering years between the Kaiser's fall and Hitler's rise. I stropped it 
only a few times per side, using the smooth, oily horsehide strop, and then 
tested the edge by dry-shaving a stripe of hair from my forearm. The blade 
sheared off the hairs like a north wind blowing through a grassfield.

I moved into position, hovering over Joker's crotch. ``This is it, baby, '' 
I warned. ``No fidgeting or funny business now, or you'll find yourself 
needing bandages in a place that'll shut down your social life but good.'' 
Joker gave me a very odd smile, feral, her lips pulled back off her incisors 
and her eyes slitted down like a cat's.

``Do it'' Joker growled. I suppressed a start; didn't want to compromise the 
confidence of the client. She even _sounded_ like a big jungle cat. I knew 
that voice; I had heard it before, sometimes growled into my ear as we tussled 
and strove in one of our infrequent sexual clashes. That voice was also the 
voice Joker used when she had some frothy piece of blond airheaded candy 
already half-insane with pussy-lapping, and was gentling the girl like you 
would gentle a horse, while rolling her hand around in the Crisco and eyeing 
the newbie's little pink cunt. That was the voice Joker cried with, and 
mumbled and groaned and yelped with, at the climax of hours with Toby, Joker
lashing and scraping at her own sex under the direction of the mysterious 
dominatrix.

The advent of the animal voice told me that advanced magic was going to happen 
in this little room.

***

Just as I poised myself for the first stroke, we heard, through the open 
window, a tapping, splatting sound. I carefully laid the razor aside and 
looked out. This particular window was guarded from street view by a very old, 
very large split-leaf philodendron. As I looked, a drop of water went Plap! on 
one huge dusty green leaf and rolled down. Then another drop, then another, 
and then more than the eye and ear could track. It was finally raining. The 
silvery light coming in through the window and the incredible nostalgic smell
of fresh water on hot pavements made me feel happy and whole and sentimental...

I turned back to the woman roped in the chair and smiled. ``The rain finally 
came'' I smiled, picking up the razor and towel.  ``And so will you, presently, my love.''

***

The bitterly sharp razor glided over the smooth flesh with only a whisper of 
regret as the soft orange hairs were severed at their bases. The track left 
behind each stroke was incredibly clean and fresh looking; no roots, stubble, 
or bumps. Just pale, glowing redhead skin.

***

With each stroke of the razor, Joker made a little moan. She was being good, 
and careful; she didn't squirm, she didn't shift. She held perfectly still. 
But she did emit those little moans, in a dark, hoarse, blurred voice. The 
sounds were damned close to growls or purrs, as I had expected.

Her soft noises blended in with the steady drumming cloudburst. Every once in 
a while a car would drive hissingly by on the street outside, one of my 
favorite sounds. I found myself slowing down my movements in the watery light 
of the dining room, as though we were in a underwater dream.

***

I wiped over the entire area with a damp, warm towel. I patted the fresh skin 
dry with a soft, fluffy dry white towel. Then I stepped back a pace to admire 
my handiwork.

This hairless center was definitely that of a mature woman; no preadolescent 
ever sported those glowing, flared outer lips or the vivid inner petals that 
now no longer completely hid the gleaming head of Joker's clitoris. Without 
fur, this tableau now reminded me of the peak of Art Deco or Streamline 
design; vaulting arches of winglike planes framing a mysteriously shaded 
portal, with the proud clit standing vigil at the top of the cathedral.

Joker looked at me audibly. I don't know how this is done but it involves, 
I suppose, snapping something about the eyes. It worked.  I looked up and met 
her gaze. She mouthed a phrase.

``Pardon?'' I said, leaning up.

``Untie me. Please.'' she whispered.

``Nope.'' I whispered back, grinning.

``I gotta go to the bathroom'' Joker mumbled.

``To do what?''

``...to urinate, you monster! I been in this chair over an hour...''

I smiled and bowed. ``Oh, you don't have to go all the way to the bathroom 
just for that, customer dear. I told you this was a full-service facility.'' 
I skipped through into the kitchen and was back with a clean stainless steel 
bowl before Joker could frame a retort.

***

``I'm supposed to--''

``Shhh...'' I cautioned. ``No excess verbiage. Pay attention to what you're 
doing.'' I took a squint into Joker's swollen vulva and located the minute 
opening of her urethra. I tried to figure trajectory and probable fluid 
pressure as I positioned the bowl. ``Proceed.''

Joker glared at me, but she was also chewing her lower lip ragged in
an effort to keep from breaking out laughing. Finally, she rolled her eyes, 
set her jaw, and did _something_ complicated with her pelvic muscles. (The 
things you get to witness if you're me!) A weak jet of pale liquid appeared 
from her center; I quickly closed in with the bowl and caught it. Soon enough 
we got to the main part of the bladder's contents, and the stream 
strengthened, arced further out. I moved the bowl accordingly, catching every 
drop.

In a way, this was a gift. We all do a bit of this and that with water sports, 
from time to time (although general disinclination and Toby's Ms. Clean 
influence has ruled out scat). This little episode, however, was pretty 
powerful to me, perhaps more so than to Joker. Joker was a woman who very 
seldom gave anything away, even to those closest to her. We have had times 
where we played and fucked and fucked and played until we were both close to 
being ready for the ER, and yet we both knew that Joker had continued to
withhold an entire core of her personality from me. Well, pissing into a bowl 
doesn't seem that overtly committal, maybe. It depends on the people involved. 
Next time you have a woman tied to a barber chair, ask her if she would piss 
in a bowl for you, and see what kind of reaction you get...

At any rate, I captured all but the last few drops, without any splashing on 
me or on my customer. I set the bowl aside and meticulously patted Joker dry 
with yet another clean towel. When the nubby towel touched the sensitive area 
between her legs, Joker looked into deep space and emitted a truly startling 
sound; now she sounded like a tiger, pacing its cage and dreaming of fresh-
killed deer on toast.

I leaned down and looked into her eyes. ``Something?'' I said.

``Puh-lease untie me!''

``Why?''

``We're finished!''

I laughed. ``You are the least finished person I've seen all month.''

``Let me LOOSE!'' Joker strained against the wristbands.

``No. Give me one good reason.''

``I...I'm...I want to...''

``Tell me in plain language, cunt, or I'll go home and leave you here with 
nothing but cats and fresh urine for company.'' I made as if to turn and walk 
out.

``NO!...I wanna...finish. I want to come! I'm so horny everything
_hurts_!...'' Joker trailed off and looked wildly from the rain-
swept window to the blank wall on the other side of the room.

``Oh, that's all?'' I said annoyingly. ``You don't have to be untied just for 
a teeny little orgasm, or a great big one, for that matter.'' I knelt in front 
of the chair and placed my hands on either side of the bases of Joker's 
thighs, then used my thumbs to spread her outer labia. ``I told you this was a 
full service service'' I added. I moistened my tongue and dived in.

***

No latex between the tongue and the groove in our little set of perverts. 
Everybody brings home a negative HIV test 2 to 4 times a year. And, Toby 
having, in her square life working for a big corporation, better online access 
to medical and scientific data than does the CIA, our lead domina monitors the 
latest research and finds the number of actual cases of infected lick-ees 
to be zero and infected lick-ers to be on the order of 9 out of X million.
So I got to search the contours of the World's Most Beautiful Pussy with my 
naked, wet, enthusiastic tongue.

***

After I slicked up my still-gloved left middle finger using Joker's free-flowing
natural lube, I swirled it around her lovely asshole and then put the finger 
in, rather quickly, rather roughly. Joker caught her breath and held it while 
her body processed the familiar sensation, then moaned a lengthy moan and went 
back to shorter, panting noises.

***

With my free hand I teased Joker's secondary lips open and up until I could 
see, and place the tip of my tongue on, her naked clitoris. The second I 
licked her clit, she began to shudder and moan and climb up the steep slope to 
climax. Watching Joker making love, with anybody else or by herself, was one 
of my favorite activities; just like she would wrestle with and tame her cycle,
she looked on sex as something that demanded hard, determined work, and she 
put every ounce of her body and spirit into it.

I put the thumb of my free hand into the entrance to Joker's cunt. I continued 
licking and sucking her hard, warm clit.

***

I don't remember if the Judeo-Christian gospels take any sort of position or 
interpretation on the clitoris; it surely makes me feel that there is a 
divinity that not only shapes our ends, but puts the most marvelous 
sophisticated accessories into those ends. I get the same welling up of 
religious fervor when I look at and caress these marvelous contrivances as did 
the Aztecs when they beheld the rising sun. Not only is there a God, He is a 
genetic engineer with a first-class dirty mind.

***

I could feel Joker's arms and legs straining mightily against the restraints. 
Her pelvis seemed to vibrate wildly although in actuality everything stayed 
pretty still relative to my working fingers and tongue.

She was really getting into it now. Her breathing began to sound like an 
animal getting ready to give birth; harsh, wavering shudders on the in-breath, 
and long, unearthly moans on the exhale. Her thighs clenched, her buttocks 
clenched (and almost shoved my finger out of her ass--you could probably crack 
cocoanuts with those babies).

``Staaarrr!'' Joker moaned.

``Yes, love?''

``Two fingers! Unh! In...''

She was working up to something big, I could tell. Joker seldom gave any 
orders or requests this late. I removed my thumb from her vaginal canal and 
substituted my index and middle finger, never losing the rhythm of my tongue 
work slightly northward.

``Mmmmm! ...Turn 'em OVER!!''

I rotated my hand until it was palm up. Just for funsies, I extended the 
finger of the other hand, inside Joker's ass, until it could sort of feel the 
other two fingers through the intervening woman. A fun thing to do. Joker 
howled. A cat sneaked into the room, ears laid back, and glared at me with 
obvious suspicion.

Joker moaned again. ``Gee...'' Gee? Running out of vocabulary? ``G-spot.''

Oh. I had never tried this with Joker, but my lightning-fast mind put some 
clues together...masturbating all day, another hour's worth of stimulation in 
the chair, pissing in the bowl and thus emptying the bladder...seemed like a 
definite go. 

***

I began a beckoning motion with the fingers of my right hand, all the while 
teasing Joker's hard, slippery clithead with my talented tongue. I palpated 
all up and down what would be the inside upper wall of the woman's taut, gushy 
cunt, pressing toward the pubic bone. I felt a number of likely places, but 
nothing very distinct.

``Joke?'' I murmured, barely raising my face from between her legs. Joker's 
head was thrown back and her neck positively pumped; she was working this 
orgasm along with sheer muscle power. ``Baby?'' I continued. ``You're gonna 
have to guide me a little here...''

Joker swiveled her head down and looked sightlessly at me. Her face was 
clenched in an expression that if I had not known the reason for would have 
frightened me. ``Ohhhh Kayyy'' she breathed. ``Back down to the entrance, and 
work up a half inch at a time.'' I complied. ``And when I tell you, stay there 
and press REALLY hard!''

Left hand probing Joker's anus, mouth still making love to her clit, I probed 
slowly with two fingers, moving a gnat's eyelash at a time. Joker began to get 
into really heavy breathing. Her arms and legs flexed against the restraints 
until the old barber chair creaked with the strain. I could feel her whole 
body center beginning to flex in waves. I sucked her now-receding clit as far 
into my mouth as it seemed to want to go, and then very lightly began nibbling 
on it with my front teeth.  Joker screamed.

The cat got up and left in disgust.

My fingers finally got to where they were supposed to be. Joker _bounced_ in 
the chair. ``TheretheretherepressHARD!'' she yelled. I thought I felt some 
difference, some extra toughness, in the texture under my fingers. I pressed 
hard. Joker screamed again. Her cunt started to convulse like a stamping 
machine. I pressed with my fingers and agitated her bottom with my other hand. 
Joker made a steel arch out of her body; if the straps had not been present, 
she might have flown out of the chair and across the room by sheer orgasmic 
contraction power.

Joker came for what seemed like many seconds. I backed off on everything
I was doing, but, remembering my G spot lore, figured that there was
more to be had. I waited until Joker seemed to be once again among the Earth 
people, and then started rubbing the spot again. ``I don't think I can'' Joker 
whimpered weakly.

``Betcha can,'' I rejoined, through a mouthful of labia minora.

She flashed me a dirty, sweaty, slutty Joker grin. ``How d'ya know?''

``Professional secrets'' I said. I kept on rubbing in the same general
interior area, and 30 seconds later she was back up again. I waited
until it seemed like she was as high as she could go, and then inhaled
her clit, as before, and this time gave the hard little bud a sharp
bite! Not enough to injure, but definitely enough to shock.

And shock Joker did! She started coming again, this time crying and
sobbing, her nose running, her hands now weakly flapping in their
restraints. I took the finger out of her bottom. Still she convulsed.
I stopped licking her clit. Now it was only my two fingers and Joker
in her entirety. Still she snapped and writhed, her whole central
body from buttocks to chest seeming to undergo human earth tremors.

After some extremely final-sounding gasps, Joker found enough voice
and vocabulary to blurt ``Fingers! Out!.''

Witlessly I replied ``You sure?''

``Fingers OUT, dammit!!'' she barked.

I slid my fingers out. What was this...?

She was still coming! How neat. She squinted at me and grinned. ``Ha ha'' she 
said.

``Ha ha what?''

``Look...'' Joker nodded with her chin, indicating her cunt. I bent down once 
again and looked. Fascinating! Things were still sort of twitching and 
snapping of their own accord.

``Look inside...'' she muttered. Inside? I put my face close down into 
Joker's crotch and caught hold of her quivering outer lips and began to 
spread open her puss--

Sploosh!

What the fuck? WHAT the FUCK??

A faceful--two eyes full--a mouthful--a motherfucking BEARD full--
of clear, pale-to-transparent fluid. Like opening a ship's porthole
below the waterline. I was too astonished to move, and Joker laughed
along with the next contraction, and that brought out _another_ gusher, 
which decorated my neck and upper chest.

``Gee'' I said, tasting a little bit of it on my lips. Not much taste
to speak of.

Joker finally appeared to be winding down. The remainder of the surprise
fluid dribbled out of her now relaxed cunt and dripped down the seat and 
legs of the barber chair. Good thing I don't have to clean up that mess, I 
ruminated, until I remembered that _I_ was a similar mess.

``Game's over'' Joker giggled. ``Untie me.''

``Hah! Fat chance! What's your next plan? Have your period in my ear?''

***

Twenty minutes later found us in Joker's big old-fashioned clawfooted
bathtub, wallowing in bubbles, sipping a little local Rhine wine,
listening to the welcome rain as it continued to patter and splatter
on the windowsill. I love bathing (an ingenuous observation, I guess)
and I love bathing with a woman (or women), so you could say I was having 
a good time.

Joker rubbed the red marks on her lean wrists. ``I gotta get softer restraints 
if I'm going to get into that kind of stuff'' she smiled.

I reached over and lazily ran my hand down the side of her face. ``Tell me 
the truth, Joker'' I said. ``You jerked me around again, didn't you?''

She sat up straight in the tub and placed the flat of her hand against her 
wet, shiny chest, in a gesture of innocence. ``Me? Ole straight-
forward straight-shooting straight arrow Joker?''

``Only thing straight about you is a clutch cable. And I wouldn't
count on--that!'' She had snuck one hand under the water and captured
my balls in a sneak attack.

``I'm talking--I'll give you two weeks to stop that--about that gusher.
``Look!'' she says. ``Look in there!'' she says. And I, the sucker that was 
born every minute, look, and get slimed.''

Joker grinned and licked her lips. ``Seemed like the thing to do at the 
time...I been trying for a G spot orgasm for the last six months. It's not 
well defined inside me; you felt that. Well, me myself and two vibrators, and 
two other dykes, serially and concurrently, couldn't make it work.''

I had to grin back.``So who ya gonna call?''

``Cuntbusters!'' she laughed. ``I needed those big old hands of yours and 
that big old tongue--did you ever think of hanging everything else up and 
becoming a professional pussy-licker? You'd make a fortune.''

``Not if I was subject to being drowned with female ejac'' I grimaced.
``What IS that stuff, anyway?''

``Nobody really knows. It's not urine, and it's not lymphatic exudate,
and it's not the female analog of sperm vehicle.'' Joker went on playing
with my balls under the bathwater, and brought down her other hand and
began slowly squeezing my erection as well. It was like there were two 
sets of people in the tub; one set urbanely reclining and discussing
sexology, the other set subaqeously stirring up sexual heat.

***

Suddenly I had an impulse. ``How cold do you think that rain is?''

Joker peered at me from under a large fluffy towel.``Not very, I
s'pose. It was hotter than hell before it started.''

I picked up a handful of towels and a tube of Astroglide. My cock was
hard to the point of pulsation, and I could see Joker sneaking looks
at it and wondering what the heck I had been waiting for. ``That
ladder still lead up to the roof? You still go up there to sunbathe?''

She looked at me confusedly. ``Redheads don't much sunbathe...what are
you getting at?''

I told her. I showed her. We climbed naked up to the roof, and lay
down on the towels in the steady, warm rain. The world was many
shades of greenish grey from our vantage point. But Joker's lovely
hairless pussy shone like a jewel in the gloom. I held her up--
and held her _open_--and let the rain fall into her cunt, tickly
drop by tickly drop. Then I drank from my tough lady's chalice, warm 
fresh water with hints of soap and sex. I licked along the sensitive beauty 
that my barbering had revealed, and she shivered and wriggled and begged to 
be let rest. So while her treasure rested, Joker came to me with mouth and 
hands and pointy nipples and small, sharp teeth, and drew me to a climax 
that for a moment erased the rain, and all else.

*** The end Part 2 of 2 November 1991 ***

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