Wax first, fuck second

“Do you want to do it before, or after?” We’re going to wax River’s landing strip today. And fuck. But which to do first? It’s so different from the time she had her sphinx done at the spa, and didn’t want to do it at all the previous day, to make sure she wouldn’t drip. It doesn’t matter, I said. They’re professionals. Everybody drips now and then. Even them. But I have to think. I wouldn’t mind seeing her drip if we fuck first wax second. I’d like it. Maybe too much. I’d come barely inside so I could watch it drip out. Then I’d want to eat her dripping, freshly waxed pussy. But if we wax first fuck second then we’ll get to put her landing strip to good use right away. And she’s going out of town, so we won’t get another chance for about a week. “After.” Wax first. Fuck second. If she still wants to do it after getting the better part of her bush ripped out.

She takes her jeans off and sits casually on the bed like I’m going to eat her. I get a sacrificial towel, scissors, and the wax jar I’ve warmed in the microwave. River’s bush is well-lit by the reading lamp she’s moved onto the bed. Using wax is new to me. I’ve used sugar before. On myself. Now I realize how easy I had it. Wax is messy. It’s hard to keep drips from getting in the wrong places. My hands. My shirt. Her bush. And unlike sugar, it doesn’t clean up with water. What are we going to clean up with? The little bottle of stuff that came in the kit might do it. Or it might not. I’ll stick with the ounce of prevention strategy and be careful. If I can.

I’ve read the instructions but River gives me a refresher. “Put it on in the direction the hair is growing. Pull the skin at the bottom tight—that’s important—and rip it off the other direction. Then press your hand down on it for a few seconds.” “Let’s talk style. What do you want left?” “Up here and around the lips.” “Leave it around the lips? Isn’t that kind of seventies?” “The seventies are coming around again.” That’s not what I want to hear. And not just for reasons of pubic fashion.

We trim things up first. I start giving her an all-over trim until she reminds me we’re leaving the strip in the middle. The first batch of wax is the most difficult. How thick. How warm. How much. Get it in the right place. Hold the skin. Rip. Press my healing hand to her savaged flesh. When I take my hand away there’s some leftover wax and my hand sticks to her. I pull her hairs and she winces. “That hurt worse than the rip.” “Sorry.”

It’s going well. River is her usual calm and collected and reassuring self. I still prefer sugar. But she likes wax better. I’m getting used to it. Trying to keep the wax where I want it. And the rips are pretty clean. Until I forget to pull the skin down. And it’s a slow rip. And it takes two yanks. She’s brave. “Sorry again. We can trade places and you can get me back.” I wish. “I don’t need revenge.” Oh well.

We’ve cleared the gutters. We work on the shape. I’ve gone closer to the center on the right so I even it up on the left. In closer to her lips. One more rip to even the top. A good clean rip. Holding the skin at the bottom. My hand pressing her flesh afterwards. Removing it carefully. All done.

Will that little bottle of stuff clean up wax? It will. I’m not sure I want to know what kind of solvent we’re putting on her in such a delicate place. River cleans her skin and what’s left of her pubic hair while I do my hands. And my shirt. And my pants. “It’s kind of cooling. It feels nice.” “I wish I could soothe your skin with my tongue.” “It might get numb.” I quickly run my tongue over her pussy. It tastes strange. Somewhat minty. Not what I expect when I eat her pussy. The feel of my nose against her bush is comforting, but her pussy should taste like pussy.

She gets off the bed, walks into the room, and turns. Wow. I call it a landing strip. She calls it a mohawk. Whatever. She’s hot. Even with her angry red skin. We did a good job.

We’ve waxed. Now we fuck. She makes me strip. Takes her shirt off. Her compact tits look great with her new compact bush.

She’s doing me on top, by request. We sit facing each other and she works on my cock. Knows when to pull it towards her. Knows when she can slide her hand down the shaft. “You’re leaking.” “With good reason.” We’re about to fuck. She milks my cock, running her thumb up the bottom, pressing the thin, clear, slippery liquid out the slit. I lean back and she brushes my nipple. Then she hovers over me. Her fleshy labia dangle enticingly from her denuded pubes. I want to suck them into my mouth. Swirl my tongue around them. Neither of us is much for 69 but I find myself wanting it right now, her on top, even with her minty pussy.

She takes my cock and rubs the tip teasingly against the pussy lips that I love so much. Then between them. My fingertips trace over her small breasts. “I’m not decisive enough yet.” “A decisive stick-in isn’t everything.” She stands over me, reaches for my cock, holds it in place, and slips onto it, taking it fully into her pussy.

Her snatch looks like it means business, with its lean new look. No longer the warm fuzzy of her full bush. Stripped down. A racing stripe. There’s a nice visual interplay between the two thick vertical lines of my cock and her pubic hair.

The squat for single point. I can’t help but fuck back a bit as she slips her cunt up and down my cock. “You don’t have to do that the whole time.” Even though it’s my favorite. “What else?” “135. Reverse cowgirl.” “And I want to do some hello kitty.” I’d be happy to. It’s another of my favorites. Our favorites. She spins into 135 and pumps my cock at an angle. Reverse cowgirl between my spread legs, me pushing her ass away, her falling back onto my cock. I raise my legs and cross them on her back. She checks the view between her legs as she plunges her hole onto my cock.

Hello kitty time. River in front with her legs together, me behind with my legs spread and my balls on her feet. Her cunt grips hungrily at my cock as she fucks me with it. She leans forward into low doggy. Her ass pushing straight back at me. Maybe we can do it this time. “This always makes me want to . . .” I press my cock against her asshole. But she reaches down and slots it back into her pussy. And it feels wonderful. Warm. Wet. Squishy.

We get River back on top for the finish. Straight-up River on top. I can see the strip of her fur again while she rides me. “I’ve never seen that before.” The strip of dark fuzz plummeting downwards onto my pubic bone with my hard cock under it. It doesn’t detract from her girlness. It emphasizes it.

“It’s working.” I feel my orgasm swell. Let it build while she fucks me. She fucks me good until I come and she pumps and squeezes and holds still and lets me fill her with jizz. “Keep going.” I groan as she coaxes colorful waves of sensation from my super-sensitive cock with the rhythms of her body, up and down, in and out.

I have no memory of how long we stay together, or when we finally uncouple. Only of lying in bed next to her, running my fingers over her vulva, and asking, “How do you feel?” “Fine.” “We should get you on top more often.” “We have been.” Not often enough.