Bearded No More

But you are not finished revealing me, unmasking me everywhere. You brush the hand aside that I have been stroking myself with. You find some twine in the barber’s drawer and bind my wrists together and hook the coil on a hook on the back of the barber’s chair, just over the top rim. My arms pulled up and back, the muscles of my now-smooth arms and chest are fully flexed for you, on exhibit for your approval. And your eyes slit and burn with desire, showing that you do approve of your handiwork.

The hand I had wrapped around my cock is now replaced with your left hand, as you release mountains of cream across my loins with your right hand and slowly shave my pubic region to total nakedness, total openness to you. You kiss and lick the clean canvas you have created, well pleased with what you have done. My standing cock is buried in a mound of cream, and your mouth takes this luscious éclair in one long enveloping. You play with the hard center of this pastry with your tongue and teeth and soft inner cheek walls and stroke up and down, up and down, up and down on me until my cream mixes with the minty shaving cream, while I am writhing and moaning and sighing at your attention.