girls (which was a bit embarrassing for me, for I got a fair amount of pleasure, covering the girl's pretty hair with gel) - and then ... Then - I had the same session with Dasha: I sat her topless against the mirror, tied her hands to the chair to torture well, and tried to cause as many sweet discharges as possible on its top, smeared with gel. The result surpassed all expectations: after a minute Dasha howled, trembled, covered with goose bumps - she was shy less than Katie - she cried (for she knows how to weep because of languor) and begged me to untie her hands.

I was in no hurry to do this; leaving her hair in the white flakes of an air conditioner, I squatted in front of her and stung my nipples with my tongue; then he bared her bottom and licked the kisun. My tongue literally drowned in the viscous layer of hot gel that filled Dasha's pussy and flowed out of it onto her legs and clothes. Well well! Dasha moaned with tears in her eyes, begged not to torture her, but I licked her pussy a couple more times, forcing her to writhe, as if from an electric shock, played with tongue with a clitoris and folds, then I got up and went back to my workplace.

Dasha looked at herself, naked, and moaned: “Sssaduga! Well namuchil already, well ... Ooooh! I can not, you know, I can’t ... ”, but I didn’t hurry, slowly massaging and tickling her skin on the head, covered with thick flakes of conditioner. Dasha wriggled like in a frying pan; her face and body were covered with red spots, her breathing was interrupted, as if weeping, tears ran down her cheeks and dripped onto her chest. Finally, I untied her left hand (she was left-handed), began gently kneading her soapy mass of hair, and a second later a room filled with such a hooting cry that the chandelier rang ...

Then a small lake flowed out of Dashka, which happens infrequently - once a month and a half (with Dashka ending, with rare exceptions, every day, sometimes two or three times), and the victim of sexual torture itself swelled in a chair smeared in the air conditioner, in tears and in her own discharge, and with unseeing eyes she stared at nothing. In addition, she was shocked by the fact that for the first time in her life she looked in the mirror at her orgasm. There was a smile on her face, which I saw only in two cases: 1) in babies exuding primal primordial happiness, and 2) in Dashka after atrocious orgasms. Having disgorged the seed, Dasha did not see or hear anything but her own nirvana ...

Orgasm, in a word, was a success, and I walked for three days with a proud rooster. Then I was ashamed to publish a story about this “torture” - it seemed to me too intimate and uninteresting for the general public - and “torture” formed the basis of the fictional tales “Slavery” and “Photosession”.

I understood that my husband as a hairdresser-inquisitor is wonderful, but still a little different: the hair treatment for Dasha and her secret attraction to women merged, becoming her little sexual secret. But there's nothing you can do ...

... I myself ended then "in between", admiring the naked, off-putting wife ...

***

Our most forbidden, most desirable dream is to shave Dasha bald. It will never be realized, I know, because this is tantamount to suicide - but how unthinkable it is pleasant and scary to tease each other with this cruel dream! To tease, incite, tempt, fantasize ... Among other things, there was also such a factor: “will you love a shaved woman?” Dashunya was jealous of her hair! ... It’s stupid, of course, I will always adore Dasha in any form, even painted with green paint - but the woman's heart has its quirks, and I’m shaken by an imaginary Dashyno to tears, to a shiver, to an instant acute erection; Every conversation on this topic always ends with stormy sex.

We sometimes dream that Dasha is shaved, and always against his will. (I am writing “us” because we have the same dream. Unbelievable, but faq).These dreams are sad, like Sting's songs, and sweet, like a forbidden fruit; tears of parting with a miracle give rise to a strange pleasure, which can neither be understood nor described. Dasha wakes up crying, and I play with her hair, burrow into them, savor the happiness of their return, stroke this fluffy miracle, and Dasha, with tears on her cheeks, plunges into the cozy, safe world of reality, and a childish smile blooms on her dark face ...

Once we played scare. We watched videos about shaving girls on Youtube; their abundance confirmed that we are not alone in our strange dream - but the fact that many girls decide ON THIS in the most real, very real reality, made us shiver from the sweet horror. As if the devil, who was tempting us in a dream, suddenly came to our house and rang the doorbell ...

The undeniable reality of these shaving sessions obscured the mind. I began to incite Dasha (hoping that she would laugh at me) - look, they say, these girls decided to shave, and you are weak? Dasha, struggling with temptation, said that they didn’t have such hair - and just at that moment I opened a video clip where a young, surprisingly sweet Latina with indescribably luxurious black braids was shaved to the waist.

This spectacle shocked us, and especially - Dashka; she slowly looked at me, felt her hair ... My heart sank ... and just at that time the poor girl was shaved to the last strand, smeared her bald head with cream and began to drive the machine over her. It was scary to look at the girl's face ... and at Dashkino too. Wide-wide girls' eyes looked in the mirror; horror and desperate determination shone in them ... my heart was bleeding from pity for her, and at the same time from the sacrificial rapture of what was happening. And all this inexplicably flowed into the groin, where the member was a aching horn, requiring immediate caress. Killing your femininity, your beauty, consciously parting with her for the sake of tart beauty-on-the-face-ugliness, beauty of hard lines, sharp outlines ... a real female suicide, and at the same time - an erotic feat!

The brutal, incomprehensible beauty of a shaved girl - when her bald spot was cleaned and wiped - struck us in the very heart; she seemed ugly against the background of the luxurious sensuality of her previous curl - and yet the bald spot was beautiful! It was as if all the scenery, all the surroundings were removed - and they left a naked female “me”, without covers and embellishment, - and this deep “me” turned out to be beautiful and ... feminine. The face sounded with its own music, the line of the bald skull seemed more and more plastic with every second — all that was needed was to turn away from the usual comparison with the thick head of hair. The shaved girl was surprised to see this, feeling her fresh bald spot, and in her eyes glowed like a deep glow, joy — bewildered, suspicious ...

All this time we were silent; and suddenly Dashka hoarsely said:

- Now I will throw a coin. If the eagle - stay home; if it's a head, I'll go shave.

I went cold. I wanted to argue that I would not let her in, but the excitement of the devilish game overcame me, and I silently handed the coin.

Throw. Tackle! ..

It was like a punch in the heart. Dasha raised her eyes to me, full of horror and prayer - “stop me,” they said, “and I looked at her hopelessly as if she were doomed. "Well..."

We got up, got dressed and went to the nearest hairdresser. On the way, almost did not speak, overflowing with general horror and excitement. It was "scary and sweet together"; I imagined Dasha bald, and whined from touching pity for a helpless miracle doomed to deformity. It was a sharp, chilling sensation of a wave that raised and carried, carries us to where it ...

We got to the barber shop. I looked at the sign, felt its reality, - and suddenly something flashed inside me. With a force, he took Dashunya by the shoulders, turned to himself, said:

- Played and that's enough ...

And - Dasha was relieved, gratefully fell into my arms, sobbing and impulsively pressing herself into me, and I stroked her curls - a fluffy treasure that is a little ... Read more →