Steam. Soap.
Skin. Blade.
Palm stroking wet – up over his shaft, twisting downward, sliding under his balls – the soap lathers into a slick-slide cream between his skin and mine. My hands work in tandem, one sliding up while the other twists down.
It has become a ritual, this. Adding pleasure to an otherwise perfunctory undertaking.
His cock is half-hard, his thigh muscles tensed. The lathered demulcent only half frothed, I continue the massaging glide and watch as he attempts half-heartedly to abrogate the sensations he’s simultaneously reveling in.
I know full well my fingers are imparting pleasure; he knows full well the reason behind it.
Yes. It has become a ritual, this.
Steam. Soap.
Pulled-taut skin. Glinting blade.
Lather.
Shave.
Rinse.
Repeat.
Oh, I love this one.
Love your poetry. I could feel it.
Elliott recently posted…Nothing Like a Close Shave
Sex and danger. Delicious.
Indie xx
Indigo Byrd recently posted…Winter Solstice
Your prose is just brilliant. I also particularly like the patterns you make in your layout 😉
Um, hi, i saw your link on Jz’s blog. And I’m loving reading the pieces i’ve clicked on. I look forward to reading more when i come round more regularly and would love to add you to my blogroll if you don’t mind.
Welcome! I’m glad you’re enjoying what you’ve found here; thank you for reading. 🙂
And yes, absolutely — feel free to add as you please. 🙂
This is so breathtakingly sexy. I want to shave Michael even more now
Mollyx
Molly recently posted…Feeling Compersion
This is hot! I can’t shave my partner because it’s not what either of us like but this makes me want to.
Bee recently posted…Making a rainbow