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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