By Captain Eazy
4. Working Things Out
On the drive home, neither Sandra nor Brand said much. Both seemed abstracted, or rather distracted, as though each were listening to music the other could not hear. iPod people. Sandra felt . . . weird, as though she had been through some experience that she couldn’t quite recall. Not bad, exactly, she thought—in fact she felt much better now, felt almost as if her problems weren’t all that serious and might actually be resolved without pain, without sorrow. As they neared their house in the suburbs, she asked in a small voice, “Are you mad at me?”
“Hmm? No,” he said. “Counseling. Good idea, I guess.” To her his voice sounded absent, as though he had been thinking about something else.
In a soft, contrite tone, she said, “I’m so sorry for what I did. Is there any way I could make it up to you?”
“Shave your pussy,” he said at once, as if that was what he had been pondering.
She blinked, then giggled. She reached out to stroke his arm, cuddled, lay hr head on his shoulder. “All right,” she whispered. “That would be kinda . . . sexy. Yes, I’ll shave my pussy for you, darling. But I want you to do the shaving for me.”
“I love a shaved pussy.” Brand stopped the car in their driveway and frowned at her. “That’s weird. I’ve never even seen a shaved one. I’ve never thought of asking you anything like that before. What made me say that?”
“I don’t know. But if you’d like me to, you know, do it. . . . .”
His look of puzzlement became raffish interest. “Um, yeah. But I’ll shave it if you want. I think I’d like that.”
“That would be so sexy. Please shave my pussy for me.” She giggled again. “I never thought of doing that before, but now it seems so right. Nice and smooth and pink, just for you, lover. I think the doctor is really going to help us, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” Brand said. “I think maybe she is. I think maybe it will work out.”
They did not even bother with dinner, but went straight to their big bathroom—nearly as big, Brand had often said as his frat-house room had been in college. Sandra stripped completely naked and hopped up onto the counter as Brand ran hot water. He admired her pretty pussy, coy beneath its demure screen of brownish-blond pubic curls. He filled the basin with steaming water. Then he pumped hand soap into his palm, wet it, and began to lather Sandra’s patch. She sighed, stroking her breasts, pinching her own nipples. She whispered, “So warm, so foamy. That feels nice.”
Brand couldn’t even answer. His throat felt clogged, his face hot. He reached for the can of shaving cream, filled his palm with it, and rubbed it on, straightening to kiss Sandra deeply, their tongues meeting. They broke the kiss, and he tossed a towel on the floor, knelt on it, and lovingly began to shave her. He had put a new blade in the razor, and it glided over her tender skin smoothly, with a soft sound like a hard snowfall. She reached down and held her skin taut for him. He worked very, very carefully around her pussy lips, not wanting to nick that beautiful pink flesh. When he finished, he lovingly toweled the last of the lather away, caught and shaved a few straggling wisps, and then rinsed her and dried her. He rubbed almond-scented body lotion onto her. “You feel so soft and smooth,” he growled.
She reached down and glided her fingers over herself. “Oh, I do. I love this! I’ll keep it shaved this way just for you. It’s so nice! Makes me feel like a little girl.”
He picked her up bodily and carried her to bed. Brand tore off his own clothes, throwing them anywhere. He pulled her over to the edge of the bed, knelt, and began to kiss her smooth, sleek mound. Her clit, already peeking from beneath its tubular sheath, had never looked so inviting, so delicious. She tasted of the almond lotion, but he smelled her own desire, too, her feminine musk, and he saw the glisten of her own moisture.
He heard her moan. He wanted nothing more at that moment than to drive her crazy with lust, to make her so eager for him that she would forget everything, forget their quarrels. His jealousy. She had reached a hand down, her fingers spread on either side of her pussy, pressing, opening, offering. He knew what she wanted. He pointed his tongue, fluttered it, and began to give her clit swift quivering licks, rolling it, probing it. He felt it enlarge, throb beneath his tongue. He bore down, pressing, tormenting, nibbling, sucking. She was moving her hips, encouraging him, whimpering: “More. More.” He felt her hand on the back of his head, stroking his hair, pulling him closer.
He put his hands beneath her ass cheeks and rolled them up, giving him access to her wide-spread quivering slit. Stooping, he lushed his tongue up her pink pussy, plunging deep into her hot moist opening, wriggling, lapping. “Nnnnggg…god!” she groaned. “Oh, yeah! Eat me!”
He pressed with his thumb at the nethermost rim of her pussy, the muscular band closest to her asshole. She loved that unusual pressure, he knew, and she thrashed on the bed when he did it. With his other thumb he teased her puckered asshole, tapping it in an insidious rhythm. Sandra jerked in the first of what he thought would be a whole series of orgasms. “Nnn,” she moaned, “I—oh god!—so good! I want to—to fuck you—I want to ride your cock—right now!”
He lay supine on the bed and she swung into the saddle, facing away from him, the classic Reverse Cowgirl posture. She grabbed his stiff prick, lubed its head well by swiping it though the wet opening of her flowing pussy, and then settled down on it, purring as she engulfed him in her tight, wet depths. He started to fuck her, and she pleaded, “Please, no, don’t move, let me do the work! I can’t stand it—mmnnn—if you do that—mmm—to me!”
Brand forced himself to lie still. She bent forward, and he had to scoot up in bed, half- sitting with his back against the headboard so his cock wouldn’t be seriously bent or—he grinned at the thought—even broken off at the base. She leaned well forward, reaching to grasp his ankles, undulating slowly, giving him a sensuous, slow, deliberate fuck that made him want to come—but that kept him from coming too fast. He looked down and saw her inviting asshole. Chuckling, Brand reached for the slim plastic vibe and the lube they kept in the bedside stand, long unused. He clicked the vibe and heard it buzz. Batteries still good. He dribbled the lube into her crack, saw it gleam as it streamed down across her asshole to coat the top side of his dick, or as much of it as showed between Sandra’s slow pumping thrusts.
He touched the tip of the vibrator to her asshole. “Yes?” he asked softly.
“Ahhhh. Do it. Do. . . it.”
Carefully, slowly, he sank the tip of the vibe into her rear opening, feeling her quiver and hearing her murmur and whimper in pleasure. Deeper and deeper, she pushing back to accept it. He could feel it slipping into her, through the wall between pussy and rectum, could feel its buzz against his cock, muffled by her intervening flesh. “Yes,” she gasped, jerking and gasping. “Oh god oh god oh god, that’s so good!”
She spasmed with yet another orgasm. “Faster,” she moaned. “You can fuck my ass faster than that! Oh, yeahhhh!”
Now she was really fucking him like a cowgirl breaking a bronco, riding his cock and the vibe, her pussy pounding against his pubic bone. He couldn’t hold back any longer. “I’m gonna come,” he said urgently.
“Come in my mouth!”
She swung off him, spun, he losing hold on the vibe, she taking it with her, still tight-clenched in her ass. She grabbed his rod, sucked it, pumped it with her fist, and he yelled as he felt the hot spurt of a massive load shoot out. She sucked, spilling some of the stringy white cum from her mouth because there was so goddam much of it. He felt it trail on his upper thighs. He looked down, and she was cuddling his gleaming, deflating cock, nuzzling it, licking it, kissing it in adoration. She gave him a cum-gleaming, naughty smile. “That was good,” she said. She reached behind and removed the vibe. “Oh, god, that was so good. I want to do that again.”
“Give me a minute!” His cock was sore, actually sore, as if he had already fucked her hard—but they had just done it once—he had a vague sort of sense of someone giving him a hand-job. Sandra? But they hadn’t done that in . . . in months. Dream, maybe. But why was his cock so sore?
Sandra was creeping up his length, pink-tipped tits dangling, the stiff nipples brushing first against his thigh, then his belly, then his chest. “Next time I want the vibe in my pussy,” she whispered. “I want you in my ass.”
She kissed him. Brand had always been squeamish about tasting cum. But she had it all over her face and lips, and it didn’t make a damn bit of difference to him at the moment. He kissed her back, feeling on his tongue the mawkish, oddly spicy tang of his own cum. “I hurt you once when we did that,” he reminded her.
“You won’t hurt me,” she assured him. She was fingering his cock. “I’ll take care of everything. I’m gonna wash off the vibe and wash you off. Then I’m gonna take you in my ass. It will be so tight! Ooh, I loved that. Could you feel the vibe in my ass?”
“Could you? I’m gonna lie back on you and take you up my ass, deep as you can go, and I’m gonna pump my pussy with the vibe. You can reach around and play with my tits. Squeeze them. Pinch my nipples. I want to be dirty!”
They did that. They did other things. That whole weekend was like a honeymoon. At the end of it late Sunday evening, as they lay in each other’s arms, Sandra sighed. “I can’t wait until next Friday.”
Brand felt, frankly, exhausted. “Why? What happens Friday?”
“We have our next appointment with Dr. Marlowe, silly.”
Quick flash of that blonde nurse, bet she’d be spectacular naked—
“Oh.” He could not clear his head of the nurse’s eyes, blue as the gem-like hue of sea ice. He pictured her staring into his eyes as they fucked.
That was wrong. Never been unfaithful to Sandra. Never going to be. Despite what she did. Despite that nurse’s breasts and ass and sexy smile.
Sandra snuggled tight and warm against him. “What’s wrong? Don’t you want to go back?”
Brand frowned. “Well, yeah, I—I guess I do. It’s just that, you know, what we went to see her for doesn’t seem so important now.”
“I fucked those three guys,” giggled Sandra. “Does it make you hot to think of me fucking them?”
“No,” he said flatly.
She played with his cock. “Poor Brander. I think you still have issues. That’s why we need to go see the doctor again. She helped, didn’t she?”
“I guess she did,” Brand said reluctantly. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Dr. Marlowe was a big help.” He stretched. “I think she’s really going to put us back in control of our lives again.”