Several pictures of her were tucked into the sides of the mirror over his dresser. Most were school pictures, and one was of the two of them together, their arms wrapped around each other, both of them smiling at the camera. My hand, holding the brush that I had picked up from amidst the clutter on his dresser, stopped in mid-air as I peered at those pictures.
I glanced from her to my own reflection in the mirror, unable to help the mental comparisons. She was blonde and blue-eyed, petite and quite pretty. I was pretty in an unusual way, pretty in the right light, the right clothes, the right make-up, but I knew that I didn’t possess that fresh, natural beauty anymore. That was gone—it had passed away somewhere between college frat parties and establishing my first 401K.
A heavy, sodden dullness settled somewhere in the pit of my stomach as I glanced from her picture to my naked reflection in the mirror, and then to Del, who was behind me, hauling up his jeans and cramming in the tails of his shirt.
“I’ve gotta shave,” he said, moving to look over my shoulder. The mirror revealed him rubbing his cheek. He had a shock of light blonde hair that always seemed in need of cutting or combing, eyes like clear blue glass, and he moved with a slim, languid, muscled grace that still made me turn to watch him as he walked away.
He had a durably boyish face, but he was only eighteen. His features would change somewhat by the time he was my age—but I knew his eyes wouldn’t change. His eyes were the thing that attracted me the most; there was some sort of reserve there that I still couldn’t place.
“What do you think?” he asked me, pushing his bottom lip forward in thought and studying his face in the mirror. “Should I grow a beard?”
“If you want,” I replied, finding my voice. I hadn’t thought I could speak through whatever seemed congealed in my throat.
“I could leave the stubble,” he said, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind and rubbing his cheek against my neck. I shrank away a little from the feeling, smiling indulgently. I loved the feel of his clothed body against my bare skin.
“Yuk.” I wrinkled my nose, turning in his arms, away from the mirror and the pictures of his girlfriend.
“Okay,” he agreed with a little smile. “Want to come watch me shave?”
“Do we have time?” I asked, putting my arms around his neck and beginning to brush the back of his hair.
“My mom won’t be home ’til after three,” he said, glancing at the clock over the bed that we’d just vacated.
“Okay,” I said, pulling out of his arms and putting the brush back down on his dresser. I reached for my t-shirt. “Let me put something on.”
“Nuh-uh,” he said, grabbing my hand and pulling me in to him. He kissed my shoulder, my neck, nibbling on my earlobe. “Stay like this.”
I raised my eyebrows at him, but just smiled when he took my hand and I followed his lead out of his room and down the long hallway to the bathroom. I loved his bathroom, and the bathtub most of all. It was a marble sunken thing that I’d been dying to soak in since I’d seen it three months ago, when Del and I had first started coming to his house on Saturdays when no one was home. I still hadn’t had the chance and I didn’t know if I would. Maybe there would be time this summer, if his parents went out of town for some reason before I went back to teaching in Japan in the fall.
I slid up on the counter and watched him take out his razor, the shaving cream, and a towel. I loved to watch him shave, to see him leaning over the sink to look into the wall-to-wall mirror, long-legged and slender, razor poised in mid-air. It was such a masculine thing, shaving, there was something about sharing it that made me more of a part of his world somehow.
I watched him lather his face and thought of the picture in his bedroom of him and Tracy. I remembered her arm around him in such a casual air of ownership. It bothered me. What bothered me more was the absence of my own picture in that mirror.
I think this was the first time I realized what they meant. They held the sweet promise of a future, something he and I didn’t have. It was a foregone conclusion that the relationship would be over when I went back to Japan and he started college in the fall.
So, what did I expect? I knew when we had started seeing each other that I was going to be the “other woman.” I knew it all along. He didn’t lie to me. There was no future for us, there was only right now.
I realized that he was looking at me, half-shaved, razor poised, giving my face a long and interested search.
“Should I ask?” He raised one eyebrow in my direction. I loved that.
“What you’re so lost in thought about.” He put the razor back to his face and looked back in the mirror. “You’re usually chatting a mile a minute when you watch me shave.”
I just shrugged, planting an elbow on my knee and resting my chin on my cupped hand, my eyes following the razor’s path, my mind wandering. I hadn’t planned on getting involved. I was home to take care of some things with my parents’ estate, just for a few months. I hadn’t planned on meeting someone, let alone some high school kid fifteen years my junior.
But Del wasn’t like most eighteen year olds, and I had found myself drawn to him, trusting him in ways I knew I shouldn’t. Things had happened as naturally as breathing. He had seeped into my life, filling the cracks, dulling the cutting edge of my loneliness back here where things were so familiar but I didn’t know anyone anymore. I hadn’t planned any of it, but how could you plan to fill a void that you didn’t even know existed?
“Are you going to see her tomorrow?” I asked, slanting him the question.
He hesitated and I wondered if he was going to play dumb. He didn’t, but, as usual, he didn’t give me a straight answer either. “You have a beautiful cunt, you know that?” he asked. His eyes fell to the triangle between my legs.
“Thank you.” I smiled, knowing he was trying to distract me, and I let him. I put my feet up on the counter, opening my thighs, giving him a better view. “So are you going to see her?”
“Samantha.” He said my name with a sigh. I didn’t reply but just watched him instead.
“I might,” he said, raking the razor over the few spots he had missed. I waited. “Probably.”
More silence as he wiped his face clean with a towel. “Ok, yeah, I guess.”
He put some shaving cream on the tip of his finger and touched my nose with it.
I rolled my eyes. “Jerk!” I wiped it off with my hand and dabbed it onto the tuft of my pubic hair with a grin.
His eyes lit up and he reached over and opened the top drawer under where I was sitting, pulling out a pair of manicure scissors.
“I was kidding!” I replied, grabbing his towel and wiping the shaving cream off.
“I’m not,” he said, snapping the scissors open and closed, his eyes flashing, his grin devious.
“I thought you liked it!” I cried. In spite of my ever-advancing age, the start of crow’s feet around my eyes, I was very proud that I was a natural redhead. Men were amazed and fascinated that the hair between my legs just a shade darker than the strawberry-blonde hair on my head. Del had expressed that same sentiment many times.
“Mmm, I do,” he replied, kneeling on the floor so he was eye-level between my legs. He leaned in and kissed all around my pubic hair. “But I’d love to lick your pussy when it was shaved.”
I touched the curly, wiry mass of hair. “I wonder what it would feel like…” I had never thought to trim or shave there. I was afraid of losing something, some part of myself. It was silly, but there it was.
“Want to find out?” He showed me the scissors again. Seeing him eyeing my bits with a sharp implement in his hands was quite a shock.
“I don’t know,” I replied, biting my lip and stalling. “Do we have time?”
“Plenty.” His lips brushed my thigh as he breathed in my scent. The sight of his unruly blonde head between my legs elicited an immediate response and I felt myself opening to him. “Don’t you trust me?”
I sighed. That was the question, wasn’t it? “Should I?”
“Yes,” he replied, his fingers probing my slit, spreading it open. He kissed my clit, his lips soft against my flesh.
“Ok,” I breathed, leaning back against the mirror as his tongue moved through my wetness.
“I want to kiss her goodbye.” he murmured, easing his way through, making his tongue into a sharp little point to probe inside of me. I moaned when his fingers replaced his tongue, sliding deep into my flesh as his mouth moved over my clit. I was still surprised at how skilled he was at this, how attentive, how eager to please.
I moaned as he gently sucked and nibbled my clit, his fingers beginning to move in a slow, steady rhythm. I cupped my breasts in my hands, tweaking my nipples as I watched him lick me, his eyes on mine, watching my response. I lifted my breast, reaching my tongue out for my nipple, a fat, pink bud. He watched me lick at it, making it wet with my saliva, and he groaned, the vibration sending a quick jolt through my pussy.
I closed my eyes, my head going back, shifting my hips forward toward his mouth, letting the sensation build, like the spark of a flame starting a wildfire between my legs. I loved the wet noises he made as he urged me on with his tongue, the squelch of his fingers pistoning in and out of me. I grabbed his hair, calling his name, rocking my hips with him now.
He murmured something but I couldn’t hear the words as I pressed him harder against me, using his mouth now, moving my hips in easy circles. I was close, my thighs trembling with the effort. Del pulled his head back, shaking off my hand, his face glistening with my juices. I looked down at him, surprised, bewildered, as he grinned at me.
He lifted the scissors again, and I gasped, my pussy swollen and throbbing and aching for release.
“Now?” I panted, reaching for him, longing to press his face between my legs again.
“Yes,” he replied, starting to trim the hair between my legs. “I want to taste you when you’re all smooth.”
I groaned, watching him pull the hair taut with his fingers and snip it, bit by bit, working his way up one side of my labia and down the other. The pulse between my legs was an incessant reminder, and feeling him pushing and pulling at my lips, watching his tongue sneak out of his mouth as he concentrated, was making it worse. I rubbed my fingers over my nipples, feeling it immediately in my clit, and shivered.
“Hurry,” I whispered, looking at him through half-closed eyes and he smiled, watching me pull and twist my nipples, his eyes darkening with lust.
“God, you make me so hard,” he said, reaching down to adjust himself in his jeans.
I looked down at what he’d done so far. There were light red pubic hairs all over the counter, and my mound looked like it had undergone a military buzz cut. “What if your mom finds red pubic hair in the bathroom?” I asked, brushing some off my thighs.
“I’ll clean it all up,” he replied, changing the blade on the razor and running it under water. He put some shaving cream on his hands and started lathering me up between my legs. I wondered for a moment if it would sting or burn and was relieved to find that it didn’t.
My lips still felt so swollen, my clit throbbing. He was being much more careful with me than I’d ever seen him be with himself. He shaved downward at first, rinsing the razor under warm running water after each pass, and then he shaved upward, clearing every last hair away with the sharp, double-edged blade.
The air on the wet skin of my vulva was cool, and I shivered. It was a strange sensation. He rinsed the razor again, and then got the towel wet, wringing it out before beginning to wipe me down with it. I whimpered as he rubbed it over my pussy, again and again, making a few passes over my thighs and down my ass. Then he used the towel to wipe down the counter and the floor beneath my feet before tossing it into the sink.
Then he stood back, his arms crossed, admiring his handiwork. I could see the bulge in his jeans, and knew he was as excited as I was.
“How does it feel?” he asked me with a smile.
“Cold,” I replied with a little laugh, reaching down to touch myself. So smooth! The air had dried my skin and it was as soft as rose petals under my fingers. I stared at him, amazed. “Can I see?”
“Turn around,” he said, coming to stand in front of me, helping me swing my legs around on the counter, leaning back against him for support as I did.
My eyes were drawn between my legs and I gasped. Completely shorn, my pussy looked so tiny, almost like a little girl, no more hair spreading upward in a triangular thatch to give the illusion of larger proportions. My lips were pink and swollen, parted enough to show my clit peeking out at the top. I touched it and moaned softly, the sensation intense.
“She’s beautiful,” Del said, holding me against him, cupping my breasts and then moving one hand down my belly, seeking the wetness between my thighs. “You’re beautiful.”
His hand stroked my hairless and exposed labia and we both watched in the mirror as he parted my lips and slid a finger into me. He lifted it to his mouth, tasting me, and I moaned.
“Let me kiss her,” he said, holding my shoulders and turning me toward him. I wrapped my legs around his waist, my tongue seeking his and finding it, tasting me in his mouth. He pressed his crotch against me, his cock hard and straining at the fabric. The roughness of the denim over my exposed skin was a powerful sensation, incredibly arousing in a way I had never experienced before. I rubbed myself there against him, sucking his tongue into my mouth.
He groaned, breaking the kiss and adjusting himself again as he knelt between my thighs. His breath over my now-bare skin was a panting heat, and I wiggled and moved my hips closer to his mouth. He feathered kisses over my lips, moaning at the smoothness of it, and I marveled at it, too. My wetness had nowhere to go, nothing to contain it, and I could feel my juices beginning to flow, a steady trickle between my legs.
“Oh, god!” I cried, feeling him spreading my wetness over the sensitive, unprotected skin of my lips, his tongue lapping it off. He nuzzled my clit with his nose, delving into my pussy with his tongue to find more of my juices, drawing me out. He made his tongue flat, moving it over my whole pussy in long, easy strokes, bottom to top, stopping just short of my clit every time.
I grabbed his hair, moaning, “Lick it! Please!” directing him there with my hands, my hips, and sighing as his tongue swept over my clit, still flat and soft and open, teasing me with slow, gentle strokes. I watched him, my bald lips disappearing when he opened his mouth to suck on them. It may have appeared smaller and more dainty, but my pussy felt three times more swollen and sensitive in this unveiled state. I moaned and rolled my hips, spreading my legs wider and pressing up against his mouth.
He slipped two fingers into me, pumping them through the dripping, soppy mess that I was making all over him and the counter, but it felt so good that I didn’t even hesitate when I started fucking him back, thrusting my hips against his hand. He groaned an encouragement, his tongue moving fast and furious against my clit now, his fingers matching my fierceness.
“Close,” I whispered, but he knew it and didn’t stop, giving me more and more, until I bucked and twisted and shuddered, cumming in a flood all over his face. I shivered, the cool air over the bare moisture between my legs giving me goosebumps, and let my body start to relax, my feet slipping off the counter and resting over Del’s shoulders as I gasped and panted, still feeling a quiver deep in my lower belly.
Del stood then, grabbing my ankles in one hand and putting them over his shoulder. His mouth and face were glossy and slick, his eyes burning as he unbuttoned his jeans to reveal his hard cock. I gasped and moaned when he shoved it up against my pussy, my legs still pressed together, straight up, my ankles crossed against his left shoulder. He rubbed the head of it all through the wet heat of my now-smooth skin, my slit squeezed together, tight, a moist resistance against the force of his hard cock slipping through, up and down, again and again.
“Fuck me,” I begged.
The wet, smooth entrance of my pussy now gave him no fuzzy obstruction as he slid the head of his cock down and pierced my soft, creamy flesh. He groaned, stopping when he was fully in me, the saddle of his hips rocking me just a little back toward the mirror. I moved to open my legs, but he held them tight against his shoulder, beginning to fuck me that way, my pussy a snug, smooth, shaven crease, all wet heat and tight friction. He cupped my breast with his other hand, pulling and twisting my nipple as he drove into me, his breathing harsh, moving into me with hard, long thrusts.
The sensation of my now hairless pussy being squeezed and pummeled at once, the delicious, damp grinding of his hips against mine, feeling him shove into me faster and harder as he worked his cock through my flesh, was almost too much. I had never been the kind of girl who had multiple orgasms, but the stimulation between my legs now was fast driving me toward the contrary.
“I love your shaved pussy,” he growled, moving his hips in small circles, working his cock against the pressure and tension of my legs squeezed together, my pussy lips closed firmly around him. I arched my back and moved my hips with his, straining to grind my clit toward ecstasy.
I closed my eyes, feeling him start to thrust deeper and make the low, grunting noise he always made just before he came. I strained against him, twisting in exquisite torture with my clit trapped between my swollen pussy lips, my compressed thighs, and then I felt a dam burst, a violent shudder racking my body as I came again.
Del groaned and pulled quickly out of me, opening my legs and aiming his cock directly at my clit, finishing himself off quickly with a few strokes of his hand. The heat of his cum over my pussy was a burning shock and I gasped, writhing as wave after wave seared the bare skin of my vulva.
“Incredible,” he murmured, his fingers spreading his seed over my lips. He smiled at me. “So, how do you like it?”
“I love it,” I replied, sitting up and putting my arms around him. “I can’t believe how sensitive my pussy is now.”
He groaned. “Don’t start tempting me again, my mom will be home in an hour!”
“Well, let’s get cleaned up before mommy comes home,” I said, sliding off the counter. I wiped up with a tissue and looked longingly at the marble bathtub before following him into the other bathroom where there was a shower stall.
I found myself back in his room, brushing my wet hair and contemplating the pictures of his girlfriend tucked into the mirror while Del pulled on his jeans.
“I want to meet her some day,” I told him, fingering the edges of one of the photos. He stared at me for a moment.
“That would be interesting,” he said, pondering it.
“Might be awkward, but maybe not,” I said. “After all, she doesn’t even know I exist. No one knows I exist.”
He came up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. “I know you exist.”
He kissed my neck and I got a wave of deja-vu. I looked at my body in the mirror, the triangle between my legs a conspicuous absence. It made me look and feel strangely younger, but also more exposed—vulnerable.
“You two are so different,” he said, running his hand over my hip.
“I had that feeling,” I replied. “Aside from the age difference, I mean.”
“Your pussy looks so sweet like this,” Del said, his eyes and fingers caressing me there.
I smiled, twisting out of his arms and grabbing my panties and jeans off the end of the bed. “So, tell me the truth, did you get involved with me just for the sex?”
“Of course not, Sam.” Del started tucking in his shirt. “You know how I feel about you.”
“She’s your girlfriend.” I glanced back at the mirror as I did up my bra. “I’m just your lover.”
“Just my lover?” he repeated, brushing his hair. “Isn’t that enough?”
“No,” I told him, reaching for my t-shirt and pulling it on. “I guess it’s not.”
“So you’re saying that you mind?” He dropped the brush on the dresser and looked at me.
“Yeah.” I shrugged, shifting my stance. It felt strange between my legs, as if I had been stripped of something vital, my jeans and panties now just constant friction.
“Yeah,” I repeated softly. “I mind.”
Del came to stand in front of me, putting his arms around me.
“Not enough to leave, though,” he said, his tone soft, knowing.
It was true and I resented that he knew it. I rested my forehead against his neck, feeling him long and lean against me.
“I love you, Sam,” he told me, and hugged me. I squeezed him back, wondering if he realized that I knew how much he manipulated me.
“I know,” I replied. “We’d better get out of here before your mommy returns to find her little boy in his bedroom with an older woman.”
Del laughed and pulled back. “Okay.”
I looked into his eyes for a moment, wondering if I knew him, or if I wanted to.
He took my hand and led me out of the bedroom.
And I let him.