Kinky Wazoo
by Argus Marks
Cory Sweeney is a young man with a family connection to an ancient secret practice known as the Taboo Act-- which leads him to an interesting new job, ceremonial performances, and revelations about his past, including a special reunion and an unlikely inheritance.
Her dark blonde
pubic hair had been trimmed into a neat triangle, with visible stubble along
both sides to mar the effect. He’d found pages on the web devoted to both the
unnaturally hairy and the clean-shaven, and he decided he liked the latter
since it offered an unobstructed view of the proceedings. It was also a
necessary first step in Kinkiwaza.
Reminding himself
that he was the paying customer, he ducked into the adjoining bathroom to
retrieve his electric razor from the medicine cabinet. Her eyes grew wide when
he switched it on, but she didn’t utter a word. Not that he was going to use
the three floating heads on such a sensitive area; that device had an attached
trimmer that he was planning to use to thin out that patch. He thought she
might object, thus demonstrating that she wasn’t quite as willing as she’d
claimed, but she continued to hold her tongue. And he was very careful, as he
guided the trimmer through that lushness and removed it in clumps, leaving a
uniform area of stubble in its place.
A quick trip back
to the bathroom yielded more required supplies. He used a wet washcloth to wipe
her mons, then he filled his palm with shaving cream and spread it over that same
delicate space. Instead of his regular safety razor, which might’ve been
slightly dulled after several uses, he’d taken a new one from the package and
he pressed its double blades to the tender flesh of her underbelly.
She remained calm.
Her expression denoted curiosity more than anything, as if she wanted to ask
why he had both kinds of razors, when most men preferred either one or the
other. The simple truth was that the electric one had been a gift from his
sister, which he used to trim his sideburns or when he was in a hurry, though
he liked the safety razor better. As he drew the sharp edge across her
sensitive skin, scraping away the stubble the trimmer left, she held her breath
and appeared to forget any such obvious questions. He was very careful once
again, since there was no fetish he knew of that involved the drawing of blood
with nicks and cuts. His approach was methodical, relying on a deft and gentle
touch and shaving with the grain, as that new blade made short work of turning
her precious sex into a smooth hairless delight.
As he used the
washcloth to wipe away the remains of the lather, her expression was one of
relief, he was pleased to see. He was able to enjoy the view, then. Once
revealed, her puss was a thing of beauty, of course, guaranteed to drive men
wild, from six to a hundred-and-six. Her large lips parted with ease, and the
box within was opened to show the pink delicacies it contained. The close-up
shots he’d found on the web, part of a more generic gynecological fetish, had
convinced him that no two sets of female genitalia were exactly identical, even
though they had the same basic parts. Each one seemed to have its own unique
arrangement, shape, and fleshtone; and hers was particularly appealing, if only
because he had the privilege of seeing it live in such close proximity.
As tempted as he
was to dine on that morsel, he decided there was plenty of time for that later.
He sat up and observed her face, to see how she was reacting to the opening act
of that marathon. Her expression wasn’t easy to read, but he detected no
obvious anger or offense.