Nail Polish Pt. 02

(If you haven't please read Nail Polish Part 1 for this to make more sense.)

Over the following week, the forest green nail polish began to chip and flake off. A combination of house work, DIY and my own general clumsiness reduced it to a sorry state, and the following Sunday I removed what was left. I was due to head back into the office for a few days that week, so thought I had better remove it anyway; not because I was embarrassed or ashamed, but more to avoid having the same awkward conversation over and over again.

The week rolled on and I got used to having boring fingernails again. I would often find myself sat on a conference call staring at my hands, trying to visualise different colours and patterns. I also found myself looking at the nails and make up of my co-workers; wondering what their choices said about them. Did they have a uniform colour? Was there a feature nail? Were their stencils or glitter?

On the Thursday of that week I found myself with an afternoon spent clear. My only obligation being answering an occasional email and generally looking busy. I took the opportunity to do some online make-up shopping on the company's time.

I started with the nail polishes, as that was where I had started. The range and choice was overwhelming. Glitter finishes, gel finishes, matte finishes and metallics in every conceivable colour and shade. After an agonising hour I finally settled on a navy blue, a vivid red, a metallic gold and, in a moment of whimsy, a neon pink.

Next I moved on to lipsticks. The selection this time was much less daunting. I had already decided to go with something relatively understated. I wasn't going for the drag queen look. I was going for the... what? What look was I going for, exactly? The thought had been percolating at the back of my brain all week, but now it bubbled up into my conscious psyche.

What was the end goal here? I wanted to be colourful, of course. And smooth; no longer coarse and rough like men are meant to be. But was that it? Was that the end goal? Was this going to be an occasional thing? Every weekend? Every day? Was the end goal to spend every day with a full face of make up? Did I do it at the weekends like a hobby, or something I am ashamed of? These questions nagged at me and I didn't really have an answer.

I looked around the office and my eyes settled on one of my colleagues. She was on the phone. Her fingers absentmindedly played with a coil of hair that had fallen out of her ponytail. Her lips were coloured a subtle pink, a shade not too dissimilar to the colour of her lips normally. Her eyelashes had been curled and she had used a little eyeliner to make the eyes pop a little. Finally, her eyelids were a copper colour, although she had used a smoky dark colour nearest the bridge of her nose. She looked great. I wanted to look that pretty. Maybe not all the time; the world is not friendly to men wearing overt makeup after all. But a lot of the time. I didn't want to be a pigeon all the time. Sometimes I want to be a peacock.

I added a darker lipstick to my cart, a muted shade somewhere between red and purple to my cart. I also chucked in some mascara, because why not? My eyelashes could stand to have a bit of volume. I then moved onto eyeshadow. I decided to keep it safe and ordered an eighteen colour palette which covered most of the spectrum. After a quick review of my choices, I checked out and waited for them to arrive and change my world.

Later that evening, once I had returned home, I decided to address the other thing I wanted to change. Body hair. I stood in the bathroom and looked at the naked figure staring back at me in the mirror. I had been lucky in that I wasn't overly blessed with body hair, and what was there wasn't too coarse. The main spot was a small clump the size of my hand on my chest and a moderately thin line of hair down to my groin. I was undecided what to do about my crotch. I usually just trimmed down there to keep things tidy, but the thought of being free of that thicket of hair was incredibly tempting. The temptation though was overshadowed immensely by my fear of going anywhere near my sack with a razer.

I decided to start at the top and work my way down. First I shaved my face as closely as possible. I went over it twice to make sure that I left no stragglers. It was possibly the closest shave I had ever had. If it weren't for the tell tale paleness of my chin and cheeks, you might never tell that I grew stubble at all.

Next I moved onto my chest and armpits. For this I had a first pass at the hair with an electric razor that had been lurking in a drawer for a while. It passed easily around the hair on my chest, taking most of it off in one go. I also used it to trim around my nipples. The hair hadn't gone entirely; a few millimetres of each hair had been left, just poking through the skin. Running a hand over my chest I could feel a slight abrasion. That had to go. I lathered up my chest again, and set to work shaving off whatever remained.

I had originally intended to stop just above my crotch but a blend of enthusiasm and curiosity got the better of me. I had seen plenty of porn videos with buff men absent of pubes and I had always wondered what it would feel like. I fired up the electric razor again, and set to work. I trimmed all the hair on my crotch and, after an internal debate about the risk of cuts, carried on to my balls. I went slow and steady. Pulling the skin as taught as I could and lathering up as much as possible. In the end I thought I had done a reasonable job. They weren't completely hairless, but pretty damn near. I made a mental note to explore hair removal creams if there was a next time.

Looking at my now bald torso in the bathroom mirror, I knew immediately that I loved it. I looked clean, for one and almost androgynous. Well, androgynous if you ignored my semi rigid cock. Speaking of which, it looked...larger? While I'm not the biggest guy in the world in the trouser department, the lack of foliage around it made it look bigger. Not just in length but also in girth. I was quietly impressed with myself.

My gaze fell to my limbs. Having a bald, smooth trunk seemed silly when you had hairy legs, and arms. With a sigh I fired up the razer one more time and set to work. Once I was done I took one last look at my handy work. For the first time I felt like I was happy with myself. From my eyebrows down I was smooth, soft, clean and hairless. I placed my hands over private parts and was satisfied with the result; if you couldn't see my bits, I was basically androgynous. A body that embraced both the masculine and feminine.

I finished up in the bathroom, dousing myself with moisturiser to keep the razor burn to a minimum, and went into the bedroom. Kirsty was laying on top of our bed in her pyjamas reading a book, and barely looked up as I came in.

"What do you think?" I asked while standing at the foot of the bed.

I held my arms out so that she could see the full extent of my efforts. Her eyes flicked up from her novel and settled on my bare chest. She lingered for a moment before her eyes travelled down to my bald crotch. I felt incredibly exposed; I hated it - the vulnerability and the sensation of being judged. And yet, I could feel the blood start to flow into my dick. I looked down and saw it give a twitch.

"Wow," Kirsty said eventually. Her tone was difficult to judge. "I didn't expect you to go quite that far with it. Now, of the two of us, I'm the one with more body hair".

She slipped a bookmark back into the paperback and tossed it to one side. She got up onto her knees and shuffled forward towards me. She placed her hand on my chest and gently stroked downwards, feeling my now hairless skin. Her fingers dragged down my chest, causing me to shudder. It was a new sensation and it sent a tingle down my spine.

"You did a thorough job. That is a close, close shave. I should get you to shave me." she said. "The question is though, what do you think about it? It's your body after all."

"I like it. I feel clean. And soft. And, I dunno; sexy maybe?" My voice rose at the end, not quite a statement and not quite a question.

Her hand reached my belly button and carried on down. Her fingertips stroked the sensitive skin down there. The edge of her finger lightly traces a line down my dick, from root to tip. An involuntary exhale escaped from me. A sign of titillation. Kirsty smirked. Her hand twisted and suddenly she had my balls in her cupped hand. She gave them a gentle squeeze causing me to grunt. The feel of her skin on mine, with no barrier or obstruction was thrilling. She released her hands, bent down and planted a pecked kiss on the tip of my penis.

With that she released me and shuffled back up the bed, scooping up her paperback again.

I spent the rest of the evening cleaning up the mess in the bathroom. I wore an old pair of gym shorts. The light fabric felt amazing on my skin. Every so often I would catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and smirk.

When I finally came to bed, Kirsty was under the covers, curled up on her side, asleep. I slipped off my shorts, and slipped in next to her. The sheets were cool against my skin; skin that was feeling the pressure of them for the first time since I was a child.

Kirsty rolled over to face me, and then shuffled closer. Her body pressed up against mine. Her hand placed itself on my chest and her leg entwined with one of mine. Her head rested on my shoulder.

"Are you awake?" I whispered. Her eyes sleepily opened and she responded with a soft 'mmm' sound.

I buried my face into her hair and breathed in the smell of her. Her shampoo was floral. I kissed her on the crown of her head. I lingered there for a moment, with my lips pressed to her skin. After a pause, Kirsty turned her head to face mine and our lips met.

We started to slowly kiss. Chaste things. But soon I could feel the blood rising in me. My kisses became harder, faster and hungrier and Kirsty responded in kind. Her hands began to roam over my chest and stomach, stroking the smooth skin. With the arm that was trapped beneath her, I pushed beneath her shorts and grabbed a handful of her butt cheek.

As we kissed I could feel myself getting hard. Without any hair down there it felt different. Better, even. It was more sensitive and I felt I could feel every millimetre of my skin. Kirsty's wandering hand had travelled much further south and was once again gripping me. As the feeling of my kisses increased in intensity.

Kirsty broke the connection of our lips, and manoeuvred herself into straddling me. My cock was pinned down between myself and the fabric of her shorts. Instinctively my hands rose to grab hold of her tits through the soft t-shirt, but Kirsty grabbed them mid flight and placed them on her hips. She reached down and peeled her t-shirt off.

With her breasts released, she tossed the top off the bed somewhere. Her nipples were stiff, and I couldn't work out whether that was due to the cold or to me. She leant forward and again our lips met. As she shifted her weight, the pressure of her body moved on my naked and smooth cock. My member must have been nestled up against her pussy as I heard her give a small, sharp exhale as she moved.

As we kissed, Kirsty ground against me. The skin of her chest rubbed against my own, now just as bare and tender. The pressure of her pelvis worked up and down my stiff cock. Her hands had pinned down my arms and I felt captive at the moment. Held prisoner and enduring a wonderful torture. I wanted her, and in a strange way I wanted myself. I wanted us to both experience my body, in all its smooth almost androgynous nature. I wanted to explore what every sensation felt like both as a giver and a receiver. At that moment my mind turned to the cosmetics that I had ordered and felt a tinge of frustration that they had not arrived.

The torture got too much and I decided to break free. My arms escaped Kirsty's grasp as my tongue wrestled with hers. I snaked one down the small of her back, and underneath the fabric of her shorts. It grabbed her buttock and I felt my fingers knead the soft flesh. My free hand I placed on the back of her head, letting her hair wind itself around my digits. She was now my prisoner.

With her now trapped, I rolled us both. She ended up on her back, and myself on top between her legs. I broke the kiss and looked into her eyes. Despite the gloom of our bedroom I could see the hungry look on her face and the quickness of breath.

I released Kirsty from my grasp and began to slowly kiss downwards from her neck. Her skin tasted vaguely of body moisturiser and sweat. I reached her breasts and decided to take my time. Kissing them all over and letting my tongue massage her nipples. Working one and then the other, feeling the stiff bud of them in my mouth. Kirsty gave a slight giggle of pleasure at the sensation.

I eventually released her, and began my trip down her torso. Next was her belly. her beautiful, soft belly. Like her neck, it tasted of salt and moisturiser. I didn't linger long there. As I kissed her belly, my thumbs hooked into the pyjama shorts she wore and began to tug them down. Kirsty obliged by lifting herself off the mattress so I could pull them off completely.

Finally I reached my intended target. I kissed further down, until I reached her pussy. She was already incredibly turned on, and my bald face was immediately coated with her wetness. My tongue brushed up against her clit and Kirsty let out a cry, part exclamation, part growl; a guttural primal noise.

I focussed my efforts on that point, licking her sex. As I dragged my tongue across it, Kirsty moaned and writhed below me. I felt a sense of personal satisfaction as her breathing got guttural and her legs started to twitch. As I licked her, my imagination roamed and I thought of what it would look like if I had my makeup. Lipstick smeared across my face and her cunt; mascara running and eyeliner smudged. I would be a beautiful ruin. Primal but manicured; colourful but a mess.

I was drawn back to reality by Kirsty. Her hands had clamped down on the back of my head and she was pulling my head tighter into her pussy. She started to buck and let out an almighty scream as she came. The sound of her climaxing sent a shudder through me and made my dick twitch. In the throes of ecstasy, she was beautiful.

I stopped licking her and sat back on the bed. Her scream faded into quiet whimpers as she came back to reality, I looked back at my hairless body. I was being unashamedly vain about my new form. My dick was iron hard, and the head was wet from pre-cum. My bald balls were tight against my equally hairless crotch. Shorn of hair, my dick looked enormous and powerful. I grasped my now massive dick and gently squeezed. A bit more pre leaked from me. It would have been an image made even better by having my colourful nails back.

"Enjoying yourself?" asked Kirsty. I looked at her and the need to fuck overtook me. Without saying a word I was back on top of her. I pinned down her arms and in response her legs wrapped around hips. She was completely open and with almost a roar, I plunged into her.

Her cunt was sopping and it was all I could not to cum inside her immediately. The warmth and the wetness made me almost grind my teeth with desire. I paused for a second, to try to calm down a little. I looked down at Kirsty below me. She met my gaze.

"You feel so good," I muttered, desperately trying to resist the urge to start thrusting into her.

"I didn't answer you earlier, when you asked me what I thought of the new you," she said, still a little breathless. Her hands ran up my smooth chest settling on my breasts. Hang on, I thought to myself, did I just think of them as...breasts?

"I like it," Kirsty said, distracting me from my thoughts. "I really like it. It's sexy and, i dunno, a bit slutty. I like you a bit more feminine."

That was it, any self restraint I had evaporated. I pulled back almost my full length before sliding it smoothly back into her. I groaned loudly, my gaze never breaking from Kirsty's. I wasnt concerned at that point about prolonging the fuck; I wanted release. I fucked her hard and fast. Normally in bed I was fairly mute but that seemed long gone by that point. I moaned and snarled. I told Kirsty how much i loved fucking her, how good her pussy felt, how I wanted to come all over her.

Like last time, when she had made me pleasure myself for her, she seemed to love this. Back then though, I was trying to perform for her. This time it was instinctual. The pressure inside of me, the need too fuck and cum inside her made me lose all inhibitions.

Soon her cries began to mirror my own, and it became a race as to who would orgasm first. I felt her cunt tighten around my dick and that was it. With a shout my cock pulsed and began to pump her full of my seed. The sudden sensation must have pushed her over the edge as well, as she grabbed my hair while her eyes rolled back.

We stayed like that for what seemed like forever but could only have been a couple of seconds at most. Kirsty's eyes fluttered as I pumped what felt like gallon after gallon of my cum inside her slopping wet cunt. I felt completely drained, as if I had nothing left to give her.

Finally I half collapsed down onto Kirsty, whose legs finally unclamped from my sides. We stayed like that for minutes. Not talking, just breathing and trying to recover from what he had shared.