There's Nude, & Then There's Naked

When I resumed normal awareness, I saw my gorgeous naked wife spitting into the wastebasket.

I lifted a hand and stroked her back.

She glanced at me and said, "Thanks for lunch."

I grinned, but left a gap of silence. In reflex we both listened, and if there was anything coming from the monitors, it was sleep breathing.

We lay down together, face-to-face. Kissing and embracing and whispering, sometimes reaching down to tickle our exposed playgrounds.

One of her tickles got a big reaction from me. She gave me a crooked smile and said, "Yes I would. With something extra."

She got up and started towards her dresser, but stopped along the way to show off her pretty pussy. In cheesecake poses, then in way-beyond-cheesecake poses. After the first few, I grabbed my prick and started yanking, grinning at her. Verily, the mighty Sir Average would venture forth again.

Masturbating while hairless almost ventured me too soon.

Rachel got a pair of patterned black stockings and put them on. They have elastic at the tops, so they can stay put. She added black heels, then strolled to a mirror and took in the full effect. In her bedroom voice she said "What a tart I am." Couldn't tell if there was dismay, admiration, or both. She posed, then re-posed. "And you're a depraved degenerate for wanting me."

I stood, moved in, and picked her up. As I bride-carried her, I mumbled to her surprised visage, "If that's a role-play scenario, I can work with it."

I set her on the bed on her back, while I stood on the floor. She giggled as I lifted her stockinged legs and brought our hungry crotches into congress for the first time as baldies. Her slick inner warmth yielded to the entry, then clamped around my johnson, jolting my whole body.

From Rachel:

What a great finish this was. Well, it was the finish to getting our shaved selves acquainted. My stockinged legs slid along his nicely defined torso, shoe toes playing with his ears. His hairless prick in my hairless quim felt the same as usual. The real difference, and biggest thrills, were on the outside. His bare sac slapped into my bare perineum with each of his thrusts. The bare leathery hide over his pubic bone squeezed my bare mons on every impact, and rubbed against my swelling clit. These were real turn-ons, and I came large and soon, without either of us thinking about whether I needed fingering.

I also squirted from that, shuddering at the peak of sensation. Our purchase of a steam cleaner was a good investment. (He wrote that he'd do extra chores. There's one.)

While gasping, I somehow said, "I see you've found your crayon."

Then, laughing, my all-too-fertile sweetheart pulled out and straddled my torso. Penises could get lost forever in pornstar titfucks. My boobs can't close all the way around him, but I take pride in getting him to spew with only bazooms embracing his prick, my hands merely squeezing the titmeat. I was rewarded with glop all over my neck, the sight of Fred squinting while silencing himself with a fist, and improved chances that my birth control pills would succeed.

We brought the monitor speakers into the bathroom so we could listen while we took a very long, lascivious shower. We soapy-fondled ourselves to sweet sustained pleasure, while we tongue-wrestled, with no urgency to try for more cums.

Fred suggested sleeping nude, which we usually don't. I was tempted, but with regret I chose to be a wet blanket, worried that we might get sore. I pointed out that I'd had four orgasms (counting my preliminary solo), all new and different, and I was quite sated. I also played the parent card, saying we'd have to be pajama'd in case there was a kid emergency.

Fred nodded, I think agreeably. Sometimes we fuck at four a.m. to blow off steam. That definitely wasn't necessary this time.

We both used some lotion the next morning, but on the whole we felt great. We're not yet sure when we'll shave next, but we'll definitely keep doing this. Unless stubble makes us regret it.

After breakfast we all got into one of the two cars, thanks to detailed planning, days ago, that would have me car-pool home that night. First we dropped the kids off at school. They like having both of us along for the sendoff, and we can manage that now and then.

While I was driving to my office, I handed Fred my phone. "You can look now," I said, with a naughty smile.

He read the text. It took a while for him to get to the picture.

I timed it just right. When I pulled up at the main entrance, I looked over to see his eyes bugged out.

The pic shows nude female flesh, navel to thighs, with the pubic hair above the crotch shaved into a heart shape. The heart is outlined with red lipstick, which had also drawn a cupid's arrow entering from lower left and sticking out upper right. The top shaft and point of the arrow follow, and cover, a stretch mark. Below, widespread legs frame proud, hair-free labia and mons, glistening with moisture.

"I found my crayon," I explained.

I reclaimed the phone and dropped it into my purse. "I don't think we need that to remember Valentine's Day," I said, handing him the car key. "But if you're very nice I'll send you a copy anyway."

I gave his grinning face a quick cheek-smooch, and left the car.