1. First Date After


    Date: 9/20/2015, Categories: Mature, Author: ClarkRoberts, Rating: 18, Source: LushStories

    “I can tape this back together no problem. And, don’t be too sorry. Because I really do like the way your boobs and your butt are displayed in the photo.” Our eyes met. The thrill of being the subject of Rory’s sexually desire sent a tingle of animalistic arousal straight to my pussy. It dampened. I playfully swatted his shoulder and scolded, “You naughty boy.” My mind returned to the present. I needed to stop thinking about Rory and finish my bath. Taking a loofah and a bar of soap, I scrubbed my body until it took on an exquisite rosy glow. When I was satisfied I was clean, I sat up on the edge of the tub. I soaped my legs, grabbed my razor, and shaved my legs. Rinsing the soap from my legs, I recalled Rory’s photograph. The high-cut leg of that particular swimsuit had required me to shave my pussy bald. It was the last time I had went full-blown Brazilian. Shaving my pussy had always made me feel sexy. Glancing at the jungle of hair between my legs, I realized just how much I had let myself go since my divorce. I needed to feel sexy again. I found a pair of grooming scissors in the vanity next to the bath tub. Clipping away at my unruly pubic hair, I quickly trimmed it down. Next, I lathered up my pussy and shaved the vestige of what remained. I splashed water between legs, rinsing away the soap and stubble. Draining the water from the tub, I found a towel and patted myself dry. After I was dry, I rubbed baby oil on my legs. I did the same to my pussy to prevent razor ...
    rash. Giggling, I recalled reading an article in Cosmo that reported that a bald beaver was more sensitive and made sex more pleasurable. It had been a long time since I had had sex, let alone pleasurable sex. Suddenly, it hit me. I wanted to have sex. Looking in the bathroom mirror, I saw a flush creep across my cheeks. I just didn’t want to have sex. I wanted to have sex with Rory. My mind rebelled against the shocking realization, he was seventeen years my junior and just a few years older than my own son. I was old enough to be his mother. I frowned at my reflection. I just couldn’t have sex with Rory. It wouldn’t be proper. Intellectually I struggled with taboo thoughts of Rory, while my body reacted with decadent desire. My pussy dampened with a lustful yearning as I remembered the way Rory had looked at me last night. There was something in his eyes that radiated a powerful confidence. I had never felt that kind of self-assured vibe from anyone else, including my ex-husband. I frowned and scolded my reflection, “You need to finish getting ready.” Closing my eyelids, I brushed on eye shadow. Then I dabbed a finger into a lighter eye shadow color and pressed it into the inner corner of my eye where the upper lid meets the bottom lid. This made my eyes pop. I took my mascara wand and combed my eye lashes. Puckering my lips, I colored them with a light shade of lipstick. I looked in the mirror and was amazed how applying a little mascara, eye shadow, and lipstick could make me ...
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