Stripping

Stripping

Stripping

Shena pouted and swung her crossed legs quickly under the bench, sulking. “Well,” she protested, “and what’s wrong with still being a virgin?”

Betty grinned, happy her barb had gone home.

“Because guys are scared off is why.”

“Well you were one too once,. besides I’m not one anyway. I broke it.” Shena’s rejoinder sounded weak, even to her, and Betty pounced. “Fingers don’t’ count silly,. and it’s you we are talking about and him.”

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“Well,” again the pout and the truculent protest, “I can lose it whenever I want.” “Yeah, yeah, but it’s who with that’s important, that’s what we’re talking about.” Shena nodded, deep in thought and more than a little excited. Her hands unconsciously drifted up to stroke her thick, dark hair.

“Yeah, I know, but it’s you he really fancies, not me.”

Shena seemed resentful and Betty grew consoling. Reaching up her hand to join Shena’s in the dark, shiny, brunette mass she replied, “I can fix you up with him anytime you agree to his idea. Come on Sheen, say yeah?” Shena shook her head, spilling her hair in a swirling fan about her face, and they grew silent together again. They were perched on the empty bleachers, high above the Fighting Rams field and it was already nearly 2 hours after school was out. Neither of them were in any hurry though, to return to their respective and empty homes. As they sat, Shena brooding and Betty plotting, the afternoon grew cooler. They wandered down the bleachers after a while, still chatting but not saying what they were really thinking. A tall, rangy lad approached them, his face -covered in that doleful eruption of puberty – split in a grin. “Sheen, Bet. Whatcha doing up there – waiting for John?”

“Naw dear, we were waiting just for you, you stud you.” He knew better than to rise to Betty’s cruelty, having like so many others in their class suffered it for years, and continued his own teasing.

“I hear Shena’s gonna go punk for him, or was that ape?” Shena did spit out a sarcastic reply as they swished passed him towards the exit, but Betty just patted her arm and told her to ‘Shhhh’.

Betty’s red and deep blue hair caught the afternoon sun as they stepped from under the bleacher’s shade, the stiffened and erected mohawk contrasting with her smoothly shaved bald sides. Her darkly rimmed eyes glittered, and the studs in her nose and ears also reflected the strong light. Both girls wore black, rather tight, pants with red suspenders hooked over their white, open collared, shirts. Their heavy, masculine work-boots clomped loudly on the bleacher’s wooden sidewalk as they crossed towards the main gate, still slow and reluctant to return to their homes,. as were many other latch-key kids of Rock Lake High. In the center of such a group John stood, head and shoulders above the rest, his clipper-shaven head sprinkled with a 5 o’clock shadow of dark, coarse stubble. He saw the two girls and broke out of the crowd and crossed to meet them. “Shit Betty where ya been?” he growled, hooking his thumbs under the suspenders whose pattern both girls had copied when they had purchased their own. “Talking to Shena about ya’ John, up in the bleachers.” John regarded Shena silently, his light blue eyes locking on her deep brown stare.

“Nice things right?” he sneered. Betty cooed at him and he grinned broadly. “Gonna get that hair cut then, Shena – go proper punk?” he queried the small form, so slender in her big boots. “Might do,” Shena muttered, then grew bold and met his gaze. “What’s it to ya?” “Come on, you know I fancy yer, I wanna do it for you.” He paused, then added, “When ya ready for it of course.” To make clear the meaning of ‘it’, he thrust out his pelvis and ground his hips. Betty burst into giggles and Shena blushed, but grinned as he turned away to rejoin the others. Giggling, their heads close together, the two girls crossed over the street and began to walk down towards the apartments where they lived.

“See Shena! I told ya he fancied you.” Betty was doubly smug. She had been proven right and, noting her friends softening and flush, knew she was winning her power play. Betty followed Shena into the apartment and went, unbidden, into her bedroom as Shena peeled off right to go to the bathroom. Shena left the door open so she could call out to Betty, already slumped on Shena’s rumpled bed. The tinkling of Shena’s pee decorated her words. “He really does fancy me don’t he Bet?” Despite the apparent undesirability of such a ‘catch’ Shena’s young voice expressed her wonder. “Told ya he did. He’d be up you like a fuckin’ rat up a pipe if you gave him a chance.” Both girls giggled at the profanity, and Shena came into the bedroom with her braces hanging down behind her, unbuttoning her shirt. She kicked off the heavy boots, using first one foot then the other to peel them off her damp feet, then shrugged out of the shirt. She stood in front of the mirror on her chest of drawers and cocked her head to one side, regarding her firm breasts with their browny-pink buds. Betty stood up and behind her as Shena looked up in the mirror, doubtful again. Betty placed her hands at Shena’s ears and gathered her dark mass of hair tightly behind her neck, bundled at the nape, smooth and tight to her head. Shena grinned and muttered a protest as Betty, imitating John, bumped into her and ground her hips into Shena’s taut buns. “I bet you’d love it, imagine him stuffed up inside ya as the hair all comes off, bet you would, come off too!” Betty was vastly amused at her own quip, but Shena grew serious and dropped her eyes shyly. “Dunno Bet, I think it’s a bit weird, kinky.”

Betty shrugged, her experience with men, even though only half as broad as she claimed, led her to believe that what girls thought of their role in sex was incidental. In fact, despite her bravado, Betty actually did not particularly care about sex and derived only one thing from the experience. Power. It was this feeling, of controlling, that led her to set up Shena’s virginity as a target for her attention, and for John’s. “‘Course it is love, they are all kinky, but it makes their cocks hard and that’s what counts.”

Shena giggled and, Betty noted, did not blush this time. Betty still held her friend’s hair clumped at her nape, and again imitating the grinding of John, she butted her hips into Shena and pushed her closer to the mirror until she half leant over the top of the dresser. Pulling back on Shena’s hair she lifted the brunette’s eyes to meet her own in the mirror, then slid her cool fingers under Shena’s right breast as began to play with the small, already erecting, pert nipple.

“I’d help.” Betty was panting a little as she bumped her hips into Shena. “I’d be there playing with ya as he fucked ya, I’d help cut it off.” This reassurance did not seem to console Shena very much and she pouted and twisted away to flop onto the bed. “Christ Bet, think what me dad would do to me if I turned up here with a punk haircut, he’d kill me, ya know he would.” Shena’s definition of being killed matched Betty’s own, they were both used to a rough-house beating from drunken fathers at a weekend. Betty shrugged. “He does now, dunee? Every weekend? So what’s new?” Shena’s small features grew serious again as she ruminated on this logic, but she could not refute it so eventually her small, bright teeth flashed again in her tan and she giggled acceptance of the point. Betty pounced, assuming this was full acceptance of her argument, which then commenced again, with Shena doubtful, timid of her first sexual experience, but unable to leave the idea of losing her virginity and ‘possessing’ and ‘taking’ – Betty’s words – the leader of their senior class gang. They worried together at the idea like probing a loose tooth, pushing to pain, retreating, the evening grew dark.

As it was Saturday they knew Shena’s dad would not come home until the early morning, if then, but still they pressured John to come up with a place for their tryst, just in case.

“Yeah, no problem, me mate’s got some rooms in that place behind Pic ‘n’ Save, no one there at the weekends, be there at seven then?”

Even so ‘cool a dude’ as John could not hide his excitement, and his voice trembled over the ‘phone. Shena looked warily at Betty.

“It will be all right won’t it Bet?” “Yeah love, you’ll love it, honest, both!” Betty giggled airily.

“I don’t mean the haircut, that’s kinky but I must admit,” she flushed and giggled, “I’m getting to like the idea of that. It’s just that, the way he wants to…” Shena ran out of words to express her concerns, and Betty furrowed her brow with concentration as she sought to understand. “Do ya mean he just wants to fuck ya, no love or nuthin’?” Betty was clearly incredulous at this naive concept, so Shena shied away quickly.

“No, no, I mean it’s the way he wants to, to fuck me.” Shena finally got it out and found her self growing warm through her stomach to her loins at both the expression and the anticipation.

“Yeah! Cool, you on his lap as we clipper off all yer hair! Cool!” Betty was vastly enthusiastic again, and Shena grinned at her friend’s pleasured face,, Betty’s eyes were bright. “Not quite the way I thought I’d lose me virginity Bet, I’m still a bit scared.” “Babe,” she said, with worldly authority from her reputation, “there is nothing like a good fucking hot cock, you’ll kick yerself when you find out what yer been missing.” Shena chuckled and threw her arms around her friend. “Let’s get ready then, what shall I wear Bet, my gear?” Bet looked at her own jeans and boots and shook her head. “Naw Sheen, you gotta be special for this one, like a bride – wear yer prom dress.”

“My white mini-sheath ! It’ll get dirty.”

“Well you won’t be wearing it again for a long time will ya? Silly bitch.” Shena considered the implications of that remark, recognized that a fully indoctrinated punk would never been seen dead in such an outfit and nodded. “With high heels too – lotsa make-up?” Betty nodded and they scrambled across to the chest and sorted out the sheath dress, in a mock satin, and white panties. “No bra Sheen – no hose neither, but ya can put in that white ribbon ya wore to the dance, ‘cos he likes that sort of thing.” Shena complained that the sheath was rumpled and they spat on the worst creases and rubbed them flatter with a tissue. The heels on the white sling-backs were grubby too, but Betty assured her friend that no one would notice. Shena made up heavy around her eyes and choose a full red lipstick, almost a brown, that set off her dark skin-tone. She slithered the tight sheath up, cupping her taut breasts in the pre-wired form and stepped into her shoes. She twirled in front of Betty and was rewarded with a compliment, of sorts. “Yeah ! Real tarty!”

Shena began to brush her hair, swinging just above her shoulders, her thick, blunt cut bangs were resting on her eyebrows. Betty twirled the white satin ribbon in her fingers absently as she watched her friend getting ready.

“You’ll love it Shena,” she said, sensing the renewed doubt that clouded Shena’s small features. “You’ll look real cool darlin’.”

“D’ ya think he will like me like this?” Shena was truly doubtful, already conditioned by both Betty and the ‘gang’ that punk-gear was better, sexier and more cool. Betty stood and tied the ribbon under Shena’s dark mass of hair, placing the bow directly in the center of her head. “Yeah, he’ll love it – he still goes for the little girl look, but that sheath hugs yer ass so tight you ain’t no little girl!” They giggled as Shena checked out her profile in the mirror, the white mini was almost spray-painted across her buttocks, and the smooth firm thighs of youth shone from under the hem. “Come on me little virgin, come and get yer first hot cock.” They left, Shena’s misgivings and timid doubts evaporating in excited anticipation. The room was not impressive, empty of all but a sofa, a Formica topped table and chairs of steel tubing and plastic, and a fridge. Their ‘host’, John, stood in his savage finery of boots, tight jeans, chains and studs, preening in his bare-chested macho-nakedness. He popped the first of the illicit beers and passed them out, all the while grinning at Shena, who was still unable to return his looks and who busied herself with the strip of paper kitchen towel that she had wrapped around her dripping beer. Betty made all the small talk, chirping away her quips and massaging John’s ego, and teasing his need whenever she caught his hungry staring at Shena. Shena looked up from time to time and matched his gaze, growing bolder. The beer was very cold but bubbled at her throat as she stifled a burp. John began to recount his adventures of the previous evening when a group of the guys went downtown and got a ‘little riot’ going at a local night spot. Two more beers each had popped by the end of his tale and shrewdly he – and Betty, his coconspirator – guessed now was the time to move in on the already giddy and giggling Shena. He leant across the table, caught her hair in a clump in back, just as Betty had done and ground his lips to hers in a deep, moist, kiss. To his satisfaction his kiss was returned hungrily, Shena’s teeth bumping his and her soft mouth opened immediately to his thrusting tongue. He moved his arms around the small shoulders and crushed her to his bare chest and she physically melted into him. When he drew back – without releasing her – Shena’s eyes were glazed and she panted softly. “Like that love?” he growled and, for reply, Shena pulled him back and thrust up her face towards his. They were both swimming into each other now, and John was confident that she was his now, for the taking.

“Hey you two! What am I supposed to do while you eat each other!” Betty whined. John broke off from his tonguing penetration of Shena long enough to growl that she should get things ready.

“Right! Looks like you are already!”

John half turned towards her and, with a huge grin, Betty crossed to his chair and wriggled her herself onto his lap. His erection, even through the jeans, was apparent and she ground down into it, feeling it warm and stiff in her own jeans-covered loin.

“Hey!” Shena protested, and John silenced her by mashing his wet mouth on hers and they drew back into their embrace, pushing Betty off the lap and out of the embrace.

Betty was taking her task of preparation seriously however, and she knelt on the bare floor besides the chairs and leant up to John’s groin. Slowly she unzipped his jeans, ignoring Shena’s muffled complaint and her fluttering, protesting hand, she reached in and released John’s erect penis, drawing it out and up into his lap. Betty reached up and took hold of Shena’s hand and drew it down to the heated member. Shena broke away from the kiss and looked down at John’s cock, now nestling and throbbing in her cool hand. She gasped. John preened and Betty chuckled.

“Yes, before ya ask Sheen,” grinned Betty, still on her knees. “It will all fit inside yer.” “You want it now don’t ya?” asked John, ignoring Betty and staring into Shena’s still doubtful eyes. Shena stroked his prick upwards with her still cool fingers, wondering at its length and the glow of heat it emitted. She dropped her eyes from his and blushed. “Well, do ya or not?” John’s ego was as insistent as his question, prideful of his self-image as a stud. Shena lifted her eyes – she had once again been staring in wonder at his size, half scared and half wanting. Wanting, she suddenly felt, to be filled up with him, to feel this velvet yet rock hard stiffness engulfing her, impaling her, and a strong heat coursed from her stomach through her loins and she felt a soft dewing in her vagina.

“Yes I want it,” she was able to whisper, incredulous that it was she who had aroused such passion in this fabled stud. “Betty – go get everything ready,” John commanded and Betty, with obvious relish, stood up and went into the other room. John returned to his kissing of the now softly submissive Shena and his hand began to explore the pert breasts under the satin sheath. Shena felt that she was swooning – she had fooled around with guys before, of course, but she knew that this time there was no turning back, no firmly pushing away, no excuses, she was committed. As if in confirmation of this fate, or perhaps in the height of his own arousal, John began to mutter in her ear as he peeled down the top of the sheath. Shena felt the air cooling her bared breasts, and was suddenly and deeply excited by his words. “I’m gonna fuck you, fuck you stiff, till ya cry for more, and clipper ya hair off, shove it in ya so deep you’ll taste it!” Shena flushed again as she grew aware that the dew of her excitement was now heavy moistness and that the small buttons of her nipples were stiffening. Dropping her head slightly, she watched in wonder as the skin around them unraveled and grew smooth as they erected. Her arm was around John’s neck and suddenly, from a need so deep she had never guessed at its existence she wanted him, inside her, drenching her, fucking her, she gasped and pulled his rough mouth down to her breast, gazing down in a rapturous swoon at his clippered skull as he nibbled the nipple to a soreness that she welcomed. “Come on then you two, get in here then.” Betty, who had been watching from the doorway had grown confusingly aroused herself, so she broke the enraptured part apart violently with her blunt command. But John was past ready and he leapt up and reached out his hand for Shena’s. “Let’s get that hair punked Sheen, I wanna fuck you so bad gal.” Shena seemed to consider rejecting his invitation, but then the inner hunger washed over her again and she complied meekly and stood up.

Betty had dragged one of the chairs into the bathroom and set it in front of the mirror. The sink that should have been beneath it was missing, the torn wall and hammered over pipe indicating the probable violence of its removal. The room was lit by a bare bulb, hanging from the center of the ceiling from a take-off adapter and Shena felt a bubble of fear at the sight of the electric clipper that hung from the cord plugged into the adapter.

“How’d ya wanna do this John, you want to watch me cut it or what?” Shena held the pair of shears that John had brought along too, and was clicking them open and shut with high enjoyment. For the first time Shena felt a twinge of doubt at her friend’s intentions and motivation, Betty’s salacious leer told her that all was not as it seemed.

“Oh? You wanna crop her then Bet do ya?” John was bemused but grinning. “Yes, let me do it, initiate her like.” Betty was openly leering at the dark-haired girl now and Shena’s hand fluttered up to her hair.

“Betty! Don’t be horrid!” Shena protested, her doubt washing away her previous arousal. “Shaddup and sit down you silly tart!” growled Betty, reaching for Shena. John moved quickly and his slap reddened Betty’s face before she realized he had struck her. She wailed a protest then cut it off quickly as he stiffened to slap her again. “I’ll let ya do some Bet, but I decide things here remember.” Betty nodded and Shena felt herself poising to flee. John’s arm draped across her bare shoulder, under her hair his hand cupped her nape. “Shush Sheen, it’s O.K. love.” He turned her to face him and swallowed her soft lips in his mouth in a draining kiss, his fingers lightly stroking her still exposed breasts. Betty shuffled back to lean on the edge of the tub and waited as John did his work and induced the same light-headed swooning in Shena as she had felt before, as she grew first calm, then hungry for him again.

The strange warm feeling, like a hot ache, flooded again through her body, she was suddenly softened, meek and weepy, wanting something so badly she was urgent, her hand drifted to his crotch and found again the object of her terrified wonder. John groaned and stiffened as Shena’s soft fingers explored his erection, then hesitated at the stem, then slid lower. Shena’s eyes popped open as her hand cupped his sac. In his own swoon of pleasure John lifted his face from hers and, teeth bared in ecstatic grimace, bent his shorn head back in a blind stare at the ceiling. Shena’s amazement at discovering the sac was heavy in her palm deepened as she suddenly and finally understood all the references to balls, and discovered what power she held – literally and figuratively – in her hands. She rolled the hard round ball within its skin sac and John groaned and the whites of his eyes flashed as they rolled upwards. Experimentally, feeling the urge and need, Shena squeezed and a hiss of pain issued from the bared and clenched teeth. John swung his head back down to mash her lips fiercely and she dropped the sac to enclose his throbbing cock in her hand. Still deep within his embrace she felt him move her towards the chair and found herself compliant, submissive, willing, wanting only to please. “Shena, Sheeeen,” John whispered as he sat her down gently on the chair. He leant over and slid his hand up her dress and she found herself leaning back to help him, opening up to welcome him. He encountered the white panties and with a chuckle he grasped the top hem of them and pulled fiercely. Shena’s legs flew up, almost kicking the watching Betty, and her butt bumped on the chair as he tore off her panties, sending them down to around her knees. She struggled upright in the chair again, and kicked her feet out of the torn panties, and sat wide-eyed as he stepped back and began to lever off his boots.

“Go on then Bet – get cutting,” John grunted as he shook off his boot and Betty, grinning hugely, stepped up behind the still panting Shena. “Like mine then John?” Betty asked above the click of the flashing scissors. John grunted and Shena leant back in the chair trying to calm herself. She jumped as Betty gripped a tress of her hair over her right ear. Shena’s eyes never left John’s as Betty crunched the shears through that first lock, nor when Betty leant forward to deliberately sprinkle her own shorn hair over her bared breasts. John’s eyes glittered and he was open-mouthed as Betty picked up a swatch of the dark shining hair behind Shena’s ear, in back, and placing the blades close to the scalp sheared off the entire clump to stubbled skin. Now John, his eyes fierce, hissed and began to pull down his jeans and Shena held her breath as Betty moved to the other side. “I wanna see it Betty.” Shena gasped as yet another hank dropped to the floor. For answer Betty crunched the shears through a lock at Shena’s temple, the dark crisp hair leaping forward in its tumble into Shena’s view. Her hand flew to the patch of denuded scalp and Shena choked. John stood directly in front of her then, naked, and gripped her wrists as he grinned down at her. He pulled her slightly forward in the chair, dragging her closer and lower, until she was confronted with his stiff cock. Shena was truly a virgin so she still needed less subtle indications of what was expected of her, so John grasped her bangs with his left hand, hissed, and uplifted his prick to her lips. As Betty crunched off a further hank of her hair Shena’s eyes showed the dawning of understanding and John smiled down at her. She pursed her lips and set forth her tongue to nervously explore the hot member’s texture. Velvety, smooth, dry and warm, then a taste so strong she jerked in his grip but he was insistent and the purplish head was parting her lips as Betty tugged at a further clump of her hair. “Nuff Bet, leave it,” John grunted, his voice shrill. Shena felt him surge into her and she gagged and struggled anew. His grip in her hair tightened painfully as he withdrew, then thrust back into her soft, wet mouth. Shena took four strokes more before she reacted. Then one hand fluttered to once again cup his hot sac and the other scrabbled at her tufted, clipped scalp, and she sucked him deeper into her mouth as he strove to withdraw. John’s cry was of pleasure but was still a bellow that startled her, and she opened her mouth and his prick popped out into the cool air. “God Sheen,” he gasped. “You sure are a virgin.” He leant down and kissed her, sharing his own flavor and, taking both hands in his, he lifted her up from the seat. “Get a mirror,” John growled at Betty and she crossed to the medical cabinet and, with punkish aplomb, tore off the plastic door with its mirror. John guffawed and look down at the reddened and heavy breathing Shena. “Now you watch as I finish it.”

“Yes, yes.” The first words Shena had uttered to him in many minutes were compliant and he felt a surge of need, to take her, to hurt her.

He spun her around to the front, sat down himself on the chair, and propped her by her elbows above his lap. His cock glistened with the moistness of her mouth, and he shoved and shuffled on the seat until he felt the other lips he sought. He was panting himself now, but still in control. Shena was losing hers however and cast a beseeching look at Betty who just leered at her.

“Get ready Bet, OK let her see.” Betty stepped to the front of her friend and flourished the mirror. Shena saw the savaged head that was now hers and yelped in surprise and shock, then the final note turned into a wail, then a scream as John impaled her on his erect member. Shena sank onto his lap, engorging him in her loins and released her response to the flood of pain that rose her up off him. Then he pulled her back slower and she sank back, her hands locked at her sides as he lifted, sank, rose and dropped her slender form on his shaft. Shena’s wail turned soft, then deep, a keening as she rose and fell, a needing sound. John panted loudly at her neck then stilled and Shena felt a flush of panic.

“Don’t stop, no, please John, don’t.” John laughed and stiffened and Shena ached for deeper fulfillment, needing her entire womanhood to be filled. An arch, a groan, then an explosion of scalding hot liquid lust was shot into her, drenching her and washing the very walls of her inner self. Shena arched too, unknowing and unexpected she felt a sudden need for release and shrieked a long, high moan as her own orgasm was shaken out of her, soaking his lap.

“Wow!! Big one Sheen, bet ya get preggie now.” Shena was too far away, in wonder and sated release to pay heed at first, then as it dawned on her this prophesy could actually be fulfilled a bubble of panic gorged her throat, then settled, and she twisted, still impaled, to plant a deep kiss on John’s mouth. As she sank into the embrace – his arms wrapping her tightly – she accepted the astonishing fact that she wanted him still, she wanted him and his baby, she needed to be pregnant, to have him, to be fucked. With a burst of selfishness she felt the firmness melting between her legs. She pulled back and asked what was the matter, and the laughing John explained that it would be a while before he could ‘perform’ again. Shena grew bitter, needful and impatient and all these emotions were evident on her face as John watched, amused and fascinated.

“I want it again, now.” Shena insisted and Betty giggled behind her as the staff of her pleasuring finally wilted and withdrew from her warmth. With a sucking sound that creased her face with a grin, she wriggled on his lap.

“Take yer dress off Sheen.” John spoke softly, almost kindly and Betty nodded. She knew this power to tame, to control. Shena grew shy again as she wriggled the damp sheath to her feet and stood nude before him. Her firm youthful skin glowed and John gently stroked the flat belly level with his chest in a befuddled wonder.

“Get that sheet out the other room Betty, then fuck off will ya.”

Betty’s protest never left her lips, but erupted from her eyes as she stalked away. John lifted his arms and Shena, still in dazed compliance, sat down into his embrace and they kissed. He hung onto her as Betty tossed the sheet over their heads, still he kissed her, his tongue following the same course his cock had enjoyed as Betty slammed the door behind her. Then he released her and, chuckling together for the first time, they fought their way out of the sheet.

“Get up a min, will ya Shena,” John asked, still quite and caring in the afterglow of his little death. Shena stood, but kept her eyes locked on his limpid staff. John stood and picking up the mirrored door he wedged it behind the hammered closed pipe in the wall. “Here Sheen, sit on me lap and see if you can see yerself in it.” She sat obediently and gasped anew at her savagely cropped head, the great mass of still long hair on top sheeting the crudely clipped sides of barren tuftness.

“I can see ya too, that’s great.” John reached to the clipper that swung on its cord to one side and gathered up the slack. They came alive in his hand with a rasping buzz and Shena turned to plead, to beg, to protest. Then she felt a stirring on her thigh and she stopped, mouth still open and watched in joyful fascination as John’s penis grew stiff anew.

“Is he ready again now?” Shena asked and her innocent reply sent John into bellows of mirth. Between gasps of breath he assured her that yes, ‘he’ was fixed up again.

“Why Shena, you don’t want to be fucked again do you, my little virgin?” His answer was clear and closed his eyes and mouth as she draped herself across his lap and raised her breasts to his lips, her cool hand snuggling under them both to seek his rising prick. John turned off the shearing machine and when he came up for air he was fully erect again.

“Wait, Sheen wait a mo, stand up, here,” He draped the sheet around her shoulders, crossing it tightly at the back, then bunching the looseness he gripped the sheet and turned to face the mirror. “This time I’ll let you lower yerself onto him.” Shena was uncertain at first, but as she bent her knees she was bumped gently by the still slippery staff and her femininity took control with a hungry parting and a thrusting need to be filled again by his maleness. They both gave loud groans as she sank into his lap, but he gripped the bunched sheet and held her there as he thrust up into her. Shena tried to rise – in order to enjoy again the fall – but he held her firmly, then switched on the clippers.

“Oh John, John,” Shena wailed as he ran them, chattering and shearing, back over the top of her head. Shena screamed at the reflection that showed a girl with a totally bald patch etched through her dark hair, the scream dropped to a wail of genuine distress that invigorated her partner and he surged up into her, lifting the sheet-bundled form and plunging her down, bouncing and penetrating.

“Want it like mine Sheen, like me.” Shena’s wail rose but she responded, bumping herself fiercely back onto the impaling cock, bouncing and gasping, shrieking sometimes as she caught sight of her butchered hair. John rose firmer and fuller, then stopped and held the still buzzing clipper at her temple.

“Do you want it? Shall I shave you as I fuck you?” His demand was softened by his own need for her compliance. Her reply was a submission to his thrusting penis, to answer her need for deep penetration, for filling. She wanted him, wanted to be him.

“Like yours, yes, like you,” Shena pleaded suddenly. As Shena’s reply turned into a wail of pleasured pain the clipper stripped the top of her head bald, sprinkling her shorn dark hair around her shoulders, luminous on the white sheet. Shena discovered as the shaft started its withdrawing stroke that she had control ‘in there’ and gripped it strongly, her muscles accurate in response to her need to retain him. John exploded another drenching into her before she was totally bald, but, gripping her waist tightly to keep himself firmly imbedded in her as she struggled and wailed to her own climax he stripped off her remaining hair with a final pass.

They sank back in the chair – Shena’s matching clippered head laying back on his chest – exhausted and sated, surrounded by the shorn tresses of dark, shining hair, they both slept.

 

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