A Close Shave Ch. 03

I thought I knew what sexual tension was.

See, I had hung out with girls I liked before. I had fumbled through asking them out, I had gotten a little bit jittery before that initial kiss, I'd felt that buzz of excitement seeing them take off their shirt for the first time.

So yeah, I thought. I know what sexual tension is. It's just nerves, that's all. Just nerves.

I was...

So.

Fucking.

Wrong.

No wonder Esme kept calling me her "sweet boy" - I didn't know anything about anything! Especially sexual tension! But you can bet I learned damn quick once I sat down on her couch earlier that fateful evening.

...so what is it, really?

Well, imagine your dick snorting a line of coke and then competing in an epic game of penile red-light-green-light. Imagine your vagina bolting a vibrator to herself that's so strong you can feel it in your molars...and then sitting through a three-hour church service.

That's sexual tension - where every single nerve is juiced up and ready to fire, where the semi in your pants is nothing compared to the massive hard-on in your brain, where you're basically little more than a drooling, gonad-driven moron, but your circumstances are demanding that you behave yourself.

I don't remember what we watched. I don't remember what we talked about. All I remember is sitting with my back ramrod-straight on her couch, sweating buckets, and feeling a whole lot of feelings every time Esme shifted, laughed, or took a sip of the weird, artisanal beer I had brought for us.

At some point - it could have been five minutes in, it could have been five hours in - she put a hand on my thigh and squeezed. I felt my balls clench, and I damn near shot my load right then and there. I squirmed, and let out what I thought was a grunt (but which Esme later told me sounded like the mewling of a sick little kitten).

"Aww," Esme said, turning towards me. "Something wrong, sweet boy?"

"N...no..." I choked out, and a split second later Esme's mouth was pressed up against mine.

As a kid, I hated watching movies with my sister. They were, as I called them, "girl movies", full of love and heartache and happily-ever-who-the-hell-cares-after. I would often rant - and ruin the movie - when the guy finally kissed the girl, because there were always fireworks, or fountains going off, or some other atmospheric perfection happening at the same exact moment.

But when Esme kissed me that first time, I finally understood why those movies are the way that they are. It was like lightning had made a direct and semi-permanent conduit to my mouth, the electricity coursing down through my tongue, bouncing through each and every nerve that was pre-primed by the unbelievable sexual energy that had invaded me the second that I saw her.

I don't know if I saw stars, but I sure as hell felt them - felt them being born, felt them going supernova, felt them colliding and ejecting whatever it is that stars eject into deep space.

You might think, with the amount of allusions I've made to it, that it was that kiss that made me baste my boxers. But no. That kiss - which Esme told me later lasted about ten seconds - was so overwhelming that even my fully activated cock couldn't process its own biological imperative.

Please take a second to fully appreciate the absurdity of it all. I was literally too aroused to cum. How the fuck does that even happen?

However. When Esme broke off the kiss, got up on her knees, and reached over me to turn off the lamp next to the couch, squishing those big, soft breasts of hers right into my face...

Yeah...

"What the hell are you doing?" Esme said. She hadn't quite been able to reach the off-switch of the lamp, but when she heard me "squeaking" and felt me "twitching" beneath her (her words), she backed off to make sure I wasn't having a seizure.

Which...I basically was.

The next bit she and I both agree on. I made a sound that was something like "Nnnnnnn...", I got up from the couch, almost fell over, and then crouch-ran over to the bathroom.

***

The bathroom. Where I now stood beneath the harsh light, completely naked, with Esme's hand tightly gripping my still-slick junk, having just told me that she thought my cock would be "cuter" if I shaved off all of the hair around it.

"Uhhh...ha ha," I said. "I don't think so."

"Well I do," Esme said. She let go of me, allowing me to get off of my tiptoes as she took a step back, grabbed a hand towel, and cleaned my cum off her palm.

"Look, Jordy," she said, "This might sound weird, but I only fuck with guys who are bare." She looked me in the eyes, shrugged, and dropped the towel on top of the pile of clothes at my feet.

"Why?" I asked, terrified at how desperate I was for her touch again.

"It makes you vulnerable," she said simply with a shrug. "I like that. So..." She put her arms behind her, leaning back against the side of the sink and sticking her chest out further than usual.

I coughed. "So..."

"So either I get you a pair of yoga pants and we go and finish the movie. No more fooling around tonight, and that includes making out. Or...you let me shave you, and we see what happens after that."

I'm not a religious man, but I swear the devil lived in those big, brown, bespectacled eyes of hers.

"You've...done that before?" I said. "I mean...you know what you're doing? Down there?" My dignity was making a weak-ass last stand under the flimsy veneer of "personal safety".

"I shave all of my boys," she said. "So yeah. I know what I'm doing."

I immediately felt a wave of jealousy wash over me. How many other guys had she done this for? How many other guys was she doing this to regularly?

Who the fuck cares? my cock practically screamed at me. Whatever it takes to get her to touch me again. Do. It.

"You have three seconds before I go get you some leggings," Esme said, holding three fingers up in the air. "Three..." she dropped her ring finger. "Two..." Another finger down.

I am a weak man, she was hot as fuck, and my penis was literally bouncing up and down as it begged her for more.

"Okay!" I said, feeling a hot blush creep up my neck for the billionth time that night. "Okay."

"Okay, what?" she said.

"Okay...you can shave me," I replied in a tiny voice.

"Nuh uh," she said, stepping over to me. Her hand grasped me once more, and once more I gasped and went up on my tiptoes.

'I want you to beg for it, sweet boy," she said in a sultry whisper.

Remember what I said before? About being too aroused to cum? Yeah, it was that all over again, times a thousand. Before, all I had to deal with were her looks and her energy. But now, I had to deal with her touch...and the fact that she had me wholly wrapped around her little finger, willing to do whatever she wanted, wanting whatever she wanted for me as if it was my own, homegrown desire.

Fuck.

"Will you shave me?" I squeaked.

"Louder."

I gulped. "Will you shave me?"

"Beg me. Nicely."

Holy shit, this girl fucking owns me. The thought drove me out of my mind. "Fuck, oh my God, please shave me, Esme, pretty please, please make me bare-"

"Ohh...my sweet, desperate boy," she said. Once more, she let go of me - but instead of grabbing another towel, she wiped my cooling cum off on my chest.

Esme nodded towards the shower.

"Go on," she said. "Let's get you cleaned up, first."

And so, both harder for and more frightened of a woman than I had ever been before, I stepped up and into the shower...