and shaved and kissed from wrist to elbow, and then you are off my lap, standing hunched over my body as it reclines in the barber's chair. And the cream, the shaver and you lips are following the erstwhile trail of auburn hair down my six pack, around my navel and to the edge of my curly auburn bush.

You desist from that approach for now to spread my legs and cream, shave, and kiss my thighs and calves. Gobs of cream are applied to my toes, and you lick and suck each one, individually, clean. Slowly and sensuously. My belly is heaving at this, and I am stroking my cock. I tell you I want you now. No, I cry out my need for you. I want you to take me now, to fuck me.

But you are not finished revealing me, unmasking me everywhere. You brush the hand aside that I have been stroking myself with. You find some twine in the barber's drawer and bind my wrists together and hook the coil on a hook on the back of the barber's chair, just over the top rim. My arms pulled up and back, the muscles of my now-smooth arms and chest are fully flexed for you, on exhibit for your approval. And your eyes slit and burn with desire, showing that you do approve of your handiwork.

The hand I had wrapped around my cock is now replaced with your left hand, as you release mountains of cream across my loins with your right hand and slowly shave my pubic region to total nakedness, total openness to you. You kiss and lick the clean canvas you have created, well pleased with what you have done. My standing cock is buried in a mound of cream, and your mouth takes this luscious éclair in one long enveloping. You play with the hard center of this pastry with your tongue, teeth, and soft inner cheek walls and stroke up and down, up and down, up and down on me until my cream mixes with the minty shaving cream, while I am writhing and moaning and sighing at your attention.

You hold there, savoring your midnight snack, while my muscles relax and my breathing turns from ragged to a soft purr.

When all is calm once more, you rise, unhook the coiled twine imprisoning my wrists and tell me to turn as you raise the back of the barber's chair. You then tell me to straddle the back of the chair, my chest to the chair back, my knees on the chair arms, and, as I comply, you have me embrace the back of the barber's chair and you rehook my wrists to a latching in the midback of the chair.

You stand where I can see you spray cream from the can liberally on your erect, throbbing cock, and then you are behind me, first kissing and tonguing my hole, and then pushing the tab of the can into my hole and filling me with the last of the minty shaving cream. I feel you come up into the chair seat behind me on your knees, and then I am granted what I have been begging for for the last several minutes. Your cream-covered dick slides into my cream-filled hole, and strokes me and strokes me and strokes me… until the shaving cream has evaporated from the vigorous friction, to be replace with a warmer, far-more manly flood of cream—your cum, filling me, flooding me, and making