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Girl learns what's wrong with her way of life.
Strange, warm sensations began to envelop me. I felt myself getting wet. I began to wriggle again.
"Chloe: I can't do this if you're going to keep on fidgeting."
"I'm sorry," I said. "It's just - you're making me feel randy."
"Try and control yourself until I've finished. Then if you want me to I'll sort you out."
"I'll try," I said.
Rose finally let go of my lips, and began to run the razor between my two openings, over my perineum. I twisted and groaned aloud.
"This is no good," said Rose. "I'm going to have to sort you out before I finish."
She put down the razor and put her hand over my vagina: I felt as though it was going to melt. Then she did something extraordinary: she gripped one of my lips between her thumb and forefinger and the other lip between her two smallest fingers, and with her middle finger slotted firmly over my clitoris began to knead me. The sensation was amazing: not just my clit but the whole of my fanny was being massaged and stimulated at the same time. My lips were swelling, my clit was swelling: I felt as though the whole area between my legs was on fire.
"Oh my God Rose," I gasped: "Oh oh oh oh oh."
It was a wonderful, mind-blowing orgasm, which left me reeling with sensations I'd never experienced before.
"Jesus, Rose," I said when I'd recovered my breath. "How on earth did you learn that?"
"Years of practice," smiled Rose. "Now can we get on with your shave?"
"Yes," I sighed.
She carried on, shaving my perineum, parting my buttocks and shaving around my arsehole, stopping now and then to soap me some more.
"Right," she said. "I think you're done, but I'm going to go over you again, and make sure I haven't missed anything."
She leant right over me, scrutinising me, parting my lips and exposing any hidden crevices, occasionally making a little scrape with the razor.
"There," she said. "How's that look?" She took the mirror and held it behind my bottom: I could see the reflection of my parts from below: they looked unfamiliar, as though they belonged to somebody else and not me. It was too far away to detect any hairs.
"Smooth as the day you were born," said Rose. "Now rinse yourself over the bucket and get dried."
"Thank you Rose," I said, doing as she instructed, though I was still almost drunk from my orgasm. Then I lay back on the bed with my legs open, enjoying the sensation of air on my fanny.
"You're very sensitive you know," said Rose. "Very quick to rouse."
"Am I?" I said. "I'd never thought of it before."
"With some women it's like rubbing a stone," said Rose. "You can diddle them for an hour before they come."
"You know Rose," I said, "I always used to hate the idea of shaving. I thought it was something only gullible women did to make themselves look like porn queens, or because their boyfriends liked it. But actually it feels sexy. Like taking off a last layer of clothes you never knew you were wearing."
"That's a good way to think about it," said Rose, "since it has to be done anyway. But you ought to put your knickers back on, just in case Dawes makes a surprise visit."
Reluctantly I put on the skirt and knickers, without pulling the latter up tight.
"Are you ready to do me yet or do you want to bask?" asked Rose.
In truth I just wanted to savour the afterglow of my orgasm: but I didn't like to keep Rose waiting, so I told her I was ready.
Rose now put her folded towel on her bed, wet her fanny with water from the jug, soaped herself and lay down. I noticed the line of her pubic hair started much higher up than mine, and I began to draw the razor down, over her two-day stubble, over her mound.
"Not so hard," she said. "You're not scraping paint. Let the razor do the work."
I drew the razor lightly, and found it worked just as well. Then, seeing I had missed a small area I drew the razor back upwards."
"Ouch," said Rose. "Only from top to bottom, with the direction of the hairs please."
"Sorry," I said. "When Hardiman shaved me she did it every which-way."
"She would," said Rose.
I carried on, trying to keep a light to