Entwined in Her Braids
“Rowena, your hair is dripping all over the floor. What happened to your hair dryer?”
“Since I use that poor overworked blow dryer every morning I decided she needed a rest.”
“Well, there is something sensual about how your soaked bangs stick to your face.”
“Kathy braided my ponytail just for you. But little did she know my intentions. Though she was curious when I told her it was a ‘cock sock’ she’d heard all she needed to she said.”
John says, “The things you come up with are out of this world. Like the time you wanted me to suck your strands of hair as though that by itself was a turn on for you.”
Ro says, “Well, I had Kathy make my hair into a tube just the right size for your endowment. In fact, I had her adjust it for shrinkage. You see your manly massif is about the size of my thumb and the finger next to it. So she wove it just right.”
“I can’t imagine what you have in mind.”
“The hot towel is on the waterbed. Kindly place your tush upon it. Then I’ll lie between your legs face up with my wet hair giving your figs a tickle.”
“The things you talk me into. Like when you had me and you walk in the rain in our pajamas naked underneath with little left to our fellow pedestrian’s imaginations.”
Ro says, “Now proceed to our liquid stuffed bed and lay your ass down like a good little boy.”
Rowena rests her head upon his testosterone factories with the gentleness of a dove sitting on her eggs. His buns are warmed by the hot towel like biscuits kept just right in a not too hot oven.
She reaches above her head to grasp the hair stocking in one hand and his cock in another. She is such a witchy woman but this idea of hers strangely has him already hardened in his resolve to follow through with this devilish plan of hers. And so she curls her tressed tail up, over, and around his thickened throb which makes him bounce.
“You’ve got the idea. You do the work because I did my part coming up with this scenario.”
His hips roll like a sea plant in the waves. The heat of her hot showered hair knit sinks into his rod with him a canopy of kelp afloat on the sea of her softness which surrounds him as he plunges into her Caribbean. Her hand is a Gulf Stream which carries his prick into the tropic of her femininity. He finds strength in her womanhood as she gives him a squeeze of encouragement to coax him into the love nest her hairstylist created.
His fate is in her hands as the storm surge of his naked love for her seals his destiny in the immersion of her golden fleece. The soaked ribbons of hair wrap around him like her lips. In the total eclipse of their concupiscent love his hips rock him into her paradise. John finds himself stuck in her now dried hair like in a Chinese finger trap. Rowena says, “Just wait until you go soft, no problem honey.”
Someone knocks on the door. It is Carol, Ro’s best friend. “Remember, you gave her an emergency key for the door. She could walk in any minute. How do we get out of this predicament?”
Rowena says, “Damn, get the scissors from the nightstand. Rapunzel grew back her hair and so will I. Desperate times call for insane measures.”
I love this!
Thank you so much my friend! Really overjoyed that my story pleased you. Much gratitude.
John
My pleasure, John
Another beauty! xx
Thanks so much Hj Furl! Glad you enjoyed my naughty little vignettes. 🙂
John