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From: lifebgood@aol.com (Lifebgood)
Subject: True Story: My lst Time Part 2 (FfF shampoos, enema, shaving)
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Subject: My First Experience <fff> shampoos, enema, shaving
Part II

	
	Then I felt another tongue diving into my vagina.  I began to
spasm and shake almost violently in a second (or was it third or fourth)
orgasm.  Who was causing these incredible sensations?  I reached up and
grabbed the head that was suckling my breasts and pulled it harder down
onto my nipple.  Her hair was matted and soaked -- in hot oil.  

	As the orgasm subsided she kissed her way up to my lips and
lingered there.  Slowly lips disengaged from lips.  Four sets in all. 
Once again, fingers began to skip through the dark, caressing my body
until they once again found homes in my most sensitive erogenous zones.  I
could feel the tide rising again.  Another kiss, as our tongues met, I
felt light whisps of dry hair tumble along side my face and tickle my ear.
 Mary and Margot had changed places.

	No sooner had that realization set in than a second tongue
launched into my vagina and homed in on my clitoris.  I ignited like a
sky-rocket enroute to another orgasm.  I've been divorced and virtually
celibate for 10 years.  It seemed like was packing 10 years of missed
sexual activity into one unbelievable night.

	After that I was sexually exhausted but physically invigorated and
content beyond words.  In fact, I could barely speak.  Margot turned on a
very dim light.  As my eyes adjusted, I could see we were all naked.  She
and Mary must have had a good time of their own before working on me. 
"Now, let's get you both cleaned up," she said, "we've got showers to
take, shampoos to give, and you two have to get up early tomorrow, I'll
bet."

	"Tomorrow?", I'd completely forgotten about tomorrow or where I
was for that matter.  I jumped off the table in a near panic.  As I
landed, Margot grabbed me a gentle but firm bear hug and said in that same
voice when she started the enema, "Settle. Relax.  You'll be out of here
in no time, but let's not spoil all those good feelings we've generated
inside you by sending you out of here all tense."

	Then she led us to a beautiful master bath with (another) Jacuzzi
and a huge, glass shower stall at least six or seven feet square with
shower heads on three walls and bench seats on two adjoining walls.  She
started the water, adjusted the temperate and led us inside.  She had each
of us sit on the benches as she directed two of the showers over us.  Then
she poured a generous amount of shampoo on each of our scalps.  She worked
each our heads into a slight lather then said, "OK, you two shampoo one
another but you'll have to lather twice or tomorrow you'll each
have stringy, oily hair instead of rich, smooth shiny hair.  

	As we shampooed each other, she quickly wet herself down,
shampooed once (because she did not have a head full of hot oil), soaped
up, rinsed off and aimed the showers back at us to rinse out our first
shampoos.  Then she stepped out of the stall for a second and came back
with another bottle of shampoo...another desert flower something or
other...and poured about a quarter cup over each of our heads.

	"OK, we work this up into a good lather, then we'll also use this
as a body shampoo, instead of soap, so we don't strip away all that good
stuff I've worked into you."  Then she stepped behind Mary and said, "I'll
shampoo Mary and Mary will shampoo you."   From behind, Mary worked up a
frothy lather on my head.  There were billows and billows of suds running
down my back, over my shoulders, trickling down under my arms, over my
face and down my front over my breasts. With eyes closed to keep the soap
out, I was in a cocoon of suds insulating me from the cares of the world. 
My sense of fair play said I should be doing something to reciprocate but
deep down, I was glad to be on the receiving end without having to do
anything.

	Mary's hands then slipped around to my face and gently massaged my
temples, my cheeks, my forehead, my eyelids, chin and neck.  Then she slid
her hands under my arms and washed my armpits and around to my breasts --
which she washed particularly well.  Next she slid her hands down over my
belly, across my mons, and back to my buttocks.  She went back to my hair
for a fresh supply of lather.  Then with what I am sure was two giant
handfuls of suds, began caressing my mons before slipping around to polish
my bottom which she worked on for what seemed like several minutes.

	Then I felt a hand trying to lift my leg.  I couldn't imagine what
I was supposed to do.  "Put this foot up on the bench, darling", I heard
Margot say.  "Whatever for?", I asked.  "So I can shave you, like I said,
darling."   "I don't think that will be necessary," I replied, "I don't
think I'd like that."  

	"You'll like even less being two-thirds shaved", she said, "so you
might as well let me finish."  I reached down to my mons.  It was mostly
smooth like a baby's butt although I could still feel some hairs down
close to the labia.  "Won't it itch when it grows back?", I asked.  "You
won't let it grow back", she replied, " you'll come to love it like this,
honest."

	In a few minutes we were all rinsed and out of the shower and
drying off.  As I stood in front of the mirror with my towel wrapped
around under my arms, she handed us both scrunchies the wet pony tails we
were pulling our hair into.  Then without a word she removed my towel and
proceeded to powder me all over.  Again, it was some incredible desert
product -- Essence of Apache Wind Dancer, or something -- that like
everything else she'd put on or in my body that night felt the smoothest
and silkiest of anything I'd ever tried.  Powder often made me feel dry,
this seemed to dry all dampness off my body while leaving me feeling
moisturized but not damp.

	Moments later, we were in her car and she was driving us back to
the hotel.  "I don't know how to bring this up," I said, "but how much do
we owe you?"   "You owe me nothing," she replied, "if you were pleased, I
am pleased and that's all that matters."   "I told you she was a 'sister',
Mary said.  

	"So now that that's cleared up", Margo asked, Tomorrow night, same
time?"   I apologized saying I had dinner and drinks with customers for
the next two nights.  (Really.  At these industry conferences, we try to
schedule our customers for dinners or entertainment out away from the
competition's representatives so they hear our message, not the other
companies'.)  Friday night, perhaps.  Friday wouldn't work for her.

	We talked very little in the car the rest of the way to the hotel.
 I was trying to come to grips with what had happened.  I never before had
an orgasm(s) like that, never had lesbian experience, a Valium-laced
enema, or had my pubic hair shaved.  I was silently humming the song "I
had the time of life."  I was definitely glad that I had been on the
receiving end so much attention.  As I thought about it, I couldn't
develop any excitement about returning any of the favors I was so thankful
to receive.  I wasn't turned off, repulsed, just uninterested in kissing a
woman or performing oral sex on her.

	When we got back to our room, Mary asked if I'd really had a good
time.  I told about silently humming the song and she said "I'm very glad.
 I didn't know things would turn out how they did.  It could have been
just a massage but I knew you needed something -- some release.  I'm happy
for you."

	I brushed my teeth and jumped into bed.  When Mary came out of the
bathroom, she turned off the light and started to get into bed with me.  I
said I really needed my sleep because the next two days would be brutal at
the conference.  She was offended, in fact, she cried.  I told her again
how incredible the night had been and that I really wasn't rejecting her
(but I was).  "I would like a good night hug and kiss," I said.  She gave
me a perfunctory squeeze and a kiss on the cheek.  I took her wet hair in
my hand and pulled her face to my lips and kissed intently, but not
passionately because there was no passion.

	We barely saw each other for the rest of the conference.  We were
both up early each morning and I didn't return to the room until 1:30
(when the hotel bar closed) each night.  She's called several times since
we returned to the East Coast.  I can't get into the idea of a
relationship with her or any woman.

	But I would very much like to recreate that one special night
where everything happened to me like magic.  I've even thought of flying
back to Phoenix to see Margot but I don't know her last name or phone
number.  It would be incredibly rude and insensitive to ask Mary for it. 
I just couldn't do that to her. 

	Maybe it's because I know you can't catch magic in a bottle that I
only dream about repeating that night, so perfect in every respect.  I
don't ever want to forget it and that's why I wrote this story.  I re-read
it and re-live it every three days when I'm shaving.


Corinne.



	
	


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