I start rubbing it gently up my right leg as my mind races. God, he didn’t even tease my legs; he only had them on his shoulders. Shit I think to my...elf, if I can’t survive a shower by myself how am I going to survive a date with him. I grab my razor sliding it against my skin; first stroke from the ankle, up the shin, across the knee, and up my thigh. I repeat this action until my leg is completely smooth. I then move on to other areas.All the work we ladies do for you fellas. I rub my hand at. She had not had sex by choice, since her last boyfriend broke her heart. Breaking up about a year ago, she was only able to have meaningless, usually, unsatisfying sex. She usually went about two months before spreading her legs for someone. She didn't care, since she was completely honest with the guy from the beginning. Whoever the guy was, he knew she wanted no relationships, or boyfriends. All she wanted was to get fucked once in a while. Men being men, she never had a problem finding. “I-I’m sorry. I-I’ve been in such a state that I haven’t done anything about supper.”“Relax, poppet. We can always have bacon and eggs or something. What you need now is a stiff drink and to come and listen to some soothing music.”She gave him a lop-sided smile and disengaged.Peter poured their drinks and led her to the drawing room and put on a disc of Beethoven’s three best loved sonatas. He sat on the sofa and patted the seat beside him. She sat slightly timorously beside him. The dogs. Then John's hand and mouth were incredibly irritating. The hands which had been clutching his head to her breast shoved him off. A moment later, she was terribly embarrassed; he was her husband and had that right. Before she could apologize, though, John was kissing her forehead. "Dear girl," he said. "I love you."A moment later, he was climbing over her. He got between her legs, and his hand went back to her most private parts. "Bend your knees a little more," he said. She felt something.