"I'll shave my bush if you shave yours," Kate had goaded, tapping the crotch of her blue jeans invitingly. Ollie had stared at her for a long period of time, eyes shifting from that sexy-ass smirk down to those incredibly oh-so-tight dark denims as he clutched his beer bottle. It hadn't been the thrill of loss of hair--Ollie would want to fuck Kate even if she was walking around with a gorilla's bush--but the temptation of seeing Kate in a way he never had before was too much to resist.
Kate's side of the promise was being fulfilled a little too quickly, he thought with distaste as she masterfully applied the warm wax, and then instantly began ripping out hair, only barely wincing as she pulled each strip. It looked like murder to Ollie, and yet seeing her reach down between her legs, wince a little with that little lip bit just right, and then repeat made the front of his own jeans tighter than ever. He reached over, large and rough hands grabbing at her bare arms, attempting to pull her closer. For probably the first time in their relationship, Kate pulled away.
"Oh no," she purred, turning around so he could examine her now-slick-if-a-little-red mound of venus as she took another shot of tequila. "Your turn, gordito."
Ollie looked at the men's razor in her hand. In hindsight, downing three more tequila shots of his own while she was doing her own thing was a terrible idea, because now the room was spinning like a carousel and he knew he was lingering precariously close to the line between best drunk lover ever and a massively disappointing whiskey dick. There was also the small matter of the razor suddenly looking like a gigantic beard-eating monster. Kate took a step towards him threateningly. "Oliver Queen," she slurred, coming closer and closer, suddenly slipping into a stream of Spanish that was both horrifying and incredibly hot to him. He reached out once more, hoping, only to get his hands smacked away as she crawled onto his lap, hot and sticky pelvis grinding against him. He managed to whimper only once as she turned the razor on and leaned down.
The next day, Mia found herself making multiple runs to the pharmacy for Kate's irritated crotch and Ollie's horrendous razor burns.
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Kate's side of the promise was being fulfilled a little too quickly, he thought with distaste as she masterfully applied the warm wax, and then instantly began ripping out hair, only barely wincing as she pulled each strip. It looked like murder to Ollie, and yet seeing her reach down between her legs, wince a little with that little lip bit just right, and then repeat made the front of his own jeans tighter than ever. He reached over, large and rough hands grabbing at her bare arms, attempting to pull her closer. For probably the first time in their relationship, Kate pulled away.
"Oh no," she purred, turning around so he could examine her now-slick-if-a-little-red mound of venus as she took another shot of tequila. "Your turn, gordito."
Ollie looked at the men's razor in her hand. In hindsight, downing three more tequila shots of his own while she was doing her own thing was a terrible idea, because now the room was spinning like a carousel and he knew he was lingering precariously close to the line between best drunk lover ever and a massively disappointing whiskey dick. There was also the small matter of the razor suddenly looking like a gigantic beard-eating monster. Kate took a step towards him threateningly. "Oliver Queen," she slurred, coming closer and closer, suddenly slipping into a stream of Spanish that was both horrifying and incredibly hot to him. He reached out once more, hoping, only to get his hands smacked away as she crawled onto his lap, hot and sticky pelvis grinding against him. He managed to whimper only once as she turned the razor on and leaned down.
The next day, Mia found herself making multiple runs to the pharmacy for Kate's irritated crotch and Ollie's horrendous razor burns.