Author's note: Okay . . . the “missing hour” in Nemesiz story “Looking Good” drove me CRAZY. All of a sudden Kathryn is overcome with arousal, then it’s one hour later, she says she loves her hair. WHAT HAPPENED?! I decided to take the liberty of writing what went on! :) It’s oddly erotic, in a twisted sort of way... almost silly. I have never known anyone who “trembled with anticipation” at getting their hair brushed! Good grief. But I hope the reader enjoys it as much as I and my darling Nem did *s* Oh, and I suggest that you read her story first.
Rating: NC-17, J/C
60 min
by: Kait
God I love my hair. Or love it because he loves it, he love I love it. That’s how it is, what he loves I love. Most of the time, anyway...
“Honey! What are you doing?” he askd from the living room.
“I’m brushing my hair.” I answer, knowing that he will come. As I
felt his lips against my neck I knew I was right.
“Why don’t you let me do that?" I can feel myself getting excitingly wet.
“Here.” I hand him my brush. “Feel free to do as you please.”
And so he begins, gently pulling back my hair over my shoulders and
smoothing it out with his hands. He holds it in his hands a moment,
then he leands in and whispers in my ear, “You are so beautiful...you know that?” With his words and the tickle of his breath, my knees go weak.
I then feel the familiar bristles at the crown of my head, and I
tremble with anticipation. I feel the gentle scratch and soft whoosh as he glides the brush down through my scalp and on down further, gently touching my neck and back. I shiver as the bristles touch me where they were not made to . . . a tingle on my sensitized skin. He senses my qusking body and turn to kiss my face.
“You like this, Kathryn...?” his lips mumur against my cheek.
“Oh, yes,” I respond. “Very much so...don’t stop, Chakotay...”
And so he complies with my plea of sensual vanity, lifting the brush
to my head again and beginning his slow stroking motion. He does this several times over, and I feel ripples of pleasure flood through my whole body. His gentle touch and the rough bristles are an erotic paradox, and I nearly melt into him.
He senses my arousal, so strong it is weakening me, and he supports
me, lifting me into his arms and carrying me to my bed. He settles in behind me, trailing kisses over my right shoulder before he begins again. And it is the same thing, sensual tingles running through my veins along with blood that is made hot with his ministrations. He uses both hands, one to brush, and the other to follow, smoothing out my hair and caressing the length of my back in the process. It feels so good, I could never get enough. I resist naught the temptation to moan, softly. I close my eyes and I sit as he brushes my hair, loving every precious tantalizing moment. He stops too soon, though, and I nearly cry out in protest. But he is not finished, not yet.
Setting down my brush, he takes up his hands and puts them up through
the nape of my neck, running them through my scalp. The cool touch of his fingers make me shiver, and I breathe his name in excitement. He responds with a warm kiss to the top of my head. I settle against him as his hands tangle in my newly-brushed hair, but I don’t even mind. It feels incredible, his fingers stroking me there. Eyes closed, I arch against him. He responds with a kiss to my cheek and more tender caresses.
I continue to arch my body in plea...I love this, I want more, don’t
ever stop...my body is saying to him. And my arousal is very isible, I feel my nipples erect and protruding into my cream-colored silk nightgown. He notices them, too, I know, for suddenly he takes the thin straps from my shoulders and drops them, gently, and we both watch them fall. My breasts are suddenly visible, the rosy nipples out in the air. I watch them as much as he does, fascinated with myself. He then takes my hair and pulls its length over my left shoulder so it fall softly over my breast. He then takes up my brush again, and begins to brush out my long mane. The bristles tease my sensitive breast, and I nearly whimper as it lightly scratches my nipple. My hand instinctively goes to the other breast, rubbing thenb b neglected nipple forgivingly.
And so we sit there, him brushing my hair lovingly and both of us
caressing my breasts. He kisses my head and murmurs, “I love you.”
I lean up to kiss him and tell him the same, when my nightgown slips
further down my body, resting on my hips. He looks down, realizing I
am not wearing anything underneath. I smile as he traces my bare lower abdomen in surprise.
“You’re not wearing any panties.” he says to me.
“I never do when I brush my hair.” I reply. I smile again as his
fingers touch where he expected a waistaband to be. Should his fingers travel lower, he would discover just how excited I am...
God I love my hair.
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