After the first part of my story I got a message telling me that I should stop these "rubbish" stories about my head shaving fetish. I only can say that the sender of that message does not have to read my stories. I know that there are a few readers who like my stories a little bit. So, for these who like them, here is the second part.
Mark and I worked at the same bar in Colorado and we ended up being good pals. He was very gay and at the time I was mildly curios. He had a big time foot fetish which seemed harmless enough as he loved massaging my feet and I loved him doing it.
Now that I think about, I'm guessing that frigid bitch of a counselor is probably herself a closet lesbian who secretly wants to get into my wife's panties herself.
I once fantasized about having a special barber and beauty shop for shaving hot make athletes. The price varies depending on the area to be shaved and the techniques involved. I would collect their aroma and made special perfumes from it.
After flipping through channels they stopped the search while watching an old black and white pirate film. Some member of the crew had just done something wrong.
Well, Hokay, I thought. But I wasn't being paid to be confused or smart. So I turned my face toward Nabil and gave him a friendly smile. He gave me back a smartassed look fully conveying that this night would be a double.
Hot encounter with this exotic young man. He used his own fantasies and techniques of yoga and spicy tea to make our sex last longer. We has sex six times a night for two nights.
That night, a victim of my urges, I walked back down to the square in the twilight after dinner with those fairy lights in the olive trees around the fringe of the stone cafe terrace.
It seemed an arrangement made in heaven, but it proved to be their downfall. Just when Sandy and I thought that our foursome could not get any better, there was a bitter battle royal in the old villa above St. Julian's that we could hear down at the art gallery in the harbor.