1983 hit like a vinyl record skipping on repeat, and there I was—Jill, twenty-one and too shy for my own good—sharing a cramped dorm with Erin, my best friend who never met a boundary she wouldn't tease. "You know what's kinky as hell right now?" Erin smirked over her beer, her eyes sharp as she leaned in. "Pubic shaving. Folks call it infantilizing, like we're playing dolls instead of women. But I say it's power, raw and rare." I blushed, heart racing, but shot back, "Power? Sounds like a dare from someone who can't handle natural." She laughed, witty and unyielding. "Natural's boring, Jill. Let's make it explosive. I shave you, you call the shots after—strong girls like us don't submit, we negotiate." The air thickened as she pulled out the razor, our dialogue sparking hotter: "Scared of a little edge?" "Only if your hands shake, Erin." Clothes fell away, her fingers tracing my skin until I was horny, wet, and dripping. She shaved me smooth, the act intimate and bold, then strapped on her cock—hard and ready. I took charge, guiding her ass as she panted, "Fuck, you're dripping for this." I gave her a blowjob that made her cum hard, sweating and panting while my pussy clenched around her thrusts. We came together in an explosive rush, strong and equal, every witty jab fueling the fire.
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