Taffeta
The color of my dress was green, the color of my eyes. That first time, I remember dressing myself for hours. Like I was a bride. I prepared myself well, if not nervously.
The day before I shaved my legs, my underarms and then I took bold strokes with my pubic mound. One stroke led to another, and what I usually did so I could wear a bikini… well, all the rest came off too. There wasn’t one lock of silky hair remaining between my legs. I liked the look. Taut legs, a firm belly, enhanced breasts to a full “D” cup, and now a shaved pubic mound making me look almost virginal—almost. I was any man’s dream, so I thought.
On the day of my daring new venture, I prepared with a scented cream, every inch of me covered with a confection that would taste as good to the tongue as its aro
