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Glen thought to himself. I’d started drinking my coffee black and my beer dark, not because he asked me to, but because he showed me that it could be better that way. I’d grown my hair nearly eight inches and learned to curl it and style it, again, not because he told me to do it, but because he loved to touch it and pull gently on it when we made love. I’d been in the shower one afternoon with him, and started to shave my armpits when he gave me an adorable little pout and told me he would miss my little ‘furry patches’ if I shaved them off. I put the razor back on the shelf and hadn’t used it on my armpits since, although my pussy had reaped the benefits of the razor, again, because it pleased him and made him smile. And so, the decision was made. I re-entered our walk-in closet and found a lovely pale green silk blouse that I normally wore with a bra and a camisole underneath. I walked back to the mirror and slid the sensuous fabric over my arms and shoulders. As I buttoned it, my dark nipples seemed to.
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