One day Trey forgot to shave, or maybe he didn’t by design, but in any case that night when he ate me out, his beard, barely there though it was, rasped my inner thighs. Truth is, I didn’t mind. It was different, almost as if he were a different person, a stranger, and that idea led to one of my best cums.

Afterwards I smoothed my hands across his barely there beard hairs. Not even fuzz really. And the idea came to me.

“Trey, you should grow a mustache.”

“Really?” he responded. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” I confessed. “I think you might look cute.”

“You mean you don’t think I look cute now?” he said.

“You could look even cuter. Humor me. Give it a try.”

Three days later his mustache was discernible. “Do I look cuter?” he asked.

“Adorable,” I said. “Strangely, it makes you look younger.”