(Note: Just to be clear, this is fiction through and through. Tee-Hee! Thank you, my sweets, for visiting and reading the blog. Photos I used in this entry were product of my googlesearch. If you're the owner of these photos, thank you so much.)
Dear Diary,
I freaking adore my man! His beard did magic on my skin. When he rubbed his face against my skin, the feeling was beyond describable. Gooseflesh could only reiterate how I felt… and he freakin’ knew it!
Even with my eyes closed, I could tell that a beautiful smile graced his perfect face as he indulged me with his undivided attention. The feeling, if I could describe it in one word, was delicious!
“Right here, baby?” He would stop and ask… teasing me… pushing me over the edge! Then his lips, always in coordination with his hands, followed suit. Oh, God… those enchanted hands and lips… What they do me!
So many days we were apart… so many ways to make up for…
“I fucking missed you, Kristen,” he roared with such passion as he plunged deep into me.
I didn’t have to tell him how empty I felt when he wasn’t beside me. I showed him until the emptiness was filled, in fact overflowed, with love, security, and so much more.
When I woke up the following morning, I saw him staring at me with such worry in his eyes.
“What’s wrong, babe?” I asked; my voice was still hoarse from my peaceful slumber.
Instead of responding, he raised his hand holding a razor.
“What?” I was confused.
“Babe, IT IS TIME TO SHAVE OFF MY BEARD!” he said without humor in his voice.
“No!” I denied; just a little too hastily. “Babe, you can keep the beard before we begin working for Breaking Dawn. No rush, right?” I was practically begging, dear diary. Sure, I adore my man, bearded or clean-shaven. But there’s just something about him with THE BEARD! He looked mysterious and so bad… My very own bad boy!
My one and only love flashed me his signature smile but he shook his head telling me that it had to be done!
“Why? Baby, let’s not be hasty here.” I tell you, dear diary, I was almost in tears.
Without a word, he pulled the comforter off of me and there, I laid in my birthday suit before him.
“SO SOFT…” he whispered as he ran his fingers ever so gently against my skin. His eyes, glazed with love, adored my body along with his hands. Then he cringed as he added, “…AND SO RED.”
I hesitantly inspected my... well, my skin was undeniably irritated. But it wasn't that bad. Honest!
"BABY, I'VE RUINED YOUR PERFECT, CREAMY SKIN!" He said anxiously, brushing my reddish skin with his fucking, amazing fingers.
“It will go away,” I reasoned stubbornly.
He, then, sighed, a long and deep one for that matter. “I’m sorry, Baby,” he said, almost choking.
“What are you talking about, Rob?” With such speed, I got up and wrapped my arms around his neck. “What’s wrong?” I asked again.
He lifted and turned me around until I was securely sitting on his lap. “This,” he began, as he slowly and gently touched my face, “and this,” he continued on, touching my neck and down to the valley between my breasts. Then, he smiled sadly as he laid his hand on my tummy… and to places only he has the right to.
“I love you, Baby and I’m sorry about this.” He apologized once more before taking my lips with his.
“Baby, you have BEARD-BURN and IT IS MY FAULT,” he stated and he averted his eyes.
“Oh,” was all I could say.
“Oh? That’s it? Baby, you’re red all over.” The ever worrier love of my life grabbed the razor sitting on the bedside table. “Baby, it time for me to shave.”
I was quiet. Of course, he’s right. When we go out, the obvious redness on my face and neck, and places only Rob has access to, will, of course, get noticed. Some fucking people who call themselves writers will run a full page article about Rob, hypothesizing the effect of his beard on me… etc…etc…
“I don’t know what happened, Babe.” I told him honestly. “We’ve never had this kind of problem before! I don’t know… ”
He smiled sensing my agitation. “You do realize, Babe, that the, uh, actions we did in the past --- say couple of months --- could be considered PG13 compared to our activities for the last 18 hours or so.”
“Our intimate sessions were never PG 13, Mr. Pattinson!” I pointed defensively.
My Baby giggled. He’s so adorable whenever he does that. “Kristen, I KNOW! I’m just saying that compared with the recent events,” he winked at me, “our past dealings seemed mild. My face was literally glued on you since I got home, Babe! Your skin is proof of that!”
“I’ll take Benadryl, Baby! The redness will go away. Promise.” Can’t blame this chick to negotiate, dear diary. I just had to try, right?
“Nope! It’s time!” My baby said plainly and clearly; with that voice that told me he had made up his mind. Completely.
“Can I do it?” I asked with wide, pleading eyes.
“You want to shave me?” My man asked incredulously.
I hopped off of him and started jumping like an over-excited girl at Christmas.
“Shit!” My amazing, sweet man exclaimed. “YOU’RE FUCKING NAKED & YOUR HOPPING LIKE THAT DOESN’T MAKE IT ANY EASIER, KRISTEN!”
Oh? Oh! OH!!!
So, the playful ME took over and I started moving… and bouncing… dancing even. I used the dance steps I learned in filming my upcoming movie Welcome To The Rileys. Whatever it takes for him to give in.
“I am not going to pamper myself by kissing, sucking, or nipping you, Baby, until I shave off this beard. So you can stop,” he stated blatantly… Although his hands have already found residence on my ass. Such a man, my man!
“Fine! But, you, Mr. RPatzz, and I are going to have a shaving ceremony,” I told him with probably a contented expression on my face.
“A SHAVING CEREMONY?” The glint in his eyes told me he’s all for it. I’ve won!
I nodded. “I’ll shave you. Then we’ll also have ‘burial ceremony’ for your beard that I enjoyed so much…”
“How about the, er, hair that I’ll shave off of you, honey?” The ever detail-oriented ‘hubby’ of mine just had to ask.
“Huh? What do you mean? He lost me somewhere... Damn! He’s now showing me that fucking naughty smile of his. I was done! Holy crap! I cleared my throat as I laid out the plan, dear diary.
I smiled seductively and said with confidence, “Whatever you want, baby.”
“Great! Then, let’s do it!” My over-eager Rob practically carried me to the bathroom. “Then we’ll have to celebrate tonight.”
“That’s a great idea, honey. We’ll call Tom and the guys,” I suggested.
"Sounds good to me, Baby!" My man squeezed my asscheeks.
"One more round with the wicked BEARD before we bury it off, please... Baby, please..." What can I say, dear diary, my pleading paid off... Hmm... That was awesome!
***************************************
Um… An hour and a half later, my Baby and I were in the bathroom. I sat on the counter while he stood between my legs, facing the huge mirror.
“Should we pray first?” It’s a ceremony after all, I had to ask,
My baby laughed. “Kristen, you’re killing me!”
“Well,” I held out the razor in my right hand, and then slowly placed it on my baby’s face. “Here goes nothing!” I said as I shut my eyes tight!
“Baby! What the hell?” He screeched.
I opened my eye as quickly as I shut them. “Sorry,” I mumbled.
“You’re right, Hon. I think I SHOULD PRAY!” I scowled at him. “Fine, we’ll pray,” he finally relented.
"Do we do the sign of the cross.. you know to make it look like an official ceremony? Or should you say a few words or something?" I closed my eyes and we were quiet for a few seconds. Then I heard him chuckle.
“What?” I was getting pissed off but the amusement in his eyes told me he was provoking me.
My baby shook his head again but he sad on the bathroom floor genie-style.
“What are you doing?” This gotta be good, I told myself.
“We’re doing an Indian-style ceremony, Babe.” Then, my beautiful man started chanting like a wolf about to be slaughtered. It was painful, dear diary!
“Ah, Rob… It’s not working,” I interrupted him. “Wait here, I have an idea,” I told him.
A minute later, I went back with some candles and a lighter.
“What’s all these?” He asked, his brows meeting in the middle.
“It’s a ceremony and we have to do it right!” I wasn’t kidding either. I painstakingly arranged the candles on both ends of the countertop.
“Maybe we should say something as we light each candle, Babe. That it’d be cool!” With renewed excitement in my man’s eyes, he took the lighter from my hand and lit the first candle.
“May this candle light the path of those who call themselves writers but only write malicious and fabricated stories. May this light change their ways.” Ha! This is good therapy, I thought to myself. My baby was on to something.
I took the lighter from my baby and said my candle offering prayer. “Fuck the papz!” I said simply and winked at my baby.
He smiled as he lit the next candle. “Fuck the guys who stare at my baby's fine ass!”
I giggled. It was my turned. “Fuck those who hate my baby’s beard!”
The giggles started to turn into full blown laughter. “May I fuck the woman I love who loves my beard after this ceremony!”
We were having so much fun, dear diary… When suddenly… A loud beeping noise scared the living daylight out of us. The smoke that the candles were making triggered the smoke detector.
“Shit!” I exclaimed. “Rob, blow the candles. Quick! Before the sprinkler is activated!”
Umm… my Baby, in panic, turned the shower on, grabbed the shower head and sprayed it on the candles. The smoke detector stopped beeping but by then the countertop, the floor, me, and my baby were soaking wet.
“Kristen, turn the shower off!” Rob screamed.
I got up but slipped. I grabbed my Baby for support which he did not expect, and as a result, we both fell on the floor… With the water still on… The shower head in his hand.
The floor was so slippery that it was an effort to go shut the damn thing off!!!
We were quiet for a while. Neither of us wanted to talk. Was it my fault? Maybe. But will I admit that? Um, no!
I looked around the bathroom which was a picture of disaster; as if a tornado hit us.
Then, I heard Rob started to giggle. I smiled. Then, we were laughing like freakin’ hyenas.
We must have used more than a dozen towels to dry the place up, dear diary. We were quiet as we cleaned up but we were both smiling.
Fifteen minutes later, I sat back up on the countertop. “Okay, I think the ceremony, um, went well.”
My honey looked around and nodded. “I think so, too.”
“So, shall we begin?” I grabbed the razor and opened my legs so that he could stand between them.
“I think I have a much better idea,” my baby said winking at me. “I believe that as we’ve officially commenced the ceremony… we should… um… take our clothes off! The gods have spoken, love. They got us wet (No kidding! Wink!) coz they’re telling us to remove our clothes.”
Good point!
Well, dear diary, two hours and four band aides later my baby was clean-shaven! Why it took us two hours is another flamin’ hot story! Ummm… note that we were without clothes the whole time… Fuck! Sooo…. Amazing!
That afternoon, dear diary, my Baby and I buried his facial hair and my, um, something-hair, hrm…hrm… in our backyard.
There was, indeed, a proper burial for THE BEARD!
I glanced at my Baby and it hit me… I do love my baby better clean shaven! Ha!
“Baby, I love you,” I whispered before I wrapped my hands around him. I tiptoed and kissed his soft cheeks! “I think I like you better without facial hair,” I admitted.
My baby smirked. “You love me. Period.”
“You know it!” I agreed. He got me there.
“And I love you more than you know, baby.” That’s without a doubt!
“It was fun!” I said.
“It was!” He agreed. “Let’s go. We have to get ready for SoHo.”
“Shall we start doing some GETTING READY ceremony?” What? I always get what I want, right?
My baby stopped, knelt before me and started to caress my thighs… “I did this... so soft...” he said before he started kissing my thighs… then gently moved higher… and…
So, dear diary, could you blame us if were a few minutes late meeting our friends at SoHo? I guess not.
I gotta go coz my Baby and I just agreed to do a GETTING READY FOR BED ceremony which is why I’m only wearing two items… My ring and my necklace!
Gotta go. My baby is ready!
K
А Роб о нем заботится, чтоб у кота крыша от счастья мамы с папой не уехала 
