I’m taking a hot and frothy bubblebath when you come home from work. Like a typical man, you just call out from the foyer, though you have an intercom system in your large home.
“Jeanie, where are you?”
“Stella!” I yell back because you remind me of Stanley Kowalski in that scene from “Streetcar Named Desire.”
You come into my master bathroom (you have one of your own) without knocking.
“You make that bath look sexy?” you say with a big smile splitting your face.
“There’s lots of room in here..”
That’s all I need to say, you start shucking your clothes.
“It’s slippery…!” you note as you stick your foot in to test the temperature.
“I put some glycerin in the water. It makes my skin moist, keeps the bubbles longer.”
That’s all you need to hear, your hands briefly massage my shoulders, then move down, one hand finds my vagina, the other parts my buttocks to tickle my rosebud. I should’ve known that I wouldn’t be able to get clean in my bath. Fingers invade me in both erogenous zones. You are erect, you assume that just because my openings are slick that I’m equally ready. But my mind hasn’t caught-up yet. I get on elbows and knees, thrust my backside back at you.
“I need to be warmed-up…”
Your first spank sends bubbles flying in all directions. The slaps sting more intensely on moistened flesh, it doesn’t take long before I’m panting and eager for it. Your fingers in my pussy determine this before I can say anything.
Fingers open me, cock penetrates me, you fuck me. One hand now wraps in my long hair to pull my head back, the other plays in the crack of my ass, rimming me, driving me mad with lust as your member drives into my core. Water is splashing over the tub’s edge, my bath now resembles a storm-swept ocean. I can’t take it for long before I’m pulled into the vortex of the tsunami.
“I’m gonna cum!” I announce as I like to do. It seems to keep the ephemeral sensations from disappearing. “Cum with me…?”
You deny me the delight of a shared experience, as you keep pounding into me from behind, as I scream and crumple from the implosion. I feel you withdraw from my pulsating pussy. It makes me want to cry to feel so emptied and alone. But then I feel your manhood press against my rear dimple. You want it all. I try to relax, you take your time, the fuck becomes poignant as your fill me completely in this orifice. I feel really dirty being taken in this place. I never feel so wholly possessed as when you are up my ass. The glycerin does its job, lubricates just enough. I like it to burn a little as you thrust in and withdraw. It’s sinful, after all. God, forgive me for loving this forbidden act so, I think, as a whispered, “Oh, fuck!” escapes my mouth.
As if that is a command, you do, up the tempo, grind into me all the more. I bear down on you, we feel the heat. There is no way you won’t climax with me this time, it’s just too hot, too intense. I start to orgasm, the muscles contracting, squeezing you, gripping you, demanding the same from you. You join me. Our cries echo off the tile walls. We collapse, barely enough strength to hold our heads above the water surface.
That rollicking water soon quiets down, as does our breathing, all is still again, as it was before your intrusion into my privacy, into my private place.
“Welcome home, by the way,” I pant. “How was your day?”