She hears the rattle of keys in the front door. A clang as they fall on the ground. A curse from a masculine voice. Finally the man on the other side manages to open the door. With a bang he shuts it, and she can hear the keys being thrown onto the key rack. Obviously he is not in a good mood. Her assumption is confirmed when he enters the living room and throws himself on the couch, his only answer to her greeting of "Hello, love" is a grunt in return.
"Gonna take a shower," he says as he gets up after barely ten seconds. Briefly he leans towards her to plant a quick kiss on her lips. She smells him... Strong, slightly sweaty, overwhelming her senses. A tingling travels down her spine. Her eyes follow him as he walks out of the living room, resting on his firm buttocks.
As soon as he is out of sight, she stands up, following quietly. She watches him disappear down the hallway. His clothes are being thrown roughly onto the bed. She dives back behind the door when he exits the bedroom to go to the bathroom with the spacious shower. On tiptoes she sneaks to the bedroom, unbuttoning her blouse. The shower curtain opens, water starts pouring. Quickly she undresses, then she opens her cupboard to produce a tight-fitting white shirt and white lacy bikini-style panties. As she slips the panties on, her finger brushes over her clit. She shivers. Then she makes her way to the bathroom, her right hand idly rubbing her nipples through her shirt.
She pulls the curtain open, reaching for his shower gel. He glances over his shoulder at her, frowning. "Seriously, I am not in the mood."
"I am not asking you to be in the mood," she replies, rubbing the shower gel over her hands. Standing behind him, she puts her hands on his shoulders, starting to massage him. With smooth strokes, she runs her hands over his back. He looks like he wants to protest, but in the end he merely sighs and lets her continue.
"Tell me about it," she says, inviting him to empty his irritations. She listens to him talk about his day, his problems, his annoyances. While he speaks, her hands gently caress his shoulders, arms, back. The soap allows her hands to glide smoothly over him. She listens to him, specifically for the correct queues a which to answer with appropriate "Hmm ... Yes ... Really ...". Her hands travel lower, hovering for a short period over his buttocks, then down the back of his legs.
By now her hair is wet from the shower water splashing over her. Her white shirt, half-wet half-dry, shows little bits of the dark ring of her nipples through the damp cloth. She moves up again, pressing firmly over the tense muscles of his back. Her breasts touch his bum, causing two wet spots over her nipples, revealing them now completely, yet still hidden by her shirt. Expertly her fingers work against his tension. Sneakily she presses her lower body lightly against him, her smooth leg against his.
Her arms curl around him, her hands rubbing over his stomach. He stops talking for a moment.
