More Than Friends The Bath

This is my first submission, even though it is part two of a potential three. It relates an encounter that is based in reality. This part begins after a heavy game of touch football, I realize that I am attracted to my tomboy friend, Christine, and the feeling is more than mutual. I hope you enjoy this installation, entitled : the bath.

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When I woke, I found myself in wholly unfamiliar terrain. I panicked for a moment, my senses telling me one thing while my mind rationalized my setting. My eyes saw a strange room, while my body told me I was in my own bed, but the light threw unfamiliar shadows against the wrong wall. I started, but caught myself when I realized what, or who, lay in my arms. Breathing quietly, snoring lightly, and pressed comfortably against me was Christine. At once I knew where I was. Immediately I knew what had happened, and I surrendered to it. Just a few hours ago, she had kissed me for the first time, and instead of fighting her like I thought I should have, instead of hiding in the "friend" cloak of lies that I had wrapped around myself, I succumbed to her lips, to the taste of her, to her heat and her passion, and to her willing body. I found myself in the arms of my best friend, sticky sweet in the afterglow of our lovemaking, sleepily content and more than a little shocked at the ferocity of our coupling. Her dining room table would never stand upright again. At the memory of our unexpected encounter just a few hours before, my body responded willingly and with renewed desire for the dark-haired beauty tucked against my chest.

While Chris slept, I crept quietly out from under the warmth of the sheets and her skin and into the bathroom. I turned on the water in the bathtub, stopped the drain, and let the tub fill, adding the bubble bath soap she kept on the shelf. I gathered the candles she kept around her apartment and filled every available flat surface in the bathroom with them. When the tub was filled, I tested the water to my satisfaction, lit the candles, and went back to the bedroom. Sliding under the sheets, I uncovered her naked, sleeping form and pulled her into my arms. Protesting drowsily, she wrapped an arm around my neck, facilitating my efforts to lift her from the bed and into the bathroom. I lowered her slowly to the water, and only when her skin touched the water did she open her eyes. By the time Chris knew what I was doing, I had her immersed to her breasts in the warm, soapy, bubbly water. She looked around the room, the only light from dozens of candles throwing a warm, firelight tone over the ceramic tile and porcelain. The look of mild shock on her face was replaced by a warm smile when she slid deeper into the water and looked me in the eyes.

I sat alongside the tub, and reached over to retrieve one of those springy things and an ample amount of liquid soap. Then, beginning with her left hand and working up her arm, I silently, but with a small and satisfied smile on my face, began to wash her skin in gentle, scrubbing motions. To my surprise, she said nothing. She let me scrub her skin clean of the sweat and dirt from the football game and the added sweat of our unexpected sexual encounter just a few hours ago. Once her arm was done, I moved to her other arm, up from the fingertips, over her wrist and to her shoulder. Dipping the springy thingy into the bubbly water, I drew her leg up and onto my lap, so she was reclined back in the tub. I scrubbed her toes, the sole of her foot, tickling the arch and over her heel. I washed long, slow paths to her knee and back to her foot, taking tender care over a bruise that had developed after the football game. I scrubbed slow circles over her hip, down her thigh, under her leg and back up again, teasing her with the motion of my hand as well as avoiding contact with her most sensitive of areas.

Finished with the left leg, I moved to take her right in my lap to continue the bath when Chris made a soft, whimpering tone I hadn't heard from her before. She nudged me in the stomach with her toes and pushed her hips toward my lingering hand. I smiled back, and asked her if she wanted to bathe herself or let me do it. Reluctantly, and with a small 'threat' characteristic of Chris, she relented and let me take her other leg in my lap. I repeated the same care and affection to her opposing leg as I did the first, careful to wash/ caress her thigh only so far, to let my fingers graze her skin only so high, before pulling back. When I stopped this time she started murmuring insults to my ancestral tree. I just laughed, then stood and slid into the bathtub behind her.

Pulling her against my chest, I rinsed the springy thingy in the bathwater and gently, achingly slowly, scrubbed her stomach, her hips, up to her breasts and neck, then down lower, just below her belly button, pausing there. Her hands encompassed mine and pressed downwards...I complied and brought my hand down into the tangle of her short, curly pubic hairs, slipping over her labia, pushing against, and finally into her. The hot water felt cool against my skin when my fingers pushed inside her. Chris gasped softly, her head leaned back on my shoulder, her damp hair sticking to my skin. I alternated light kisses and soft bites on her silky, exposed neck. I slid my long, lightly calloused fingers out of her, then back in again, her legs as far apart as the tub would allow, her knees poking out of the bubbles glistening in the candlelight and my opposite hand cupped over her breast. With her back arched against my chest, I know she could feel me in the small of her back, pressed against her, swelled and eager to replace my intrusive fingertips in her. I have to say I was ready to just throw away any ideas I had and take her right there, but I relented. I slowed the pace of my fingers and slid out of her.

She was, um, unwilling to let me go. I insisted and, with a few soft kisses up her neck and numerous promises, convinced her to let be continue. I pushed against her and sat her forward of me, soapy water and bubbles trailing down her back. I kept my left hand on her shoulder as I bathed her shoulders, down her back, over scrapes and pale purple bruises from the game. I intermingled hard and soft pressure from my fingertips, more massaging her than washing, but I don't think she cared. I then maneuvered her onto her knees, facing away from me. Taking the springy thingy again, I washed over her back, down her hips, and over her pale, firm ass. I scrubbed down her leg into the water, then up again over her sensitive pussy, teasing her and washing away the sweat and stickiness of our previous encounter. I bathed her thoroughly and slowly, before dropping the scrub and pushing two fingers into her from behind. I really couldn't wait anymore, I wanted to tease her and make her cum before I'd even started fucking her but my will was wearing thin. Part of it was the constant, low groans and whimpers coming from Chris when I slid my fingers into her hot, sweet pussy. I've always enjoyed a vocal lover, and Christine made some of the sexiest noises when she was aroused, I could barely contain myself. I moved faster, my hand a blur as my fingers drove deep and hard inside her. I could hear her breathing quicken, her hips thrusting backward against my hand. I caressed her supple bottom in my free hand, my thumb slipping into the spread crack of her ass, down to the tiny, brown dot of her asshole, pushing against her, and popping inside her to the first knuckle. Chris moaned/ pleaded/ begged/ wanted all in the same breath and I absolutely lost it.

I pulled my fingers from her and replaced them with the bulging head of my raging, wanting cock. I thrust inside her, the walls of her pussy gripping me like a glove. I felt like I was on fire and I needed to be deep inside her NOW. With my right hand I pulled her hips back to me, and my left hand remained on her upturned backside, on those gorgeous, dripping, soapy cheeks of her ass, my thumb buried and into her puckered asshole. The water splashed onto the floor, up the wall, soaked the rug as I slammed my hips against Christine. I barely left her when she pushed back against me, her hands bracing against the wall, wide-mouthed, breathless moans echoing off the tile of the bathroom fought against the slapping of our skin, the splashing of the water, the pounding of the blood in my ears.

Again and again I drove into her when I realized that I had been driving myself as far as I had been pushing her. Each caress thrilling myself as well as her, each tease tempting me as well, and now I could feel it building. My thumb invading and probing in the tight roundness of her ass, my cock drove again and again into her, my hips pile-driving against her. I heard a shout (mine/hers?) and felt her tighten against me. From my feet and the roots of my hair I drew in, built up so high I would break, and pulled Christine to me. I exploded, muscles tightening, breath gone, and from deep in my hips fired my burning cum into her gripping, burning pussy. I came for hours, or seconds, I'm not really sure. I was hot and cold, I drove again and again into her, and she did to me. When I finally caught my breath, I was leaning against the tile, Chris's back against my chest, my drained cock still deep inside her.

I breathed in the scent of her wet hair, her heart thundering against my chest, clutching her to me, almost afraid to release her for fear she'd disappear like fog in daylight. I felt her hand intertwine fingers with mine, tying me to her, binding me, keeping me close. She swore to me, that very moment we both knelt in the steaming water and bubbles in the bathtub and in full view of the amber glow from the candlelight, if I ever teased her like that again she'd have my balls for a bowling trophy.

Somehow, I believed her.