I poured a glass of chardonnay, Gabriel Yard played softly from somewhere in the house, the wood floor beneath my feet is cold, glancing at the clock , I still have plenty of time. I walked to the bathroom, reaching over I start to fill the old claw foot tub, lighting several white pillar candles, I placed them around the tub, adding a few drops of rosemary oil to the water. Letting the short white silk robe fall to the floor, I flicked off the lights, letting the candles light my way.
Slowly stepping in to the warm water with anticipation, dunking down - soaking my long hair, smoothing it away from my face, closing my eyes and resting my head back against the cool porcelain. A lazy smile tugs at the corner of my mouth as I let a wet finger trace the outline of my lips - following again with the tip of my tongue. Caressing my neck - sliding my hand over my right breast, my nipples hardening beneath my touch, straining. Moaning softly, both hands cascading down my flat belly, praising the long hours of dedicated work outs the last several months. Over my thighs, gently gripping between them - massaging - feeling the tense knots soften and relax. My hand rests between my legs, my finger teasing the outline of my lips, throbbing inside.
An intense ache beginning to build up. A fire smoldering. Trickling throughout my body. Tingling. Quivering. A heat crashing down to the pit of my stomach. Gently trailing a finger over my swollen clit. "Ohhhh..." biting down on my bottom lip. I tremble from somewhere lost in side. From partially opened eyes I watch my breasts peaking out from under the water, cutting the surface. Begging to be sucked on, teased. Tortured. Hands slick from the bath oil I grasp both breasts, rising slightly out of the warm silky water, back arched. With a flip of my head I toss my long hair behind me - drips of water pour onto the cool floor. Resting my head back, holding a tit in each hand, pinching my perky nipples, enjoying the fullness. Hands expertly circling each one, savoring the firm roundness. Reaching for my abandoned glass of wine, taking a sip and then another.
Rolling the chilled wine throughout my mouth. Dining on hints of oak & butter that lingers. I let my hand return to my clitoris, amazed at the size it has swollen to. Sliding a finger inside my lips. So wet. Even in the warmth of the bath I can feel how hot my juices have become. Letting my legs rest against the sides of the tub, I toy with this heated spot. My body begging for its release. I prop one foot up on the edge of the tub. Plunging one finger inside and then two. My thumb making small calculated circles of my swollen nubbin.
From somewhere in the house, past the music, past the sound of water gently rocking and splashing against the tub, and my own muffled moans I hear something. A slight noises. Something in the air. As I inhale I catch the distinct smell if something raw. Something salty even. Something very male. Eyes fluttering open, the candle light flickering around the room casting shadows about. Steam paints over the wall tiles and mirrors, covering its canvas in a moist blanket of dew. And I see you. Your body rigid, leaning against the door. Your shirt lays at a puddle next to your bare feet. You still have your jeans on from work, the top button is undone. My eyes skim over your stomach. From here I can see the rise and fall of your chest as your breath quickens and then becomes shallow.
