Authors Note – Please read "The Beginning..." and "The Dream Continues" series. They may you understand this tale.
Chapter 6: The Weekend Starts Flying
Washing after great sex had become ritualistic, but my wonderful friend was having none of this.
She snaked up the bath, her engorged teats just brushing my skin. She bowed her head, took my right nipple in her mouth. She began to nibble, bite, and suck, until it was very hard.
Finally, after some minutes of ministration, the tip slipped past her clamping teeth, it was my turn to yelp.
Her mouth nibbled, and kissed, it's way to my left breast. She started again. Her left hand took the nipple that she had recently released, and she rolled it hard between her thumb and forefinger.
I was on fire with desire.
All this time her hair was floating magically on the foam that covered the surface of a very full bath.
She repeated her trick. She pulled my left teat hard as it slipped through her teeth. I yelped again. She took both nipples between her fingers and thumbs, to continue her torture.
She lifted her breasts clear of my body, points jutting hard downwards. She slowly moved each nipple until they couple with, and to press hard into, my own engorged teats.
She pressed her breasts flat on my chest, and whispered: "I want you to wash me all over, I want you to cleanse every part of me. I want you to wash my hair." We kissed long and hard.
She rolled onto her back, breasts heaving, big globs of foam sticking here and there. Those hard magical points glistening wet. I slipped my arms under hers to take a nipple between the middle fingers of each hand. I massaged them very lightly as I cupped her breasts.
Then, for a while, I began to run my forefingers, and thumbs, slowly up and down the hard stems. I stroked and felt all the textural contours of her glorious thick teats.
But we did not want sex again, so we soaked up the embrace of warm water. We were still.
Later she slowly slipped down my stomach between my legs, further from me, until her head was under the foam.
She submerged, wisps of gleaming jet black hair still floating on the foam, but she was otherwise invisible.
She sat upright as she finally came up for air, took a bottle of shampoo, and past it behind to me. I poured the sweet smelling lotion onto my hands, and, for the first time in my life, I was washing a girl's hair.
I found it very erotic. Gently lathering and massaging her scalp, while she sat between my legs. My penis was nestling against the small of her back; I passed my hands back under her armpits and shampooed both breasts.
Her nipples had adopted that magnetic stance, long, full, and hard. If you bent one up it simply flicked, if you bent it down, it simply flicked back. It jutted straight out.
I wanted to look, and to play. She sensed this, so turned round to face me, kneeling between my legs. She bent forward, her tits hanging down, and I continued to massage her scalp.
She rose so that she was upright on her knees, and I could see her magnificent, complete, dense black bush of pubic hair. I transferred lather into the curls, and shampooed them.
My fingers entered her cunt, my right hand pulled her to me, so I was kissing her flat stomach. The middle finger of my left hand entered her arse, and I cleaned deep.
She had asked to be washed all over, and now she was.
We stepped out of the bath, walked, hand in hand, dripping wet to the huge shower cubicle. She set the temperature again, and we continued to wash and rinsed each other under cascades of wonderful soft water.
We were having the most erotic wash of our lives when there was a knock at the door.
An hour had slipped by. Dinner was ready.
She did not think twice. A small towel formed a white turban around her head, another huge bath sheet became her dress, and she marched out to open the door.
A trolley was wheeled in, passed a very demure girl dressed only in white towelling. It was an even more complex contraption than the last one at lunch.
The Room Service Butter opened up four leaves to form a large round table covered in a white linen tablecloth. He explained, to my divine friend, the various hot and cold areas, and cupboards that held all the food. He lit three candles in the candelabra at the centre of the table, bid us "bon appetite", and vanished.
For once we ate at a table, and we wore clothes! We dressed in the light hotel housecoats that we had earlier hung on the back of the door.
She kept the turban on, not caring what her hair would be like. She told me that she had an appointment at the hotel hairdresser, while I was at the conference.
It was becoming dark, the window was still wide open, but mists were forming over the water, with magic lights sparkling on distant islands.
