*A repost of an old romance story with a fresh edit.*
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Sam enjoyed the landscape of Sherry’s body, as the shower rained on her pink hills and valleys. His fingers slid from her satisfied clitoris to splash in her belly button pond.
Wrapping his arms just under her breasts, he hugged her, and whispered, “You're beautiful."
In the quiet afterglow, while holding her in his lap, he thought of Jan, and realized three years had passed since making love had been uncomplicated by illness. This week was a resurrection of physical delights. Sherry's transformation from schoolmarm to mistress compounded the pleasure. Sex felt almost virginal.
Aloud he said, "Sherry, if there is anything that you want me to do for you, just tell me."
"Mmm, I've never felt so… satisfied."
Sam heard the hesitancy, and thought she paused because she really wanted to say, "so loved".
"I bet you say that to all your horny old men."
"You're right, Sam, I do." She tipped her head back for a kiss, then turned, straddled his hips, and rubbed the bar of soap until her palms foamed. "Let me wash your pipe cleaner, Mr. Plumber." Blocking the spray with her body, the soapy hands encircled his snake and lathered its expanding length.
"What an excellent apprentice. You show initiative and mechanical aptitude with the tools,” he said, resting his head against the tub, while she familiarized herself with the equipment.
Wearing a frown of deep concentration, she pumped the shaft and tickled his balls. Then released her grip to press the rod against his stomach and used both palms to rub up and down the sudsy underside. Next, the sensitive skin at the base of his glans became the target of her thumb and index finger. Gently, she pinched and twisted the circumcised foreskin.
The disconnected look on her face bothered Sam. This didn’t seem like a touch of affection. It didn't feel like a natural exploration of pleasure, but more like going through predetermined motions. Lifting her chin to make eye contact, he asked, "Is everything all right, Sherry?"
A worried face said, "Why? What's the matter? Did I do something wrong?"
"Wrong? No. You just look so serious. If you're uncomfortable, tell me."
"No, Sam, it's not that. I was just trying to do it the way..." her voice trailed off, leaving the sentence unfinished.
"The way Jan used to?"
She looked away. A blush answered for her.
Desire began to cool. "Let's dry off and go somewhere more comfortable."
Smiling, she took his hand and led him from the tub. "I know just the place."
Sam picked up a blow dryer and cleared the mirror, while Sherry pulled towels from the linen closet. After handing him one, she began to dry.
"What do you think you're doing?" Sam demanded, yanking her towel away. "That's my job." Throwing the towel over her, he sponged her tousled hair, then wrapped it around and dried her back, while her chest rubbed against him.
"Oh, this is a much better idea," she said, and used the other towel to dry his back.
He spun Sherry toward the mirror, and dried her shoulders and arms, before studiously toweling off her breasts. "I like mirrors. Can you tell?"
She smiled at the reflection, and said, "I'm beginning to see their value in a new light," as his cottony hands tended her goose pimpled skin.
Moving in front, he squatted, dried each leg and then commanded, "Spread them a little, please."
"You're so polite, for a plumber."
His fingers fluffed her curly hairs. “Call me, Mr. Good Pipewrench.”
She leaned over him and put her hands on the counter. A stream of air from his lips helped dry the tangled triangle. Sticking his nose in where it wouldn’t be long enough, he inhaled the fresh scent.
"Mmmm, you’re such a tease," she said, toying with the gray hair at his temple.
Sam stood up, and handed her the towel. "Okay, now it's your turn."
Accepting the challenge, Sherry turned him toward the mirror. Too short to see from the back, she stood off to the left and made one long stroke, starting at his shoulder, gliding over his chest, circling the nipple, and ending on his hip. Then, back at the top of the other shoulder, she repeated the motion.
"Who’s the tease now?” he said, trying to ignore the tremble he felt in her touch.
"Tit for tat," She said, and knelt to wipe each vertical leg, while ignoring the stumpy middle one.
He laughed. "I love it when you talk dirty. Tell me what a tat is, so I can trade it for your tit."
Suspending the towel between both hands, Sherry lifted until it supported his cock. She bounced it on the towel trampoline, and then began a seesaw motion to rub the terrycloth against the sensitive underside. "Isn't this a tat?" she asked, with a tremor in her voice. "Mmmm, looks good."
Her nervousness continued to make Sam uneasy. So he helped her up, pulled her tight, and kissed her. Breaking the connection, he said, "You're a funny apprentice. It’ll be great working with you. But I’m beginning to feel like a politician who’s exploiting an intern."
She looked confused, and asked, "Why?"
"You seem torn. Like part of you wants to do this, and part of you doesn’t." He ran his hands down to hold her waist. “It's a huge turn-on. I like replacing your fear with pleasure." He kissed her nose, and then spoke the words he knew might end this delicious moment. "But, is it fair? Am I taking advantage of you?"
She cupped his face in her hands, and said, "I told you, I'm a big girl, and I know what I want. I'm just going to repeat myself until you believe. I want you. I want you. I want you. I want y..."
Sam clamped a hand over her mouth. "All right, I believe you.” Then slipped the hand to her cheek, and asked, “Then why are you trembling?"
The laughing eyes darkened and looked down. She laid her head on his shoulder and traced a fingernail around his nipple. "I'm a little nervous." Absently, the pad of her index finger began a lazy assault on the sensitive tip. "I'm afraid I won't please you. It's been a long time and... I never was very good."
He pushed her chin so that her blues met his browns. "Sounds to me like you've been brainwashed into believing some false propaganda." Looking at her finger on his chest, he said, "Just the way you play sends lightening through me. So don't tell me you're not a good lover."
Bending quickly, Sam put his shoulder against her hips, and then lifted her over his shoulder.
She laughed, and said, "Sam, what are you doing? Put me down."
"No! I’m declaring an intervention." He carried her into the hall. "I'm going to deprogram all that bad-lover foolishness right out of your head." He swatted her bottom with his free hand. "So behave, and it will go easier for you!"
She stopped laughing long enough to drone in a monotone voice, "Yes Master,” then reached down and pinched his ass.
"Oww!" Sam swatted her again, and then soothingly rubbed the spot.
She whimpered, and said, “But it feels good to be bad.”
The bedroom door was already open. Sam strode in and dumped her on the mattress. Placing his hands on his naked hips, he surveyed the room.
Sherry lay there, looking him over.
He maintained a confident exterior, despite apprehension about how his pale physique appeared in broad daylight.
The room was neat and feminine, decorated in floral prints of mauves and greens. A small table next to an overstuffed chair sat by the window; books waited on the floor. There was an antique dresser, appointed with a jewelry box, and a vase filled with fresh cut roses. An air conditioner hummed its cooling breath. The decor, like the woman, had an elegant, uncomplicated beauty.
Aloud, he said. "This room’s perfect for deprogramming."
The rain had stopped, and the sun peeked out. A sunbeam fell across Sherry like a spotlight from heaven. "How long will this take? I have a Bad Lovers cult meeting at the Holiday Inn at three," she said, sitting up to give him the come-and-get-me finger curl.
He slid down beside her. "I predict this will be a long drawn out object lesson." Pushing her flat, he straddled her hips and pinned her wrists above her head. "And here is one of my favorite objects." Without further pretense, his lips gently closed around her left nipple. He wet it like a thread being prepared for the eye of a needle, and then blew on it to make it pointy.
"Mmmm." She arched, and shivered. “Please help me.”
“Begging won’t do any good. Deprogramming the Bad Lover complex always involves torture,” said Sam, as he transferred his lips to the right nipple to repeat the wet and blow procedure. “A sweet torture, sustained over long periods, to ingrain the pattern of positive coital stimulus.”
Sherry stretched under him, pushed against his weight.
“You must do exactly as I say.”
She began to struggle, and said, “I’ll try.”
“You will!” demanded Sam, gripping both her wrists in one hand and tickling her armpit with the other.
Sherry bucked and twisted under him, yelling, “Stop! Get off.”
Her thrashing became near hysterical, and Sam immediately rolled off.
Breathing heavy, she turned away.
Sam gently stroked her hair, and said, “Sherry, I’m so sorry. I won’t ever pin you down again.”
She was shaking.
He kissed her shoulder.
Rolling onto her back, she looked up at him with swimming eyes. “I’m such a mess. Are you sure you want me?”
“Yes, I’m very sure.”
