“Yeah. Get the picture?”
Still standing, she gives me an emphatic nod.
“Good.” She’s still wearing my shirt and I take the iPod from the breast pocket and place it by the sink. “Water and iPods—not a clever combination.” I grab the hem and pull it off her. Immediately she hangs her head when I step back to admire her.
“Hey.” My voice is gentle and encourages her to peek up at me. “Anastasia, you’re a very beautiful woman, the whole package. Don’t hang your head like you’re ashamed. You have nothing to be ashamed of, and it’s a real joy to stand here and look at you.” Holding her chin, I tip her head back.
Don’t hide from me, baby.
“You can sit down now.”
She sits down with indecent haste and winces as her sore body hits the water.
She screws her eyes shut as she lies back, but when she opens them, she looks more relaxed. “Why don’t you join me?” she asks with a coy smile.
“I think I will. Move forward.” Stripping, I climb in behind her, pull her to my chest, and place my legs around hers, my feet over her ankles, and then I pull her legs apart.
She wriggles against me, but I ignore her motion and bury my nose in her hair. “You smell so good, Anastasia,” I whisper.
She settles and I grab the body wash from the shelf beside us. Squeezing some into my hand, I work the soap into a lather and start massaging her neck and shoulders. She moans as her head lolls to one side under my tender ministration.
“You like that?” I ask.
“Hmm,” she hums in contentment.
I wash her arms and her underarms, then reach my first goal: her breasts.
Lord, the feel of her.
She has perfect breasts. I knead and tease them. She groans and flexes her hips and her breathing accelerates. She’s aroused. My body responds in kind, growing beneath her.
My hands skim over her torso and her belly toward my second goal. Before I reach her pubic hair I stop and grab a washcloth. Squirting some soap onto the cloth, I begin the slow process of washing between her legs. Gentle, slow but sure, rubbing, washing, cleaning, stimulating. She starts to pant and her hips move in synchronization with my hand. Her head resting against my shoulder, her eyes closed, her mouth open in a silent moan as she surrenders to my relentless fingers.
“Feel it, baby.” I run my teeth along her earlobe. “Feel it for me.”
“Oh, please,” she whines, and she tries to straighten her legs, but I have them pinioned under mine.
Now that she’s all worked up into a lather I’m ready to proceed.
“I think you’re clean enough now,” I announce, and take my hands off of her.
“Why are you stopping?” she protests, her eyes fluttering open, revealing frustration and disappointment.
“Because I have other plans for you, Anastasia.”
She’s panting and, if I’m not mistaken, pouting.
“Turn around. I need washing, too.”
She does, her face rosy, her eyes bright, pupils large.
Lifting my hips, I grab my cock. “I want you to become well acquainted, on first-name terms, if you will, with my favorite and most cherished part of my body. I’m very attached to this.”
Her mouth drops open as she looks from my penis to my face…and back again. I can’t help my wicked grin. Her face is a picture of maidenly outrage.