Saturday morning I am always a slow moving vixen, but this Saturday–I was exceptionally slow, and in an extremely nostalgic state. The rain, the wind and the dark sky were not motivating me to get ready for my work day at the library.
I read some blogs, answered emails, posted, but my mind kept drifting back and forth to the day before. My afternoon company–it was kind, frisky, lingering, unhurried, and it felt right, even if perhaps it wasn’t.
I decided to take a hot bath, because I had yet to wash since yesterday afternoon. There is something about keeping the smell of man with me, after he has been all over me, in me, with me. For the rest of Friday night and Saturday morning every time I shifted I could smell you on my body. Remaining. It kept me in that nostalgic frame of mind– and now it was time to move on.
I ran the bath and filled it with bubbles, making sure to set the water for super hot, because it has not been getting quite as hot as normal. I stepped out of the room and let the water fill, gathered my coffee and library book; The Best of Best: American Erotica 2008, and set them on the edge of the tub. Stripping down and stepping into the bath, I was surprised to feel the hot water was back in full force. It was so hot, my skin turned instantly pink as I sunk into the bubbles. I began to sweat immediately. It felt so good soaking, listing to the rain and thinking about how you fucked me, how you bent me over the couch and plunged deeply into me, how your curve dripped with your pre-cum and my juice when you pulled out because you feared cumming too soon. Thoughts, of how your dick tasted with that mixed solution of you and me dripping from the tip, lingered in my steamed out mind.
I picked up my book and continued on a story I had already started, Fleshlight. This is the kind of story I would typically skip, because it started out rather slow and the author was a bit self-absorbed (maybe all sex writers are), but I got hooked and eventually he made laugh out loud with his style. The story is on of a basic masturbation with a sexual aid, hence the title Fleshlight.
As I got deeper into the story I noticed my hand was gently stroking my pussy, parting my lips pulling the hot water up to it, splashing it with heat. The story was becoming more intriguing to me as the author explored, from a male point of view, on masturbation. Simultaneously my mind was churning, thinking about my own reflections on feeling myself. He detailed the thought process of looking at a porn rag and how his cock reacts to this. Imagining what the “virgin girl on page 19, washing her truck” would say to him, “undo your belt sweetie, are you getting a hard-on thumper? Stroke it for me.” He recalls his yoga teachers warning “Be aware of your pud throbbing in its methodical yearning way,” as his “yoga breath turns to a pant.”
I notice my own throb beginning and my stroke becomes heavier, sweat dripping onto the pages below. My breath becomes more heavy than a pant, as I slosh more hot water onto my cunt, grabbing it whole in my palm, like a piece of fruit being rinsed under water.
I go back to the story the author has now turned the page to a layout of a voluptuous Brazilian woman, that he describes as being soft and plump, like a “rotisserie chicken.” I chuckle and am turned on at the same time, because I am kind of like a “rotisserie chicken.” I rub my pussy harder. He compares the fleshlight toy to what it would be like to get a blow job from the Brazilian chicken. I continue splashing the hot water onto me and rubbing my full lips, not rough or hard or soft or gentle, just there running my fingers on the inside and outside taking pleasure in the sensation of hot water hitting my clit.
The writer goes on fucking his fleshlight, “pounding the squish out of the thing till it’s bouncing of [his] nuts” and though he liked the Brazilian, he switched back, to the page 19 virgin hottie, to cum to. He describe that momentary loss of mind prior to the explosion of cum and then the cold feeling when it’s over with his dick still jammed into the apparatus. That urge he has to be held by another, while still gazing at the “frozen” trapped in time smile of the page 19 virgin cutie, staring up at him. Cold.
I set the book aside and begin to drift into my own memories of the day before. The rain, the way the light shifted continually form dark to light and then to dark again. Our time fragmented through shards of light. I thought about the way your curve filled me. My memory flashed to me lying on the floor while you watched. At your request I still had my black leather boots on and nothing else. We hovered around each others bodies in the fading daylight, you spent, sitting slightly between my legs as I began to rub and fuck myself. Old 40s music coming from the speakers as I plunged, explored and rubbed, glancing up to watch you, watching me. I began to moan and you encouraged it, your hands stroked my breasts.
The heat of the water and my increased inflection on my cunt was making my body catch fire; I am sweating in my tub of hot water. I am fucking myself, thinking about fucking myself while you watched. The sounds of the water splashing around increases and amplifies, sweat dripping from every area of skin not emerged into the water. I slid my other hand down, two fingers in and began the push and pull of the full flesh that lives inside my pussy, pressing the spot as I recede out and quickly thrust back in. I become aware of my own “yoga breath” turning to pant. Scooping up more of the hot water on to my clit, handling, maneuvering it, as it popped out more with each stroke. I push further into myself, thrusting on to my fingers.
When I was about to come, you grasp harder on to my breasts and tell me how hot this is, and to cum for you. My mind drifts into my flowing out of stammering sex lexis, “ohhhh oh I’m gonna cum, fuck! I’m gonna cum…I’m gonna cum for you” the moans and the pants released without any control or hesitation, your hands firmly squeezing. My ass lifting of the floor, your hands all over me; I buck harder, my fingers now fully crammed into my pussy, moaning for release. Your verbal stimulation induces and entices, I cum with a last whimpering groan pushed out, filling the air, before my ass slowly drops back to the floor, fingers still in–feel a soaking surrounding them.
Water sounds fill my head as my ear lobes drift below the water line, my fingers relentlessly plummeting my own cunt as the same moans, from yesterday, echo in that underwater sound. My ass and pussy are grinding on to my hand while my other is feverishly flicking hot water on my clit. I cum hard, with deep guttural sigh; like my own, but not. Sweat ferociously and then I cave into my hot bath, feeling the cream of my cum mixed with the water of my bath, wishing you were here to watch.
originally published on 2/16/09
