Bathing Beauty

Bathing Beauty

juliana-arruda-1119717-unsplash2It snowed yesterday, lover, for the first time this year.

Walking home through the flurries, I contemplated the warmth of a bath and its timeless efficiency at chasing away a chilly day.

The crossing approaching, I looked up and met the eyes of a man. He was rough, wrapped in clothing that fashionistas scoffed at. Under his clothes, I surmised, hid robust musculature, sun-kissed skin and natural strength from years of manual labour. A glance at his shoes confirmed my suspicions.

I smiled at him, imagining what it would be like to have him beneath me, my personal erotic steed ready to be mounted. I mused at the polar opposite nature of your lives. You, the coiffed specimen, groomed by generations of tea parties and social gatherings; so close to perfection. Ivy leaguer extraordinaire whose yearning for adventure had pushed you to embrace me in your adulterous arms. But he seemed free, careless, almost innocent in his demeanour. One whose primary concern was meeting his friends at their favourite pub to watch the next hockey game. He shared the forgetfulness of those who crave nothing more than the present.

Revelling in the simplicity of my bath, I wondered. Would you enjoy knowing I yearned to warm him from the cold? Place his hand in my pocket as we walked, the pressure of my fingers on his revealing my intent.

I’d invite him in, take off his clothes and lead him to the bathroom. Conscious of his own strength, he’d run his calloused hands over my body with the utmost care as I bend over to open the tap. Kneeling, my legs would spread apart as his fingers caressed my clit and he explored me with his tongue. Surprised by his dexterity, my knees would buckle, causing my body to shake as I moaned, gripping the sides of the clawfoot tub. Without warning, he’d be back on his feet, turning me over and lifting me up against the wall with one hand. My thighs dripping, he’d thrust himself into me, a primal urge to ravage me overtaking his every cell.

The sounds of his body merging with mine would bounce off the marble walls, filling the room and echoing through the open window. Passers-by, ripe with desire and renewed lust, would go home to make love, inspired by our concerto. As the frenzied pace accelerates, my hair would free itself from its tight but, falling onto my sweat-covered shoulders. The guttural moans you love would permeate my sighs, he’d grip me harder, groaning in my ear. My back would arch, and my nails would dig into his muscular back as I tighten around him, overwhelmed by the searing temperatures of our bodies. Unable to hold back any longer, he’d explode as we reached our apexes, dying to empty every last bit of his seed into my shaking body.

Without realizing it, the bath had overflown.

© 2018 Lilith Ember All Rights Reserved

🔥👄🍑❤️🌸🔥👄🍑❤️🌸

Thanks for reading! Don’t forget to follow my social accounts. 😘
Instagram
Twitter (where I will indulge you with occasional sexy photos).
Facebook

No Comments
  • November 11, 2018

    Lilith, the time and attention in your words. Lovely

    • November 11, 2018

      Thank you for the prompt and for being the inspiration behind this piece. 😉

  • November 11, 2018

    My goodness you’re amazing

    • November 11, 2018

      Only when everything aligns perfectly with my kinky little soul. 😘

  • November 11, 2018

    Sexy as f*ck!

  • November 29, 2018

    Very HOT (he yells as he runs toward twitter to look for pics)….

  • December 8, 2018

    Très inspirant 😉 …
    And well… Just little hot as well…
    Whoooo !
    Miss G

  • June 7, 2019

    Mmm… what I would give for a bath worthy of overflow…

    Alas a bath, for one, to relax is all I have. Warmth from the water is good but
    Warmth from another…

    …Tis a lonely number.

    Lovely writting lilith!

Leave a Comment:

The contents of this site are copyrighted and cannot be copied.