The door closed with a snap. Surprised, I turned and saw you there, beautiful as always, except this time you were soaked from head to toe. The water drops falling from your dress and the house’s eaves were punctuated by a violent sneeze from you. Placing the pot on the stove, I guessed you’d left your umbrella at work. January rains are absolutely terrible, and this one seemed to have drenched you to the bone.
“This sucks,” you whispered as another sneeze exploded from your nose.
“Come here, my heart,” I began, “let’s get you out of those clothes.”
Taking off your coat and dress, I pointed you to the bathroom and started running you a hot bath. You sat on the toilet and blew your nose while the bath oils plunged into the gushing water. Unclasping your bra, your breasts sprang free, and they seemed to sigh with relief. The tub was now full, and the sparkling bubbles gleamed in the light of the candles I’d lit for you. When I turned back to you, you were sitting there, hands between your knees, and you looked up at me with a sad gaze.
“I suppose you’re getting the short end of the stick, huh?”
Taking your hand, I stood you up, slid your black stockings and panties down, and helped you step into the crackling bubbles.
You moaned as you slipped under the waves and let the warm liquid caress your sore muscles. Seeing you safe and relaxing, I kissed your forehead and headed to the kitchen to make you a cup of hot chocolate. On the way, I stopped and turned on the stereo, and after selecting a jazz CD, I started the music. The soft hiss of a saxophone emerged from the speakers and began to fill the rooms with a relaxing melody.
Branford Marsalis… “Perfect,” I thought. “Everything tonight must be done to help you feel better.”
Once the hot chocolate was steaming, I placed a dash of Godiva chocolate liqueur in the cup and brought it to you. Entering the bathroom, you glanced at me and smiled for the first time tonight. “Thanks; you always know how to save the day.”
At that moment, I leaned down and kissed you, then placed the cup in your hands. You brought the cup to your lips and sipped the drink. Setting it back down, it left a brown mark on your lip, and I smiled seeing you.
“I think I’m done, my heart,” you said, starting to get out of the water. Color had begun to return to your skin, taking on the healthy hue of a pale rose. Not wanting you to catch a draft, I wrapped my heavy cotton robe around your shoulders. I laughed at the rebellious bath bubbles that had clung to your breasts and, after hanging for a moment, fell onto the rug. Pulling the robe around you, we walked to the living room, and I sat you in front of the crackling fire.
Sitting behind you, I began to massage your shoulders. This drew a soft moan from you, almost like a contented kitten. My fingers kneaded your flesh under the robe as the fire cast a warm glow on your perfect skin. You turned your head, kissed my cheek, and asked for one of my massages. Never being able to refuse you anything—especially when I loved it myself—I placed a cushion on the rug by the fireplace and laid you on your stomach.
The stereo’s saxophone reached a high note as I slid the robe off your shoulders and rested it on your wonderfully curved buttocks. I rubbed my palms together both for effect and to reduce the risk of them being too cold for your warm skin. “Just about right, I think,” I said, and lowered them to your waiting neck. Your skin welcomed my fingers and greeted them with its own soft warmth. My fingers sank into the muscles of your neck, diving deep to find the knotted flesh.
Slowly, my fingers spread around the back of your neck and under both your ears, gently rubbing, working your skin, tracing small circles with each finger in place. Moaning with pleasure, you raised your arms and rested your head on them, propping it and opening your sides. I caught the signal and lowered my hands to your shoulder blades, feeling the contrast of bone and firm, soft flesh at my fingertips, then began to work the muscles of your back, feeling all the knots that had formed there gently undoing.
Placing my thumbs on either side of your spine and fanning my fingers toward your sides, I kneaded the flesh there. Feeling your skin made me sigh too. I’d never seen such perfect skin—so supple, so willing to fold back and caress my fingers in return for their sustained efforts. Lower now, I moved to your lower back and the top of your buttocks. It’s a particularly beautiful area of your body, and I lowered my lips and placed a kiss on the top of your buttocks. You made an approving sound in return, and I gave you a playful pat at the peak of your butt crack, which drew a Mmmmm from you.
I grabbed a handful of ass in each palm and began to knead. You have such lovely buttocks that I devoted extra time to their well-being and let my valiant fingers turn and turn. Soon, the unexpected happened. I noticed that wonderful, familiar musky scent that signals your ardor. Spreading your legs slightly, I saw that moisture was indeed flowing from your folds. Your legs spread wider, and you whispered: “Lower, my dear; I need you.”
Not wanting to deny you anything that might restore you, my fingers slipped between your legs and began to tickle you where your outer lips met your inner thighs. This made your legs snap shut quickly, trapping my hand against your wet pussy. “Ahhh,” you whispered as my captured hand made the most of its captivity and rubbed along your soft folds. With a moan, your legs opened again, and I placed a finger between your lips. Feeling your moisture and heat, I slid my finger to the hidden pearl of your clitoris then came back up to tickle your anus once more.
“Take me, please,” you growled. “I need you now.”
Not being one to refuse a wish to my lover, I opened my robe, and your hand reached back and gave my cock a stroke. “Ooohh yes, I want it.”
Still lying on your stomach, you spread wide, and I moved closer. My sex parted your lips, and I slid it up and down in your wet heat, feeling the nectar of your insides welcome my cock. When I thought I was lubricated enough, I pushed slowly into your pussy.
Having no patience for that, you quickly raised your buttocks, and I was engulfed by you in an instant.
“Aaaaaahh,” we both sighed instantly; to this day, I swear I’ve never felt anything like it. There has never been a pussy that felt like yours—as if we were made for each other, two puzzle pieces fitting perfectly. You quickly brought your hips back to the rug then again toward me. You were determined to create as much heat as possible, wanting that quick orgasm. Catching the signal, I grabbed your hips and pulled you toward me.
The faster we moved, feeling the heat rise, the pressure climb. Your buttocks met my thighs, my balls swinging to the tempo of our thrusts. Soon I felt the contractions I knew too well inside you. Moving my hips faster, I tried to keep up with your pace, wanting to come and cum with you. Our rhythm was reaching a climax, and in a moment, I felt you pause slightly, and your internal muscles contracted, holding me.
At that moment, my body contracted too, and a spurt of my hot seed erupted in you. Uuuungnnngggggggg, we both sighed, our muscles jerking and our hips continuing to make rotating motions, milking the last of the sensation from each other.
I lowered you slowly back to the rug, being careful not to detach from you. Then, as you rolled onto your side, you pulled me toward you, and we embraced, then kissed. As we settled, I pulled the crumpled robes over our bodies, and we lay there, feeling the fire cook our after-pleasure.
“Maybe we can both call in sick tomorrow,” I said.
You just smiled and kissed me again as we drifted off to the crackle of the fire and the soft jazz playing a serenade for us.