Rub a Dub
Tuesday it was. Always a slog. I needed some to do some serious unwinding. A scalding bath was calling me to plunge my body into the enveloping steam and heat. I announced the fact to Mister that I was going to run the bath. His ears pricked up. Until recently, he had found the idea of a bath rather dull and uninteresting. What is there to do? he says. Very true – the exact point of having a bath is to just have that Nothing to do. A trouble in why I don’t find I have nearly as many baths as my aching muscles would desire is the same fact. I get bored. After about fifteen minutes of likening myself to a prune (even a sensually wiggly prune), unless I have a book with me that I don’t mind getting sodden edges (rare – I adore all my books too much to chance that) or a glass of wine to join me in the steaming, I too get bored.
So you liven it up. What is there to do? he says - Well, me, naturally.
I smile.
He nods.
I wander to the bathroom and run the taps.
Mister has awakened to the advantages of taking a bath with his lady. Namely, getting hot, wet and soapy with a naked LadyP.
Yesterday we had a bath that has been mentally stored as a moment to remember. Now, there are some manoeuvrability issues with being in a bath – it is essentially designed to hold one person. Unless you have a fancy flash bath (lucky devils). As I ran the water I slid in and sank into the hot hot water first. I warned him as he watched me to wait five or so minutes. He’s a tender thing, really; I worry for his pale skin. He will burn easily in the sun, so my thinking ran that he would not relish being poached as I enjoy it.
Oh, the release! I feel buffeted by the water. I can melt away the stress and the day I have left behind me. Ease away the staff politics that lies in my job. Sod them. This is time for me. For us. And he is there. He drifts in and out of the bathroom. Checking on me, each time my face is a little less creased, my arms resting, hovering just above my navel. Tantalisingly close to my pussy. The natural eye-line is drawn to where my arms are being directed. He knows. He sees. The bubbles have disappeared and I am revealed under the surface. My nipples relaxed, rounded after the initial shock of being released from my clothing into the room’s atmosphere. That’s when I know I am in that state of ease – the ‘natural nipples’ look. Of course, all it takes is a light brush for them to perk right up again. Sensitive dears.
By this time, the water is cool enough for him to join me. I have dipped my head under the surface to re-emerge blinking through the water as it drips down my face. Easing off the make-up. Fresh-faced and unmasked. Myself utterly – no clothes, no facades. All there is left is me. I have flipped over and rest on my stomach, my buttocks are gently bobbing above the surface of the bath as my feet entwine behind me. I do this on purpose. Of course. It is what Mister is greeted with as he draws back the shower curtain that is keeping the draft away from the open door. I smile up at him as he dips his toes first, then the rest of him. As he does this I twist around and lay back on the sloped end of the bath. Reclining like this I watch Mister adjust himself around me. Awkward at first, then settling into position. His legs are either side of my body. I slink further down into the water, my own legs parting around his waist. I am thankful we are the size we are. We fit, just.
It’s my turn to watch now as he douses himself. Cupping water up into his hair. Such a straightforward act reeks of manliness and masculinity. It amuses me as he is cupping the water directly in front of my pussy and every once in a while he sneaks a hand underneath to reach in and stroke along my tender skin – just under my buttocks, on the underside of my upper thigh. Feather touches that become stronger as he feels a lack of resistance from me. Why would I want to resist? I am exactly where I want to be.
I move in close to him now and place my dripping arms around his shoulders – the warm water greeting his back for the first time. We kiss. Our wet mouths tasting one another, tasting the bubbles that linger also. The kiss is fluid, gentle and light. It is followed immediately by a second, stronger embrace, his hands seeking out my own body as mine rove over his skin. I flick my nail up over his nipple and then trail it down the side of his torso – one of my favourite moves. Simple. Effective.
We shift. I see that it is now time for him to enjoy leaning back. The tricky business of moving around the bath done, I settle into mischief. We discuss, we prattle. He tells me of a fantasy he wishes me to enact as part of the payback for a terrible thing I did at the weekend (I fell asleep on him again after too much of the red – I will abstain from now on, avoid the dreaded red and the shame and embarrassment it brings to me). I tell him of where I want the evening to go. I think it’s time you tied me up I say and his eyes glisten once more. I see him bobbing in the water this time. Our conversation has had the desired effect – I’m such a schemer – and I take his cock in my hands. The water making my movements smooth and unfaltered. I have positioned myself so I am straddling him, kneeling above him, legs either side.
Like this I can easily bend down and take him in my mouth. And of course, I do. Teasingly, quickly, lightly I kiss the head of his cock, lick my way around the rim and flick over the top. My eyes have grown playful and they stare into his with need and it is reflected right back at me. His noises spur me on, I feel myself getting aroused too and my other hand moves over my breasts, nipples, down to my inner thighs, knowing his glance is upon me - not quite touching myself, however – I want to save that pleasure for him. So I restrain myself, for now. I gather pace and rhythm and sensing no hesitations from Mister, I go all out for him. The sudden jolts; his hand tightening its grip in my hair; the gasps he makes: everything he is doing makes my own enjoyment build. The final shuddering spasms and I feel him hit the back of my throat, I hold him there in my mouth, lightly bringing down my pace. And then, there it is – he can’t take the sensation any longer and he pushes me away – that’s the sign I crave. I drive him over the edge and he can’t take it any more.
We smile at one another, knowing that the night is going to get a lot more interesting. The ties came out. I was shackled to the bedframe. He drove me to my edge – only I couldn’t push him away due to the cuffs. He made me writhe and twist and scream. His spankings made me jolt and gasp, just stronger and louder. It’s funny how we mirror one another. He fucked me from behind, still tied up, I grasped at the bonds and lost count of how many times I came. It was heavenly.
Divinely devilish and a fun way to end a Tuesday.
