Water cascaded down my body. I closed my eyes and leaned against the wall. The heat penetrated my muscles.  

I relished the percussion of warmth and gave into the sensations, all the while my brain ping-ponged from the weekend's activities to my goals for the day. 

Meetings, deliverables – my hand on autopilot. I reached for the sponge, the soap.  Back and forth I fed the suds until the rich white froth flowed over, a slow champagne bottle release.

The warm steam rose. The pulse of the hot water almost a match for the constant volley of my thoughts: work, my presentation, the almost insurmountable list of things I needed to get done before…ugh.

I spread the silky froth across my face. Pressing small soapy circles, I moved over my forehead, cheekbone, nose, and chin. I rested my palm against the wall, raised my head and let the water wash over me. Breathing deeply, I let go of my thoughts and enjoyed the heat and constant pressure of the water.

My chest constricted as I felt his hand reach around my waist. My breath accelerated. “I thought—”

“Shh.” His mouth nibbled at my ear.

My body betrayed me with a flash flush. His cock stirred against my ass.

I slipped around. My heart pounded in my chest. The cool marble felt foreign against my back. 

I looked into his eyes-searching, for what, I didn’t know.

“Let me wash away the tension.” His soft words floated in the steamy air. He moved toward me, filling the space.

Anxiety teetering between pleasant anticipation and panic seized me, wrapped around my chest and squeezed. “You can’t keep doing this -slipping in, unannounced.”

His emerald green eyes shimmered. Water poured across his face and matted his dark hair against his brow. “But you get so wet when I do.”

I braced myself against the wall. His hand gently opened me. His fingers smooth as he caressed me, knowing oh so well what made me tick.

Our lips met. His tongue searched and probed-reconciliation a physical thing. His hard body pressed close to mine. His cock strained against my belly. 

I pushed against him. Not this easy.

He held fast. His lips pressed harder.

I reached behind him and smacked. The water stung.

His hands massaged my breasts.

I ducked out of his grasp and pushed his palms against the wall. “Spread ‘em,” I whispered, my fingers stroking the inside of his thighs.

He grunted softly and complied, his body lax as he gave into the wall. 

Pressing him against me, I leaned forward and wrapped both hands around his cock. I sucked and bit into his back. Frustration and anticipation fueled my movement. I yanked on his cock.

He yelped.

My fingers wrapped around his balls.

I squeezed.

I left one hand loosely cupping his cock and stepped back. “You want to know what really makes me wet?” Excitement wound through me as I anticipated the sting.  “You … begging.” I almost spat those last words. My hand released.

His body shifted.

The bathroom seemed to echo the thwack. I pulled back and spanked him again, my body easing into the rhythm of his punishment.

His cock grew with each thrash.

My breasts heaved. The water flowed.

I stopped to admire my handiwork, a bright blossom of red.

I reached for the soap.

He jumped ever so slightly, as I slid the bar over his ass cheeks. His breathing altered.

I circled the soap down further, between the valley of his ass cheeks. I grazed his asshole and sped towards his balls.

He shivered.

“Why, aren’t you a naughty boy?” I thrust the soap back between his legs. I wrapped my other arm around him and pressed my breasts into his back.

His cock quivered. He mumbled, incoherent under the stream of water.

I felt my pussy throb with each tremor I evoked in him. “You want it, don’t you?’ I nudged the soap against his smooth, virgin skin.

He pushed against me.

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. I reached for him and wrapped my fingers through his hair. I tugged his head back and kissed him. Our eyes met, his face full of expectation.

“You have to beg.” I guided him lower, his body putty in my arms. “On your knees.”

Droplets of water glistened on his skin. His cock stood proud, begging for attention. His eyes open, his mouth ready. I urged him toward my pussy. “Lick.”

His warm practiced tongue reached into me. His mouth made love to my pussy, gently stroking and lapping.

I held his head. My thoughts flowed down. I ran my fingers through his hair. His face relaxed, eyes shut. He knelt where he belonged. 

I watched as he nuzzled me, his hands clinging at my thighs, his body prostrated for me. His only responsibility to give me pleasure.

I reached my other hand to my breast. I massaged my nipple, pulled at the ring. The rising frenzy almost enough to overwhelm me. I closed my eyes and replayed his red cheeks, the way his body went rigid as I pushed the soap against his asshole, his submission, his whole body giving into his purpose, to give me pleasure.

My pussy pounded. I pulled tighter on his hair.  “Moan,” I instructed. The rich vibration and visuals of him on his knees started my own symphony. I held him to me, guided his tongue to hit just the right spot.  

“Don’t stop.” I thrust against his face, rocking my body as pleasure swept me up in her insatiable appetite.  “Just like that.”

“Oh, my fuck.” I couldn’t stop, my hips their own tempo. My mind it’s own experience. Waves of waves of pleasure crashed through me, as pictures of him submitting flooded my system.

My hips slowed. Pleasure grew painful.

His eyes stared up at me, searching, begging.

“If you’re good, I reached down, "later." I sealed the deal with a spank and stepped over him and out of the tub. Shivers still penetrated my torso.

It’ll be a long day for him, I thought as I reached for the blow dryer.

Till next time

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Looking for a different type of late morning start?  How About a Ring on It?  Enjoy the sense of switch - read Mistress Charm's New Pupil.  Tired of reading but still need your erotic fix - try audio - you'll never want to give up your hands-free flow.

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