Still Waters

Finally, at the end of a long day, she gets to rest.

She sits on the couch reflecting upon her day. Anything she forgot? Her daughter is asleep; the pets are taken care of, dishes washed, room picked up, bills paid, and the calendar's up to date. She takes off her shoes thinking about what's in store for tomorrow: errands, errands, and more errands. Damn! She forgot to call her grandmother! The tension in her neck increases another notch, and as if that were the straw that broke the camel's back, her exhaustion sets in full fold.

She stares at her shoes vacantly. A thought in the back of her numbed mind mumbles that she really should put those away. There they lay in the middle of the now clean living room, mocking her, interrupting the clear space that took her three attempts and 4 hours to create. The frustrating part was that she knew she would just have to do it again tomorrow... and the next day, and the next.

Finally, she gives up, leaving the shoes and their irritation behind, and heads for the shower.

She tiredly peels away her clothing, removing the restraints on her body. Standing nude in the bathroom, her weary arm lifts to start the water... then stops.

Thoughtfully she turns and walks back to the living room, not really caring at this point if anyone sees her naked. Searching the mantle, the bookshelves and on table tops, she gathers together as many candles as she can scrounge from around the house.

Back to the bathroom with the armful of candles, she drops them into the sink en masse. Finding a pack of matches, she lights each candle as she places them around the bathroom: on the sink, the back of the toilet, along the side of the tub, even in the windowsill. She feels a little strange as she turns off the light and starts the shower. Then smiles to herself as she realizes she likes the effect.

Stepping in, she watches the steam rise to mingle with the soft candlelight. The wispy clouds glow in golden light and she feels she is surrounded by a magical aura. She closes her eyes and tilts her head back under the streaming water. Sighing to herself, she imagines all of the tiredness and stress in her body being washed away by the nearly-too-hot water. She lets her tension go down the drain and fade away.

Feeling better already, she starts the old ritual: large, soft sponge; soap; left arm first... scrub, scrub, scrubbing away the dirt of the day. Then she stops.

"Why do I always do this the same way?" She thinks to herself.

The sponge drops to the shower floor, and she begins to use her hands, caressing each part of her body. Looking closely for the first time in a long while at her skin and how it feels as her hands lather the soap into bubbles. She works on her legs, looking at the shape of them, noticing the curves and the little imperfections. Rubbing her hips, her stomach and her arms, she tends to her body with a care she hasn't given herself in too long. Rubbing her neck now, she feels different: relaxed, maybe even more awake.

As her hands drop to her breasts, she slows her movements. It's been so long since anyone has touched them in that way. Her thoughts turn to a man, just a friend, she hasn't thought of in a long time. How long has it been since she's made love? Too long.

She lets her mind wander, thinking of a long lost lover, and how good it felt when he kissed her breasts and teased her nipples. Her hands begin to move more sensuously, her nipples hardening under her own touch.

She finds her imagination meandering over to her friend again. She begins to wonder what it would feel like to make love to him. That thought has never really occurred to her before. Surprisingly though, she doesn't find the thought objectionable. In fact, the more she thinks about it, the more this train of thought entices her. She can feel her arousal growing stronger and ever stronger as her imagination begins to stretch its long unused wings and fly.

One hand works at her breast, rolling her nipple between her thumb and forefinger, as her other hand drops down to her stomach, massaging her tummy, then the top of her pubis. She leans back against the now warm tile wall for support. She sighs softly thinking about this man, wondering how he would touch her there. Her finger drops to her clit, touching the soft nub briefly, as if testing the stilled waters of her long undisturbed desires.

Her breath comes more quickly now, as her finger begins to rub against her clit. She thinks about what she would like this man to do to her, and what she wants to do to him. Remembering... remembering what it tasted like to have a man in her mouth again, something she desired so much. A secret she rarely told anyone; letting a man fuck her mouth turned her on more than almost anything anyone could ever to do her.

Her fingers caress her lips as she remembers what it was like to feel that hardness pressed against her mouth. Licking her fingers and moaning as she increases the rhythm on her own clit, she remembers the satisfaction she got from teasing and licking him. How badly she wanted that in her mouth again, to taste that skin, that heat, that salt.

She begins to suck on her fingers now, pushing them harder and harder into her mouth, her hips writhing. She can feel her own wet heat, even in the pouring warmth of the shower. The water streams down her face and across her breasts, the droplets stinging her nipples. She moans uncontrollably... her knees begin to buckle. She sits down on the ledge of the tub now, spreading her legs wide, pushing her fingers deeply inside both of her yearning orifices.

Suddenly without warning, her body tenses, her pussy tightens inexorably around her fingers as she explodes from the inside out. Wave after wave of electric pleasure pulses through her body. She pushes her fingers, almost to the point of choking, to the back of her throat, matching her body's convulsions. She imagines him cumming in her mouth, thinking about what it was like to swallow it down and the excitement it brought her to bring a man to that point.

Slowly, the convulsions turn into tremors, and then into shakes. Her fingers slow, relax and drop away from now swollen mouth and lips. She sits there at the edge of the tub, letting the warm steam embrace her and comfort her shaking body.

With a deep sigh and a little smile, she reflects on her happy mood, her fond memories. The once still waters of her sex drive were now happy waves, lapping at the shores of her inner consciousness.

Before going to bed she adds a little note to her calendar at the top of her To Do list for the next day: "Call Jordan". And she sleeps better that night, better than she has in a long, long time.