bubbles and candles and fingers.. oh my!

You’ve wanted me all night long. But still I make you wait.

Finally, I call you into my bathroom. You find me in the flickering candlelight, waiting for you in the bathtub naked under a sea of foam.

You smile a bit at the corniness of the set-up, but I am bubbling inside, dying to see how we can give this our own spin.

You begin to strip out of your clothes. I stop you just as you make to join me in the water, ask for you to step back and wait.

You’ve wanted me all night.

I’ve wanted too, but I’ll wait.

You wait with a twisted smile, your bare back resting against the porcelain of my sink, mirror behind you, me in front.

I rise up out of the water with a little splash, water cascading rapidly down me, watching my image behind you in the mirror. The soft light rounds my curves, there is wet glistening in drops all over me, persisting bubbles nestled in the chalices of my body, whispering goodbye with little pops.

I stand before you, almost defiant, my shoulders back, begging to be taken in.

Then I rest back against my shower wall, facing you but leaning away, your lean naked body tilting away from me too, our bodies in a triangle pointing to our feet.

I watch the shifting sinews in your neck; eat up the hunger in your eyes, the hunger that must be in mine. In the tense quiet, I swear I hear the hint of a groan under your breath.

We’ve wanted for so long.

I move away from the wall finally, reach over to the candles waiting on the side of the tub.

I grip the metal base of the slender candlesticks, a candle long in each hand.

And start to move. Awkward at first but gathering grace, the candles slowly start to dance in my hands, the closeness of the light highlighting areas of my body. You catch flashes of hard nipple, luminous stretches of wet stomach, protruding hip swaying faintly left and right. Hot candles cross over at my breasts. Melting wax dribbles onto me in little bursts of exhilarating pain. Extended shadows do their ballet across the glow of my skin. My hand slides the two candlesticks as far as I can parallel down each leg, darkness tracing my arms, playing with my neck.

I know the image I am painting for you, know because I can make me out in the mirror, but also because I can feel it in my head, see it in your stare.

Are you thinking of how this must feel for me? Can you imagine the heat of the flames licking so close to my nerve endings, the contrast with the ice of the metal base that I touch to my skin?

I had meant to tease you, but I begin to lose myself in my own tease, smoldering in my own lonely dance, aching for more.

Your presence here, watching me, teases me most of all.

Echoing in the confined space, my quiet breathing begins to amplify into unwilling little gasps.

You have moved sideways now, resting against the bathroom door, listening to me. If you look quickly left and right you can almost catch my reflection and I, a double vision, moving together in harmony, only the candlelight more diffuse in the mirror.

I watch you too; you are a wonder to behold, your eyes closing from time to time, your broad chest expanding as your lungs fight for breath, your hand occasionally reaching down to the excitement of your growth.

I try to take it all in but it is too much; my head lolls back from you as I begin to gradually slip away.

My candlesticks painstakingly will themselves downwards, start searching out what I really want.

I sigh.

You moan.

Time is ready now; the moment is intolerable now for the both of us.

We’ve wanted this all night and we can’t wait anymore.

You step into my tub without a word, face grim with purpose, feet in the now lukewarm water of the bath.

I back up against the wall, excited by your approach, wanting this so bad, but loath to end the insufferable tension of this moment, loath to hand over my control.

You stand so close to me. I have put down one candle, but the other candle is still in my hand, the one candle I still cannot give up. Only a candle width between us now, I move my hand with painful slowness, so close I am afraid of burning us, so close the wax mingles between us, is joined by your hand, our hands on the candle moving, now on your leg, now on mine, now on my neck, now on your chest, now finally only in your hands, now down on your knees, now only the metal touching above my knees, between my legs, the flame tantalizing on my stomach.

You rest the edge of the stiff metal gently between my lips. I part my legs slightly for you, anticipating your next move, a brief whimper escaping from my mouth. You take your time, staying still, watching my trembling body strain against the silver.

So cold against me. It makes me yearn for your warmth, but I am pinned by your deliberation, unable to move. You blow the candle out and remove it from the holder, throwing it aside. Now gripping only the candlestick, you control its round end, sliding it up and down my damp lips, just short of inside me.

Oh to finally feel that motion, it triggers an instant moan as I feel my center begin to melt. I push down against you at once, angling my hips, but you pull back with a smile, holding the stick still, this time gliding your fingers lightly from my ass towards the base of my fleshy lips, and then upwards towards my desire.

Oh and now finally on my clit, tenderly flicking my clit with your finger, flicking, then circling. Sliding, flicking, then circling. And before I can even absorb that, before I can even grasp that, the sudden push of your hand so that the candlestick is in me; how I capture it ready and wet, don’t want it to leave. Oh and your fingers on me still. And the metal beginning to move in and out. And oh your mouth, oh wet kisses on my stomach, oh wet metal dark inside, oh dark metal wetly out, and oh oh oh fingers tickling my sticky spot.

My cries leave me weak, I begin my slump, my descent down the wall, unable to hold myself up for much longer.

You growl suddenly, your desire thrown tangible from your throat. You grab me and prop me down on the end of the tub so I can sit with my back against the wall. The thrill of your swift motion, the determined intent of your muscles, courses through me, abandoning me to further weakness.

You dislodge the plug, and soapy water begins to drain, allowing you to perch lower below me, closer to my swollen clit and unfolding hole. I push myself out towards you, arms extended back, hands flatly gripping the wall behind.

The gurgling sound of water draining is no competition for my growing screams, because candlesticks have been forgotten, splatters of solidified wax lie forgotten on our bodies, there is only your fingers and oh they have finally thrust into me, finally entered, finally to find you here; and you know, know that it is not enough, know that you must go deeper, and then slower, and then faster, know that you must stop and begin again; and then know that you must not stop, must never ever ever stop.

And you do not, oh you do not, and my sodden wet insides clamp onto your fingers, my hands on the part of your hands playing outside, wanting to feel it with you, and oh how you know where to travel, because even as I feel I cannot take anymore, grooves in me continue to transform into hot liquid for you, dribbling down, my cum collecting in the webs between your fingers.

And then finally I cannot even scream anymore, my mouth open, trying to breathe, my eyes screwed shut, my head thrown back, you know to move as fast as you can, and you do, do, do, faster, faster, then even faster still, and then one last deep, and yes………

I come with one massive shudder all over your hands.


Then, before I can recover, my body still shaking and shuddering, you lift me up into your arms and step out of the tub. In a daze, my mind races with thoughts of my lingering orgasm, thoughts of your hardness, of your still pulsating want waiting below me, thinking of what is yet to come, and I smile to myself, as you carry me into my bedroom.

(...continued in 'in my bedroom')