It had been a miserable flight, the have a bun in the oven end to a long, difficult trip. Nothing quite made Sophie detest her soundbox so much as flying. She felt fat and old and utter. She was slightly uneasy and her foreland throbbed with drying up from the recycled air. Her knees and berm ached from trying to entertain herself pocket-size, cramped into that dreaded tiny buttocks. She stumbled off the plane, and made her way to the restroom. She 'd been holding it for a farseeing time, not wanting to use the disgusting bantam john on the aeroplane ; the relief of a good piss went some way to improving her mood. She turned on her telephone, and sent a quick school text. `` Landed. On to baggage and customs. Outside in 30. logic gate D. ''

She trudged to baggage pickup, every joint in her body ached ; her back screamed ailment at her as she lifted her heavily bag off the conveyor belt. The line for customs duty was shorter than expected, and she made it to the door earlier than she had said. The frigid air slammed her like a physical assault. And yet, she almost welcomed the brittle low temperature ; the airport was unaired and hot, and she 'd been wearing her coating over a sweater for the hold out half 60 minutes. She looked around, and saw her car, the electric yellow paint stood out in a sea of grey and black. And there was Stanley, opening the tree trunk for her bags. She shrugged her bag off her shoulders and into the car, and then embraced him. He was beneficial man, and she had missed him, even if his headphone sex game had left something to be desired. He was sweet, and she decided she ought to make love to him tonight, although, honestly, she wanted nothing more than a hot bath and an early night.

It was more than an hour home, across Town at surge time of day, and she listened to him talk about the problems he was having at workplace, something about a new supervisor. She must give birth dozed off at some point, because the next thing she knew, they were pulling up in front of her house. Stanley carried her bags inside, and they kissed in the kitchen for a few minutes ; a proper `` welcome home '' the low temperature had denied them at the airport. `` Do you require dinner ? '' he asked her. `` No. I still feel gross from the sheet. I 'm going to go take a bath. You eat, though. ``

She went upstairs, and set the water running, to fill the enormous bath. This bath had been what convinced her to buy this sign ; the walls were golden tan, and the trading floor terracotta tile that wrapped around an enormous jacuzzi. The whole thing had the feeling of a roman letters Bath ; sultry and indulgent. She poured rose scented soap into the water ; it frothed into a quite a little of bubble. As the tub filled, she began to uncase, letting the cares of the day omit away with her dress. She shook out her hair, long, red, and curly. It was her darling feature. When she was a daughter, she had longed for the straight blond hair her Friend had, but now, she loved her head of hair ; it made her feel sexy and powerful, and witching, like an enchantress or a mermaid. She laughed a little at herself, `` Like a mermaid ? What nonsense ! ``

She caught herself laughing in the mirror, and she began to determine herself undress, as if watching a stranger. Her pelt was pale, almost egg white, and spangled all over with small browned lentigo that trailed up her arms, across her shoulders and over her knocker. Her breasts were prominent and threatening, with lowly pink nipples. She put her hands to her breasts, cupping their weight unit, feeling her nipples harden against her medal, and smiled. Sir Henry Morton Stanley loved her knocker. They were the only persona of her torso he ever complimented, and she loved the way his voice sounded, husky and strained, when he talked like that, so she let him use them the way he liked. She winced, thinking about the way he pinched her nipples, hard enough to turn them whiteness, and they way he pawed at her breasts like a desperate schoolboy. Sometimes, bruises formed on them the next day, purple fingerprints like leopard spots. She slid her hands down over her soft belly, and across her wide-eyed coxa, loving the line of her red nails against her blanch hide.

She stepped into the tub, the hot water caressing her human foot like a kiss as she broke the surface of the H2O. She got in slowly, reveling in the way the water embraced her. Slowly slowly she lowered herself into the high temperature, feeling the bubbles on her legs like a million tiny knife. She sat down, shuddering with a tingle of turmoil as the estrus enveloped her ass and her pussy. She turned on the green, and leaned back, letting the water supply massage her. In the airport, there had been an ad for Jamaica Air ; the sun setting over the carribean, with the phrase `` stress ca n't swim. '' emblazoned above it. Cheesy as it was, that was how she felt now, the abominable aching in her articulatio sinking to the bottom of the tub, while the house of cards and jet licked at her peel, and pounded her aching muscular tissue. She rubbed the loofah over her arms and back, its disorderliness scratching in all the right ways. Her hands went to her breasts again, rolling her nipples gently in her fingers, softly massaging and lifting them. She cupped them in her hands, the flabby skin on their underside slick magazine with the soapy piss. She loved the weight of them in her hands, loved the way it felt to be touched there, gently but firmly. She let them go, and ran her slippery hands over her belly, tracing circles around her navel point.

She arched her back, letting the water support her weight. She slid her hands behind her, caressing her spinal column, pushing her fists into the modest of it, massaging away the nautical mile. Her men slid low-down, almost of their own accord, sliding across her large round ass. She loved having her ass touched, even spanked, and she loved the auditory sensation it made when Stanly smacked them, the sting on her skin, and the warmth that radiated out. It did n't hurt ; her ass was well padded after all, but she let him think it did. She loved too the tactual sensation of his hard erection against her ass cleft, loved to constrict herself back against him. She wished often that he would put it in, but he never did. She slid back, letting the jacuzzi jet do what Stanley would not, feeling the water lb against her ass, and her handwriting slither to her pussy. She trailed her fingers through the hair, tracing the trilateral of her mounds border, sliding her hands between second joint and mound, between belly and mound, loving the feel of finger where no one else would touch her.

She did n't call up Stanly despised her fat belly. She had seen his browser history, and knew he preferred his women `` thick ''. But neither did he seem excited by it. He never touched her here, on her diffused underbelly, this confidant and hated piece that cried out for love. She had long ago made peace with her fat, and she loved the tactual sensation of her belly, soft and jiggly, slippery and wet in the bathing tub. When she was a little female child, she 'd had a book of Greek myths, that showed Gaea, immersed in the oceans, her genu poking through the water to make the islands. She had loved that image, and often imagined herself to be the Great Goddess when she bathed. She had first discovered her body during those imaginary number plot, and as she caressed her fat belly and her thunder thighs, she felt, once again, the king of the goddess roll through her, awakening and enlivening her.

She slid her hands down, cupping her cumulation, the slight press exciting her. She began to shake against her helping hand, feeling the pressing of her whole palm tree pressing down on her clit, muffled by her own crimp and mouth. She pushed hard, and slid a finger's breadth up her slit, her silky succus mingling with the soapy water. She wished Stanley was here. She wanted to palpate his strong bridge player on her, wanted to feel the solidity of his body against hers. But, she knew, she 'd never have the courage to tell him what she wanted ; her spokesperson disappeared when they made honey. She 'd tried to utter to him about it at early times, but he did n't like to talk about sex. She heard him coming up the step. `` This time '', she thought. `` Tonight, I 'm going to withdraw mission. ``

Stanley knocked on the door. `` Enter. '' she said, loving the way the news felt in her mouth. Not `` semen in '', but `` Enter ''. A instruction, not an entreat. Stanley pushed open the door backwards. He was carrying a tray, which, given her exhibit state of mind `` I know you said you did n't want to eat, but I brought you some juice, and a pot chocolate. I thought it might help your back to ache LE. '' Her essence welled up. It was as if he 'd take her mind. She opened her oral fissure to thank him, to praise him for being so thoughtful, but stopped herself. If she was going to take away charge, she could n't start out by fawning all over him. `` Be cool, '' she thought, `` just be cool down. Be a goddess. Goddesses expect to be treated this way. ``

'' Thank you. Go and bring in my bathrobe. '' She raised her voice slightly at the end, but it was n't a question. `` Fetch '' was not a word you used in a request. It was a word you used with servents. With a pet. It was a Good Book of dictation. Stanley seemed not to notice, and went off to the bedroom. She stepped out of the bathtub, and ate the chocolate. The chocolate was creamy and pleasant-tasting, but she could try the vegetal marijuana behind it, dank and sticky, like the cunt of the globe mother. She laughed at herself. `` You 're not even high yet ! '' She sipped the pomegranate tree juice, stale and sweetly tart. `` wine, '' she thought. `` In the lifetime-after-dark porn she was scripting, this should have been wine-coloured. '' She shook her capitulum. `` Fuck it, tho. I do n't wish wine. And tonight, I 'm getting what I want. ''

Stanley returned with her bathrobe. `` Hang it up, and dry me with that towel. '' John Rowlands raised an eyebrow, but he hung the robe on its crotchet, and enveloped her with the fluffy white towel. `` You 're in the quite the temper, '' he said. She knew she would chicken out if he questioned her. She turned around in his arms, and raised a fingerbreadth to his back talk. `` Shush. No talking. '' He shrugged, and smiled, and continued drying her off. He knelt, drying her ramification one at a time, and her heart musical rhythm fast. `` This is really happening. Stanley is kneeling at my feet. '' She opened her legs a piffling, and he dried the interior of her legs, but did n't hire the intimation. He stood back up, and dropped the towel in the shackle. Without being told, he took her robe, and held it open for her. Was it possible he was into this too ?

She took his manus, and led him to the bedroom. She was starting to panic. She had n't thought this through. She did n't be intimate what to differentiate him. She needed to procrastinate. She sat on the bound of the bed. `` Get undressed. '' she said. He began to pull his shirt off. `` Slowly. '' she said, suppressing a giggle. Once again, he raised an brow questioningly at her, but he did n't complain. He pulled off his shirt slowly. He slowly unbuckled his belt. He pulled it free of the loop-the-loop, making a live up to swish dissonance. He unbuttoned his jeans, and stepped out of them. He stood there in his boxers and socks. `` Those too, '' she said. `` I want you naked. '' He kicked off his drogue, and pulled down his boxers, and then he started to derive toward her. `` No. Stay there. '' This was really the test, she thought. Would he hold back there, or would he object.

Stanley waited. He shuffled uncomfortably from foot to infantry, looking embarrassed. He was hard, though. As tough as she 'd seen him in a long meter. He reached his hand to his pecker. `` No. No touching yet. separate me what you want. '' She wanted to hear him distinguish her how much he wanted her. She wanted to try him spill dirty. In her heart of hearts, she wanted to hear him beg to fuck her. ``

He shuffled, and did n't say anything. Finally he said `` I just want to control you. '' She felt her heart drop, and she had to keep herself from crying. `` Good old Sir Henry Morton Stanley, '' she thought. `` He 's trying. He 's not a perv like me, but he 's trying. '' He must bear seen her chopfallen spirit, because he tried again. `` I want to make love to you. '' but it sounded like a head. She scoured her intellect. `` He 's trying. Just hold open going. '' she thought. `` The correct answer is'I want to please you .'Let 's try again. ''

'' Tell me what you want. ``

'' I want to please you. ``

'' Good boy. ''

She did n't recognize why she 'd said it. It had just slipped out, but Stanley had a stupid grin on his face, and a blush was creeping over his nerve. `` How can I please you, Sophie ? '' he said, quietly. `` Tell me what to do. ``

Ack ! She had n't really thought this far in advance. She did n't know what she was supposed to say adjacent. Stanley seemed to read her mind again. `` Not what you think I want to hear. Tell me what you want. I really do desire to please you. '' and he knelt at the fundament of the bed, and began to rub her feet. She laid back, and thought. What did she want him to do ? She 'd honestly never really thought about it. She enjoyed sex. She enjoyed it a lot. In her youth, she 'd had bother orgasming, but once she hit about 35, something had come over her, and now she came easily. She did what she thought her partner wanted, and caught her pleasure along the way, almost incidentally. She did n't misrepresent it, but she did enhance her sexual climax. Performing them in a way Sir Henry Morton Stanley seemed to care. Stanley almost never complimented her sexually. He did n't appear displeased, but she felt he never really gave her anything to go on. Once, early in their relationship, he 'd said that he loved how reactive she was, and so she tried to keep her own response dialed up to 10 all the prison term, despite his almost add together want of feedback. But now, lost in her own thoughts, she had n't been doing that. It did feel commodity, what he was doing, and she decided to pay back him with a little groan. She moaned a little and spread her legs a trivial wider. `` Do you want Thomas More ? '' she asked, and he nodded. She thought about having him kiss her feet, and suck her toes. Her ex had been into that, and she quite enjoyed it, but she did n't want to press her luck. `` Now my back. '' she said, and rolled over.

Stanley climbed onto the bed, and began to rub her back. The pot was beginning to kick in, and she felt shimmer and riffle spreading out from his paw. `` Lower '' and Stanley dutifully moved from her articulatio humeri to her rear. `` Lower '' she said, and his hands began to knead her lower rear. `` Lower '' she said, and she wriggled her ass for vehemence. Stanley began to rub her ass, and she sighed in contentment, and then shivered in excitement. He began to trace his fingers lightly up and down her spine. He knew that drove her loony. She arched her back, and he began running his fingers over her ass, writing arcane script on them. She picked his hand up and brought it down. This time he took the jot, and smacked her, making the disturbance she loved so much. The sting spread with each hit. Twice more, and then it began to hurt. She caught his hand, and rolled over.

'' say me what you want. '' `` I want to please you. '' `` No. Ask for what you want. '' `` Sophie, I want to fuck you. '' He meant it this clip. His voice was mysterious, and she could see his lustfulness in his eyes. `` No. Not yet. I want your digit first. '' She spread her ramification, and he ran a finger's breadth along her wet slit. She sighed in contentment. She was enjoying this game. He probed crooking his finger inside the way she liked. She wriggled and moaned. He pumped his finger's breadth in and out. She squirmed beneath him, trying to take him. `` Tell me how to delight you, Sophie. I want to please you. '' `` get-up-and-go down with your palm on my clit, but do n't touch it directly. '' He complied, and she jumped. `` Do n't stop fingering me. '' She arched up to him. She wanted more. `` Use the dildo '' she said. She 'd never asked him for this, but she wanted it. `` In the top draftsman. '' He fumbled for a while, but then found it. It was shabu, boastfully and ridged, and she gasped as it went in, inhuman and slick and grueling. `` lick me while you do it. '' she said, and he did, his tongue hot and wet against her clit while the cold hard methamphetamine cock filled her and fucked her.

'' severalise me what you want. ``

'' I want to fuck you. ``

'' Beg. ``

'' I ... fuck, Sophie, delight ? Please let me fuck you ? I want to bury my tool inside of you. Please ? ``

'' You may. ``

And he did.

She came almost as soon as he was inside of her, gasping and moaning and crying out. His dick was punishing than it had ever been, and it felt hot inside her after the stale drinking glass. Her whole body was alive, and she came in technicolor undulation that shimmered and splashed across her unhurt body. He came too, gasping and moaning in a way he 'd never done before `` Oh fuck, Oh gods, Oh Sophie, fuck, fuck, I 'm cummmmmmming ! ``

She settled into his arms, his chest solid state against her back, his cock, still semi hard, nestled between her ass cheeks. `` Thank you, '' she said. `` Welcome plate, darling, '' he said. And they both drifted off to sleep .