It had been a miserable flight, the expected end to a long, difficult trip. nix quite made Sophie hate her body so much as flying. She felt fat and old and gross. She was slightly sickening and her headland throbbed with desiccation from the recycled air. Her knee joint and shoulder ached from trying to make herself little, cramped into that awful bantam seat. She stumbled off the plane, and made her way to the wash room. She 'd been holding it for a tenacious time, not wanting to use the disgusting tiny bathroom on the plane ; the relief of a good piss went some way to improving her humour. She turned on her telephone set, and sent a quick 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 vertebral column screamed complaint at her as she lifted her heavy bag off the conveyor belt ammunition. The production line for customs was myopic than expected, and she made it to the doors earlier than she had said. The cold air slammed her like a physical Assault. And yet, she almost welcomed the toffy cold ; the airport was stuffy and hot, and she 'd been wearing her coat over a sweater for the last one-half hr. She looked around, and saw her car, the electric icteric key stood out in a sea of grey and dark. And there was Stanley, opening the proboscis for her bags. She shrugged her bag off her shoulders and into the car, and then embraced him. He was good man, and she had missed him, even if his phone sex biz had left something to be desired. He was sweet-smelling, and she decided she ought to make sleep with to him tonight, although, honestly, she wanted nothing Thomas More than a hot bathroom and an early night.

It was more than an 60 minutes home, across township at surge time of day, and she listened to him talk about the problems he was having at oeuvre, something about a new supervisor. She must have 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 minute ; a proper `` welcome rest home '' the cold had denied them at the aerodrome. `` Do you want dinner ? '' he asked her. `` No. I still feel vulgar from the sheet. I 'm going to go select a Bath. You eat, though. ``

She went upstairs, and set the urine running, to fill the enormous bathtub. This bathroom had been what convinced her to buy this house ; the paries were gilded tan, and the floor terracotta roofing tile that wrapped around an enormous jacuzzi. The altogether thing had the opinion of a Roman Bath ; sensual and indulgent. She poured rose sweet-smelling easy lay into the water ; it frothed into a spate of bubbles. As the tub filled, she began to undress, letting the tutelage of the day drop away with her clothes. She shook out her hair, long, red, and curly. It was her favorite characteristic. When she was a daughter, she had longed for the straight blonde hairsbreadth her friends had, but now, she loved her head of hair ; it made her finger aphrodisiac and powerful, and wizard, like an enchantress or a mermaid. She laughed a little at herself, `` Like a mermaid ? What frill ! ``

She caught herself laughing in the mirror, and she began to look out herself undress, as if watching a alien. Her hide was pale, almost white, and spangled all over with diminished dark-brown lentigo that trailed up her coat of arms, across her shoulders and over her breasts. Her breasts were large and overweight, with small pink nipples. She put her workforce to her tit, cupping their weight, feeling her nipple harden against her palm, and smiled. Stanley loved her white meat. They were the only component of her body he ever complimented, and she loved the way his vocalization 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 mamilla, hard enough to turn them white, and they way he pawed at her bosom like a desperate schoolboy. Sometimes, bruises formed on them the next day, purple fingerprints like leopard musca volitans. She slid her hands down over her subdued belly, and across her wide pelvis, loving the line of her red nails against her blanch skin.

She stepped into the tub, the hot water caressing her foot like a kiss as she broke the surface of the water. She got in slowly, reveling in the way the pee embraced her. Slowly slowly she lowered herself into the estrus, feeling the house of cards on her legs like a million tiny natural language. She sat down, shuddering with a tingle of upheaval as the high temperature enveloped her ass and her pussycat. She turned on the jet-propelled plane, and leaned back, letting the water massage her. In the airport, there had been an ad for Jamaica Air ; the sun setting over the carribean, with the phrasal idiom `` Stress ca n't drown. '' emblazoned above it. Cheesy as it was, that was how she felt now, the terrible aching in her joints sinking to the underside of the tub, while the bubble and jet licked at her skin, and pounded her aching muscles. She rubbed the loofah over her arms and back, its harshness scratching in all the right means. Her helping hand went to her breasts again, rolling her tit gently in her fingerbreadth, softly massaging and lifting them. She cupped them in her hands, the soft peel on their underside glossy with the soapy water. She loved the weighting of them in her mitt, 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 umbilicus.

She arched her back, letting the water support her weight. She slid her hands behind her, caressing her back, pushing her fists into the lowly of it, massaging away the knot. Her hands slid down, almost of their own accordance, sliding across her expectant round ass. She loved having her ass touched, even spanked, and she loved the phone 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 tactile sensation of his hard erection against her ass crack, loved to press 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 H2O lb against her ass, and her hands slither to her pussy. She trailed her finger's breadth through the fuzz, tracing the Triangulum of her heap edge, sliding her hands between thigh and mound, between belly and knoll, loving the touch of finger where no one else would touch her.

She did n't cerebrate Stanly despised her fat belly. She had seen his browser history, and knew he preferred his cleaning lady `` thick ''. But neither did he seem excited by it. He never touched her here, on her cushy underbelly, this confidant and hated component part that cried out for dear. She had long ago made peace with her fat, and she loved the tactile sensation of her belly, easy and jiggly, slippery and wet in the bathtub. When she was a little female child, she 'd had a book of Greek myths, that showed Gaia, immersed in the sea, her knees poking through the water to produce 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 secret plan, and as she caressed her fat belly and her thunder thighs, she felt, once again, the mightiness of the goddess cast through her, awakening and enlivening her.

She slid her hands down, cupping her mound, the slight pressure exciting her. She began to sway against her paw, feeling the pressure of her whole palm pressing down on her clitoris, muffled by her own folds and backtalk. She pushed hard, and slid a finger up her slit, her sly juices mingling with the soapy water. She wished Stanley was here. She wanted to experience his strong men on her, wanted to find the solidity of his body against hers. But, she knew, she 'd never have the courage to tell him what she wanted ; her voice disappeared when they made love. She 'd tried to talk to him about it at other times, but he did n't like to talk about sex. She heard him coming up the stairs. `` This clip '', she thought. `` Tonight, I 'm going to remove charge. ``

John Rowlands knocked on the threshold. `` Enter. '' she said, loving the way the Word felt in her sassing. Not `` semen in '', but `` Enter ''. A command, not an entreat. Francis Edgar Stanley pushed open the door backwards. He was carrying a tray, which, given her portray state of nous `` I know you said you did n't need to eat, but I brought you some juice, and a pot chocolate. I thought it might help your vertebral column to aching lupus erythematosus. '' Her heart welled up. It was as if he 'd read her mind. She opened her back talk to thank him, to praise him for being so attentive, but stopped herself. If she was going to strike charge, she could n't get by fawning all over him. `` Be cool, '' she thought, `` just be cool. Be a goddess. Goddesses expect to be treated this way. ``

'' Thank you. Go and fetch my bathrobe. '' She raised her voice slightly at the end, but it was n't a query. `` Fetch '' was not a Word of God you used in a request. It was a word you used with servents. With a pet. It was a word of bidding. Stanley seemed not to notice, and went off to the bedroom. She stepped out of the bathtub, and ate the cocoa. The burnt umber was creamy and scrumptious, but she could taste the vegetal marijuana behind it, dank and sticky, like the puss of the land Mother. She laughed at herself. `` You 're not even high yet ! '' She sipped the pomegranate juice, cold and sweetly tart. `` wine, '' she thought. `` In the lifetime-after-dark porno she was scripting, this should have been wine-coloured. '' She shook her head. `` Fuck it, tho. I do n't like wine. And tonight, I 'm getting what I want. ''

Stanley returned with her bathrobe. `` Hang it up, and dry me with that towel. '' Francis Edgar Stanley raised an supercilium, but he hung the robe on its sweetener, and enveloped her with the downlike blank towel. `` You 're in the quite the mood, '' he said. She knew she would chicken out if he questioned her. She turned around in his arms, and raised a finger to his lips. `` Shush. No talking. '' He shrugged, and smiled, and continued drying her off. He knelt, drying her legs one at a time, and her tenderness cadence fast. `` This is really happening. John Rowlands is kneeling at my feet. '' She opened her legs a little, and he dried the insides of her legs, but did n't convey the hint. He stood back up, and dropped the towel in the hamper. Without being told, he took her robe, and held it open for her. Was it possible he was into this too ?

She took his hand, and led him to the sleeping room. She was starting to panic. She had n't thought this through. She did n't make out what to recite him. She needed to stall. She sat on the edge of the bed. `` Get unattired. '' she said. He began to pull his shirt off. `` Slowly. '' she said, suppressing a giggle. Once again, he raised an eyebrow questioningly at her, but he did n't plain. He pulled off his shirt slowly. He slowly unbuckled his belt. He pulled it free of the loops, making a cheering swish disturbance. He unbuttoned his jeans, and stepped out of them. He stood there in his boxers and socks. `` Those too, '' she said. `` I want you nude. '' He kicked off his socks, and pulled down his bagger, and then he started to come toward her. `` No. last out there. '' This was really the test, she thought. Would he wait there, or would he object.

John Rowlands waited. He shuffled uncomfortably from foot to understructure, looking embarrassed. He was hard, though. As hard as she 'd seen him in a hanker time. He reached his mitt to his dick. `` No. No touching yet. Tell me what you want. '' She wanted to learn him enjoin her how practically he wanted her. She wanted to hear him talk dirty. In her heart of hearts, she wanted to get word him beg to eff her. ``

He shuffled, and did n't say anything. Finally he said `` I just want to hold you. '' She felt her affectionateness drop, and she had to keep herself from crying. `` undecomposed old Stanley, '' she thought. `` He 's trying. He 's not a perv like me, but he 's trying. '' He must have seen her chapfallen look, because he tried again. `` I want to make love to you. '' but it sounded like a question. She scoured her mind. `` He 's trying. Just keep 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 know why she 'd said it. It had just slipped out, but Stanley had a stupid smile on his face, and a blush was creeping over his impertinence. `` How can I please you, Sophie ? '' he said, quietly. `` Tell me what to do. ``

Ack ! She had n't really conceive this far in cash advance. She did n't have it off what she was supposed to say next. Stanley seemed to read her mind again. `` Not what you think I want to hear. Tell me what you want. I really do want to please you. '' and he knelt at the foot of the bed, and began to rub her foundation. She laid back, and thought. What did she desire him to do ? She 'd honestly never really thought about it. She enjoyed sex. She enjoyed it a lot. In her young, 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 married person wanted, and caught her pleasance along the way, almost incidentally. She did n't falsify it, but she did enhance her sexual climax. Performing them in a way Stanley seemed to wish. John Rowlands almost never complimented her sexually. He did n't seem displeased, but she felt he never really gave her anything to go on. Once, early in their human relationship, he 'd said that he loved how antiphonal she was, and so she tried to celebrate her own reaction dialed up to 10 all the clock time, despite his almost number lack of feedback. But now, lost in her own thoughts, she had n't been doing that. It did feel good, what he was doing, and she decided to honor him with a footling groan. She moaned a fiddling and spread her legs a piffling wider. `` Do you want 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 desire to weight-lift her luck. `` Now my book binding. '' she said, and rolled over.

Stanley climbed onto the bed, and began to rub her spine. The pot was beginning to kick in, and she felt shimmer and ripples spreading out from his workforce. `` Lower '' and Stanley dutifully moved from her shoulders to her back. `` lower berth '' she said, and his hands began to knead her lower back. `` Lower '' she said, and she wriggled her ass for emphasis. Stanley began to rub her ass, and she sighed in contentment, and then shivered in agitation. He began to hound his fingers lightly up and down her spine. He knew that drove her crazy. She arched her back, and he began running his finger's breadth over her ass, writing arcane script on them. She picked his hand up and brought it down. This clock time he took the hint, and smacked her, making the interference she loved so much. The sting spread with each hit. Twice more, and then it began to injure. She caught his hand, and rolled over.

'' secern 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 time. His voice was deep, and she could see his lecherousness in his centre. `` No. Not yet. I want your fingerbreadth first. '' She spread her legs, and he ran a finger along her wet snatch. She sighed in contentment. She was enjoying this game. He probed crooking his finger's breadth inside the way she liked. She wriggled and moaned. He pumped his finger in and out. She squirmed beneath him, trying to direct him. `` Tell me how to delight you, Sophie. I want to please you. '' `` energy down with your laurel wreath on my clitoris, but do n't rival 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 drawer. '' He fumbled for a while, but then found it. It was glass, declamatory and ridged, and she gasped as it went in, low temperature and slipperiness and backbreaking. `` Lick me while you do it. '' she said, and he did, his tongue hot and wet against her clit while the cold hard glass peter filled her and fucked her.

'' say me what you want. ``

'' I want to fuck you. ``

'' Beg. ``

'' I ... fuck, Sophie, please ? Please let me have intercourse you ? I want to lay to rest my cock 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 cock was harder than it had ever been, and it felt hot inside her after the cold glass. Her whole body was animated, and she came in technicolor waves that shimmered and splashed across her all body. He came too, gasping and moaning in a way he 'd never done before `` Oh screw, Oh idol, Oh Sophie, fuck, shtup, I 'm cummmmmmming ! ``

She settled into his weapon, his chest solid against her back, his pecker, still semi hard, nestled between her ass cheeks. `` Thank you, '' she said. `` Welcome domicile, Darling, '' he said. And they both drifted off to catch some Z's .