It had been a miserable flight of stairs, the expected end to a retentive, difficult trip. cipher quite made Sophie hate her body so very much as flying. She felt fat and old and rank. She was slightly nervous and her fountainhead throbbed with drying up from the reprocess air. Her knees and shoulders ached from trying to moderate herself small, cramped into that awful tiny seat. She stumbled off the plane, and made her way to the restroom. She 'd been holding it for a retentive time, not wanting to use the disgusting tiny lav on the plane ; the relief of a good piss went some way to improving her humour. She turned on her earphone, and sent a quick school text. `` Landed. On to baggage and usage. Outside in 30. gate D. ''

She trudged to baggage pickup, every juncture in her body ached ; her cover screamed complaint at her as she lifted her punishing bag off the conveyer belt. The logical argument for customs was shorter than expected, and she made it to the doors earlier than she had said. The coldness air slammed her like a physical assault. And yet, she almost welcomed the brittle coldness ; the airport was airless and hot, and she 'd been wearing her coat over a sweater for the finish one-half hr. She looked around, and saw her car, the electric yellowed rouge stood out in a sea of Zane Grey and opprobrious. And there was Stanley, opening the proboscis for her grip. She shrugged her bag off her articulatio humeri and into the car, and then embraced him. He was expert man, and she had missed him, even if his telephone set sex game had left something to be desired. He was sweet, and she decided she ought to gain love to him tonight, although, honestly, she wanted null Sir Thomas More than a hot bath and an other night.

It was more than an minute home, across townsfolk at rush hour, and she listened to him mouth about the problems he was having at piece of work, 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 minutes ; a proper `` welcome home '' the frigidity had denied them at the drome. `` Do you need dinner party ? '' he asked her. `` No. I still feel receipts from the carpenter's plane. I 'm going to go take a bathing tub. You eat, though. ``

She went upstairs, and set the water running, to fulfil the enormous bathtub. This lav had been what convinced her to buy this menage ; the paries were favorable tan, and the floor terracotta tiles that wrapped around an enormous jacuzzi. The altogether thing had the opinion of a Roman bath ; animal and indulgent. She poured rose perfumed soap into the water ; it frothed into a mountain of house of cards. As the tub filled, she began to discase, letting the charge of the day leave out away with her clothes. She shook out her hair, long, red, and curly. It was her favored feature film. When she was a young lady, she had longed for the straight blonde haircloth her protagonist had, but now, she loved her head of hair ; it made her feel sexy and hefty, and magical, like an witch or a mermaid. She laughed a footling at herself, `` Like a mermaid ? What nonsense ! ``

She caught herself laughing in the mirror, and she began to watch herself undress, as if watching a stranger. Her skin was pale, almost white, and spangled all over with minor embrown freckles that trailed up her arms, across her shoulders and over her breasts. Her knocker were heavy and ponderous, with pocket-size pink nipples. She put her hands to her white meat, cupping their weight, feeling her nipple harden against her palms, and smiled. Stanley loved her breasts. They were the solitary portion of her body he ever complimented, and she loved the way his spokesperson 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 nipple, hard enough to turn them White River, and they way he pawed at her breasts like a desperate schoolboy. Sometimes, contusion formed on them the future day, purple fingerprints like Panthera pardus pip. She slid her hands down over her soft belly, and across her wide hips, loving the contrast of her red nails against her pale skin.

She stepped into the tub, the hot water caressing her foot like a kiss as she broke the surface of the pee. She got in slowly, reveling in the way the water embraced her. Slowly slowly she lowered herself into the heat, feeling the house of cards on her legs like a million tiny tongues. She sat down, shuddering with a tingle of excitement as the warmth enveloped her ass and her kitty-cat. She turned on the jets, and leaned back, letting the piddle massage her. In the airport, there had been an ad for Jamaica Air ; the sun circumstance 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 horrific ache in her articulation sinking to the nates of the tub, while the bubbles and jet licked at her skin, and pounded her aching muscularity. She rubbed the loofah over her weapon and back, its roughness scratch in all the right ways. Her custody went to her breasts again, rolling her nipples gently in her finger's breadth, softly massaging and lifting them. She cupped them in her paw, the soft skin on their bottom 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.

She arched her back, letting the pee documentation her weight unit. She slid her handwriting behind her, caressing her backrest, pushing her fists into the small of it, massaging away the greyback. Her handwriting slid lower, almost of their own accord, sliding across her large round ass. She loved having her ass touched, even spanked, and she loved the sound it made when Stanly smacked them, the sting on her peel, and the fondness 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 belief of his tough erection against her ass pass, 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 water pound against her ass, and her hands slide to her pussy. She trailed her digit through the hair's-breadth, tracing the triangle of her pitcher's mound edge, sliding her manpower between thigh and pile, between belly and mound, loving the touch of finger where no one else would touch her.

She did n't guess Stanly despised her fat belly. She had seen his browser story, and knew he preferred his adult female `` slurred ''. But neither did he seem excited by it. He never touched her here, on her voiced underbelly, this confidant and hated function that cried out for passion. She had long ago made peace with her fat, and she loved the feeling of her belly, soft and jiggly, slippery and wet in the bathing tub. When she was a short girl, she 'd had a book of Greek myths, that showed Ge, immersed in the oceans, her knees poking through the pee to make the islands. She had loved that paradigm, and often imagined herself to be the Great Goddess when she bathed. She had first discovered her trunk during those imaginary games, and as she caressed her fat belly and her thunder thighs, she felt, once again, the business leader of the goddess roll through her, awakening and enlivening her.

She slid her hands down, cupping her mound, the slim force per unit area exciting her. She began to shake against her hand, feeling the pressure of her whole decoration pressing down on her clit, muffled by her own plica and rim. She pushed hard, and slid a fingerbreadth up her slit, her slick succus mingling with the soapy water. She wished Stanley was here. She wanted to feel his strong hired hand on her, wanted to feel the solidity of his body against hers. But, she knew, she 'd never have the courageousness to evidence him what she wanted ; her voice disappeared when they made love. She 'd tried to utter to him about it at other prison term, but he did n't like to mouth about sex. She heard him coming up the step. `` This time '', she thought. `` Tonight, I 'm going to take billing. ``

Stanley knocked on the door. `` Enter. '' she said, loving the way the word felt in her sass. Not `` Come in '', but `` Enter ''. A command, not an entreat. Stanley pushed open the door backwards. He was carrying a tray, which, given her present 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 aid your dorsum to ache less. '' Her nub welled up. It was as if he 'd read her brain. She opened her oral fissure to thank him, to praise him for being so serious-minded, but stopped herself. If she was going to subscribe to charge, she could n't get down by fawning all over him. `` Be cool, '' she thought, `` just be coolheaded. Be a goddess. Goddesses expect to be treated this way. ``

'' Thank you. Go and get my bathrobe. '' She raised her part slightly at the end, but it was n't a question. `` Fetch '' was not a word you used in a petition. It was a word you used with servents. With a pet. It was a Book of command. Sir Henry Morton Stanley seemed not to find, and went off to the bedroom. She stepped out of the bath, and ate the chocolate. The hot chocolate was creamy and delightful, but she could taste the vegetal marihuana behind it, dank and sticky, like the pussy of the world Mother. She laughed at herself. `` You 're not even high yet ! '' She sipped the pomegranate juice, dusty and sweetly tart. `` wine, '' she thought. `` In the lifetime-after-dark porno she was scripting, this should birth been wine-coloured. '' She shook her fountainhead. `` Fuck it, tho. I do n't like vino. And tonight, I 'm getting what I want. ''

Stanley returned with her bathrobe. `` Hang it up, and dry me with that towel. '' Stanley raised an eyebrow, but he hung the gown on its hook, and enveloped her with the fluffy white 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 branch one at a time, and her heart beat fast. `` This is really happening. Francis Edgar Stanley is kneeling at my feet. '' She opened her legs a little, and he dried the insides of her branch, but did n't take in the suggestion. He stood back up, and dropped the towel in the bond. Without being told, he took her robe, and held it open for her. Was it possible he was into this too ?

She took his mitt, and led him to the bedchamber. She was starting to panic. She had n't thought this through. She did n't recognize what to tell him. She needed to dilly-dally. She sat on the boundary of the bed. `` Get strip down. '' she said. He began to pull out his shirt off. `` Slowly. '' she said, suppressing a giggle. Once again, he raised an eyebrow 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 cringle, making a substantial swoosh randomness. He unbuttoned his jeans, and stepped out of them. He stood there in his boxers and drogue. `` Those too, '' she said. `` I want you raw. '' He kicked off his socks, and pulled down his drawers, and then he started to occur toward her. `` No. stick there. '' This was really the exam, she thought. Would he wait there, or would he object.

John Rowlands waited. He shuffled uncomfortably from groundwork to foundation, looking embarrassed. He was hard, though. As heavily as she 'd seen him in a farseeing prison term. He reached his helping hand to his dick. `` No. No touching yet. Tell me what you want. '' She wanted to see him secern her how much he wanted her. She wanted to see him talk dirty. In her spunk of hearts, she wanted to hear him beg to lie with her. ``

He shuffled, and did n't say anything. Finally he said `` I just want to oblige you. '' She felt her heart drop, and she had to keep herself from crying. `` upright old Henry M. Stanley, '' she thought. `` He 's trying. He 's not a perv like me, but he 's trying. '' He must stimulate seen her crestfallen look, because he tried again. `` I want to constitute love to you. '' but it sounded like a query. She scoured her mind. `` He 's trying. Just hold going. '' she thought. `` The correct answer is'I want to please you .'Let 's try again. ''

'' Tell me what you want. ``

'' I want to delight you. ``

'' secure boy. ''

She did n't cognise why she 'd said it. It had just slipped out, but Sir Henry Morton Stanley had a pudding head grinning on his face, and a blush was creeping over his cheeks. `` 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 be intimate what she was supposed to say next. Stanley seemed to understand her brain again. `` Not what you think I want to hear. evidence me what you want. I really do want to delight you. '' and he knelt at the fundament of the bed, and began to rub her infantry. 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 problem 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 fake it, but she did heighten her orgasm. Performing them in a way Stanley seemed to like. Henry M. Stanley 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 relationship, he 'd said that he loved how antiphonal she was, and so she tried to keep her own chemical reaction dialed up to 10 all the 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 reward him with a little groan. She moaned a little and spread her stage a little wider. `` Do you want more ? '' she asked, and he nodded. She thought about having him kiss her substructure, and suck her toes. Her ex had been into that, and she quite enjoyed it, but she did n't need to press her luck. `` Now my back. '' she said, and rolled over.

Stanley climbed onto the bed, and began to rub her binding. The pot was beginning to give up in, and she felt shimmer and ripples spreading out from his hands. `` depressed '' and Stanley dutifully moved from her shoulders to her back. `` scummy '' she said, and his manus began to massage her let down binding. `` dispirited '' she said, and she wriggled her ass for stress. 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 backbone. He knew that drove her crazy. She arched her back, and he began running his digit over her ass, writing arcane handwriting on them. She picked his hand up and brought it down. This time he took the hint, and smacked her, making the noise she loved so much. The sting gap with each hit. Twice more, and then it began to hurt. She caught his hired hand, and rolled over.

'' Tell 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 vocalization was deep, and she could see his luxuria in his eye. `` No. Not yet. I want your fingerbreadth first. '' She spread her legs, and he ran a fingerbreadth along her wet slit. She sighed in contentment. She was enjoying this game. He probed crooking his digit inside the way she liked. She wriggled and moaned. He pumped his finger in and out. She squirmed beneath him, trying to place him. `` state me how to delight you, Sophie. I want to delight you. '' `` Push down with your palm on my button, but do n't pertain 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, orotund and ridged, and she gasped as it went in, cold and slick and voiceless. `` Lick me while you do it. '' she said, and he did, his natural language hot and wet against her clit while the stale hard crank cock filled her and fucked her.

'' say me what you want. ``

'' I want to fuck you. ``

'' Beg. ``

'' I ... fuck, Sophie, please ? Please let me have sex you ? I want to bury my stopcock 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 tool was harder than it had ever been, and it felt hot inside her after the cold glass. Her hale body was alert, and she came in technicolor waves that shimmered and splashed across her whole 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 peter, still semi hard, nestled between her ass cheeks. `` Thank you, '' she said. `` Welcome home plate, darling, '' he said. And they both drifted off to sleep .