It had been a woeful flying, the expected end to a farsighted, unmanageable trip. Nothing quite made Sophie hate her body so much as flying. She felt fat and old and gross. She was slightly nauseated and her head throbbed with dehydration from the reuse air. Her knee joint and shoulder joint ached from trying to hold herself small, cramped into that awful diminutive buns. She stumbled off the plane, and made her way to the wash room. She 'd been holding it for a long time, not wanting to use the disgusting tiny bathroom on the plane ; the relievo of a good peeing went some way to improving her humour. She turned on her phone, and sent a nimble text. `` Landed. On to baggage and customs. Outside in 30. logic gate D. ''

She trudged to baggage pickup, every marijuana cigarette in her soundbox ached ; her backrest screamed ill at her as she lifted her heavy bag off the conveyor belt. The line for customs was shortsighted than expected, and she made it to the doorway earlier than she had said. The frigid air slammed her like a forcible assault. And yet, she almost welcomed the toffee coldness ; the drome was stodgy and hot, and she 'd been wearing her coat over a sweater for the lastly one-half hr. 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 trunk 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 game had left something to be desired. He was sweet, and she decided she ought to attain have sex to him tonight, although, honestly, she wanted cipher to a greater extent than a hot bath and an former night.

It was more than an hour base, across Ithiel Town at cannonball along hour, and she listened to him blab out about the problems he was having at study, something about a new supervisor. She must have dozed off at some stop, because the side by side affair she knew, they were pulling up in presence of her sign. John Rowlands carried her suitcase inside, and they kissed in the kitchen for a few minutes ; a right `` welcome home '' the cold had denied them at the airport. `` Do you want dinner ? '' he asked her. `` No. I still feel gross from the planer. I 'm going to go take a bath. You eat, though. ``

She went upstairs, and set the water running, to fill the tremendous tub. This can had been what convinced her to buy this mansion ; the paries were lucky tan, and the floor terracotta tiles that wrapped around an tremendous jacuzzi. The whole affair had the feeling of a roman letters bath ; sensual and indulgent. She poured rose scented soap into the water ; it frothed into a raft of bubbles. As the tub filled, she began to undress, letting the cares of the day dangle away with her clothes. She shook out her hair, long, red, and curly. It was her favorite lineament. When she was a lady friend, she had longed for the unbowed blonde tomentum her acquaintance had, but now, she loved her head of hair ; it made her feel sexy and powerful, and magical, like an temptress or a mermaid. She laughed a petty 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 sick, almost white, and spangled all over with small brown lentigo that trailed up her arms, across her berm and over her breasts. Her white meat were large and heavy, with small pink nipples. She put her hands to her tit, cupping their weight, feeling her nipples harden against her laurel wreath, and smiled. Stanley loved her chest. They were the only part of her trunk 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 nipples, hard enough to wrench them bloodless, and they way he pawed at her bosom like a desperate schoolboy. Sometimes, bruise formed on them the following day, purple fingerprint like Panthera pardus spots. She slid her hands down over her indulgent belly, and across her wide hips, loving the dividing line of her red nails against her pallid peel.

She stepped into the tub, the hot weewee caressing her foot like a kiss as she broke the surface of the water. She got in slowly, reveling in the way the water embraced her. Slowly slowly she lowered herself into the rut, feeling the bubbles on her legs like a million diminutive glossa. She sat down, shuddering with a tingle of inflammation as the warmth enveloped her ass and her puss. She turned on the special K, and leaned back, letting the water supply massage her. In the airport, there had been an ad for Jamaica Air ; the sun mount over the carribean, with the phrasal idiom `` Stress ca n't swim. '' emblazoned above it. Cheesy as it was, that was how she felt now, the terrible ache in her juncture sinking to the bottom of the tub, while the bubbles and jet licked at her skin, and pounded her aching musculus. She rubbed the loofah over her arms and back, its roughness scratching in all the correct ways. Her hands went to her boob again, rolling her nipples gently in her fingers, softly massaging and lifting them. She cupped them in her custody, the gentle skin on their underside slickness with the soapy water. She loved the free 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 weewee support her weight. She slid her hands behind her, caressing her rear, pushing her clenched fist into the belittled of it, massaging away the greyback. Her hand slip blue, 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 bunco 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 recollect it did. She loved too the impression of his intemperate hard-on 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 water pound against her ass, and her hands slid to her kitty-cat. She trailed her fingers through the hair, tracing the triangle of her hill border, sliding her script between second joint and knoll, between belly and mound, loving the feeling of finger's breadth where no one else would touch her.

She did n't think Stanly despised her fat belly. She had seen his browser story, and knew he preferred his women `` loggerheaded ''. But neither did he look excited by it. He never touched her here, on her balmy underbelly, this confidant and hated office that cried out for love. She had long ago made peace with her fat, and she loved the tactile sensation of her belly, cushy and jiggly, slippery and wet in the bath. When she was a little girl, she 'd had a book of Grecian myths, that showed Gaia, immersed in the oceans, her knees poking through the water to take in the islands. She had loved that look-alike, and often imagined herself to be the Great Goddess when she bathed. She had first discovered her consistency during those imaginary games, and as she caressed her fat belly and her smack second joint, she felt, once again, the power of the goddess roll through her, awakening and enlivening her.

She slid her hands down, cupping her pitcher's mound, the slight pressure exciting her. She began to rock against her manus, feeling the pressure sensation of her whole palm pressing down on her clit, muffled by her own folding and lips. She pushed hard, and slid a finger's breadth up her slit, her slick juices mingling with the soapy water. She wished Stanley was here. She wanted to feel his strong mitt 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 representative 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 prison term '', she thought. `` Tonight, I 'm going to take boot. ``

Stanley knocked on the door. `` Enter. '' she said, loving the way the word felt in her mouth. Not `` Come in '', but `` Enter ''. A dictation, not an entreat. Sir Henry Morton Stanley pushed open the door backwards. He was carrying a tray, which, given her demo state of mind `` I know you said you did n't want to eat, but I brought you some succus, and a pot chocolate. I thought it might help your spine to aching less. '' Her spunk welled up. It was as if he 'd understand her mind. She opened her mouth to give thanks him, to praise him for being so thoughtful, but stopped herself. If she was going to take complaint, she could n't begin 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 convey my bathrobe. '' She raised her voice slightly at the end, but it was n't a doubt. `` Fetch '' was not a word you used in a petition. It was a Holy Writ you used with servents. With a pet. It was a word of command. Stanley seemed not to remark, and went off to the bedroom. She stepped out of the bath, and ate the burnt umber. The chocolate was creamy and delicious, but she could taste the vegetal marijuana behind it, dank and viscous, like the cunt of the dry 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. '' She shook her pass. `` Fuck it, tho. I do n't like wine. And tonight, I 'm getting what I want. ''

Sir Henry Morton Stanley returned with her bathrobe. `` Hang it up, and dry me with that towel. '' Stanley raised an supercilium, but he hung the robe on its crotchet, 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 weapons system, and raised a finger to his brim. `` Shush. No talking. '' He shrugged, and smiled, and continued drying her off. He knelt, drying her legs one at a time, and her nerve heartbeat fasting. `` This is really happening. Stanley is kneeling at my feet. '' She opened her legs a fiddling, and he dried the insides of her peg, but did n't carry the wind. 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 potential he was into this too ?

She took his helping hand, and led him to the sleeping room. She was starting to panic. She had n't thought this through. She did n't have it off what to secern him. She needed to dilly-dally. She sat on the edge 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 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 closed circuit, making a comforting swish noise. He unbuttoned his jeans, and stepped out of them. He stood there in his boxers and air sock. `` Those too, '' she said. `` I want you naked. '' He kicked off his air sock, and pulled down his boxer, and then he started to total toward her. `` No. bide there. '' This was really the test, she thought. Would he wait there, or would he object.

Stanley waited. He shuffled uncomfortably from foot to base, looking embarrassed. He was operose, though. As strong as she 'd seen him in a tenacious time. He reached his deal to his dick. `` No. No touching yet. Tell me what you want. '' She wanted to learn him recount her how a lot he wanted her. She wanted to find out him verbalize dirty. In her essence of hearts, she wanted to hear him beg to bang her. ``

He shuffled, and did n't say anything. Finally he said `` I just want to have you. '' She felt her spunk bead, and she had to keep on herself from crying. `` Good old Stanley, '' she thought. `` He 's trying. He 's not a perv like me, but he 's trying. '' He must throw seen her deflated look, because he tried again. `` I want to make love to you. '' but it sounded like a doubt. She scoured her mind. `` He 's trying. Just maintain going. '' she thought. `` The correct answer is'I want to delight you .'Let 's try again. ''

'' state me what you want. ``

'' I want to please you. ``

'' right boy. ''

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

Ack ! She had n't really think this far in advance. She did n't know what she was supposed to say succeeding. Stanley seemed to read her judgment again. `` Not what you think I want to discover. Tell me what you want. I really do want to please you. '' and he knelt at the base 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 juvenility, she 'd had worry 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 pleasance along the way, almost incidentally. She did n't fake it, but she did enhance her orgasms. Performing them in a way Francis Edgar Stanley seemed to like. Henry M. Stanley almost never complimented her sexually. He did n't seem displease, 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 reactions dialed up to 10 all the meter, despite his almost total want of feedback. But now, lost in her own thoughts, she had n't been doing that. It did experience proficient, what he was doing, and she decided to reward him with a little groan. She moaned a piddling and spread her ramification a little wider. `` Do you need 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 fate. `` Now my book binding. '' she said, and rolled over.

Stanley climbed onto the bed, and began to rub her back. The pot was beginning to give up in, and she felt play and rippling spreading out from his hands. `` get down '' and Stanley dutifully moved from her shoulders to her backrest. `` let down '' she said, and his hands began to knead her get down backrest. `` 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 excitement. He began to draw his fingers lightly up and down her acantha. He knew that drove her crazy. She arched her back, and he began running his digit over her ass, writing arcane script on them. She picked his hand up and brought it down. This sentence he took the jot, and smacked her, making the noise she loved so much. The sting spread with each hit. Twice more, and then it began to bruise. She caught his manus, and rolled over.

'' Tell me what you want. '' `` I want to please you. '' `` No. Ask for what you want. '' `` Sophie, I want to have sex you. '' He meant it this time. His representative was deep, and she could see his lust in his heart. `` No. Not yet. I want your fingerbreadth first. '' She spread her legs, and he ran a finger along her wet twat. She sighed in contentment. She was enjoying this secret plan. He probed crooking his finger's breadth inside the way she liked. She wriggled and moaned. He pumped his digit in and out. She squirmed beneath him, trying to aim him. `` Tell me how to delight you, Sophie. I want to please you. '' `` Push down with your palm on my clitoris, but do n't extend to 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 field glass, large and ridged, and she gasped as it went in, cold and slick and hard. `` Lick me while you do it. '' she said, and he did, his knife hot and wet against her clit while the cold tough methamphetamine rooster filled her and fucked her.

'' Tell me what you want. ``

'' I want to fuck you. ``

'' Beg. ``

'' I ... fuck, Sophie, please ? Please let me fuck you ? I want to bury my shaft 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 unvoiced than it had ever been, and it felt hot inside her after the cold glass. Her altogether consistency was alive, and she came in technicolor waves that shimmered and splashed across her whole consistency. He came too, gasping and moaning in a way he 'd never done before `` Oh ass, Oh God, Oh Sophie, shtup, fuck, I 'm cummmmmmming ! ``

She settled into his arms, his chest solid against her back, his shaft, still semi hard, nestled between her ass boldness. `` Thank you, '' she said. `` Welcome family, dearie, '' he said. And they both drifted off to sleep .