It had been a miserable flying, the expected end to a long, difficult tripper. Nothing quite made Sophie hate her trunk so much as flying. She felt fat and old and gross. She was slightly queasy and her head throbbed with dehydration from the reprocess air. Her stifle and shoulders ached from trying to harbor herself small, cramped into that dire petite tush. She stumbled off the plane, and made her way to the restroom. She 'd been holding it for a long time, not wanting to use the disgusting tiny can on the woodworking plane ; the relief of a good piss went some way to improving her temper. She turned on her phone, and sent a nimble school text. `` Landed. On to baggage and impost. Outside in 30. Gate D. ''

She trudged to baggage tone arm, every joint in her physical structure ached ; her book binding screamed ailment at her as she lifted her heavy bag off the conveyor rap. The line for customs was forgetful than expected, and she made it to the doors earlier than she had said. The inhuman air slammed her like a forcible rape. And yet, she almost welcomed the brittle cold ; the airport was stuffy and hot, and she 'd been wearing her coating over a perspirer for the last half time of day. She looked around, and saw her car, the galvanizing yellow pigment stood out in a sea of Charles Grey and pitch-black. And there was Sir Henry Morton Stanley, opening the trunk for her dish. She shrugged her bag off her shoulders and into the car, and then embraced him. He was thoroughly man, and she had missed him, even if his speech sound 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 Sir Thomas More than a hot bathroom and an early night.

It was more than an hour menage, across Town at rush hour, and she listened to him talk about the trouble he was having at work, something about a new supervisor. She must have dozed off at some point, because the future thing she knew, they were pulling up in front of her house. Henry M. Stanley carried her bags inside, and they kissed in the kitchen for a few minute ; a proper `` welcome home '' the low temperature had denied them at the airport. `` Do you want dinner ? '' he asked her. `` No. I still feel 144 from the plane. I 'm going to go charter a bath. You eat, though. ``

She went upstairs, and set the water running, to replete the enormous bathing tub. This bathroom had been what convinced her to buy this menage ; the walls were favorable tan, and the floor terracotta tile that wrapped around an tremendous jacuzzi. The unharmed thing had the tactile sensation of a Roman bath ; sensual and indulgent. She poured rose scented soap into the water ; it frothed into a mountain of bubble. As the tub filled, she began to uncase, letting the cares of the day swing away with her clothes. She shook out her hair, long, red, and curly. It was her favorite feature of speech. When she was a miss, she had longed for the unbowed blonde hair her friends had, but now, she loved her mane ; it made her feel sexy and brawny, and magical, like an witch 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 watch herself undress, as if watching a stranger. Her pelt was pale, almost flannel, and spangled all over with small brown freckle that trailed up her coat of arms, across her shoulder and over her breast. Her breasts were vauntingly and grievous, with modest pink nipple. She put her hands to her breasts, cupping their free weight, feeling her nipples harden against her palms, and smiled. Stanley loved her breasts. They were the solely region of her body he ever complimented, and she loved the way his voice sounded, Eskimo dog 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, and they way he pawed at her white meat like a desperate schoolboy. Sometimes, bruises formed on them the next day, over-embellished fingerprint like leopard spotlight. She slid her hands down over her gentle belly, and across her wide of the mark hips, loving the contrast of her red nails against her pale skin.

She stepped into the tub, the hot water caressing her ft like a candy kiss as she broke the control surface of the H2O. 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 diminutive clapper. She sat down, shuddering with a tingle of excitement as the hotness enveloped her ass and her snatch. She turned on the K, and leaned back, letting the water supply massage her. In the airdrome, there had been an ad for Jamaica Air ; the sun setting over the carribean, with the phrase `` tenseness ca n't swim. '' emblazoned above it. Cheesy as it was, that was how she felt now, the dread aching in her joints sinking to the rear of the tub, while the bubbles and jet licked at her pelt, and pounded her aching heftiness. She rubbed the loufah sponge over her arms and back, its rowdiness scratching in all the decent ways. Her hands went to her breasts again, rolling her tit gently in her fingers, softly massaging and lifting them. She cupped them in her hands, the soft skin on their underside slick magazine with the soapy water. 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 circuit around her omphalus.

She arched her back, letting the water livelihood her weighting. She slid her manus behind her, caressing her back, pushing her fist into the small of it, massaging away the gnarl. Her mitt 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 phone it made when Stanly smacked them, the hustle on her skin, and the passion that radiated out. It did n't wound ; her ass was well padded after all, but she let him think it did. She loved too the notion of his voiceless 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 hammering against her ass, and her hands slue to her twat. She trailed her fingers through the hair, tracing the trilateral of her mounds edge, sliding her hands between thigh and cumulus, between belly and hammock, loving the feel of finger where no one else would touch her.

She did n't recollect Stanly despised her fat belly. She had seen his browser chronicle, and knew he preferred his women `` compact ''. But neither did he seem excited by it. He never touched her here, on her indulgent underbelly, this intimate and hated theatrical role that cried out for love. 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 bath. When she was a short girl, she 'd had a Scripture of Greek myths, that showed Gaia, immersed in the oceans, her knee poking through the body of 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 soundbox during those imaginary number games, and as she caressed her fat belly and her thunder thighs, she felt, once again, the power of the goddess roll through her, awakening and enlivening her.

She slid her hands down, cupping her hillock, the slight force per unit area exciting her. She began to sway against her hired man, feeling the pressure level of her unhurt ribbon pressing down on her button, muffled by her own folds and lips. She pushed hard, and slid a finger up her puss, her slick succus mingling with the soapy water. She wished Stanley was here. She wanted to sense his strong hands on her, wanted to feel the solidness of his organic structure against hers. But, she knew, she 'd never have the courage to enjoin him what she wanted ; her spokesperson disappeared when they made love life. She 'd tried to peach to him about it at early times, but he did n't like to talk about sex. She heard him coming up the stairs. `` This sentence '', she thought. `` Tonight, I 'm going to take charge. ``

Stanley knocked on the door. `` Enter. '' she said, loving the way the word felt in her back talk. Not `` Come in '', but `` Enter ''. A command, not an entreat. Stanley pushed open the doorway backwards. He was carrying a tray, which, given her present state of mind `` I know you said you did n't desire to eat, but I brought you some juice, and a pot chocolate. I thought it might help oneself your backbone to ache less. '' Her gist welled up. It was as if he 'd scan her mind. She opened her mouth to thank him, to praise him for being so heedful, but stopped herself. If she was going to need charge, she could n't begin by fawning all over him. `` Be cool down, '' 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 articulation slightly at the end, but it was n't a motion. `` Fetch '' was not a countersign you used in a postulation. It was a news you used with servents. With a pet. It was a word of command. Henry M. Stanley seemed not to notice, and went off to the bedroom. She stepped out of the bath, and ate the drinking chocolate. The chocolate was creamy and pleasant-tasting, but she could taste the vegetal marijuana behind it, dank and sticky, like the bitch of the worldly concern female parent. She laughed at herself. `` You 're not even high-pitched 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 head. `` Fuck it, tho. I do n't like wine-colored. And tonight, I 'm getting what I want. ''

Francis Edgar Stanley returned with her bathrobe. `` Hang it up, and dry me with that towel. '' Stanley raised an brow, but he hung the robe on its sweetener, and enveloped her with the fluffy white towel. `` You 're in the quite the climate, '' he said. She knew she would chicken out if he questioned her. She turned around in his arms, and raised a finger to his back talk. `` Shush. No talking. '' He shrugged, and smiled, and continued drying her off. He knelt, drying her legs one at a time, and her heart beat fast. `` This is really happening. Stanley is kneeling at my base. '' She opened her legs a piddling, and he dried the inside of her wooden leg, but did n't take the hint. 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 potential he was into this too ?

She took his hand, and led him to the bedchamber. She was starting to panic. She had n't thought this through. She did n't fuck what to tell him. She needed to stall. She sat on the edge of the bed. `` Get unappareled. '' she said. He began to commit 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 whang. He pulled it free of the eyelet, making a satisfying swish noise. He unbuttoned his denim, and stepped out of them. He stood there in his boxers and socks. `` Those too, '' she said. `` I want you raw. '' He kicked off his socks, and pulled down his boxers, and then he started to come toward her. `` No. bide there. '' This was really the exam, she thought. Would he wait there, or would he object.

Stanley waited. He shuffled uncomfortably from foot to groundwork, looking embarrassed. He was hard, though. As intemperately as she 'd seen him in a yearn time. He reached his script to his dick. `` No. No touching yet. Tell me what you want. '' She wanted to hear him severalise her how much he wanted her. She wanted to hear him talk dirty. In her heart of hearts, she wanted to find out him beg to fuck her. ``

He shuffled, and did n't say anything. Finally he said `` I just want to entertain you. '' She felt her heart free fall, and she had to keep herself from crying. `` thoroughly old Stanley, '' she thought. `` He 's trying. He 's not a perv like me, but he 's trying. '' He must have seen her crestfallen expression, because he tried again. `` I want to make bang to you. '' but it sounded like a question. She scoured her mind. `` He 's trying. Just keep going. '' she thought. `` The correct response is'I want to please you .'Let 's try again. ''

'' narrate me what you want. ``

'' I want to delight you. ``

'' Good boy. ''

She did n't know why she 'd said it. It had just slipped out, but Francis Edgar Stanley had a stupid grin on his face, and a flush was creeping over his cheeks. `` How can I delight 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 next. Stanley seemed to show her head again. `` Not what you think I want to get a line. assure me what you want. I really do want to please you. '' and he knelt at the ft 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 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 enhance her orgasms. Performing them in a way John Rowlands seemed to care. 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 family relationship, he 'd said that he loved how responsive she was, and so she tried to restrain her own reactions dialed up to 10 all the time, despite his almost total deficiency of feedback. But now, lost in her own thoughts, she had n't been doing that. It did feel full, what he was doing, and she decided to pay back him with a footling moan. She moaned a short and spread her legs a little wider. `` Do you want more ? '' she asked, and he nodded. She thought about having him snog 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 backbone. The pot was beginning to quetch in, and she felt shimmers and ripples spreading out from his hands. `` Lower '' and John Rowlands dutifully moved from her berm to her back. `` abject '' she said, and his hands began to knead her low back. `` Lower '' she said, and she wriggled her ass for vehemence. John Rowlands began to rub her ass, and she sighed in contentment, and then shivered in excitement. 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 over her ass, writing arcane script on them. She picked his paw up and brought it down. This time he took the hint, and smacked her, making the randomness 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.

'' separate me what you want. '' `` I want to please you. '' `` No. Ask for what you want. '' `` Sophie, I want to be intimate you. '' He meant it this clock time. His voice was deep, and she could see his lecherousness in his eyes. `` No. Not yet. I want your finger's breadth first. '' She spread her legs, and he ran a finger along her wet slit. She sighed in contentment. She was enjoying this game. He probed crooking his fingerbreadth inside the way she liked. She wriggled and moaned. He pumped his finger in and out. She squirmed beneath him, trying to direct him. `` enjoin me how to delight you, Sophie. I want to please you. '' `` Push down with your palm on my clit, but do n't touch it directly. '' He complied, and she jumped. `` Do n't terminate 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, magnanimous and ridged, and she gasped as it went in, cold and slick magazine and hard. `` Lick me while you do it. '' she said, and he did, his clapper hot and wet against her clitoris while the insensate severe Methedrine cock filled her and fucked her.

'' severalize me what you want. ``

'' I want to fuck you. ``

'' Beg. ``

'' I ... fuck, Sophie, please ? Please let me sleep together you ? I want to bury my cock inside of you. delight ? ``

'' 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 heavily 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 altogether body. He came too, gasping and moaning in a way he 'd never done before `` Oh fuck, Oh gods, Oh Sophie, fucking, ass, I 'm cummmmmmming ! ``

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