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By *hadesofm OP Woman
over a year ago
canterbury |
After work she drives home in the dark, vaguely aware of the moon dancing in the 9pm sky as she winds through the roads and home.
She arrives home to find her husband sat on the sofa, and toys scattered in the corners of the room. She greets him and gives him a peek on the cheek. “Evening” she says, “evening” he replies barely looking up from his phone. She can see he’s tired and not in the mood for chatting.
“I’m just gonna jump in the shower. Do I have dinner?”
“No sorry, I didn’t know if you wanted any”
“No probs. I’ll find something” she replied as she walks up the stairs stripping clothes as she does. She checks on the kids and they are both fast asleep.
Entering the shower she feels the blast of the water, pelting against her skin. She unties her hair and lets the water cascade over her naked form. Her dark brown hair now laying wet and stuck to her shoulders and her breasts, making little waves of direction down her body.
Washing her hair and her stresses away she rinses the soap suds down through her hair and over her curves. “Curves” She says outloud, yes curves. She wonders how he would feel about curves, and whether he has experience with curvy women. In her mid thirties she has curves and feels Like it’s time to embrace and celebrate those curves. Her body has certainly seen some changes over the last decade or two, but she realises that it is purely a reminder of how incredible her body is. What it’s capable of.
She stands under the warm steamy water and closes her eyes thinking back to how things were previously, she thinks of lovers who came and went, she thinks of how people used to look at her, she recalls how she was able to give pleasure to others and she relives moments of moaning, bodies grinding, screaming, heated breathing and so so much more. Her hands explore her body while she thinks back over these times and she enjoys the sensations of skin on skin, her own fingers twiddling with her nipples, her other hand sliding down to explore her sweet spot. She leans back against the cold tiles and recalls the times she’s had fun in a shower or in the rain.
She imagines him, Her tall fantasy from work, she’s always had a thing for tall men, but never younger men, yet he smells good enough to eat. She imagines biting his neck, kissing him, devouring him and pushing herself against his strong muscular body, and Her breasts pressed against his lean frame. She wonders if he would battle to take the lead. She imagines allowing him to explore her, And looking into his blue eyes as they blaze into hers. Her brown eyes would hold his graze, echoing the same burning desire that she sees. She imagines him between her legs, caressing her thighs and one hand pulling her bum closer, as he teases her pussy with his tongue. She imagines him gently just flicking the tip of his tongue over her clit, she imagines he would be gentle and take his time. But she wants him to let go of the monster inside of him, and she could show him how to do that. She imagines running her hands through his hair and telling him to suck hard, taking one hand and guiding him to use his fingers to enter her, showing him exactly what she wants and needs. Her own movements in the shower echo what she would show him, and bring her closer to the brink of orgasm, a warming aching feeling from somewhere deep inside grows and her body slams against the tiles as she convulses thinking of him seeing to her this way. She lets out a deep gutteral moan as she enjoys the moment.
She finishes washing and steps out of the shower, feeling more relaxed and guilty at the same time. She shouldn’t be thinking about young men, he is over 10 years her junior. But whenever the guilt hits she remembers the fantasies and wonders if it would be better in reality.
She wraps herself in a dressing gown and walks back down stairs in the search of food. She sees the stack of dishes by the sink and decides to opt for cereal given that it’s already 22:15.
Back to the real world, she thinks. |
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Xx
