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Standing up from my desk, I stiff-legged it into the modernized bathroom. All ceramic checkerboard tiling and chrome futures, the space quickly became my sanctuary in the new city. There was something about a nice long bath that made everything seem better.
The ducky, one of the few things I still had from my childhood, bobbed happily on the top of the suds as the tub filled with water. Pulling the stress up over my head like a t-shirt, I shed my clothes and stepped into the deep soaker tub as it was still filling, the process taking longer than I was willing to wait before I could relax.
I could feel the tension melting away as I floated suspended in the warm void. At least from my limbs and back. My poor little pussy was still as tight as ever, crying out for attention.
I had been late in life to start touching myself. I’d been convinced when I was little that it was a sin, even though I couldn’t really understand why. After a while, about the time I blew out the eighteen candles on my birthday cake, I decided that ‘because I said God said so’ just wasn’t a good enough explanation anymore.
There were times when needs demanded and I also couldn’t see why God would care. If the creator created everything, that would include the parts that were meant to feel good. By using them as they were intended was to honor God, or at least that was what I told myself when I heard my parents’ voice in my head and the guilt started to set in.
The approach was slow, as though my pussy might run away if spooked. I knew it was silly but that didn’t stop me from doing it just the same.
From stroking my hand over my hip and across my belly.
Savoring the sensation of the approach.
I’d never really appreciated how sensitive my belly was before. Not as much as my boobs, my nipples at least, but enough to help me relax and get into the spirit of things.
My thighs parted as my hand approached, my breath catching at the first touch. It felt absolutely wonderful.
I left my hand laying there for a moment, getting used to the pressure. When I was ready, I started to move. Stroking the outside of my pussy in slow, sort circles, trying to figure out what felt the best.
I blushed with the thought, amazed there was any man who could turn me on enough to make me feel the urgent need to do this. Truth be told, I would have preferred that it was his hand down there but all I could do was imagine. So, imagine I did.
My bare back pressed up against his muscular chest as Simon held me.
Cuddling me in my bed.
Our naked forms on top of the duvet.
The table lamp shedding light on the matter.
I imagined his cock, reaching full hardness, pressed up against me as his hands caressed my body, going from my breasts down over my belly. Following much the same path as I had to my pussy. I opened my legs as he approached, accepting his touch gladly.
His strong but gentle hand, soft and warm from a long career of office work, caressed me up and down before starting to move in gentle circles, stimulating my pussy lips while also giving my aching little clit some attention. It reacted immediately, making me jump a little, splashing some water onto the floor in real life, and giving poor Ducky some turbulence.
I settled back into it, picturing myself laying my head back on Simon’s chest in my mind.
Feeling his arms as they cradled me. Holding me close and keeping me still as he pleasured me. Working my tender pussy lips to the edge of ecstasy.
I’d never had an orgasm like this before and had no idea what I was in for.
Every muscle seemed to tense at once, a crackle of beige purple lightning flashing through my mind. While my fingers were still outside, I could feel my pussy getting tighter and start to tingle as I started to orgasm.
I bit my lower lip to keep from screaming out and scaring my neighbors. I wanted to howl my joy and release as years of repressed sexual energy came out all at once.
I would never be able to face my neighbors if they happened to overhear me. Despite my burgeoning sexuality, I wasn’t quite ready to be sharing it with anyone. Except Simon, of course. I might even be able to moan in front of him.
The thought made me smile, even as the familiar heat started to rise in my cheeks.
Blushing was a trained response, shame being one of the few things I had been taught, even though I could already begin to feel its hold on me slipping. I wasn’t back home in Oregon anymore, and I wasn’t that girl.
