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“No.”
My eyes peeked open a bit when I felt something else. He was squirting liquid soap onto my body from some sort of bottle. The sweet, sexy aroma of coconut filled the air. This was a smell I associated with oiled up beach bodies and piña coladas. It always kind of turned me on.
Then his hand smoothed over me, lathering me up, but it was more than that. His fingers massaged the spot between my stomach and my pussy, a spot I’d never thought to be so erogenous. Strong fingertips moved down to my bikini line and the tender area between my thighs, never quite touching my pussy lips, but sliding close enough to make my heart flutter.
In what I can only imagine as a diamond shape, he brought his hands almost together, leaving his fingers in the creases between my thighs and pussy while resting his thumbs on the spot just above my clit. His index fingers walked over and pressed so close to my lips.
Hoa. Oh, yes.
A sound escaped my lips that was somewhere between a grunt and a yelp. He breathed deep and I opened my eyes to see his cock there near my ribcage. I wanted to reach out and grab it, to lather it up, but his hands were so fucking magical that I didn’t want to fuck up the moment.
His face was so close to my pussy and I silently begged for him to climb over me, straddle me, and bury his face in me. Sixty-nine had never sounded so fine. His fingers pried my pussy open just slightly and for a second I thought he might actually do it. He was going to taste my water-drenched pussy.
He didn’t. Instead, he moved up the center of my stomach and stopped below my right tit, where his fingernails softly scraped the crescent shape, running along the form of my breast.
Warm water continued to run over me from the nozzle in his other hand. No, it wasn’t warm water. It was hot, but never enough to scald, only intense enough to drive me crazy.
His hand worked its way around my tit, sliding easily over my now soapy and slippery nipples. With masterful fingers, he didn’t quite pinch my nipple, but he squeezed ever so softly. I wanted to scream.
“Oh my God,” I said. “That…yes, like that.”
His face was too hidden in the dark for me to see his expression but I imagined he must’ve been grinning. He was totally in control now. I would let him do whatever he wanted with me.
His firm grip massaged my tit, giving it so much fucking attention, attention it had never gotten from any man, not like this. This wasn’t a quick nipple licking or motorboating, this was…this…I’d died and gone to tit-loving heaven.
When his hand moved to my left tit and repeated everything I’d felt before, I bucked my hips. I didn’t mean to, but my pussy was craving that attention. His cock could enter me and his hands could still do what they were doing. Right? Why wasn’t he giving it to me?
Fuck!
His hand disappeared for a second and I thought I’d cry. Then something new. Something different. A unique feeling that tickled between my thigh and my pussy. It was light but it was strong. It was fucking unbelievable. I lifted my head and strained to see what was going on.
A paintbrush. He was painting soap onto the spot next to my pussy with a paintbrush.
Genius!
“Oh fuck!” I said.
“Your body is a masterpiece, Mandy,” he said. “I’ve always seen you that way.”
Always careful not to get soap anywhere near my actual pussy opening, he danced along the edges, setting my insides on fire. I wanted to laugh and cry and scream but all I could do was bite my lip and pray that he’d keep fucking going.
He slid the paintbrush down my thigh and lifted my right leg, resting it on his shoulder, where he smoothed the brush over the back of my knee. My leg jerked and my pussy dripped. The air from the room hit me dead on and felt cool until his other hand ran the water between my legs, dousing my pussy with hot water. It was intense.
He brought the water up to wash over my knee and then kissed me there, planting his lips on the back of my knee. His tongue slipped out from between his lips and caressed me. With my leg lifted straight up, he lowered his mouth, licking me slowly, till he was all the way down at my ass.
I heard the clang of the brush being dropped into the basket and then his hand was on me again, this time right at my pussy, dragging something kind of rough over me. It nudged at my clit.
“Ohh…ohhh,” I moaned.
That feels nice. That feels fucking great. Do that.
I reached down to touch what it was between my legs. A loofah. He was gently running a loofah up my pussy, tickling my lips and clit, the rough material not strong enough to hurt or bother, but enough to set me on edge. I lifted my ass up again, trying to put my pussy closer to his face, but he wasn’t ready for me yet, or so it seemed.
He brought the loofah up my stomach and wiped it through the remaining soap. Back to my tits.
Yes, don’t forget about my tits. The girls wanna play too. But keep the water on…yes!
He read my mind and aimed the spray of the water right at my clit.
