The Facial

I am a very lucky girl. The kid is at camp, and the spouse went to visit his Mommy this weekend. I took this opportunity to cross a few things off my “To Do” list (sadly, you are still on it), and booked an appointment for a facial at my favorite spa.

My regular aesthetician worked her magic, and I was extremely relaxed after only a few minutes. She took her customary leave to let the various potions do their thing on my skin, and I was left in the room, alone with my imagination and the creepy new age music.

I sensed someone at the foot of the table, and I opened my eyes to see you sitting on the stool with a big grin on your face. I wanted to question your presence, but it was so welcome that I dared not for fear you would disappear. You removed the covers and pulled me to the edge of the table. Hoisting my legs to your shoulders, you were just about to demonstrate your mean pussy eating skills when my facial lady reappeared, and it became obvious you had been a dream. Shit!

I spent the rest of the day thinking about you, wondering what your tongue would have felt like between my legs.

Later that evening, I ventured to my favorite porn site and did some reading. I also worked on a few pieces of my own that are in progress. Both reading and writing get me hot, so I decided an interlude under the bathtub faucet was in order. You once told me you’d really like to see that.

I stripped off my pajamas, the striped shorts with the navy blue whales, and the solid blue top. [It takes some guts to wear whales but, then again, I am a size six.] I turned the faucet on, scooted my ass under the stream, and positioned my feet on the wall.

One nice thing about this method is the variability of the water. That is, it doesn’t just come out of the faucet in a steady stream. It jumps around a little, which results in it teasing my clit, just like a man might. This prolongs the buildup, improving the quality of the resulting orgasm.

I was planning to do the stop and start trick, optimally letting go on the 10th, but I was too turned on to get past three. When I blew, it was unbelievable, and so awesome to be able to scream the way I really wanted to. I imagined your reaction had you been here, and sighed heavily contemplating your absence.

I started wondering what we would be doing if you were here. For sure, you would be pretty turned on watching my show. I imagined you perched on the edge of the tub, reaching down to caress one of my tits, maybe kissing me once or twice. By the time I let go, your cock would already be in your hand. You’d help me out of the tub, dry me off, take my hand and lead me down the hall to the bedroom. We’d get into bed and I’d lie naked on top of you, pressing our bodies together while we kissed.

I would decide before too long that it was time to pleasure you, and I would kiss a trail all over your body. This trail would go everywhere except where you wanted it most, and when you objected I’d tell you you’d thank me later. In fact, I might even produce restraints from my nightstand to make sure you never forgot the experience.

Once you were tied up, you’d make quite the picture. Your amazing body would be on display for me to admire, and your cock would stand straight up, demanding my attention. Ignoring it, I might lick your nipples, kiss your face, position my wet snatch over your mouth, or distract you in any number of other ways from what you wanted most.

Finally I’d take your growing dick in my hand and begin licking it ever so lightly, causing you to moan in frustration. I’d ignore your protests and keep to my own maddeningly slow pace. I would not be rushed.

I might interrupt myself to lick your balls, causing you to moan involuntarily. Or maybe, just maybe, I’d give in. I’d use my right hand to slide your throbbing cock into my mouth, little by little, gently squeezing your balls in my left. While you were inside, I would draw all over you with my tongue. I’d take my mouth off and lick your underside, and you’d go wild. “Please, baby – please make me come,” you’d beg.

“I will,” I’d reply. “Be patient.”

I’d resume tonguing your cock and squeezing your balls, which were getting bluer by the moment, but I’d also squeeze your steel, making it even bigger and harder. Impossibly, you’d tell me you were getting close. God – you are such a pushover! “Come for me, baby. I want to taste you.”

I’d keep working on your cock with my hand, lowering my mouth to the perfect spot to take your sweet cum, until you let loose. I’d feel your balls contract, and hear your moan, and swallow every bit of your amazing juice.

Meanwhile, back in my house, I got out of the tub and realized I wasn’t done. As many times as I’ve employed this method, I’ve never gotten out of the tub and continued in bed, but this is exactly what I did. Because the water had washed away all my juices, I grabbed a finger full of lube and started rubbing my clit. I was so turned on, I kept saying “Oh, fuck” as I stroked myself, alone in my king-size bed. I never felt so out of control, and I liked it. It didn’t take long before a shattering orgasm overcame me, and my screams echoed through my big, empty house. Wish you were here…