What Might Have Been

You enter the hotel suite and drop your bags. Travel weary, you look up. Your eyes note the sprawling bed occupying half the room, slide past the sunken garden tub, and settle on me. 

Naked, I kneel next to the tub, sitting back on my heels, arms clasped behind my back, so that the steam from the tub swirls up and around my breasts, caressing my face.  Our eyes lock, and the ephemera of everyday life melts away. Time. Distance. Nothing matters. All that remains is you, and me, and the palpabale want between us.

You cross the room, shedding your shoes and shirt, and stand before me barefoot, bare chested, and absolutely glorious. Your scent floods me with a thousand memories and makes me weak. You stand over me, eyes boring into mine, and reach out to take my hand. I stand, and with a flick from your eyes, unbuckle your pants, stripping you of the last of your clothes and together, we step into the swirling, knee-deep water.

Your hands find my face, pulling me too you. Your mouth devours mine. We are so beyond hungry for one another that we’re shaking. Forehead to forehead, eyes closed, we slowly breathe one another in.

“Little One,” you sigh, and a shudder runs the length of my spine. With one name you have reclaimed me.

Still standing in the water, you circle me, examining me with eyes and fingers that trail over my skin, noting every change, every imperfection, every blush, every tremor. I blossom under your gaze.  Your hands find my breasts, your fingers my nipples. They stand at attention for you, pert, jutting forward, begging for your continued attention. One hand slides down my belly and nestles between my legs, feeling the heat from my pussy, the moisture that has nothing to do with the tub.

Heat courses through me. I nearly choke on my desire, but I know better than to ask. I must wait for your command. I remember well how to please you.

Your inspection complete, you kiss me lightly on the lips, and settle onto the edge of the tub. You smile at me, reading the near desperate want in my eyes, and nod. I sink to my knees in an instant, the water coming up to my breasts, the bubbles tickling them as they float on the surface. My arms wrap around your waist, and I swiftly bury your cock in my mouth. In that moment, the world is perfect. Your taste…your feel. I’ve been waiting so long to experience it again.

I pull back and smile up at you. Your eyes are closed, your face is peaceful, and then your hand finds the back of my head and pushes me back down onto your cock. With that gentle push all the permission I need, I lick and suck you in earnest. My hands roam freely, exploring your body, causing waves of goose bumps to race across your skin. All the while I consume you. Licking. Sucking. Nibbling. Burying you so deeply in my throat that I gag, over and over again. I want you. I want to taste you. I want to feel your cum spilling down my throat more than I have ever wanted anything.

Your cock grows enormously hard in my mouth, your knuckles whiten as your hand wraps tightly in my hair, your hips thrust against my mouth, my arms wrap tightly around your waist, and you cum in hot, gushing spurts down my throat, giving us both what we have been needing so badly, for so, so long.  

As your spasms subside, I lick the last drops of cum off, and nuzzle my face against you. You slide down into the tub, lift my face to yours, and kiss me. It’s neither gentle, nor hard. With one kiss you claim me body and soul. 

Tenderly, we bathe one another, towel each other dry, and curl up on the bed. Me, lying in your arms, content. You, cradling my head on your chest, sated. We drift off to sleep for a few hours, already anticipating the decadence that awaits us when we wake…