The Bath

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I have a rather personal question, if you don’t mind my asking. Are you shaved? I believe you know what I’m asking… have you trimmed yourself neat, lately? It is such a bother, isn’t it? Such awkward angles, so many little nooks and crannies. You primp and preen so many others, wouldn’t it be nice if someone would just pamper you? Would you mind… If I were to lend a hand? Take mine, please…come with me.

I take your jacket and set it on a chair. Gently I take your arm in mine and lead you to a small cozy bedroom. The colors are subdued.. the windows, you notice, are partially draped, late afternoon sun throws warm darts of light across a thick quilt. It looks warm, softened by years. Water is running somewhere, you hear it. You start to unbutton your silky blouse but I stop you. You, My Lady, are not to lift a finger. I turn you to face me with a soft touch on your shoulder, you step back, feel the bed covers at your thighs and sit. I smile, kneel in front of you and slip off your shoes. Encasing each foot in turn with my broad hands, I knead them gently. You know I work my hands hard… they are strong. You feel the strength in them but they are gentle…Oh so gentle. Caressing each foot as if it were fragile as a dove. My hands slide up the back of your jeans, stopping to feel the tension in your calves. Up slowly over your thighs… sliding with open palms.

I continue upward over your hips to your belt. I examine the leather, testing it with the ball of my thumb. Pulling the loose end out of the loops.. I release the buckle, find the top button and open it with a flick of my finger and thumb. My other hand slides over your thigh to join the first, together they drag the zipper down. Water is still running, somewhere. I start with your blouses’ third button, the first two are already open. Looking you directly in the eyes, my fingers dance over each button. Your shirt falls open. You start to stand, again I stop you.. I lay you back gently on the soft quilt… shafts of sunlight play over you. Warm and cool stripes of sun and shadow play across you. Your blouse lies open, I unbutton each cuff. My fingers brush against yours, they’re warm against your palm. I gently tug your shirttail out of your open jeans.

You lay back, feeling the sunlight on exposed skin. Placing one hand at the small of your back, I lift just enough to slide your jeans off your behind, pushing them over your hips with my other. I move to your feet, grasp a pant leg in each hand and tug. Both your feet find their way free. I fold your jeans neatly and set them on a nearby chair. Next I lift you to sitting just long enough to slide your blouse off your shoulders, holding you by the elbow, I remove each arm from it’s sleeve, My fingers are pendik escort warm and dry against you. I fold your blouse, it joins your jeans. My fingers find their way under your bra straps at each shoulder and gently slide it off. You modestly cover your breasts with folded arms. I hold an elbow in each hand and lay you back onto the quilt again. I hold your calf in my open palm and remove a sock, then the other. They join the pile on the chair. You hope I am as aware of the running water as you are… Not to worry. Everything is well in hand.

My palms rest for a moment on your thighs, then slide around and under each leg, under your butt. I find the waist band of your panties and in one easy gentle motion you are ready for your bath. I smile at you. The pile on the chair is complete.

You’ve grown comfortable on the soft quilt, wish to enjoy it’s warmth for a moment… But I extend my hand to you. You lazily allow me to bring you to standing, next to me. I lead you across a polished wood floor, smooth under your bare feet, to a door. The sound of water comes from behind the door. I open it to a darkened room. Steam, in great swirling wisps, escapes from within. You smell cinnamon and cloves, other spices too rare to identify. As you step into the room your eyes adjust to the subdued light, candle light, lots of them. The bath smells as exotic as a rain forest, rich with steam and spice. I step in front of you and turn the water off. The large claw-foot tub is filled within a foot of its rim. I swirl my hand down through mounds of scented bubbles, testing the temperature. Perfect. Hot, but not too. I extend my hand and steady you as you test the water with one naked foot. Oh!… it is hot, but not too. You put one arm over my shoulder and allow me to ease you in.

Each inch of your skin tingles as it is immersed. You gingerly seat yourself… down… down.. into the ethereal bubbles, until you feel the sting of almost too hot water flow over your nether parts, creating sparks. With my arm behind your shoulders, I ease you deeper into the foam. The water covers your belly, your forearms, and finally your breasts. Your nipples sting on contact with the spicy froth. Wonderful! You become accustomed to the hot liquid spice and feel every fiber being drained of the cares of a long day. Intoxicating steam fills your nose. I turn to a vanity behind me, retrieving a thick bath cloth and a decanter of glistening gold fluid. Returning to kneel beside your bath I immerse the cloth and pour a small sparkling pool of soap into the rich terry cloth.

With only a few folds the cloth blossoms into rich lather. I take your hand in the cloth and wash it, between each finger, caressing your palm, wrist, and forearm. Long gentle maltepe escort strokes up and over your arm and shoulder. I lift your arm with my free hand and soap the under side, the tender side, everywhere. I encase your entire arm in a rich lather, from finger tips to arm pit. I ease it into the water and do the other arm. I rinse the cloth in the bath, you feel it tickle your leg, so relaxed you do not react. I repeat the lathering across your neck and chest. Down over each breast, soaping each nipple. the spicy soap tingles. I reach behind me for another crystal decanter, dip it into the water and rinse the foam from your chest, steaming rivulets leave you wet and shiny. I gently place an arm behind you, lean you forward, your skin is soft, slippery. I wash your back and shoulders, and rinse the soap with another decanter of water. Cascading over each shoulder, the back of your neck. I ease you back into your bath. You sink deep into the scented water.

I move around to the head of the tub, behind you. Making a visor with my open hand I shield your eyes and pour a full decanter of clean water through your hair. I reach for a small crystal vial, emptying the rich pearly shampoo into my palm. A lather forms thick gloves over my hands. I transfer it to your dark hair, separating wet ropes of hair with my fingers. I work your tresses gently, finally finding your scalp with my finger tips. Massaging deeply I cover every inch of your head. Working my fingers right down to your neck, ears, temples… everywhere. I swirl my hands free of the lather in your bath, inadvertently grazing your breast… so sorry. I reach full length over you to turn on the warm water and open the drain. You hear the gurgling as the rich foam settles. I fill the decanter time and again… rinsing your hair until it squeaks. Retrieving one last small vial.. I work a rich fluid deep, softly preserving your hair’s natural shine. Luxurious hair.

Although you protest mildly, I stand you up and rinse you with a handheld shower. Re-lathering the cloth I soap your lower back, reaching around to your front I wash your flat stomach. Lower, I wash your thighs, behind and legs. I rinse and wash the inside of each leg.. right up to the soft lips of your vagina. I cup the cloth over your mound and gently press the curly hair. I rinse you with the handheld shower. You radiate a crimson tan, sparkling in the candlelight, clean, warm, and relaxed. My shirt is soaking wet from my work. I strip it off, tossing it aside. Your bath at an end, I offer you my hand helping you out of the tub. Only now, as I pat you dry with an oversize blanket of thick terry, do you notice a small upholstered chair next to the tub. I take another warm towel and drape the chair, kartal escort offering you a seat.

You sit, watching me warily as I busy myself at the vanity. I have open a small side drawer and retrieve a cake of scented shaving soap with its own lathering brush, a silver razor, and a small pair of silver scissors. You watch me with growing apprehension as I inspect the razor, frown, and insert a fresh replacement. I turn to face you and you begin to shake your head in disbelief. I nod and give you a smile. I again kneel in front of you, having arranged all my barbering tools within reach. The vanity basin fills with steaming water. I hold the shaving cake under the hot stream until it gives up a white layer of soap. With the brush I work the surface to a rich cream. I take the edge of the towel you are sitting on and gently pull your cute fanny to the edge of the chair. You shudder involuntarily, but give me a trusting smile.

I gently lift your leg, draping it over my shoulder. Using the silver scissors, I trim with careful snips. Reducing the luxurious growth to a neatly manicured mat. I brush the loose hairs away with my fingers, I hear you groan ever so softly. Patience, my Dear. I whip the soap a second time until I’ve produced a near dry foam. With the soft brush I cover your entire mound and vagina with a rich warm lather. The brush touches you with an electric sensation. I work the lather a bit longer than necessary, I like the way it makes your hips move with anticipation. I lay my fingers fully on your mound of trimmed hair, my thumb alongside your lips and wipe a clean path . I use a steady practiced hand to draw the razor over the soft fold of skin between thigh and pussy. My thumb protects your sensitive vaginal lips, pressing them to one side. The razor leaves slick smooth skin in its wake. With each stroke more of your beautiful maidenhead is exposed to my gaze. My intense attention to your pussy has generated a fine layer of lubricant of your own making. My thumb slips luxuriously along your wet slit.

I capture your wet lips between forefinger and thumb, stretching out the folds of sensitive skin. I rid the pink skin of all fine hairs, leaving you bare, save for a narrow trimmed brow. You spend copious fluid over my fingers, you literally drool. I love it. As hard as you try not, your hips move with sensuous abandon. Oh… I am enjoying this as much as you! With another warm wet cloth I blot away any remaining foam and your excess secretion. I admire my handy work. A gorgeously shaved vagina has no equal, and yours, my Dear, is stunning! I trace the bare contours with my fingertips, lightly. You moan deeply, fully aroused by this exercise. My finger finds the slippery opening, I enter you with ease. I hear you gasp, sucking breath through clenched teeth. I draw my finger from you and lick the shimmering fluid. With my hands supporting your thighs you are fully exposed to me. You use your heels on my back to draw me in. You need release… Now!!

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