Bathing Beauty

Bathing Beauty

    Maria went to the bathroom and ran the water in the tub. She walked over and lit a stick of Jasmine incense. The fragrance of the smoke fanned the flames of her desire. She lit a couple of candles, which were on the floor for emergencies. She smiled thinking of what her mother would think if she caught her. The risk only increased her excitement.  She walked out to her mother’s stereo in the bedroom and put in the CD of Chopin nocturnes. The soft sensuous piano music washed over her and through her. She felt as though the hands of an expert lover were stroking her as she gazed at the tub, and its steaming waters, an invitation to pleasure.
    Her mind sank into a world of fantasy. His name was Jacque. She could see his firm pecks outlined in the flickering candlelight.  He said, “My darling, come to me and let me take you
away.”
  She asked, “Monsieur, where are you taking me?”
   He looked at her with warm dark eyes and said, “I will take you down the garden path back to the original paradise, before the body became sin.”
  She walked up to him and he took her hand in his and lifted it to his face, pressing his lips into the soft skin. She said, “Take me.”
   She lifted her summer dress off, and it was his hands undressing her. As she tugged her panties across her hips, it was he. Her dark braless peaks with their rosebud tips were waiting like ripe fruit for his mouth. The dark forest at the crux of her thighs with its mother of pearl at the center, awaited his proficient tongue.  She felt so naked and vulnerable to his power. She saw his narrow hips, and toned thighs. His face reminded her of a statue of the God Apollo she had seen in the Metropolitan in New York. The curly locks of his hair hung down the sides of his neck. He almost looked feminine, though the protuberance between his legs belied this appearance.
    She stepped into the tub and felt the warm water soak into the cleft of her sex. Her imagination unreeled the scene like a movie. She was the star attraction of this cinematic fantasy. As she lay immersed in the sacred waters of this, her sanctuary of bliss, she took the sponge and felt him washing the back of her neck. He leaned over, his mouth so close to her ear that she could feel his warm breath. He whispered, “Mi amour. Surrender to me.”
   Her hands went up to her breasts, and she stroked her cherries till they were hard and erect. It was he who was compelling her to feel pleasure. She was so willing to yield to his tender touch. Each time she squeezed her nipples it was him sending tingles of warmth from her hardened cherries, coursing to her sex.
  Her palms ran the sponge down her sides and across her stomach. She felt the fever of her yearning urging her onward.  Her hands slipped inexorably downward into the shadowy region between her inner thighs. It was his fingers, circling her mons, and spiraling in trails of smoke, toward the cleft of her flower. She said, “Monsieur, please don’t tease me.”
   He whispered in her ear, “I won’t deny you. I could never deny you.”
   His words sunk into her mind, spreading warmth throughout her body. She gently ran the side of her hand along her nether lips. She flicked her clitoris with her fingertips. Her bud was pulsating with joy, as she stroked it, feeling as though it were a tiny penis and feeling his lips wrapped around the delicate shaft.
    She knew that her womb was barren, but in that moment she imagined herself fertile and ripe with egg. In her mind he joined her in the tub. She mounted him, devouring his engorged stalk deep in her womanhood. She felt her folds enfold his manhood. With each thrust of her hips she felt the collision of forces building deep in her body. She knew that Juan’s science could never explain the mystery of this quaking desire created in her body.  Such delicious spasms of pleasure she felt that her body shuddered.  And though science could explain the mechanics of conception, never would it explain the magic of the creation of life.
    In her mind she felt his magic wand throbbing in the recesses of her folds.  The smell of Jasmine mixed with his male scent and her musk, made her body alive with tingling sensations.  She plunged her fingers deep into her spring of life, feeling the fountain of his seed erupt into her.  Her inner thighs clenched around her hand pressing the fruit of her sex, as her nectar mingled with the bath water. She felt as though his body had dissolved into her, merging with her.  A strange feeling, which she had never known, overwhelmed her.  She imagined life coalescing in her womb.  Out of the essence of she and he, a new being was created.  It felt odd. On a deeper level though she felt happiness she had never known. She lay in the tub as her vision of him receded into the shadows of her mind.