My body stirs, and I wake gently to the foamy splashing noises of you washing in the shower. The sounds soothe me as I drift in and out of soft sleep, delicious dreamlike memories of last night playing in my mind. You lifting me easily up against the wall upon our return from dinner. Your lips searing kisses onto my desperate aching flesh, your tongue licking my pussy… The sound of the water spray stops and I open my eyes.
I think of you sliding out of the glass shower cabinet, glistening and squeaky clean as you reach for your towel and sling it around your sculpted hips.
I stretch out my limbs in the bed, beautiful white linens cocoon me and arousal flutters in my abdomen as I imagine you in a semi-naked state. When we made love last night, I marvelled at how well we fit together, each dip and curve finding a natural home. And I’m hungry for it again, hungry to feel your muscles skate beneath your toned skin. Hungry for all the ways you make my body yours. My ears strain to catch the sound of a movement so I can imagine what you’re doing next, but you must be holding yourself very still and silent.
I can’t resist anymore and fling the covers off, my toes still in my bedsocks and pad through wearing my thong to the bathroom. You laughed at me last night when I scampered to join you in bed with my socks on so I’d taken them off and rubbed my icy feet into your burning hot skin. You’d recoiled, shrieking at me to put them back on. Later, I’d tried to steal some of your body heat from between your thighs, but you shoved me off laughing and muttering something about getting revenge. I soon warmed up, but I do need soft cashmere on my feet to keep me cosy. My breath hitches when I see you, and I forget about taking them off and make a lunge.
Oh yes, there you are. Perfection sitting in front of the huge bathroom window, what a view indeed. The cityscape fans out behind you oblivious to what’s going on this side of the glass… or is it? A thrill cascades through me to think someone out there might be watching. A secret voyeur. I remember films where window cleaners on pull up cradles suddenly appear, and I quickly peek to check, half wishing there would be a witness, someone watching a strange couple fucking passionately. Us fucking passionately.
I roll in between your legs and start kissing you – wet sexy sounds echo through the marbled walls. I grind into you, savouring your freshly washed taste as your hands snake up to my breasts.
You cup them in your palms, running your thumbs over my nipples and release. They fall gently back into place as you slide your strong grip up my neck and entwine your fingers into...
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Read all about the wonderful author: Tabitha Rayne
What a story for one of FrolicMe’s best films! The connection between Ricky and Cherry – all so evident on the film – is portrayed brilliantly in Tabitha’s tale.