He massages my scalp, working it into a lather. He grabs a facecloth, adding shower gel and proceeds to wash me all over. He kneels in the shower, grabbing my foot and works the soap around my toes. Over and under my foot, around my ankle, making his way up my calf. Over and around my knee, he washes and massages my leg all the way to my pussy.‘Switch feet’ he tells me. He repeats the same process over again on my other leg.‘Turn around, put your hands on the wall.’He started at my shoulders, piling my hair on top of my head. He worked the soft washcloth down my arms, across my shoulders and down my back. I felt the horror of the night before melt away while he washed me. Moving in slow circles he scrubbed me clean.Reaching around me he washed my stomach gently. He reached my breasts and I felt my pussy getting tingle when he rubbed the washcloth across my nipples. I felt his hard cock sliding on my soapy ass. I held my breath. My nipples became highly sensitized and stood at. The floor was wooden and bare, but deliberately so, and not a cheap or cold feel. I put my hand on the bed, which was firm to the touch, I hate climbing onto or into a bed without knowing how it might respond. But before I could take in any more of my surroundings, Emily put herself in my arms, lifted her head towards mine and, after a moment or two of looking as deeply into my eyes as she could possibly have done, our mouths met. They locked, not with aggression, but with insistent passion all the same, tongues exploring, teeth nibbling lips, bodily fluid passing between us with no questions ask and no quarter given. Emily was, literally, drinking from my mouth and asking the same of me from hers. Em climbed onto the bed in a kneeling position, and had me stand in front of her, our heads still level with each other, the kiss broken for no time at all between changes of position. I leaned forward and lifted her sweater over her head, and followed it immediately with her t-shirt.
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