Page 33 of The Leaves In Autumn
“Or in the box. Pricks and pussies.”
“If you start talking about your pussy, I will have a spontaneous orgasm.”
“I wish you would. I’d love to see it. We could go on the road, and you could perform at county fairs.”
“What would you do to earn your keep?”
“I’m theLyontamer, of course. I’ll carry the whip and crack it on your ass whenever you need a little discipline.”
We reach the third floor. Taking her in my arms, I stop all talk, and kiss soft full lips that know how to please whatever they touch. Tonight, they kissed away some of the darkness. Sounds like therapy speak. The four sessions might be helping. Maybe. Still haven’t said it all. Not completely.
I put a finger to my lips, and we quietly enter the hallway and move to the room. Taking the fob, I open the door and let her pass. The pristine space, with the big bed, awaits us. No suitcases or toiletries scattered about. It is just us, friends helping each other through the night.
“Want to shower? The chlorine in my hair needs to be gone. I would rather you smell shampoo.”
My answer is to lose the robe. She does the same, I give her ass a slap, and we move to the bathroom. I offer a consideration.
“Want to set the temperature you like? The hotter the better for me.”
“I like it a little on the cooler side. But either way works. You pick.”
There is a momentary pause and then we start laughing.
“Who are these people?” I say not recognizing us.
“I don’t know, but they are awfully polite.”
“Listen, Barbra. I don’t want us to be different with each other. I like who we have always been.”
“Me too. There is no reason to become other versions of ourselves when we like the original models.”
“Okay then. Good. I will continue to be charming, and you continue pissing me off with surprise parties for your movie star friends.”
She sets the water temperature and holds a hand underneath to test.
“And I will make sure to keep teaching you how to unclench your ass, and you stay acting like you are a pissed off eighty-year-old.”
“Deal.”
She throws arms around my neck and goes up on her tiptoes.
“I can almost reach your lips this way.”
I lift her and she wraps legs around me, pussy to torso.
“I can almost reach yours. Those,” I say looking down.
I open the shower door and carry her inside. But I don’t let go, as I position her under the water’s stream. Her head leans back, thoroughly wetting both sides.
“This is the way I want to shower every day, Mr. Lyon. You’ll need to clear your schedule.”
She smiles then kisses me. Slowly, deeply. My dick. It rises. Setting her down, I respond to the desire by soaping my hands and moving them over her beautiful body. Arms first. Then torso and legs. The perfect pussy. When my hands find her ass, they move slower, gentler. I wash her while looking into her eyes. Between her crack, a finger at her asshole, I linger. She likes it and so do I. My dick is hard as fuck.
Now breasts pull my attention. The aureolas, nipples, the weight of them in my hands. They could not be more perfect. My middle finger flicks a nipple. Then I turn her toward the shower head and come up close behind. Pressing myself against her body, my arms under hers, I use my fingers and palms to rinse the suds away. I take extra time between her legs, within the folds of her sweet silky pussy.
“Let me wash your hair.”
She stays facing the tile, as I squeeze the shampoo in hand. It lathers in the long hair, and I massage it through.
