The door slammed shut. Surprise, I turned around and saw you there, beautiful as always, except for the fact that you were soaking wet from head to toe. The drip of water from your clothes and the roof eaves was punctuated by a loud sneeze from you. Putting the pan down from the cooktop, I guessed you had forgotten your umbrella at work. January rains are the worst by far, and this one seemed to have soaked you to the bone.

“How disgusting,” you sighed as another sneeze exploded from your nose.

“Come here, darling,” I began, “let’s get you out of these clothes.”

Taking off your coat and dress, I pointed you to the bathroom and started to run you a hot bath. You sat on the toilet and blew your nose as the bath oils entered the running water. Slipping off your bra, your breasts sprang free and seemed to sigh with relief. The tub was now full, and the sparkling bubbles shimmered in the light of the candles I had lit for you. When I turned to look at you, you were there sitting with your hands between your knees, and you looked at me sadly in the eyes.

“I suppose you’re taking it hard, huh?”

Taking your hand, I pulled you to your feet, pulled down your black thigh-high socks, and helped you step into the crashing bubbles.

Just as you slipped under the waves and let the warm liquid caress your aching muscles. Seeing you safe and relaxed, I kissed you on the forehead and headed to the kitchen to make you a cup of hot chocolate. On the way, I stopped and turned on the stereo, and selecting a jazz CD, started the music. The sweet warble of a saxophone came from the speakers and began to fill the rooms with a relaxing melody.

Branford Marsalis… “Perfect,” I thought. “Tonight, everything must serve to make you feel better.”

After the hot chocolate was steaming, I put a small shot of Godiva chocolate liqueur in the cup and brought it to you. As I entered the bathroom, you glanced at me and smiled for the first time tonight. “Thank you; you always know how to make my day.”

At those words, I leaned down and kissed you, then placed the cup in your hands. You brought the cup to your lips and took a sip of the drink. When you brought it down, it left a brown stain on your lip, and I smiled at the sight.

“I think I’m done now, darling,” you said as you began to get out of the water. The color had returned to your skin, taking on the healthy look of a pale pink rose. Not wanting you to catch a cold, I wrapped my heavy cotton robe around your shoulders. I laughed at the stray bath bubbles that had stuck to your nipples and, after hanging there for a moment, fell onto the carpet. Closing the robe around you, we went into the living room and I had you sit in front of the crackling fire.

Sitting behind you, I began to massage your shoulders. This drew a sweet moan, almost like a contented cat, from you. My fingers kneaded your flesh under the robe as the fire cast a warm glow on your perfect skin. You turned your head, kissed me on the cheek, and asked for one of my massages. Never being able to deny you anything—especially if I enjoyed it too—I placed a cushion on the rug near the fireplace and had you lie down on your stomach.

The saxophone in the stereo hit a high note as I slipped the robe from your shoulders and rested it on your wonderfully curved buttocks. I rubbed my palms together both for effect and to reduce the chance they would be too cold for your warm skin. “Right, I think,” I said, and lowered them to your waiting nape. Your flesh welcomed my fingers and embraced them with its sweet warmth. My fingers worked the muscles of your neck, digging deep to find the knotty flesh.

Slowly, my fingers radiated around the back of your neck and under both your ears, massaging gently, working your skin, drawing small circles with each finger in its place. Moaning in acceptance, you raised your arms and rested your head on them, cradling it and leaving your sides open. I caught the hint and lowered my hands to your shoulder blades, feeling the contrast between bone and firm, soft flesh on my fingertips, and then began to work the muscles of your back, feeling all the knots that had developed there gently dissolve.

I rested my thumbs on either side of your spine and radiated my fingers to your sides, kneading the flesh there. Feeling your skin made me sigh as well. I had never seen such perfect skin—so malleable, so willing to give back and caress my fingers in return for their hard work. The lower I went toward your lower back and the top of your buttocks. This is a particularly beautiful part of your body, and I lowered my lips and placed a kiss on the upper part of your buttocks. You emitted a sound of approval in response, and I gave you a playful lick at the top of your intergluteal cleft, which drew a Mmmmm from you.

I grabbed a handful of gluteal cheek in each hand and began to knead them. You have such a beautiful ass that I devoted extra time to its well-being and made my kneading fingers go around and around. Soon, the unexpected happened. I noticed that wonderful, familiar musky scent that signals your heat. Opening your legs slightly, I saw that indeed moisture was creeping from your folds. Your legs opened more, and you whispered, “Lower, dear; I need you.”

Not wanting to deny you anything that could make you feel good, my fingers ran between your legs and began to tickle where your outer lips met your inner thighs. This made your legs close rapidly, trapping my hand near your wet pussy. “Ahhh,” you panted as my naughty hand made good use of its captivity and rubbed up and down your soft folds. With a moan, your legs opened again, and I laid a finger inside your lips. Feeling your moisture and your heat, I slid my finger down to the hidden pearl of your clitoris and then slid back up to tickle your anus.

“Please, take me,” you growled. “I need you now.”

Not being one to deny his lover a wish, I opened my robe, and your hand reached back and gave my cock a stroke. “Ooohh yes, I want it.”

Still lying on your stomach, you spread yourself, and I approached. My cock parted your lips, and I slid it up and down in your warm wetness, feeling the nectar of your loins greet my rod. When I thought I was sufficiently lubricated, I slowly pushed into your pussy.

Not content with that, you quickly raised your ass, and I was enveloped by you in an instant.

“Aaaaaahh,” we both panted instantly; to this day, I swear I have never felt such a sensation. There has never been a pussy that felt like yours—as if we were made for each other, two pieces of a puzzle that fit perfectly. Quickly, you lowered your hips onto the rug and back up to meet me. You were intent on creating as much heat as possible, wanting that quick orgasm. Catching the hint, I grabbed your hips and pulled you toward me.

The faster we moved, feeling the heat rise, the pressure build. Your buttocks hit my thighs, my balls swung to the rhythm of our thrusts. Soon I felt the contractions I knew all too well inside you. Moving my hips faster, I tried to match your rhythm, wanting to come and go with you. Our rhythm was reaching a crescendo, and in an instant, I felt you suspend yourself slightly, and your inner muscles contracted, holding me.

In that moment, my body also contracted, and a stream of my hot seed erupted in you. Uuuungnnngggggggg, we both panted, our muscles contracting and our hips continuing to make milking motions, milking the last sensation from each other.

I slowly lowered you back onto the rug, being careful not to disengage from you. Then, rolling onto your side, you pulled me toward you, and we embraced, then kissed. Reaching down, I pulled up the rumpled robes over our bodies, and we lay there, feeling the fire cook our afterglow.

“Maybe we can call in sick tomorrow, both of us,” I said.

You simply smiled and kissed me again as we both fell asleep with the crackling fire and the sweet jazz serenading us.