Hey, you there, with your beautiful smile. I can see you.
Would you care to join me for a bath?
One that’s foamy and oh so nice and warm?
A bath gives comfort and loves us.
We are able to be in the bath.
From a true love bubble, to a multiple.
All I really want for you right now, is to wash me.
‘How would you like to do that’?
You choose the perfect sponge (and I choose you, all over again).
One that’s soft and full of love, and where soap can be just how soap is meant to be, soapy.
As if that sponge itself says ‘fill me’.
Or maybe it’s me who asks you: ‘(ful)fill me’.
With your everything.
Do you squeeze out that sponge?
Soap over my beautiful breasts, my belly, my buttocks.
Soak me in and do it well?
After all, to wash good is to wash it all.
You know that and I feel that.
Nice and slowly you go with that sponge over my body. Fuck. This is sexy. My nipples are hard and you wash softly. The sponge rotates. Round and around and around and around we go.
We don’t talk. Just look. At each other. That makes it so extremely horny.
You carefully let me stand in front of you, with stretched legs. So that you can see and serve me well.
With much love and all of my pleasure I pose for you. I can keep this up for hours and I know you too.
It is a bathing ritual of love, of a blissful kind of us.
The kind of us I sometimes forget there is.
I bend towards you and touch your lips, gently lick your tongue. And you lick back. Somewhat harder.
You turn me around and wash my pussy. With the sponge you touch my labia and you make spinning movements around and on my clitoris.
From front to back. You go.
With your fingers in me.
I feel you deeper and deeper.
I also have a kind of sponge (inside of me). Do you feel that?
Yes, there. Continue.
I want to make you soaking wet.
And by that I don’t mean by the bath water.
It’s the kind of wet where your belly gets all shiny in a sweet oily way, and maybe if I squirt the right way, your face too.
It is the kind of wet you lick your lips at.
And why wouldn’t you? I do (you) too.
All artwork by Puck Rietveld