This article is all you need to know about Self Care!
It had been a terrible week. My moves on the new guy had gone unanswered, which was completely understandable seeing as he had a girlfriend. She came to pick him up after work and when I saw her I just went back home with my hopes crushed to a mush. If I wanted to get some action soon I would definitely have to start a Tinder account.
I decided that it was the day to tend to myself for a bit, so I filled the bathtub with hot water, added my favorite bath salts to the rising tide and lighted the scented candles I had around the bath.
I undressed in the bathroom full of steam. I looked at myself in the mirror and admired my curves. I loved my body, but I had ignored it as of late. My last breakup had turned my libido down and it had been months since I last touched myself. But my body deserved more than that; I deserved to take pleasure from myself.
I put my feet into the hot water and felt myself relax immediately. I slowly descended until my waist was covered. The water made me feel like I was in a cloud, tucked up but voluptuous and naked inside the cotton cushion I imagined it to be. I took some water with my hands and I poured it over my bust. The drops tickled when they descended, going around my nipples. That feeling opened the door to memories I thought forgotten. I remembered the last time someone had touched me so gently. I missed that feeling, so I started to mimic the memories.
I stroked my breasts, still contemplating my body. I caressed and pinched my nipples. When I took my hands away, the water quickly went cold, stiffening those sensitive buttons. I let myself slip down into the water until only my head was left above it. My imagination went back to my memories, to the way her hands made me feel indispensable, her mouth, irresistible.
My temperature was rising and it wasn’t just because of the water. Without noticing, I had started to caress my stomach, remembering her fingers tracing my body. When I moved I generated small currents that stroked me as if they were her fingers. In my head, the scenes were being played one after the other. The next one was of her descending over me until her lips devoured my thighs.
Steam condensed on my skin and the drops ran down my neck, like damp caresses. I opened my leg. The warm water touching my sex reminded me of her tongue. The wetness and my fingers helped me to continue my fantasy.
I started stroking my labia, moving slowly inward. I remembered how she used to put her fingers inside me, while she kissed me between my breasts. My fingers followed the same path, exploring. I remembered how she used to move them, finding that spot that made me moan and hug her against me. I had hardly put my fingers in myself when I found that same spot.
I arched my back, asking for more. I remembered how I devoured her mouth when she started to touch my clitoris with her other hand. How she knew how to continue with her lips what she had started with her fingers at the exact moment. The hand that wasn’t busy inside of me slipped to that little notch of pleasure. I started to gasp and I bit my lips.
I remembered how at that point I wouldn’t be able to see anything but her hairline bobbing up and down with the impetus of her licking. My fingers matched the speed of her imaginary tongue and I felt myself getting closer and closer to the grand finale.
My fingers accelerated even further. My body was tensed across the bathtub, my toes curled tight. And then suddenly, the release. I unfolded and my muscles relaxed back to a state in concordance with the warmth of the water.
I stayed in the bath for a bit longer, enjoying the warmth that remained. I washed my body, smiling to myself. My frustration had disappeared and I was sure that it would not come back for a while.
Who needs a date with a stranger when you can have it with yourself?
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Original post https://vocal.media/filthy/me-myself-and-i-7
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