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| James and Francesca
By: Cynthia "Sweetie where are you?" "I'm in the bathroom, I'll be out in a minute." Francesca laid in bed looking around the large, ornate bedroom she shared with James. The walls were creamy white with the most beautiful rustic hardwood floor imaginable. Several large and expensive paintings hung on the walls -- she had picked them out. And beside the large cherrywood dresser, a wedding portrait. The furniture in the bedroom was plush and matched her husband's fondness for a western motif. The bed was simple and elegant; the sheets, satiny against her beautifully long legs. She suddenly found herself staring out the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows that filled the room with a soft luminous glow as the sun set every evening in the westward sky. "The month is almost over," Francesca thought to herself as she lay there, her sheer purple night gown adorning her lovely shoulders. James always liked it when she wore it. She breathed in deeply and closed her eyes, resting her body against the headboard. The air was filled with a sweet, slightly musky fragrance. Francesca smiled as she drew in her husband's scent. But her smile suddenly grew long as she began to think about the subsequent days to come, James' bags in the corner of the room, packed with personal belongings, served as a constant reminder that their short break was almost over, and tomorrow, her husband would be off to some remote location on yet another one of his seemingly endless tours. She tried to be with him as much as possible, but it was often hard with the kids at home. Yet still, the memories of the last month with James made her smile. Rolling over at night in her own bed and feeling the warmth of her husband's body lying next to her, the sweet smell of his cologne and aftershave in the morning, staring into his beautiful, smokey blue eyes as they made love into the night. Even the simplest things like laundering his clothes and cooking his breakfast, things normal people did, made her feel happy. But that would all change tomorrow. "Where is he?" she whispered to herself impatiently, throwing the covers off to one side, exposing her lovely smooth legs. The hardwood floor creaked beneath her bare feet as she tip toed down the short hall to the bathroom. Francesca recognized the familiar sound of running water as she approached the door. "I'll be out in a minute, Fran -- right after my 20 minute shower," she said to herself, shaking her head. Reaching out her hand, she grasped the door knob and turned. The hinges moaned slightly as the door opened. A whisp of warm steam brushed her face as she entered the doorway. There, on the opposite side of a pane of frosted glass, she saw him. His back was turned to her, his head and body submerged beneath a cascade of warm running water. Francesca watched for a moment as his body moved within the confined space of the shower stall, completely unaware that a set of familiar, yet prying eyes was upon him. Francesca closed the door behind her ever so quietly. At her feet, a simple pair of blue jeans lay in a pile on the floor, along with a loose fitting white t-shirt with a small cross-like emblem positioned stratigically across the chest -- one of many he had in his possession. James remained unaware of his wife's presence until a cool draft of air from the opened door crept across his exposed skin. "What are you doing?" he said, turning off the water and sliding the shower door open just enough to poke his head out. His hair was wet and began to curl slightly at the ends. His body was dripping, every curve, every muscle, every bulge glistening under the soft translucent light from the vanity. Francesca ignore his words and stared at him. She couldn't help but admire his shockingly blue eyes that pierced right through to the core of her. She watched as a droplet of water gathered at the tip of his pristine nose and fell to the shower floor. He pressed his full, sultry lips together as his wife's longing eyes traved down his elongated neck and chest. She observed the beautiful arwork that adorned his sinewy arms. His hips were tight and statuesque, his legs long and lean. She could taste his body on her lips from across the room. Slowly, seductively, she moved toward James, her hands accentuating her hips with every flowing step. Throwing open the shower door, she pulled her husband close, her hands sliding over his shoulders and down his long, muscular torso. The touch of his skin, the musky sweet aroma that followed him around everywhere he went, the feel of every muscle in his body tense with anticipation made her wet. In one violent motion, she pushed James backward into the shower and against the back wall, pressing herself against his bare skin, taking in his scent greedily as she bit a tender spot of his flesh on his neck. Her body quivered in his arms as James' lips began to quench her insatiable thirst for his body. His hands began to wander, down her body, past her hips, and underneath her gown. She writhed with pleasure as James fondled her through her silken panties. As his fingers worked their way between the fabric and her body, Francesca dug her fingernails into the soft flesh of his shoulders. As James' fingers began to explore her body, Francesca traced the small ink cross on her husband's chest with her fingertips, down his abdomen and past his navel, stopping strategically at the hard bulge that had formed between his legs. James rested his head againt the tiled wall as Francesca laped at the dropletts of water that gathered down the side of his neck with her tongue, her hand massaging his body with smooth rhythmic motions. Just as quickly as she started, Francesca stopped and took a small step back. James looked at her with confusion. "What's wrong?" he asked. Francesca said nothing, only smiled. Her eyes wandered from James, aroused and wanting, to the fauced on the shower wall. Suddenly, she reached out and grabbed the handle, showering them in a cascade of warm water, her satiny purple gown now translucent and clinging to every curve of her body like a second skin. As the water came down, James pulled the purple gown over his wife's head and let it fall to the floor in a wet heap, exposing her full, beautiful breasts. He slid his wife's satiny panties down her long, fair legs, and she kicked them to the side along with the gown. James and Francesca stood under the water, pressing their bodies, their lips, their flesh together. "Fuck me," she begged as James began to take exclusive control of the situation. "I'm in charge now, not you," he said with a wink and a smug grin to take the bite from the harsh, commanding words. James wrapped his fingers around the curves of her hips and drew her close. She sighed a passionate sigh as she felt his body penetrate hers. James suddenly turned and pushed her body against the shower wall with such force, it made her gasp. Francesca wrapped her legs around his hips as he pounded her body against the slippery wet tiles. Together they made their way to the shower floor. The water trickled down on James' back as he kissed and sucked at his wife's breasts with a skilled tongue. She dug her fingernails into his sides as he moved his body in and out, faster and faster until she gasping and panting out loud. He pressed his mouth against hers, their tongues mingling in a seductive dance of raw, unadulturated passion as her body stiffened and contorted erotically. "God, James..." She cried out in one last desperate gasp of ectasy. The feeling of his wife's body undulating with passion and satisfaction only fueled his desire for her. He sad down on the shower floor and beckoned her to come. Francesca mounted James, seated upright in the corner of the shower stall, his long legs bent slightly at the knees. James sighed as he felt his wife's body lower onto his. He closed his eyes, enjoying the warm water, the seductive scent of their sexual encounter, Francesca's tight slick body around his most sensitive parts. She pressed her mouth against his, letting her toungue trail down the side of his neck. She bit her teeth into the meat of his shoulder, sending mixed sensations of pain and raw, lustful pleasure rushing all throughout his body. Francesca moved her body up and down, increasing the pace as she felt her husband's breathing grow hard and labored, his muscles rigid with sexual tension. James threw his head back, his large Adam's Apple bulging beneath the delicate skin of his throat. Francesca sucked at it gently, flicking him with a soft tongue as James came hard inside of her with a deep, euphoric moan. His muscles, moments before stiff and wrought with carnal tension, now relaxed and pliable as he fought to catch his breath. "I hope the kids didn't hear us," he said with a chuckle. He reached up with his long arm and turned the water off still seated in the corner of the stall. "Me too," Francesca said, holding James close for warmth as the water began to evaporate from her skin. "Wow," he said, draping his strong, muscular arm around her shoulders and drawing her close. "Is that my going-away present?" Francesca said nothing, just looked at James and smiled. END |
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