I washed her hair and leaned in as close as I dared to breathe in her scent. I lifted the porcelain pitcher and poured the water over her head, cascading her hair down her shoulders and back. With her head tipped and her eyes closed, I imagined her mouth and eyes open and waiting to receive my growing erection as I offered it to her from under my skirts without hesitation. She would wrap her eager fingers around my cock and harden me with her tongue quickly, afraid of losing time in theatrics and being caught by her husband. I imagined gathering her up in my arms, slippery and dripping with more than just water, and carrying her to their silk and wool sheets. I would entwine my legs with hers, sweep the hair off her neck and make her coo as loud as I dared as I thrust myself into her pink delicate folds. Safe in her embrace, we would roll, tumble, and laugh, as I dipped my tongue and fingers into forbidden spaces until she moaned and carried me away with her.

The only place I was really safe was in my tiny cold room. There were no lights but I never needed help finding myself under the yards of cotton. Hired before I finished elementary school, I was exceptionally proficient in needlework. She picked me out of the lineup of new girls and after working my way up over 10 years, I became her Lady Maid. With bright eyes, high voice, no desire for partnerships, and little body hair, I was always blessed with being passable.

I scrubbed her vigorously with the floating soap and the coarse sponge. Her breasts hung heavy on her broad frame and her belly swelled with her first. My fingers busied over her shoulders, churning in bubbles which she delighted at every time. Her dark nipples hardened under my touch, or maybe the cool air, but they paralleled my own growing hardness. I did not dare to linger. She spread her legs for me as I diligently washed over her stomach and between her legs. She did not skip a beat telling me all about the township gossip. I did notice her hands grip the sides of the tub a little firmer.

This was his room too. The smells of them mixed together when I cleaned their sheets made me mad with desire. Countless time, I’d imagined taking my Lord’s cock into my hands and spitting to moisten as I stroked him rhythmically. I would tease his balls with my fingertips as I licked and sucked on them, only to flick the tip of my tongue over his puckered, star creased anus. I imagined being bent over the four poster bed and entered while indulging my hunger in his Lady. After he was satisfied, I would finish myself in her sweet pussy, dripping his aftermaths and mine into her, mixing us all together.

I washed her back with slow, delicate strokes. Her skin was silk under my fingertips and the sound of the dripping water filled my ears. I soaked my sponge in the lukewarm water and then squeezed it over her naked flesh. Without missing a stroke, I painstakingly bunched my plain black dress and white apron around my waist and loosened my binding cloth to free my cock from its confines. I pushed my hardness up against the cast iron tub and relished in the rough textured coolness. With each wash of her back, I ground into the tub imaging it was her sweet spot. The side of the tub was slippery with my precum and my body shivered with anticipation.

The currents wrapped me in their pleasure with each wave hitting me like white-hot flashes of electricity. I closed my eyes and stilled my breath as I came, pushing against the tub a little harder to intensify the sensations as I let my excitement erupt freely and pour down the side of the tub. I quietly sighed, waiting for my heart to return to normal before daring to open my eyes.

“George! I’m almost ready! Get out! Honestly! Can you believe that?!” I barely registered her melodic voice over the sound of my heart pounding louder in my ears as she scolded her husband. I quickly opened my eyes only to catch the last of the bedroom door closing and the audible click that made my stomach churn. Looking down, could see my cock still hard and my hot seed pooling and growing sticky on the front of my dress and bare legs.

“Yes, ma’am. Is the Lady done in the bath?” I stammered and straightened myself which tumbled my skirt over my softening dick as she moved to standing. I rinsed down her back and legs one last time and with the remaining amount water in the pitcher, I splashed it onto the front of my dress.

Masturbation Monday
Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked