The Story- Part Four

I'm back in the kitchen, stirring the minestrone. It's about finished. I finish preparing the garlic bread, spreading butter, roasted garlic and oregano, and put it in the oven. I turn to ask Astarte to set the table but she's not there. Hmm. I set it myself, light a few candles on the table and go back to the kitchen, paranoid about burning the bread. If there's one thing I consistently screw up, it's the bread. I always seem to forget it's in the oven until it's on fire. No problem this time, it comes out steaming, golden brown and fragrant. I take the bread to the table and ladle two healthy portions of minestrone into bowls. As I bring the soup to the table, Astarte reappears wearing some of my pajamas. Flannel pajamas. Not the sexiest things in the world, but somehow she makes them look good. Maybe it's because she's left the top unbuttoned and I can see the swell of each breast when she turns.

She's changed the music as well, replacing Anthony Hamilton with Etta James, singing "At Last". Smart, that girl. The soup is delicious (if I do say so myself), perfectly complimented by the fresh garlic bread and another bottle of wine. We're drinking a Shiraz/Cabernet by Penfolds. Very full-bodied with a hint of smokiness to it. We don't speak, there's no need, and we take our time eating, feet occasionally touching, the music soothing. Oscar trots back out sniffing the air and looking for scraps. He knows this is wrong.

"Are you begging?" This is normally what makes him lay down and stop. But as I say this to him a hunk of garlic bread flies through the air and he catches it, swallowing it whole. Glutton. I look at Astarte. "You realize you'll spoil him. I don't give him people food."

She takes a drink of her wine and throws another hunk to him. I can only smile and think about how I'm going to pay her back for this.

Dinner is over, the bowls mopped clean of soup with the bread. We've finished another bottle of wine and I feel flush, sated, happy. I could probably nap but that certainly is not in the cards. Astarte looks at me.

"So what now, monkey?"

"How about a shower? You can wash me."

"Dirty boy. Open another bottle of wine." She gets up and heads to the bathroom. As I open the third bottle I hear the water in the shower. I turn the music up so we can hear it in there, Etta now singing "I've Got a Right to Sing the Blues". The shower is just starting to steam when I get there, and I'm just in time to watch Astarte undress, facing away from me. Oh, the things that ass does to me. I've decided to spend a long, long time washing it, worshipping it, and I have the insane desire to bite it, hard, clamp my teeth down and not let go. Instead I put the bottle of wine against her ass, cold glass against flesh and she jumps a bit.

"Hey!"

I laugh and get undressed as Astarte slips into the shower. I pour the wine and get in with her. The steam evelops us as I put the glasses on the side of the tub. Astarte is under the water, leaning back into it and running her hands through her thick hair. It turns black as the water hits it but remains wavy. Her hair, much like her, refuses to be tamed. I move forward and put my arms around her, my hands in the small of her back, my fingers just on the top of her ass. We stand under the hot water for a bit and I can feel myself getting hard again as my cock brushes the smooth skin where her pubic hair used to be. She reaches down and puts both hands on me, rubbing the head of my cock against her stomach and leans in to kiss me. We stand like this for some time, hot water spraying over us.

I reach over and grab the soap, lather it up and rub it all over Astarte's chest, stomach and arms. Grabbing her I press myself against her, rubbing up and down, back and forth, two soapy bodies sliding against one another. Her hands full of soap, she grabs my cock again and starts pumping up and down. I reach down and put my hand between her legs, fingers exploring, rubbing. She moans, puts her head on my shoulder and then bites me. I love being bitten and she knows it. She bites again, still stroking me, the water splashing on us, wine forgotten. I put both hands behind her head, just under her ears, pull her close and kiss her, hard and deep. She lets go of my cock and puts her arms around me, hands on my shoulders. I whisper to her.

"Turn around and bend over."

She does. There, before me, the ass I dream about, round, firm...perfect. I rub the head of my cock up and down her pussy lips, spreading them, and then slowly enter her, going deep, all the way in and then stay there for a moment. Astarte inhales sharply, holding her breath, waiting for me to start moving. So..I don't. I slap her ass instead. Turn about's fair play, no? She reaches back with one hand and tries to push me back, out, but she doesn't have the leverage. I smack her ass again and move out, slowly, then back in, slowly, so I can watch. I'm sliding in and out, water and soap everywhere, both of us moaning, breathing hard. I have both hands on her hips, moving her back and forth, I'm sliding almost all the way out before going back in, going slow, savoring the feeling, the water, the sound of the shower and the woman in front of me.

"Come on monkey, this is what you wanted, you've got me from behind. Now fuck me."

I don't need any further encouragement. I increase the rythym, going faster, harder, slapping against her ass. She reaches down and starts rubbing her clit as I fuck her, lifting one foot to the side of the tub. I move one hand to cup her breast, squeeze the nipple, and then reach up and grab her hair, pulling it. We're moaning almost in unison now and I can feel the climax coming and tell her so.

"I'm gonna cum."

"Cum on my ass, all over it, cum on me monkey!"

God I love it when she talks like that. I pull out and do exactly what she said, cumming all over her ass, white and creamy. It runs down the crack of her ass and she reaches back, rubbing it. We sit there for a moment, panting, me leaning against her. She stands up, turns around and kisses me.

"I've missed you monkey."


More to come.


M. PotPie