I love baths.  I love to bathe in rivers and hot springs. Pools make me happy.

  When I was a kid my mother called me a water baby.  I now prefer to think of myself as a bathing aficionado.  I am, in simplest point of fact, a bath snob.  A river, crisp and loving, flowing against me, making my thighs tired, caressing my breasts with cooled fingers, fantastic.  Sitting by a pool with my legs dragging in the warmth of the sun touched water, bliss.  BUT a bath, a hot, steaming bath, perfect.

   I love to lie back with the scents of lavendar and patcholli, sweetgrass and rose washing over me.  The steam rolling off the surface of the water like a fog off a bay.  I light candles, and turn off the normal lights.  The beads of warm water on my legs and breasts soothes my soul.  Trickles away the pain and hurt of the day.

  I can fall asleep, or I can tease myself, and the end result is always utter bliss.  The feeling of a completely relaxed body, like just being fucked silly, envelops me, and my heart rests.  As I towel off, I feel able to face the day with just a bit more ease.

  Gods bless the inventor of the hot bath.

3 responses »

  1. syr84 says:

    now if only there was one big enought for me to fit in……. pout, misses baths

  2. kittengirl says:

    he will love you so much for that

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