Day's End

I need this bath. It has been a long, uncomfortable day. My right abdominal is strained from a strenuous workout. My mind is racing, preoccupied with the things I should be doing. Finally, the evening winds down. I am alone.

I linger in the bedroom, taking an extraordinarily long time deciding what to put on afterwards. The house is so quiet. I just want to enjoy it for a little while. I sit on the edge of the bed and think of nothing. Nothing at all.

In the bathroom, the clawfoot tub beckons me. I wash my face at the sink, not wanting anything to distract me from my long soak. I start the bath water and turn to look at myself in the mirror. I am naked, but I do not look at my body. There is fatigue in my eyes, but also contentment. With myself, my life, a sense of renewal, having gotten through another day.

I step into the tub and sit cross-legged near the faucet. The water pours out onto my hands. I turn them over and look at them. I forget to wear my gardening gloves, and the rubber gloves by the kitchen sink rarely see any use. I should take the time, but I don't. My hands are working hands, caring and nurturing hands. I'll use the good lotion when I get out of the tub.

I turn off the water and lean back. The only sound I hear is the wind playing at the window. I close my eyes and breathe deeply in and out. Using my left hand, I reach across my body to palpitate my aching right side. My fingertips gently press and rub as the hot water relaxes me. The day's worries are slipping away. I use both hands to work the tension from my neck, my head tipped forward so my nose almost touches the water. Then I soak, listening to my own breathing and the blustery cold wind outside.

Soon my hands are at my breasts, filling my palms. I knead them simultaneously. Warm water has a particular effect on lactating women. The milk bubbles up slowly at first, and I do nothing to hasten it its expression. I allow it to dribble down my pink nipples and mix with the bath water. I find that my hips are rocking in time with each gentle caress. When the aching begins, my hands pass down my body, over my belly and touch the smooth folds between my legs.

I trace the sensitive flesh on either side of my clitoris with my index fingers. Just below the skin, my muscles are coming alive, hardening and twitching. A quiet hum drowns out the wind. Am I too lazy to use my own hand? No. I will need my hand elsewhere. My waterproof personal massager glides between my thighs. It is white, it fits in the palm of my hand or can be tucked discreetly into my purse. It is also highly efficient when I need it to be. But tonight, I am in no hurry.

The vibrations travel down to my vagina and back up to my hungry clitoris. I do not force it. It seems to know just what to do. It rides my body as I arch my back and roll forward onto my tailbone, then ease back onto my spine. I hold myself open with my left hand but am careful not to expose my most sensitive area. Not yet. Wait for it.

The water ripples up and down the length of the tub now, a small tidal pool created by my body's movements. I look down to see my pink clitoris is now erect and the vibrator teases her deliciously. The need is becoming urgent.

I hook my left leg over the side of the bathtub and plant my right foot near the faucet. My body is still submerged, but my legs are now spread wider. I bite my bottom lip in anticipation. I need more. My hips lift out of the water and my free hand slips beneath me.

My finger pushes into my tight ass without benefit of lubrication, and I do not care. The sensations all around my clitoris are instantly heightened. The vibrator works furiously, riding up and over me again and again. My finger probes and pulls. Breathe. Breathe. Wait for it. Let it happen.

The feeling comes many minutes later, after bringing myself to the edge and back repeatedly. My hips remain above the water, thrusting toward the ceiling. My finger drives deep and the warm metal presses directly into the tip of my hard clitoris. I come long and hard as the water sloshes out onto the bathroom floor. It is a quiet yet forceful orgasm. Finally, my legs give way. The vibrator falls from my hand, landing on the floor of the tub where it rattles incessantly against the porcelain. I turn it off and roll onto my side.

I lose track of time. Outside, it has begun to rain. I love to hear the rain falling. When I get out of the bathtub and wrap the thick towel around myself, I see my reflection in the mirror. My eyes are smiling.