Collection Privée - Histoires de Sexe

Collection Privée

... bathroom. Forest green towels lie heaped on the wooden floor, barely visible in the reflected light of a single candle next to the mirror.

The girl’s head leans back against the rim of the tub, showing her nut-brown hair gathered up into a loose bun. Several strands have escaped to brush along her cheeks and the back of her neck.

From behind, she seems to be looking up at the sculpted bronze showerhead curving over her at standing height, where one can just barely make out a fat drop gradually disengaging itself. Following the droplet’s trajectory downwards, the faucet, also in bronze, emits a strong flow of warm water.

Then, the girl’s legs come into focus. Rather than a demure pair of knees rising out of the tub, two long, pale limbs have braced themselves against the wall behind the faucet.

Only then does it become apparent where the water is falling and why the girl’s head is tipped back so far, fine chin in the air, eyes squeezed shut.

Only then are her hands visible. As one caresses a small yet heavy breast, molding it to point the nipple upright, the other dangles a few inches over her chest. Drops of water roll off her fingers to plop and slide on the sensitive skin below.

Her legs push ever so slightly, and her hips pulse to the inherent rhythm of the pouring water. The sensations course along her body, from her flexed toes, along the smooth skin of her legs, belly, breasts, all the way to her white neck, gracefully straining back, as if at once ...

... fleeing and exposing herself to the electric stimuli.

She might be dreaming about her lover. Following a bout of love-making, the young woman would have slipped off to the bath for a gentle cleansing. She would know he’s lying on the bed in her room a few doors down the hall, drowsily waiting for her, maybe flipping through the dirty picture book they would have just been enjoying together. Lying in the warm water, she would feel his essence inside her, barely contained within her swollen lips…

Or perhaps she has no lover. Maybe one of the other renters in the boarding house has struck her fancy. The dark-eyed young woman who arrived a week ago, for example. The discreet one, whom she only ever glimpses slipping down the hall coming home in the evenings. The one whose long, somber dresses don’t quite manage to hide the superb forms underneath. Maybe this young neighbor has taken a bath just before her. That would explain why the showerhead is leaking… Her scent would linger in the bath. She may have just used one of the towels on the floor. Imagining how her enigmatic neighbor may have touched her own body under the water, the young woman slips her soapy hand over her belly and down between her legs…

Though her nether lips are slightly numb from the sustained contact of the water, her clitoris throbs under its pressure. She moves her index finger around it under the stream. At certain moments, it seems on the point of bursting and, at others, as if seeking to hide from ...