He sat there waiting for her. Like usual. When he heard her outside walking up their front steps he knew they’d get into it. I mean she’s so damn inconsiderate.
She opened the door and walked in smiling, totally unassuming and apparently could care less about his feelings. Again. She casually flopped her purse down on the dining room table, slipped off her sandals, and walked down the hallway to the bathroom.
She closed the door behind her.
He walked up to the door and put his ear close to it to listen. She pulled the door open and it made him almost jump through the roof!
“What?” she asked.
He mumbled, “Uh. Nothing. I was going to draw you a bath?”
She paused and considered this. Walking past him she said, “Yes, do that. Draw me a bath.”
He walked into the bathroom and looked around. He pulled out some fluffy white towels and placed them on the vanity, and grabbled some candles and lit them: the burnt vienna orange one and the midnight turquoise cobalt too. When their aroma bathed the room along with the hot steam from the bath it was heavenly.
He pulled off his shirt and sat Indian-style in his boxers on the floor next to the tub, and reached in and turned on the spigot: piping hot. He poured her Tea Tree oil bath beads in along with some soapy, lathery rosemary oil and ran his hand quickly in the water to activate and fluff it all up.
He was gonna make it special.
She came in and disrobed and he stared up at her from the ground, the hot steamy bouquet rising up in the room. Ahh… He took her hand to help her to step into the bath. He pulled out the big sponge and poured liquid aroma-therapeutic soap on it while his other hand was on his swelled rod, slowly wagging and tugging and edging it, as he watched her get comfortable and settle in. Every few really slow tugs, he would reach under and cup and hold his liquid filled nutsack.
Boned to hell.
He took the sponge and looked into her eyes, as he moved in to begin the slow soaping.
“I’m not ready yet,” she said. “Just wait a minute.”