The warmth was soaking through to my brain while I was enjoying the relaxing fragrance from the myriad of scented bubbles that surrounded and soothed my aching body. I don’t think there are many things finer than lying quietly in a hot bath, letting go of all your cares, eyes closed and mind drifting to the pleasure zone. I’m not one for candles giving off soft lighting and floral aromas. I’m not one for New World music where some Peruvian harp spanker or nose flute virtuoso serenades me with some echoing lament… no I just love to luxuriate in that hot pool of welcoming water and let myself go. Eyes closed to the cares of my suburban world as another week comes to an end.
Even in the most relaxed state my hands gently caress my smooth soapy skin; gliding over warm, ultra sensitive mounds and bulges, enjoying each sensuous touch. It never ceases to amaze me how my cock seems to love the warm soapy surroundings, which give it that extra encouragement to stand, periscope like, above the foam. Caressing the thick pink, hardening shaft, teasing the purple crown makes me sigh, smile and savour the intense pleasure that sweeps through my body. Taking more time than I actually need to satisfy myself… with my eyes closed to my cocky vision I have another, more acceptable image in my minds-eye. Teasing and toying, my brain conjures up countless possible partners. Film stars, pop stars, soap star (very appropriate) but the one I settle on is John, the new lad in the post room. 18 year-old John had recently joined the company but he’s made such an impact on me. He is beautiful and as soon as I saw him I got an immediate hard-on like I did when I met my wife for the first time. Even now, after two months, just the appearance of him collecting my mail sends my cock into overdrive and I fantasise about shagging his beautiful butt for the rest of the day.
As I continue to soap up my cock, the mental image of his youthful, blemish-free face, disappearing to greet my pulsing cock as he falls to his knees fills my fantasy. “Ooohhh yeahhhh”… if only. My fingers replicate his willing mouth, my heart beat increases and the storm brewing on the surface of what was once placid waters, begins to form wave after wave of… expectation. Erect and proud, I know just a few more strokes and my orgasm will begin to make itself known; a tightening of the ball sack, the need to speed up those, now, not so gentle strokes, along the silky, soapy shaft. I can feel it building so my eyes tighten even more in anticipation and to let all those new flooding sensations take over as shot after shot sprays onto my face and chest. I lay there exhausted and drained with the droplets of our ‘joint’ orgasm covering my hairy heaving chest. While he wipes his imaginary mouth John’s smiling image fades. The door suddenly gets thrust open and my youngest daughter demands the use of the toilet as she is bursting. I can hear the wife shouting to her not to disturb daddy but it’s too late. She sits there and asks why her daddy looks so red. I blush slightly but tell her the water is very hot. I’m not sure if she’s convinced as I dip beneath the surface to wash off my pearly residue. When I resurface she is gone, bless her little heart, but the ‘moment’ has gone and I’m back again feeling slightly annoyed and slightly agitated again with the world for not allowing me more time to enjoy my orgasm. What I need is a relaxing bath!