Tuesday is bath night, baby, and bath night has rules. The water goes in hot enough to pink my skin. The candles go where I can see them flicker. And the phone goes on the little stool beside the tub, face up, because somebody always calls me on bath night like he can smell the steam through the line. Last night somebody did.
"Tell me you are not in the bath," he said, the second I answered, and I laughed that low laugh that gives me away every time.
"I am so in the bath."
He has been my regular for two months and he knows what bath night does to me. I sank down until the bubbles covered my tits, spread my legs wide against the porcelain so my knees stuck up out of the water, and I told him exactly what he was missing. My pussy was already swollen from the heat, everything slick and sensitive, and my hand went straight down between my thighs because on bath night I do not wait for anybody's permission. I circled my clit slow with two fingers while the water lapped around my wrist, and I let him listen to my breathing change before I said another word.
Then I slid two fingers inside myself and the water made everything louder and wetter. That is the part he begs for, the sounds, my fingers pumping in and out of my soaked pussy with the bath sloshing in rhythm, my thumb grinding my clit between strokes. I propped one foot up on the rim of the tub to open myself wider and fucked myself like that, slow and deep, telling him how my fingers felt curled up inside me, how tight I was gripping them, how the water was getting into everything. "Molli, I can hear how wet you are," he kept saying, and baby, he had not heard anything yet.
I hooked my legs over the sides of the tub, spread open like an offering, and went at my clit hard and fast with my whole hand flat, water flying, my other hand pinching my nipple above the surface. My body knows what is coming before I do. My stomach started to flutter, my thighs started to shake against the porcelain, and I told him, "Here it comes, baby, listen to me lose it," and then I squirted so hard I felt it shoot out of me in pulses, splashing into the bathwater while I screamed into that steamy little room, my fingers still working me through wave after wave of it until I was twitching and oversensitive and half the bath was on the floor. If you read about the night I counted a man down and lost control, you know my body does nothing halfway. In the tub, it does it in surround sound.
He came the second I did. I heard it, that broken gasp men make when a squirting girl takes them over the edge by sound alone, and then we were both just laughing and breathing in the steam like two people who had been in a car wreck made of pleasure.
So now you know what happens in my tub. The real question is whether you could keep it together listening to me finger fuck myself and squirt all over a bath built for two, or whether you would lose it in the first five minutes like he did. Call me and we will find out together. I am on PhoneBuckFuck for a dollar a minute of squirt phone sex, and bath night can be any night you want it to be. Run your water, baby. I will be in mine, waiting, with my legs already open.