On the Bathroom Floor

I’ve been quiet all day, snapping at silly things. He has habits and unique little idiosyncrasies which make me both weak with want and ready to kill him when I feel like this. He’s rummaging around the bathroom cupboard for something unimportant, and I’m watching him. The soft, perfect bulge of muscle around his upper arms, the way his neck curves delicately into his strong, broad shoulders. I turn my body slightly, so I am looking at myself face to face in the full length bathroom mirror. I know deep down that I am not fat, but I still see a double chin, the ungraceful ooze of fat over my leggings, the way my thighs touch when I push my hips forwards.

Instinctively, my arms slide over my waist to my hips, like a child believing that if she makes herself small enough then no-one will notice her; no-one will discover the terrible secrets that she knows. He turns his head, sees my insecurity and shuts the cupboard door. He silently appears behind me, slides his perfect arms around my waist and rests his hands just above my own on my hips. He feels me tense slightly at his touch; although I am comfortable with him, I am not comfortable with myself and tend to shy away from embrace.

Our eyes meet in the mirror, and the crease of concern and frustration upon his forehead makes me want to squeeze him so tightly that we meld into one. He tells me that my curves are sexy, and for a fleeting instant, because in that moment every ounce of my being belongs to him, I believe him.

His hands slowly start to glide around to the back of my hips, then lower, our eyes never losing contact in the mirror. I remain still. His thumbs slip under the bottom of my vest top, and begin to play with the hem on my leggings. He subtly starts to tease them down, and I surrender my protective pose to turn around and capture his gaze face to face.

Our lips meet. His hands are plunging deeper still into my leggings, squeezing my arse. I’m pushing myself towards him, wrapping my arms around his waist and under his t-shirt and oh God his body is perfect and I can feel him hard against me, he rips his hands out of my underwear and pulls off my top in one swift movement… And then suddenly, I’m throwing his belt to the other side of the bathroom, my bra is in his hands, and we’re naked, kissing face neck chest tongues and I’m moaning, wrapped around him, pinned up against the wall of the bathroom.

His hands know exactly what I want them to do, as they cross the boundary of my thigh and work their way towards my clit. He tells me he wants to fuck me until I scream, and I cannot take it, I throw him backwards and then we’re on the floor and he’s pushing into me from below, and it feels amazing, I’m moaning so loudly and his hands are still squeezing my arse. He tightens his grip and I feel him hardening inside me, whispering sweet nothings in my ear, and I feel beautiful; perfect. And then I’m coming, screaming, tightening around him and I’ve never felt pleasure like it in my life, I just want to melt into this moment and stay here forever…
We lay together, still on the bathroom floor, panting as though we’ve been running for miles. He looks at me, smiles, and softly kisses my lips. And I feel like the luckiest girl in the world.


4 thoughts on “On the Bathroom Floor

  1. beautiful and erotic. I’m so glad you took the chance on posting something like this. And it shows a different side of you, but it’s also quintessentially you. I’m glad to see you can set aside your anxieties about yourself and let go with the right person

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