His hands are on my outer thighs. They slide up, taking my skirt up a little. It’s too tight to go up much further, but he finds the side zip and pulls it down, then my skirt comes down and off.
I go down a little with it, my knees landing on the thick bathmat.
“Hold onto that ledge,” he orders gruffly and immediately I grasp it with both hands as the skirt is presumably tossed aside.
He chuckles and snaps the waistband of the purple thong I’m wearing. I squeak in surprise as a smile spreads across my face.
“I approve of these panties,” he tells me.
“I hoped you would, sir,” I whisper. “I wore them for you.”
I fetched these from my bedroom floor where he dropped them. I did my laundry today and put them on just an hour ago. I did this when they were fresh from the dryer and still hot. This was directly after a long shower and painstaking time spent grooming my lady-bits, which the hot undies made me extra aware of.
He makes a rumbling sound that I think means approval and then there’s the tension of him pulling the fabric back against my core. He lets go, making it snap against my skin again, making me jolt. Austin’s finger follows the straight line of the spandex down the crack of my bottom, down some more and I tighten and tense as the finger slides under the elastic and then down my asshole and finds its way to my sopping wet pussy. His finger dips in and out briefly before it stops on my clit.
His warm breath is now in my ear and he makes a vibrating sound of approval at finding me so wet.
“Open your knees wider,” he orders.
I shuffle my legs apart a little bit, feeling a little friction on my knees from the bathmat.
Austin’s finger slides in and out and I feel the loss of the heat at his back and a hand on my left butt cheek, opening me up.
“Inspection time,” he says and I’m ridiculously self-conscious because he’s pushed me forward and up slightly so I’m over the side of the tub and I know he’s looking between my legs from behind. As his fingers prod, I feel my legs go even wider, and then I’m hiked up a little more so I’m balancing on my belly across the side of the tub. I’m dangling over the tub now, but his hands are on me, holding me from doing a face-plant into the porcelain.
“I wonder if the master bathroom is more suitable for this inspection,” he muses. “Have you cleaned in there yet today?”
“Yes, sir,” I whisper.
“Hm. Let’s go see. I’m mostly satisfied with my inspection of this bathroom. Let’s check the other one.”
“Mostly?” I query.
I’m suddenly up in the air, being thrown over his shoulder. I squeak.
I’m naked from the waist down only and being carried down the hall.
He thrusts his fingers into my sopping wet folds as he makes his way into the master bedroom, and then I’m in the same position over the other tub and it’s definitely taller and larger so more suitable for this deliciously dirty scene we’re acting out.
“Stay perfectly still. This is a very important inspection.”
I wait. I hear the foil packet and then I feel something between my legs. This time, though, it’s not his fingers I feel. It’s something with more girth. Much more.
He slides into me.
“That shampoo bottle… it’s filthy,” he reprimands. “Look at it.”
I look at the bottle of shampoo on the shelf and see one drip of blue shampoo just below the cap.
“Oh no. I’m so sorry, sir.”
A clap rings between my legs and I jolt. He’s just slapped my clit. While his cock is inside me.
“Holy fuck,” I breathe.
“Naughty girl.” he tsks and then does it again. “I’m not sure I approve of you cussing.”
I yelp and then my eyes roll back. He’s fully seated and just stays there. His lips are on my neck.
“Are you gonna make me scrub the tub while you do this?” I ask, breathless.
“I should. You’ve done a terrible job cleaning this bathtub, Miss Sweetheart.”
“I’m so s-sorry it’s not to your liking, Mister Groucho.”
Phew. I’m panting.
“You should be sorry,” he growls into my ear, then he slowly pulls almost all the way out of me. It’s so slow it’s like torture, because it feels like he’s pulling away, ending before we fully get started, but just before he’s entirely out, he grabs my hips with both hands and slams in.
“Bad girl,” he grits.
I fly forward, completely dangling over the tub, feeling all the blood rush to my head.
He pulls back out and then he’s slamming in again.
I whimper.
It goes on for three or four more strokes and then Austin whispers, “This can’t be comfortable for you.”