The Stallion by Georgina Brown Read Free Book Online Page B

serious with intent, he came nearer. Now she could smell him, tangy, male and juicily desirable.
    Tremors of sensation tingled throughout her body as the sponge was rolled down over her belly and in between her legs.
    ‘Open your legs wider.’
    Having no intention of missing such a golden opportunity, she did as she was told. The warm sponge and the diligence of his hands spread and rolled her plush nether lips until they hung with soap suds, thoroughly spread and thoroughly cleaned.
    There was a pleasantness about it. Almost like satisfaction, she thought to herself – but not quite. Pink flesh much used and abused the night before felt refreshed and touched with new life.
    She closed her eyes now. Better to savour that way and to fully absorb the tingling that ran over her skin and centred on her precious clit and blossoming nipples.
    The hand that was not using the sponge travelled to her hip, his fingers soft and tantalising. His hand held her hip. He reached round, his fingers clasping gently at the taut flesh of one buttock.
    ‘If you get down on all fours,’ he said suddenly, ‘I’ll do your back.’
    The request was irresistible. She got on to all fours. She wanted to do this; to feel her tension dissolve in the warmth and her sexual desire flood over her like a warm wave on a tropical beach.
    The water reached her elbows. The furry mixture of sponge and soap loosened the muscles of her back and shoulders. She opened her eyes, closed them again and purred like a kitten. The hands travelled down over her back to her pink buttocks.
    It occurred to her that Gregory did this for everyone new, and had probably done it for Ariadne. That made her jealous. Calm down, she told herself, use your self-control. Obviously this was routine, an act designed to put people at ease and promote mutual trust. And what could be better than sharing a bath? Didn’t the Japanese do it anyway?
    Suds circulated around her neck and dropped in white globules from her breasts. She murmured with surprised delight as the squidgy softness of the sponge was pressed in between her buttocks, the soap trickling down the deep crevice and through the channel that divided her legs.
    Warmth, suds and softness invaded the wet folds of flesh. Her thighs opened slightly. Her head felt dizzy, her eyes closing as she revelled in the sweet decadence of doing nothing, of depending on someone else to cleanse and pamper her willing body.
    She felt the long fingers, as delicate in their touch as any artist, spread her cheeks apart, expose her anus and press the sponge and its soapy issue into her puckered hole.
    There was no stopping the moan of ecstasy that issued from her throat. She closed her eyes, threw discretion to the wind, and pressed her buttocks more firmly against it.
    ‘I think you need more soap,’ she heard Gregory say, his voice as melodious and beguiling as his looks.
    ‘Whatever . . . ’ she replied through her moans of pleasure.
    His hands ran down over her back. His fingers parted her buttocks. Something soft but basically hard was forced into her anus. She gasped, and realised the invader could only be the soap which was long and shaped more like shaving soap than bath soap. Its effect was incredible. Her muscles gripped as it slid gently in and out. Still moaning and savouring all that was being done to her, she arched her back and pressed herself on to it. This was the best bath she’d ever had.
    ‘More,’ she moaned, and wished that the soap was twice the size it was; that there was something bigger to push into her pulsating vulva which cried out for attention. Her clit also tingled with demand, entering the scenario like a star act stepping on to centre stage.
    The folds of flesh that hugged the core of her sex began to open like the petals of a lotus in bloom, droplets of dewy essence mixing with the lather as her plump labia opened in anticipation.
    ‘All finished,’ she heard him say as the soap was withdrawn. Now her