I Want To Love The Skin I'm In

I want to love the skin I'm in. I want to have it thrill me, delight me. I want to revel in it because I know what I had before, I know what I lost, and I know that it's never been this good.

Not as him. Only as her.

Without any company in the house it's easy for me to take advantage. With a smile that is by now positively mischevious I shimmy out of my pajama pants and reach down to grasp the bottom of my shirt and pull it smoothly up over my head. They scatter on the kitchen floor and there they remain, barely even a memory as I pluck my third cup of coffee and sashay naked and confident out of the room.

Every step is one that I am concious and aware of and so every step is like the beat of a dance. I flutter and I twirl and I twist and I bend and I move to a silent beat, to a rhythm and a melody that I don't hear but know all the same as I drift through the house and up to the bathroom.

Door open. No need to keep myself hidden away.

I step into the shower and I let the water wash over me and I love it. It falls over me, the rivers of it tracing natural lines down my curves and I revel in it. I place my fingers on my skin and I watch the waters change. I turn slightly, shifting by degrees, and I watch the new ones form.

Biting my bottom lip now. Feeling the soft warmth of the soap as it slides over my skin and leaves me slippery. Closing my eyes for only a moment as I concentrate on touch for an instant and then opening to take myself in.

Sudsy. Shiny. A droplet of foam on the tip of my breast, coating my nipple before I curl a fingertip and pull it off and bring it up to my lips only to blow and send it drifting.

My hands in my hair, fingers curling through it. It's short and for maybe the first time I wish it was longer, something about the sensation of washing my hair an almost intensely feminine experience for me though maybe that's only because it's one that I've never had before.

But still.

Snap off the water and step out and I glance at myself in the mirror and the sight of me takes my breath away. Still slickly wet and shining from the shower. My skin flush with a blush that lingers for an instant and that lingers in all the best places.

In my cheeks, my complexion blushing and intense. In the skin just above my breasts, making it seem like I'm almost there, nearly able to crash through to an ultimately shuddering climax.

I could play with myself now. I could bring myself to climax so easily but I know that it wouldn't be enough, not just once. Even the thought of that, of finding that satisfaction, is enough to lend a tugging sort of freneticness to my movements. Like a marionette puppeted by an unskilled practictioner as my appetites rise and I know that if I was to start now...

Big empty house...

I could be loud...

I could take my time...

I would be so damn late, might not even leave the house.

And that won't do. In spite of everything else I still have a life I need to lead and places I need to be and I want and want to get going. I don't want to be late, wind up on academic probation or worse. I shouldn't.

I want to, but I shouldn't.

So I towel myself off as I hum and wander through the hallways back up to my room and I step into it and my eyes fall over to the note and the bag Rachel left for me. That fun little bag, as she put it, with something in it that I need.

I have to wonder what it is.

And so I walk over and I unzip it and I stare in and I smile because Rachel, she knows me. She gets me.

What she left, it's intimidating. It's downright terrifying.

And on a day like today it is precisely what I am looking for.

Join my Patreon for only $3 a month and get early access to new chapters and nearly a years worth of exclusive content. https://www.patreon.com/SophiePert