Blue Veins

The day just didn’t want to go my way.

I overslept.

There was traffic.

I was late to work and chewed out by my boss.

The break room was out of coffee.

My clients all decided to become assholes.

And to top it all off, I came home from this stressful work day to find that my new beagle puppy had taken it upon herself to redecorate the living room with the entrails from my favorite couch cushions.

But instead of flipping my lid and having the biggest hissy-fit of my adult life, I calmly cleaned the mess up and determined not to let it break me down.

And so my dreadful day continued into night. My fiancé didn’t come home when he promised and I was left to make, eat, and clean up after dinner all by myself. Normally, I wouldn’t have been so bothered by this since his work often kept him late, but I needed someone to vent at and his not being there just seemed like another funny little joke that the universe was playing on me.

After a good hour of staring blankly at the television in a futile attempt to relax, I got tired of waiting for my betrothed to show up and resolved to take a shower in hope that the hot water would help melt the tension of my exhausted, tense muscles.

I padded barefoot into the bathroom, stripping down to my birthday suit on the way in anticipation for the soothing water. Once I got the shower going, I stopped to stare at my naked reflection in the mirror while the water heated up. Like most women who had a bad day would, I focused solely on my imperfections.

My eyes were too far apart

My nose was too big.

I had an ugly, pink scar on my chest from a bike accident.

My hips were too wide.

My butt stuck out too far.

The list went on until the steam from the shower fogged up the mirror and I could no longer see myself. Sighing dramatically, I turned to the shower and gingerly stepped under the piping hot water fall. I couldn’t hold in the groan that came to my lips as soon as the warm water hit my skin. It was like a full body orgasm. My tense, uptight body gradually eased up and slipped into limpid contentedness. Soon, my mind followed suit and all the worries, cares and upsets of my day just washed off me with the water and down the drain.

I was beginning to suds up with my aromatherapy soap when I heard the distant thump of the front door opening and closing, and the pathetic little howls of Puppy as she warned me of a possible home invader.

“Baby?” I heard my fiancé call out from the entry hall of our house.

I was ripped from my relaxing, dream world by the sound of his gravelly voice and the inexplicable excitement it always caused me. “I’m in the shower, hun!” I peeked my head out of the shower curtain and yelled back at him.

It was quiet for a minute and I went back to washing my body, until I heard the bathroom door open and my man step inside. I could tell that he was trying to be sneaky, so I remained silent and continued washing, but a grin spread across my face at the thought of what this intrusion might lead to.

The sound of the running water obscured most of it, but I heard the telltale signs of him removing his clothes and preparing to join me. At last, he pulled back the shower curtain and stepped in behind me. I gave a playful gasp and spun around dramatically. He laughed and enveloped me in his tattooed arms.

“Mmm, I’m so sorry, Babe. Our producer decided he wanted to finish tracking all the harmonies today and he kept us all extremely late. I tried-“he apologized, but I cut him off by quickly pushing my lips against his and sweetly kissing him.

“I know it’s not your fault,” I told him after I pulled away.

“That may be, but I still want to make it up to you,” he replied with this devilish smirk gracing his handsome face. I didn’t have a chance to reply before he was kissing me again, this time with a passion and force behind it that made my knees weak. It was clear just how he intended to make up for his lateness.

“You are such a gorgeous creature,” he growled into my ear as lips made their way down my neck and his hands roamed my soapy body. The hardened callouses from years of guitar playing scratched softly at my soft skin. It thrilled me to know that I could still turn him on when not even half an hour ago I felt like an ugly duckling.

I instinctively pushed my body up against his, the urge to feel close to him overwhelming my senses. “Billie,” I whispered, as if it were a secret. He moved his mouth back up to claim mine for a long, almost unbearable minute.

Suddenly, Billie Joe dropped to his knees and spread my trembling legs. He lowered his lips to kiss my bellybutton and I shivered despite the hot water pouring continuously over us. He slowly worked his way down until his talented tongue was rubbing against my most sensitive spot. I mewed eagerly at his painfully pleasure full ministrations.

I could feel the tingles of the beginning of a satisfying climax when he added his hand into the mix, thrusting two curved, skilled fingers into my core and working them deliciously slow. It was my undoing. I came with a sharp cry and a lovely series of spasms that Billie Joe held onto me through.

Afterward, I pulled him to his feet and tiredly locked my lips onto his again. “Wow. Thank you,” I practically purred at him.

“It was my pleasure, sugar.”

Later that night, when he and I were snuggling in bed after two more earth-shattering orgasms, I couldn’t help but reflect on the stresses of my day. And none of them seemed as substantial when I was in the arms of my beloved.

“Billie?”

“Hmm?” he replied, clearly fighting off sleep. He always looked so adorable at times like this.

“I really fucking love you.”

He laughed softly and I could feel the gentle vibrations of it in my head from its resting place on his chest. “I fucking love you too, Baby.”

“Good,” I smiled and snuggled into him even more.

“And I can’t fucking wait until you’re Mrs. Armstrong.”