Bathing With Maria

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It started long ago, and I’m glad it did.

I realize that over the years, it has become a unique and very special aspect of our lovemaking. Fortunately, it is something that has always (thanks to Maria), managed to stay spontaneous, and has, more importantly, maintained its intense eroticism over the years. It seems simple enough, perhaps even strange, yet I know that it has become a very important part of our sexual intimacy as a married couple.

What I’m referring to is…bathing with Maria.

Look – when Maria and I were first married, for several years we seemed to do everything together. Not because we had to…like most newly married couples we did it because we wanted to. We were young, life was still new and wondrous, and it was just very easy to spend time together.

Let me backtrack a little, because I think it’s important to give you a little background about Maria. She was raised in a home that was very traditional, and strict; where there was a deep, prevailing attitude that sex, or anything to do with the subject, was simply not something to be acknowledged. The subject of sex was something that was simply not spoken of at home at anytime that she could remember. It took me several years to recognize that in Maria’s family there was always an odd sort of separation between the sexes that was fostered by her parents. She admitted that she never saw her parents showing any real outward affection toward each other – and only on rare occasions was there any deep affection shown toward her or her sister.

I always assumed it was something that was influenced by culture.

Maria grew up in an inner-city apartment that was small and cramped which made it necessary for her to share a bedroom with her sister for most of her childhood. The only time she could be completely alone was when she was in the bathroom. She told me of the many hours she spent in the bathtub – which, as she matured, became a sort of private retreat.

Her mother conveniently ignored the responsibility of teaching her daughters anything about sex. So by the time Maria and I got married, what little knowledge she had about the subject mainly consisted of things she learned from secretly browsing the limited selection of (rather clinical) books at the library. Or what was worse, was the, mostly inaccurate, theories and fantasies of her girlfriends who were only a little more knowledgeable on the subject than Maria.

On our wedding night, to tell you the truth, we were both so exhausted from the intensity and stress of the whole marriage-ordeal that we simply went to bed (still half dressed) and fell asleep in each other’s arms. It actually wasn’t until the next afternoon that our marriage was first consummated. I don’t even remember all of the details now but I do remember that it was an awkward, slightly painful (for Maria), and somewhat mechanical experience that consisted of lots of heavy groping, and more than a little fumbling, and nervous mistakes by each of us.

Thinking back, in the first few years that we were married our sex life wasn’t the best. I suppose it was because of her upbringing that Maria had difficulty with sexual intimacy and letting go, and as young and inexperienced as I was at the time, I had no clue how to help her. Although, at first she pretended that she enjoyed sex, in time, she reluctantly admitted that she had never achieved an orgasm and wasn’t sure if she ever could. We were really (pardon the pun) feeling our way along.

We did have something though, we had each other.

I realize now that we were fortunate because after-all, it was what got us through.

It was about the fourth or fifth year we were married something happened that changed everything for us and it had a profound effect on our sex life.

Before I get into that let me take a moment to tell you that Maria has moved very gracefully into middle age now. She has maintained her sensuous figure and still has long, deep-black hair and beautiful brown eyes that are set-off erotically by her soft, olive complexion. Her breasts, with their large, dark areolas, admittedly are not as firm as they were several years ago but they’re still warm, smooth, and beautiful beyond description. I can only say, “They are the breasts of a woman,” and from a man who loves women, that says a lot.

Maria has that subtle, confident look that some women in the middle of life are fortunate enough to have. It is the look that says to the outside world, I like myself. I’m a woman, and I’m not afraid of who I am now!

Getting back to telling you what happened, it was in about our forth or fifth year of our marriage and we had moved out of the city and into a two-story apartment in the suburbs. The apartment complex was very small, only six units, and the building backed up to a lush, dense forest. The rear bedroom, upstairs, looked down on the small patio of the adjoining unit.

Several months after we moved in I realized that on some nights Maria seemed to be more restless than usual. Sometimes I would awaken in the middle of the night and find her soaking in the bathtub. I’ll have to admit that those times made me feel separated from her. Something was on her mind, yet I didn’t know what. When I would ask her what was wrong she would simply say, “Nothing,” quite unconvincingly and would then change the subject. Her discomfort about dealing with the subject was obvious.

One particular hot summer night I awoke and found that Maria was not in bed, without turning on the lights I got up and quietly moved through our apartment looking for her. I checked the bathroom first, but she wasn’t there – I found her in the rear bedroom sitting nude in a chair, in the dark, looking out the window. She hadn’t heard me come to the door and as I watched her she had her right hand resting on her crotch and her left was gently caressing her own breast. Her long black hair fell over her shoulders and down her back. The pale moonlight that came through the window cast a delicate blue softness on her dark hair and skin.

“Maria?” I whispered softly so as to not startle her. She didn’t answer or turn around, but I saw her body stiffen slightly when she realized I was behind her. I stood at the doorway for a while just watching her as she simply continued to look out the window as if I wasn’t there.

I didn’t know if I should turn and leave her alone or stay. I finally moved into the dark room toward her and stood behind her chair. I placed my hands her shoulders and I can still remember how cool, and sensuous her skin felt to my touch that night. After a few moments of standing behind her I looked out the window in the same direction that she was looking. In the darkened patio of the apartment next to ours, two people were embracing each other and kissing passionately as they lay side by side on a lounge chair. Moonlight was the only light that illuminated them, yet it was easy to see that they were both nude. I said nothing as I stood behind Maria, watching the intimate scene before us. I got aroused immediately, yet I felt a slight pang of guilt as I watched the lovers below. I wanted to turn away – but I didn’t. Maria’s breathing was slow and deep and I could feel her trembling slightly under my touch.

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