"My turn?" He askedShe nodded. He soaped up his hands and began washing her. Even though he had permission, he still felt a little shy. So he bega... soaping up her belly and hips. Her skin was firm and slippery, her belly button a soft indent that gave him a thrill when he put his finger in it. Slowly he moved his slippery hands up her belly and to her breasts. Mrs Watsons hands gave him the encouragement he needed as she cupped her hands over his and moved them to her nipples.The soap. He sputtered, the sickeningly sweet liquid hismouth. He couldn?t keep some of it from spilling down his throat, though.Enough of it, he expected, from the look of approval on his wife?s face."There," she whispered, once the bottle was empty. She patted him lightlyon the cheek. "That wasn?t so bad, was it?" You bitch, if you think-" The man?s voice cracked, between "bitch" and"if" and he paused in his tirade. His throat felt tight, suddenly, andMarcus wished he was free to rub it. "If you. More

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