The scrubbed floor

I feel the warmth of her body as she lies down on me. She spreads her arms out wide and runs her hands over my smooth surface, stopping when she touches her thighs. She pulls her knees up. Her feet rest close to her buttocks. Her knees fall sideways, spreading her legs wide. Her body radiates heat onto my coolness. I hear her breathing quickening. Her hands are down between her legs.

She arches her body in excitement. Her back lifts off my surface. She moans softly and rolls over onto her stomach. The cold of my hard, tiled surface causes her to shiver. Not because she is cold, but because she likes feeling me pressing hard against her. She loves my smooth surface, the cold. She loves when I touch her body. The lady pushes herself up on her hands, just far enough for her nipples to still touch the floor. She watches as her breasts swing free and her nipples harden at my cold touch. As I warm up under her hot body, she crawls forward to find a cooler spot to tease her nipples.

As she moves over my surface and teases her nipples with my cold, she constantly moans. When she can take no more, she stops and flattens her breasts against a new cold spot. Her back arches. Her hand moves down to her crotch again. Her legs are spread. The soft inner pink of her pussy was glistening with her juices. Her fingers find her wetness and spread it to her clitoris. Small circles around her perfect little button, before her fingers disappear inside. Her breath spreads its warmness over my surface. Her fingers dance inside of her and her mouth sings in a harmonious moaning rhythm.

Her moans increase in intensity. I know she is close. I know that sound and I know what will follow. She rolls on her back; her legs still far apart; her hand still buried between her legs. As she pulls her fingers from inside her and moves them to her little erect button, her other hand shoots up to her breasts and pinches her nipple. She lets out a howl and squirts her love juices over my recently scrubbed surface.


She is quiet and still for some time. When at last she moves, she gets up and walks into the hallway on her bare feet. Moments later she gets back with a bucket of water and a sponge. She starts in the far corner, lovingly scrubbing my surface until I am clean and smooth again.

It is the second time today that she is scrubbing me. I know she loves me, loves to scrub me. I know that I excite her. Week after week she does the same. Indulges in her own strange pleasure. I don’t mind. I love to see her naked, to feel her softness against me, to hear her moans.

How many times will she scrub me today?

© Rebel’s Notes

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8 thoughts on “The scrubbed floor

    1. I think I will have the same. I always clean our kitchen and bathroom floors on my knees. I think I might have the urge to press my breasts to the cold tiles 😉

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