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Suddenly she pushed him away violently."Stand there," she ordered. "I'm in charge for the moment. You're about to get washed in a way you never thought of."She turned off the shower having got him thoroughly wet and then soaped him all over. Having done that she turned him away from her and plastered her front against his back. Then she started to move against him in a twisting motion, pressing her cheeks against his upper back, her breasts against his middle back and her crotch against his bottom. Her thighs rubbed his.Richard had never experienced anything so sensual or, for that matter, so sexually arousing. His limp dick began to engorge.Sharon whisked him round and, having pulled his head down for a short but passionate kiss, did the same for his front. Her abdomen writhing against his prick caused it to engorge even more. He was amazed at the speed of his recovery.Sharon dropped to her knees and washed his lower legs and feet in a rather more orthodox way even though she could. For a second there was nothing, just a watery vibration; dispelling all shape and resolution. Then it was there again — The Face.John had seen it several times before. The face peering back at him was that of a child also, much the same age that he was now. It had blond hair, which seemed to shimmer when the light caught it, almost angelic.John fancies that it looked rather like the choristers he often saw at Mass on Sundays, in their robes and surplice.That was the image that came to his mind.The texture of the face was pale, almost a creamy hue; but not unhealthy — rather it gave the impression of something new that had just been born into the world.The first time John had met the face was in his bath tub.He was just looking down, and there it was, staring up at him directly and sternly, from underneath the soapy water.Sophie, his Nanny, didn't see it; and John was sure she would have cried out, but she just continued washing his little head. He hated the feel of her warm hands on.
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