She did not hear the door open, but she is not really surprised when she feels a wash cloth being applied to her back, as the soap is being washed and...rinsed off. It feels so nice she throws back her head and closes her eyes, enjoying the warm comfort of the water and the sensual caress of the soapy wash cloth, when she feels a hand reach out front caressing her tits, and her tummy. The soft, slippery soapy touch is vaguely familiar, but she just lets it go on, savoring the erotic moment. Lower. He fed the dogs, made himself a cup of tea and picked up the paper. That was habit. He left it unopened as his mind ranged over the last two days: full days and blissfully happy days. He relived the scene in the jewellers, Deborah's hesitant choice of ring and his immediate agreement. Her happiness. Her dealing with the pompous maître d'hôtel. Her happiness. Their teasing and tickling on the way home. Her happiness. The enthusiasm of his sons and their wives. Her happiness. And on and on. Her. More

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