Cleopatra's milk bath

Time for my milk bath. She dips me in slow, like she knows exactly where this is headed. Warm milk hugs every curve while she runs her hands over my skin, fingers tracing, stroking, teasing. I recline, naked and glistening, and just watch her work. She doesn't bother asking—smart girl. She spreads my thighs, drops to her knees at the edge of the tub, and drags her tongue over me in one smooth stroke. I laugh, reach down, and pull her closer. Sweet relief, bath-side service, the works.