It was a very usual day at first. The alarm on my blackberry went off at 6;00 am like it does every day, weekends included, and I got out of bed and gently stroked my morning wood, slowly changing it from an involuntary to a voluntary stiffie. It bugged my lover to no end when I did it, she said that it was juvenile and more than a bit obscene to sit on the edge of my bed and masturbate.
“Then do it for
I was just rinsing my neck when I felt the rush of cold air that announced her entry into the bathroom. She was wearing my old college nightshirt, a relic of life in the dorms when sleeping naked was a discouraged activity. On me, it reached the top of my boxers, on her, it was a sexy little dress that barely covered the soft cotton thong that was always there. Sleeping naked made her feel “vulnerable” so she always had something on. I teased her about it, but honestly, it was a complete turn-on to see her in bed next to me, my nightshirt disheveled around her torso, her white, pink, black, striped, or tiger-print panties peeking out from underneath.
I had woken her up by lightly rubbing the moist cotton more than once, and if the mood was right when we fell asleep, it was her preferred method of getting up (and off) in the morning.
The mood must have been OK, despite her comments about my self-pleasure, because as I stood in the glass-walled shower, hard as a rock and touching myself, she unbuttoned my shirt and let it drop to the floor. Her breasts, a generous C-cup were smooth and full, two nipples hardened in the cold morning air, or perhaps aroused by the thought of being watched and of what was to come. Her panties this morning, all cotton, small and thin, were bright neon blue and they barely covered her shaved mound of flesh.
“On of off?” she asked?
“OFF” I replied.
She turned around once, allowing me to enjoy the view of the thin material disappearing between the firm cheeks of her ass. With a teasing smile, she bent forward and pulled the wispy material down over her thighs, exposing her gentle curves completely.
“If I could only take a picture.” I groaned. I opened the shower door, extended my hand, and pulled her in to the three hot streams with me.
Her body was cool to the touch from sleeping under the open windows that overlooked the harbor. She grew up in
Her body soon warmed to the pulsing jets and we settled in to a rhythm of washing each other’s bodies. Her delicate hands were long and lean and she explored the hidden crevices under my arms, the nape of my neck, and moved lower. I washed her shoulders, and chest, feeling the weight of her breasts in my hand, playing with them as they were coated with the slippery soap and a generous handful of baby oil and lotion. Her nipples slipped through my fingers as I tried to fondle them, and she giggled and teased me by pulling away and making them sway to and fro with sensual wonder that aroused me even more than her active hands.
Her hands, her glorious hands, had found my erection and had begun to wash me in earnest. Up and down the shaft, around the base, between my legs to cup and caress my tightening testicles. Her hands rolled and toyed with the delicate spheres without a single misstep, never too much pressure, the tug never too hard. She washed me gently with soap and then made the switch to conditioner and baby oil. The combination was cool and slippery, dual sensations coated my skin and I leaned back against the shower wall, giving her room to stroke me with both hands. Double-fisted pleasure danced over and around my body. The hot water would quickly wash away the lubricants and she would quickly refill for more.
Soon she could see that my ability to hold off my orgasm was beginning to slip.
“Change the nozzles.” She said, “Are you ready”
“Are you sure?” I confirmed,
“Sure,” she said with a shrug of her shoulders and a smile that indicated I might be in for more than I bargained for. “I’ll finish later.”
I turned off the two overhead nozzles and the chest high “muscle pounder” and activated an overhead rainforest nozzle put in for just these moments. It was pelvis high, a firm but soft water stream could be directed directly at the most wonderful parts of the body for me or for her. We joked that it was good that I married her, at five foot 9 inches, and not her sister, the 5 foot 2 “midget” as Dove called her.
“It’s a good think we are the same height, all the equipment is in the same place.”
With the crotch nozzle at full power, she turned me away from her and put me spread-eagle against the tile wall.
The soft falling water from above kept us warm and wet, soaked in a gentle drizzle that allowed her handfuls of baby oil to remain on my skin without being washed away.
Her hands started off with soap, a gentle lathering deep between my cheeks. She pulled my cheeks apart, exposing them to the warm cascades of water.
I heard, but ignored the soft opening and closing of the shower door. My mind was concentrating on the wicked pleasure of her hands on my backside, massaging the tight puckered opening without hesitation or restraint. Her fingertip was soft and smooth, yet bold in its slippery explorations. She coated my backside with more baby-oil, causing the shower floor to be slippery and a bit dangerous.
The warmth of her finger, the delicate pressure, and a conscience effort on my part to relax, allowed her entry and I sighed with delight.
“Hotter” I asked, and her free hand reached around and upped the heat on my lower nozzle. She took my cock in hand and held it up so it would get the full spray of the nozzle and it almost put me over the edge right then. She stroked it gently, the back of her hand blocking the water’s spray, lessening in the sensation in one way, but heightening it with her grip and pressure.
“I’m getting close,” I admitted through grit teeth.
“Good.” She said, and increased the pressure from behind. Her finger, coated with baby oil slipped in deeply and without resistance. The sensation of being penetrated was forbidden and erotic, and dirty all at the same time, she pressed harder and started to massage my prostrate as her hand continued stroking me in the hot jets of water. I cold feel my orgasm building with each stroke and with the penetration of my backside.
She started a long, slow, withdrawal and I could feel my body loosing its grip on her.
“Not yet” I whispered.
“I’m not done,” she said, and I felt her hands on my delicate skin once again. This time it was different though, the baby oil was applied in copious amounts and then I felt the small hard tip of her newest dildo.
“Really?” I asked.
“Are you ready?”
The penetration was intense and scary. I leaned forward to open myself up to her, and felt it slip in deeper, filling me, stretching me.
“Do you like it?” she asked, her left hand pumping my cock in the hot water.
“Do you like being fucked?” my whimper gave her the answer she sought and she started pumping her dildo in and out of my virgin ass. It was erotic and strange and perverse and delicious, and amazing. Her left hand darted back and forth between the baby oil bottle and my erection, keeping one side hard, the other side smooth, allowing her to penetrate me without hurting me.
I bent over further and allowed her further depth with her thrusting and then started bucking against her hand involuntarily. My cock felt like a fire hose as it emptied itself in spurt after spurt against the dark blue tile. The hot water quickly washed it away, but my climax was mind-altering and I got light-headed as she continued to pump me, keeping me hard, and keeping my orgasm flowing. The lights in the shower danced and I found it hard to breath, and I felt as if I was 3 inches off the tile floor.
As I began to calm down, the sensations in my ass took center stage and I realized that she was still working me, filling me, and that her left hand had moved from my softening cock to between her now spread legs. She was leaning against me, stroking herself as she continued to work me deep.
“Take it out, I’m done.” I said breathlessly.
She kissed me on the back of my neck and gently extracted my new best friend.
Now it was her turn to admit it, “I’m going to cum,” she said, “Lift me up.”
I knew what she wanted, it was a familiar and easy way to bring her to climax, but she usually asked for it before I finished, because I needed to be strong and focused.
I turned off the overhead shower and the pressure from the crotch nozzle increased dramatically. She stood between me and the spray and reached back for me, locking her hands behind my neck. I bent down slightly and put my hands on the backs of her thighs and she sat down in to my hands. Seated now, I lifted her up and she opened her legs to the insistent stream of water. Once confident in my grip, she let go of my neck, reached forward, turned up the heat, and then settled back into my arms. I shifted my grip, held her tight, and spread her legs wide open. Her fingers moved between her legs and began stroking and caressing in big circles, touching her open legs, the taut muscles of her inner thighs, her breasts and belly. She pinched and pulled at her nipples for a while and I did my best to keep her clit directly in the stream of hot pounding water.
Finally, I knew she was ready to cum. Her hands stopped wandering over her aroused flesh and she reached between her legs. Delicately, but firmly, she peeled back her engorged lips and exposed her clit completely to the flowing heat. At this point it was up to me to hold her perfectly still, keeping her clit in the center of the stream, in the middle of the heat, the flow, the pressure. She put her feet against the shower wall and braced herself between the hard blue tile and my chest. In this position she was able to lower her open lips to within in inch of the nozzle to intensify every sensation, heat, wet, pulsing, flowing, wild, unbridled.
Her orgasm hit her all at once. No preliminary moaning, no pleading for more, because we knew exactly what would happen, and it was our only goal. She knew that I would drop her water-slick body to the tile floor if she moved a single muscle and the enforced self-restraint intensified the orgasm more than the all the silk restraints in the world. Her only outlet was her voice and her grunts were deep and primal, she breathed in and breathed out, almost barking out her passion. Her hands never moved, she held herself open and on target as wave after wave of orgasm rolled through her. As the intensity overcame the pleasure, she slowly pushed herself away from the wall and wrapped her arms around my neck for support.
I lowered her down to the floor, holding her upper body to allow her to get her feet steady and her head on right. I fiddled with the shower controls once again and bathed us in a traditional shower from 4 directions. The soft warm streams of water covered our faces and trickled down our chins as we kissed gently in the water.
“I love this shower.” I said.
“I love you.” She replied,
We turned off the water and grabbed our towels. As we stepped out of the bathroom the bright lights turned themselves off and our bedroom felt dark and secluded by comparison. I helped her dry off and then held her naked in my arms, feeling the fullness of her chest against mine. In the seclusion of our room, she looked even more beautiful, and I realized that I loved having her all to myself for these few moments.
“Do you think the cameras were on?” She asked. “That one will really bring in the ratings if they don’t cut it out.”
“Have they ever cut you out?” I asked, wrapping my arms around her slender frame, letting my hands roll gently over her breasts and hips. “You are they’re most popular shower girl of all time. The servers are going to crash the minute this footage hit’s the site.”
She laughed and let herself fall back on to the bed, her wet hair leaving a long mis-shapen shadow on the satin sheets. My heart skipped a beat and I looked at her smiling face and lost myself in her eyes.
“Now come here,” she said, reaching her hand out to mine, “Come here, and take me like I’m really yours. Like no one is watching.”