Thanks to S for inspiration.
As I slide the shower door closed behind me I feel the first needle-like jets of hot water brush my back.
I turn into the water, closing my eyes and lifting my face up towards the source. Already the steam is building up in the bathroom and I fill my lungs with the warmth. It seems a shame to be washing her scent from my face; I can taste her in my mouth, still smell her delicate musk in my nostrils from where I buried my face in her, drinking her in. It hadn’t been licking or sucking so much as gorging. I had feasted upon her, a confusion of lips, tongue, mouth and face devouring her like a starving animal, drinking her in as she first wriggled and ultimately ground herself into me, her climax loud and profound. And I had stayed there as long as she had been able to stand my gentle caresses as she recovered, gasping for breaths of my own and bathing in her sweet juices. Dear Lord I love to make her cum like that.
As I lather the shampoo through my hair and rinse I can feel my cock twitch, provoked by my memories of the night before. I had left her curled up and purring softly; she had barely stirred as I silently slid from our bed. I had stolen a look back at her slumbering form, half concealed by the soft white sheet. She had looked so peaceful I had closed the bathroom door so as not to disturb her rest; she was going to need it as I had plans for that lithe little body of hers that would involve exertion.
I am hardening significantly, I notice, as I picked up the soap and start to lather my torso and legs. The bubbles feel soothing, and as I start to wash between my legs, my smooth-shaved balls and my stiffening cock I enjoy the sensation of the slippery lubricant between hand and flesh. I “wash” my cock more vigorously than is necessary for simple hygiene…if anyone saw me they would know I was masturbating! It feels so good. I turn away from the water and continue to soap my cock and balls, both hands stroking and caressing. I wonder idly why I don’t just go to her – I know she will be only too happy to take care of me…but I keep stroking anyway.
My right hand grips my balls and I roll them gently in my palm, enjoying the slippery soapy sensation. My left grasps my shaft firmly, long strokes from base to tip, back and forth. I stretch the foreskin to an uncomfortable tightness as my hand strokes back, then my fist slides tightly over the swollen purple head. Back and forth. Squeezing and stroking, soapy and slippery. Images play in my mind of her sensuous body, her bewitching eyes, her lustrous hair, her full breasts. Back and forth. Her mouth. Back and forth. Her tight pussy. Back and forth. Back and forth.
Long moments must have passed unnoticed. My heart is pounding, my breath growing shorter. The hot water continues to flood over me. An image of her gorgeous ass causes an involuntary quickening. Back and forth. I lean back against the wall and for a moment my eyes half open. My heart almost stops and I freeze.
She is standing in the doorway. Her long dark mane is tousled, half over her face and a strand is in her mouth. She is biting her lip, her firm tits heaving.
As I slide the shower door closed behind me I feel the first needle-like jets of hot water brush my back.
I turn into the water, closing my eyes and lifting my face up towards the source. Already the steam is building up in the bathroom and I fill my lungs with the warmth. It seems a shame to be washing her scent from my face; I can taste her in my mouth, still smell her delicate musk in my nostrils from where I buried my face in her, drinking her in. It hadn’t been licking or sucking so much as gorging. I had feasted upon her, a confusion of lips, tongue, mouth and face devouring her like a starving animal, drinking her in as she first wriggled and ultimately ground herself into me, her climax loud and profound. And I had stayed there as long as she had been able to stand my gentle caresses as she recovered, gasping for breaths of my own and bathing in her sweet juices. Dear Lord I love to make her cum like that.
As I lather the shampoo through my hair and rinse I can feel my cock twitch, provoked by my memories of the night before. I had left her curled up and purring softly; she had barely stirred as I silently slid from our bed. I had stolen a look back at her slumbering form, half concealed by the soft white sheet. She had looked so peaceful I had closed the bathroom door so as not to disturb her rest; she was going to need it as I had plans for that lithe little body of hers that would involve exertion.
I am hardening significantly, I notice, as I picked up the soap and start to lather my torso and legs. The bubbles feel soothing, and as I start to wash between my legs, my smooth-shaved balls and my stiffening cock I enjoy the sensation of the slippery lubricant between hand and flesh. I “wash” my cock more vigorously than is necessary for simple hygiene…if anyone saw me they would know I was masturbating! It feels so good. I turn away from the water and continue to soap my cock and balls, both hands stroking and caressing. I wonder idly why I don’t just go to her – I know she will be only too happy to take care of me…but I keep stroking anyway.
My right hand grips my balls and I roll them gently in my palm, enjoying the slippery soapy sensation. My left grasps my shaft firmly, long strokes from base to tip, back and forth. I stretch the foreskin to an uncomfortable tightness as my hand strokes back, then my fist slides tightly over the swollen purple head. Back and forth. Squeezing and stroking, soapy and slippery. Images play in my mind of her sensuous body, her bewitching eyes, her lustrous hair, her full breasts. Back and forth. Her mouth. Back and forth. Her tight pussy. Back and forth. Back and forth.
Long moments must have passed unnoticed. My heart is pounding, my breath growing shorter. The hot water continues to flood over me. An image of her gorgeous ass causes an involuntary quickening. Back and forth. I lean back against the wall and for a moment my eyes half open. My heart almost stops and I freeze.
She is standing in the doorway. Her long dark mane is tousled, half over her face and a strand is in her mouth. She is biting her lip, her firm tits heaving.
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I feel embarrassed. Horrified to have been caught I am a teenager again, suddenly ashamed; but in the same instant I see her right hand cupping and squeezing her breast. Her left hand is rubbing at her pussy, two fingers between her smooth, glistening lips. Her eyes are flitting from my cock to my face and she makes eye contact straight away. I can’t believe she has caught me jerking off. But my blood-starved brain slowly grasps the fact that she has been watching me masturbate and appears to be enjoying it. I don’t know how long but judging from her arousal probably for a while.
I hear her voice, barely audible over the rushing water. Two simple words. Spoken clearly and with authority as an instruction, but carrying underlying layers of tension, lust and need.
“Don’t stop”.
I resume my strokes. Long and firm. Squeezing and gripping. I stare into her eyes, now dark with longing. Her mouth is open and she is gasping for each breath, sucking in irregular gulps of air, her wrist a blur. And suddenly, I notice, so is mine. My embarrassment has quickly given way to extreme and urgent arousal. Back and forth, SO hard. She is watching me masturbate and enjoying it; my mind is screaming! Back and forth, back and forth.
I see her knees shaking a little as she braces herself against the frame, her legs squatting slightly as she tries to give herself a better angle. I can see her juices running down her wrist – good God, this is so hot!
Neither of us is breaking eye contact now. I feel joined with her, like when she rides me slow and deep, the intimate coupling just as much spiritual as physical. She is looking inside my very soul and I can tell she sees that I am close to cumming. My hand continues to stroke quickly, soapy and slick. Back and forth, back and forth. My balls are tightening and drawing upwards. Back and forth. I hear a voice – a guttural groan.
“Oh God”. My own voice, somehow distant and disjointed.
Four more words.
“Cum for me, baby”. Her voice, desperate and strained.
I can’t stop now. My strokes slow as I feel the surge toward the inevitable. My muscles are firing randomly and spasm out of control, shaking me to my core as the fire from within spears its way out in a glorious agony. One, two, three strong spurts spray the glass door and I cry out, still pumping away, my fist gripping and milking urgently. At that moment I hear her gasp and see her sink slowly to the floor, her head falling to her chest, shoulders heaving and fingers buried but now still. I fall to my knees, hands still gripping and stroking but with less vigour. I sit under the water fighting for breath and fix my gaze on the heap of hot girl crumpled in the doorway.
She raises her face to me, eyes sparkling and smiling. Slowly she gets unsteadily to her feet, gives me a long, lingering look then, grinning like the Cheshire cat, places her slick fingers into her mouth and slowly closes her luscious lips around them. For a long moment her eyes close in the ecstasy of her action - the chef tasting the perfect sauce - then with a wink, turns her back and sashays back into the bedroom.
I hear her voice, barely audible over the rushing water. Two simple words. Spoken clearly and with authority as an instruction, but carrying underlying layers of tension, lust and need.
“Don’t stop”.
I resume my strokes. Long and firm. Squeezing and gripping. I stare into her eyes, now dark with longing. Her mouth is open and she is gasping for each breath, sucking in irregular gulps of air, her wrist a blur. And suddenly, I notice, so is mine. My embarrassment has quickly given way to extreme and urgent arousal. Back and forth, SO hard. She is watching me masturbate and enjoying it; my mind is screaming! Back and forth, back and forth.
I see her knees shaking a little as she braces herself against the frame, her legs squatting slightly as she tries to give herself a better angle. I can see her juices running down her wrist – good God, this is so hot!
Neither of us is breaking eye contact now. I feel joined with her, like when she rides me slow and deep, the intimate coupling just as much spiritual as physical. She is looking inside my very soul and I can tell she sees that I am close to cumming. My hand continues to stroke quickly, soapy and slick. Back and forth, back and forth. My balls are tightening and drawing upwards. Back and forth. I hear a voice – a guttural groan.
“Oh God”. My own voice, somehow distant and disjointed.
Four more words.
“Cum for me, baby”. Her voice, desperate and strained.
I can’t stop now. My strokes slow as I feel the surge toward the inevitable. My muscles are firing randomly and spasm out of control, shaking me to my core as the fire from within spears its way out in a glorious agony. One, two, three strong spurts spray the glass door and I cry out, still pumping away, my fist gripping and milking urgently. At that moment I hear her gasp and see her sink slowly to the floor, her head falling to her chest, shoulders heaving and fingers buried but now still. I fall to my knees, hands still gripping and stroking but with less vigour. I sit under the water fighting for breath and fix my gaze on the heap of hot girl crumpled in the doorway.
She raises her face to me, eyes sparkling and smiling. Slowly she gets unsteadily to her feet, gives me a long, lingering look then, grinning like the Cheshire cat, places her slick fingers into her mouth and slowly closes her luscious lips around them. For a long moment her eyes close in the ecstasy of her action - the chef tasting the perfect sauce - then with a wink, turns her back and sashays back into the bedroom.
