His Turn
He was taking his time in the shower. He doesn’t often, so I suppose I can’t begrudge him taking extra minutes under the endless supply of hot water. What the hell was he doing, though? He stands in front of the sink to shave. He does not deep condition or moisturize, nor does he exfoliate. I want my shower. There is another bathroom, but this is my bathroom he’s currently occupying, where my shampoo and conditioner and body wash and exfoliating cream and body sponge and all the rest are waiting for me. I’d had a long day, as well. I deserved a shower as much as him. I am curious to know what is taking him so long; the idea of him standing amidst the steam and water is delicious.
I turn the knob as quietly as possible, carefully opening the door as little as possible so the heat does not escape. I squeeze through the narrow gap and into the steam-filled room. The room is a sauna, and he is barely visible through the sheer shower curtain. He groans, a familiar, sexy sound that tilts my lips into a smile. I see his outline, his forearm is resting against the shower wall, his head resting against his arm as the water pelts his back.
I slip off my robe while my eyes never leave his outline. I open the shower curtain and slip inside. For a moment, I stand on the other side of the water, not interrupting the steady stream pelting against his back. I step closer until I am sharing the spray with him, brushing against his back as my arms wrap around his waist. He leans back slightly so that his back is pressed against my chest. His hand reaches back to caress the curve of my hip and the swell of my bottom.
I turn slightly and reach for the bar of soap he favors. Building lather quickly, I start at his neck, gently massaging the knotted muscles. When he rolls his neck in appreciation, I slide my hands to his shoulders and down his arms, spreading lather over the hot, wet skin. His muscles twitch beneath my fingertips as I trail them through the bubbles up once more to his back. Grabbing the soap again, I rub the bar between my hands then press both my hands and the soap to his back, spreading and smearing lather and bubbles across his shoulder blades and down his spine. My fingers reach his sides and the muscles stretched over his ribs. It is then he reaches back with his other arm so that both of his large, wide hands cover my bottom, cupping me and pulling me closer. The top of my sex brushes against the bottom of his firm cheeks, and my hands slide over his stomach and up his chest. I rub myself against him, my breasts and stomach slip and slide against his back and our wet slick skin is growing hotter than the water and steam. I stroke his chest, running my fingers through the coarse hair scattered across the hard surface and trails down his belly. His fingers grip me tighter for a moment, then his touch turns gentle, and he begins running his fingertips gently underneath the round globes of flesh, knowing I’m ticklish. Turning playful, I let my hand casually drop down to his cock, already hard and jutting. I rub the lather into his wiry pubic hair then lower, massaging gently, letting my fingers roll his balls gently in my hand and covering them in the slick bubbles.
His hand tickles me as it makes its way around my hip. Fingers slip expertly between my folds, seeking my wetness and heat. He knows just how to touch, just how much pressure to use for maximum pleasure. He circles my clit gently, once, twice, before seeking my hot channel. I press my breasts against his back for support as he plunges two fingers inside me, and the force and fullness of his possession takes me by surprise.
My cheek is pressed to his shoulder blade, and I’m panting with excitement. I press my sex into his hand, silently urging for more. My hand reaches for his cock, stiff and eager for attention, and my hand begins pumping slowly. I twist my wrist slightly as I near his glans, just as he likes, and his guttural groan shoots straight to my clit. I speed the movements of my hand, the soap acting like lubrication, and he begins thrusting. With my other hand I find his nipple. I rub and flick each in turn, occasionally pinching lightly, and he becomes impatient. He thrusts a third finger inside me as his thumb rubs relentlessly at my clit, and I shriek. I rub my thumb across the head of his cock, and in turn his thumb presses against my clit forcefully.
He pivots quickly, his hand never leaving my pussy, and leans down to kiss me. Our lips rub together eagerly, our tongues find each other, rubbing and tasting. My hand is still wrapped around him, my other is now draped around his neck. His free arm snakes around my waist and lifts me, raising me to his chest. I wrap my legs around his lean hips.
He falls against the back wall of the shower, bracing himself and planting his feet wide on the shower floor. He removes his fingers from my wetness as I guide his cock inside. He thrusts sharp and deep, catching my breath in the back of my throat. My head falls back and he wraps his arms around my back and hips. We stand motionless for a moment, our bodies adjusting and welcoming. I lift my head and look into his eyes, and with a quick smile, his mouth is on mine, his tongue dipping into my mouth over and over as he begins moving me forcefully up and down on his cock.
I plant my feet against the shower wall so that I may spread my knees a bit wider, taking him deeper. With a flex of his hips, he’s buried to the hilt, and I whimper as he bumps up against my cervix over and over. My hand reaches out to grab the metal shower bar that had been installed by the previous owner. With my feet on the wall, his arms around my lower back and hips, and my other arm around his bulging, straining bicep, I grasp the bar with my other hand and lean back. The water is rushing over my neck and breasts, running down my stomach to where our bodies are joining.
The slapping of skin against skin is augmented with the splashing of water. The angle of which I am positioned is over whelming. Over and over his hard length rubs my G-spot, causing my muscles to quiver. He pushes my hips down onto him, and my clit gets more direct stimulation. It is too much, and I cannot hold back my orgasm. He shifts so that the water hits my clit, as well, and I yelp.
He lifts me so that I am not almost bent backwards and sets my trembling feet and legs onto the shower floor.
“On your knees,” he says, his voice almost lost under the noise of the still-falling water. He reaches above me and tilts the showerhead so that it is not raining water onto my face. Still quaking with the aftershocks of my own release, I take his engorged cock in my hand and draw it into my mouth. I lick my essence off of the head and down the sensitive underside before engulfing him with my lips and tongue. He holds still, letting my mouth and throat adjust to his length and girth, then, taking my head in his hands, he begins slowly thrusting in and out, his cock sliding over my curled tongue and pursed lips. His fingers tangle themselves in my wet hair as he begins thrusting faster and harder. He knows my limits, how much of him I can take, and yet we always strain those boundaries, each wanting more and more of the other. He pauses while I cough and gag, the ropey saliva dribbling down my chin and onto my heaving chest. I lean back, and the shower spray runs down my face and breasts, washing me clean to begin again.
I look up at him and grin eagerly, the intensity shining in his eyes tells me he is close to completion, and once more I take him in my mouth. My lips and hands now work together to drive him further and further along. I reach up and grab his balls now drawn close to his body, and gently massage his perineum with the tip of my forefinger. He grunts and thrusts powerfully into my mouth. Careful not to loosen my hold on his magnificent flesh, I run my finger lightly back and forth, working closer to his anus, knowing what drives him to the cliff and what sends him off. His fingers are almost painful in my hair, his grip on my skull tight, and yet that does not slow me down on my quest. I want to drive him mad, take away all thought and reason until he is fucking my mouth and my face with abandon. Until his cock is buried so far down my throat that neither can tell where he ends and I begin.
I reach his most sensitive place, that small puckered hole that he is ashamed to admit brings him so much pleasure. I don’t often push him so far, but tonight he is feverish and willing to submit to my carnal desire. Blindly, I reach out a hand and find the bar of soap. Working it with one hand, I add just enough soap to my palm and fingers to make my questing fingers pleasurable for him, then continue. Taking a deep breath, I let my fingers once more find his secret pleasure spot, and as I do, he thrusts deep into my mouth. I relax my throat as best as I can as I circle his sensitive skin, and as I slowly bear down, trying to gain entrance, he begins fucking my face in earnest. I clench his hip with my one hand as the other slowly applies more pressure, and as he relaxes enough for me to slip inside, he pulls out of my mouth and comes over my face. I slowly wiggle the tip of my finger inside his body, and he grunts loudly again, sending more of his white, sticky mess over my chin. He takes loud deep breaths, and I let my finger slip slowly from him.
Gently, he kneels in front of me and tilts my head back under the stream of water, softly wiping his semen from my heated flesh, then brings my face to his. He kisses me gently, but deeply.
Together, we slowly stand and he adjusts the spray once more so that the water is now washing our flushed skin. We take turns washing each others sensitive skin, and as he reaches behind me to turn off the water then opens the curtains so that we may exit, he asks, “What took you so long to get in here?”
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