Shower Time

Image by Luis Wilker Perelo WilkerNet from Pixabay

I love stepping into the steam-filled shower. Even when you’re not there, I think of the water cascading down your curves. I detach the showerhead from its arm and switch it to pulsation, letting the jets drum against my heated skin.

My fingers pull at already erect nipples, twisting them as you would. Hot water parts my engorged folds and seeks out my stiffened clit. I moan, the sound of my need echoing off the tiles.

I think about your hands pulling my cheeks apart, your tongue seeking that forbidden part of me. Tongue playing across my rim and soon entering my tight pucker, I would try and relax into the sensation. Your fingers would enter me, first two and then three.

The fantasy increasing my desire, I bend over and let my head rest against the warm, slick granite and groan deeply as the orgasm builds in my belly and radiates down to my legs and up into my brain.

My cheek presses to the stone as I let my head loll to one side, a strand of drool running from my slack lips. Nails claw at my nipples and I drop the showerhead replacing it with my free hand.

My own fingers plunge into me as yours would, seeking my G spot. I slide down the tile until I’m laying on my back. Finally able to give myself over completely to the sensation of my hands on my body, I scream out orgasm after orgasm, your name falling from my lips.

The shower door slides back and you tower above me, grinning. “Started without me?” You step in and your mound descends towards my face like a gift from heaven.

I rise to meet it and soon your taste fills my mouth as my fingers and tongue begin the dance I only fantasized about moments ago.

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