the shower


You were running a little late for our planned dinner date.

“I need a quick shower before we head out. Make yourself comfortable on the couch and I’ll be out in ten minutes.” You quirked an eyebrow at me. “Unless you want to join me?”

I blushed a subtle pink. Ridiculous. I am no demure virgin. And yet there it was – heat in my cheeks. “I don’t mind waiting for you. Take the time you need.” 

I could hear your laughter echoing down the hallway as you strode away.

Sighing over my embarrassment, I curled up in a corner of the couch and tried to ignore the tempting idea of you in the shower. The first tingles of heat settled between my legs. I flipped through my phone. Looked through social media. Watched videos of puppies.

Distracting myself? Yes, yes I was.

A few minutes after hearing the water start, you called out to me. I’m a naive girl. I actually believed that you might need a towel. So I headed down the hallway towards you.

At the door, I knocked and asked what you needed. Firmly, you responded: “You. Get in here.”

Oh lordy. My heart started pounding instantly. Deep breaths. 

I opened the door and stepped into the steamy wet room.

You pulled back the curtain and the look you sent me could have melted rocks. “Clothes off. I want you in here with me.”

Why does it always make my knees weak to hear you when you talk like that? What is it about your firm, controlled, I-will-brook-no-arguments tone that shuts up my mouthy side and makes my eyes want to drop? I blush again and take off my jeans and socks. You watch me as I undress, folding my clothes into a neat little pile on the counter. 

But your patience is wearing thin. I pull my shirt over my head and fold it on top of the jeans and socks, feeling and hearing both your appreciation for the skin I’ve revealed and your impatience at my nervous dawdling.

You reach out, one wet hand closing around my upper arm firmly. “Get over here.” you growled.

“But I still need to take off my bra and…..” My protests die mid-sentence as you tug me into the shower, instantly soaking through my bra and panties. Your hands run over me, making quick work of my underthings, tossing them in a sodden heap in the corner of the shower. You pull me to you, and ohyesthereitis, naked skin on naked skin. You take my mouth with yours.

To hell with dinner, really. Wet tongues, wet skin, aches and need? They’re all I want right now. I’m a lot less nervous now that we’re touching. Now that I can feel your heat.

You set me back from you gently and hand me the soap. Your eyes glint at me. “Wash me.”

Shivers. I nod, take the soap and reach around you to get my hands directly under the spray, rubbing the bar between my palms, working up a lather. I start with your face, gently, fingers curling over your ears and sliding down your throat. 

Reload the soap. Your eyes don’t miss a thing. You’re studying my face. I keep my eyes lowered. I’m so excited that I’m afraid I’ll embarass myself with my need, my want if I look up and meet your gaze.

Touching your chest makes me so happy. Little happy noises escape my throat as I work over your skin, tiny fingertips circling and pressing, spreading suds over you, gliding over your nipples and feeling them harden. I slide my hands up over your shoulders and the action lifts my nipples to press against you. More shivers.

The pressure between my legs is getting harder to ignore. I didn’t expect to get this turned on, this quickly. My hands shake a little as I focus on washing your arms and hands – big, firm hands. God, I love your hands. My soapy fingertips work their way back up and dip under your arms. Such an intimate place to wash – in some ways even more intimate than your intimate parts. I am embarrassed by the little dreamy smile I can feel on my lips but also I’m enjoying myself way too much to ditch the smile.

I need to take more two person showers. Whew.

More soap reloaded on my fingers before I start south of your waist. My heart is definitely pounding. I can see how firm you are and – oh yes – I can feel it too. You want this too. Do I please you? God, I hope so.

I am very thorough. I am enjoying this far too much to rush. Small soapy circles. Curious, questing fingertips lather up the hair at your groin. I slide my fingers over you gently, avoiding getting soap at the very tip. I brush my lips against your chest while I reach my hands further down, encouraging you to spread your legs a little so I can reach all the crevices and dangly bits.

Your cock jerks just a little as I gently, so gently, circle and lather those dangly bits. Shivers again.

Torture, heart poundingly so, to crouch in front of you, all of your soapy bits laid out so close while I lather your legs and feet. I like your muscles here. It’s satisfying to dig in a little with my fingertips, feeling your strength. I also kind of wish you weren’t covered in soap. You’re so tempting in front of me.

I slowly stand up, our bodies brushing against one another all soapy and warm, and finally raise my eyes to yours. My cheeks are pinker than usual, and not just from the heat of the shower. “Okay. Can you turn around?”

You grin at me. Like you know I’m still feeling nervous and a little awkward and excited and… Damn you for enjoying my reactions to this. How embarassing.

I slide up behind you after you’ve turned, pushing my breasts into your back while my fingers work in the spray, rinsing off the soap. I enjoy, possibly a little too much, making sure there are no lingering bubbles on your cock, around your balls. The heat of you. It’s so tempting.

Can I just stay here, behind you, arms wrapped around you, naked breasts pushing into your back? It’s gotten a little chilly, washing you. My nipples are hard from the cold and from excitement and your back feels amazing against them. I rest my forehead on your shoulder as I warm up, wrapping my body against your back like a snake against a warmed stone.

“You’re not done yet,” you remind me. With a barely audible sigh I pull back from your body and slick up my hands again with lather. I massage your shoulders and work my hands down your spine, circling with my thumbs on either side. You groan a little and move against my hands. Lower, lower, until my soapy hands are running over your ass cheeks, dipping briefly in between.

You rumble at me, laughter in your voice. “Careful.”

I giggle at your back. “Just being thorough.”

I clean my fingers and soap up one more time to wash the backs of your legs, trailing fingertips gently across the backs of your knees. Pressing with my thumbs down your calves.

You’re so quiet. I hope it feels good.

Raising myself back up, I brush my chin on your shoulder and ask you to turn around so I can rinse your back off. You turn for me, eyes warm and enjoying my shy excitement. 

I reach around you. My nipples are brushing against your chest, your cock brushing against my belly, and I’m shivering again. Not from the cold. My hands sluice soap down your body with the water, being careful and making sure I get all the soap removed. 

I need to check your legs.

Which will put my face – oh lordy lordy lord.

I’m excited. Blushing. But my hands tremble a little in anticipation.

I crouch. My hands check your legs for soap and this puts a hard cock right beside my head. I can’t quite resist. I brush my cheek against you. Eyes closed. Just smelling and feeling you.

I stay there for a long moment and then look up at you. “May I?”

Your lips twitch. “You may.”

Water and man. Skin and heat. I brush my lips over your cock, just getting familiar with the texture, with the velvet combination of soft and hard that makes my knees go weak. I caress you with my mouth over and over until I just have to taste.

I circle you with my hands, pointing your delectably mushroomy head upright, and lay my tongue on that delightful ridge that runs on the underside. Slowly rubbing my tongue until I get to that sweet little divot where shaft meets head. I look up. Your eyes are closed; you seem to be enjoying my worship.

I tease and touch, flicker and taste, over and over with my tongue. Not hurrying. Just revelling in feeling you, tasting you. You eventually tire of the teasing, wanting more. You slide the fingers of one hand against my skull at the base of my neck. You don’t pull, exactly; just guide me to where you want me to be. And you keep your hand buried in my hair, connecting with me while I surround you with small hands and slide the tip of your cock into my mouth.

I’m moaning under my breath now. You probably can’t hear it thanks to the pounding water. I wonder if you can feel the vibration as I slide you in and out of my mouth, slick and velvety.

I try to use everything at my disposal. Hands, fingertips, tongue, soft mouth, teeth carefully wrapped behind my lips. Oh, how I want you to enjoy this. The heat between my thighs stays a solid pulse while I bob up and down on your cock.

Your hand tightens against my scalp, so careful to not force me onto your cock, but still showing me how this is affecting you, how close you’re getting. I am shaking, hoping to hear you groan. I would love to wring cries from you. 

Closer still, you start to make small sounds as I use my hands to help extend and draw out the pleasure while my mouth, soft and wet, pulls on you. I feel a thrill that runs through my whole body. Yes. 

You warn me that you’re about to come. I seal my lips a little more firmly around you and keep up the pace. I want you to come in my mouth. Please.

Hot, salty, you shoot inside me while your hand trembles a little in my hair, shaking with the restraint of not shoving me down hard over your cock.

I slide you gently in and out a few more times, wringing the last tremors from you, before letting you slip from my mouth. I kiss you gently and then stand up.

You slide your hands over my arms, coming to grip my upper arms firmly and bring me to you, kissing me firmly. “I’m very pleased.” I blush and dip my forehead against your shoulder while water sluices over us both. But you’re not done.

You manhandle me into changing places with you, and then soap up your own hands. I start to protest that I don’t need washing, then shut up when you slide your hands, so gently, over my nipples, letting them slide out from between your fingers. Soft grip, slide, just the barest of pulls. Grip, slide, pull. I’m shaking.

You’re pulling hot tight wires all over my body. Damn. You’re driving me crazy. 

Sensing this, you up the ante by lowering your mouth to my neck. Hot, wet kisses. Every part of my body is waking up, high alert, dragging sensations all over. God. I feel your teeth close on me, testing me, and I cry out. In pain? Yes. In pleasure? Yes. 

Holy hell.

I need more. I need everything. I am ready to do whatever it takes. I need your hands in more places. 

“Please,” I breathe. “Oh, please.”

You reluctantly let go of my nipples, amused by my little whine. You grab handfuls of water to pour down my body, washing away the soap. Your hands spread over me, digging in, rubbing over my soft curves as I push up against you. As you hold me against you, I can feel your cock stir. Your mouth stays on my neck, kissing, nibbling, biting every now and then. My knees are getting weak. Lord.

Chuckling, you reach behind you to grab a bottle. Silicone lube. Oh dear.

You pour some into your hands and rub them together, greedily, before reaching your hands between my thighs. You urge them apart. And then… Your fingers slick over me, touching gently, and separating me very slowly. I gasp as hot water runs between my pussy lips.

Is it shocking when I feel your fingers slowly spreading lube between my lips? Is it mindblowing? I don’t know. I can’t think. Everything in my entire body is focused on following the path of your fingers and the mindblowing sensations they’re creating on my skin.

Is it safe to hold your breath this long? I’m afraid to breathe, afraid the slightest move will make you stop what you’re doing and I never want you to stop what you’re doing. 

Circles. Figure eights. Slippery slick folds and fingers.

I’ve given up on keeping my shit together and am now groaning with every swipe of your fingers. I feel your teeth again on my shoulder. I’m shaking. Good lord man. This should be illegal.

One finger slides further back. Circles around the entrance to my pussy. Just bare circles, lightly done, driving me out of my mind, while your other hand continues its gentle, relentless, assault on my clit.

I can’t. I know I can’t. No way am I going to be able to stay standing through this. My knees are rubber. I grip your upper arms and shoulders with my wet hands, trying to steady myself.

“That’s it.” you murmur. “Hold on to me, sugar.”

You pause your hands for a moment to dip your head and take my nipple into your hot, wet mouth. My moans are starting to become whines.

Smiling, you stand back up and resume the naughty movements of your fingers. You catch the base of my clit between two slick fingers, so gently, and move your fingers away from my body. Pulling my clit, it feels like a tiny hot wet mouth sucking on me. I’m trembling.

God god god.

Higher and higher. You’re driving me relentlessly now. Wild noises come out of my mouth. My hands dig into you, trying to remain upright. Legs shaking with the effort.

You growl into my ear before catching my earlobe between your teeth. “Come for me.”

Everything tightens and tightens some more. I need something. I need something. I don’t know what I need. You’re – I’m – it’s too much and not enough and I need I need I need

One of your hands slides up my body and reaches for my nipple, catching it between two fingers and giving it a hard squeeze, the pain buried beneath the sensations buffeting my body.

Whining, everything in my body breaks at once. I’m not even there. I’m just holding on and making noise. I don’t even feel the water any more, hot against my back. I just feel you. The whole world has condensed to just you while I clench and shiver and shake and spasm.

You wrap your big hot palm around my pussy, holding in the tremors, and with the other hand bury my face in your shoulder, stroking my back while I come down.

After a few minutes, I raise my head to look at you. You kiss me deeply. “Ready for dinner?”

I shake my head. “I can’t go out for dinner! My bra and panties are soaked!”

Your smile is pure evil. “Yes you can, and yes you will.”

And yes, I blushed. Again.

About the author

Vikki McKay


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