by Cole, Abbie
“Holy shit.” I hear him say before he grabs my head, kissing my mouth. His lips are soft and hot against mine. I sweep my tongue into his mouth and reach down, plunging my hand in his shorts wrapping my hand around his smooth hard cock, squeezing and pumping my fist while he feasts on my mouth cupping my breasts, flicking and plucking my nipple through the tight material of my sports bra, rubbing his thumb over my distended peak. I suck on his tongue as I press and rub against his hot muscles.
He releases his hold on me only long enough to rip my shorts down my hips. He groans, kneeing my legs apart and settling himself between them before wrapping his big hands around my round, firm ass. Slowly, torturously, he lifts me up so that I can wrap both of my legs snugly around his waist opening my pussy to welcome his entrance. “Do you want me?”
My heart hammers in my chest, a rush of heat swells over me as my pussy nuzzles against his groin. I know I am hot and ready and spread open for him. I am wet and on the verge of what is surely going to be the most spectacular orgasm I have ever experienced. He pushes his shorts down, his cock surges free, taking himself in hand stroking himself up and down my slick heat, his rigid muscle poised at the entrance to my body. “Do you want this?”
“God, yes.” I don’t want him to stop. I want him to impale me with his impressive length. “Don’t stop now.”
Then he surges, entering me in one smooth thrust.
“Ah,” I whimper with each pump of his thick and hard as steel rod inside me.
Sweat drips off his body dotting my shirt. Leaning forward my tongue darts out to taste his salty skin, sucking and licking every inch that I can reach.
“Yes. God, yes.” He rams his cock deep. His tight balls press against my ass before he pulls out thrusting savagely into me again.
“There.” I grip the back of his skull, burying my fingers in his hair. “Right there.”
He pumps in and out establishing a rhythm that increases until I can’t think anymore. This is what I have fantasized about. This is what I need. The best fuck of my life. The almost urgent pounding of his hips when he tunnels into my snug sheath and slams me repeatedly against the cool mirrored wall. I reach around to squeeze his ass at the same time he clamps down on one of my nipples and sucks hard.
The intensity of my climax, overwhelming.
I scream seconds before he captures my overly enthusiastic cries with his mouth, thrusting his tongue into my mouth in perfect harmony with his cock thrusting into my pussy. Each plunge of his huge dick set my throbbing pussy on fire. I don’t think there is any way possible I can have another orgasm, but it happens anyway. With each frantic pump upward of his cock into the depths of my pussy, I begin to tremble, urging him to come in my pussy. Gripping his back with my ankles and clutching his ass with my hands until he finally explodes his milky potion. Hot spurts of his salty release shoot into my core, warming me, dripping down my thighs.
He wraps his arms around me and kneels down, sliding me down the mirror until I am straddled across his lap his softening cock sliding out of me with my forehead resting on his chest.
“What a workout!”
STEAM
“You can hit the shower first,” he calls from his bedroom. “I appreciate your help today.”
“No problem, I can just head back to my apartment,” I reply from the hallway. “That’s what neighbors are for.”
“No, just rinse off here,” he insists. “I’m making dinner as a thank you.”
“Okay.” I head to the bathroom, shut the door and lean back, my heart beating wildly in my chest. I have wanted him since the day he moved in two years ago. And so far nothing has happened. We have been little buddies, little helpers, reality TV, pizza eating, platonic ‘friends’ and I would like that to change. Now!
I force myself to close my mouth and breathe through my nose. I ought to settle down and get back in control. By breathing a few deep breaths to calm myself, I pick up the scent of Brock’s cologne. It rises over the sweaty, dirty smell of my body. I raise my arm and sniff. Oh, God! I haven’t smelled like this all day, have I? How in the hell am I ever going to have sex with him if I smell like this? And now is the perfect opportunity. I’m in his apartment, about to be naked. All I have to do is leave the bathroom door unlocked. Ooh, maybe I’ll even leave it slightly ajar. The sound of the shower can be his aphrodisiac.
Hmmm…clever. Very clever.
Tingles travel to my pussy imagining him pressing up against me. I fight the urge to walk straight into his bedroom and strip off my clothes. Screw the shower.
Ironically, having fast and furious sex seems like the logical thing to do, because we have just worked up a sweat. Our blood is pumping; well at least my blood is pumping. Don’t people have sex occasionally after they’ve been working hard; after working up a sweat? People have sex when they are trying to release the tension from a long days exertions. I’ve seen it a million times on TV, but I’ve never experienced the feeling firsthand. Suddenly I‘m now convinced that I should live in the moment, because I might not have many moments left.
Shaking my head, I laugh. Talking about melodramatic, my sister would get a real kick out of knowing I’d helped my neighbor move stuff around his apartment to help him paint. She’s been after me for months to make a move. Threatening me that she would, if I didn’t. She keeps telling me that my careful existence is an embarrassment. I need hot, desperate, sweaty, dirty sex. Maybe she is right.
Come to think of it, maybe my sister has overemphasized the dirty, just to put me on the hot seat. Or maybe not. A guy like Brock who is mysterious, with seriously hot friends and who rarely dates should send up some sort of red flags. No matter how often I tell myself that he is a normal guy, maybe I should just ask. Maybe he’s gay, and I’m wasting my valuable youth flirting?
So I’m going to ask, right after my shower. Right now, I’m sweaty and grungy. I can do with a cool shower. I’ll feel much more like facing whatever is coming my way after getting cleaned up. With luck he has bath supplies. There is only one way to find out and that is by sliding open the shower curtain and voila. Wow. He even has conditioner. Definitely gay. Fuck.
I can smell something delicious wafting from the kitchen. He wasn’t kidding when he said he was going to make me something delicious. Almost smells like Italian. Ooh, I hope he’s making his lasagna. It’s to die for. The thought of food makes me feel hungry, which for some reason takes me back to the image of his chest that is ingrained in my mind. When he pulled his T-shirt over his head earlier and tossed it aside, no doubt because of the heat. I gulped. His exposed overly muscular, lightly furred chest caused issues with my fevered brain. How did lasagna turn into his chest? I’ve definitely got some serious issues.
I stand as if nailed to the bath matt, my mind riveted on the superhero ridges of his stomach. He is a man with muscles to burn. Oh, to run my hands along those…I moan in the quiet bathroom and it seems to echo. I slap my hand over my mouth. The picture in my mind brings an intense wetness between my legs as I imagine hearing him moan, as I caress him and bring him to orgasm. I clench my jaw. Then, calling on my famous control, I remove my clothes and quietly shut the door. I’ll have to handle temptation one moment at a time and hope I’ll be strong enough.
Inside the bathroom I turn on the water. I search for a new razor, because I definitely want to be prepared. I don’t want any surprises and I definitely don’t want to scrape him with a week’s worth of stubble.
I wonder if Brock has condoms? A lack of condoms would be one more thing to keep me in check. Did it even matter, if he’s gay?
Ah, geez. Why must I always be attracted to unavailable men? I’m in hell, is where I am—naked in the same house with the sexiest man alive coupled with my own overly zealous libido. I run my hand down to my pussy, touching myself, rubbing my slick finger over my clit. Gasping at the pleasure I am inflicting. Yep. Hell.
………………………….
The sound of the shower running must have
filtered gradually through Brock’s brain. It has been two long years since he’s listened to someone else take a shower.
So she is in my shower. And she is hot and sticky, because of helping me out today. I would love to be in the shower, too. With her. But I have tried to convince myself that it’s a bad idea. However, she is naked in the shower. How strong can anyone expect a man to be, when he has a naked woman in his shower?
Okay, what if I announce to her that I only want one meaningless sexual experience? I could assure her that I have no permanent designs on her; but that I need one female-induced orgasm or I’ll go crazy. It seems like a reasonable request, and we’ve become friends over the past two years.
Now is the time to ask, when she is already naked. At least there is no awkward undressing scene, no chance for second thoughts. One quick orgasm, that’s all I need or really want. Then I’ll leave her alone. So it’s decided. One little orgasm won’t matter so much, would it? After that, I’ll be a good boy.
Leaving the kitchen, I step out of my jeans and boxers and walk toward the closed bathroom door. As I open it, the sound of a washcloth slapping against bare skin stops.
The shower curtain tucked inside the rim of the bathtub is opaque, darn it. I would have loved a sneak preview. I will have to remember to buy a clear one the next time I’m at the store. Even so, my imagination paints a vivid picture of her standing on the other side of that curtain, water dripping off her…everything.
………………………
“Brock?” My voice rises nervously. Just breathe. Just breathe. Just breathe.
“Yeah, just me,” he replies.
“Oh.” Long pause. “I, uh, thought I’d go ahead and take a shower here.” I know I sound very, very nervous. “Since you’re making dinner.”
“I think that’s a great idea. You were hot, and some cool water sounds wonderful about now.” I can hear him stepping closer to the tub.
“I’m almost done. In fact, I’ve been in here long enough. If you want to have the bathroom next, I’ll be out in no time. No time at all.” I am definitely in nervous mode.
Two long years of sitting with him, eating with him and smelling him has proven to be all too long. All of a sudden, it became surprisingly very quiet.
“Brock? Are you still out there? Listen, I am thinking we need to...” I freeze as he reaches for the shower curtain.
“Let me give you a suggestion.” He pulls aside the curtain. “Ohmygod, you’re naked.” Oh, yeah. This will be excellent.
He looks really good without clothes, too, as I stand here with water sluicing off every naked inch of me. The spray of the water patters all around me, dampening my skin and making my nipples tighten even more.
I don’t move at all. I clutch a washcloth in one hand and a bar of soap in the other while I stare at him with a shell-shocked expression. I’m so excited that he is already turned on.
If I wasn’t so sexually excited, I might laugh.
Then a part of him moves. The part that interests me the most right now. If I get the attention of that certain part, we are in business. Maybe he’s not gay after all. He is staring at my pussy. My smooth, shaven pussy, and he must like it. Sure enough, in no time that area of his anatomy is fully deployed and ready for action.
I must have been squeezing the bar of soap really hard, though, because suddenly it squirts out of my hand and smacks against the wall of the tub. We both jump at the loud noise.
At once, we both begin speaking.
“Brock, I—“
“Katie, I want—“
I gulp and speak again. “I’m not sure this is a good idea.”
He glances down at his rigid cock. “Then I’d better have a word with my little buddy. He obviously thinks this is a great idea. And I can’t help it. You’re naked in a shower. And I’m a normal, healthy man.”
My chest rises and falls with my rapid breathing. “I thought you were gay.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, disbelief in his eyes. “You think I’m gay?”
“You’ve never tried anything with me.”
“I’ve been walking around my apartment for two long years with a hard-on and you thought I was gay. Unbelievable.”
I gaze into his eyes. “You never made a move. You never even tried to touch me.”
His gaze locks with mine and his throat moves in a slow swallow. “I…I see.”
“I’m a sex-starved woman, I couldn’t even bring myself to sleep with anyone else. I wanted you so bad.”
“So you’re saying you’ve not had a sexual relationship with anyone for two years?” I can see he looks flabbergasted.
“Well, about a year and a half.” I look down. “After I got to know you better.”
“You should have said something to me.”
“You should have said something to me.” I countered.
“Touché.” His arms are crossed over his magnificent chest. “So what do we do now?”
I reach out and wrap my fingers around his thick shaft, using it as a grab-bar. “You better come in, ready or not. But I think you’re more than ready.”
When I grab hold of him, I groan.
My washcloth drops with a splat into the water swirling over the bottom of the tub as I reach for him. I need both hands free, one to touch his chest, to explore the magical territory I’d dreamed of every time I looked at him. His chest alone is enough to keep me occupied for a very long time. Fingers splayed, I reverently curve my hand more tightly around his cock as the blood surges through my body in a tidal wave of lust.
I have a firm hold on his cock as he backs me against the wet marble and gazes down at my flushed face. I can hardly believe that he is about to satisfy every craving I’ve ever had, starting with kissing his full lips. But I’ll have to let go of him or I don’t think we will even make it through the kiss.
“Let go,” he murmurs, his voice is thick and a little shaky with anticipation. “I promise I’m not going anywhere.”
“But I love the feel of you.” I rub my thumb along the underside of his shaft. “It’s been so long.”
“Then maybe you’ve forgotten what’s liable to happen if you keep that up.”
“No, I haven’t.”
His smile is one-hundred-percent male and one-hundred-percent seduction.
“I haven’t forgotten.” I begin stroking him more firmly, my thumb circling the very tip.
He closes his eyes. “Katie, stop.” He reaches down and holds my wrist. “Or I’ll come.”
“Maybe I want that. Maybe I want to make you lose control.”
He tightens his grip on my wrist. “No, not yet. You’re the one who’s gone a year and a half without sex. And besides, the man is supposed to satisfy the woman first, so you need to let—
“No, you let me.” I tug his head down and brush my mouth against his, teasingly. “Kiss me, Brock. Kiss me while I make you come.”
So that’s how this first kiss turns out. He let go of my wrist and let me have my way with him. Bracing both hands on the marble behind my head; he lowers his mouth to mine and I kiss him hard, and he kisses me back just as hard, thrusting his tongue inside as I give him a hand job. He has to stop kissing me so he can gasp for breath between his groans of ecstasy.
He comes hard.
“Damn,” slips from my lips.
………………………………….
I hadn’t planned anything, but once I’d laid my hands on Brock’s stiff cock, I’d felt obligated to see what I could do with it. Maybe I’ve been challenged because I had thought he was gay for so long until I had seen his cock jutting out.
The cool water streaming out of the shower continued to cool my skin. He remained with his hands braced on the marble behind my head his eyes squeezed shut as he fought for breath. I wonder if he knows how sexy he looks. In the aftermath of an orgasm that has left me trembling and I haven’t even come yet, he probably doesn’t even care.
He opens his eyes, blinks and sh
akes his head. “Wow.”
“You liked that?”
“Oh, yeah.” His gaze travels down my body. He seems almost proud of the fact.
I smile, thinking how cute he is after an orgasm.
Pushing away from the wall, he turns and steps into the spray. As he turns back to me, his hair is plastered to his head and water drips from his eyelashes. He leans down, to retrieve the washcloth, and begins stroking it over my breasts.
The cotton terry moving over my nipples has never had the effect it is presently having when I used one in the past. Then again, I’ve never lingered over the process. And Brock is a man with a surprising talent for lingering, given how efficient he normally is.
“You’re skin turns rosy pink when I do this.” He re-wet the washcloth in the cool spray while rubbing lazy circles over my breast and tummy, paying special attention to my nipples.
I sigh at the pleasure of his caress. “I have…sensitive skin.” This is pure heaven.
“Am I being too rough?”
“No…oh, no.” I close my eyes and lean my head back against the marble. “I—I love it.” I moan.
“I thought so. Every once in a while you make this little hum deep in your throat.”
Eyes still closed, I focus on the texture of the washcloth moving over my skin. Then an even better tactile sensation joins the caress of the cotton terry. He begins following the path of the washcloth with his tongue. When he reaches my nipple, he pauses to suck on it for a while as he continues to massage the other with the cloth.
Yes. A burning tingle shoots straight down between my legs, nudging me closer to an orgasm. As if reading my mind, he moves the washcloth between my thighs.
