Shape

The Shower

She knew she could sing, but she wasn’t in the mood. She had the house to herself, and she was going to enjoy it. The month had been hard, one shift after another, the kind that gave her no time to think never mind relax. She’d worked her backside off for little thanks and nowhere near the money she deserved, but that was then, and she only had thoughts for now. Kicking off her slippers, the furry ones I’d bought to tease her, but the ones she loved all the same, and warbling contentedly off key, she reached inside, tugged the cord and pressed the button to start her day of indulgence. Water splashed against the tiles – the sleet grey slate still cold despite the warmth that cloaked our bed in fog. She didn’t notice, didn’t even care. It was time for her, and she felt good. Shrugging her clothes and shedding the rest, she stripped while she walked, naked in time to feel the water wrap around her body, soothing and easing her aching limbs: last night had been hard. She’d liked it even more, but it did nothing to stop her cringing. She’d been loud. She knew it. How much had been overheard? How could she face her new neighbours? What would she say to them? Flushed with embarrassment and excitement at being caught, she tilted the showerhead and felt the jet pulse between her thighs.

It turned, but the lock stuck again. It always did in summer. I’d had words, but no amount of persuasion, gentle or otherwise, had convinced it to change. It was stubborn, and that was that, but my mind was elsewhere. She’d been wild. We both had. I had the marks to prove it. She’d scratched harder than before, but I’d driven her to it. Fingering them lazily, I finally broke the door’s resistance, looking forward to a day to myself. She had shopping to do: my taste was too sparse, too single. It wasn’t, but I’d nodded in the right places. If it made her feel at home, I had no complaints. With a long and longing look behind me, I closed the door, loosened my tie, undid the top few buttons of my shirt and went to pour myself a drink. 

Her heart was thumping now, the jet hitting just the way she liked. Water bounded off her skin, every inch tingling at its touch, her bruises sensitive, but their sharpness thrilled her. Her nipples were worse: achingly hard. She cupped them in her hand, mauled each breast, felt the pain left by my touch. An electric surge pulsed up and down her senses as she lifted them in turn to catch the flow of water before pulling on them, stretching them out, forcing herself to moan. It excited her too much, too much for her to take. With one hand still massaging, almost groping at her flesh, she pressed her other down quick tight between her legs, snapped her eyes shut and pictured the night before. We fucked against the door the second we were home. Her dress rucked up, knickers ripped away, one hand restraining her, her arms locked behind her back, the other working her pussy, torturing her clit. She’d soaked the new-bought fabric bunched between her thighs. My fingers glistened, and our kisses collided. My bulging dick now freed to own her whole. A single thrust and she was mine – claimed completely. We fucked like sex-starved dogs, driving our hips together, our grunts and groans rebounding down the hallway as I bit her throat and hammered home my cock. We couldn’t last and didn’t care. Growling low and deep, I pulled her down and made her cum, her pussy clamped around my shaft. A final moan and she did the same, my seed spurting up inside her. Breathless and fucked, we fell on to the mat, panting hard and clinging tight.

My heart was thumping now, my pulse racing as I reached the top. I’d taken them quickly, two at a time from the moment I heard her moan. She’d cut me through, each breathless groan lost between want and need, agony and ecstasy, her senses blotting out her mind until nothing but lust remained. I needed her now, and my cock strained at my trousers to prove it. It was hard, and I couldn’t help myself. Another cry from her and I took my length in hand, the velvet-smooth hardness held and stroked from base to tip. Tugging at my shirt with one hand, stripping to the waist, arching my back, I stood and rubbed my shaft, low rumbling groans matching her frantic yelps as her fingers found her sopping wet lips and she fucked herself fast towards an orgasm she had no idea she’d share. I was achingly hard as I squeezed my shaft and yanked on my balls, wanking myself over her like I hadn’t done for anyone in years. My voice echoed across the landing, but she didn’t hear – her gasps just as loud. I wanked myself over her, teasing my swollen purple tip, getting myself close but not close enough to let go, no chance of wasting my load that was meant for her mouth. She was nearly there, so near I could taste it, each cracked and broken sigh demanding more from both of us as she slammed her fingers and I worked my hand. Her stomach muscles were tensing, I knew it. Her body was balancing on the edge, every part ready to jump, ready to dive headlong into her climax. I was desperate to fuck her, to wring her clean of every drop of pleasure, but she could wait, wait until her orgasm wrecked her body and left her too sensitive to touch.Then I heard her call out my name and beg to be fucked. It excited me too much, too much for me to take. There was no way I could wait, even if I thought she could. One step and I left the stairs behind me, my shoes kicked off and my trousers too. Another heartbeat and my hand was on the handle, the only thing that kept us apart. She squealed in shock, but she couldn’t stop her climax from breaking across her body. It was too strong and she was powerless as her pleasure overrode her shame. Driven by the thrill of it, she came hard as she ever had on her own, her orgasm crumpling her back against the tiles, still no idea who’d surprised her, the en suite too full of steam for her to see. I was soaked before she saw me, the water pouring down on both of us. Her mind had gone, lost to another place, only sensation remained. She couldn’t think, but had no need. She  could feel, and she felt free – not that anything made sense. She knew she had to catch her breath, she was sure, calm her pulse and come down for long enough to tear her body from the unforgiving slate, but she never got chance. I had her in my arms before she knew it, her ruined body held and pinned, our lips together inescapably drawn, kisses fierce and tongues tangled, each touch telling her it was me, my length pulsing against her to rid her of any doubt. It was unbearable, and she couldn’t cope. She threw herself against me, her head pressed into my chest, her moans barely muffled as I stroked my finger across her clit denying her any hint of relief. Another orgasm was building deep inside her. I felt her tense in my arms, my hand moving with her, pushing her further, responding to every pant and groan. She was on the brink of her climax, her arms wrapped tight as her legs went weak and she surrendered to the pressure of my fingers. Every part of her ached to cum, begged for it, but not yet. I needed her first. With one move, I bent her over and spread her just enough. My cock was rampant, pulsing in my hand. One slap and then another as I ground it into her clit, rubbed it against her lips, made her wait, drew out the seconds, left her frustrated to the point of distraction while the shower threw its water on our desperate bodies.

I had to have her, couldn’t wait. It went: shower, steam, earth. Everything dissolved as I worked myself inside her. There was her, our pleasure and nothing else. Closed around me, lost in her body, I held her where I needed her, no chance for her to move. She was gone as soon I rolled my fingers back against her clit, each touch stoking the fire she’d already lit. Filled but still not fucked, I reached to knead her breasts, one hand still rubbing at her clit, her nipples tender as I tugged them, every touch combining to overload her mind as my cock throbbed inside her pussy, and I finally bucked my hips. I fucked her with a cruel rhythm, no time for her to breathe, thrust heaped on top of thrust. The cold slick tiles glistening beneath her fingers, her nail-polish, almost as dark, spotted with water as she did her best to support herself. Her glued and matted hair stuck to her face before I tangled it tight at the nape of her neck, tugging harder as I varied each thrust, keeping her off balance, fucking her the way she needed. It was reckless now, no chance or will to think. I stuffed her full of me, slammed home each thrust. Our groans amplified by the room, loud and obscene as I pulled her back and angled my hips to force her to the edge of her orgasm once more. Her fire now consumed her, raging at her core, burning with every touch, every stroke as I pulled out of her until nothing but my tip was inside only to slam my cock back harder and deeper each time, using her for my pleasure as she pushed herself back onto me and did the same.

I knew she was done. She couldn’t hold on another breath – not that she had one to spare. I drove my hips, the thrill of overwhelming her too powerful to ignore as I yanked on her hair and gave her no choice but to crash into her climax as hard as she ever had before. It engulfed her, left no sense or nerve untouched. She couldn’t keep still, couldn’t keep her balance as I fucked her through it. Every part of me resolved to prolong our pleasure, to seize as much satisfaction as I could from her spent and tender body. Her orgasms burning into one as I pounded home my shaft and knew it was too much.  She was tight around me, desperately so as her climax ruined her mind and my cock. I fought to keep going, but it was no use. She did me, and she did me good. Hammering my dick, driving myself deep, pushing myself to the verge of exploding for her, I ordered her to her knees. They were the first words we’d shared, but she did as she was told. Her lips locked tight around me, her hand stroking my shaft, her sopping wet hair falling in her face before I snapped it tight, thrust my hips and spurted my seed down her throat.  Broken down and breathless, but feeling well and truly fucked, I pulled her to her feet and kissed her softy, our lips barely parting as we pressed our bodies together, my hand reaching for the shower gel to bathe and massage her, every caress telling her just how good that had felt. She sank into my chest and allowed my hands and the cascading water to wash away everything but the aftershocks of her orgasm that still made her squirm when she kissed my neck and my fingers grazed against her clit.