Not-quite-shower sex

I drift awake, fighting to stay in the dream. I dreamed I was fucking Heather—many of my dreams have ended up that way over the years . . .

Where am I? I don’t recognize this bed . . .

I look around wildly, totally disoriented, before my mind clears and I know where I am. I’m alone in the bed, and I can hear the shower running. One of the things I’ve envied over the years has been the fact that Heather has her own bathroom; when the Innis-Joneses built this house, they built it with two master suites. I don’t know why, but Heather has certainly never complained.

I slip quietly out of bed and pad over to the bathroom door; Heather is facing away from me, bent over with a hand on the side of the tub adjusting the water. I can smell her fragrance from here, so I know she’s nice and wet. A naughty idea occurs to me, and I go with it: I walk quietly up behind her, hook one hand around her thigh, use the other to guide my cock just to be safe, and sheath it to the hilt in her tight, wet heat. As her head snaps up at my invasion, my questing fingers find and flick her love button and my other hand grabs one of her luscious tits. Her eyes close, and she moans, “Fuuuuuuuuck . . .” I get a firm grip on her boob, pinching its sweet pink tip between two knuckles, start rubbing her clit, and pull most of the way out for a second thrust; she puts her other hand on the tub to brace herself.

I fuck Heather hard and fast from the jump. “You like that cock, baby?” I ask her. “You like feeling that big fucking cock pounding your sweet little pussy? You like knowing you turn your boyfriend on so much, you can’t even bend over without him wanting to fuck your brains out? Fuck, I love your hot, sweet pussy. I love your big, bouncy tits. I love making you go crazy. I’m going to fuck you in every room in this house, lover, and I’m going to make you the best-fucked woman you’ve ever met.”

“Ohhhhhh, love,” Heather moans. “Fuuuuuuck, that’s so good . . . I can’t even—mmmmm, pinch my nipple, harder, squeeze my tit, yeah, yeah, just like that—get a shower without—fuuuuuck, I love your big pussyhammer—take me harder, baby, fuck me harder, fuck that little pussy harder, ohh fuuuuck that cock feels so fucking good—love your fingers on my button, keep rubbing my little button—getting fucked—you’re driving me so fucking wild—that’s so fucking hot . . . You fuck me so full, so deep, stretch out my pussy so good, fucking me places no one else has ever hit . . . Fuck that naughty pussy harder, baby—naughty pussy wants your cock so fucking bad—fuck it hard with that big fucking mommy-maker—claim it—make it yours forever—ruin it forever for any cock but yours . . .”

I moan and fuck her harder. The slap of our bodies is clear even above the noise of the shower, and the concussion each time I slam my cock home jars us both. “Don’t stop—don’t stop—don’t stop,” Heather chants. “So good—so close—so close—so fucking close . . . Cum in me—blow your load—fill me up—give me everything—let me feel you . . . Cum in me—make me cum—fuck me hard—make me cum so fucking hard—cum all over your big cock . . . Fuck me—fuck—fuck—fuck—fuck—fuck—”

I can only keep going so long before my balls boil over. I throw back my head and roar as my orgasm blasts into me like a hurricane. My cum painting her inner walls triggers Heather’s climax; her body detonates around my cock and she screams, “Yes! Fuck! Andrew!” at the top of her lungs. I hold myself deep inside her as thunder claims our nerves and fills our minds.

I don’t know how long it is before Heather pushes herself upright, my shrinking cock still inside her. She reaches back to hold my head with both hands and turns to give me a slow, lingering kiss. “Do you think I can get a shower now, baby?” she asks softly, eyes dancing.

“As long as you let me join you to wash your back,” I answer with a grin.

“I think that can be arranged.”