Wash your body, sensually

I got under the large main shower head allowing the warm water to flow down my sensitive tits. When I turned around, I felt the welcoming warm water run down my back and over my cute smooth ass. The water crashed over my body, hot as the steam rose around me, wrapping me in a cocoon of warmth. My hands moved instinctively, reaching for the bottle of soap that rested on the shower niche. As I pumped the soap out, It was thick, creamy, and lathered instantly as I dragged it across my skin. The scent of lavender and vanilla filled the air, intoxicating and subtle, like a whisper against my senses. I closed my eyes, letting the water cascade down my back, the pressure soothing the aching tension from my mom’s workout.

I started with my arms, working the soap into a rich lather, the bubbles clinging to my skin like a second layer. The sensation was almost erotic, the way the foam slid over my body, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. My fingers traced the curve of my midsection, stopping at the softest part of my torso, and I couldn’t help but linger there, enjoying the way the soap felt against my skin. Each stroke was deliberate, slow, as if I were savoring every moment.

I worked the soap into a thick lather, my hands moving in slow, circular motions over my breasts. The small bubbles clung to my skin, slowly sliding down my curves as the water washed over me. My fingertips traced the outer edges, then moved inward, brushing against my nipples again. I let out a soft sigh, my head tilting back slightly as the warmth of the water washed over me.

I cupped one breast in my hand, gently squeezing, feeling the weight of it, the softness. My other hand moved to my other breast, my fingers teasing at the nipple, rolling it between my thumb and forefinger. The sensation was exquisite, a mix of pleasure and tension that made my breath quicken. I could feel the heat pooling low in my belly, a familiar ache that I hadn’t realized I’d been ignoring.

I let my hands drift downward, the soap leaving a trail of warmth as I moved. My fingertips brushed over my ribs, down my sides, and then to my hips. I hesitated for a moment, my breath catching in my throat, before my hands slid lower, to the soft curves of my thighs. The soap was slick, my hands gliding effortlessly over my skin. I could feel the tension building inside me, that ache growing stronger with every touch.

I shifted my stance slightly, letting the water cascade over my shoulders, and then I let my hands slide between my thighs. The soap made everything slippery, my fingers moving easily over my skin. I traced the inner curve of one thigh, then the other, my touch light but deliberate. My breath was coming faster now, my heart pounding in my chest as I let my hands explore further.

My fingertips brushed against the sensitive skin just above where my thighs met, and I let out a soft moan, my knees going weak as my fingers found my parting lips. My body yearned of more, I almost conceded but I had a realization.

If I allowed myself this pleasure, then I may get some sort of post orgasm clarity and abandon ship. If I really wanted to relish the feelings, draw it out slowly, and help my mom in the process, then I can’t jump at every moment of self-pleasure.