Soapland Soap

Jack went back to his apartment next to “The Magic of Sex". He was cursing himself out for being too awkward and shy. He had passed up on losing his virginity! She did have nice tits. But she was goth, too pale for his whitebread tastes.

Well, what had he grabbed as his free gift on his born-loser escape from the sex shop? It had been the first thing small enough to take with one hand. And it was a box of “Soapland Soap”. Soap!?! He had wasted his opportunity on soap?!

At nearly a half an hour more swearing at himself, he found himself going back and reading the box. It promised him “a trip to Soapland!” with each shower or bath. What was Soapland? He could look it up on the internet. If he still had a working computer. Even his cell phone had died yesterday. Typical for his Born-Loser status.

Maybe a hot shower would help him relax. So, alone in his apartment as always, he headed for the bathroom, letting each piece of clothing fall along the way.

Jack turned on the shower and let it fall into the bathtub and down the drain. He was holding his hand under the spray to test how hot it was getting. In his other hand he was holding the tan bar from the box. Unwet, yet, it was heating up more quickly than the water. But that, too, heated up until it seemed to match the sensual warmth from the soap. The odd memories of different women he had, usually accidentally, touched flowed through his mind. Those experiences he had liked the most gave off a warmth like he was experiencing now.

Stepping over the rim of the tub and onto the shower mat, he soaked his nude body in a heat so warm and inviting. That alone stirred his prick. The longer he stayed in its welcome embrace, though, the more he realized it was only inviting. Nothing went beyond. He sighed. He had to think of the water bill.

He brought the soap up to his body. And it became alive. It felt like someone else’s skin was leaning against his. It was as hot and steamy as the shower water, but it was more; it was the invitation received and approved. There was the feel of what could seem like a woman’s breasts against his chest, pliant and silky. With every movement of the soap over his chest, her firm, young breasts were rubbing themselves across with it. He was barely aware of the soap; he only cared about her naked titmassage. And when he lathered over his nipple, her nipple played with it; his areola was mated with hers. His prick grew harder rapidly, as sparks of electricity shot down to it. At last, he thought he would have to stay away from his nipples, hers against his alone threatened to make him cum.

His mind on his developing cock, he ran the soap down towards it. Everywhere it touched, he felt the caress of the woman’s own sternum, belly, navel and pubes in a one-for-one match. He realized that just as he was about to put the soap to his semi-erection. He had heard about - Oh! What were they called? Shemales? Dick girls? Pre-ops? Something Japanese. Was that what he was about to feel pressing against his privates?! Could he deal with it, or would he chicken out like he had in the magic sex shop?!?