Waking up and getting wet

My eyes drift open; it’s dark outside. Abby and I haven’t moved since we fell asleep. It feels really good to wake up with a woman in my arms. That first morning with Scarlett, I was completely disoriented, but over the course of the week, my brain got used to having her there. It’s made it harder to sleep alone again, but it means I can wake up holding Abby without any confusion. I raise my head to check the clock—even after six years, I still have both nightstands and both clocks—and realize I’ve slept a hair over two hours. She came by fairly early in the evening, so it’s still earlier than I would usually go to bed for the night. The nap means I won’t get much sleep tonight . . . but then, having Abby here would probably mean much the same thing in any case, so it all works out.

The arm Abby has been using for a pillow is numb, and I feel all sticky, so I decide to get up and get a shower. I extricate myself carefully so as not to jerk her awake and slowly roll myself over and upright. I get myself a clean towel—it was only this morning that I finally got around to tossing the previous one, the one I used while Scarlett was here, in the laundry—and one for Abby as well, and go quietly into the washroom. I close the door before turning on the light.

While the house isn’t huge, and the master bedroom isn’t huge, the master suite as a whole is quite large, and the master bath might qualify as huge. There’s a separate room for the toilet with its own fan and a door that locks, there’s a two-person Jacuzzi—I’m guessing because the builders wanted to be able to have hot-tub sex when they weren’t in the mood for exhibitionism, too—and there’s a shower stall larger than some apartments. —OK, I exaggerate, but not by much. It looks a lot like this:

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The color scheme is different (my bathroom is all blues and greens), but there are four main differences. One, the drain runs along the base of the long wall of the shower, with a very slight slope of the floor toward that wall. Two, the benches are much more solid than those look; when Scarlett was here, I confirmed what I had always suspected, that they’re easily strong enough to support two full-grown adults. Three, there are inset nooks on all three walls which serve to hold body wash and the like but which are also designed to be strong, effective handholds, and which are excellently placed for shower sex. The tiling on the walls and floor is well-designed for traction. Four, I think my shower is wider, or deeper, or however you want to put it—the point is, there’s room to fuck a woman standing doggy when she’s grabbing the handhold between the two shower controls. Scarlett and I proved that last week.

For the entire time I’ve lived in this house up to Lily’s graduation party, my washroom has made me a little melancholy, because Rowan absolutely loved having sex in showers and hot tubs. She was so juicy, she could stay lubricated even in a Jacuzzi, and she took full advantage of the fact. (It was especially nice when we were traveling—even when we were sharing a hotel room with Lily, we could get privacy for sex.) She would have flipped over this room, and she never even knew it existed.

After Scarlett, it no longer makes me melancholy. It just gets me excited.

I step into the shower and turn one of them on—just the rain head, for starters. I’m just finishing rinsing off all the dried sweat and dried cum when Abby wanders in, blinking her eyes at the light. As they adjust, I see them go wide and her jaw drop. I step forward and open the glass door; she comes to me, and I take her hand and draw her in under the spray. As the door closes, I wrap my arms around her, pulling her head to mine for a kiss, squeezing her tight little ass, and rubbing my throbbing boner against her lovely mound.

“Welcome to my playground,” I murmur.

We make out for a while as the water pours down our bodies, then I turn Abby around and push her against the wall. I lift her foot onto the bench, spreading her sweet little cleft wide for me, drop to my knees, and dive in. I give her two fingers, corkscrewing her reddening hole, enjoying the sound of her moaning my name. I savor her clit, sucking gently on her slick pink flesh and teasing its stiffening apex with my tongue. The water runs down my back, but it isn’t long before my face and hand are just as wet as Abby’s girl-honey begins to flow. I reach up with my free hand to heft one of her beautiful golden globes, capturing its pert pink tip and tweaking it gently. “Fuck, Ben, this is good, what a wonderful way to wake up,” she breathes. “I’ve never done this before . . .”

“You’ve never had sex in a shower before?” I ask, then start slowly suckling her clit.

“Ooooooh, that feels wonderful—what your mouth does to me . . . no words . . .” Abby moans. “No, Ben, never in a shower—finger me harder, baby, give me more—more—more—” I pump her well harder and turn my wrist faster; I suckle her faster, too, flicking her button with my tongue. “So good, so good, so good . . . squeeze my tits, baby, play with my nipples . . . so hot . . . so wet . . . you make me so fucking wet . . .” she groans.

I pull my hand forward to maximize friction against Abby’s G-spot and switch from suckling her pearl to just sucking on it hard, like I’m trying to suck it right out of her oyster. Her voice starts getting higher and louder. “Suck me, Ben,” she moans. “Suck me—finger me—eat my pussy—eat that hot little snatch—make me cum, baby, make me cum . . . I’m close . . . don’t stop, don’t stop, I’m close don’t stop make me cum please make me cum please, Ben, please make me—make me—” I start in on Jack Bruce’s bass riff for “Sunshine of Your Love,” and she does—announcing it to the world with an orgasmic scream. Her sweet young cunt goes wild around my fingers, and her body quivers and shakes with the fire lancing her nerves.

I need to get off my forty-year-old knees, but I can’t resist a taste. I lock my lips around Abby’s fuckhole, pierce it with a rolled-up tongue, and suck hard, guzzling her girl-cum right from the source. She responds with broken, fragmentary sounds. I reach up and flick her clit with my thumb, giving her nipple a pinch at the same time, and she screams again, flooding my mouth with her nectar. I keep drinking until the fountain stops flowing, then stand up.