The painfully fabricated voice of the radio DJ is silenced mid-sentence as my hand blindly clicks the alarm clock into the off position, face still buried in my pillow, trying to savor the fading images of hot, steamy candle-lit passion that had filled my dreams. Dragging myself out of bed, I land, not knowing exactly how, feet-first on the bedside carpet. I lumber, still not entirely aware of my surroundings, head still clouded with the after-images of the night's REM sleep, into the bathroom next to my bedroom. I turn on the water and examine my figure in the mirror as I wait patiently for the water to warm. I allow my hand to gently grope my left breast as I watch in the reflection. My nipples grow hard at the slight attention and protrude visibly from beneath my nightie. I disrobe, appreciating my nudity and the unobstructed view of my naked and arroused breasts in the mirror. Before my body has been dampened by a single droplet of shower water, a wetness begins forming between my legs. I intend not to sound like a narcicist; my sexual desires lie not in myself but in the mental reenactment of sexual encounters from the past, from dreams, and in the hopeful envisioning of possible sexual encounters in the future. I do not consider masturbation to be a "sexual encounter," simply a pleasurable activity centered in these erotic fantasies. The shower water has surely become comfortably heated by now.
I step in to test the gentle cascade. It is tolerable, and, after a slight temperature adjustment, it becomes comfortable, even pleasurable. I douse my frilly sponge in a generous amount of bodywash and wash myself all over, achieving cleanliness but also enjoying the water, the soap, the gentle friction. Shower never have a cooling effect when I'm 'hot and bothered,' such as I am on this glorious morning, they only serve to intensify my desire, my arrousal, my naturally lubricating secretions.
Mind afloat, my soap sudded fingertips tickle their way along my crack; a glossy fingernail slides accross my anus, giving me a shiver and causing me to become desperately moist independent of the warm, relaxing downpour streaming down my flesh. I press a fingertip forcefully into the center of my asshole, gently massaging it in a circular motion. I push the finger just inside, to the first knuckle, and wiggle it sporadically; I inhale sharply, my self-induced gasp urging me onward. The finger slides deeper, my sphincter widening to allow it within. My other hand is grasping for my clit, pinching and squeezing the inflamed nub. One finger is now vibrating viciously as it slides in and out of my tender asshole, lubricating it with soap and shower water. My oter hand switches off between playing with my clit and delving into my wet cunt. A second finger joins its comrade in pumping in and out of my ass; I quicken the pace and fuck my ass and pussy simultaneously with well-learned fingers as my thumb continues to tease my clit. Moaning loudly, I bring myself to a powerful orgasm. Breathing heavily, I recover from my attentions, but my sexual appetite remains unsatiated; I crave the cock as much as ever, probably even more than before.
Somewhat of a paranoid eccentric, I get the feeling, as I often do, that someone is watching me. To reassure myself, I pull the shower curtain aside and poke my head out. |