Shower Torture

I’m sure you know how it is.  You get up, you mindlessly wander to the shower and try to jump start your engine to get the day going.  The warm water, the ritual of getting presentable … it all comes together to help.

So, there I am.  I’m in the shower, washing my hair.  Trying to turn on my intellectual lights.  As I’m scrubbing away, I suddenly hear the shower curtain pull back, you grab me by the waist and place me in the corner of the shower, out of the stream of water, suds in my hair, eyes closed.

Without a noise, you start rinsing your own hair.  You’ve just commandeered my shower without a saying a word.  You’re facing away from me, but when I scoot toward you, I feel your hand on my chest, pushing me back to my place.  You go on about your own shower, getting your hair shampooed.  As you turn to rinse, you step forward, wipe the soap off my face and step back, grinning.

You point the shower head away, more toward the wall…

I start to say something but you look at me, grin and shake your head slowly.  I get the message and shut up.

You step back into the water, rinsing. I’m taking in the sight of you – water running down over you, dripping off all the right places.

You’re performing now.  You rinse out your hair very thoroughly, swaying back and forth to let the water run over you.  Then you get out the soap, and start rubbing all over your body, starting with your neck, sudsing up over your shoulders, your breasts, paying special attention to cover every single inch of your body.

You’re closing your eyes, rubbing yourself everywhere as I would so love to do.  I know better.  I’m to stay in the corner and observe.  You lean back against the wall to find a support position and slowly, carefully, delicately at first start rubbing yourself.  With one hand on your breast, tweaking away, and one hand lower, rubbing, circling, playing with your clit, you start to lose yourself in the show.

I’m dying to reach forward, to help, to participate.  My own cock is straining, raging against the cage and pulling at the base ring, pushing at the steel encasing me.  I don’t dare move because I don’t want to make a sound.  I don’t want to interrupt.  I don’t want you to stop.

You’re very close now – you up the energy level again, pushing yourself, feeling it start to wash over you.  You’re braced against the wall, and I can see you shaking as you approach your orgasm.  I can almost see it flow through you – you even get a little flushed from it as it takes over for a too short slice of time, nearly buckling your knees, but you manage to stay upright.

You’re enjoying the immediate aftermath of the orgasm – the act of coming is still flowing through you a bit and you’re focusing entirely on those feelings – not even opening your eyes, but knowing that I’m there, taking it all in.

As you slowly start to move again, you re-lather yourself, still showing off, still going for whatever feels great and making a show of it.  Just when you look like it’s time to rinse off, you open your eyes, step over to me and grab my hands behind my back as you rub against me, moving up, down, all over me.

You’ve become my maddening soap in this shower.

My head is screaming to reach out.  I want to somehow get out of the cage, convince you to let me do so much more.

You turn, taking one hand out from behind me and placing the soap in it.  I get the whole “one-eyebrow up” thing of “only what I’m asking you to do here, right?” – that look that says that I need to be good.

I lather up and wash your back, rubbing, building all the suds I can.  Washing you up and down, using it as an excuse to massage your gorgeous ass.  Moving down to your legs, then up… up… up your legs.  Just as I get to the top, you grin, but shake your head slowly.  I retreat, moving down your legs and making sure you are clean from head to toe.

You’re bent over, hands on your knees now – and you slowly wiggle your ass, moving back into me, pressing the cage between your cheeks and moving slowly back and forth.  You’re dancing with the cage, rubbing against me as you slowly stand the rest of the way up, reach up and put first one hand behind my head, then grab my hands, place them on your breasts and move your other hand behind my head.

You’re dancing against me now as I wash, re-wash, and re-re-re-wash your breasts, tweaking your nipples as I go, soaping up every, single square inch that I can reach.

After several minutes of this, you reach up and move the shower head back – step us both into the stream and rinse off.  Again, you’re making a show of getting the soap off your body, of seducing me with your eyes while you do, knowing what I’d really like to be doing.

You reach up, kiss me and pull back the shower curtain, just as you step out, you reach over and turn the water to cold.

“I hope that helps,” you say as you pull the curtain closed.