Caught In The Shower 2

The most delicious feelings of depravity course through him as he stands under the warm torrent of the shower squeezing his balls with one hand, gripping his dribbling cock firmly with the other.

With eyes closed, nylon, silk, leather and lace; her softness and her damp sweetness fill his mind.

Images sweep over him: her breasts and that gorgeous cleft between. Her arse cheeks. Her thigh encased in nylon. Her toes encased in nylon. Her painted toes encased...oh! The brush of her erect nipple against his upper lip...

Not yet! His body tenses, he resists the natural impulse.

His eyes flash open with a new idea. He has plenty of time! No, no he really shouldn't do it but God!

Within a moment he is dried and in their room, at her drawer, her lingerie drawer...naked. The nylon, silk and lace is laid out on the bed in front of him and he trembles as he makes his choices. Something she won't miss?

Deciding the risk is too great he returns each item to its place and feeling another churn of excitement deep within he turns to the laundry basket. His cock jumps at just the thought of wearing her soiled clothing... When he is finished he will do all the washing in the basket as a surprise for her. Yes that's what he'll do. She'll like that and she'll never suspect...

Moments later he is in the warmth of the shower again. His cock straining against his wife's black satin briefs, his legs encased in her tan nylon hose, he is even wearing her bra. He writhes as he soaps himself turning down the water flow to avoid losing the creamy suds too quickly. His left hand grips his balls again and he squeezes hard, avoiding contact with his cock whilst he reaches behind himself and slips his free hand into the pantyhose and briefs to finger his bud...eyes tightly shut, he gyrates rhythmically, panting, groaning intensely but quietly. He is well used to concealing these little forbidden trysts with himself.

Oh no, oh no, god no, ah please no, shit, I, oh, oh

As he gyrates he thrusts his hardness against the panties and pantyhose edging himself ever closer with the sweet frustration of knowing it will not be enough, one finger strokes the bud of his anus while his other hand moves to his nipples. Still gyrating and moaning he pinches each nipple in turn hard, so hard that he gasps with the pain of it...

"Oh what the hell...? Fuck...!"

She is standing in the doorway to the shower room staring, wide-eyed in amazement. He freezes. One hand still clutching his own arse, still fingering his own anus "...shit..." looking right at her. He feels his face drain and then immediately burn fiercely and he begins to shake a little, his eyes welling with tears as he tries to discern her mood, her reaction, oh fuck...fuck, fuck...fuck... what the fuck have I done?

She slowly lowers herself to sit on the toilet seat, her eyes never leaving his.

Is that anger he can see or is it surprise? Is she disgusted? Will he lose everything now? Or...

For the first time he sees what his wife is wearing. His favourite white buttoned cotton tunic, sleeveless, low cut over tight blue jeans, blue court shoes and a hint of blue nylon on her foot. Are they stockings? The tunic is very, very thin so he can see the navy blue bra straps and the lace edging of her bra cups through it. She has a gold chain with a single tear drop pearl around her neck. He sees the matching anklet which always aroused him so. Looking over his wife's body like this makes his aching balls tingle, his arse twitches and still hard cock jumps forcing bubbles of precum from the slit. He can feel the pressure of his precum forcing its way out against the panties he is wearing stretched tight across the eye of his cock...he gasps and almost imperceptibly squirms.

After what seems like an eternity, passed to the sound of the running water from the shower and his almost silent whimpers of self loathing, self disgust and intense, intense embarrassment, she rises.

She holds her head high and confidently steps into the shower cubicle. She is taller than he in her court shoes and looks down on him with what looks to him like a sneer. She presses herself against him and forcing his back to the wall she takes his face in her hands and presses her lips to his roughly. Her tongue forces entry, her teeth nibble and bite his lips, one hand grasps his hair holding tightly, the other takes his throat forcing his chin back with her thumb as her knee presses against his balls. She grabs and she pushes. She twists and she pinches. She slaps. She bites. All without a single word uttered. She is taking what is hers and they are both driven by his whimpering submission.

He is now lost in desire and sweet humiliation. They are both soaked and moaning as she hisses her command for him to undo her jeans. He complies with relish falling to his knees and fumbling with the buttons at her crotch, now at his eye level. She raises her right leg, steadying herself with her hands on his shoulders, as he draws the jeans over her hips and peels the material down her calf. She raises her foot and allows her shoe to drop. He peels the leg of her jeans over her ankle, over her foot and off. He is gasping at the sight of her navy blue stockings, her navy blue suspender belt, and her navy blue knickers. Each matches. Each is trimmed with lace. He is on his knees looking up as she strips the sodden tunic from her torso. He gasps at the sight of her breasts held within the blue nylon and lace, erect nipples straining against the wet material.

Looking him directly in the eyes, she lifts her left leg and kicks off her remaining shoe. He doesn't have to be told to pull her jeans over her ankle and foot. Draping her leg over his shoulder, she takes him by the hair with one hand and pulls aside her panties with the other before pushing his face towards her crotch. She tilts his head so that she can hold his wide staring eyes with her own once more. He blinks looking into the shower water still cascading over them. He feels the sole of her left foot slowly rubbing his back.

"This has to be good..." she hisses, "...this has to be really, really good!"

He nods and then goes to work like never before.

The palms of his hands support her pear-drop arse cheeks, his forearms pressed against the backs of her thighs, his fingers spread, probing her bud as his mouth takes in her pulsing clit. He can feel her shiver, out of control on the very brink for an instant before his tongue flicks back and forth across that magic button that tips her over the edge and sends her juices jetting against his face. He licks and he sucks and he flicks and he fingers to prolong her writhing moment.

She takes his hair in her hand and pulls his face from her pussy as she gets her breath back and recovers her composure. She drags her foot up his back and onto his shoulder, resting it there for a moment looking down at his expectant face. She is still breathing heavily and she sees his eyes following the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest. She thinks to herself that he looks like a puppy waiting for a treat, all wide-eyed with anticipation. She braces herself against the wall before pushing him away from her with her foot.

He falls back on his heels and sits awkwardly as she traces her big toe over his chest, stroking his nipple with her toenail. His heart is thumping. His cock is stiffening even more. His balls ache. His arse tingles. He is alive with need... and it is written all over his upturned face. She turns off the water.

He gasps as she reaches behind her back and removes her bra. She dangles it on her finger before allowing it to fall into his lap. She next removes her knickers, dangling them in front of his nose before tossing them at him. She unclips the suspender belt and strips her stockings off her legs. She drops these into his lap as well. Her eyes have never left his throughout, they have watched his eyes flicking over her body like some mad house fly. She leans forward. She takes his chin in her hand. She moves her bare foot to his groin and pushes against his erection. She brings her face to his, a centimetre away and she whispers "Don't even think about touching this without permission..." she bends her big toe several times to stroke his stiffness as she speaks. He can feel her toenail, her crimson toenail scratching the head of his cock "...do you understand me?" her look is demanding a response and he gasps for breath as he hoarsely replies "OK".

She smiles and slaps his face playfully before stepping over him out of the shower. She wraps herself in his towel and leaves without another word or a backward glance.

He is stunned and just sits for a moment just staring into space. He slowly becomes aware that he is still dressed in her underwear. Her bra strap is digging into his flesh. He hauls himself awkwardly onto his feet and shakily removes the nylon, satin and lace. Looking at the pile of lingerie he feels so, so ashamed and yet still so, so aroused. He hesitates almost in tears, tears of shame, tears of frustration, tears of internal conflict pulling him in two. Oh god he wants it, he needs it, but oh fuck...fuck, fuck, shit and fuck! He repeats the profanities over and over again in his mind and he actually starts to cry.