How to Thwart a Cold

I was sitting at the table, nearly finished reading a chapter of the history textbook, when I heard a key in the lock. I looked up and watched as my girlfriend entered our off-campus apartment, looking very much like an oversize wet poodle carrying a backpack.

I told her as much.

"Yeah, fuck you, too!" she said sarcastically in response. Then she produced a most violent, unladylike sneeze.

"Okay," I said, closing the textbook, "get out of those wet clothes and into the shower so you don't catch a cold."

"Yes, Mom," she responded with equal sarcasm, followed by another loud sneeze.

"I believe I have the wrong parts for that," I said, "although I'm not the biology major, so I wouldn't necessarily know."

"Yes, Daddy."

"That's better!"

The door closed and locked, she finished peeling off her wet shoes and socks. "Of all days to forget my umbrella!" I heard her mutter to herself as she headed for the single bedroom. With a sigh, I simply shook my head; after all, she did not really seem to have much sense when it came to weather and ensuring she would be properly dressed and prepared for forecasted conditions.

I made my way to the kitchen. I had planned to make myself some coffee before reading the final chapter of the assignment for the next day's class, but realized that my girlfriend could also benefit from a hot drink as well. I ground the beans, poured the grounds into a French press, added water from the hot water tap, and waited.

Hearing the sound of the shower running, I felt a little more at ease. Hopefully her standing underneath the hot spray would prevent a cold. Neither of us enjoyed being sick, and neither of us enjoyed the other being sick, either, as that effectively meant no cuddling... coupled with me being relegated to the sofa at night.

The four minutes having passed, I pressed the coffee grounds to the bottom, and poured two cups of hazelnut-almond coffee, my girlfriend's favorite flavor. I added a half-shot of mint to mine, then took the two cups to the table.

Above the sound of the running water, I heard her sneeze again, although not quite as violently as before.

An idea came to mind: an experiment of sorts. I went to the bedroom, peeled off my clothes, then made my way to the bathroom. I stepped to the end of the bathtub away from the shower head and carefully peeled back the shower curtain, peering inside the small enclosure.

She was a living sculpture of beauty from the moment I first saw her in our first-semester Italian class. At that moment, leaning against the brown-tiled shower wall with her eyes closed and the shower head directing the warm water directly at her naked body, she looked even more stunning than usual.

My heart skipped a beat and a breath caught in my throat as I stepped into the bathtub and slid the shower curtain closed behind me. She apparently had not heard the shower curtain move, for her expression did not change. Her tall, pencil-thin form continued to lean against the tiled wall, her arms dangling limp at her sides, her curly oil-black mane caught between shoulder blades and tiles. The all-too-familiar lips were parted slightly, begging to be kissed. The water ran in perfect rivulets down her front, with noticeable cascades flowing over each nipple and breast.

I stepped into the spray and winced slightly at the initial touch of the hot water upon me. Since I blocked the bulk of the water from reaching her, my girlfriend opened her eyes, and gave me a loving smile as she realized I had come to join her.

But I did not plan on simply joining her in the shower.

I leaned forward, my hands on her shoulders, and kissed her. Slow and gentle and full of respect and love, the kiss lingered as her hands slid around my back, subtly drawing me to her until my chest was practically crushing her proud breasts. Our tongues sparred inside her mouth and my arousal was quite evident between us, but I had more in mind for her.

"Stay just like this," I instructed her, just loud enough to be heard over the sound of the falling hot water. She nodded her assent, and I kissed her lips once more before beginning a long, slow descent of her body, my hands and my lips making love to her flawless wet skin.

When I at last reached her sex, I paused, looking up the body of my goddess. Judging by the rise and fall of her breasts, her breathing had noticeably increased just from the anticipation of what I was about to do. Her eyes were again closed, her lips parted. She spread her legs a little wider to ensure I had enough access for my plan.

With no preamble, I thrust a pair of fingers into her body. Stiffening from the sudden act, she cried out softly, her eyes snapping wide open for a moment before fluttering closed. I kissed her bare mons as my free hand wrapped around a leg to gently scratch her wet thigh.

Kneeling on the floor of the bathtub, I simply watched. My fingers worked happily as my eyes drank in her writhing actions and my ears savored her pleasing sounds. In time, her hands reached for my head and attempted to draw my lips to her clitoris, but I resisted, purposely waiting for the right moment.

I knew exactly where her G-spot was, and I was specifically avoiding it. I knew she was growing a bit frustrated, as evidenced by her tugs of my hair, but I was explicitly resisting her. My free hand left her thigh and began a slow trek upward until it had made contact with a wet quivering breast.

My girlfriend glared down at me, her fiery eyes angry that I was postponing her pleasure. That was the moment I had been waiting for all this time, a moment heightened by her unfeminine groan of sexual frustration.

Simultaneously, I rubbed fiercely against her G-spot, pulled gratingly on a nipple, and sucked harshly on her clitoris. In mid-groan, her sound of frustration suddenly whiplashed to a squeal of delight, a sound which spiraled in pitch and intensity for several seconds before the orgasm battered her senses, causing her loving passage to convulse around my fingers, her hands to tighten their grip in my hair, and her body to buck rapidly against me as she suddenly went silent, her lungs unable to process enough air.

As my girlfriend slowly slid down the tile wall, I kissed my way up her body until she was kneeling before me, spent and satisfied. I clutched her to me, enjoying her gasps in my ear as she recovered from her climax. She held me weakly, and I could still feel slight tremors assaulting her body. We remained like that for quite some time, both of us being battered by the hot water from above, yet neither of us cared.

By the time we emerged from the bathroom, the coffee was only lukewarm at best. Neither of us really felt any desire to study. But most importantly, my girlfriend was no longer sneezing. It seemed that her impending cold had actually been thwarted.