I Imagine...

I had the most phenomenal fantasy this morning, a flight from reality really. I turned on the shower, 101 degrees, three separate shower heads spray out along the marble walls inside the shower room. I imagine him at home, sitting at his desk in front a massive circular window, he's wearing faded well worn levi's, no shirt, he's reading a story at Lit. Not just any story, but one of mine, and really hot one at that. Wait, one of my story's hot?? Aren't they just full of fluff? Character dancing in and out of appealing words. Shouldn't my writing really just be a filler to someone else's steamy stories? Well...it IS my fantasy after all, so we'll just say he was reading one of my hot stories and leave it at that.

I imagine him sitting there, reading about me in the shower, how I lay up against the cool marble walls, letting the water cascade over my body, soaking me, warming the chill. I see him leaning forward in his chair, his eyes piercing through the words before him on the screen, I reach for a bar of rosemary soap, working a rich lather between the palms of my hands, slowly massaging my hands down my neck, encircling each breast, taking my time, cupping my hands around the fullness, fingers rolling over perky nipples, arching my back into the tingling sensation.

I imagine him closing his eyes now, calling to the images in his mind of me, seeing my face clear as day before him , his eyes touching upon me, over full lips, my neck, shoulders, the shapes and curves. A smile plays on my mouth as I imagine him continuing to read.

I sit back on the bench inside the shower, artfully carved into the marble, steam rises out of the shower, filling the room with thick moist air. He can see one foot is propped up on the bench, the other dangling, one foot tracing patterns on the wet tiles. He can see me, resting back against the cold marble wall, closing my eyes, a whimsical expression on my face, how my finger nails rake up the tight muscles along my thighs, tips of fingers seeking the soft inner flesh, parting my legs just a bit more, as if he could actually see me.

I can see his hand brushing over his own mouth as he reads, pulling at his lips, exhaling a breath held a little too long. I imagine him pitching foreword now as I do...as one finger slides into the slick depths of my wetness. His hands drift onto his lap, braced on the top of either thigh, one hands pressing into the growing stiffness that stems from him.

I moan out loud thinking of him, thinking of him...thinking of me, him growing more aroused by the minute, by each word I write on the page, by each touch I place upon myself. Fingers roll over my swollen clitoris, teasing myself, teasing him. Feeling my fire beginning to build inside of me.

I imagine his hand rubbing over the bulge in his jeans, a thumb tracing over the tip of the head and down his long shaft. I can almost see him shifting in his chair as he tries to concentrate on not only the words laying across the screen but to the scene playing out in his head. I can feel my juices flowing now, sliding one slender finger inside and then another...imagining it is him inside me. Closing my eyes, softly liquefy.

I can see his hand, traveling up and down the length of bulge in his jeans, he's getting uncomfortable, I see him push himself away from the desk standing, slipping out of his pants, sliding his boxers down leaving them in a pool around his feet and sitting down again, his cock poised, rigged between his legs. I can see him gripping himself firmly at the base, his hand slowly moving up and down, back up again, his thumb swirling over the tip of his head. Hot flashes shot through me, imagining him.

I imagine he can see me, my eyes closed, mouth open, lips slightly parted, the way my breasts raise as I breathe the steam from the shower. He can see me, two fingers moving inside myself, long slow strokes from my hand, short eager thrusts, my thumb tracing small circle over my swollen clit. Fingers pulling at my taunt nipples, he can feel my ache, as he aches for release of his own.

I can see him leaning back in his chair now, one hand moving in a determined motion the other cupping himself, his eyes stuttering and bouncing over my words. I imagine he can hear me, the sound of my moans filling the room, echoing around me, my breath becoming raspy, the husky "...oh..." calling reaching out to him.

I'm so wet, my legs start to tremble I can feel it coming even before the crash, I am so close, my teeth cut into my lip as I imagine him approaching the edge with me, his hand pumping away, faintly hearing his deep groans, his eyes are closed now to, he doesn't need my story or to even see the words anymore, he can see me in his mind, how my own hands touch my body like no other, my foot braced up against the wall, the warm spay of the shower covering my chest, finger teasing along the outline of my lips before plunging back inside again.

His name hovers on my breath, formed in pout on my lips, I can see his body tensing in his motion, his strokes growing faster, I watch his hand as it glides up and down up and down over himself. My hips rocking into my own, my body in a frenzy, so slick under my touch, my back arching back as far it would take me, long dark hair whipping around me as my head rolls from side to side. I can feel the explosion from somewhere deep rooted inside, a heat spreading through me, rising higher, my body bucking uncontrollably, reeling forward, my orgasm punching through me like a fist as I imagined him blowing his release, his body rocked in pleasure, shuddering.