The lather flowed from my chest down the contours of my feminine form and gathered at my pussy. It did not take long for my right hand to find the slickness between my legs and start to "wash" the area with slow moving, deep cutting movements, while my left hand continued to "clean" my breasts. I could see that Jon's eyes were never moving from the show now, although he was still able to comb his hair.
I grabbed my razor and started to shave the very small stubble of hair that was starting to form on my otherwise perfect mound. Jon stopped combing his hair. I worked the razor over each side of my slit, removing the covering soapsuds and giving it a glassy smoothness. Placing my right foot on the small ledge in the shower, I pulled on my lips to get the hair growing in the folds. By the time I was done shaving Jon was no longer even moving or attempting to hide his stare.
I turned my back to Jon and bent over to wash my feet. I wanted Jon to see my pussy the way I saw Marti's from behind. Slightly parting my legs and pushing my butt upwards, I could feel my now swollen vulva sliding into Jon's view. It must have been quite the sight, as I could almost swear that I heard Jon take in a short breath. Before I stood up, I ran my hand up the inside of my thighs to my pussy and drew a finger down the length of my exposed labial punctuation allowing the end of my index finger to disappear in its folds. I felt incredibly sexy. Although it would have been nice for Jon to join me in the shower, I was enjoying his watching me even more.
'How is a man supposed to go to work with his wife showering like a sex goddess?" Jon muttered as he forced himself to head out of the bathroom.
I found the shea butter again and lathered up once more, only this time it was for me. Running my slippery hands from my breasts down to my pussy, I ran my finger fully inside the folds. I leaned back against the cool marble sides of the wall and slowly fondled my labial lips and clitoris until I reached a subdued but powerful climax. What I hoped would stop a couple days ago; I now was enjoying way too much to ever want it to end. I reached up and took the showerhead off of its hook and started to wash the soap off of my body slinking the hose around my body and flooding my skin with its sensual warmth. I changed the dial to the pulse setting to get a little shoulder massage. Soon the pulsing action had found my subconscious target, and I allowed the water to play with my clit. What a great feeling! I wished immediately that I had figured this trick our a long time ago.
The steady beat of the water flow created a rhythmic pattern that zoned me out to the land of sexual plunder. I was fantasizing in my mind of Jon coming home to find me in the nude on the couch masturbating to the sound of an afternoon rain shower. I saw myself totally unaware of his presence as the rain covered all sounds of his entry, and I was naked, my eyes shut, my hands moving around and over the curves of my body. I was in pleasure heaven, with no inhibition on what I was doing. In my fantasy, I was dreaming of sucking Jon's cock again, and my mouth was in the open "O" position, running a finger in and out of it occasionally to simulate Jon's presence.
The water continues to beat on my fully uncovered clit, and the passion of a climax is starting to grow inside me. In my mind, I see Jon stripping until he is completely nude, but not making any sound. The sight of his wife secretly fondling, sucking, rubbing, and fingering herself is causing him to gain an erection that needs attention. Jon quietly approaches the edge of the couch and without alerting me, he runs his cock head into my mouth in a single slow thrust, while at the same time reaching to my cunt and pushing three fingers effortlessly into my pussy. In my fantasy I am not even startled y Jon's sudden appearance and the presence of his cock between my lips, it just seems right, and I double my own efforts on the way to a stunning climax. I shudder forcefully as the water from the showerhead brings me to a nice climax in the shower. Leaning forward against the glass, my right cheek is mashed and I am not even aware of its protests.
Although I did not want to get out of the shower, I knew I must start my day. With one final effort, I open the shower door and exit. I dry myself off with sensually slow movements, reveling in myself, and wonder if this new life is just a dream like I just had. All I know is that I do not want to pinch myself into awareness. I want this feeling of sexual pleasure to go on forever.