The Walk Of Shame Ch 01

I stared at the ceiling, the lawnmower of a man snoring beside me, grossed out as wondered how to get his cum out of my hair. Gorgeous though. Even asleep, I could see his beauty-dreamy eyes, that fuck-boy smile. Was that really it? Or was it simply the fact that I hadn't gotten laid in forever?

I've been here before. Disappointed, staring at the ceiling, wondering why I keep making the same dumb decisions. I continue to fall for the same tired charm. His confidence, that damn smile, the way he made me feel like the only woman in the room. How long could I keep pretending I'm not an ass?

Now it's clear that I should cry. Am I? What? Fuck! No, not tears. Simply Tyler's jizz dripping off my eyebrow. Enough. I needed to get away from him. The stink of regret clung to the air, mingling with alcohol and sex. I couldn't tell if I was disgusted with him, myself, or both. And wait-what was that? Cigarettes? Did I really smoke last night? Eagerly, I swung my legs over the bed, making sure not to touch him. Maybe a shower would wash it all away.

As I shuffled to the bathroom, in the dreaded Walk of Shame trying to keep the white goo from dripping off my belly onto the floor, I couldn't help but marvel at how hard, and sadly, fast, Tyler came last night. Or was his name Chad? Does it matter? Christ, his grey boxer briefs looked hot laying on the floor intertwined with my red thong.

Feeling my eyelids start to stick together from his super glue, I instinctively reached for the nearest thing, his Calvin Kleins. Clutching them like a lifeline, dear God, what was wrong with me? That musky scent hit my nose as I dabbed my eyes, letting the fabric glide across my cheek as the scent of him wrapped around me. A twinge shot through me, unexpected and unwanted, as his man scent infiltrated my nose. Are you fucking kidding me? What am I, a bitch in heat? Yeah, I suppose I am.

Standing there like an idiot feeling the soft fabric touch my cheek. It was the same goddamn feeling from last night in maybe the smoothest move ever pushing a strand of hair out of my face after I wiping my mouth with my sleeve after yet another shot of Don Julio. Little did I know at the time that I would be paying the bill before calling the Uber and dragging Don Juan back to my place to put out my fire.

Switching on the light in the bathroom, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror before turning on the shower. I couldn't help but admire what I saw. My 27-year-old body was just in enough shape to look sexy in yoga pants, with a well-placed thong strap peeking out from the back of a tight-fitting little black dress and 4-inch heels. At 5'4", my petite frame was just tall enough to attract a guy like Tyler-Chad. Not that it really mattered. My shoulder-length chestnut hair, now matted to my head like last year's Easter basket, was normally curled just the right way to capture any guy's attention before they got lost in my deep blue eyes. I could almost feel their hands itching to run up my shirt, eager to touch my perky breasts, with nipples even perkier. Big boobs had never made me jealous. more than a mouthful, as they say, is wasted.

Sliding the shower door closed behind me, I turned my face into the hot flowing water, hoping to wash away my feeling my makeup oil up on my skin. I reached down to grab the Neutrogena; the water pelting my back. I pumped a few squirts into my hand and rubbed the war paint off my cheeks. As I ran my fingers through my hair, one finger got caught in a sticky tangle, and I knew I had to shampoo.

Still feeling dirty, I grabbed the loofah, but this time, there was no urgency to scrub it all away. I pumped Neutrogena from the other bottle into the sponge, scrubbing Chad-Troy's little swimmers that had stuck to my body down the drain. I grabbed a washcloth now picking up a bar of Neutrogena soap, I began to lather up, working the soap into a frothy, fragrant cloud. As the suds swirled around my skin, I couldn't help but wonder how quickly I could wash this night-and him-off me. I paused, feeling the warmth of the water, wondering if this was just another mistake. But then, the memory of his smile washed over me again, and something inside me shifted. Rather than being disgusted, I decided to lean in. Literally.

I dropped the washcloth and used my hand to spread the soap and lather over my body. First my tummy in small circles, my pinky outstretched to gently glance the top of my mons completely smooth from this morning's Brazilian wax. As my circles got wider my thumb gently pressed against the underside of my left breast. Was I really going to do this, I wondered? Did I really need to ask?

In larger circles I lathered my body, caressing my soft skin in the most delicious way. I pushed a little firmer, enjoying the pressure, letting the sensation build. As with a mind of its own, my thumb caught my nipple. The flick, shot right down to between my legs and I could feel the liquid flowing from out of me.

I massaged the soap into my chest, moving from one side to the other, catching my nipples, purposefully this time. I rubbed them between my thumb and forefinger, gently at first, which warmed me inside, then with a little more intensity. Faster, firmer, teetering on the edge of pain the moisture built between my legs.

I leaned my head back, letting the hot water spray over my throat and chest, then leaned against the wall. The shock of the cold wall on my back caused me to gasp, which turned me on even more. My hand gripped the bar of soap and lathered my belly, expanding the delightful sensation all the way down. I felt the tiny, yet swollen, speed bump under the bar of soap, and my body jerked uncontrollably. Having learned a long time ago to save the best for last, I eagerly slid the bar of soap and my hand further down.

I squeezed my legs together, clutching the soap in my hand. My knuckles pressed into my inner thighs, sending a sharp pain up through my body as I felt the blood cut off. I relaxed, dropped the soap, and slid my fingers from just below my opening all the way up. My middle finger guided the other two fingers up the flowing river, never entering but putting pressure on the banks, causing the sweet water to flow faster and thicker downstream before resting in the palm of my hand.

For a moment, I hesitated. Was this just another mistake? But the pull of my own desire was too strong to resist. I allowed my middle finger to rest lightly, then press down just enough. Unbelievably, I used my other two fingers to keep everything closed tight, furthering my anticipation. This caused me to tighten my Kegels, pushing forward and increasing the pressure on my magic spot. I felt the warmth intensify, and over my skin, pushing the magic button around, sending shockwaves through my body.

My breathing increased, my knees grew weak. Using my thumb for support, I gently opened myself up with my two outer fingers and slid my middle finger around, pushing into my swollen skin. Though water was everywhere, I could distinctly feel the thicker, hot liquid soaking my pink flesh..

I slid my middle finger up and down outside my flower, then wiggling at the top joint, I tapped slightly a little deeper. With each tiny contact, my finger was at the same time stuck by the flowing nectar and caught on the gripping of the opening, causing an asymmetric rhythm that matched the thumping of my beating heart.

Using my thumb, I continued to massage the tiny, now swollen bump. Exposed and erect from my other fingers stretching me open. Each delicate brush of skin on skin sent me into a frenzy. I needed more. My body craved more.

Without even realizing it, I pressed my fingers together and slid them inside. The sudden intrusion caught me off guard, and an ecstatic shriek escaped my throat. Using my thumb for leverage, I worked my fingers in and out, feeling the suction ebb and flow, matching the rhythm of my growing desire. Somehow, I found the strength to keep my thumb firmly in place, the momentum from my penetrating fingers pushing the pleasure from my thumb to a whole new level.

I found the rhythm I needed, each movement perfect, each thrust aligned with the flicker of my thumb. The sensation built, inevitable and thrilling. I felt the heat churn from deep within my belly, combined with an increasing flow that felt like lava, aligned with the tensing of every fiber of my body. My breathing increased, beads of sweat running down my face and under my heaving breasts. I reached terminal velocity, a perfect balance of speed, and held it there as it took me to the ground.

All at once, I exploded. I gasped, my mouth filling with hot water from the shower. My nipples tingled as they grew to an impossible size. My pelvis seized, and my thumb retreated from its position, causing my outer fingers to spring from below, giving way for a single finger to advance deeper than I thought possible.

Dazed, I held steady, feeling the hot shower rain over my head and face. My middle finger caressed inside as I released hot water from my mouth. I leaned my face forward, trying to catch my breath, the water now spraying the back of my head. My breasts, no longer as perky, hung heavily as I regained my composure.

Turing off the shower and wiping the water from my face, I died a little when I saw Troy standing, there. Now I remembered his name? Standing there with his not so little, little friend, going at it with a furious pace. Before I could process the scene in front of me he shot his load all over the shower door. Seriously? What once was clear glass, was not frosted.

At least it wasn't in my hair.