The steam caressed Michelle's caramel flesh like wafting rose-scented clouds, rising and dissipating into the white of the ceiling. Warm water pelted her chest, tempting her nipples to pique in readiness for Sterling's touch. He stepped into the shower all man, his muscular abs gleaming even before the water kissed their perfect contours.
Her drenched nakedness called his cock to arms, ready for the war games, the friendly fire. Extending her hand in peace, she pulled him to her until her tits met his hard front. She kissed his chest, his neck, his full lips under the welcome assault of the shower like falling rain. All the while, she pumped his cock. She could never bring herself to tug him hard like he asked for. How could that feel good? No, her style was gentle all the way, slow and steady like Aesop always said.
Sterling grabbed her ass and squeezed. When he drew breath to speak, she knew what to expect. He'd noticed the effects of the cardio classes at the gym and the jogging three times a week. Tough some mornings, getting up at six, but the results were well worth the effort.
"Hard to believe this thing's one hundred percent fiberglass," he said.
Pardon me?
Pulling away to look her husband in the cool-casual eye, Michelle asked, "Baby, what'd you just call me?"
Without hearing her—or at least, without responding directly to her question—Sterling fondled the shower wall. "It's all one piece. Isn't that incredible? The tub, the wall, all the way up to the ceiling, it's just one big molded sheet of fiberglass."
Michelle rolled her eyes, not entirely amused, but not entirely put off. She circled her arms around him. "Honey-cake, while you're going on and on about the shower, you are one hundred percent forgetting about the woman in the shower." She planted kisses across his chest. "Naked in the shower." Kissing up his neck to nibble at his ear, she teased, "You got your precious shower fittings, now how about fitting your precious wife with that big 'ol cock, hmm?"
Sterling growled as she swiped his cockhead across her belly. Felt good, but the sensation would be better with suds.
As she reached for the soap, Michelle's heel backed into an invisible pool of dried shampoo from the nearly-empty upside-down bottle on the tub's ledge. She started to slip. She reached for the wall, but of course that was no help. The wall was solid and smooth. As she lost her balance, slipping backwards, Sterling tightened his grip around her waist and pulled her to his chest.
It happened so fast she didn't even get a chance to shriek in terror, but it was enough to set her straight. Clinging to her husband's firm black body, she cried, "I knew it. What did I tell you? I knew it. Didn't I say?"
"You're okay," he consoled, like she was a child fallen from a bicycle. "I've got you in my arms. You're okay."
"I am most certainly not okay," she said, releasing him to loosen the pool of dried shampoo with her big toe. Picking up the upside-down bottle, she squeezed its contents into her palm before replacing it, right-side-up, on the tub ledge. She forced the jasmine-scented shampoo into her hair. "All our marriage, you want one thing. You want to do me in the shower. I've done everything—everything—else there is to do because, let's face it, I'm no prude. Still, all I hear from you is shower, shower, shower. I don't want to do it in the shower, Sterling. I don't feel safe. I could fall asleep and break my neck. Still, all I hear..."
"You're worried you might fall asleep in the shower?" Sterling interrupted. A tentative grin broke like a rainbow across his lips.
Had she misspoken? Yes she had. She could laugh it off and kiss his lips, then his cock...and wind up smashing her head open on the faucet? No way. No mercy at times like these. "Fall and slip, I said. Not fall asleep. You'd better clean those big ears when you're done with that big..."
Her gaze fell to the danger zone. She couldn't resist her husband's cock, any time, any place. The temptation was right there, close enough to touch. But no. Not safe.
"Hey, what'd my big ears ever do to you?" he chuckled, running his hands down her backside.
His hard body exerted such a pull on her. "Hmm? What'd you say?"
"Maybe you ought to clean your ears out too, girl." He laughed, tracing a soapy palm along his shaft. He knew she would watch if he did. Of course she would watch. That bad boy was spectacular. "You seem a little...distracted?"
"Hmm?" she repeated. He stroked it root to tip, letting his cockhead fall from his fingers just as the other hand prepared to catch it. A sly grin bled across his lips as he watched her watching him.
Without so much as rinsing her hair, Michelle grabbed hold of Sterling's cock. When she pushed the shower curtain aside, he followed her to the bedroom. Her husband was like a dog so happy for its walk it overlooks the leash it's on.
"Girl, you must be hungry for it. You didn't even turn the water off!" he chuckled. She'd fallen so deep into lust that economic and environmental concerns escaped her.
"Oh," she replied, almost like she might do something about that. She didn't. Instead, she pushed his dripping-wet body down on the ottoman that used to match the dark green velvet chair. Now the chair was gone and the ottoman didn't match anything, but they still found use for it.
He sat, leaning back, hands gripping the ottoman. His cock pointed to Michelle like a dowsing rod. I found the juice, it said. Mighty wet down there. Refresh yourself in that water, man. It's all for you.
With shampoo dripping down her shoulders, Michelle climbed on board. She straddled her man—one knee on the ottoman, one foot on the floor—and heaved her body down on him. She wasn't heavy, but he sure knew she was there. Her cunt was all around him, soaking and stroking his cock. When she moved on him, he moved in her. As she bounced and heaved, her tits swung before him like caramel temptations.
Holding the small of her back, Sterling curled toward her chest. She rose like an angel and fell like a demon. When he took her tits in his mouth and sucked those finest of nipples, she sighed his name. She proclaimed that she loved him...or she loved that... She loved something, anyway, and something's better than nothing.
As Sterling sucked, she bounced faster, gearing up for the explosion that was soon to come. She could feel it right down to her toes. That big cock did it for her every time. Working her tits was a nice touch—showed the man cared—but Michelle knew she could come with no more encouragement than his cock in her pussy and the sound of their wet thighs slapping.
He came before she did. She could see it in the magical contortions of his face, the way his lips twitched and his eyes rolled back in his head like he was having some kind of seizure. She wasn't far behind. She was sure she looked like a million bucks when she had her orgasm. Of course, she never dared to glance at the mirror when the time to come came, just in case she was wrong. Sometimes it was pleasanter living the lie.
Lifting her from the ottoman, cock in cunt, Sterling carried Michelle into the bathroom. She chuckled and called him crazy as he leaned her head under the running water to wash out her shampoo.
"Reach over slowly and close the taps," he said.
She looked up at him like he had three heads. "You have got to be kidding me. I can't do that. I'll crack my skull."
"Trust me. I've got you," he whispered in that voice like dark velvet. "Anyway, it's just fiberglass. You might bump your head, but you're not going to crack anything."
"Very reassuring," she replied, pushing her voice flat. The taps really weren't that far away. She reached out and shut them off quick as a bunny. Something bubbled inside her, and she looked up at Sterling in amazement. "I did it!"
"See?" he said, pulling her to his chest. She grabbed a towel as he carried her from the bathroom to the bedroom and tossed her onto the satin coverlet. She bounced against the mattress and chuckled in adoration. He kissed her legs. Crawling up her body, he said, "Nothing to be afraid of, except that you'll like it too much."
Wrapping the towel around her wet hair, she laughed like it was unfathomable she'd ever enjoy shower sex. But he was right. She might like it. She might love it. If she tried.
"It's not that I don't want to, honey-cake," she began. He crawled up to her chest, resting his cheek on her breast and his body next to hers. "You know what I'm like. I want everything."
"I know you do," he chimed in with a deep chuckle.
"And it's not to spite you, though I know it may look that way."
"I know it's not."
"The simple cause is I'm afraid of getting hurt. That's it," she went on, trying to convince herself.
"I believe you," he began. Cautiously, he admitted, "I didn't at first. That's why I got that rusted-out old turquoise tub replaced by the new one. I figured you didn't appreciate the surroundings."
"Surroundings don't trouble me," she teased. Stretching her hands above her head, she flexed her feet. "I never seemed to mind getting it on in that rusted-out old turquoise car you used to have."
He wouldn't let her get the better of him. Pinching her sides, he replied, "I never had any rusted-out turquoise car and you know it."
"Oh," she taunted, pinching him back. "Well, then, who am I thinking of?" She laughed, giving away the ruse. He chuckled right along with her until exhaustion overtook him.
As his dark lids curled closed, she saw in him the twenty-two year old she'd met in college. Though it wasn't long ago, it seemed like a different era altogether. They'd been so polite with each other in the beginning—almost to the point of formality at times—like belles and beaux of the regency period. Not that a man and woman with their skin tones would have been wearing suits and gowns or courting at debutant balls back then. Maybe that was the appeal. They wanted what their ancestors couldn't have.
She would have done anything for him back then. He would have done anything for her too, but he would still do anything for her, so nothing had changed there. One evening, long before they were married, they were chatting each other up on the phone. Sterling mentioned having a hankering for a certain brand of potato chips. Well, the second they hung up that phone, didn't she head right out to buy him a packet? Not just that, but hand-deliver it right to his door? She did indeed. A kind man deserved his just reward.
Now she took him for granted, she realized. Every morning, he'd be there beside her as she woke up. Every night he'd be there too. She could count on all that, so why bother working for it?
Why bother?
