Little Shower Scene 1

The water from the shower sluiced down my skin and made the hair at the end of my ponytail curl. Tristan came up behind me and caressed my naked back. I felt his light and tentative touch on my skin.

"You do not have any tan lines; haven't you worn your swimsuit yet this year?"

"I do not own a swimsuit," I replied. Tristan's fingers became more insistent. His hands felt possessive as they roamed over my back and down to my waist, hips, and ass.

"I'll buy you one," Tristan said, "something slinky and sexy." He grabbed my hand as he said it. Our rings clinked together. The shower continued to fill with steam. I caught sight of our entwined hands in front of me. To my left was a shower wall and to my right was the shower door, opaque with condensation.

"You want other people to see my body?" I asked, laughing. I knew exactly what he wanted.

"Yes, baby," he replied. His voice was low in my ear. Water dripped from his eyebrows onto my shoulders, down my spine, through the cleft in my ass, and down onto the floor.

"In fact," Tristan continued, "I want other people to fuck your body."

I felt his hard cock frisking my ass, straining to fill a hole. He leaned me forward, and my hands splayed against the shower wall. At this angle, his cock slid inside me with only a bit of resistance. He pressed my upper body down farther. Now my head was pushed against the wall. Water ran over my back and down my legs. Tristan thrust inside me. His hands held my hips, creating leverage and engaging my core. I strained to keep my toes steady on the floor and to keep my upper body from being shoved forward into the wall. As he fucked me, images were flashing through my mind.

"Ooo, Daddy," I murmured. "Next time we go to the club, I know just what I want you to do. Buy me a new dress. Something slutty and cheap. Lead me past all the couples sitting in the couches and chairs to the door down to the basement. Walk me by the glory hole and the pommel horses, and sit me in the sex swing in the middle of the room. Strap my arms to the sides of the swing. A few people will have followed us down. Pull one of my tits out of the top of my dress, then the other. Your dick will be hard and aching, so you'll take it out of your pants and stroke yourself. But, you won't fuck me. Instead, you'll look down at your wife bound to a chair in the middle of a room of strangers, and you'll start touching yourself. You'll tug at your eager cock until you feel your orgasm coming. Then, you'll shoot your load all over me. Me and my cheap dress will be covered in your fluid. And you'll leave me there like that. You'll go find somebody else to fuck. You'll go suck another guy's cock - get his come all over your face."

With that thought lingering in his ears, Tristan came inside me. His dick pulsed his semen into my body. I imagined it splashing inside me, covering my walls and dripping down. I imagined my body absorbing him, soaking his come up and into my muscles. The story I had told about the club was also reverberating in my mind.

I reached my right hand down and fingered my wet and swollen clit. My upper body was scissored forward with my face against the wall and my toes stretching to maintain my balance. Tristan's erection was still hard enough to keep us pinioned together, even after he had pumped me full. I looked up to see our rings glistening together.

My pussy was aching for release. Each touch of my finger on my clit created a silvery edge to my vision. Although water filled the air, our juices covered my finger and cunt.

Thinking about Tristan's come simultaneously flooding my insides and coating me while I was tied up and mewling, brought me to the brink of orgasm. My knees quivered; I struggled to keep balance. Tristan held me from behind with his head curving into my back. I swirled my clit a few more times and came - my seizing pussy milking every last bit of come out of my husband's still pulsing dick.