Erotic Encounter: Our First Time

The Make-Up

The water is warm; the constant thrumming of the droplets on the floor gives us a rhythm to unify and syncopate ourselves to. It is therapeutic in the sense that it washes off our anger, our bitterness, our jealousy. We are no longer in the middle of a fight about our loyalty and trust to one another—we are two connected people enjoying a shower.

Michael takes the cloth in his hand, adds soap to it, and begins to rub my shoulders clean of tonight's iniquities. We don't speak; we lean into each other, listen to the water, and feel each other. I close my eyes as he drags the cloth down my back, savoring his touch but still reflexively arching away from him. He steps closer to me, presses his torso against my back, and circles his hand to my chest. We stay like this for a long time—held together, heartbeats together, breaths together. His cloth-covered hand travels from my chest down, to the place he beautifully abused earlier. He slips the cloth between my legs, removing all evidence of our earlier encounter just like that. He keeps his hand there, lightly moving against my pussy, rocking into my body. My pussy gets wet again, and I know it's not just from the water of the shower. My hand reaches behind me, down to my destruction. His cock is aroused, but not hard—not yet, anyway. I wrap my hand around it, slowly tugging him into my hand. He groans into my ear, and begins moving the cloth faster, harder. I make sure my grip is secure as he expands beneath my hand, and I rub my hand up and down his dick faster. We keep going, our breaths still aligning as we both breathe faster, as we move our hands faster, as we press into each other. My clit feels hard and heavy, and he is rubbing it just right. When we are about to cum, he removes his hand from the apex of my thighs and steps away from me, letting his dick fall out of my hands. I turn around, curious, and he says, "We'll continue this in the bed." We rinse off, and he wraps his towel low on his hips. "I'll be waiting for you—don't take too long," he says with a wink. With that, he exits the bathroom.

I stare at my reflection in the mirror. My skin is flushed, but it makes me look like I'm glowing. I look happy, which just makes me happier—especially when I think about who it is that made me so happy. I quickly put lotion on, then grab the lavender oil—I am curious to see if it is an aphrodisiac or not. I dab some on my pulse points—neck, wrists, and inner thighs. After running a comb through my hair, I wink at my reflection and wrap the towel around my body. As I look at myself, though, I feel confident, and I feel sexy—I want to show that. I readjust my towel so that it hangs low on my hips like his did, keeping my chest and torso bare in the same manner. This small act of confidence alone warms my pussy up, makes her start to get wet again.
I open the bathroom door and walk back into his bedroom. He's laying on his bed, naked, reading while he waits for me. He'd already centered himself on the bed, with his legs open—a welcome invitation. His cock is still semi-hard, pointing towards the wall. When he hears me approach, he looks over with a a smile. When he sees me, his smile drops and his eyes get darker. His cock gets fully erect before he takes his next breath, the full ten inches pointed straight at the ceiling. I sway my hips, twirling the towel around and making my breasts bounce and sway a bit as well. His cock flexes as I move, connected even without touch. I walk toward him, and he extends a hand to me. I take his hand, and he gently pulls me to him, helps me settle between his legs. As he pulls the towel from my hips and tosses it to the floor, he says, "That was so fucking sexy."

I roll my hips towards him, my wet pussy rocking against his hard cock. My hand goes to his cock, my fingers dancing over the spot made wet by my juices. I flex my nails against him, teasing him. "I'm glad you thought so. It made me feel sexy." I stroke him gently as my clit begins to throb and my blood warms, anticipation lingering in my veins. He lightly caresses my neck, gently over the mark he sucked onto my skin. He presses his lips on it, slightly, and licks over the forming bruise. My body arches to his touch, making my chest press into his. He breathes is the lavender oil I had brushed hurriedly into my neck, and groans.