shower
11:22 p.m.<>2001-08-24
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we've just come back home from a day of hiking on skyline drive with a group of friends. all day long i kept a few paces behind jodie, so i could watch her walk.
i love watching jodie walk. i love watching her move. even when she is dressed simply and functionally, as she was today, the sight of her body in motion can still make my heart pound. the way her shoulders move, for example, beneath the green cotton of her modest t-shirt. one of her shoulders is ever so slightly higher than the other, and the assymetrical rolling is arresting and pleasing to the eye. it is the same quirky lopsidedness that one finds in her crooked smile, the quick flash of her teeth followed by the ironic pursing of her lips. or the motion of her full rear within the khaki walking shorts she was wearing. entrancing, the way each hemisphere gently hitched and swayed before me. the miles on the trail passed virtually without notice as i focused on her behind.
the way the back of her neck flushes pink when she exerts herself, the color mottling her smooth skin when we hike or when we make love. the tiny hairs there, the ones i love to blow on when we're alone and naked with each other. i love to watch her calves when she steps onto a log, love watching the muscles flex and relax. i love it when she sweats, because that's when the short brown strands of her hair cling to her temples and her forehead, and when she has to repeatedly reach up with one slender finger to keep her glasses from sliding down her nose. i love the secret, tender spot on the backs of her knees. i love wanting her.
i love knowing that other men, and women too, also watch her. also want her.
we've just come home from hiking on skyline drive with a group of friends. exhausted and sweaty, jodie starts peeling off her clothes and heading for the shower as soon as we enter the apartment. she leaves an enticing wake from the front door to the bathroom. a hiking boot, a sock. a pair of khaki walking shorts. a green t-shirt. a pair of white cotton panties. i look at her clothes strewn along the hall, and feel the stirring between my legs. i wait.
the whine of the old pipes hits my ears, then the steady hiss of water from the shower. i stand in the hallway, feeling little gusts of steam puff from behind the bathroom door. i imagine jodie inside, amid the thickening clouds of white condensation. i picture her bending down to adjust the faucet, her perfect bottom facing the door. she will have laid her glasses, with their fogged up lenses, on the sink. a shift in the sound tells me she has climbed into the shower. how delicious all that hot water must feel to her now, coursing over her aching muscles, running down the curves of her body, bringing a rose hue to her fair skin.
she will be soaping herself now, i think. the washcloth will be running over her arms, across the back of her neck. she'll rub it down her legs, first the right, and then the left. the muscles around her ribs will tighten as she stoops to scrub her feet. maybe she's passing the cloth over her stomach now, or reaching behind to get the small of her back. maybe she's passing her hand, white with lather, beneath her breasts, between her breasts. maybe it's on her nipples now. maybe they're hard. i close my eyes and find it suddenly difficult to swallow.
she reacts with surprise as i slowly draw the curtain back. then she smiles. her hair is plastered to her scalp, a slick helmet. i step into the steaming shower, naked and hard, and i take the washcloth from her hand. turning her around so that her back is facing me, i begin to soap her beautiful, asymmetrical shoulders. i lean forward and close my lips around the flesh just at the top of her spine. i taste hot water and her sweetness. we both hum softly with pleasure as i press my hardness into the cleft between her buttocks. my hands slip around in front of her, and the large, wet globes of her breasts fill my hands. my fingertips find her nipples hard.
we abandon all pretense of simply bathing. as jodie turns around to face me, i slide to my knees in the cramped space. my hands slide up her thighs and around to her bottom. it hurts my neck to crane my head up at this angle, but i don't mind, since the next sensation i feel is that of her juncture, her wetness, her sweetness on my tongue. the tight, sodden curls pressing against my nose smell of lavender soap. slowly, carefull, taking care not to lose her balance on the slippery tiles, jodie raises her right foot onto the edge of the tub, giving me more room to lick and burrow. my neck hurts, but i'm past caring. she twines her fingers in my hair and moans. in my eager mouth, the taste of her juices mingle with the warm, rushing water that courses down her body. I look up to see it cascading down her face, running over her neck, dripping off the tips of her breasts. i want to drink every drop of water that touches her body. i want to drink her. i do. she moans again.
my knees ache from pressing against the tile. the muscles in her right thigh are trembling with the effort to maintain her balance. she steadies herself against the wall of the shower with one hand. the other is stroking and pulling on her breast. i want to drink her dry. i want my lips and tongue all over her body, inside it. i want to make her come so hard that she can't stay upright, that i have to hold on to her to keep her from falling. the water is getting cold and my knees and neck are sore, but i don't care.
i look up at jodie and smile. through the fog of her pleasure, she looks down at me and returns the smile. i love watching her smile, watching her move. she puts her hand on the back of my head, pushes my face toward her. i open my mouth and make her moan some more.
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