wet dreaming

I turned the shower to ‘on’.

I watched the water stream from the head in dazzles of droplets down onto me, covering me, soaking me. It was hot, not too hot, just hot enough.

My body adjusted to the temperature that now enveloped me turning my skin pinker than pink. Through my hair, down my face further descending over my shoulders cascading down my arms to my fingertips, streaming over my breasts, balancing on each nipple until usurped by the next droplet then the next then the next, flowing freely over my tummy, my waist, tickling my hips, teasing my thighs, from the tops of my legs, outer as well and inner thighs it had become unstoppable. Not that I wanted to stop such and tantalising sensation.

My skin began to tingle, naked as I was, as I am, as the water explored me most intimately without shame or hesitation, down my spine, like fingers caressing my buttocks, between, rivers in motion finding its way over my body easily. I was relaxing more and more, accepting more and more, allowing more and more of its whims to intrude my personal space.

Without a single word or sound other than a quite rush that water makes it encouraged submission without question.

I closed my eyes. I felt, I touched the familiar and yet every time as though discovering a stranger, a strange body, my body. My hands, fingers became another’s hands, fingers, and like the water I welcomed them in. Acceptance of this and the urge that compels me was not never in doubt, for this there is no denials, no deception, no hesitation, just the clarity of water turning me to glass unformed, unmade, to be shaped into something even better.

Upright I bathed in this beautiful agony: an agony of desire so unrepentant as to claw and scratch merciless until satisfied.

Unusually I wore my knickers, I felt compelled to indulge whatever reasoning my unconscious mind had in mind, the water soon soaking through the pink cotton, making them at first almost stick to me even closer for fear of dissolving. The way they even more now after mere minutes clung to my smaller curves, my shape, moulding themselves even more revealingly to my hips.

I pulled the waistband away and gave the falling water free access inside as each and every uncountable drop tantalised my naked sex beneath their indelible sparkles tickling with a crystalline purity.

I felt a touch; your touch; their touch; someone’s touch. I cared not who.

First on my cheeks, palms gently holding, lips kissing, breath brushing flesh. Surrender, it said. I didn’t have to be told twice.

Water became hands flowing incessant, creating ripples, rapids, tumbling and crashing over my breasts, shuddering my legs and hips encouraging me to stay upright, on my feet now standing in small puddles constantly replenished while as the same time drains away. Nipples erect, excited by the attention wanting more, needing more, demanding more.

I cupped my breasts and lifted them pressing them together, as you would; inhaling deeply the steam that now encompassed me, the entire room. I squeezed. My hand found its way down to the knickers and began pulling them away: first from my right hip then the left, then the right, in tiny increments making each sleight of hand last. More I felt my hips freed, exposed, I wanted them pulled roughly from me, torn away, savagely flayed from my thighs before I was able to resist.

They came away from my thighs and down my legs, stepping from them leaving my utterly naked, stripped of all protection.

Fingers, my fingers, the water’s fingers found their way easily over my mound, between my folds, seeping around my clitoris. I wants me to touch, the water, the lover, wants me to touch. I touch, gasp, begin to circle slowly, softly, carefully.

My body reacted and moved with it, a slow dance, a seductive dance, legs together, knees together, mind caught in a maelstrom of unrequited lust that wants so much to not be unrequited for long. I played the smallest circles not unlike those carved into sacred stone over my clit and around one nipple, enticing both to respond: they did, easily, eagerly. The steam continued to embrace me, smother me, capture me, bind me to these unfolding moments. I was its victim, its willing victim.

I heard a voice, mine, moaning, breathing heavily, my fingers becoming more urgent, more ravenous, more committed. Fingers tapped, circle, rub up and down, around my now erect nub, more sensitive, more tender, more on the edge than ever.  I stifled the urge to stop for the ecstatic agony I was now feeling, to go further, further, let myself be dragged screaming all the way.

Water continued to rain down on me relentless, flooding my senses, drowning all sense of perspective.

Fingers entreating, exploring, I have become pliable to this gift to me inviting myself inside myself as I’ve done many times before but here and now is much more potent. Pulse quickening responding to my heart beating in time, out of time, it could stop any moment, momentarily. I can feel it almost bursting as I feel myself quicken, knees buckling, barely holding me, back against the wall: if only you were here to lift me open me and enter me.

A tearing through my stomach, contractions, I continue to extract every drop of need from my body forcing me to scream, to swear, to shout at no one with no one to hear me, let the water trickle down my throat. I arch against the tiles and all at once am flooded inside and out my fingers moving deeper in and upwards, pressing, clamped by my muscles, I cum.

This orgasm shattering my bones I can’t stop the motions, the forcing more and more from myself. The water’s glistening everywhere, tiny rainbows trapped and then released as they flail in silent cries to the floor of the shower. I keep cumming, my body almost breaking begins to crumble from the inside out. I hear myself as though it’s someone else, another victim of unbridled, uncensored passion.

I float, I fall, I tremble each limb loses its sense of where it is, slipping down the waterwall as water continues to fall. Reaching for breath, any breath, scraps remains of air between the strings of clear liquid sending sprinkles everywhere. I smell the warmth, I smell of sex, I put my fingers to my lips and taste them, taste me:

I breathe.

Breathe.

Breathe.

wet dreaming

© Emmaleela 2019

7 Comments

  1. I wonder if you’ll believe me when I say I have been thinking about writing a “shower” post for so long!
    Not sure I will now since this is blindingly hot!

    The things that go on in a shower under that hot water…sigh♥

    Liked by 1 person

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