The Shower

This was my first time writing a story, so feedback would be much appreciated.

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Part I: Three Reasons

My job is getting the hot water flowing and making sure the temperature is ok for our entrance; hers is getting in first and taking care of the fine tuning. I'm not really sure how this arrangement started, especially since it's her shower, but I know exactly why I stick with it.

I pull my shirt off over my head as I follow her into the bathroom, and watch her do the same. Reason number 1: if she's getting in first, she's getting naked first. I turn on the water and watch her strip down. I am not talking about some showy strip tease, and believe me, she doesn't need to try to put on a show. Her movements are totally natural, totally unconscious, and totally sexy. Her body is everything I could ever want, and there is nothing better than watching her be herself. I am treated to an eyeful as I feel the water, and my blood, warming. When she catches my eye to ask if the water is ready, I am fully hard, and can see she is fully aware of the effect she has on me. I'm not sure which of us enjoys it more.

She steps in, and lets out something between a sign of content and a moan of pleasure as the water hits her. From outside the shower, I can just picture the look and feel of the fine goosebumps the hot water raises on her skin as her body adjusts to the warm shower and still cool air. That sound, the anticipation of putting my hands on her warm, wet body, and the response I am expecting from her when I do are reason number 2. I take a moment to savor the thoughts and let my eyes run over her discarded clothes before I drop my pants and follow her in.

She must have just finished dialing the temperature in, as she is still facing the front. She steps forward, letting the water wet her hair, and I am treated to the sight of it flowing over her back and shoulders and down her ass. She lets out a little shiver, which only improves the sight, and I move to embrace her. I press myself against her back, feeling her hot, slick flesh against me, and wrap myself around her. She folds her arms up over mine and melts against my body as I kiss her neck. The taste of her skin after a long day, the feeling every muscle in her body relaxing, and the smell that envelopes me, well, there is just nothing like it. There's that sigh/moan again. And that is reason 3.

Part II: Patience

I don't have a foot fetish, and neither does she; her feet are simply very sensitive in a way that is very pleasurable for her and, therefore, very pleasurable for me. This is why, as I hold her, I turn us around and guide her to sit on the on the rear ledge of the tub. I adjust the shower head to keep the warm water on her, and, reaching for soap and a wash cloth, kneel before her. I kiss the inside of one thigh and look up at her as I run the soap slowly up the other. With soap, cloth, and hands, I clean, massage, and tease my way down her legs.

Upon reaching her ankles, I pause and look up to find her head tilted back, eyes closed, and hands on the wall over her head: my favorite view. So long as she was willing to slowly build her pleasure, I would do the same. Setting the soap aside, I work my way slowly back up her legs. Now, as the clean water washes away the soap, my mouth joins my hands. From leg to leg and back again, caressing, kissing, and licking, I work my way higher and higher. With a hand on each hip, I ask her if she could be patient a little while longer. She opens her eyes to look into mine, and nods. I smile, and, still smiling, kiss her.

Sinking down slowly, I trail kisses down her neck, her chest, and her stomach. Here I deviate from her center, mouth to the right and hands to the left. "Not yet," I say, as much to myself as to her, as I descend past her hips and down her legs once more. This time, I do not stop short. Holding one foot down against the floor of the tub, I raise the other to my mouth. I trail my tongue down the inside of her ankle, between the bone and tendon, and give a gentle bite on the inside of her heel. Her enjoyment is clear, I hear her breathing change and begin to smell her musk in the warm, humid air. Turning her foot, my mouth moves slowly along her instep and up to the ball of her foot, gently but with a purpose. I slide my tongue up and into the gap between her first two toes, and her response indicates that my meaning is not lost on her.

I pull her foot from my mouth, and, as I slide my hand up her leg to her hip, she places her foot on the side ledge of the tub. Eyes closed, she says my name, telling me she is ready. I draw her other foot up from the floor and wrap my hand over her instep, pressing my fingers firmly into the sole. With the edge of her foot planted on my shoulder, her legs naturally part as I lean forward. I feel one hand on the back of my head, and she says my name again. And again. She has no more need to be patient.