Hillary

Then I felt him stiffen. “Hillary, I just thought of something,” he said. His voice sounded a little funny.

“What?” I asked.

“Ah…are you…on the pill?” he said.

I laughed. “Yeah, don’t worry, I’ve been on the pill for years.” I lifted my head and gave him a little kiss. “You don’t have to worry about getting me pregnant.” As I said that, his cock slid out of me. “That tickled. Darn, you aren’t in me any more,” I said.

“I know,” he replied. He wrapped his arms around me and gave me a hug. “I hate to move, but I really do need to go to the bathroom,” he told me.

I managed to get to my feet, which wasn’t all that easy given how we were lying on the sofa, then he sat up and stood up. His pants and underpants were still tangled around one of his ankles and he still had his shirt and undershirt on. He looked kind of silly standing there like that, and I couldn’t help but giggle. It made him blush. “I know, I’m not a Chippendale dancer,” he said.

“It isn’t that, it’s because you still have half your clothes on,” I said. It surprised me to learn that he might be worried about how his body looked. I never knew guys cared about stuff like that, other than maybe how big their cocks are.

“Oh, well, if that’s all it is,” he said. He stripped off the rest of his clothes, then he headed for the bathroom.

I figured if he could fold my stuff, I could do the same for him, so I picked up his things, folded them, and put them on the chair next to mine. I also folded up the bathrobe I’d been wearing. It had a big wet spot on it because we’d been lying on it while we were fucking. It never even occurred to me to get dressed. All of a sudden it didn’t matter any more that I was naked in front of him.

“What time do you have to be home?” Mr. D asked when he came back from the bathroom.

“No particular time,” I told him. I looked at the windows and realized it had gotten dark out. How long had I been there, anyhow?
“Won’t your parents worry if you stay out too late?” he asked.

“They’re not home. Daddy had a business conference in Toronto this week and he took my mother along,” I explained.

“Oh,” he said. He sat down on the sofa next to me and gave me the strangest look. “You are such a lovely, incredible young woman,” he said softly. He cupped my face gently with one hand.

That made me blush. “I…not really…I’m not,” I stammered. I have no idea why I reacted that way. I guess I never really thought about myself like that.

“You most assuredly are,” he repeated, looking me straight in the eye. And like before, it was as if I could see inside him looking in his eyes and I knew he really meant what he was saying. He leaned forward and kissed me really gently. It felt so neat it made me shudder a little.

“I don’t know about you,” he said, “but I feel as if I need a shower.” He grinned at me. “Would you like to take one with me?”

That was something I’d never done before and it sounded like a great idea. “Sure, sounds like fun,” I said.

I got up and we walked into the bathroom together. It was like something had changed between us that made it OK for us to be naked with each other. Maybe it had to do with the fact that we’d had incredible sex together, I’m not sure, but I wasn’t embarrassed about being naked in front of Mr. D and he didn’t seem upset about being naked in front of me, either. I mean, it was like he said; he didn’t have the body of a Chippendale dancer, but he sure as heck wasn’t gross looking, either.

Mr. D has the wildest shower I’d ever seen. You go in through a glass door like a regular shower, but his is huge, like almost as big as the rest of the bathroom. There are places to sit along three of the walls, a showerhead coming out of the three sides where the door isn’t. On one side, near one of the places to sit, there was a spray hose, too. He got the water running and the temperature right, and we got in.

“This is unreal,” I told him. “I’ve never seen a shower like this before.”

“I got a really great deal on it at a home show,” he said. “I don’t spend money on a lot of fancy things, but I thought this would be worth it.

“Would you like it if I washed your hair?” he asked.

I looked at him, surprised, and said, “You really want to wash my hair?”

He nodded and said, “It would be my pleasure.”

I figured it couldn’t hurt. My hair was going to get wet in the shower anyhow, and I wear it straight, so it wasn’t like he was going to spoil my hairdo or anything. “Hey, OK, if you want to, I don’t mind,” I said. Mr. D sure was different from most of the guys my age I know. There’s no way I could ever see Dave wanting to wash my hair. Nope, no way, no how.

Mr. D pointed to the seat built into the wall near where the spray hose was. “Why don’t you sit there?” he said.

I did. I closed my head and leaned it back and Mr. D used the spray hose to get my hair completely wet. Then I felt his fingers moving through my hair and could feel the lather from the shampoo forming. It was wild! I had no idea having a guy wash your hair could feel so neat! He kept working the shampoo into my hair until he really had things lathered up and had my scalp tingling in the neatest way. OK, other parts of me were tingling, too. I sure as heck didn’t expect that would happen.

“Time to rinse,” he said.

I closed my eyes, leaned my head back, and he rinsed the lather out of my hair. When he finished that, he shampooed my hair again, and after he rinsed me the second time, he put conditioner in! God, the guy was like a hairdresser. Except by the time he was putting the conditioner in my hair, I was pretty darn turned on. I’ve had my hair done by a hairdresser a couple of times and I never got turned on before. Of course Philippe, the guy who did my hair both of those times, is gay and we both had out clothes on, so that could be why I didn’t get turned on.

“You want me to wash your hair while the conditioner is on?” I asked Mr. D.

He smiled and said, “OK.”

I think Mr. D liked having me wash his hair as much as I liked having him wash mine, because he had a pretty good start on a hard-on by the time I was finished with him. I know because I checked. And besides, he was naked, so there was no way to hide it, was there?

After we were finished washing each other’s hair, Mr. D handed me a yellow washcloth, one that was a lot fluffier than the terrycloth stuff we have at home. “The soap’s over there,” he said, pointing toward where a place to hold soap was molded into the wall of the shower room.

I took one bar of soap and began lathering up my washcloth and he did the same thing to a dark blue washcloth he had. I was watching him because I noticed that when he was rubbing the soap to get the lather in the washcloth, other parts of him moved. When I looked up and saw that he was looking at me, my face got hot, but then I saw where he was looking and it wasn’t at my face. I guess parts of me were moving, too. I thought it was neat that when he realized I knew what he’d been looking at, he blushed.

“Shall we wash ourselves or should we do each other?” he asked me, grinning.

I’m pretty sure he already knew what my answer was going to be. In fact I didn’t answer him. I just stepped closer to him and began running the lather-filled washcloth I had in my hand over him, starting with his chest and shoulders. And as soon as I did that, he started “washing” me, too, lathering up pretty much the same places on me I was lathering up on him. It was as neat “washing” Mr. D and having him “wash” me as having him give me a shampoo. He still had that incredible soft, gentle touch and he was trying to be thorough and “wash” all of me. He spent a lot of time on certain places, like my nipples, and that was driving me crazy. Like I said, I was “washing” the same places on him and I noticed that his nipples were hard, too, and I saw his face change a little when I rubbed the washcloth over them. It never occurred to me that guys liked having their nipples played with. Once I figured that out, I really went to work on them. I glanced while I was doing that and saw that it was having a very arousing effect on him.

When he finished with my breasts – I don’t think they’ve ever been washed as well as he washed them – he re-lathered the washcloth, then he surprised me by grabbing me, turning me around. He began sliding the washcloth over my back, moving downward, toward my butt, slowly but surely. I couldn’t believe how turned on I was getting again. I mean, I’d already had at least three mind-blowing orgasms. It didn’t seem possible I had enough energy left to get turned on again, but I sure as heck was.

He kept going farther and farther down my back. My dimples back there got a lot of attention, then he started in on my butt. God! He washed each cheek separately and was really careful washing between them. By the time he moved on to my legs, I was hanging on to the wall, my legs were shaking so hard. Man, he sure knew exactly how to touch me to turn me on! After he finished my legs, he had me turn around. I’d stopped doing anything to him because I had to hang on to the wall to keep from falling, but he kept right on going. He did my belly, starting just under my breasts and working his way down. I knew the minute he put that washcloth between my legs I was going to cum and that’s exactly what happened. Jeezum! I started moaning and shaking and my legs went weak and my hips were rocking up and down against his hand. I felt him slid an arm around me to help hold me up, but he didn’t stop doing what he was doing to my pussy. God! It wasn’t as wild as when we fucked, but it was still pretty damn awesome.

I felt him moving me around, but I was still kind of out of it from cumming and wasn’t really sure what he was doing. I finally was able to think clearly enough to realize that he was sitting on one of the seats and had moved me so I was standing in front of him, with my back to him. I was pretty foggy from cumming, so I wasn’t quite sure what he was up to. Then he put his hands on my hips and pulled me back toward him and down. I had to spread my legs to straddle his, and even though I was pretty out of it, I knew what he was doing then. I heard myself moan when I felt his hard-on poking me in the butt. He reached between us and centered the tip where it needed to be, then I let myself sink down on him, and let out a sigh while I did.

I’m supposed to describe how it all felt and that’s really hard. I think I’ve compared it to, like, the weather enough. What happened as I slid down onto Mr. D’s hard-on there in the shower was kind of like the way you feel when you’re on a roller coaster. You go up the steep hill and get a real thrill when you go over the top and start shooting down the other side. You kind of settle down when you get to the bottom of the hill, then you either get pitched up in the air again, or go around a really sharp curve, or maybe go into a loop. That’s kind of what happened to me when Mr. D pulled me down onto his lap. When he made me cum with his washcloth, it was like going over the first hill of the roller coaster. Then, just when I’d reached the bottom of that hill, he stuck his hard-on into me and off I went into what felt like a series of fantastic loops and curves while he rocked his hips, shoving himself into me. I started lifting and lowering myself, too, adding to the awesome sensations, then he grabbed my breasts and started twirling my nipples between his fingers and thumbs. God, was that ever incredible! It wasn’t long before he had me climbing the biggest hill of all, then we both groaned and he grabbed my hips and held me against him really tight. I could feel his hard-on kind of pumping, then his hot stuff shot into me again. When that happened, I shot over the top and dropped into a kind of weightless, wild, wonderful feeling. It was so great.

I leaned back in his arms and he held me really tight after we finished. It seemed to take a while for us to get our senses back but, Jeezum, we’d been going at it like a couple of rabbits for God knows how many hours without much of a break except for when we ate the pizza. Once we were both able to stand, we did. We managed to finish the shower without fucking again, but I can’t say I didn’t walk out of that incredible shower room just a little turned on. And Mr. D was, too.

We dried each other off with these really incredible fluffy towels he has, then he dried my hair. You read that right. He used a blow dryer and brush to dry my hair, and did it better than I could have. Well, maybe not any better, but it was a heck of a lot more fun to have him do it than when I do it myself. Of course it really didn’t do anything to make me any less turned on, but…

“You said your parents are going to be away the entire week?” Mr. D asked while he was finishing drying my hair.

“They’re supposed to come back sometime during the day Friday,” I told him. “Why?” I couldn’t figure out why, all of a sudden, he was asking my about my parents.

“Well, if your parents aren’t home…” he said.

God, I can be pretty dense sometimes. All of a sudden I figured out what he was getting at. He wanted me to stay the night. Wow! “Do…do you…are you…I mean…do you want…me…um…?”

Mr. D grinned and said, “Would you like to spend the night?”

“Wow, would I ever!” I said, without even thinking.

“I’m glad,” he said.

“What time is it, anyhow?” I asked. I really didn’t have any idea.

“Before we came in to take the shower, I think it was around nine,” he said.

“Nine o’clock! Wow!” I exclaimed. I’d arrived at his house a little before one. That meant we were doing what we were doing for almost eight hours. I’d never had sex that long before. Sometimes with Dave, I’m lucky if it lasts eight minutes. OK, Mr. D and I weren’t having sex the whole time, but you know what I mean.

“If you don’t want to go to bed, we can watch TV, or maybe a movie,” Mr. D said.

“Bed’s OK with me,” I told him. Actually, I was kind of tired. I mean, I did have a pretty strenuous day.

“Come on.” Mr. D took my hand, led me out the bathroom door, turned right, and led me to the bedroom that was located between the bathroom and kitchen. I could tell it was the spare bedroom because even though it was really nice, and had a Queen-size bed and TV and VCR, there weren’t any personal things in it, like pictures and stuff. He was planning to use this bedroom and not the master bedroom because that’s where he slept with his wife. It was the first time I’d thought about him being married since the whole thing between us started and it made me feel guilty about what I was doing for the first time.

On top of that, things got a little strange once we were standing next to the bed. We kind of looked at each other as if neither one of us knew what to do or say next. And it occurred to me that I’d never really “slept” – I mean like to go to sleep and all for a whole night – in a bed with a guy. Oh, sure, Dave and I have screwed in my bed a bunch of times when my folks weren’t home, but he’s never stayed over. I mean, this was going to be the first time I actually did “sleep” with a guy. For some reason, the fact that it was Mr. D I was doing it with was kind of nice.

Mr. D bent down and gave me a kiss. “Look,” he said, “there’s something I need to do. The remote for the TV is on the nightstand next to the bed, there. If you want, you can watch TV until I get back.”

“OK,” I said.

“I’ll be right back, I promise,” he told me, then he turned and walked out of the room. I heard him going down the hall, then the sound of a door opening and closing. I turned around, pulled down the covers, and slid into the bed. I picked up the remote, turned on the TV, found the country music channel, and laid back to watch videos while I waited for Mr. D. OK, so I like country music, so what? Some kids my age do like it. I like lots of different kinds of music, really, even classical, but I like country the best, especially Garth Brooks and Alan Jackson. Oh, yeah, and I really love John Michael Montgomery. He’s so cute with that awesome smile and those dimples.

I lay there wondering what Mr. D had to do, then it hit me; he was probably calling his wife and daughter. Jeezum! That made me feel like shit. How could something be as neat as what he and I were doing be wrong? I tried to convince myself he and I weren’t hurting anybody, but I couldn’t quite do it.

I guess I fell asleep because I jumped when I felt the bed moving a little later. I was still waking up when I felt warm skin brushing against mine and an arm slid around me. “Hi, sleepyhead,” Mr. D purred, then he kissed me on the cheek.

“I’m sorry,” I said, “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“That’s all right,” he replied. He grinned. “I certainly can understand why you might be a bit tired.”

I felt my face getting warm – how come I kept blushing? “Ah…yeah…I…I guess,” I said.

Mr. D bent his head forward and kissed me on the lips; not just a peck, a real kiss. It was only the second time he’d done that since I had showed up at his house earlier. Our first kiss was pretty incredible, only the best I’d ever had, but this one was better. It was like he knew how to do all that kind of stuff, you know, stuff about making out, about as well as it could be done. I mean, his touch is the most incredible I’ve ever felt, not that I’m that experienced or anything. And he kisses neater than any guy I ever knew; only I’m not sure I know why. I mean, kissing is just putting your lips together, right? OK, and maybe getting some tongue action in, too. How hard is that? And how come it feels different when different people kiss you?

Mr. D kisses me like he touches me; really gently. It isn’t like he does it so much different, because he doesn’t, but somehow when his lips are against mine, they’re gentler, and it feels really awesome. I’ve always liked kissing, and I guess Mr. D likes it, too. He’s gotta like it. I mean, once he started kissing me, it was like he wasn’t going to stop. And I really didn’t want him to. OK, he was doing more than kissing me. He was touching me all over my body, like he’d done before, only kinda different. He still used the tips of his fingers – God, it makes me get goose bumps go all weird inside just to think about it – at first, but he started changing from using just the tips of his fingers to using the flat of his hand, too. That was so wild! He’d use his fingertips to get my skin all tingly, then he’d slide his hand over me – almost as lightly – and kind of calm my skin down. Then he’d make me all tingly with his fingers again. It was so wild! And all the time he was doing that, he was kissing me and our tongues were lashing around and I was getting so turned on again. God, I can’t even tell you how many times he’d made me cum – I think way more than Dave has in all the time we’ve been going out – and now he was turning me on all over again.

And maybe it was because we were in bed or something, but it felt different, even better, than it had when we were making out and stuff in the living room. And I wasn’t just lying there letting Mr. D do all the work. I was doing stuff to him, too. I tried to touch him the same way he was touching me. I’m not sure I can touch him as lightly as he touches me, but after a while I could feel him shuddering and he’d groan sometimes when I touched him certain places. That thrilled me because it meant I was making him feel really good, just like he was doing to me. It was so wild, I could feel his cock getting hard the minute our bare bodies touched, so I knew he was going to want to fuck me again and I sure as hell wanted that!

After what seemed like a long time, he stopped kissing me on the mouth, but he didn’t stop kissing me. No way! What he did was he started kissing me other places. And of course he kept touching me, too. It was so neat! He kissed my neck and one of my ears. Then he licked my ear and did that ever feel neat! Wow! Pretty soon I was making the same kind of noises he’d been making while I was touching him. I was still trying to touch him, but the way he was kissing me, and where he was kissing me, was getting me so turned on I had a hard time keeping my mind on what I was doing.