It Only Took Twenty Years Pt. 03

I relaxed my muscle and sprayed into her hand. It seemed to surprise her as much as she had surprised me because her eyes flew open, and her jaw dropped a split second before it formed a very cheeky smile. She traced a finger to my tip and covered the meatus, partially sealing it. She tortured me in return, and it felt so ridiculously right.

When she knew I was done, she cupped my scrotum, stroked me a few times and yelled at impressive volume, "That was awesome !" and suddenly swam away, diving down to the white plaster, four feet under the surface, toward the ladder.

The four in the corner turned and stared at me. I saluted the group, then I ducked down into the water and swam along the bottom after Dawn. The long, vigorous, fifteen-meter underwater dash made for a more-than-sufficient rinse for our swimwear, and we climbed out of the pool completely unashamed of what we'd just done.

Dawn and I returned to our lounges. She threw me a towel.

"We should leave now," she suggested.

I wholeheartedly agreed and toweled my skin dry, cinching the towel around my waist. She wrapped hers under her shoulders. She grabbed the tote and shoved our t-shirts into it as we slipped on our sandals and made our way back to my condo, tossing the four empty plastic water bottles into the recycling can on the way out the gate. I noticed dark clouds to the west.

Chapter 11: July 21 (Late Afternoon)

The air-conditioned coolness of the condo made Dawn's nipples visibly rigid through her bikini top as soon as we walked through the door. It was the first time I'd seen evidence of them underneath clothing. I slipped one shoulder strap off her arm, allowing a cup to go slack over her breast. I pulled it away and latched onto her like a newborn, a little too vigorously.

"Easy, babe!" she yowled and pulled away.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to hurt you, but I couldn't help myself."

She giggled as she covered her sensitive nipples with her arm.

"They can't take cold and hot at the same time," she informed me. "Can I take a shower to wash off the sunscreen and chlorine?"

"Of course. You know where everything is?"

She nodded and shucked her bikini onto the tiled floor of the kitchen. I took her suit, my trunks, both t-shirts, and after double checking the care tags on her suit, tossed the wet wad into the washing machine.

I walked into the bathroom, peeked into the shower, and asked, "May I join you?"

"What took you so long?" She smiled and beckoned me in. She was sitting on the built-in teakwood bench set into the wall of the walk-in tiled enclosure. The overhead rain showers were turned on along with the steam generator. Comforting heat was filling the space.

"This is an awesome shower. You could probably park a Mini Cooper in here," Dawn observed, soaping her limbs.

She wasn't wrong. I'd never spent too much time thinking about it, but the architects of at least my particular condo unit did seem to have a bizarre fascination with the enormous, door-less area. It had three overhead rain showers plus a conventional adjustable head at each end. Underneath both were sprayer wands. Two mirrors on adjustable arms were situated in the corners. A teak bench wide enough to lounge upon traversed the entire eight-foot length. Shelves and nooks dotted the landscape for whatever one needed. Only two had been occupied with my razor, shave gel, soap, and shampoo. Finally, there was the steam generator which made the space almost sauna-like on demand. I'd used it only a few times because it made the whole bathroom rain when humidity overwhelmed the ventilation fans. It would have been more efficient if the shower had a door.

I fetched my soap from a nook and began to suds up.

"Here. Try this," she said, handing me the bar she was using.

"Why?"

"Smell it," she answered as she scrubbed herself.

"It smells like … nothing."

"Exactly. I'm curious. With all this water going, how long does it stay hot?"

"Forever. It's a tankless hot water system."

"Oh, that's fantastic!"

She started running her soapy fingers through her hair.

"Seriously?" I asked. "No shampoo?"

"Come here."

She re-lathered her hands and ran them through my hair. It felt so good I got gooseflesh.

"Now me?" she asked.

I soaped and drew my fingers through hers, massaging her scalp. She purred. "I wash my hair almost every day. Why does it feel so good when someone else does it?"

"I once had an orgasm in my stylist's chair," I joked.

She burst out laughing.

"My stylist is a dude," I added, straight-faced but exaggerated my Texas accent as I offered the denouement.

Her laughter continued.

We both rinsed under the rainmakers. I assumed that anything that resembled a bar of soap would have been harsh on hair. It wasn't. Hers was silky and shimmered in the water.

"What is that stuff?" I asked.

"It's an almond butter hair and body bar. You like it?"

"Yeah. I kinda do."

"It makes my hair nice and shiny."

She studied me for a few moments.

"Hey. Do you trust me?"

"Implicitly," I answered with my eyes closed as I washed and rinsed my face and behind my ears.

"Please, look at me. Will, do you trust me?"

She knelt beside me. She stroked the cleft of my butt with her hand. I relaxed my legs.

"Devo, of course I⁠—"

Her finger brushed my anus.

"Uh … oh."

"Really?"

A soft moan was all I could manage as she stroked me again with her soapy fingers.

"That feels … interesting." I sighed.

"I want to try what you did to me last night, and I want you to have no reason to worry like I did. Do you understand what I'm saying? I had a bidet in the hotel bathroom."

"Yes. I trust you."

I groaned in unexpected pleasure when she penetrated me with her soapy finger for a few seconds, then withdrew it. She lathered her hand again and smiled reassuringly as she inserted her finger right back where it'd been. My legs went weak. I lowered my knees to the floor and rested my arms on the bench. She situated herself behind me. I enjoyed every minute of what she was doing which surprised the hell out of me. She took her time exploring me, penetrating, stroking, touching, watching my muscle respond in reflex to every stimulus. I sighed, giving my most hidden spot to that creature as she slowly and tenderly entered me.

She rinsed everything with the shower wand and a washcloth before soaping up her hands one more time. She took my rock-hard cock in both hands, washing it thoroughly from root to tip, when I felt her tongue push against my butthole.

"Holy fuck !" I groaned, startled by the pleasure I felt.

Dawn laughed out loud at my surprise and reaction. She stopped her ministrations and washed my entire underside with the soft droplets of the wand.

"That was fun," she said, "but I don't want you getting too excited just yet. It's still early. That's just a preview."

She placed one of the wet beach towels on the floor next to the bench. She positioned herself the same way I had and handed me the bar of soap. "Will, I've never let … I'll tidy myself up if you⁠—"

"Hush," I interrupted as I lathered my hand. "Now I'll ask you. Do you trust me?"

"Yes, baby. More than anyone."

She gasped as I slid my index finger over her butthole. I massaged it tenderly, but deliberately, feeling every subtle fold and crease that disappeared into her bottom. I nudged gently with the tip of my finger.

She sighed.

"Are you ready?" I asked quietly, seeking permission to enter her.

"Yeah."

I continued to stroke and pad her tight seal, noting how the skin transitioned to bright pink just inside her pucker. I stroked that silky rose-colored membrane and penetrated her bottom slowly.

"Ooh ..." she gasped as my first knuckle was encased. "Oh, that feels nice. I … I never imagined."

I remained still for a little while, watching her breathe. We were sharing a rare mutual intimacy between trusting lovers, and it bothered me not one single iota. I repeated my attentions just as she had, then spent a little time gently tracing the sparse, soapy fur around her rim.

I caressed Dawn's labia, cleansing, caressing, and rinsing her. She was so aroused that I had no problem rinsing inside her vagina with my unsoaped fingers aided with the wand. When I sprayed her clit, she squirmed.

"What's the matter?" I cooed at her. "Did that hurt?"

I suspected it didn't, but wanted to be courteous.

"No way. Do it some more."

I handed her the shower wand to do with as she pleased and gently inserted two fingers into her incredibly snug vagina. I used my other hand to gently coax into sight the sensitive pink membranes and licked them with my tongue.

"Don't stop what you're doing. That feels so good."

It took her less than a minute to climax. She squeezed the tip of my tongue until her orgasm waned.

"This may sound weird, but you have the prettiest little butthole I've ever seen."

She laughed through her stupor, "Jeez, William! Just how many have you seen?"

"Up close like this? Just yours," I answered truthfully, helping her to her feet.

"I think I might schedule a wax next week when I get home," she said.

"Don't you dare take off your top hat."

"My what?"

I knelt in front of her and soaped up her bush.

"I admit I wouldn't mind if you were bare from here down," I said as I traced a line just above her slit, "but don't get rid of the hair here. It's so beautiful."

"Hmm. Maybe you …" she stopped.

"What?"

"Would you like to shave⁠—"

The entire building shook.

"What the⁠—"

"Was that thunder?" Dawn asked, head cocked, listening intently.

I shut off all of the various water sources and stepped through the opening, grabbing two dry towels. I handed one to Dawn and then went to look out the west-facing bedroom window.

"We've got weather coming," I commented.

I looked at the clock. It was barely past 5:30, but it looked like night was falling.

"Nice! I'm in the mood for some rain. I'd better get dinner started in case the power gets knocked out. Are all the windows covered?"

"Pretty sure they are, why?"

"Just asking," she answered.

She finished drying off, pulled her wet hair into a loose bundle, cinched it with a clip, then squeezed the full length of the bundle with her towel.

I went back to the bedroom and put on lounge-worthy clothes. I expected Dawn to not be far behind, but instead I found her in the kitchen where she'd already removed the rice cooker from the pantry. I watched as she measured two cups of jasmine brown rice into a bowl. She placed it in the kitchen sink and let water pour over it, rinsing the rice while she collected several other ingredients. She occasionally returned to the sink to give the rice some vigorous agitation. She caught me watching her and froze what she was doing.

"What?" she asked.

"Um, are you going to put on clothes?"

"In a minute. I want to get this started. Brown rice takes a long time to cook."

She returned to her work, and I was mesmerized. I withdrew a chair from the dining table and parked in a good viewing position. I enjoyed watching the athletically fit little pixie work. I was entranced by how her muscles coordinated her graceful figure while doing what would ordinarily be perceived as mundane.

She decanted the rice's starchy water down the drain and deposited the mass into the cooker's bowl. She added a cup of water and a cup of broth. She closed the lid and examined the buttons before plugging it in and setting the controls. She turned and gave me a double-thumbs-up victory sign.

"What?!" she said again, reacting to my expression.

"You are the sexiest, most beautiful little critter I've ever seen. Really, you are just quite simply stunning. I'm guessing it's safe to confess something to you?"

She nodded with a curious expression.

"Even fully dressed, you've always been gorgeous. Totally naked, you are seriously impressive. You have an astounding form. I love how toned you are. Come here."

My compliments made her blush as she strode over to me and straddled my legs.

"Show off your tummy," I requested.

She arched backward slightly and tightened her muscles.

"Mercy ," I whimpered.

I traced my thumbs across the subtle indentions made by her abdominals, marveling at their contours. She wasn't a steroid-induced, ripped wad of muscle, but she was deliciously sculpted. I realized that, if confronted, she could probably beat the crap out of any man that wronged her. It was alluring as all hell.

With delight, she took several steps back and struck several poses which highlighted her conditioning. Her sleek calves, thighs, and incredibly shapely buttocks could have been sculpted in marble, and it'd never approach the same beauty. Even her back and shoulders had beautiful lines. Her body was phenomenally fit and well-formed.

"Two years of Cross Fit, baby!" she hollered in delight of my wandering eyes. "I'll go get dressed now."

Two years of training did that ? I'd been going to the gym for fifteen years and was barely her equal.

She came back to the kitchen wearing very comfy-looking flannel shorts and another of my t-shirts which bore the words "Extecha: Committed to our Dallas/Fort Worth communities since 1974."

"Would you open the wine?" she asked.

I uncorked the bottle and slowly poured it into a simple glass decanter to give it breath. I placed it in the fridge to very slightly chill it.

We spent the next half hour prepping the remaining ingredients for our dinner.

She prepared a chop of this, a mince of that. Carrots, broccoli, a small can of water chestnuts she found at the back of the pantry, plus a few other things from the veggie drawer formed the foundation. The shrimp were washed and resting in a bath of iced water.

I tuned into the six o'clock news to check on the weather after a thunderclap rattled the windows.

"Sounds like home out there," Dawn said as she sidled up next to me and watched with an arm around my waist.

A severe thunderstorm warning for Fayette and layers of the surrounding counties was depicted on the onscreen map. The primary threats were flash flooding, hail, and high winds. Yep, just like Dallas, only without a tornado watch.

"Did you park in a covered spot?" I asked.

"No. I assumed those were reserved. Should I go move?"

"You're right, they are. But I've got connections. Can I have your keys?" I asked as I went to fetch my flip-flops.

She tossed me her key fob. I ran out to the lot and quickly found her car by double-tapping a button to make it honk its horn. I moved her rental under the covered spot reserved for my neighbor's condo. He was out for two weeks, and I was keeping an eye on his place and fetching his mail, so there was no issue with occupying it. The sky gushed as I sprinted back the short distance towards my door.

"Nice job, champ!" she clapped. "You're my hero!"

She wrapped her arms around me and gave me a kiss.

"Jeepers! You're soaked!"

I removed my wet clothes as Dawn handed me a dry towel.

"Please tell me we're in for the night?"

Dawn smiled. "I hope so."

I dressed for what felt like the fourth or fifth time that day. I put on another pair of shorts and a dry t-shirt. I grabbed the wet towels from the bathroom and plopped them into the washer along with the rain-soaked stuff, and, after confirming with Dawn that her swimwear could be laundered and wouldn't stain the load orange, started the machine. I turned the temperature on the thermostat up two degrees because I was a bit chilled after running in from the rain.

"You cold? Come here," she beckoned.

She held me to her warm body and cupped my butt in her hands. We lounged close together on the couch watching the remainder of the news and then started a King of the Hill rerun until the timer on the rice cooker beeped.

"Yay! Food!" Dawn sang.

As fit and trim as Dawn was, it tickled me how, twice in a row, she verbally delighted at the thought of dinner.

"This will take just a few minutes to finish," she said.

She lit the largest gas burner on the cook-top and placed the small wok there. She drizzled sesame oil in its center. When the faintest wisps of smoke appeared, she added the raw vegetables and tossed them expertly with quick flips of her wrist. She let them fry for a couple of minutes. Pushing the par-fried veggies to the outside slopes of the wok, she poured a measure of broth into the wok's center. It quickly steamed, and she added the raw shrimp into the hissing pan.

"Can you get some plates? Oh! And mix up some hot mustard," she said with a gesture toward the tin of powdered fire on the counter.

She worked quickly yet effortlessly. The kitchen smelled beyond fantastic.

She then did something unexpected. She seasoned the whole arrangement with a tablespoon of sugar, tossing the goodies until it began to caramelize the veggies and shrimp. She dosed everything with a healthy splash from a bottle of my Single Barrel Jack then set the wok ablaze before turning off the burner. A blue crown of flame adorned the wok. I watched, amazed.

My senses were heightened. What she'd prepared was nothing like my thoughts imagined. She finished the meal with a few squirts of sriracha and tossed everything in the burgundy-brown colored glaze. My stomach growled.

"Chow time!" she sang as I poured two goblets of wine.

Onto each plate she placed a portion of the jasmine brown rice and a scoop of the goodies from the still-sizzling wok. She drizzled each plate with a fine wavy line of the bourbon-enhanced glaze.

"Holy cow. It looks phenomenal. What do you call it?"

"I don't know. Shrimp stir-fry, I guess. I was making it up as I went along."

I brought our plates and glasses to the table. The rain outside was picking up. I could hear it on the metal roof and against the windows as we sat. The sound encouraged my appetite.

"Wow. Even your plating and presentation are appetizing. You could have been a chef."

"Before I settled on computer sciences, I considered going to culinary school in Denver. I love to experiment in the kitchen. But do you think I'd have made the living I've made doing this?" She pointed at a shrimp.

"Yeah, you've got a point there. And we would have never met." I sighed noisily as the savory heat penetrated my taste buds. "This is absolutely perfect . Just the right amount of spice."

"Oh, this is incredible, if I do say so myself," she said with her mouth full of veggies and rice. "Can you taste the whiskey?"

I bit the end off a shrimp and focused on its flavor. "Yeah, I think so. Maybe just a hint. Is that where the slightly smokey flavor comes from?"

She smiled and nodded as she chewed.

We spent the next twenty minutes jibber-jabbering, enjoying the scrumptious meal, and listening to the storm outside.

"I should stop now. Don't want to be too full," she said, her plate barely half-finished.

She'd finished barely half her plate.

"You wanna browse for a movie while I clean up dinner?" I asked, offering her a light blanket and a seat on the comfy sofa.

I brought up the Plex app on the smart TV. It cataloged twenty terabytes of NAS storage in the other room. The NAS contained almost two thousand Blu Ray and DVD rips while the actual disks were safely stashed in a storage unit back in Dallas.

As I put away the leftovers and loaded the dishes into the dishwasher, she paged through the listings. "The Martian ? You said you'd never seen it!"

"Yeah. I lied. And it was worth it," I replied from the kitchen. I heard her laugh.

"Dr. No ?" she hollered. "That's a great movie! Jeez, we're old."