Shower Fittings

The steam caressed Michelle's caramel flesh like wafting rose-scented clouds, rising and dissipating into the white of the ceiling. Warm water pelted her chest, tempting her nipples to pique in readiness for Sterling's touch. He stepped into the shower all man, his muscular abs gleaming even before the water kissed their perfect contours.

Her drenched nakedness called his cock to arms, ready for the war games, the friendly fire. Extending her hand in peace, she pulled him to her until her tits met his hard front. She kissed his chest, his neck, his full lips under the welcome assault of the shower like falling rain. All the while, she pumped his cock. She could never bring herself to tug him hard like he asked for. How could that feel good? No, her style was gentle all the way, slow and steady like Aesop always said.

Sterling grabbed her ass and squeezed. When he drew breath to speak, she knew what to expect. He'd noticed the effects of the cardio classes at the gym and the jogging three times a week. Tough some mornings, getting up at six, but the results were well worth the effort.

"Hard to believe this thing's one hundred percent fiberglass," he said.

Pardon me?

Pulling away to look her husband in the cool-casual eye, Michelle asked, "Baby, what'd you just call me?"

Without hearing her—or at least, without responding directly to her question—Sterling fondled the shower wall. "It's all one piece. Isn't that incredible? The tub, the wall, all the way up to the ceiling, it's just one big molded sheet of fiberglass."

Michelle rolled her eyes, not entirely amused, but not entirely put off. She circled her arms around him. "Honey-cake, while you're going on and on about the shower, you are one hundred percent forgetting about the woman in the shower." She planted kisses across his chest. "Naked in the shower." Kissing up his neck to nibble at his ear, she teased, "You got your precious shower fittings, now how about fitting your precious wife with that big 'ol cock, hmm?"

Sterling growled as she swiped his cockhead across her belly. Felt good, but the sensation would be better with suds.

As she reached for the soap, Michelle's heel backed into an invisible pool of dried shampoo from the nearly-empty upside-down bottle on the tub's ledge. She started to slip. She reached for the wall, but of course that was no help. The wall was solid and smooth. As she lost her balance, slipping backwards, Sterling tightened his grip around her waist and pulled her to his chest.

It happened so fast she didn't even get a chance to shriek in terror, but it was enough to set her straight. Clinging to her husband's firm black body, she cried, "I knew it. What did I tell you? I knew it. Didn't I say?"

"You're okay," he consoled, like she was a child fallen from a bicycle. "I've got you in my arms. You're okay."

"I am most certainly not okay," she said, releasing him to loosen the pool of dried shampoo with her big toe. Picking up the upside-down bottle, she squeezed its contents into her palm before replacing it, right-side-up, on the tub ledge. She forced the jasmine-scented shampoo into her hair. "All our marriage, you want one thing. You want to do me in the shower. I've done everything—everything—else there is to do because, let's face it, I'm no prude. Still, all I hear from you is shower, shower, shower. I don't want to do it in the shower, Sterling. I don't feel safe. I could fall asleep and break my neck. Still, all I hear..."

"You're worried you might fall asleep in the shower?" Sterling interrupted. A tentative grin broke like a rainbow across his lips.

Had she misspoken? Yes she had. She could laugh it off and kiss his lips, then his cock...and wind up smashing her head open on the faucet? No way. No mercy at times like these. "Fall and slip, I said. Not fall asleep. You'd better clean those big ears when you're done with that big..."

Her gaze fell to the danger zone. She couldn't resist her husband's cock, any time, any place. The temptation was right there, close enough to touch. But no. Not safe.

"Hey, what'd my big ears ever do to you?" he chuckled, running his hands down her backside.

His hard body exerted such a pull on her. "Hmm? What'd you say?"

"Maybe you ought to clean your ears out too, girl." He laughed, tracing a soapy palm along his shaft. He knew she would watch if he did. Of course she would watch. That bad boy was spectacular. "You seem a little...distracted?"

"Hmm?" she repeated. He stroked it root to tip, letting his cockhead fall from his fingers just as the other hand prepared to catch it. A sly grin bled across his lips as he watched her watching him.

Without so much as rinsing her hair, Michelle grabbed hold of Sterling's cock. When she pushed the shower curtain aside, he followed her to the bedroom. Her husband was like a dog so happy for its walk it overlooks the leash it's on.

"Girl, you must be hungry for it. You didn't even turn the water off!" he chuckled. She'd fallen so deep into lust that economic and environmental concerns escaped her.

"Oh," she replied, almost like she might do something about that. She didn't. Instead, she pushed his dripping-wet body down on the ottoman that used to match the dark green velvet chair. Now the chair was gone and the ottoman didn't match anything, but they still found use for it.

He sat, leaning back, hands gripping the ottoman. His cock pointed to Michelle like a dowsing rod. I found the juice, it said. Mighty wet down there. Refresh yourself in that water, man. It's all for you.

With shampoo dripping down her shoulders, Michelle climbed on board. She straddled her man—one knee on the ottoman, one foot on the floor—and heaved her body down on him. She wasn't heavy, but he sure knew she was there. Her cunt was all around him, soaking and stroking his cock. When she moved on him, he moved in her. As she bounced and heaved, her tits swung before him like caramel temptations.

Holding the small of her back, Sterling curled toward her chest. She rose like an angel and fell like a demon. When he took her tits in his mouth and sucked those finest of nipples, she sighed his name. She proclaimed that she loved him...or she loved that... She loved something, anyway, and something's better than nothing.

As Sterling sucked, she bounced faster, gearing up for the explosion that was soon to come. She could feel it right down to her toes. That big cock did it for her every time. Working her tits was a nice touch—showed the man cared—but Michelle knew she could come with no more encouragement than his cock in her pussy and the sound of their wet thighs slapping.

He came before she did. She could see it in the magical contortions of his face, the way his lips twitched and his eyes rolled back in his head like he was having some kind of seizure. She wasn't far behind. She was sure she looked like a million bucks when she had her orgasm. Of course, she never dared to glance at the mirror when the time to come came, just in case she was wrong. Sometimes it was pleasanter living the lie.

Lifting her from the ottoman, cock in cunt, Sterling carried Michelle into the bathroom. She chuckled and called him crazy as he leaned her head under the running water to wash out her shampoo.

"Reach over slowly and close the taps," he said.

She looked up at him like he had three heads. "You have got to be kidding me. I can't do that. I'll crack my skull."

"Trust me. I've got you," he whispered in that voice like dark velvet. "Anyway, it's just fiberglass. You might bump your head, but you're not going to crack anything."

"Very reassuring," she replied, pushing her voice flat. The taps really weren't that far away. She reached out and shut them off quick as a bunny. Something bubbled inside her, and she looked up at Sterling in amazement. "I did it!"

"See?" he said, pulling her to his chest. She grabbed a towel as he carried her from the bathroom to the bedroom and tossed her onto the satin coverlet. She bounced against the mattress and chuckled in adoration. He kissed her legs. Crawling up her body, he said, "Nothing to be afraid of, except that you'll like it too much."

Wrapping the towel around her wet hair, she laughed like it was unfathomable she'd ever enjoy shower sex. But he was right. She might like it. She might love it. If she tried.

"It's not that I don't want to, honey-cake," she began. He crawled up to her chest, resting his cheek on her breast and his body next to hers. "You know what I'm like. I want everything."

"I know you do," he chimed in with a deep chuckle.

"And it's not to spite you, though I know it may look that way."

"I know it's not."

"The simple cause is I'm afraid of getting hurt. That's it," she went on, trying to convince herself.

"I believe you," he began. Cautiously, he admitted, "I didn't at first. That's why I got that rusted-out old turquoise tub replaced by the new one. I figured you didn't appreciate the surroundings."

"Surroundings don't trouble me," she teased. Stretching her hands above her head, she flexed her feet. "I never seemed to mind getting it on in that rusted-out old turquoise car you used to have."

He wouldn't let her get the better of him. Pinching her sides, he replied, "I never had any rusted-out turquoise car and you know it."

"Oh," she taunted, pinching him back. "Well, then, who am I thinking of?" She laughed, giving away the ruse. He chuckled right along with her until exhaustion overtook him.

As his dark lids curled closed, she saw in him the twenty-two year old she'd met in college. Though it wasn't long ago, it seemed like a different era altogether. They'd been so polite with each other in the beginning—almost to the point of formality at times—like belles and beaux of the regency period. Not that a man and woman with their skin tones would have been wearing suits and gowns or courting at debutant balls back then. Maybe that was the appeal. They wanted what their ancestors couldn't have.

She would have done anything for him back then. He would have done anything for her too, but he would still do anything for her, so nothing had changed there. One evening, long before they were married, they were chatting each other up on the phone. Sterling mentioned having a hankering for a certain brand of potato chips. Well, the second they hung up that phone, didn't she head right out to buy him a packet? Not just that, but hand-deliver it right to his door? She did indeed. A kind man deserved his just reward.

Now she took him for granted, she realized. Every morning, he'd be there beside her as she woke up. Every night he'd be there too. She could count on all that, so why bother working for it?

Why bother?

What kind of lazy cow had she become in only six years of marriage? A kind man deserved his reward, as much now as ever. And was Sterling a kind man? Sure he was. If she was planning on spending her whole marriage in a lethargic rut, she might as well give up on it right this minute.

"There is one shower that might be suited to your purpose," Michelle said.

Stirring, he rolled his head from her breast to the mattress. He'd been close to snoring. "What was that you said, babygirl?"

"You remember in the spring a whole bunch of us girls went up to Sarah's summer house for the weekend?"

He ran a large hands across his face. "Who do we know called Sarah?"

"White girl from the gym?" Michelle jogged his memory. "Won all that money in a settlement? Right away bought that big house on The Path and a summer house by the lake? Remember?"

"Oh yeah, Settlement Sarah," Sterling chuckled. Picking up his wife's hand, he kissed her wrist. "Why didn't you say so?"

Michelle chuckled too, shaking her head. "Anyway, doesn't so much matter who she is. What's more important is the shower she's got at that summer house." Smiling wide, she flipped to her side and slithered down the bed until she and Sterling were face to face. She rubbed the towel against her hair one last time before tossing it on the sopping wet ottoman. "I think you'd like that shower. Big time."

Kissing her pink lips, Sterling put on his coyest tone. "And why would I like it so much?"

"Because," she replied, returning the kiss. "It's the one shower I can think of where we could get it on without me being afraid of breaking my neck."

Circling an arm around his wife's waist, he growled, "I like the sound of that. But what's so special about her shower?"

"We'll go there," Michelle offered, sitting up in a hurry. "I'll show you."

Sterling shook his head. "It's all pie in the sky unless Settlement Sarah loans you the keys."

"No need," she cheered, beaming like a kid with an ice cream. "Keys are in the hollow turtle." She pulled open the top dresser drawer, and took out a nice lacy pair of undies and the matching bra. "Sarah's in Costa Rica. No end to that settlement money. I'm sure she won't mind if we make it a day trip. Better that someone gets some use out of the place."

Climbing out of bed to collect the wet towel from the ottoman, Sterling said, "You can't just invite yourself to somebody's summer house while she's out of the country. Where are your manners, girl?"

"Oh, so you're my daddy now, are you?" she laughed, throwing on a summer dress. Handing him a clean polo shirt, shorts, and underwear, she went on, "Well then, Daddy Sterling, how's about taking me up to that summer house for a romp in the shower?"

He considered her through smiling eyes before agreeing. Outwardly, he came off as reluctant, but that was just to show Michelle this wasn't the sort of thing he considered right and good. She knew very well that inwardly, he was dancing.

* * * *

The summer house looked familiar, somehow. Michelle must have showed him pictures from her girls' weekend. Or maybe it simply epitomized all that was luxury in a contemporary lake house. It was situated on a small inlet overlooking a lake that mirrored the trees on shore.

But they hadn't driven all the way to the Kawarthas for the scenery.

"Bathroom's this way," Michelle said, setting the latchkey down on the hall table.

Sterling followed her up the stairs. "In my day, a cabin was a shack. You were lucky to have some place to escape to in the hot months, and luckier still if that place had bedrooms. Just look at my parents' old summer escape."

"Yeah, one big room with a curtain separating the sleeping area from the kitchen," she chuckled.

"And back when my grandparents bought it, all those cabins up there were the same way. They were the first black..."

"I know, I know." Michelle smirked. "First black family on the whole lake."

"I guess you've heard all my stories now," Sterling sighed, throwing his arms around her. From behind, he grabbed her breasts and gave them a good squeeze.

"About a million times, I'd say."

Releasing her tits, he gave her a smack on the ass to lead on. "I still say all this luxury is overkill. We've got luxuries in the city. I come out to the woods, to the lake, to commune with nature."

When Michelle opened the door to the master bedroom, his jaw dropped. Floor to ceiling windows. There was hardly anywhere you could look without seeing the vast lake with its reflected trees like an upside-down Group of Seven painting.

"What were you saying?" Michelle teased, leading him into the lavish bathroom. "Luxury is overkill?"

The space was large. Large enough to fit the regular fixtures, plus a whirlpool tub, plus the most spectacular shower he'd ever laid eyes on. The shower door was glass. The floor and two of the four walls were made entirely of river rock. The remaining wall opposite the door was even more glass, looking out at the lake. The glass was frosted up to shoulder level so lonely boaters out on the water wouldn't get too excited each time Settlement Sarah took a shower.

Sterling counted five heads in total. The one hanging from the ceiling looked big enough to bathe an elephant. The other four were mounted on the river rock, two on each wall, and each of those fixtures had openings for four jets spraying in different directions.

Michelle was already down to her black lace skivvies when he looked over at her in amazement. Stepping through the glass shower door, she unhooked her bra and walked out of her panties. Naked and eager, she turned the sleek stainless steel handle to initiate a downpour. When she pressed the button next to it, all sixteen jets gushed with warm water. The steam was building up around the edges of the glass door already.

"What are you waiting for, mister?" she called, motioning for him to join her.

It struck him that Michelle had never seemed more elated than she did in that moment. That would soon change. Tearing off every bit of clothing, he jumped into the shower. The hard rocks felt soft against his heels. The warm water and Michelle's willing hands massaged his skin. Her lips were full, hot, ready to open up to him as she sank to her knees on the riverbed floor.

Jet streams pelted his chest from every direction as a rain shower fell on him from above. Michelle grasped his solid thighs. Her fingernails dug into his flesh. She took his cock in her mouth, sputtering and spewing the water that coursed down his body. As incredible as it felt to have her lips close around his cockhead, to thrust slowly in her mouth, to pick up the pace and drive his cock past that warm wet tongue in measured beats, he didn't want her drowning down there.

"Get up, girl," he growled, grabbing under her arms to lift her up and away from his cock. She ravaged him with kisses, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist.

Sterling was a strong man. He had strong arms and strong thighs, and found no trouble keeping her suspended in mid-air. His thirsty cock still knew where to find her. Despite the water streaming from walls and ceiling, it knew the wettest place of all was between her legs. Better still, it knew how to get there. It surged forward, storming her cunt.

"Holy Christ!" she cried into his ear. She clung tight to his neck like she was afraid he'd let her fall.

"You're safe," he consoled. "I've got you."

She gasped when he leaned her away from him, and dug her nails into his flesh. He flinched at the sensation, but held her safe as ever. "I've got you," he repeated, holding her at arm's length. Her ankles were entwined behind his back. "I won't let you fall, Michelle. Do you trust me?"

She seemed to search his eyes for the answer to his question. How could she not trust him? They were close. Everything was good between them. But, if she did trust him, why couldn't she say so?

"You know I do," she said at last, still clinging to his shoulders.

"Good," he replied with a resolute nod. He would process the delay in her response at a more appropriate time. "Then relax, sugar. Just relax."

She turned to putty in his arms. "I'm relaxed, baby. I'm ready."

Holding her close, cock to cunt, he thrust his hips and she moaned like a woman overcome. Pressing her ankle against his gluts, she pushed her pelvis toward his. Her cunt enveloped him, and her every movement milked his cock and encouraged him to pump. He was so deep inside she cried out in that unique exclamation of pleasure that says, Don't you dare stop now!

He thrust upwards, bending his knees and leaping cock-first into her pussy. Her body bounced away from him, her ass landing against his muscular thighs with a wet smack. Water splashed everywhere—to the sides, across their chests, even leapt up into their mouths. Their sex reminded Sterling of an amusement park ride. It was thrilling almost to the point of being frightening, but always retained a touch of the absurd.

Water from their slapping middles jumped up to land in his eye, and suddenly he realized how worn out his arms had become. Obeying the command of his body, he said, "Time to put you down." It wasn't worth the risk of dropping her.