“There’s no way we’re getting dry,” I tell him, because we’re both still wet, our clothes are soaked, and our hair is dripping, and the towels are basically useless at this point.
“Wow,” he deadpans. “Way to ignore my desperate plea for sex.”
I laugh, wrapping my arms around him. “I’m not ignoring your needs. I promise. I’m just saying that since we’re both wet, maybe we should hop in the shower?”
Will perks up. “Shower sex? I’m in.”
“I still think we should hold off on the sex. Especially because shower sex can be trickier than you think. But shower shenanigans? I’m all for that.”
* * *
I stepunder the steamy spray and right into Will’s waiting arms. He holds me close and kisses me as we soak up the water’s warmth. Pressing his naked body close to mine, he smiles. “Ok, shower shenanigans definitely have benefits.”
“Just you wait,” I tell him, reaching for the soap. “There’s more to come.” Lathering up my hands, I run them over his body. Taking the cue, he does the same for me. For a few moments, we’re just lost in the feel of each other and it’s wonderful. But I told Will there was more to come, and I meant that literally.
His body is gorgeous—his abs, his arms, his ass. But there is one part that might soon become my favorite. I drop to my knees and take his thick cock in my hands. Will mutters a curse and braces himself against the wall.
I lick my lips, ready to devour him, but when he puts his hand on my shoulder and says, “Wait,” I freeze.
“You’re supposed to go first, right? That’s one of the rules, isn’t it?”
“Technically, the rule is,Always put your partner first. And if you want a literal interpretation, well, that’s what I’m doing, right?”
“Listen, I’m not complaining, but—”
“Will, you fingered me this morning, and I came so hard that I’m fifty percent certain there’s gonna be a noise complaint in my mailbox. When was the last time you had a blow job?”
“Uh…never.”
“Right. So, you definitely get to go first. Besides, I’ve been wanting to put this thick cock in my mouth for weeks now,” I tell him.
“By all means,” he tells me, “don’t let me stop you.”
I smile up at him before gripping his base with my left hand, bracing on the wall with my right, and sucking his dick like it’s better than my favorite ice cream. And honestly, he tastes so good. I suck and swirl as he moans and his thighs shake. At this rate, I’m on my way to another noise complaint, but I don’t care.
Will threads his hands in my hair and it flips a switch inside me. To see him like this—totally in the moment, not self-conscious at all, totally surrendering himself to what’s happening between us—turns me on. It makes me feel invincible, powerful.
“Jesus Christ, Mel. Your mouth was made for my body.”
I increase my tempo, sucking my cheeks in and taking him as far as I can. His body trembles and when he throws his head back and curses, I know he’s close. A tap on my shoulder lets me know I can pull off, but I don’t want to, so I take him deep once more and linger there. He cries out again as his orgasm hits, and I swallow every drop down.
God, that felt incredible. It takes me a moment to recover. Will reaches out his hand and helps me steady myself. The shower’s gone cold, so he turns the handles and wraps me in a fluffy towel. When we step onto the bath mat, he kneels in front of me, helps me dry off, and slathers my favorite lotion on me. This is my idea of heaven.
When he’s satisfied we’re both dry enough, he scoops me up and lays me on the bed. Seconds later, he joins me.
I can still hear the rain against the window, but I don’t mind. As long as we’re stuck in here, we’re going to have a really, really good time.
34
Will
I’m sitting in Econ, waiting for class to begin, but my mind is not on last week’s homework or even next week’s test. Nope, there’s a reel playing in my head and it has nothing to do with numbers or margins or dividends. It’s Mel Cohen laid out naked before me, wet and needy and wanting. I could survive on memories of our last few weeks together for the next decade, but fortunately for me, I don’t have to.
We’ve got games Friday and Saturday, then we’re volunteering at the Fall Fest thing the community center is having. Mel says she’s just helping out because it’s the right thing to do, but I think she likes it there a lot more than she ever thought she would. And I’m pretty sure that her practicum only requires her to intern during the week—so all these extra hours are optional. But it’s fine by me. I get to spend the day and night as Mel’s boyfriend, so I’m not complaining.
I’ve spent a lot of my time—like an embarrassing amount—imagining what sex would be like. And also an embarrassing amount of time fantasizing about sex with Mel. But none of my wildest fantasies have ever come close to the reality of lying in bed with her, our bodies entwined. And we haven’t even gotten to the main event yet. Damn, that might just kill me.
The lecture hall starts to fill up, so I open my laptop and cue up the notes I started earlier this week. The door toward the front opens, but Dr. Mitchell doesn’t emerge. Instead, it’s another guy with white hair and a beard. He looks considerably younger than Dr. Mitchell, though. My Econ professor has to be pushing eighty and closely resembles Santa Claus. This new guy? He’s way skinnier and has that distinguished air that some guys get when their hair goes white.
