Mostly I was befuddled, but there was a residual core of resentment.Mostly I was befuddled, but there was a residual core of resentment. I kept myself covered until he gave me shampoo and I had to use my hands to wash my hair. With the glass door shut, the shower enclo- sure became like a steam bath: it was almost hard to breathe. He told me to wash him, but really we washed each other. Then we put on the same all-purpose unscented hair/body conditioner I had used before. You're going to think I own stock in the company. It's great stuff, though. We kissed under the shower with the water, soap, and condi- tioner running between us, and I could feel him hard against me. I began to melt a bit myself, but that THING was still uppermost in my mind. I wasn't going to forgive him. My eyes stayed on the key around his neck. I wanted it out of me. He edged me away from the showerhead and began spreading condi- tioner over the front of my body. All over, even around the device in me. Having him feel me there when I was like that was degrading. Embarrassing. And exciting. My heart began to race, partly from the excitement, partly from the stifling steam. I felt almost faint. He turned me around and I leaned with my hands against the tile wall with my legs spread as though I was being searched by a policeman. He covered my back and legs with the conditioner. Then he went to work on me from both sides, like he had before with the talcum powder. His left hand on my hairless and still- violated front, the other explor- ing every millimeter of my rear, slipping under the chain, closer and closer, teasing. |