“Scare it away, maybe? Just don’t kill it.”
“Don’t kill it? How do you expect me to get it out of here? What do you want me to do, punch it in the kidney until I knock the thing out cold?”
“I don’t know, Chris! But I’m not getting out of this shower when that thing is just staring at me.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll try to hurt it just a little. One sec.”
“Chris!” she said, trying to hold me back by my shoulder.
I opened the door, then stuck my head out. The little monster tip-taped around to face me. I glanced at the counter and spotted a bottle of hairspray. I made a wet, sloshing leap for it. My shoes, which were soaked, slipped and sent me crashing into the counter. I spun at the last minute, grabbed the hairspray, and unloaded a long shot at the little bastard.
It flinched away from the barrage and scuttled to a corner of the room. I dropped the bottle and let myself back into the shower.
As much as I wanted to be a gentleman, my eyes may have betrayed me a little and caught a glimpse of Belle’s body as I came in. She was covering herself with one arm across her chest and another between her legs, but it was enough. Fighting a spider with all the extra blood diverted to my cock was probably not making for the best use of brain power.
“What did you do? I couldn’t see through the glass.”
“I tried to kill it with hairspray.”
“Did it work?”
“No. But its hair looks amazing now.”
Belle laughed. “What kind of spider was it? Did you get a good look?”
“Oh, yeah. We really spent a lot of time together. I got to know him. The guy seems nice. I think he’s a web designer.”
I could feel Belle glaring at my back. “I really want to look and see your face right now, but I’m trying to be a gentleman.”
She didn’t say anything for a few seconds. “What if I don’t want you to be a gentleman? Just this once.”
I had to replay what she just said a few times to make sure I’d heard her right. “I want to clarify before I do something I can’t un-do. You don’t mean you want me to lay my coat over puddles or something, right?”
Belle put her hand on my shoulder and turned me around to face her. Her hair was wet and pressed back, and her body was dotted with little beads of water and rivulets that ran down her curves.
“Yeah,” I said, practically feasting on the sight of her. “I have to admit this was exactly what I thought was going to happen when you sent that text.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. But I’ve also imagined every encounter we’ve had since the airplane leading to this. So I’m like one for fifty.”
She gripped the front of my soaked belt and tugged me toward her, kissing me.
There were several sarcastic “dad” level jokes bouncing around my head in the moments before our lips met. Most of them went to their graves without ever earning the eyerolls they deserved, though, because I didn’t want to fuck things up.
Shower sex, in my expert opinion, was highly over-rated. So I lifted her by her spectacular ass, got two firm handfuls, and then backed us out of the water.
“The spider!” Belle stopped kissing me to try to hold onto the shower frame.
“I won’t let him get you.”
“You could barely look at him a few seconds ago, now you’re not scared?”
“If I didn’t seem scared, would you have let me in the shower with you?” I paused, clearing my throat. “Probably shouldn’t have admitted that, huh?”
“If you promise to stop talking, I’ll pretend I didn’t hear it.”
“Great. Let’s go to your bed.”
“Your clothes are soaked! At least take them off before we ruin my carpets.”
I did as I was told, because the golden rule of naked women was that you did exactly what was needed to keep them naked. It wasn’t a time for debates or compromises.
I awkwardly shuffled us back into the shower and set her down. I was still fully clothed, so I started peeling away my clinging clothes. Belle appeared eager to jump in, grabbing my belt and yanking it free.
I had to have myself a little moment as the water pattered against the growing pile of clothes at my feet as Belle in every bit of her glorious nudity crouched down and freed my cock, which was comically hard already.
Painters and artists since the beginning of history had tried to capture beauty and the meaning of life. But I could’ve saved them the trouble if they just asked. The most beautiful thing in the world was a horny woman who wanted nothing more than to devour your cock. Then again, what if they’d known all this time but just couldn’t get the churches for go for stained glass windows featuring endless scenes of medieval fellatio?
Questions to ponder another time, Chris.
I did make one amendment to my thought, though. It couldn’t just be any woman. This particular woman seemed to bring the natural beauty of cock-mongering to another level. Maybe it was because I knew she was probably going to start the desperate and doomed process of denying any of this ever happened as soon as we were done. By tomorrow, she’d be acting like she could live without doing this again.
It was okay. She could play her side of the game and I’d happily enjoy my side, especially if it was sprinkled with moments like this.
“Why are you smiling? Did I do something wrong?” Belle had her hand around the base of my cock. She was inspecting it like you might survey an obstacle course before taking your first step.
“I was wondering what was going through your head. You look scared of it.”
She gave me an adorable little smile. “Can I be honest about something?”
I thought about it. Personally, I wasn’t a gigantic fan of the idea of taking a break to talk. After all, unless she had a hidden talent for ventriloquy, that meant I’d need to wait longer for her lips to be around my shaft. But I nodded, because even with as much as I wanted to dive into this moment, I found myself worrying about what came next, too.
Strange. I wasn’t usually the type to care about the longevity of a relationship, if that’s what Belle and I even had at this point.
“Go ahead,” I said softly. “Speak your mind into the microphone. I’m listening.”
Belle looked at my cock, which was pointed at her mouth while she gripped it just like a microphone. She snorted, then tapped its swollen head a few times and cleared her throat. “I have a confession.”
“Sexy. Okay.”
“This isn’t the sexy kind. It’s the embarrassing kind.” She took a deep breath, which had the enjoyable side effect of drawing my eyes to her breasts—large, natural, water-dappled, and absolutely perfect, for the record.
“Okay,” she said. “I kind of concocted this whole thing to make this happen. I feel too bad not to admit that before anything possibly goes farther.”
“Possibly? We’re so far past possibly that you’d need to tell me you’re some kind of extra-terrestrial dick-eating creature inside that body. Even then I’m not sure I’d have the self-control to stop.”
She smiled crookedly. “Don’t be so sure. I’m not actually scared of spiders. That one is actually my pet, Leg-olas.”