Like many of the men I have hooked up with, I met Clay on a dating app. We matched and started chatting almost a year ago. He’s 23 and is a flight instructor, which means he has a pilot’s license. I’m not the only one who thinks that’s hot, right? I was immediately drawn to him. His gentle personality and witty sense of humor pulled me in even more. His curly brown hair wasn’t also necessary to win my affection, but there it was as well.
In the time since we matched, we’ve only actually hooked up three times. The first time was at his house. An old colonial-style home in a nice neighborhood overlooking the city. It was many months ago but I remember having to tiptoe up the stairs because his parents were sleeping. He occupied the third floor, which was basically just one big room, most likely an attic originally. I remember him telling me we’d have to keep quiet, and it made me nervous because I tend to be a bit…. loud in bed. We put on a movie but didn’t watch much before turning to kiss each other. That first time felt so sweet and tender.
The second time was at my house. It had been another few months of texting. He works really hard, probably over 50 hours a week, so it’s difficult to find time to hang out. It’s the sole reason we’ve only hooked up three times in almost a year. That’s how poorly our schedules work together. But eventually the stars aligned for us. My parents went out of town the same weekend that Clay had some free time. He came over and we did the whole Netflix-and-chill thing. He’s seriously such a sweet guy. This probably isn’t what you thought you were going to read when you clicked on this story, but he made me feel at ease when I told him I was nervous about him seeing certain wounds and scars on my body. I felt (and still feel) so safe with him.
Another couple of months later, I got a text from him saying that he had his house to himself for the night. We figured out a time I could come over. When I arrived, we walked up the stairs to the second floor, but instead of going further up, he led us through a bedroom and into a large bathroom.
I knew what was going to happen. He had mentioned the existence of an amazing shower a few times in the past. It had always been a plan to eventually shower in it together.
“Wanna strip?” he asked, looking at me with excitement.
“Hell yeah,” I replied, and began unbuttoning my jeans, pulling them off my legs, and kicking them across the floor, then getting rid of my t-shirt and bralette as well.
I was genuinely excited. I’d never had shower sex before. And my hair was quite dirty, so it was perfect timing if I’m being honest.
He opened the glass shower door for me and I entered. The shower was a room if its own. There was a wooden bench, and multiple shower heads. I was just in awe, looking at everything, and then I heard a beep. I turned around and he had pressed a button on the wall. Steam started coming from hidden vents. Hot water poured from the shower heads. Within thirty seconds, the shower was so full of steam that I could only see two feet in front of me. Luckily, Clay was in that view.
We stood facing each other underneath the water. His hands were on my hips. Our foreheads were pressed together. Water was stinging my eyes but I didn’t care. He started kissing me. His hands moved to the small of my back, then down to my ass, where he squeezed, pulling my body closer to his. I found myself grinding my pelvis against his without even meaning to. He took one of his hands off my ass and brought it in between us. He reached down and gently put his fingertips on my pussy. While still kissing me, his fingers moved up and down the slit of my pussy, getting me wet. My body was still moving in some sort of rhythm. I sighed into his mouth with satisfaction before forcing myself to break our kiss.
“Body wash?” I asked. He reached behind me and pulled a bottle from the ledge.
“You do me, and I’ll do you?” he asked as he handed me the bottle.
I poured some into my hand and began rubbing it all over his back, turning it into suds. I ran my fingers down his spine, around his shoulder blades, and then massaged his neck and shoulders a bit. Then I turned him around and worked the suds over his chest. He’s slender, not muscular, but fit. I could see the definition in his torso and upper arms. My hands glided slowly around his upper body until he moved, reaching to grab the soap bottle again.
He spun me around so that he was standing behind me. Then I could feel his hands on my back, firmly massaging the citrus body wash into my skin. His hands traveled to my shoulders, down my arms, and then around to the front of my body. With his body pressed against my back, and his cock against my ass, Clay worked the soap around my breasts, softly squeezing. I started to grind against him, then turned my head around to kiss him. After a long and passionate kiss we dove under the stream of hot water and rinsed ourselves off.
Once our bodies were rid of suds, I moved closer to him again. I positioned myself so our foreheads were touching again, and I could see his facial expressions as I put my hand around his dick. I stroked it up and down while maintaining a pretty tight grip. The way he breathed while our faces were almost touching showed me that he was enjoying this.
“How do you want to fuck me?” I asked in a whisper.
He removed his face from in front of mine and looked around the steam-filled shower. There was a wooden bench with some product bottles on it. He stepped towards it, bent down, and shoved all the bottles to the floor.
“Bend over it,” he commanded, pointing at the bench.
“Yes, sir.”
I strode to the bench with a smirk on my face, which I knew he couldn’t see through the thick steam. I bent over the wet wood (lol, the bench’s, not Clay’s!) and set my elbows down to support myself. He pressed himself against my ass, slapped his dick on my vulva, and slowly entered me. I moaned from the feeling of his cock sliding in and filling me up with its girth. He began thrusting at a slow pace, but soon enough he was fucking me hard and fast. I reached under myself to rub my clit.
“Fuck, babe, that feels incredible!” I barely managed to exclaim.
“Yeah?” he said as he pulled my hair.
The only way I could properly respond was by letting out the moans which I normally hold in. The loud, embarrassing ones. This made him fuck me harder and harder, pulling my hair so tight that my head was tilted pretty far back, until he muttered that he was close to cumming. I felt his thrusts remain just as forceful but with more time in between each one. He pounded into me hard, then remained still for a second, then pulled out and rammed himself in again; repeat. Eventually he thrust himself inside of me but stayed inside longer, eventually pulling out for the final time. I could feel the cum already seeping out of my throbbing pussy.
We finished our shower the practical way by washing our faces and hair. Afterwards, once we were wrapped in towels, we went up to his third-floor bedroom, laid on the bed, and watched The Grand Budapest Hotel. (I fucking love Wes Anderson and Jude Law.) Eventually I left because I had to work the next morning.
That’s all for now. Hopefully Clay and I will have more fun adventures that I can write about in the future. Hope you guys enjoy, and if you haven’t read my previous stories I highly encourage you to do so!
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/af1kks/fm_fucked_from_behind_in_a_steam_shower
Did you cum as well
Gotta love shower sex