The Baby Maker’s Club

“The shower. I can’t possibly let a filthy, filthy girl like you leave this room before being washed thoroughly. By me.”

He sets me down outside the shower and turns on the water. It’s a beautiful marble shower inside and I can’t help but be impressed again by the detail Mosaic put into this clinic. Perhaps if she’d made it a little less plush and like a five star hotel, I’d have an easier time keeping my feelings in check when I’m with Chaucer.

Inside the shower, I adjust to the hot water. Chaucer steps in after me and rubs my shoulders with a soapy washcloth. It feels amazing and I can feel the tension drain from my body. I let myself fall into the fantasy that we’re just a normal couple, enjoying a shower together before we head off to work in the morning.

“Turn around,” Chaucer says.

He spins me and tilts my head back. He uses the handheld showerhead to start wetting my hair, running his fingers through it so it’s completely wet. He squeezes out some shampoo into his palm. The shower fills with the scent of lavender and mint, and when he starts massaging it into my scalp, I can’t help a small moan from escaping my lips. I’ve had my hair washed dozens of times at the salon before, but I’ve never had a man wash my hair. The intimacy is so intense that I feel tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. This is what it feels like for someone to take care of me, I realize.

After he rinses the shampoo from my hair, Chaucer doesn’t place the showerhead back in the wall mount. He takes special care to clean me from head to toe, running the sudsy washcloth all over my body and rinsing after it with the water. My breath hitches as he runs the washcloth up my inner leg, but I’m disappointed when he gets to my inner thigh and switches to the other leg, completely avoiding my pussy. When he washes up my body, he pays extra attention to my breasts until my nipples are hard and pert. I step back into him and can feel his erection digging into my back. He brings his mouth down to my ear, and I feel his hot breath on me as he whispers, “You know you’re still pretty filthy.”

Then sparks flash in my eyes as he points the jet toward my pussy. He holds the showerhead in one hand, and loops his other arm around my waist. My body jerks at the contact, and I can feel Chaucer’s laugh vibrating through his chest against my back. If it weren’t for his arm around me, I wouldn’t be able to stand at all. He angles the water so it makes direct contact with my swollen clit, and I hold still, afraid to move an inch and lose this amazing feeling. It’s a constant, slow building, and I realize I’m holding my breath. But then the feeling is gone, and the hot water streams down my breasts, teasing my nipples. Without thinking, I move my hand down to pick up where the showerhead left off, but Chaucer stops me by grabbing my wrist.

“No, no, no dirty girl. This is my game.”

I let out what only can be described as a whimper, and this seems to please him. As a reward, he aims the showerhead at my pussy again. It’s hitting me in an entirely new spot, and I know I’m going to come any second now. My knees are starting to buckle as I’m hurtling toward my orgasm, and in one swift motion, Chaucer lifts my leg to the shower ledge and enters me from behind, his cock filling up my wet and swollen pussy. The combined feeling of the water vibrating against my clit and Chaucer’s cock easing in out of me brings the world crashing down around me. I feel my pussy clenching around him, and he must too, because he drops the showerhead and grabs my breast, pumping furiously into me.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Chaucer says through gritted teeth. “I could fuck you like this forever.”

He angles himself so he’s hitting me deeper, and his words combined with the tip of his cock rubbing over my G-spot bring on the most powerful orgasm I’ve ever had. I reach out and brace myself on the shower wall as he fucks me faster, his pace becoming erratic and his ragged breaths echoing in the small shower. In just a few more strokes, he’s shooting his hot cum inside me.

Chaucer plants a few appreciative kisses on the back of my neck while we pant and recover in the steamy shower. It feels like time has stopped, and I wish it would. We aren’t a normal couple having a quickie before we go our separate ways to work in the morning. We’re strangers, and this is the last time we’ll see each other for a few weeks. It may be the last time we see each other…ever. Saddness washes over me.