Bursting at the Seams

The hot water is pounding down against my shoulders and back as I peel away from the kiss. Our eyes lock ever so briefly before I sink down to my knees. The water pelts his body and washes away the soap by the time I reach his dick. Looking up at him, I take the tip in my mouth. Even though I’ve never been a massive fan of eye contact, it’s turning me on to watch his reactions as I gradually take more of him into my mouth. My lips cover my teeth and my tongue glides side to side as I slowly bob my head. I never take more than a mouthful of him.

He grips the back of my head to try and urge me to take more of him, but I ignore it. My tongue and head move glacially. Emanuel starts groaning. “Come on,” he mutters, clutching strands of my wet hair. I start moaning on purpose, wanting the vibrations to add to the experience. I watch as his body shudders at the feeling and his breathing becomes even more labored. When I still don’t pick up the pace or go deeper, he finally moans, “Please. You’re killing me, angel.”

With that, I remove myself completely and stand back up. He looks at me up and down before pinning me to the wall. Emanuel attacks my mouth with his own before trailing down to my neck. He picks me up, wrapping my legs around his waist. Without hesitation, he plows into me. The shower becomes a symphony of moans, breathing, kissing, and softly whispered fucks. His movements are fast and rough, and I want nothing less. The feeling of our slippery, wet skin only adds to the eroticism of it all.

I have to clutch his shoulders as my body mounts toward an orgasm. He’s whispering for me to cum, and it’s so fucking hot. I should stubbornly do anything to hold it back, to not give into his sexual demands. But my body greedily complies. My hips grind into his as I go through wave after wave of pure pleasure. Emanuel’s movements slow as well, his firm and muscular form flexing from the force of his own climax.

I’m lowered to the ground and we catch our breath as we study one another. “What the hell are we doing?” I whisper over the roar of the water.

“We’re doing what feels right,” he responds. I don’t think I could have thought of a better answer. We rinse off and get out of the shower. He hands me a towel as I look around. It’s a lovely townhouse. While the fixtures are modern, there’s something historic and charming about the place as well. The crown-molding, the high ceilings, the hardwood floors that have a good amount of character to them.

Not wanting to put back on my sweaty clothes, Emanuel opts to lending me a pair of leggings that he says are Hanna’s, and one of his sweatshirts. He puts on another pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. When he turns to me, I feel a little awkward. Should I go home now? Should I try and stay? It doesn’t feel right. There’s too much that’s happened between us that I don’t understand and need clarity on before I can make any sort of decision that I feel confident in.

“Can we talk?” I ask him rather shyly. It’s silly to feel so bashful after having sex, isn’t it? We’ve explored practically every square inch of one another at this point, and yet I feel reticent.

“About?” he asks before gesturing for me to follow him. We walk into a lovely kitchen; the walls are pale blue and the appliances and cabinets pearl white. Emanuel pours us each a glass of water.

I take a few long sips first, even more dehydrated than before. Once I set the glass down, I take a calming breath before locking eyes with him. “About what happened today. About what changed and—”

He’s shaking his head. “It won’t do any good.”

“It won’t?” I ask, arching a brow. “I mean, I feel like it’s needed after—”

Emanuel cuts me off again by resting two hands on my shoulders. “I’m sorry for what I said today. It’s been a rough day and I took it out on you only because I wasn’t willing to face my emotions. Now would you like to stay here and hash out every awkward detail, or would you like to go out with me?”

“Go out?” I repeat, blinking at him.

He shrugs. “I think what we both need more than a tense and awkward talk, is a night of fun. What do you say?”

Part of my mind wants to tell him no, that we need to talk things out for me to consider being around him. And yet, the other part is somehow dominant. As though I’m under a spell, I nod and reply, “Okay. I would love that.”