God, what does her pussy look like? How does she moan? When’s the last time she’s let someone play with her pussy? When’s the last time someone’s pleased her so much she lost her voice from screaming?
In the shower, I jacked my cock. It swelled larger in my hands. Grunting, I sped up, gliding those fingers up and down the long length.
How do those big breasts look under that sweater?
I imagined them big, perky breasts. Darker areolas. Stiff little nipples. My head fogged with more sensual images. With all the breasts I’d seen in these years at the Titty Palace, how could I go insane in the shower, trying to draw hers in my mind?
What about her pussy?
No pubic hair or a bush? It didn’t matter. Hair or not, I dreamed about separating her wet folds. My body throbbed with the thought.
I leaned against the shower’s moist wall, slipping my back along the tiles and loving the texture, needing something to touch me. Grasping the shaft of my cock, I wished I could rub the head against Ebony’s tight anus.
Pre-cum beaded at the mushroomed tip. I smeared it down, mixing it with the body wash, taking in the erotic sensations.
Ebony would be so tight.
And in my head, I entered her again, pushing deeper, filling her up.
You deserve it all. You need to come. Feel pleasure.
Ebony twisted and stirred under me. It felt so real. I could almost touch her. I came close to raising my hand and trying.
Groaning, I thrust into my fisted soapy hand. My heart boomed in my ears. My cock swelled and pulsed as I pumped.
“Fuck!” I yelled into the shower.
Cum spurted from the tip. It had been so long. I trembled against the wall, rocking my hips fast, fucking my hand, jacking my cock off.
“Fuck.” I bit my lip, riding ecstasy.
My orgasm consumed me. My balls stirred and constricted. My lower back stiffened.
“Fuck,” I murmured again.
Warm pleasure exploded at the top of head and then expanded and prickled all the way down to my toes.
Groaning, I opened my eyes.
Semen shot out in long, liquid strings. It splattered all over the shower tiles. It spilled and streamed down my hands.
I grunted and pumped once more, unable to admit it was the end.
Panting, I remained leaning against the wall.
Damn it.
I let go of my cock. It fell and dangled down my thigh. I tried to catch my breath and shut those imagined images of Ebony in the nude.
Calm down. It’s over.
That had been intense. More of an orgasm than ever before. More of a self-pleasuring session. Less robotic. Less mechanic. More satisfying. More therapeutic.
Usually, it was a fake woman. No name. No story. No passion. Just tits and ass. Wet pussy and a body with no warmth. Usually, it was quick. Usually, I had my breath. And there was no heart booming and streams of cum or trembling all the way down to my bones.
If this was due to her, I can’t do that again. The shit could be addicting.
I would spend all day in this shower, jacking myself off. Even worse, I’d spend all week, trying to get into her pants.
The old Yoshiro would return. Young Yo-yo. Womanizer. Sweet words and a hard cock.
What the fuck came over me?
I gave myself a minute, before rising from the wall. Another minute passed; the blood finally rushed to my head. One more moment went by, when my breathing and heart went steady.
I’ll jack off again, but. . .it won’t be Ebony.
It felt disrespectful in some way. We’d shook hands as friends. She’d needed help. Beautiful as hell, still there would be no time for my cock deep inside of her. She had kids to watch over and a husband to run from.
It was just one time. That’s it.
With both hands, I rubbed my face and completely came back to reality. Next, I sprayed the tiles and cleaned off all the sperm, getting rid of the evidence of my horny mind.
I left the shower, grabbed a towel, and wrapped it around my waist.
That session had been a shock to me. The urgency. The full on erection that came just from touching her hand.
I didn’t suspect there would be more problems after that. Surely, I’d calmed the monster.
But damn that felt so good. Why haven’t I been jacking off more? What the hell happened to me?
For these past years, I’d painted more than touched my cock. I’d ran around the property with the dogs more than I’d gotten hard.
And with Ebony’s presence in the household—soft, warm, and inviting—a new man had risen within me.
And it’s barely been twenty-four hours. Good for my body or bad, I have to get control of myself.
Toweled off, I left the bathroom. Salt and Pepa were passed out on the floor near my bed. They’d made no sound and looked close to dead. The kids had tired them out.