It was Ashley who finally broke the silence. “Oh my god I just thought of something. Do you live alone?”
I had to consciously remember; all thought required conscious effort now. “Uh, yeah,” and I actually smiled at the unfortunate and somewhat comedic implications if I hadn’t.
“Oh, thank God. House or apartment?”
Again, thankfully, “House.”
“Okay.” At least she was demonstrating a little bit of wisdom, even if it was after the fact.
My contemplation was interrupted by her hands on my manhood, pulling uncomfortably, trying to remove the cock ring. I held my breath as she moved quickly. Her inexperience and urgency caused me to jump in pain a few times, but the whole episode lasted less than thirty seconds, and I was immediately relieved.
She dropped the ring on the center console, then gently stroked the tip of my spear, apparently recovering a small amount of fresh fluid. In my periphery, I observed her bringing the finger to her mouth before sucking it gently. She then looked at me thoughtfully, and maneuvered over the console to take my limp manhood gently into her mouth.
My God, she’s insatiable.
I moaned softly as she slowly massaged me inside her mouth. I wasn’t getting harder, and I knew I wasn’t going to, but I thought that she probably also knew, and that her purpose was not to stimulate me. She was caressing me with her tongue, her lips. She sucked gently, then licked the outside with careful and evenly distributed strokes, kissing it here and there, and taking me back in to suckle me lightly. She was making love to my sex with her mouth. I didn’t think I could have imagined anything so erotic before in my life. She bathed it, cared for it, worshipped it even, and I was in awe.
She continued like this as we drove, and didn’t stop until we’d reached my driveway.
When we came to a stop, and I said, “We’re here,” She slowly and reluctantly withdrew from my loins, and allowed me to shift the car into Park. I just looked at her in amazement, and she at me. I just let myself adore her, now. Her hair was a mess and her makeup was smeared every which way, her eyeliner now long drips mixed with sweat on her cheeks. She was beautiful, and I adored her.
She broke the spell. “Shall we go inside?” I just nodded in agreement, and we both turned to open our doors. My rented home was outside of town proper. I did have neighbors, but not a real neighborhood, and there was more than ample space between the homes. The border of my property was lined with evergreens, so unless someone was making an effort to see (which no-one was), I was afforded a modicum of privacy for my walk to my front door.
Ashley met me at the front of the car, her little black purse in hand. I took her free one, and lazily led her up the walk to the house. I unlocked the door and opened it, then stepped aside to allow her entry first.
She said, “Thank you,” and stepped inside, and I followed right behind her.
Once inside, I closed the door, locked it, and flipped the light switch that controlled a nearby electric socket, and the room was illuminated in the soft ambient light of my floor lamp. I looked at the clock on the wall: 5:08. I’d made it. I’d survived. I felt something break in my mind, but I didn’t know what, exactly, it was, and I was too tired to care.
Ashley slowly explored my modest home. I had a pretty simple lifestyle. “Streamlined,” I liked to call it. My home wasn’t bare, but just simply furnished. While almost everything had a practical purpose, I’d taken care and time to select functional objects of unique or beautiful appearance. My home had character and peace, which was important to me when I sought refuge from the hectic and polluted outside world.
Ashley returned from the bathroom to inform me that I had no bathtub, almost as if she’d expected me to be unaware of the fact. Instead, I had an elongated shower, with the shower head at one end and small seats protruding from both. It was perfect for me. Sometimes, I liked to just sit under the hot spray, as if to rest as the water washed the difficulties of my complicated contemporary life away. More peace.
Ashley, however frowned at this, and I couldn’t understand why. Suddenly, I realized that she’d intended to take a bath, and I was dissatisfied with my peaceful shower for the first time.
She saw my face reveal my disappointment, and spoke quickly to assuage me. “It’s totally okay,” reaching out to take my hand. “Come with me.” She led me out of the entry way, and I deposited my keys in their customary position on the bureau. She led me slowly to the bathroom, where she released my hand and turned the hot water of the shower on.
She began to disrobe, removing her boots, and placed them neatly under the basin. Then her socks, tucking them into her boots. She reached down and pulled her dress over her head in one swift motion, and I again admired her grace as she place the dress atop her boots.
She then hooked each of her thumbs between the ropes of her thong and her hips, and fluidly slid it down, removing her feet from it one at a time. She brought it up in her open hand, and we looked at it together. “God,” she whispered, and I smiled. It was completely soiled, utterly unclean. Then we looked at each other, and she joined me in my smile. This, she dropped next to her boots before turning to me.
She checked the temperature of the shower, made an adjustment, checked it again, made one more adjustment, and reached her hand into the spray to be certain. Once satisfied, she took my hands, one in each of hers, and gently guided me into the shower, to step in after me.
She positioned me under the shower head, facing away from her, and caressed my back as the water flowed around me. I just stood there with my palms in front of me against the side of the stall. I felt her hands leave me for a few minutes, but I did not move. A few moments later, her hands returned with my bar of soap, and she began washing me.
She washed my body meticulously from the top down, leaving no spot untouched. She massaged my muscles as she went. When she had finished the top half, she sat on the seat in front of me to finish the bottom. As she was taking special care washing my manhood, a book cover flashed through my mind: Zen and the Art of Genitalia Cleansing. I laughed inwardly.
When she had finished my feet, she stood, and I expected her to guide me under the water to rinse. Instead, she told me to kneel, and I complied as my heart quickened. She guided my head downward, and removed my ponytail from its band. She found my shampoo, applied a good amount to my head before setting the bottle down, and then began to massage the stuff into my hair as I stared blankly at the floor of the stall. Her hands on my head were hypnotic. She gently worked her fingers through the lengths of long, brown hair.
“Your hair is too long,” she remarked, but I was too tired to care.
She finished, and without raising me guided my head back into the spray, keeping me on my knees. She rinsed the foam from my head gently but diligently, ensuring that no soap remained.