Heat of the Moment, Part 2 of 2

You barely remember to breathe.

Sensing my pleasure, you begin to move — slow, measured strokes, taking me in deeper, then retreating, letting yourself breathe before plunging forward again. One hand caresses my stomach, trailing along the ridges of muscle damp with water, while the other moves lower, cupping my balls, tracing backwards, sliding around to my ass, pulling me closer.

The sensation is almost too much — I feel like I could come immediately, overwhelmed by the sight of you kneeling before me, the heat of your mouth and the intensity of the moment. For a jarring second, I remember where we are which begets another wave of excitement from the layer of danger underpinning our act.

I steady myself, gripping the tiled wall, determined to make this last.

But from the warmth of your mouth, the warm water down my back, and your hands in all my favourite places — it’s clear what you want me to do, and I am not going to be able to stop.

I have one hand on the back of your head, not pushing but guiding, following your natural motion as you shift back and forth along the shaft. Your tongue rolls around the tip as it passes, each flick and swirl sending shocks of pleasure through me.

I am clenching and flexing, moving to climax, my breath coming harder, louder and less controlled. You are in rhythm, and my hips take the cue, pushing back and forth gently to compensate, to match the slow, wet, deliberate movements of your mouth.

I don’t know when you started, but you are touching yourself while you kneel, fingers working between your legs as you pleasure me. The sight fills me with overwhelming pleasure, and gratitude that you are doing this — not just for me and my pleasure, but for yours as well.

Sensing that I am near, I want to give you a cue, to give you the chance to show me the green light. I take hold of my cock, and you respond by parting your lips expectantly. Your eyes meet mine, filled with desire, mixed with some nerves but mostly excitement, the sheer thrill of it all written across your face.

Your mouth is open as I stroke myself, my tip flicking against your lips and your tongue. The sensation is purely overwhelming. Your hand is on my butt, gripping firmly, and you feel it clench as I explode into your mouth, onto your tongue.

It is hot and wet, and you feel my cock still pulsing with pleasure in your hand as you squeeze every last drop from me, milking out every bit of release as the water continues to cascade around us. I can barely stand as my whole body tenses and then relaxes, my head spins from the temperatures and the steam, and I just want to bring you close to me.

I had wanted to be inside you so badly as well.

Despite coming, I am still enraptured by your naked body and your pleasure in my explosion. I pull you over to me under the water and kiss you under it (you have tastefully disposed of my come down the drain) but I can taste it on you and feel the pleasure you get from it. We are both still under the water and melting together in the warmth and pleasure.

You pivot and press your bum into me, playing the little spoon, and i run my hands over your breasts, clenching on your nipples and letting the warm water trail between your cleavage, straight down to your vulva and your clit, where I place my hand over yours. You guide my hand where to go and we rub together in a slow exploration of where this could yet go.

By now we have completely disregarded that we are in a public place, and that — theoretically — anyone could be around, listening or even watching. we take no notice, for we are on an unstoppable path of motion. Within no time we are rubbing furiously in tandem, and the warm water combines with our movement to create a pure, warm wave of satisfaction between your legs.

Your hand moves in tight, desperate circles over your clit, and I press a finger inside you, feeling you tremble against me. You’re gripping me, your body drawing me deeper with each movement. I ease a second finger in, feeling the resistance, and the way you shudder against my chest sends a rush of need straight through me.

I fall into rhythm with you, my fingers pushing in and out, curling slightly to meet the pulse of your pleasure. Our bodies rock together, friction and pressure building with every breath, and synchronised with our movements I slide a third finger into you, keeping it there as we continue our rhythm.

Time disintegrates. I can’t tell if you climax after 10 minutes or 30 seconds. For that time we are locked in mutual touching and feeling, consumed by the sensation, with no barriers to how you and I are smashing together. The outside world ceases to exist, the gym, the risk, the possibility of being heard — it all melts away. We might as well be on another planet, in a solar system all to our own. Even if someone heard us, or saw us, they would they would have no choice but to bear silent witness to our achievement of perfection.

When you break — your body clenches around my fingers, every muscle trembling, rigid against me. I am almost holding you off the ground, the way your thighs lock, trapping my hand as you pulse around me in waves, your orgasm tearing through you in shuddering, breathless gasps. I hold you through it, feeling the aftershocks ripple against my fingers, gripping me in desperate, rhythmic contractions. I’m barely breathing, caught between awe and hunger, letting out sounds I don’t even recognise.

For a moment, we are so loud that it returns an echo off the tiled walls. The realisation crashes over us, jolting us back to the present. But neither of us move away. Completely spent, we sink into each other, letting the water run over our bodies, supporting each other as our hearts pound in unison.

We turn off the water, the sudden quiet bringing us back to the moment. Steam rises in lazy swirls, clinging to our skin as we settle onto the wooden seat, our bodies warm, sated, and heavy with exhaustion.

You lean into me, your damp hair sticking to my shoulder, and I press a slow, lingering kiss to your forehead.

The end x