Washing Away My Temper
05 July 2007
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When I left the salon today, my fury with the stylist knew no bounds. She always second-guessed my preferences. There was never anything to be done for it than to argue with her each time I went, and swearing to myself I would find someone else. Today the result was particularly hideous. My only option was to shampoo and start all over and pray that the shower would help drain the anger and frustration from my body.
Turning on the water, I began to take off my clothes. After a few moments I realized what the best thing for me would be - a gi-normous orgasm! That was when I began the little trick that always made me hot. It started with me imagining what it would feel like if my pussy could "breathe" -- flexing my muscles inside and out as if I were inhaling and exhaling from my sex. Each respiration was like the spasm when my nipples were touched or my hair was pulled or my pussy was stroked. As the water warmed up, I stood there naked and began to touch myself. The "breathing" movements were palpable and my clit was firm, buried in its soft nest.
The water had been warm for a while so I stepped in the shower and let the comfort of it sluice over me. And then the last remnants of the afternoon dissolved when the products in my hair melted. I resumed "breathing," touching myself, letting the relaxing water soak my face, neck, shoulders, down my chest and over my breasts, running like a downspout over my nipples. The feeling was incredible, especially when the deluge pounded directly on my breasts. I adjusted the flow to a very sharp, needle-fine spray; pricking and nibbling against my pink peaks. The water pins almost hurt until I grasped my entire nipple and squeezed firmly ... removing the sting and replacing it with a tremendous pull at my core, elongating my bud, which stood prouder and deeper in color.
Next, I lathered a cloth and began to wash the outer areas of my pussy right along the panty line, a quarter of the way down the inside of my thighs and then around to my hips and cheeks. Everything was wonderfully soapy, soft and very lush-feeling. . . almost luxurious. Taking opposite corners of the washcloth, I stretched it and began to run it forwards and backwards from the top of my slit, all the way up between my ass cheeks. So erotic! Nothing went untouched. Back and forth in long, languorous strokes, I played the cloth like a bow across violin strings. Other times I held it firm and glided my body along the taut cloth. Often, the timing or pressure points of these long, sling-like strokes needed adjusting depending on where I wanted the most stimulation. I could cum this way -- but not today.
I moved my right foot to the rest I used when I shaved my legs, allowing me to open farther. Pressure could now be placed on one side of my clit and then on the other as the cloth stroked its long journey around and between my legs. My hips started to move against what I was doing for myself. I was very close to cumming, so I stopped, pulled the cloth slowly out from between my legs, and drew it across my clit in one, long slow final stroke. The heat and tension built and rapidly escalated to towering sensations. Beginning in, around and beneath my clit, the shocks began to flicker. My breathing froze to concentrate on the feelings -- but today I brought myself to the edge and stopped!
