Dreams of 18(61)

With every step that I take, my heart grows bigger. Bigger and bigger until it’s like a balloon in my chest, so swollen that it’s painful to cage it in my ribs.

I reach the bathroom door after what seems like ages. I’m expecting it to be locked but it’s not. In fact, it’s not even closed the whole way. Like he just wanted to get out of my presence as fast as possible and didn’t care about locking doors or where he went.

The steam flows out of the ajar door like water, like something from a dream.

I know a normal, sane girl wouldn’t go in there and intrude on his privacy, but I’m not a normal girl.

I’m not sane either.

I’m crazy for him. Crazy, crazy, crazy.

And in love.

I’m in love with the man on the other side of the door and I’m going in. I push at it with my trembling fingers and it opens without a sound.

As soon as I enter, I’m hit by the misty quality of the air. Everything is foggy and thick and barely visible. Even so, I still make him out.

Just like I thought when I was sixteen, he still looks like the tallest and the broadest thing I’ve ever seen.

So tall that I have to stand on his feet to reach up to his mouth. So broad that when I hug him, I don’t think my arms will meet.

And he’s naked.

Oh God, he’s naked.

He is partially hidden by the shower curtain –stupid shower curtain –so I can only see the back of his body but gosh, do I see it.

His shoulders are corded. So corded. They are like heavy slabs of stone that slope down to his back. The back with all the grooves and the great plains and terrains that the water is sluicing down from.

But that’s not the shocking part.

I’ve seen his bare upper body before, back in Connecticut when he’d work in his yard during the summer. What I haven’t seen ever in my entire life is his… bare ass.

My breath hiccups when I see it. When I see how round it is. How tight and honey-colored like the rest of him. There’s a curve to it that I wanna run my hands over.

And then there are his thighs.

His heavy, powerful thighs, and just the sight of them makes me wanna clench mine. Because they are so muscular and big, dusted with dark, springy hair.

I was right about them.

They are so big that I can easily perch my tiny self on them.

I can straddle my little body over one of his mighty thighs and I can rock against it. I can rock and undulate and rub my needy core against his flesh until I become so wet that I’ll glide. I’ll sail over his limb and his coarse hair will rub against my oh-so-swollen clit and I’ll come.

I’ll cream all over his tree trunk of a limb.

God, I so wanna do that. I so wanna ride his thigh that I’m dying with the need.

I’m so dying with it that I almost miss something important. In fact, it’s the most important thing.

I miss the fact that his hand is holding something. Something big and thick and hard.

Oh my God, his hand is holding his dick.

Although, it’s not a dick, nope.

He was right. It’s a cock. For some reason, dick makes me think of something narrow and something pale and thin.

So unlike this.

So unlike his cock.

Somewhere in the past few seconds I’ve been staring at him, he’s moved and now I can see the front of his body too. I can see his cock.

It’s wide and big and his fingers are wrapped around the base of it. Not only that, they are moving. They are moving up and down and for a second I think, I’ve caught him washing his shaft.

But that’s not true.

I’ve actually caught him masturbating, I think. Because his hand is not moving, it’s pumping. It’s stroking and going up and down so fast that it makes me think that he’s angry at his cock.

Mr. Edwards is mad at his erection and so he’s beating at it and beating at it. And all the muscles on his body are standing taught and beautiful. I can even hear the slick sounds of his frantic movements, which is crazy because the shower is loud.

My breaths are louder. Louder than his hand jerking off his cock.

God, he’s jacking off and I don’t know what to do.

How to simply stand here and not go to him.

I’m salivating for it. My mouth is full of saliva and I’m biting my lip and licking it.

I’m gasping and probably rolling my hips in the air and that’s how he knows I’m here.

He catches me perving over him while I’m making noises.

Yikes.

As soon as his eyes hit me, his face goes from flushed to furious in a split second and he whips around, his shaft hard and pointing toward me. “What… What the… What the fuck?”

I don’t flinch. I don’t act ashamed or afraid.

My shyness as always is a thing of the past when it comes to him.

“Were you thinking about me?”

His expression scrunches up and he snaps at the shower curtain and covers his lower half. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“The door was open.”

“And you thought you could just walk in?”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“You couldn’t have waited until I was done?”

I shrug, watching water rivering down his chest, slicking his dark hair against his flesh. “I could’ve but the thing is, I didn’t want to.”