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Or is she so unaware that she forgot to close the door? As the steam starts to rise up, an uncontrollable urge in me puts me on my feet and drags me up to the frame of the door, to fully take in the sight of her, and the flowery scent beaming off her. With her back to me, she peers at me through the mirror then looks away and keeps showering normally. We stay like this for several minutes. The blood in me surges to my penis, while the layers of soap build up on her perfect skin, and she’s using only her hands to slowly apply layer after layer, standing outside the stream of water. She suddenly turns around, leans her back into the corner, and stares straight at me, biting her lip. She’s rubbing her hands across her stomach, first as if she’s scrubbing herself, then she transcends into an erotic motion, moving her hands along her inner thighs, down to her knees then back up to her breasts. Each time she moves her hands down, they rub closer to her vulva, until she leaves one hand. She had been dragging him to higher and higher peaks ever since. He had spent four months in an almost constant state of amazed gratitude that she was still interested in him. He knew it couldn’t last, but he was enjoying the hell out of it while it did.Late in July, she had kissed him ... over and over. He had almost spurted in his pants and was horrified by his boners, which she ignored, even though each time he got one it stuck out like a sore thumb. He knew she was aware of them, but she never said or did anything about it. He was still embarrassed by them, but not nearly as much, any more.In August, she took him skinny dipping, at night, in the pond on her farm. She had kissed him then too ... naked ... in the water. Nothing else had happened. Nothing else needed to happen. He had found perfection. He was the perfect gentleman, both because that was just part of his value system, and because he didn’t want to do anything that was “too far” or “too fast” or might risk the.
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