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His dick was pressed up in his briefs, flat against his body, but I could see the outline of him and it looked like the head was threatening to peek out of the waistband.
“I’m not afraid of you, Mandy,” he said. “And you shouldn’t be afraid of me.”
I could practically feel myself nodding, urging him on, as he pulled his waistband over the head of his cock and slid his briefs off his body. His dick bobbed a couple of times as gravity tried to suck him off the way I had only minutes before.
Get your own dick, Mother Nature! This one’s mine.
“I’m not afraid of you,” I said.
And I wasn’t. Not anymore. The fear seemed to have run out with my pussy juices and soaked into my panties. Panties that needed to come off. I held the table with one hand, because I’m definitely not smooth enough to pull off the Wesley shuffle, slid off my shoes. My panties came down next. I was proud when they slid down my legs and I was able to kick them off easily.
“I want you to wash me first,” Wesley said, “So you feel more comfortable.”
“Okay.”
That was all I could think to say. My mind was numb and it wasn’t the alcohol anymore. My thoughts were frozen, like I’d been powdered with some strange sort of magic dust that made me think only of sex.
“This is how we do it,” he said as he walked over to the counter next to the bed and opened a box that looked kind of like a large Saran wrap dispenser.
He pulled a long, plastic cover out of it, almost like you’d wear on your head at a beauty salon. Then he tucked the fitted ends around the two corners at one end of the table and asked me to do the same on the other side. We now had a clean, fresh tabletop.
He pulled open one of the drawers on the counter. I couldn’t see what was inside from where I was standing, but I couldn’t wait to find out. Then he handed me a brass gun-like thing with a hose running from it over to the sink. He turned on the sink faucet.
“You’ll find the tools you need in that drawer, and the water is already on and waiting for you. Look in the basket beneath the table for anything else you might need.”
He climbed onto the bed and lay back, his cock more than halfway hard, threatening to slump over onto his thigh.
My God. I’m standing in a room with a ridiculously hot man who has handed me all the tools I need to have my way with him. This is the stuff dreams are made of.
I didn’t know where to begin. How do you start a body wash? It should be simple but until you’re in that position, you don’t understand how perplexing it can be. I mean, do you start at his toes? Do you go straight for the cock? Do you scrub down his chest? I didn’t expect to feel so stupid, so inadequate? I felt like I needed a manual or something. I’d had shower sex plenty of times, but this was so different.
“This will be more erotic with the lights off,” he said, “And maybe with some music playing.”
He was right. It was way too fucking bright in the room and the fact that he could see all my silly expressions as I lathered him up made me a bit shy.
“The switches are on the wall,” he added. “One turns off the lights. One turns on the candles. One turns on the music,” he said.
I draped my water nozzle over the basket below the bed and walked over to the switches. I turned off the first one, plunging us into darkness. I considered feeling my way through this experiment but was afraid I’d trip and break my neck. So I flipped on the second one. It was magical. Candles lit up from places I hadn’t realized there were any. The light was soft, keeping the room mostly in shadows. Then I turned on the third switch.
Gregorian chants. Sadness by Enigma.
Seriously? Of all the songs to choose from.
“Wow, you’re really keeping with this ‘90s reunion theme, aren’t you?” I joked.
He laughed.
“Purely coincidence.”
“Right.”
It was finally time to get to work. I walked back to Wesley, picked up the hose, and shot it at him. I didn’t mean to blast him in the face. It was supposed to come out soft and shower-like, but instead it was more like I was welcoming him on his first day in prison.
“Shit!” he yelled.
“I’m so sorry,” I said between giggles. “That was not sexy.”
“Definitely not.”
