Part 2

I stepped into the bathroom, closing the door slowly behind me. I peered around that various furnishings that adorned the small room, my eyes fixating on the shower. Tension, stress, all of the various assaults upon my senses of daily life accumulated in my mind like dirt, and much like the dirt on my body, could only be washed away by a nice hot shower. Yes, the mental cleansing and the physical cleansing were different processes, but they were not so different that they could not both be accomplished in the same place. The warm water, the steam, the sweet floral fragrances of my shower gel and my shampoo, all of these served to distract my tired mind for a moment, to rejuvenate it, to restore it back to clarity, much like those very things served to refresh my worn, tired body. Still, I desired even more clarity for my mind, and in that, my desires were very clear as I removed my clothes, piling them neatly in the corner, and stepped into the shower. I wanted not just a gradual washing away of my stress, but a forceful explosion that would push it all away. I needed to touch myself. I needed to pleasure myself to an explosive release which would leave me feeling refreshed, clear, and relaxed. In the shower, I turned on the water, waiting for it to reach the proper temperature. After doing so, I placed my hand into the stream of water, and finding it to my satisfaction, stepped in, letting the warm water kiss my nude form. A bit of a sigh escaped me, and I looked down at the first droplets of water splashing onto my pert, small breasts. I turned, facing into the water stream now, letting the water strike the front of my body fully, the droplets first multiplying and then utterly disappearing as a film of water now coated my body. I sighed softly to myself, sliding a hand up my sides, my fingers tickling my stomach. My hand stopped beneath my breasts, which I cupped lightly, holding them up into the stream of water, watching the water trickle down their smooth surfaces, watching the little beads of water form on my nipples. My hands slid upward, now gripping my small breasts in them, kneading them slightly, the fingernails of my index fingers dancing lightly across my nipples. I squeezed my tender flesh, while my fingernails flicked across the most tender part thereof. After a few moments of this, with a sigh of delight escaping from my mouth, my nipples rapidly swelling and hardening in response to my manipulations. I am not sure what this quality is, and if asked to explain it, I could not, but there is definitely something different between nipples hard due to temperature or other external factors, and those which have swelled with lust and desire. Mine were, in the feel of their supple flesh, most certainly of the second sort. My fingers made little circles around my hardened nipples, the nail occasionally digging ever so slightly in, sending a chill of desire up my spine. By this time, I had turned around again, facing away from the stream of hot water, which now caressed my back. My back arched a bit, my lower body thrusting outward, and with this, my hands slid back down my sides, across my stomach once more, and gripped my hips. It was as though I picked myself up and carried myself up out of the stream of water, walking towards the back of the shower, where no water flowed. Back here, I turned to face outward, picking up the bar of soap from its little holder, and starting to slide it all around my wet body. The soap lathered and bubbled as it glided over every curve and contour of my nude form, leaving a foamy white trail behind it. Up my left arm, down my left arm it went. Up and down my legs. Between them, for but a moment. Up my left side, and down my right. I kneaded my breasts with even greater enthusiasm than before, working up a foamy lather which bubbled and started to drip towards my stomach, which I also rubbed, covering it too with soapy white bubbles. My body was now slick from the soaping, so I was able to glide my hands effortlessly all over, exploring myself, touching almost everywhere at least once. Eventually, though, my hands settled between my legs, making first teasing little passes over myself, delivering but a teasing rub, but each one became more intense, more determined, and more pleasurable. I dropped down to the floor of the shower, lying down upon it, my legs pulled upward, and spread. By this, I could sit partially up, and look down my body, between my legs. I did this, and saw my wandering hands, my fingers gliding teasingly across the entrance to the chamber where I kept my most secret desires. My right hand curled around my leg, approaching from underneath, and after one last teasing stroke across the entrance, pulling me open but never quite putting anything in, my long, thin middle finger plunged deep into me. I gasped as I filled myself with my finger, feeling my own tight hole. I squirmed slightly as I felt around inside of myself with it, exploring. I paused for a moment like this, taking pleasure in this moment not so much because of the sexual pleasure it brought me, but for the sense of truly getting to know myself that I derived from it, feeling every curve and contour inside just as I had felt them outside, before. My left hand stayed on the surface, first kneading my right breast softly, then gliding across my soapy stomach, and then finally brushing across my swelling, hardening flower. I gasped again as the locus of my desires was stimulated, and the blast of desire that rose forth from it was enough to prompt my finger to begin a slow, rhythmic motion in and out of myself. I sprawled out further, and pulled my legs closer to me, in order to spread them wider, and thrust my lower body forward even more, enabling me to thrust my curious middle finger even deeper into my waiting body. I did exactly that, plunging it in and then pulling it out, repeating this over and over again at an ever-increasing pace, pumping my right middle excitedly in and out of myself while my left hand danced across my excited flower. I began to squirm, and emitted another soft gasp, but I strived to keep my breathing somewhat consistent. The frantic motions of my finger ceased only momentarily, only long enough for me to gently ease the index finger of the same hand into my tight, warm space, so now two fingers were deep within me. My gentle caresses across my flower became more ardent and rapid as I filled myself up with two fingers just as quickly and eagerly as I had done with one. In and out slid my fingers, while my other hand moved in fervent little circles over my swollen, needy bud. My body tensed and released, pleasure washed over me, and I could not help but moan a bit, the sound echoing ever so slightly off of the walls of the shower. I moved to sit up, but kept my fingers inside of me. I was now somewhere between kneeling and sitting, with my legs open beneath me, my left hand rubbing away between my legs, and my right hand beneath me, twisted around, my fingers directed upwards. I was, then, in a matter of speaking, impaled upon my fingers, for they were pointing almost straight up, thrusting into me. I started to bounce up and down on my fingers, first slowly and tentatively, but then more eagerly, pressed onward by the pleasure rising from what seemed like every nerve. Again, I gasped and moaned softly, trying to keep my breathing somewhere near consistent, as my entire body went up and down on my fingers, my left hand now wildly pleasuring my aching, throbbing flower. I felt my heat rising, my pleasure swelling, my explosion nearing, and I continued doing everything I could to bring it forth with full force. When the orgasm hit me, it was not the subtle kind that washes over slowly, it was a shockwave rising from below, and tearing through my body with such force that I could not help but nearly double over, gasping and moaning as I closed my eyes tightly, in the grips of the powerful sensations, fully consumed by the shattering wave of ecstasy. When it subsided, I slowly removed my fingers, my body somewhat weak, my flower so sensitive I could not so much as touch it. For a long moment, I could only lie there and enjoy the exquisite aftermath of the powerful explosion of pleasure. When my breathing returned to normal, I stood up on weak legs and resumed my shower, but the memory of the sheer force of this explosion of pleasure remained with me.