Shower Stroke: Prostate Pleasure

The rain hammered against the windows of the cabin, a relentless, insistent rhythm that mirrored the frantic beat of my own heart. Outside, the world was a blurred watercolor of gray, mirroring the dampness clinging to my skin. But inside, the air was thick with anticipation, heavy with the scent of pine and something else entirely – something primal, something desperate. I shifted slightly on the worn leather couch, pulling the heavy wool blanket tighter around my legs, a futile attempt to ward off the chill that had nothing to do with the weather.

He’d arrived an hour ago, a whirlwind of dark eyes and restless energy. Liam. Just saying his name sent a shiver down my spine, a delicious tremor that spread through my core. He was a sculptor, they said, a man who coaxed beauty from the cold, unyielding stone. But tonight, he was something else entirely – a predator, a possessor, a man who understood the language of my deepest desires.

We’d spent the last hour talking, mostly about nothing at all. The rain, the solitude of the cabin, the strange beauty of the wilderness surrounding us. But beneath the surface of polite conversation, there was an undeniable tension, a palpable hunger that crackled between us like static electricity. I could feel his gaze, insistent and probing, tracing the curves of my body, lingering on the swell of my breasts, the delicate slope of my hips. It wasn’t just lust; it was a complete, unadulterated obsession.

Earlier, I'd confessed my peculiar pleasure, the small, secret rituals that brought me such intense, almost overwhelming sensations. The cucumber, the awkward hand positioning in the shower, the yearning for something more, something that could fully satisfy the craving that burned within me. I’d even mentioned my fascination with the idea of an aneros, the thought of experiencing the pleasure he described so vividly.

Now, as he leaned closer, his breath warm against my ear, I realized that he wasn’t just listening. He was understanding. He was anticipating.

“You enjoy the pressure, don’t you?” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through my bones. “The feeling of being completely enveloped, controlled, dominated?”

I swallowed hard, unable to deny the truth in his words. “Yes,” I whispered, my voice barely audible above the drumming rain. “It’s… intense.”

He chuckled, a deep, resonant sound that sent a jolt of electricity through me. He reached out, his hand brushing against my thigh, sending a wave of heat through my body. It wasn’t a gentle caress; it was a deliberate exploration, a slow, deliberate probing that ignited a fire in my veins.

“Let me show you,” he said, his voice husky with desire. He began to unbutton my jeans, his fingers working with practiced efficiency, each movement deliberate, sensual. As the denim fell away, revealing the smooth expanse of my skin, I felt a surge of both pleasure and panic. This was beyond anything I'd imagined, a descent into a world of raw, unbridled sensation.

He pulled me closer, his body pressing against mine, filling the small space of the couch. The rain continued to batter the windows, a chaotic soundtrack to our escalating desire. He took my hand, his fingers interlacing with mine, his grip firm and possessive.

“You’ve been holding back,” he said, his voice laced with amusement. “You said you wanted to try something new. Something that would really bring you to your knees.”

I felt a tremor run through me, a primal instinct taking over. I needed to surrender, to release myself completely to the sensations he was about to unleash.

He moved swiftly, his hand sliding beneath my jeans, finding its mark. The pressure was immediate, intense, a sharp, piercing pain that quickly morphed into a delicious, overwhelming pleasure. I gasped, arching my back, pulling my legs closer, as he began to insert his finger into my rectum.

The sensation was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. It wasn’t just penetration; it was a complete violation, a stripping away of control, a complete submission to his will. My body convulsed, my muscles clenching and releasing in a desperate attempt to fight the pleasure that threatened to consume me. But there was no escape.

He worked his finger slowly, deliberately, finding the optimal angle, the perfect pressure. He massaged my prostate, stimulating it with a rhythmic, insistent motion. The pleasure built and built, a tidal wave of sensation that washed over me, leaving me breathless, weak, utterly lost in the moment.

As he continued to stroke my prostate, my body began to relax, the tension slowly draining away. I closed my eyes, surrendering completely to the pleasure, letting the waves of sensation wash over me, drowning out the sounds of the rain, the world outside.

My breathing became shallow, rapid, each inhale and exhale a testament to the intensity of the experience. I moaned, a low, guttural sound that seemed to tear from the depths of my being.

He didn’t stop. He continued to stroke my prostate, his touch relentless, insistent, demanding. He brought me to the edge, pushing me further and further into the abyss of pleasure.

Finally, as he withdrew his finger, leaving behind a burning, throbbing sensation, I let out a final, desperate cry. I collapsed against him, clinging to him, desperate for more.

He held me close, his body pressing against mine, whispering words of pleasure against my ear. “Did you enjoy that?” he asked, his voice thick with satisfaction.

I could only nod, unable to speak, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the experience. The rain continued to fall, but it no longer mattered. I was lost in a world of pure sensation, a world where pleasure reigned supreme, and I, his willing captive, was more than happy to submit.

The night stretched on, filled with endless rounds of pleasure and submission. We explored every inch of my body, pushing the boundaries of our desires, reveling in the exquisite pain and pleasure that intertwined so inextricably.

As the first rays of dawn began to peek through the rain-streaked windows, I knew that this experience would forever change me. It had opened a door to a part of myself that I hadn’t known existed, a place where pleasure was not just desired, but demanded.

Liam smiled, a slow, knowing smile. "You're a pleasure to possess," he murmured, before turning to leave, leaving me alone with the lingering echoes of our shared passion, the scent of pine and rain, and the unforgettable memory of the night we conquered our desires.

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