Shed Showers: Heat & Wetness

The sun beat down on the back of my neck, a welcome warmth after a long day wrestling with stubborn roots and thorny vines. We’d transformed the back corner of the yard into a wild tangle of roses and hydrangeas, a testament to our shared passion for gardening. It was one of those particularly humid spring days, the kind that clings to your skin and makes you sweat just thinking about it. And, as you may recall from our last encounter, we ended up stripping down to our bare skin, digging in the dirt with abandon, utterly lost in the rhythm of labor and pleasure. The aftermath had been explosive, a primal release that left us both breathless and utterly satisfied on our double patio lounger. Now, we desperately needed a cleansing, a reset button to wash away the grime and the lingering heat.

Luckily, I’d invested in an outdoor shower last year, a discreet addition to the garden shed. It wasn’t much – just a simple showerhead attached to the metal siding, flanked by two plastic chairs for foot washing. But it was perfect, a secluded sanctuary where we could indulge in a bit of private bliss.

Ellen, her eyes gleaming with anticipation, grabbed my still hard cock, using it as a leash, pulling me across the yard towards the shed. The scent of damp earth and blooming honeysuckle hung heavy in the air, mixing with the primal urge that throbbed between us. As we approached the shower, the lack of privacy felt both exciting and slightly scandalous. There was no need for a curtain or a blind; the nakedness of the situation was already intensely intimate.

She turned on the water, the initial blast of cold hitting my skin like a shock, followed by the gradual warming of the stream. As the temperature rose, she settled into one of the plastic chairs, her hands finding purchase on my rigid member, keeping me taut and responsive. I could feel the heat radiating from her body, fueling the fire within me. The scent of her skin, clean and slightly soapy, mingled with the fresh water, creating an intoxicating blend that threatened to overwhelm my senses.

When the water reached the perfect temperature, she instructed me to sit in the chair, her gaze intense and demanding. “Don’t touch yourself,” she commanded, her voice low and husky. The restraint was exhilarating, a delicious anticipation that built within me as I watched her strip off her clothes and step beneath the showerhead.

She lathered her breasts with vigorous strokes, the warm water cascading over her skin, creating a glistening sheen. Her hands moved with an almost frantic energy, massaging her breasts with a sensual abandon that sent shivers down my spine. The sight of her exposed skin, glistening under the sunlight, was a potent aphrodisiac. As she rinsed the soap from her tits, she grabbed them again, this time licking her nipples with a deliberate, possessive pleasure. Her eyes met mine, a silent challenge, a warning to resist my urges. It was a test of control, a delicious dance between dominance and submission.

Next, she soaped up her shaved pussy and ass, turning around and bending over to present me with her favorite view. The sight of her vulnerable, exposed flesh ignited a blaze of desire within me. She reached a finger into her ass and pussy, almost bringing herself to orgasm, her body tensing with the building pressure. "Hands by your side," she scolded, her voice laced with a playful threat. The command sent a jolt of electricity through my veins, heightening my arousal to an unbearable degree.

Then, she beckoned me to join her, as she lathered up my entire body, spending an unusually long time on my cock and asshole. She even gave my ass a thorough cleaning, sticking her finger up my butt, a new and unexpected pleasure that left me gasping for air. It felt both dirty and divine, a primal act that stripped away any sense of shame or inhibition. The sensation was new, intriguing, and utterly captivating.

She left me to rinse off all the soap from my crevices, while she dried off and settled back into the chair, spreading her legs and massaging her clit. Her movements were slow, deliberate, each touch a deliberate invitation to pleasure. She still admonished me not to masturbate, claiming that she was in charge of the experience. It was a gentle reminder of her dominance, a playful challenge to my control.

As I finished rinsing, I turned off the shower and began drying myself with a rough towel. But when I turned around, Ellen was gone. She had emerged from the tool shed, clad in a seven-inch strap-on cock. The sight of it was both shocking and strangely alluring. It was an object of desire, a symbol of her newfound confidence and experimentation.

“This is something I bought at Sally’s ‘tupperware’ parties,” she explained, her voice laced with amusement. “Apparently, some of the other wives enjoy this new activity called ‘pegging’.” She had clearly found a strange comfort in this shared indulgence, a way to connect with her peers through shared fantasies and forbidden pleasures.

She had me kneel on one of the chairs, positioning my ass in the air so she could lick my exposed flesh. Her warm tongue felt incredibly good on my ass, while she simultaneously inserted her finger and thumb up my butt, further enhancing the experience. The anticipation built within me, a delicious tension that threatened to consume me.

Then, she slowly inserted the strap-on dildo into my ass, gently moving it in and out, taking her time to maximize the sensation. It took a while, but I loosened up, succumbing to the pleasure of the experience. All the while, Ellen was milking my dick, trying to coax me closer to climax. And she succeeded. With a final, powerful thrust, she pulled it out, suggesting that we move to the double lounger.

She immediately climbed onto the lounger backwards, commanding me to “lick her asshole.” As she had done before, she was wet from my saliva, her body relaxed and open to pleasure. Her moans intensified as my tongue moved up and down her butt hole, occasionally inserting my finger and thumb for added excitement. I felt my control slipping away, succumbing to the overwhelming urge to please her.

After about five minutes, she told me to "fuck her in the ass!" Without hesitation, I gently pushed my cock into her opening, initiating our first anal encounter. It was an awkward, slightly hesitant act, but the sensation was surprisingly intense. We had never engaged in this type of sexual activity before, but the shared experience was electrifying.

As I pumped her slowly, she came, her body arching in pleasure. The feeling of her orgasm reverberated through me, leaving me breathless and spent. She pulled out, her body still trembling with the afterglow of pleasure, and suggested that we move to the lounger again.

We both rolled over, exhausted and spent, laying there in the fading light of the setting sun. The scent of wet earth, blooming roses, and the lingering warmth of our bodies filled the air. It felt as if time had ceased to exist, lost in the bliss of our shared experience. We drifted off to sleep, grateful for the day’s adventures and the incredible pleasure of our intertwined desires.

Later, I would ask her about those “tupperware” parties at Sally’s house, eager to learn more about this strange and fascinating world of shared fantasies and forbidden pleasures. But for now, all that mattered was the lingering warmth of her touch, the memory of her moans, and the profound connection we had forged in the heart of our secluded garden.

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Shed Showers: Heat & Wetness

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