Shower Sex: Wife's Wet Fantasy

The rain hammered against the windows, a relentless, insistent rhythm that mirrored the building tension within me. My husband, Mark, was stuck late at the office, a common occurrence these days, and the silence of our opulent apartment felt suffocating. I'd spent the last three hours in a state of heightened anticipation, a slow burn of desire that had begun with a revitalizing shower – the hot water a delicious prelude to what was to come. The detachable shower head, a small indulgence I’d purchased on a whim, proved to be an unexpectedly potent tool for self-pleasure. The cool, forceful spray against my clitoris, coupled with the rhythmic pulsing of the water, sent shivers down my spine, escalating the pleasure until I found myself gasping for air, desperate for release.

It wasn’t enough. Not even close. The tingling sensation lingered, a persistent reminder of the potential that lay dormant within me. I moved to the living room, seeking refuge in the plush comfort of the oversized, velvet sofa. The deep cushions invited me to sink in, to lose myself in the tactile sensation of the fabric against my skin. I straddled the armrest, my weight pressing into the soft material, a primal urge demanding immediate satisfaction. My pussy throbbed, eager to be released. I began to tease myself, slowly building the tension, bringing myself tantalizingly close to climax, only to pull back just as the moment arrived. The anticipation was exquisite, a cruel dance between pleasure and restraint.

Finally, when the pressure became unbearable, I surrendered. I ground my wet pussy into the fabric, letting out a primal scream of ecstasy. It was a release unlike any other, a raw, uninhibited expression of my deepest desires. The sofa absorbed my moans, the scent of my arousal mingling with the rich aroma of the velvet. I collapsed onto the cushions, lost in the afterglow, gently stroking my inner lips, reveling in their slippery texture and the exquisite sensation of their stimulation. The clitoris, a sensitive nerve center, responded instantly, demanding attention. I grabbed where my clit met my lips, digging my fingers deep, exploring every curve and crevice. The pleasure intensified, building into another wave of intense, pulsating sensations. I squealed with delight, unable to contain my arousal. Each orgasm felt stronger than the last, a testament to the power of self-indulgence. I realized I desperately needed a real cock, one that could truly satisfy my craving.

Without hesitation, I made my way to the bedroom, retrieving my favorite rubber cock from the drawer. It was a dark red, glossy silicone toy, perfectly molded to fit my anatomy. I suctioned it to the coffee table, a small, unassuming piece of equipment that held immense power in my hands. I lowered myself onto its girth, sliding down its smooth surface, feeling the cool plastic against my skin. The anticipation returned, hotter and more urgent than before. It wasn't as big as Mark's, but it served its purpose, providing a crucial outlet for my overwhelming desire. I began to bob up and down, rubbing my clit against the textured surface, letting out soft moans of pleasure. The sensation was overwhelming, a torrent of sensation that threatened to consume me entirely. I came again, hard, unable to resist the mounting pressure. My moans intensified, shaking my entire body. I couldn’t contain my pleasure, my senses heightened by the sheer intensity of the experience. It felt so incredibly good, a release that left me breathless and weak.

The rain continued to lash against the windows, providing a soundtrack to my unrestrained pleasure. I imagined Mark, oblivious to my excitement, working diligently in his sterile office. The thought fueled my desire, intensifying my arousal. I knew he'd be home eventually, and when he was, he’d be in for a very rude awakening. My pussy was begging for his touch, his weight, his power. I remained naked, savoring the sensation of my exposed skin, the feeling of being completely in control. The convenience of being unburdened by clothing was a welcome relief. I knew I wouldn't be able to wait long before succumbing to the ultimate pleasure – the release that only a man could provide. It was a thrilling prospect, a promise of intense pleasure that kept me on the edge of my seat. I felt a surge of confidence, a sense of empowerment that only came from knowing you could satisfy yourself completely, without needing anyone else's help. The thought was intoxicating. I anticipated his arrival with a mix of excitement and anticipation, eager to unleash my pent-up desires upon him. It was going to be a long, passionate night, filled with the sounds of moans and sighs, the scent of arousal, and the undeniable feeling of being utterly, completely satisfied. And when he finally walked through the door, he wouldn't know what hit him. The pleasure, both physical and mental, had been building for hours, and I was more than ready to let it all out. My pussy, my body, my desires – all mine to command, all mine to explore. And I intended to make every moment count. The rain continued its relentless assault, a constant reminder of the storm raging within me, a storm that would soon be unleashed upon my unsuspecting husband.

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