Beth yel
led for Travis to come back down before she left him here, and Travis got up from the chair and walked toward the master bedroom door. Before he walked into the hall, he turned back to look at me.
“You really like her, huh?”
“Yes,” I said. I fiddled with the edge of the towel some more.
“And she likes you?”
“I think so,” I replied.
“I hope you are right,” Travis said. “I want you to have this. You know that, don’t you? I know I overreact, but it’s just because I get worried.”
“I know,” I told him. “I know you are just trying to look out for me, but Mayra…she makes me feel good.”
Travis chuckled.
“Yeah, I’ll bet.” He smiled and winked at me before he walked out.
Tossing the towels over the edge of the shower wall and my clothes into a hamper, I stepped onto the mat by the door to the shower. Twisting the knob, I got the temperature just right before climbing in. The shower was nice and steamy, which was just how I liked it, by the time I closed the door.
I couldn’t stop images of Mayra from going through my head, so I thought about kissing her again.
Turning my face up toward the showerhead, I closed my eyes and let the warm spray cover me. The heat from the water pushed away all the tension I had been feeling along with the soreness in my muscles from the workout. Tilting my head down, I took a long breath before I stepped out from under the direct spray and wiped my face with the towel hanging over the shower door.
I filled my palm with shampoo, rubbed my hands together, and then started scrubbing my hair. Usually I would count the seconds as I washed my hair, but I couldn’t concentrate. I kept thinking about Mayra.
How her lips felt against mine.
How she tasted when my tongue was in her mouth.
How it felt to have her body underneath mine, practically pinned below me as her hands gripped my back and shoulders.
I swallowed hard and tilted my head back into the spray, keeping my eyes closed as the suds cascaded over my face, neck, and shoulders. I wiped my face off again. I hated the thought of getting water or—God forbid—shampoo in my eyes. I added conditioner to my hair because Mom always insisted on it and then dumped a handful of body wash in my hands to work on the rest of me while the conditioner did its thing.
When I washed my arms, I thought about Mayra gripping them as she rose up on her toes to kiss me goodbye. When I washed my legs, I felt the slight ache in my thighs from holding myself over her. When I washed my face and neck, I wondered how kissing her neck would differ from kissing her lips.
The tempo of my breathing increased, and my eyes closed again. I could feel the rapid thump of my heart inside my chest and wondered how I could tell if I was sweating in the shower. I knew the temperature of the water seemed a little warmer all of a sudden.
I also had a full-on erection.
As an eighteen-year-old guy, I had experienced many erections before. I remembered my dad telling me about wet dreams and the like when I was a kid, and I had woken up a few times to such things though I never remembered the associated dream. I hadn’t forgotten the first time I took myself in my hand and masturbated, either, though the act was never a frequent pastime. Those times I had indulged, the woman in my thoughts was always nameless and faceless.
Not this time.
My hand seemed to find itself wrapped around my cock without me really even thinking about it. With images of Mayra underneath me in the car fresh in my mind, I heard myself hiss as I stroked myself from base to tip. I ran my tongue over my lips from left to right, and I could almost still taste her there.
I angled my head back into the water for a moment, quickly rinsing my hair of conditioner before I took a step back and leaned against the cold tile wall. My body shivered as I gripped my erection again with my right hand and my left palm flattened on the wall behind me.
In my head, I see Mayra and myself exiting the car after our make-out session and heading into the house. She takes my hand and leads me upstairs to my bedroom. She turns and walks backwards through the doorway, holding both of my hands in hers as she moves toward my bed. She sits down and pulls her shirt over her head.
My breathing increased to the point where I was practically panting. Base to tip, tip to base.
I reach behind her and deftly unhook her bra, but the details of her exposed flesh are unclear. My hands still find her soft, warm skin, and my mouth finds her waiting lips.
The moisture from my tongue joined the moisture from the shower as I licked at my lips, swallowed, and stroked again—base to tip, tip to base. With my back bracing me against the wall, I moved my free hand to the opposite arm—shoulder to wrist, wrist to shoulder.
Our clothing is gone, and she is beneath me on the bed. She reaches up and takes my head in her hands, stroking my cheeks, down to my jaw and neck.