You dreamed

Images you've given me, the dream in your head:
Crowded bathroom from your youth. Broken towel rack, bruised knees, cold wall against hot skin.

My mind responds with images from the home inside my mind. Images from the bathroom I've painstakingly built in my own fantasy world: the sunken garden tub surrounded by plants, 6' glass brick window over it, and granite and glass brick shower large enough for 3, with 5 rain-style shower heads and reclaimed teak benches. The long, waist-high counter running the length of the room, two sinks and a vanity seat comfortable enough to convince even me to wear makeup.

My mind responds with towel racks sturdy enough to use for barre, and soft rugs to ease bruisable knees.

I hear your voice whispering in my ear, the words that started this entire spiral:
"you cornered me in a bathroom and took what you wanted... and I didn't stop you". 

Again, my mind responds with a plot line, details to fill in your bare statement: an image of steam from the shower rising around you. The sensation of tile beneath my feet and the sway of my hips as I stalk toward you. The cornered look in your eye, half fear and half anticipation. Towel held in front of you like a shield from my nudity... or perhaps, from your reaction to mine. The slow, curving smile flitting across my lips- pleasure and anticipation and challenge- as I reach you and wrap one hand around the back of your neck, pressing myself into you as I pull you down to kiss me. There is no question, no offer here. My lips are a demand, and your response merely payment.

My imagination offers a tangled barrage of images: the towel dropping as your hands move to grip my arms, holding me in place against you. Your hands, your mouth, on my breasts, rough and hungry with long denial. My gasp and arch against you at the sharp pain/pleasure of teeth in sensitive nipples. My body bowed back against you, your hand beneath my lower back. 

Low ache of tile beneath my knees, your thighs beneath my hands as I drag you into my mouth. Low growl of contentment at the long-awaited taste of you. Teasing flicks of my fingers against your balls, choking fullness of each deep-throating press of my lips to your groin.

My legs wrapped around you, gripping your waist with the ease of nearly 3 decades of horseback riding. The sharp ache of you inside me, stretching me. The moaning warmth of your teeth against my throat. The dig of my nails in your back, coppery scent of blood in the air. 

In the shower. Hot water running over your skin, reddening it until a part of me waits for Beastie to split through your skin like a bad werewolf movie. The image should disgust me, and yet it doesn't.

Cold tile against my back, your hands gripping my ass. Thighs burning with strain of gripping you and cunt joyfully full. My nails digging into your shoulders, breasts bouncing, and the sheer animal lust on your face almsot enough to drag me over the edge into orgasm.

Outside, steam swirling around the room and the tile floor cold beneath my feet. My breasts pressed into the counter, body bent beneath you. Brief glimpses of your face in the mirror, eyes almost angry and hands rough on my hips. One hand lifting to my head, tangling in my hair, forcing my head back down until I am pressed down and helpless beneath you- your legs spreading mine, your hands forcing me down and over. Ache of my jaw against the cold counter, and the stark contrast of the heat of your skin, the heat between my legs. 

Over and over, the video loops in my head, until I squirm in my seat and fight the growing wetness between my thighs.