Page 63 of Old-Fashioned

He let me go then, and knelt on the ground at my feet, and then with his eyes locked on mine, he unbuttoned my jeans, and started to lower them off me.

He got to the top of my panties, and whispered, “You need me to stop anything, you say the word, I’ll stop. Okay?”

I made a mental note to never utter the word stop when I was with him.

At my nod, he swallowed and continued lowering my jeans off my legs.

The material was sticking but he didn’t let that stop him.

Not by a long shot.

Once he got them lowered to my ankles, he whispered, “Brace yourself on my shoulders.”

Once I did, he grabbed one calf, lifted, and pulled my shoe off, followed by my sock.

He repeated the process with my other shoe and sock, and only then did he take the jeans off.

With that, he stood, unbuttoned his own jeans, lowered the zipper, and took his jeans off, and his socks and boots.

For long seconds, we both stood there, taking in the other, and every time I licked my lips, Abel groaned.

But Abel hadn’t missed something, no, he sure didn’t miss the goosebumps that were pebbling up my body, “Hot shower, to warm us both up.”

At that he took my hand and led me into the bathroom.

Standing there, he winked, and then lowered his boxers, and the moment I saw his hard cock, I freaking swallowed.

My hands moved of their own accord as I unsnapped my bra, and then removed my panties.

And I stood there in front of Abel in nothing.

But it was the fire in his eyes that made everything okay.

The fire that seemed to heat the longer he took his fill of me.

And there in the shower, I knew I never wanted to take another shower by myself ever again.

Both of us explored the other’s body with our hands, and our mouths. At first, I had been hesitant.

And to that, my Abel simply held his arms out at his sides, and smiled down at me, “There is nothing you can do to me that I won’t like. As long as it’s you doing it.”

As he massaged shampoo into my hair, he pressed kisses along my neck.

As he applied conditioner, he made sure to show that same love to the other side of my neck.

We didn’t use loofas or wash clothes, for the soap.

No, we used our hands.

And let me tell you something, the feel of his rough and calloused hand on certain parts of my body, I’ve never had an orgasm, but I knew I was close to one by the time he cut the water off after we rinsed off.

And of course he knew it.

He winked down at me, tagged a towel, wrapped it around me, and started to dry me off.

And then he winked, “Go get on the bed, Birdie.”

With that I did as he said, and when I looked over my shoulder at him, it was to see his eyes had been watching my ass as it swayed away from him.