My relationship with #72 is moving along nicely.  I’m having fun and regular sex is always a good thing.   He also has a really nice house and whenever I stay over it feels like I’m on vacation.  Massive bed, rustic ceiling, coffee delivered while I’m still under the sheets.  It’s a weekly retreat I look forward to every Friday night.  (Dave gets in the way of going during the week).  #72 is considerate and a romantic; bringing me flowers when I made him dinner and making sure his freezer is stocked with m&m’s (which I love frozen.)   Suffice it to say, he treats me well.

Last week, I went directly to his house after work.  He granted me access to his shower and when there’s the prospect of getting some action, I like to make sure the important and hopefully soon to be used area is clean and fresh.  He was, of course amenable to that.

I started stripping in the bedroom and walked into the bathroom in my bra and lace thong (matching of course).   He made some comment about how hot I looked and went about getting the water to the perfect temperature.  As I climbed into the shower he left me to do what needed to be done.

The green and black tiled shower was comforting and so masculine that I started to get turned on just thinking about what was in store when I got out.  I finished quickly, wanting to get to the action asap.  I turned off the water and looked around for a towel.  None.  I called out to him, asking where my towel was.

“Hang on a moment.”

So I waited a moment.  And another.  I’ve stayed in some dumpy hotels but considering this was more like the four star variety, I was getting annoyed.  I don’t like to drip dry.   I yelled out, “The service here sucks.”  In two seconds, he came into the bathroom with a towel.  A freshly warmed towel.  Just out of the dryer.

I’m not sure when it was that he called me an ungrateful bitch, but it was done with a smile and a hearty laugh.   As he wrapped the towel around me, I realized that this was a one off event.  Because of my reaction, it would probably never happen again.  At least not with me.   But then I thought, if it did it would be an even bigger surprise.  And he’d have learned to move faster.

Moral of the story, it’s better to have a dick in your mouth than your foot.