She Told Me

She told me she was too tired. She told me she had a headache. She told me she just wanted to take a shower and go to bed.

When I got in the shower with her, erect to make a slab of granite proud, she told me to leave her alone. When I squeezed her small, perky tits and pressed my cock against the small of her back, she told me to stop. When I kissed the side of her neck and pinched her nipples, she told me to go away. When I spun her to face me and dropped to my knees, she told me she was going to slip and fall. When I licked the water running over her cleft, she told me she hadn’t cleaned down there yet. When my tongue found her clit and a finger parted her lips, she told me the shower curtain rod couldn’t support her weight.

When I took her clit between my teeth and slipped two more fingers into her gushing slit, she told me that Jesus’s middle name was Fucking. When I kissed her back down from her climax, she told me her headache was gone.