My mind raced with thoughts of his thick arms, and in response, my fingers made their way down to my clit. They were steering this ship now. The logical part of my brain had stepped out, as if for a tea break.
I began to touch myself just the way I liked it — short, firm strokes, interspersed with the occasional long one. It was pussy Morse code, a system of communication so sophisticated there were few men in the world who could master it and I hadn’t met any of them yet. The vaginal lieutenants, if you will.
A full-bodied groan escaped my throat, and I pushed my hips down, forcing my clit harder onto my fingers. Could Carter touch me like this?
Yes, I thought. Any man who could make a home with this much artistry knew how to pleasure a woman.
His image swirled through my brain as the space between my legs grew more and more sensitive to the touch.
“Carter,” I whispered, my breath haggard and uneven.
I was on the brink. I pressed my shoulder blades against the tile wall, and with a couple quick flicks of the wrist, brought myself to orgasm.
The sound that escaped me was unexpected, to say the least. It was somewhere between a mangled moan and a delighted yelp, so loud that I immediately clamped my hand over my mouth, embarrassed at the volume and being in a tiled shower only made it seem louder.
But God, pleasure oozed through me, blood boiling and saliva thick at my lips. I’d come to thoughts of Carter, and it had been so fucking good.
“You okay in there?”
My head shot up.
Shit.
“What?” I asked through strangled vocal cords.
“I thought I heard something.”
Okay, so Carter was at the door, and he’d heard me masturbating.
No, I thought. He heard me orgasming. Was that any better?
“You okay? Do you need help?”
Sure, I needed help, if by help he meant his cock. That variety of help I was ready to accept at a moment’s notice.
But, alas, I’d promised myself that I wouldn’t try it with Carter, and if you can’t stay true to yourself, who can you stay true to?
“I’m fine,” I called back at last. My voice a little strangled.
“I just—”
He wasn’t going anywhere. I’m sure he thought he was being a gentleman. If only he knew…
I sprung out of the shower, threw my towel around my naked body, and went to the door. Pulling it open just a crack, I stuck my flushed face through to look at him.
He was standing in the hall, hands on his hips, a worried expression contorting his features.
“You all right?” he asked again.
“Totally fine.”
“What was it?” Carter pressed.
“Uh I was just…” Oh man, why wasn’t I a more practiced liar? “I was just warming up my vocal cords,” I finished feebly.
“You’re a singer?”
Why had I made up such an easily disproven lie? This was amateur hour. I had to pivot.
“Nope, trying to, uh, get the dust out of my throat. Y’know. From the road.”
He nodded in understanding, though I could tell the excuse hadn’t gone over seamlessly because the crease between his eyes remained in place.
“Well, okay then,” he said.
“I didn’t hear you pulling up.” Or else I wouldn’t have been masturbating.
“I’ve been home for a while,” he replied. “Didn’t you see my truck?”
Argh! No, I’d been too busy scanning the ground for rocks on the way to the house. But I’d have been better off getting glass in my foot than letting Carter hearing me moan.
“Must have missed it,” I said. It felt nice to finally tell him just a piece of truth.
“Gotcha.” He slung his thumbs through his belt loops, and continued, “My son’s home now. You wanna put on clothes, then meet him?”
I could picture it now, ‘Hey, kid, I’m this random stranger who totally wants to bang your dad and is living in your trailer and, right, is also jacking off in your shower! Wanna make macaroni necklaces?’
Instead, I nodded vigorously. “Of course. I’ll run out to the trailer and be right back.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
I opened the door wider, and Carter took a step back. I thought I saw his eyes running the length of my body, but that was probably just wishful thinking.
Making myself as small as possible, I squeezed past him, hoping that he couldn’t spot the crimson rising along my neck, a telltale red flag of the inappropriate thoughts I’d been having about him.
I was so busy minimizing and cramming that I hadn’t thought to maintain the tightest hold on the towel. Its moist edges slipped from my fingertips, and in a single breath, it plummeted to the ground.
Carter whirled around so fast that I wondered, through the mist of my panic, if averting your eyes from naked women was a special event at rodeos.
“Oh my God,” I cried.