Speaker 1: The water's roar was the first thing I noticed every morning,
that hollow, pounding sound that filled my head like cotton
drowning out the clank of cell doors and the guard's
shouted orders. The steam came next, curling up from the
tiles in thick white ribbons, wrapping around my shoulders like
something almost tender. I stepped under my usual shower head,
the same one I'd claimed six weeks ago on my
first day in Cell Block C. The metal was hot
against my palm. When I twisted the knob, scalding water
hit my back, and I let my head drop forward,
eyes closed, hair plastering itself to my cheeks. This is
the only time I'm not being watched. Except that wasn't
true anymore, was it. The shaft of air beside me
was barely perceptible, a cool draft against my wet shoulder.
I didn't open my eyes, didn't need to. My body
knew before my brain caught up, the skin on my
arms prickling, my stomach dropping like I'd missed a stare kelsey.
I smelled the soap, first, lemon, industrial, the same stuff
we all used, but under it something else, something that
made my mouth water. I'd spent three weeks trying to
identify it, vanilla maybe, or almond. Last night, in the
dark of our bunks, I decided it didn't matter. It
was just her. My eyes opened, her back was to me,
water tracing the elegant geography of her spine, pooling in
the twin dimples above her ass before cascading down. She
was soaping her arms in slow circles, hypnotic and deliberate.
The muscles in her shoulders flexed with each motion. She
knew I was watching, She had to know. My hands
stilled on my own stomach, the soap slick between my
fingers suddenly obscene. I watched a single water droplet cling
to the nape of her neck hesitate, then race down
the channel of her back until it disappeared into the
cleft of her ass. My clip throbbed once hard. Jesus, Nina,
get it together, but I couldn't. I'd been trying for weeks,
Ever since Kelsey sat next to me in the mess
hall on a Tuesday, her thigh pressed against mine for
three seconds too long. Ever since she'd accidentally brushed my
hand in the laundry room, her fingers lingering just enough
to be a question since the first night. I heard
her breathing change in the bunk above mine after lights out,
a soft, stifled rhythm that matched the movement of my
own hand beneath my blanket. She turned her head profile
in the steam, lips parted, dark hair slicked back, our
eyes met, the air left my lungs. There was no
mistaking that look. I'd seen it before in other women's
eyes at bars, at parties, in the breathless dark of
a stranger's bedroom, but never like this, never so raw,
so stripped of pretense. Do it. The command was silent,
but I felt it in my chest, like a second heartbeat.
My hand was shaking when I lifted it. I remember
that the tremor in my fingers as they crossed the
space between us, the way the shower spray caught my wrist,
splashing warm water onto my forearm. My fingertips touched her
lower back. She gasped, sharp intake of breath, almost lost
in the water's roar. The muscles beneath my touch went rigid,
then soft, so soft, like her body was making a decision.
Her mind hadn't caught up with yet. She pressed back
just a fraction a millimeter of movement that said yes,
fucking take me, have me. My other hand found her hip.
The bone was sharp beneath the give of her skin.
You're so beautiful, I said, in a breathy voice. She shuddered,
actually shuddered, like my words were a physical weight pressing
against her. And then she turned. Her breasts brushed mine,
slick cool. Her nipples were dark and tight, pebbled from
the cooling water. The contact sent a jolt through me,
electric and immediate, straight to the aching center I'd been
ignoring for weeks. The steam wrapped around us like a cocoon.
Her hands came up to cut my face. Her thumbs
stroked my cheekbones, wiping away water. Then she kissed me.
It wasn't gentle, it was desperate. A clash of lips
and tongue, and three weeks of stolen glances and sleepless nights,
she tasted like something I'd been starving for without knowing it.
My hands flew to her waist, pulling her flush against me,
and the heat of her stomach pressed against mine sent
another pulse of want straight through my core. I groaned
into her mouth. I couldn't help it. It was the
first real contact I'd had in months, the first time
I'd been touched with something other than indifference or violence,
and it was her. Her tongue slid against mine, and
my knees almost buckled. She broke the kiss, gasping. Her
lips trailed down my jaw, my neck, the hollow of
my throat. Each kiss was deliberate, a path of fire
across my wet skin. When her mouth closed over my nipple,
I cried out. The sound echoed off the tiles, too loud.
Someone would hear, someone would come. I didn't care. Her
tongue was hot against the tight bud of my areola.
She sucked with a steady, devastating rhythm, and every pole
went straight to my clit like a plucked string. My
head hit the tile wall behind me. My hands tangled
in her wet hair, holding her there, my hips already
rolling forward in a rhythm I couldn't control. Godkels. The
words tore out of me right there. She switched to
the other breast, and the cool air on my wet
nipple made me gasp before her mouth sealed over it.
Her fingers found the one she'd abandoned, rolling and pinching
until I thought I might come just from this. My
legs were shaking, the water beat against my shoulder blades.
The steam thickened around us, a fog of lemon, soap
and sex. When she finally pulled back, her lips were swollen.
Her eyes were dark, glazed, half liitted with want. She
looked at me like I was something precious and devastating
all at once. She sank to her knees. The concrete
floor must have been cold, rough against her shins, but
she didn't flinch. Her hands slid down my sides, over
the flare of my hips, down my thighs. She spread
my legs with a gentleness that made my chest ache.
Her breath was hot against my stomach, then lower. I
was shaking, actually shaking, my whole body, trembling like a
plucked wire. She looked up at me, her eyes held
a question. Even now on her knees, with my wetness
slicking my thighs inches from her mouth, she was asking,
making sure I nodded. I couldn't speak. Her mouth found me.
The first touch of her tongue was a slow, soft
lick from bottom to top, broad and flat and devastatingly thorough.
I made a sound I'd never made before, half sob
half moan, a choked thing that tore out of my
throat without permission. She didn't rush, She explored like she
was memorizing my taste, my shape, the specific geography of
my pleasure. Her tongue traced every fold, every crevice with
a focused curiosity that left me gasping. She tongued deep
inside me, like she was making out gently with my hot,
dripping cunt. She lapped at my clit with her thick,
pink tongue, wormed into it hard, making me gasp in pleasure.
Then she started to lick me clit to pussy to asshole,
tasting all of me. Fuck me, I purred as the
shower beat down on us. Each stroke was deliberate, intentional.
She licked broad stripes that made my hips jerk. Then
she circled my clit with the point of her tongue,
and my vision blurred. Oh fuck. My hands flew to
the tile, fingers scrabbling for purchase. Kelsey's hands gripped my thighs,
holding me steady, her thumbs digging into the soft flesh
as she sealed her mouth over my clit and sucked
I bucked against her face. I couldn't stop. The coil
inside me was winding tight, tighter than it had ever been,
each pulse of pleasure ratcheting me higher. She moaned against me,
and the vibration tipped me over the edge. It hit
me like a freight train. My orgasm crashed through me
in waves, relentless, all consuming. My thighs clenched around her head.
I cried out, a raw sound that bounced off the
shower walls. She didn't stop. Her tongue kept working me
through the tremors, drawing it out, pulling every last shudder
from my body, until my legs gave out and I
slid down the tile wall. She caught me, her body
pressed against mine, our wet skins sliding together. She kissed me,
deep and slow, and I tasted myself on her tongue,
salty and sweet and utterly in toxating. We stayed like that,
tangled in the steam and the sound of rushing water. Quickly,
she said, do me before the guards come. I bit
my trembling lip, looked at the shower door, then grabbed
Kelsie and pinned her against the shower wall. I had
to give her what she gave me before we were interrupted.
I was raw, fast and animal. I kissed her rough
and ragged, sucked and licked her neck, and made my
way down to her nipples. I spat on them, laughed
and teased them until they were as hard as bullets,
then sunk down further. I got on my knees. Her
slicked up, soapy cunt was in my face and put
my hand between her legs and wiped it clean. I
heard Kelsey moan, and I looked up at her as
I buried my face into her dripping snatch fuck. She
tasted good and musky. I licked her frantically, reaching around
to play with her asshole as her pussy smothered my face.
I tongued deep, tasting her insides. Then I fingered her hole,
played with her clit at breakneck speed. I kept the
rhythm going, fought against her as she tried to buck
away from the pleasure, then felt a huge gush of
her cum splash all over my fingers, face, and tongue.
She screamed in ecstasy as steam rose and hot water
beated down on us. Jesus Christ, this was amazing. When
we were clean, smelling of lemon, soap and damp skin.
We stood together under the cooling spray. Our hands brushed
our eyes met Kelsey reached up and turned off the water.
The silence was deafening. She grabbed a towel, wrapped it
around herself, then handed one to me. Our faces touched
in the exchange. Tomorrow, she said, soft, barely, a whisper,
a statement, a promise. I nodded, my heart still pounding
as I followed her out of the stall, Our wet
footprints mingled on the tile floor, a map of where
we'd been. I reached out and squeezed her shoulder, leaned
in and licked her ear, and said, fuck tomorrow. See
you on the bottom bunk tonight, tonight. I hoped you
enjoyed today's sexy story. If you love this podcast, leave
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Maybe we can make your dirty dreams come true. See
you soon,