The door to Steve’s shed was unlocked and ajar when I
gently pushed it open. “You’re late,” he said, without looking
up from washing his hands in an oil and paint-stained stainless
steel laundry tub just inside the door. I started to apologize
but he cut me short, telling me to “strip!” He sounded definite
about it and I immediately reached for the small pearly buttons
of my blouse, my trembling fingers fumbling quickly with each
until I was able to slip it quickly from my shoulders. There
wasn’t much else to remove; just my skirt, which dropped
silently the moment the button holding it at my waist was
undone.

“You smell disgusting!” he said, wiping his hands and forearms
dry after washing them in the large tub. I’d been acutely aware
of the odor but it felt like a blow in the stomach to be so
bluntly reminded of it. Steve told me to climb up onto the bench
next to the laundry tub; to climb into it and sit there while it
filled with warm water. It felt strange, sitting there naked
with the water rising around me. I watched silently as Steve
turned his attention to my skirt and blouse, bundled them up in
his arms and disappeared out to the back of his shed.

When he returned the tub was still filling. He stood beside me
not saying anything; just staring absently into the clear, warm
water rising up around my naked body. A minute or two more
passed silently before he reached around me to turn off the
taps. For one brief second I thought he was going to try and
kiss me and I held my breath nervously hoping he wouldn’t. He
didn’t, but his arms lingered either side of my shoulders; his
hands eventually reaching for bar of soap, retrieving it from a
shelf just behind my head.

I couldn’t stop myself from shaking as he gently wrapped one arm
around the back of my shoulder and reached down into the shallow
water to moisten the soap he held in his other hand. He splashed
a little water up onto me and then proceeded to caress me with
the soap, beginning down under the water around my feet and
ankles and working his way slowly up over my knees and then further up
my thighs.

Not a word was spoken as Steve gently pressed the soap between
my thighs. It was a reflex action to relax them and allow him
unhindered access to my pussy which he started to massage and
caress with the smooth, slipperiness of the soap. I gasped
quietly under my breath as he concentrated his efforts, rubbing
the bar firmly against the front of my pelvic bone and grinding the
soap against my clitoris in the process.

I squirmed and writhed in the sudsy water trying to keep the
pressure away from my clitoris but his arm around my shoulder
held me firm. It didn’t take very much of this vigorous rubbing
before my hips slid forward and my knees dropped open as far as
the sides of the tub would allow. I felt thoroughly ashamed of
myself, but I couldn’t help it. I felt trapped between his
strong, hairy arms and the more I thought about how inescapable
the pleasure was, the more aroused I became until sounds of my
own moaning began loudly filling my ears; sounds which filled the
empty quietness of Steve’s shed.

I became delirious; my eyes filling with tears as I begged him
to stop while at the same time thrashing about in a wild,
uncontrolable state of rapture each time he penetrated me with
the bar of soap. His free hand worked its way around and under
my arm; his large, strong hand cupping one of my breasts fully;
his rough fingers pinching the tender, swollen bud of its nipple. I’d
never felt such mind-numbing pleasure. It was like he had eight arms
and every one of them had hold of a nerve ending that sent immediate,
powerful charges of energy to my clitoris.

I don’t usually make any noise when orgasming; the sound of my
own voice making such sounds frightens me and fills me with deep
embarrassment. But I couldn’t hold back the throaty, choked noises
any longer and once I’d let go of my self control, the room seemed to
resound with a noise that I couldn’t imagine was coming from within
me. It was an animal noise; a garbled, jibberish sound like nothing
I’d ever made before.

It became too much and with both hands I grabbed Steve’s
muscular arm; the one frigging me with the soap. I couldn’t even
focus my tear filled eyes on him as I thrashed about in the tub,
shrieking like a banshee. He was grinning at me; mocking me for
displaying such orgiastic, depraved pleasure. My bottom lip
quivered; my mouth opened and closed like a goldfish trying to
gulp air. When he stuffed the bar of soap right into my pussy, I
spasmed wildly and tried clambering up his arm. Not to escape,
but to try and get to my handbag. I wanted to show him the large
black dildo; I wanted him to fuck me with it instead of the
soap, which felt small and insignificant by comparison. My mind
was spinning out of control. I felt a desperate craving to have
his cock in my mouth again; to reciprocate the sublime pleasure
he was giving me. Simply put, I wanted it all!

The orgasm he set off in me almost knocked me unconscious, such
was its impact. However, once my body determined there was
nothing left to to give, I broke down into a tearful fit of
giggles; not knowing whether to laugh or sob fitfully with the
abject shame I suddenly felt. What was worse was the sudden
realization there was no rational explanation for the way I’d reacted.
It was all purely basic; an animal instinct; it was his power to bring
me off like that; to make me feel dirty; to make me feel like some
cheap, trailer park whore.

There’s much more to this story and what’s happened in the hours
since then, but I’m back in my office now trying to make sense
of everything before heading home, back to my husband and the
life I used to know but which now feels suddenly distant…

—
ser-en-dip-i-ty (n) The faculty of making fortunate discoveries by
accident.