GITJ Post 346: A Sunday at Melissa's, p4

The clock was chiming again as the two of us climbed the stairs. Well, she was climbing. I was in her arms. It was, I dunno, nine or something, maybe eleven. I was already exhausted from the morning I’d had. In the past hour I’d found my phone busted, been wrung dry by a hand job into the pool, and - oh yeah - nearly drowned. So, I couldn’t help but take the chance to close my eyes, and  luxuriate in her embrace as she carried me. Melissa was so strong, so confident, and this weekend I’d gotten to a place where I could put my pride aside and more easily accept her comforts. But, as relaxed as I was, the first bell toll caused my eyes to shoot open. It felt like it was ringing for me.

“Where’s that clock?” I asked, curious. Hearing it from the kitchen earlier, I would have sworn it was in the great room near the stairs. Now that we were on the stairs, it sounded like it could be coming from the kitchen.

“Shhh, don’t worry about the clock,” Melissa hushed me, smiling down at me warmly, strangely. Anyway, she was bringing me back up to the bedroom for a shower, to clean off the chlorine and whatever remnants of last night still clung crusty to me. And, despite the heat of her body, a cold chill still ran down my spine. I needed a warming up.

Quietly we passed down the open balcony hall that overlooked the great room, through her bedroom and into her en-suite bath. It was done simply but elegantly in creamy stone tiles, with natural light coming in from an overhead skylight. A glass wall separated a walk-in shower from which chrome fixtures and a huge rainhead shower glistened.

With me still in her arms, she turned on the shower and let the water warm. “Can you stand by yourself?” she asked.

“I think so,” I answered, without really even considering why she’d asked. Did you expect me to forget how to stand? Walk? Maybe not too unreasonable; I’d apparently just lost the ability to swim.

With great care she placed me down, and stepped me backwards under the deluge from above. My legs actually were shaky but ahhhhh the water was nice, perfectly warm. Patterned marble tiles were underfoot, larger stone ones lining the walls, while a chrome drain whisked water away. Melissa smiled at my obvious pleasure, still wrapped in a figure-hugging white towel and matching turban. She stood just outside the shower stall, on the other side of a low stone threshold.

“So,” she began, her eyes having already drifted up from my feet, “Do you want to wash yourself or do I get to bathe you?”

“Um,” I started, eyeing the vast selection of gels, shampoos and other assorted bottles and tubes which lined an inset shelf to my left. I was confused by my options and the whiffs I got of her perfume reminded me of how good she was at being a woman, and how inept a man I was.

Was this pheromone 0001.55.6344.gf, .6388.dd or .6349.gd you were using on me at that moment? Maybe a cocktail? Remind me to ask you later.

I crossed my hands in front of me, unsure of myself. “Can you help?” I asked.

“Of course, sweetie,” she beamed, and reached for the handheld spray attachment mounted to the wall. She turned on its water, checked its temperature, and crouched so she could begin to shower my body with its firm spray. “Is this coming out too hard, baby?” she asked, with earnest concern, looking up at me with honest eyes, “I can turn it down if it’s too much.”

“n-no it’s okay,” I answered, glimpsing down between her full breasts. Her towel was tied at the chest, and cleavage jiggled. As if enjoying the attention, she smiled as she adjusted the pressure and temperature making it just that much better. The spray from the shower wand was strong, but felt nice down my chest, up under my arms as she lifted my right wrist, then the left. It felt particularly good when - nnngh - she passed it between my legs, sprayed it up into my nethers. It gave me a jolt of pleasure, the jet pulsing into my scrotum and, goddamn me, I felt a new erection start to swell. The overhead water continued to wash over me as well.

“Well, tell me if it’s too much,” she said, the evenness in her voice and straight face belying the fact that she was obviously paying special attention to my manhood, exciting it with the handheld spray. She tweaked the water pressure again, adjusted the temperature.

My cock responded. Oh my god, that feels amazing, even better.

“That okay?” she asked.

“y-y-yes…” I managed, trying to keep from writhing in pleasure.

“You sure?” she pressed, “You seem so sensitive. If you're uncomfortable I can always just sit you up next to the sink, scrub you up with a washcloth instead.”

What, and make me feel even more like a newborn? “N-no I’m fine,” I assured, my cock betraying my thoughts with an excited throb. She proceeded to firmly spritz my whole body with the wand, passing it up my sides, over my arms and legs. Down my chest and belly. My boner was on its way back, at half-swollen mast, gradually growing under the warm attention of her shower and the tingles it brought. It felt great against my cock, as she paid it special service, watching it with curiosity as it  bobbed and swayed slowly hardening further under the pressure. “That feels really nice,” I admitted, suddenly craving her hand, or a mouth.

With a wry smile she looked up at me before standing, to her full height. Her breasts were right in front of my face. She replaced the spray wand to its wall mount, though water still jetted from its nozzles. I tried to watch her face, read her expression, but my attention was immediately pulled toward her hands as she undid the big knot in her towel, which bound it to her chest. With more than a small amount of drama the towel fell, revealing her naked body. I couldn’t help but groan she was so perfect, her curves so jaw-droppingly stunning. By god her waist was small, her hips so flared. Well-trimmed womanhood lay between the cleft of thick, powerful thighs and legs which would shame a racehorse. Her tummy was softly trim and tanned, navel formed to vertical perfection,  the hint of her abdominals rippling beneath taut, flawless skin. And above, god help me, her breasts hung huge, giant globes just two shades paler than the rest of her, each a firm, ovate melon with large brown nipples, tan aureoles. My eyes looked up into enormous, monumental underboob, and saw the faint pattern of blue veins just under her skin’s surface. She was huge, huge! How tall had she become?! My god, I felt tiny.

She giggled, amused by my awestruck expression, and pulled the towel from her hair. She shook her dark mane, semi-dry, and looked back down at me. She watched as I backed up as she stepped into the shower. Warm water from the ceiling now flowed over both of us. She reached for a bottle of shampoo, and squeezed some into her hand. With the other, she turned me around, and from behind her hands began rubbing my hair. I could feel her fingers firmly scrubbing my scalp, massaging shampoo into my sodden hair, a lather foaming up. My eyes fluttered under the indulgence of her attention as she worked it into my head, cleaning everything around my ears, rubbing the back of my neck with frothy shampoo.

To rinse, she pulled me back a bit, more fully under the rainhead and began to speak again to me. “So, tell me. How do you feel about our relationship dynamic now?” she asked, shielding my eyes with a hand over my brow, “Hm?”

“Wh-what do you mean?” I asked, water sputtering from my lips. I was a little surprised by the suddenness of her question.

“Can’t you feel it changing again?” she said plainly, rubbing my hair under the showerfall to clear it of soap. “Because I can,” she continued, as she reached for something else behind her, from the shower shelf. She was squeezing something else from a bottle. “I can feel myself becoming more dominant over you, again. But in a like big mama-bear kinda way.” She was rubbing what sounded like gel between her hands, frothing it up. “And you’re getting more submissive, more dependent on me, weaker.”

“Wow, uh…” I began, not really knowing what to say. Whatever pride I still had, whatever vestiges of male ego and authority still rattled away inside my shattered soul rankled a bit at her suggestions…even though my cock again betrayed me with a throb. Yes, yes, yes. I was in a tough time, in life. Struggling a bit with my health, my sense of self worth. I’d found her, and I’d latched on a bit, I admit, to her strength. She was an entrancing beauty, to boot, young and vibrant, and it had been easy to allow myself to fall into her shadow, to let her establish herself as the stronger partner despite her age. I was content to watch her bloom bigger and bigger and more gorgeous seemingly every day while I seemed to recede. But still, her words stung a bit. “I dunno, about that, real-”

With shower gel in her hands, she’d reached around and grabbed my cock with her left hand. If it wasn’t at full stiffness before, now it certainly was. My voice, stopped in my throat, became little more than a guttural whimper as lightning coursed up my body from her grip. She lathered up my erection, then her  hand passed dutifully under my sac to clean me underneath.

“You were saying..?” she prompted me, a gentle squeeze to my testicles reminding me who was in charge.

Yeah, uh, nope. I was speechless, struck, and she knew it. My body quivered and quaked, threatened to collapse at the knees as she kept up the pressure on my tender gonads. She held me for a bit and then - pleased by my acquiescent silence - moved her hand back up for a stroke up my shaft.

“Good boy,” she purred.

Her big, slippery left hand worked my cock with slick expertise. She knew exactly how to keep me frozen, paralyzed, quivering at her touch. Her other hand, also slathered with frothy gel, now ran down my backside, under and then up, between the cheeks of my butt. I gasped, flinched, and tried to keep from crying out as she lathered me up in there as well. She ran her hand up and down, in and out, gently but with confident command, as her left hand still stroked my erection. This…that…this was almost too much. I writhed, twisted, and began to pull away from her.

"Ugh, such a squirmy wormy," she said, giggling. I could hear her eyes rolling in mock annoyance, and she gripped my cock tighter, to bring me to heel. "Will you settle down and stop being such a baby?” She paused for a moment, then, gears turning. "Hmm..." she said, a playful smirk brightening her voice, "Forget that. Give in to those urges.” She began to stroke my cock again, and her voice dropped to an indulgent, baby-doll coo. “You can be as much of a baby as you want,” she said, as if now talking to a small child, “I promise mama will take good care of you."

Did she feel me shiver? Did she feel me shake? She heard me whine, for sure, because she began to giggle. While her left kept a grip on my cock her right hand left my butt and she spun me around by the shoulder to push me against the tile of the wall. The stone, for the second, was a shock of cold. Hand still on my shoulder, leaning in over me, Melissa bent me at the knees a bit and then put her right palm on the wall above me. She dropped her shoulder a touch, bringing her huge right breast to bump into my face.

“Y-you have really big breasts…” I found myself saying, in awe at its size as she pulled it away, just a bit, so I could stare at its tumescence from below.

“Mmhm I do…” Melissa chuckled, her great, wet, pale breast wobbling with her laughter. It was, my god, maybe twice the size of my head, if not more. She waited for me to continue, to see if I had any other observations, but seemed to be pleased with the quieting effect it had on me. Hypnotizing, isn’t it little man?

Yes. I watched water streaming off it, water running over her shoulder from above, down her breasts, over her nipple in thick rivulets. I saw how her areola was swelling, the little bumps of Montgomery glands forming, her nipple thickening in the warm, warm water.

“oh my god….” I groaned, as I watched the dribbles, rivers.

“Thirsty?” she asked, from above, “Open up.”

Without a thought I complied, opening my mouth as she continued to stroke my cock below. Like a needy bird I eyed the warm water streaming off of her breast above me.

Adjusting her shoulder scantly, coming in closer, she directed the rivulets onto my face, splashing onto my forehead and eyes, running down my nose and cheeks. She shifted again, and I turned my head to the left, so her wet nipple now dribbled everything right to my open mouth from inches away. I gurgled, and took it, and swallowed.

“There you go, cutie..!” she giggled, and watched as I opened my mouth again for more shower water, warm from the rainhead, warm from her skin. “Drink up, that’s right, drink up…”

I held my mouth open, longer, longer, let it fill, until water bubbled out. Then I closed, gagging a bit into another swallow, warmth down my throat. I swear I tasted her in it, and I reopened.

She came in closer, dropping, bringing her nipple now right to my lips, to my open mouth. I closed, latching loosely onto her warm nipple, water still coming into my mouth from her areola, I sucked and drank the shower’s water now directly from her breast, from her skin. I swallowed, and gulped, awkwardly and clumsily. She pushed her engorged nipple more into my mouth, gently forcing it open further for me to accept her tit. The water was now dribbling around my lips as I let her push her nipple in. Whatever this was, whatever game she was playing, I was not resisting, I was only letting it happen.

Nipple in my mouth, I lapped at it, I suckled water from it. She took, then, the handheld spray and adjusted the stream’s volume so it gurgled water out rather than sprayed, and layed it atop her right breast, near her shoulder. Water now came down to me in a thicker flow, burbling and bubbling around my mouth, running over my nose and cheeks. She was giggling again, and I was sucking and drinking as best I could, mouthing at her nipple and gargling the warm water from it. It was thick with her pheromones, now I was sure, and instincts inside me made me latch on tighter, not wanting to ever leave this position.

“Oh, Jayyyyheyheyheyheyyyyyy…!” she giggled and purred, cooing down to me, trying her best not to just  give in and squash my face with her tit, “You’re making me feel like a real mommmyyyyyyyyy…” Rather than plaster me with her breast, mush my head into the wall, she wanted to let me keep water-nursing, play-suckling from her. Go, baby, go, drink up, drink up from me. Her giggles had faded, replaced by little groans.

Water flowed into my mouth, when I would come for breath, and it gave me life. I drank, I drank and I suckled and drank. I felt Melissa starting to tremble in arousal above me and it was only then that I realized holy shit holy shit…her hand…her hand…I’m about to come.

I fought it back but nnngh oh my god I was close, it was coming. My hand reached for her, and found her womanhood between her legs. I cupped it, stroked up just once and then she shuddered. All it took was one stroke, fingers already soaked. She had been leaning forward more, now unable to keep her ample tits from plastering my head into the wall, and as I suckled water from her she was coming, orgasming, shaking and pushing me harder into the wall as she groaned. I came, then, too, in a burst and a muffled bark into her tit worried even in my climax that I might both smother and drown. Or I might be head-crushed to a pulp or fall to the floor as my legs trembled and gave out from under me.  The weight of Melissa's chest was really the only thing keeping me standing. My panicked moans resonated through her boobs only increasing her pleasure as her hand continued to move firmly along my shaft. My jism had splashed first against her upper hip and thigh, a pulse, and then another and another and another, each washed down her leg by the water warm flowing down her, around us, down our bodies.

After a minute, a few wet damp tender moments in which we pleasured one another, my hand on her, hers on me, her breast in my face and nipple in my mouth as our climaxes waned, she pulled me away. Warm water still washed us as we basked in the afterglow, her hair was dark and wet over her shoulders and face. “Oh my God, Jay…” she breathed, chest heaving, looking down at me as if with new eyes. The shower wand had been dropped, forgotten, dangling from the wall on its chrome hose, gurgling out water still.

I looked up at her, blinking shower water from my eyes. I didn’t know how to react, I just looked at her. I was so scared of what this meant for our relationship.

“Stay here,” she said, finally, turning off the water and turning to step from the shower. She was retrieving two huge new, white towels from a rack on the wall. One she draped over my head and shoulders, its long folds reaching well down past my waist, while she dried herself with the other. Motionless I watched her, entranced by both the impressive muscles under her smooth, perfect skin and the soft contours and jiggles of her body’s curves. She finished with herself quickly, and then turned to reach down and place her towel around the one already covering me, wrap them both tightly around my entire body, my arms bound to my sides, until nearly all that showed of me was my face and maybe my feet sticking out the bottom. She then swept me up into her strong arms and carried me into the bedroom.

I know no man can really remember what it was like when he was an infant wrapped in blankets and cradled in his mother's arms. I certainly did not - I barely remembered my mother at all - and yet, completely swaddled in those huge, soft towels and cuddled securely against her naked chest with my head tucked against her strong shoulder, looking up in amazement at those beautiful, larger-than-life features looming so close above my own, that's exactly how I felt. Her smile was wide, warm, benevolent and in that moment I wanted nothing more than to be hers, to be held and loved and cared for by this magnificent giantess.  That she seemed more than human, a goddess of power and beauty, was beginning to be less and less of an exaggeration. To have my body literally melt into hers and become one with hers forever would be a dream come true.

She carried me to a large, soft chair in the corner of her bedroom and sat down in it, placing me on her naked lap. With my head still tucked against her shoulder, my entire body still swaddled, she dried my face and hair with a corner of the towel. Then, as I fell deeper and deeper under the spell of the warmth and softness of her naked body, she dried the rest of me with little pats and hugs through the towels encasing my body.

“Do you see this, do you see how we are here, you and me?” she finally spoke to me, “This is right. This is how it’s meant to be.”

I looked up at her and blinked, unable to find any of the words I needed to say. I felt her left arm reach under me and lift. Cradling me now in her arms, she gently lowered me down to rest my head on her huge right breast. I looked up at her from her boob, my left cheek near her nipple.

“I could be good at this. I could be very, very good at this,” she said to me, adjusting my body in her strong arms, “All you need to do is want it, and let me grow. Let me grow into it.”

Did I know what she meant? Did I really know, understand, comprehend what she meant? I don’t know if I did, but I felt it. I felt the bond between us stronger now than ever.

“So is it? Is it what you want? Tell me. Tell me this is what you want.”

Of course it is.

“y-yes…” I said.

“Yes what, sweetie?” she prompted. She needed to hear me say it.

“this is what I want…”

“Good boy…” she nearly groaned, and - I feel it changing again, already, inside my body - turned my face into her breast. On instinct I opened, took her nipple in, and latched on….

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Thanks muchly to ResistanceIsFutile, editor in residence. Hope y'all enjoyed; it may be a little wait before the next. Nothing disastrous but busy in RL and a bit behind on the writing schedule.