The disappearance of Amber's body heat reminded him that he was wet, the air wasn't exactly super-heated, and he was about to get fucked. Again. After asking for it. Amber's reassurance wasn't nearly as comforting as she probably thought, even though he knew it was true. What stopped him from stopping her was her soft, careful voice, calling him baby. Foreman had no idea what it meant to her, not after she'd gotten so upset the first time he'd used it. But in her mouth, he found it calming, the same way her hands were when she massaged his shoulders or cupped his head as she kissed him. Damn irrational, but it kept him from screwing things up in the bare minute she spent getting the lotion she'd promised.
Foreman raised his arms, resting his wrists against the upper edge of the shower door, and leaned forward. The movement stretched out his lower back and his delts. The physical loosening of his muscles left him warm and eager, the stretch seeming to spill a lava flow of desire through him. He smirked at Amber's ass as she crossed the small space, rummaging in her bag, turning back to him with a condom and some lotion. The slow, appreciative evaluation that she gave him as she turned back made him want to stretch more, show off somehow. His cock twitched, anticipating the slick grip of her hand again. Not to mention whatever else she planned to do to him. Foreman grinned, confidence from her words and hesitation from what he knew she'd want combining in a strange mixture of arousal and nerves low in his stomach. It felt good, though, the ambivalence bringing a delicious edge to the sensation. He backed up easily as Amber urged him back to the wall, his eyes running slowly down her body, then back up to catch her intent expression.
He sighed as she moulded herself to him. Kissing her languorously, Foreman matched her movements, thrusting against her stomach, the easy pleasure of the friction easing his anxiety. What he was thinking, Christ, he didn't know, and even if he did, he wasn't sure how to tell her. "Good," he started, since it was true. His eyes flew open, wide, to catch the sight of her uncapping the lotion and spurting some, creamy and white, into her palm; it looked fucking erotic, and Foreman's breath grew even more shallow. "I, uh. Want to feel you. Your fingers." Steeling himself, he added, "Nervous." Not that there was any fucking reason to be. Why he couldn't just let it be what it was? It was what he wanted, and Amber had never once backed down when Foreman finally let her know what was on his mind. He closed his eyes for a moment, then met Amber's gaze. "Fuck me."
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Foreman raised his arms, resting his wrists against the upper edge of the shower door, and leaned forward. The movement stretched out his lower back and his delts. The physical loosening of his muscles left him warm and eager, the stretch seeming to spill a lava flow of desire through him. He smirked at Amber's ass as she crossed the small space, rummaging in her bag, turning back to him with a condom and some lotion. The slow, appreciative evaluation that she gave him as she turned back made him want to stretch more, show off somehow. His cock twitched, anticipating the slick grip of her hand again. Not to mention whatever else she planned to do to him. Foreman grinned, confidence from her words and hesitation from what he knew she'd want combining in a strange mixture of arousal and nerves low in his stomach. It felt good, though, the ambivalence bringing a delicious edge to the sensation. He backed up easily as Amber urged him back to the wall, his eyes running slowly down her body, then back up to catch her intent expression.
He sighed as she moulded herself to him. Kissing her languorously, Foreman matched her movements, thrusting against her stomach, the easy pleasure of the friction easing his anxiety. What he was thinking, Christ, he didn't know, and even if he did, he wasn't sure how to tell her. "Good," he started, since it was true. His eyes flew open, wide, to catch the sight of her uncapping the lotion and spurting some, creamy and white, into her palm; it looked fucking erotic, and Foreman's breath grew even more shallow. "I, uh. Want to feel you. Your fingers." Steeling himself, he added, "Nervous." Not that there was any fucking reason to be. Why he couldn't just let it be what it was? It was what he wanted, and Amber had never once backed down when Foreman finally let her know what was on his mind. He closed his eyes for a moment, then met Amber's gaze. "Fuck me."