"Phoebe" (part 2 of 2)
series m-solo f-solo voy

The draft had blown open the bathroom door; I had an unobstructed view of
the tiled shower stall, which seemed enormous. Phoebe, seemingly oblivious
to the open door, was standing in front of the stall and undressing. She
pulled the paint-stained T-shirt over her head, revealing gratifyingly
large, pendulous breasts with huge brown nipples. Then she unfastened the
cutoffs, and wiggled out of them slowly; they seemed a bit too small for
her. Her hips and buttocks were vast, but in perfect proportion to the rest
of her body. Her pubic hair, under the roll of her ample belly, was gray and
extended quite a bit to each side, but not very far up her abdomen. She
stood for a few moments, holding her hand in the shower to test the water
temperature; then she stepped into the stall.

My penis, which had begun to return to a flaccid state after I had stepped
behind the screen, abruptly became erect again. I stood silently watching as
Phoebe luxuriated under the shower, turning slowly to allow the water to
flow over her voluptuous body. Her eyes were closed.

I stood there, utterly baffled. Was this intentional? Did she open the door
herself? Does she mean for me to see her, as a response to my arousal during
the modeling? Perhaps the door had, in fact, simply blown open . . . yet how
could she have not felt the breeze on her body?

Why was the shower curtain open? Abruptly I realized that there was no
curtain; I could see either end of the curtain rod and nothing hung there,
not even a stray curtain ring. Did she expect me to join her in the shower?
I shook my head to clear it; no, I couldn't do that. If I was wrong about
this . . . I imagined her terrified screams as I appeared before her, naked
and lustful. That was enough to keep me rooted behind the screen.

Phoebe continued to move about under the shower. She vigorously soaped her
entire body with a loofah; then, to my astonishment, she began caressing
herself with one hand, stroking her huge breasts and tummy. Momentarily
forgetting where I was, I moved slightly out from behind the screen and
stood there, staring raptly. Without fully realizing what I was doing, I
took my erect penis in my hand and began massaging it gently.

Phoebe took hold of the small porcelain washcloth hanger to steady herself
as she gently tickled her soapy nipples into a firm state; then, her hand
slowly moved down her abdomen toward her pubic hair, stopping only
momentarily to swirl foamily around her navel. By this time I had stepped
completely out from behind the screen. Obviously, if Phoebe opened her eyes
she would see me as easily as I saw her, but I did not care; my arousal had
overcome my reason.

My breathing grew ragged as Phoebe momentarily moved her hand between her
legs. A few drops of pre-come emerged from my glans, and I quickly stroked
them down over the underside of my penis and increased my pace. Phoebe,
standing with her back to the flow of water, continued to move her
soap-covered hands over her naked body. She threw her head back and water
cascaded down over her shoulders and breasts.

In a matter of seconds, I reached the point of no return. As I watched the
sudsy water cascade over Phoebe's breasts and run down over her abdomen, I
was overcome with a shuddering climax. I took hold of the edge of the screen
for balance and struggled to stop myself from crying out as my white semen
spurted over the wooden floor of the studio.

I stood gasping for air for a few moments as the throbbing in my penis
slowly subsided. When my vision cleared, I saw Phoebe still standing in the
shower, her eyes still closed, as she rinsed the last of the soap from her
body. Suddenly I was seized with panic as I realized how close I had come to
discovery, and I quickly retreated behind the screen. I hurriedly pulled on
my pants and shirt as I heard the shower water stop. A hinge creaked, and I
risked a peek around the screen; the bathroom door had been pulled almost
closed, though I could still see a hint of flesh as Phoebe dried herself.

I pulled a handkerchief from my pocket and swiftly wiped up the spatters of
my semen on the floor; then I grabbed my shoes and socks and stole silently
into the living room. As I was tying my shoes I heard Phoebe's footsteps
receding a bit further down the hall, perhaps to a bedroom.

I sat perfectly still in the living room trying to get my breathing under
control. I had finally returned to a semblance of calm when Phoebe appeared
smilingly before me, wearing a blue work shirt and jeans. She was still
barefoot.

"What do you take in your tea, Scott?" she asked. Her face showed no sign of
guile; I was beginning to think that she really was unaware of my voyeurism.

"Just some sugar," I croaked.

Phoebe brought in a tea tray a few minutes later, and we sat across >from
each other sipping tea among her many paintings and drawings. We conversed
normally, without a sign of strain, and the orgasm I had experienced just
minutes earlier began to seem like some kind of waking dream. Phoebe asked
me about my job and my life here in town, and smiled knowingly as I
described the snowbound loneliness of the past months. She spoke of the
long, quiet years here at the outskirts of town--she had actually sought the
isolation in order to concentrate on her work. She didn't mention any
ex-husbands or other attachments, and I didn't ask. I found myself opening
up to Phoebe; she seemed so warm and empathic towards me that wondered how I
had survived in this town until now.

The landscape around the house began to grow dim, and I reluctantly got up
to leave; I didn't want to ride back to town in complete darkness. As I
stood on the porch, I remembered that we had not scheduled another posing
session. "Do you need me again soon?" I asked.

"Tomorrow's Sunday . . . how about three o'clock again?"

"Okay, I'll see you at three." I took a few steps, then turned and
hesitantly suggested, "Maybe we could have some dinner afterward, or
something?" I smiled hopefully.

"That would be nice," Phoebe said. She leaned against the doorjamb and
smiled. "Very nice."