When I left the salon today, my fury with the stylist knew no bounds. She always second-guessed my preferences. There was never anything to be done for it than to argue with her each time I went, and swearing to myself I would find someone else. Today the result was particularly hideous. My only option was to shampoo and start all over and pray that the shower would help drain the anger and frustration from my body. Turning on the water, I began to take off my clothes. After a few moments I realized what the best thing for me would be – a gi-normous orgasm! That was when I began the little trick that always made me hot. It started with me imagining what it would feel like if my pussy could “breathe” -- flexing my muscles inside and out as if I were inhaling and exhaling from my sex. Each respiration was like the spasm when my nipples were touched or my hair was pulled or my pussy was stroked. As the water warmed up, I stood there naked and began to touch myself. The "breathing" movements were palpable and my clit was firm, buried in its soft nest. The water had been warm for a while so I stepped in the shower and let the comfort of it sluice over me. And then the last remnants of the afternoon dissolved when the products in my hair melted. I resumed "breathing," touching myself, letting the relaxing water soak my face, neck, shoulders, down my chest and over my breasts, running like a downspout over my nipples. The feeling was incredible, especially when the deluge pounded directly on my breasts. I adjusted the flow to a very sharp, needle-fine spray; pricking and nibbling against my pink peaks. The water pins almost hurt until I grasped my entire nipple and squeezed firmly ... removing the sting and replacing it with a tremendous pull at my core, elongating my bud, which stood prouder and deeper in color. Next, I lathered a cloth and began to wash the outer areas of my pussy right along the panty line, a quarter of the way down the inside of my thighs and then around to my hips and cheeks. Everything was wonderfully soapy, soft and very lush-feeling. . . almost luxurious. Taking opposite corners of the washcloth, I stretched it and began to run it forwards and backwards from the top of my slit, all the way up between my ass cheeks. So erotic! Nothing went untouched. Back and forth in long, languorous strokes, I played the cloth like a bow across violin strings. Other times I held it firm and glided my body along the taut cloth. Often, the timing or pressure points of these long, sling-like strokes needed adjusting depending on where I wanted the most stimulation. I could cum this way -- but not today. I moved my right foot to the rest I used when I shaved my legs, allowing me to open farther. Pressure could now be placed on one side of my clit and then on the other as the cloth stroked its long journey around and between my legs. My hips started to move against what I was doing for myself. I was very close to cumming, so I stopped, pulled the cloth slowly out from between my legs, and drew it across my clit in one, long slow final stroke. The heat and tension built and rapidly escalated to towering sensations. Beginning in,

around and beneath my clit, the shocks began to flicker. My breathing froze to concentrate on the feelings -- but today I brought myself to the edge and stopped! 

I stood there, continuing to "breathe," abating my orgasm, sighing deeply and calming myself. 

Picking up the shampoo, pouring some into my trembling hands, I began to lather my hair, all the while concentrating on performing my deep "breathing” exercises. I happily finished sudsing my hair, applied and rinsed the conditioner and proceeded to wash the rest of my body – using an exfoliating scrub which left my skin fresh, invigorated and tingling. 

With my foot on the rest, I shaved first my right then my left leg and last my pussy. After lathering, I sailed the careful teasing strokes of the razor along my skin, the crease of my leg and the sides and tops of my outer lips. My fingers trailed behind each path of the blade to make sure no area was missed. Gentle, tantalizing movements, dreaming that my hands belonged to someone else. Exploring, inspecting, probing and pulling my skin, lips, folds, and fingers quickly slipping into my vagina -- making my mouth water with anticipation. Yet again, the shocks and heat began to inch their way to my spine ... pausing, I slowed it down and then re-launched the journey of strange hands discovering me. Sizzle and fire arcing but not connecting ... I wouldn’t allow it and groaned agonizingly to myself. But I knew I did this for the best! Finally, I rinsed -- as slick and smooth as wax on a dance floor, waiting for the music to start so that I could finish what I had begun. 

The shower had two heads in it. One was stationary and adjustable for specific types of water flow, like the needle spray. The other was hand-held with fewer adjustments, but it did have the critical one, pulse. Picking up the hand-held wand, I rinsed myself, then switched the water flow to pulse -- hard pulse. 

The showerhead was a comfortable distance away from my clit as the pulsing stroked me and the water began to work its magic. Every few moments the showerhead had to be moved a bit closer to adjust the intensity of the vibration. Almost immediately I could feel an orgasm building. The arc, lightning and sizzling connections I had disrupted earlier came on full force; based at my core, in my gut and around, over and underneath my clitoris. This release rocketed once quickly to its explosion. My cry was almost painful as it bounced off the tile walls, echoing in my ears. Strangely, I didn't recognize it as my voice but I did not stop.

The water, both soft and hard pressing against me, fucked me repeatedly and my fingers, no longer gentle or a part of me, pounded in and out of my pussy. Pulled onward, I was being immersed in a raging orgasm; one powerful enough to immediately shrink my world. The length and intensity of it were matched by a yet louder, drawn out, wail that came as the symphony overtook me, washing every nerve ending in my body with its long, oscillating wave. 

My head was spinning, thighs trembling and knees weakened from fighting to remain upright. I stood and shook for several lengthy moments with my hand on the shower wall, propping myself up, until I could at least begin to come down. Even then itwas difficult to get my muscles to move to turn off the water. Lurching I grabbed for my towels burying my face in the fragrant softness and stepped out of the shower.

In a slightly swerving, listing gait, I moved to the dressing table bench and carefully lowered myself to sit; allowing my lungs to re-fill while my head hung low. Marveling at the experience, I touched myself once more to see if I was wet from the water itself or from my orgasms. 

So... I sit here now, dry but wet still -- thinking of how my pussy can “breathe,” how that delicious water fucked me and how this is the best solution I have ever found for a bad hair day.