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The Fluffy Towel

I watched him soap himself through the glass cubicle of the shower, one hundred and fifty-seven pounds, five foot eleven inches (plus another delicious eight and a quarter where it matters most) of glistening wet male. I wanted to be those hands slowly running the Lynx Dark Temptation Shower Gel infused flannel over that firm, lithe body.  Oh God, I wanted to be the hands now holding those delicious, delicious eight inches, pushing back that foreskin and carefully soaping that slightly bulbous head!

Minutes later I watched the water cascade joyously onto his head and run rapturously over every inch of his body and realized for the first time that water must be female, or gay, the way it was caressing him with no shame.

He switched off the shower and reached for me.  Immediately I was in ecstasy.  I teased his jet black hair, relaxed my fibres so I was extra soft on his face, naughtily caught at his small male nipples, snagged the light smattering of hair on his broad chest, lovingly cupped his big pendulous balls and then...oh God...then that gloriously thick cock...

Dizzily I returned to my senses and found myself wet, draped carelessly over the rail and smelling of him.


Stanley walked into the nightclub and waited a minute for his eyes to adjust to the dimness before looking around for an empty table to seat the woman at his side.  All eyes were on them.  He didn't have to look at the faces around him to know that.  It wasn't arrogance that brought this knowledge, but an understanding of human nature.  Most of the people would be watching Claudia, the men with lust and the women with either admiration or envy.  But others would be looking at him, trying to fathom what it was about him that attracted her to him.  Men would be assessing their chances of being able to steal her away from him by the end of the night.  Women would be wondering which of the unseen qualities he possessed, money or a big cock.

Claudia was the kind of woman who attracted men of every race because she was a mixture of several: African, Indian, Japanese and white, and yet didn't fit the mould of any in particular.  Her big curly brown Afro was retro, a style choice that few women would dare make and yet it made her seem ahead of fashion instead of behind it.  Her voluptuous body also defied convention: 38DD breasts tapering into a small waist before flaring into full hips and a high, rounded ass.  Tonight she was dressed in a body-hugging silk red jumpsuit which shimmered under the disco lights as they moved towards an empty table that Stanley had spotted.

They finished two bottles of white wine between them as they danced mainly to Lovers' Rock.  Stanley, in the UK from St Lucia on a six-month stay with his elderly father, moved a bit differently to the British men and women dancing around them, but Claudia matched his moves easily.  In three-inch heels she was the perfect height for his hard cock to rub against her clit as they danced.  He rubbed it constantly, anticipating that she would be dripping wet by the end of the evening and ready to give him some pussy as soon as he'd walked her the short distance from the club to her house.


He walked into his room an hour after leaving the club, his cock as hard as a rock.  Claudia was a cock-teaser of the highest order!  Yes, when he had met her six weeks ago he'd told her about his woman, Rosalind, waiting for him back home in St Lucia to whom he'd promised to remain faithful.  And yes, he'd agreed then with Claudia that the two of them could only be ‘friends', but how could the woman have rubbed herself against his hard cock all night and then just quickly kissed him goodnight and closed her front door in his face?

He knew that there was no way she was going to sleep tonight without satisfaction of some kind.  She'd been the one to position her pussy right on top of the head of his cock, unerringly finding it through the barrier of their clothes and grinding herself against it.  She'd been the one who had made him almost come several times with her hard grinding.

She'd also been the one to tell him quite firmly as she closed the door that she didn't want to fuck another woman's man.  She probably had one of those vibrators or dildo things that women in this country kept in their lingerie drawers, or sometimes in plain sight with no embarrassment or worry at them being discovered or seen.

Stanley had kept his promise to Rosalind for four months, but celibacy was killing him!  London seemed to be filled with beautiful, eager women who all wanted a taste of his West Indian cock as soon as they realized he was a stranger in town, slipping their numbers into his pockets and begging him to call.  He wished now that he had kept at least one of those number.  He desperately needed some release tonight.

Stripping quickly, he took his hard cock in his right hand, looked at it proudly and smiled.  At forty-five he didn't get the instant hard-ons he used to as a sixteen-year-old, but he was able to maintain them for longer.  His orgasms weren't as frequent or as plentiful either, but they were more controlled and intense than in his youth.  He'd thought that he could easily endure six months without sex when his cousin had advised him to come to the UK to spend time with his ailing father, but it was turning out much harder to do than he'd thought.

He had so looked forward to fucking Claudia, pushing those big creamy breasts together and rubbing his cock back and forth between them; taking her from behind, her plump ass pressed against him; throwing her firm thighs up over his shoulders and holding on to her small waist as he gave her the full length of his cock...the damn woman's body was made for sex.

But so was Rosalind's, he acknowledged.

He closed his eyes and thought of her as he stroked himself, glad now that Claudia hadn't let him into her house or have some pussy.  He had never been able to lie to Rosalind and no strange pussy would have compensated for losing hers.  It was a special pussy, so tight it had taken considerable effort to breach after the two-year gap between her last man and him.  It still had its natural triangle of hair in an age where women waxed, trimmed and shaved all or most of their God-given bounty.  He preferred things left as nature intended.  He was old-fashioned in that respect.

Rosalind was petite, the top of her head came to just above his nipples.  It was easy to lift her and position her as he wanted.  And almost every time he fucked her he had to patiently take her through the special finger-fucking routine they had established because she was still tight, even after constant fucking.  He had fucked many women, but her intoxicating, delicately musky pussy was the best he had ever encountered.  It always felt like it was trying to repel him.  He loved the fight it put up and loved the fact that he conquered it every time.

Closing his eyes, he tightened his fist around his cock and tried to simulate her tightness as he continued to jerk off.

A minute later he growled in frustration and opened his eyes to look around the room.  He needed some wetness.  He would bruise his cock if he used the grip he needed without lubrication.  But other than body lotion there was nothing that he could use in the bedroom.  Purposefully, he marched into the bathroom to lather his cock.

I woke up as he switched on the light and watched him stride into the bathroom.  Oh, fuck me!  His glorious cock was standing straight out in front of him.

Stanley turned on the mixer tap and let the water run as he lathered his hands.  Then he took his cock in hand and started to pump vigorously back and forth.

"Fuck me instead, please!" I begged him.

"Who is that?"  Stanley opened his eyes and looked around the room in alarm.

"Me, over here," I answered in my sweetest voice.

Stanley couldn't see anyone and his heart started to race.  He had heard of ghost lovers, but had never believed the rumours.

Usually it was male ghosts who fucked women at night in their sleep.  He had never heard of a female ghost lover and he was certainly not going to fuck any man, ghost or otherwise.

But the voice was definitely female...and suddenly he realized the potential of the situation.  He wouldn't be cheating if he fucked a ghost.

"Over there where?" he asked.

"It's me, Stanley," I answered, my edges curling in anticipation.  "Your towel."

"I didn't know that towels could talk!" he said in astonishment.

"We can talk," I confirmed.  "And more importantly we can be fucked.  You rubbed your wet, hard, muscular body all over me after your shower and turned me on so much I couldn't help but come.  I've been waiting all night for you to return, hoping that you would make me come again."

"But how can I fuck you?" Stanley asked.

"It's very easy," I told him, fluffing my fibres to look even more appealing.  "You wrap my softness around your hardness and rub until you cum."

He grabbed me and I went willingly.

"That's right, Stanley," I told him in approval as he draped me over his cock.  "Now fuck me, baby.  Fuck me hard."

Stanley, obedient man, fucked me as hard as he could and when he finally came, I gratefully absorbed every drop of his thick creamy cum into my wanton, absorbent warmth.


© 2006 Lexy Harper


Do you humans ever take the time to wonder about us inanimate objects?  Do you realize that we watch you as you watch us?  Do you know that we have feelings too?  Do you know, for instance, that when you stick a dildo up your pussy or ass that it gets as much pleasure fucking you as you get from being fucked?  Sometimes we inanimate objects laugh among ourselves at you humans and your trusting naivety.  We could take over your world if we wanted to.