I recognized the familiar smell to be baby oil and was immediately blown away by the feeling of two of the most exquisite hands caressing the oil into my skin. She didn’t miss an inch, she even made me lift my feet up so she could do the soles – I felt like I had violated her even more than I had planned when I knew that this was an intimate thing that she must do for her husband. My guilt was promptly forgotten when I felt her oiled fingers rake over my balls just before she took hold of my cock with both hands. I caught my breath wanting to say something, but knowing better. I let her stroke me just a couple of times before the need for her body overtook me. I took her by the shoulders and turned her around and then guided her hands to the tiled wall of the shower. She understood what I wanted to do and I felt her butt push back at my cock.I reached an eager hand between her legs and heard a little gasp from her as I ran a finger right into her heavily oiled pussy lips.This was. At one point, as I looked up from my book, she looked up simultaneously and our eyes met. I intended to smile at her, but before I could even begin to, she looked completely shocked and a bit flustered. She instantly looked down at the magazine in her lap and her brow furrowed. In seconds she looked angry. I was shocked as well. I had never looked directly into her eyes before, and I had certainly never made an overt acknowledgement of her presence during all the time we had ridden together. Her angry appearance embarrassed me. I felt my face flush and I knew I was showing the telltale redness that itself worsened my embarrassment. The remainder of that trip to 116th Street was agony for me as I tried to focus on my textbook. When the doors opened at 116 I jumped up and ran for the exit. I have no idea what she did; I avoided looking at her at all. I did, however, keep my appointment to masturbate. I have a routine. My OCD is a convenience at times; it keeps me on schedule, at least..
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