Man Enough – Ignite Story

This was where it was always the clearest to him. The warm water droplets cascaded like a creek waterfall against his black skin. He stood there with his shower cap secured to his head, keeping his beginner dreads from getting wet. The tiled wall, it was white. He couldn’t understand why the color of the wall intrigued him all of a sudden. He stood there, letting the water fall on him without a word. Wouldn’t have mattered anyway; he was the only adult home. The kids were sound asleep, his wife at work, his mind filled with parched desires.

Those water droplets felt so good on his skin. They whispered secrets he wished her hands knew when they touched him. His mind wandered from his thoughts, trying to keep them from forming. He looked down near the trim plate and noticed the tiles looked whiter and smoother there, probably from being right underneath the head.

The head.

A kiss, that’s all he wanted right there, right on the head. Her smooth pink lips, her eyes closed as her lips contacted his hard dick. He blinked when his cock twitched. He looked down and realized his thoughts had started to make him show. His chest wasn’t breathing steadily as the thoughts of her lips came rushing back to him. The shower water didn’t help. Each drop felt like the kiss he was imaging so hard. Absentmindedly he watched as his black cock grew to a semi-hard state. It seemed an invitation to release himself from the desires of his heart. He didn’t even realize his hand had moved to his pec.

He tried to play it off as if he was just helping the water wash off any filth he had accumulated through the day. But his hand stretched out in the water; his palm rested on his chest, gliding down with the waves. He let out a sigh feeling his skin ignite under his own touch. God, did it feel good. This was what he wanted, the lightest of touches. His arms crossed each other, and he rubbed his fingertips down from his shoulders, uncrossing his arms as his hands found his chest again. His eyes were closed, his imagination was wild. He knew it was his own hands, the water helping them slide, but in his mind, he saw her freckled hands, small as they were, dance across his body. He could feel her behind him, her breath on his shoulders because he was taller than her. Her breast pressed firmly against his back, but they were still so soft, and he could feel his fingers grabbing onto them later. Her nipples were hard, and they gently bit him from behind as her hands found his nipples.

No!

He threw his hands down quickly off his nipples. He didn’t want to think that way. He was a man, and a man shouldn’t want that type of touch. He should want her to scratch and bite him, to grab on tight as he made her cum again and again and again. At least, that’s what he had always been taught. He wasn’t man enough if he wanted her to touch his freshly shaved balls with just her fingertips. He wasn’t man enough if he wanted her to lay on top of him and gently slide her pussy off his rippling hard cock. He felt the jolt in his cock again. The water was warm, and it made his dick wet and smooth, just like her moist pink pussy when he was buried deep inside of her.

His hands were wrapped around his cock for a moment, and he gripped tight, trying to remind himself this was what he wanted—aggression. But the moment he gripped his cock, it almost immediately went limp. Another sigh, this one filled with regret. He just wanted her to know how he felt. What he wanted.

Dominant to the core, he always got what he wanted in bed—except for this. He never had a problem telling her what to do, where to be, how to stand, where to bend, how long to hold it. She was as submissive as he was dominant. He held the keys, he drove, and she was along for the ride. He chose where to go, ran it by her, and then they took the trip together. How often had he come to this junction and not made the turn? He could be standing there with her lips wrapped around his cock. One of his favorite things was to see her slide his dick out of her mouth, stick out her tongue, and slap his shaft against it repeatedly while their eyes locked. That was one of those moments where he’d whisper in his mind for her to take her time and give him a long slow lick up his shaft and just lick the slit and around the head when she got to the tip. He wanted her to tease him, make him want to be back in her mouth, but only give him a little… taste, if you will. But regardless of the want, the surefire need he had, his lips wouldn’t form those words. And soon, she would just be shoving his cock back in her mouth, gagging on it lightly as she forced him to the back of her throat.

His cock stiffened at the thought of her on top of him, her hips roughly grinding back and forth. He imagined his hands finding her nipples and twisting until she cried out in ecstasy. When she was done with the grind, she’d lean down on top of him, her heaving, hot chest molding itself into his pecs. Feeling her weight on his body, he’d embrace it as he wrapped his arms around her. And she would keep the speed going; knees pressing against his thighs, she’d bounce that big peach ass up and down on his rock-hard black cock. He could almost feel her juices splashing down his legs as she continued to cream on him. Her moans would fill his ears, and he’d kiss her neck before biting down and sucking enough to make her cum but not to leave a hickey. Here was when he wanted her to slow down to the slowest speed possible. He would like to turn his head to face her and for them to watch each other. If only she would take her free hand and stroke his face, then kiss him tenderly. He’d love to feel her lips caressing his as her other lips stayed wrapped around his cock. At a painstaking pace, she’d move inch by inch.

The two of them would reach a 9.1 on the Richter scale as their bodies shook from the tease. He’d let her play her game. His tongue would find hers, and she’d continue to try and tease him but tremble as she paused with his tip about to slide out. That would be enough; he would end that silly little game. He’d suddenly roll the two of them over and slam right back into her pussy. She’d scream his pet name, which would only cause the blood to rush to his cock even more. His hands would find her wrists, and he’d hold her down and have his way with her, just the way she liked it.

He gasped as his eyes sprang open. He hadn’t even realized that he had closed them. The light on the ceiling of the shower seemed too bright, and his eyes hurt because he’d had them shut so tight. He sighed again, leaning against the wall and letting the lukewarm water run over his cock. He reached over and turned the knob to heat the water back up. Man enough. Could he still be man enough if he told her of his desires? What if he said he’d like her to be a little gentler with him sometimes so he could feel the impact of the softest touches, the slowest grinds, the lightest of kisses?

He recalled the first time he had told her to play with his nipples. Oh, they were a young married couple, barely a year into their marriage. She was kissing him all over, the feel of her soft pink lips rivaled only by her long dirty-blonde hair tickling his skin. As the trail of her kisses came back up his body, the words came out before he even had the chance to understand what he was asking. She had covered his chest everywhere but his nipples. He wanted to feel her kisses there and her hot wet tongue rolling around his areolas, to feel the aching as his nipples twisted into a hard nub begging for more.

She gave him the most curious of looks then, a look of shock that broke his forehead into a cold sweat as she asked him if he was serious. He almost didn’t say yes; he was glad he did. It felt like the lifeblood pumped through him anew, coursing through every vein and igniting nerve endings he didn’t even know he had. But that look she gave him, the words that left her mouth: “Are you serious?” He wouldn’t demand something so unconventional—unmanly—ever again.

He shook his head and looked around the shower, trying to remember how he had even gotten there. The steam rose against the white tiles and the see-through shower curtain. He grabbed his bath scrunchy and the bottle of body wash, shutting those feelings away from the forefront of his mind. He felt his cock start to soften, each pulse dropping it further and further into the flaccid state. Aggressively popping open the shower gel, he squeezed some out onto his dark blue scrunchy and placed the bottle back on the shower floor. Then he wet the scrunchy and started to scrub his body, his dark cock finally resting. He stared at the ceiling and ignored the light hiss from his still hard nipples as he rubbed over his chest. He tried and tried to force those thoughts out of his mind, but they kept reasserting themselves, reminding him of what he wanted to tell his wife to do to his body. But how could he tell her when she had already shown him what she thought of him. Her look at that vulnerable moment had said he wasn’t man enough.

He shook his head again and started to wash his penis, feeling a sense of gratitude as he scrubbed under his balls. He’d almost moved past those intrusive thoughts until he tilted his head back up from looking at his cock and noticed the label of his bottle. The brand name was there, written in red—as red as her nails on another night.

He was there before he knew it. The ceiling fan turned at its lowest setting, blowing the gentlest of breezes on the two of them. She’d sat near his feet, her hazel eyes holding the brightest of twinkles as she looked not at him but through him. It was as if she could see his desires clearly for the first time; he didn’t have to say a word, she just knew. She saw him naked, exposed, the little secrets he kept under lock and key from her were an open box full of goodies for her to play with.

Her hand rested on his thigh. She had just gotten her long acrylic nails done in red—one of his favorite colors to see on her. It was a fire truck red that set off the dark red of her hair she had dyed a week earlier. Her lips curled into a smile across her round face, and before he could ask what was on her mind, she began tapping her fingers against his inner thigh. 1-2-3-4. All those nails sent little prickles of endorphins through his system. 1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4. He felt his throat get tight as he tried to swallow his anticipation. She looked at him with the same sparkle in her eyes. Then she stopped tapping and began to move her hand up his thigh.

He tried to stifle the sound of ecstasy that left his mouth, but it was to no avail. She had him, she knew it, and he was going to lay there and feel the power the smallest touch could have on him. Her hand was so soft against him, but with each sequential movement, it was like needles of pleasure were piercing him and injecting the pheromones right into his blood vessels. His heart quickened when she lifted her palm and started to drag her nails across his sable skin. She wasn’t scratching him, just letting those bright red nails trail against him. He felt his whole body react to that touch; it shook and trembled. His cock already stood at attention and, try as he might, he couldn’t keep it from twitching.

He always hated how his toes curled at her touch, but there and then he couldn’t care less. One of her hands soon found its way around his balls. She paused, one nail still resting on his thigh and gently prickling his skin. He felt his abs relax a moment as he caught his breath, not even realizing until then that he had been holding it. She lifted that one finger and scratched his scrotum. The prick was there, but the sensation of feeling her nail, barely a centimeter in, trailing on him was enough to make his head swim. Now with two fingers, she gently traced each sack, leaving a fingerprint trail he would feel long into the night. His skin was on fire, and he wasn’t sure if it was her or him or them both that had lit the match that caused the inferno to rage. Once her fingertips reached the bottom, she slid the back of her hand back up, making sure that her nails jumped on every ridge of his tightening balls.

He felt his eyes roll into the back of his head as she finally touched his twitching cock. The back of her hand electrified every nerve ending. When she got to the head, she slid off and then rested her middle finger lightly on his oozing slit. There was a glob of precum gathering at the top from the simple touches she’d used. She spread it around his head, making him a sticky mess. When she felt that she had rubbed enough in, she gripped him for the first time and started to use her thumb to play with his crown. The nail slid up and down the center of his shaft, injecting those pleasure needles with each pass.

He opened his eyes as he felt her adjust herself to bring her head closer. It was like time stood still as he watched her lower herself. Her ample breasts swung in the air, her nipples hard with the anticipation she knew she created. He knew that she loved to please him—most of the time, that came by following his commands. But that night, she could see his unspoken needs. She flipped her red hair to one side and lay down on his leg. He felt her soft tits rest on his thigh and slide between his legs. They were so hot and plush he felt his cock twitch again. She took a moment to close her mouth and let out a small smile because his cock had twitched away from her goal. Then she parted her lips again and slid her hand down as she slipped her mouth over his cock.

He let out a cry unlike him. The anticipation had been killing him on the inside, yet when he finally got where he longed to be, he didn’t know how to react. She responded in kind with a soft moan. She was pulling out all the stops that night. She didn’t usually vocalize very much when she gave him head. But that night, the vibrations from the back of her throat, the pressure of her lips, and the drizzle from her mouth gave a boost to his testosterone. He felt like a king more than he ever did commanding her. This was where he wanted to stay, with her worshiping his cock in sincere appreciation.

He tried his most damned to watch her head bob up and down, but the playfulness continued. Every movement she made was deliberate and tactical. She allowed him to feel every slip she made down his cock. He sensed a drip of saliva seeping between those lips as she came up and trickling down his balls. She didn’t miss a thing, making sure to use her free hand to slide those juices back up and gently caress his balls. Then she came back down and took him into the back of her throat, holding him there for a few seconds. She let herself gag, giving him that small quick tightening and a chocking sound. She knew that he liked hearing her gag, if only for a second, because it made him feel larger. He was plenty big already, but the boost to his ego never hurt. So she would make herself gag just for him. Then she came back up, contentedly sighing as she slipped him out of her mouth. In the light, he saw the glisten of all her accumulated spit. There was a small string of it mixed with his precum that stretched from her mouth to his cockhead, and she wiped it away like the lady she was only to slap herself back down like the freak she also embodied.

She went down and up a couple of times before moving her lips down near his balls. Taking them in her mouth, she gently swirled her tongue as her hand worked on his cock. It slid up and down his shaft with ease from the effort she had put in on him. She stopped with her hand wrapped around the head and began to put a little more pressure underneath it as she rubbed right where his shaft began. Gently, she pulled back on his balls and let them plop out of her mouth with another contented sigh. Then she lowered herself further to lick just underneath his balls. He felt his legs twitch from the powerful sensation, and he was glad that her weight was on them. He heard her chuckle, enjoying his slight confinement. She continued to stroke him, speeding up now but not adding any more pressure. He wasn’t sure how she mastered it; she’d married speed with a lightness of touch. He knew she was there, and while he had wished for and dreamed of this sensation, it was only supposed to be a means to an end. Now he longed for the force that would bring him over the edge.

He could feel his head twitching more and more. He really wanted release, but she wasn’t letting up on him just yet. He felt her wet tongue travel up to lick each testicle before making a complete circle around the whole scrotum and heading up his shaft with a slow, sloppy lick. He opened his eyes to find her staring at him the entire way up. She lapped up the precum at the tip, then leaned up off his legs and slid her fair-freckled hand down around his olive trunk.

He fought to keep his eyes open as the two of them just stared at each other while she continued her slow strokes around his inopportune twitches. She smirked at him before taking her hand off his cock and using her nails to trail up and down his shaft. Another unlike-him sound left his lips, and he growled to make up for it. She chuckled lightly before adding her other hand and using her nails to scratch, four on either side of his cock. He bit his lip this time to make sure that sound didn’t leave his mouth again. She gave him a mischievous look, enjoying every quake of his body stemming from the need to blow his seed. The two of them stayed where they were: him in pleasurable agony, her in control but waiting for him to tell her what he wanted.

He was still in that perpetual mindset that he couldn’t truly let his desire come free. What would she think? Here she was looking at him and giving him what he hadn’t spoken, but would she go all the way? All he had to do was open his mouth but couldn’t bring himself to do it. Even standing on the edge of the cliff looking down at the clouds below, he couldn’t form the words. But like the great wife she is, she nudged him along.

“What’s wrong, Daddy?” she asked, reading his face. She never stopped moving her hands up and down his cock, her scarlet nails fire off signals of delirium through his body.

“I need to cum,” he finally said. He let the words hang in the air, ready for her to do what she wanted with the information. She didn’t let them hang for long.

“Well then,” she said, flipping her lustrous hair to the side and leaning over. There was a quick pause in which the needle-like feeling left his cock, and suddenly it was enveloped in the sloppy warmth of her mouth again. She wrapped her tongue around his cock before taking him all the way back and giving the small gag once more, then coming back up with another successful pop. “Go ahead and cum, Daddy,” she cooed, knowing that hearing his pet name on her lips always wired him up. She gripped his cock again, and this time gave him the pressure he needed to shove him off the ledge. It only took another five slippery-strong strokes before his cum went flying everywhere it could.

He felt his knees buckle as streams of white cum left his melanoid cock and splattered on the see-through curtain. He let out another steamy groan as he kept stroking, feeling every pent-up drop exit the head of his penis. Breathing heavily, he leaned his weight on the shower tiles to keep himself steady. He took a moment to recover, feeling his head swim from his vision. He didn’t know how long he stood there, but his cock remained hard as the last drop of cum slowly trickled down into the tub. It took him a moment to get his bearings, but he finally stood up and pointed the shower head towards the curtain, watching his cum wash down the drain before twisting the knob again to keep the heat up.

He felt the water wash over his body, especially his cock. The hot, gentle streams were enough to rekindle the fire deep within him that he kept hidden from his wife—but that vision reminded him she knew. He may have felt ashamed to admit it, but as the water ran over his softening cock, it took him back to the sharp needle-like sensations of her rosy acrylic nails. When he had finished cumming that night, her nails continued crawling up and down the sides of his cock while she stared him in the eye.

Releasing himself had reminded him of the silent conversation they shared that night when she had given him what he had quietly desired.

She knew his unspoken wishes, and he didn’t need to be ashamed.

He was man enough for her.

That was when he tackled her to the bed—to show her the man she had married and the man she could clearly see.