Sky Baby Blues

The climb upstairs to the top floor wasn’t arduous. You’ve done it before carrying heavier things than just the shirt on your back. The working elevator chimes as you pass by, mirrored steel doors beckoning you inside to finish your ascension in comfort. Ignoring it you trudge up the last few floors, spirits as high as the clouds. Kneeling down you reach for the key under the mat before withdrawing your fingers with a chuckle. Dash had told you earlier that the door would be unlocked. So without any worries you twist the brass handle of the penthouse door to step inside.

Like a ninja you quietly tiptoe your way into the master bedroom where waves of hot steam were billowing out from the conjoined shower, along with the wicked guitar solo of Thunderstruck from the radio on the sink. Stripping off your shirt and shoes you plop yourself on the mattress, lying at the back with your head propped against the backboard. Only a little bored you grab an outdated fashion magazine with Dashs quiet friend with the pink hair blushing on the cover. Thumbing through it with half-interest you glance over to the dresser to your left. Usually there was a brand new trophy or medal lying around the mess of silver and gold. It looked untouched from your last visit with nothing new to note aside from the awkward positioning of Dashs favorite pair of shoes.

The rushing water in the bathroom squeaks to a halt. You can hear the sound of copper rings sliding over the brass rod as the shower curtain opens. The music clicks off and you pull the magazine up to your face as if it were suddenly the most interesting periodical on the planet. As footsteps fill the air around your ears you try to slowly slide the magazine down to get a look at-

You shout a muffled ‘Hey!’ as the abrupt soggy wetness of a pink towel flies into your face.

“Think ya could’ve knocked or something before barging in here?”

Tearing away the towel you finally get a glimpse of Dash in the bathroom doorway. She had a pair of blue briefs limply hanging off her waist, revealing her perfectly shaped abdominals silhouetted by the warm yellow light spilling from the bathroom behind her. Her hands were waving in the air as she stood fighting with her little white nightshirt, small biceps bulging through her tanned arms as she poked her head through.

You begin to protest; after all you were here on time, door unlocked and everything. Successfully pulling the cut-off over her head she grumbles at your response.

“I don’t care I’m just sayin’ a heads-up would’ve been great,” Dash says with tension in her voice.

She rolls into the bed next to, cloud white bedsheets becoming much messier than when you climbed in. She rests her back on your chest, legs splayed open. With her head at your neck you decide to take a gentle sniff of the indigo stripe of hair at your nose. The sweet scent of cherry pomegranate fills your senses. She’d used the red bottle today. Her silence only meant that you’d have to ask the question that’s been on your mind since you left her at the stadium in the morning. Running your left hand down her belly you go ahead and ask.

“No. I didn’t win,” she said finally, the words bursting out of her like a popped balloon “Some other girl beat me by .9 seconds. Yeah I did set a new PR but why would my stats matter if I ended up second? God I suck.”

She huffs, wriggling a bit in sudden irritation. The boiling hot showers she always took had left her skin warm and flushed pink. If she was getting any angrier you could only tell from her voice. You do like to push her buttons sometimes. So stifling a chuckle you make an off-hand comment.

“Are you kidding?!” she swivels her head to look at you, rosy eyes narrowing into points “I need to win ALL the time. Especially if I ever want to get into Wonderbolts gymnastics sometime before I turn twenty-three. You KNOW I want in on that team.”

Her chest started to rise in quicker motions as her breathing intensified. Not wanting an argument you back off a little, deftly switching the subject to something easier.

“No I’m not tired. Just sore,” says Dash returning her head back against your bare chest. Of course this wasn’t a new topic. You ask where anyway.

“My feet,” she says tersely, motioning an arm down her strong legs. It was always her feet after a race. Never a swollen ankle or pulled muscle. You offer to help relieve some of her pain.

“What, seriously? You’ll give me a foot massage?” she asks rolling over to face you, her small chest squishing against yours. Trying to be delicate about the offer you just mumble some things about comfort. Dash flops backwards off your chest anyway, crossing her legs and placing her two feet on your chest.

She wiggles her toes, each nail painted a different color. You idly wonder why she still took the time to do it. Using both hands you place your fingers above the top of her left foot and start pushing your thumbs around in slow circles. She really did have cute feet for an athlete…unlike her friend AJ who worked those apple orchards all the time. Her skin wasn’t baby soft but it was warm and it gave when you pressed your thumbs into it. With your thumb and your forefinger you gingerly rub each toe individually, stretching them straight but not so far to crack the joints. Suppressed giggling bristled past your ears as you remember that she’s ticklish there. Keeping that notion in mind you return your attention back to her soles, rubbing at the creases here and there. Dash seemed to be enjoying it. Curling her toes whenever the top of your thumb brushed against them was a strong indicator that you were doing a good job.

Expectedly after a few minutes Dash uncrossed her legs to offer you her right foot. She had a band-aid on the top by her big toe, as well as one near the ankle by her lightning rainbow tattoo. Her other foot most likely had some scratches above her heel too. Blisters probably, knowing why they were there you rotate your thumbs in small circles above her heel making a comment about her choice of footwear.

“No chance in hell. I’ve had those shoes forever. I won my very first race in that pair of sneakers. They’re special and I’m NEVER gonna replace them,” Dash says firmly, trying to pull her foot away. You grab hold tight. She wasn’t able to budge it. You continue to press the matter.

“I don’t need a new pair of runners,” she complained, trying to pull her leg free “They’re just FINE the way they are. I’ve won practically every race ever in my sky baby blues. I’m not just gonna give them up ‘cuz I get a blister once in a while.”

Glancing over to the dresser you take note of the sneakers sitting firmly in the middle on that little pedestal thing. They had holes in them, the laces were frayed and the bottoms were extremely worn. You even happened to know that she was almost a size too big for them. Dash was stubborn; you knew she would keep wearing them despite the pain that was holding her back instead of helping. She continues struggling, her stomach contorting as she strains her leg muscles.

Letting her go you ask her pointedly why she continues to wear shoes that handicap her if she likes winning so much. Dash walks over to the dresser and takes one sneaker in hand, brushing a thumb against the tired fabric.

“They’re just lucky. I know my feet hurt after every race…but I just always HAD them ya know? I like ‘em. They’re ME,” she says softly. Dash could be really sappy about her shoes. “I just don’t wanna give ‘em up I guess…”

You swing your legs over the side of the bed. Throwing your arms around her front you nibble at her exposed shoulder before whispering into her ear about preservation. If they fall apart completely then they’re garbage. If you save them now, they’re a memoir.

Very carefully, Dash sets the sneakers upright in the midst of her trophies. There’s just a tiny ache in her voice when she lets them go as she says “Yeah…I’m being stupid. Everyone else has the newest Nikes or Adidas and here I am holding onto my baby shoes like an idiot.”

Some of her yellow hair got stuck in your mouth. Pulling it out you tell her she’s not an idiot; just overtly sentimental. You remind her there’s nothing wrong with that. Considering all they’ve done, you tell her it’s one more trophy to add to her collection. Better than any medal ever since they carried her feet to victory.

That did the trick. Dash pushes you backwards; hands slipping off her chest as she tackles you with a smile. Completely unexpectedly she locks her lips to yours in a heated kiss. You eagerly return it. Dash rarely wanted to kiss, but when it happened you always savored it as long as it lasted. You run your fingers through her long multi-colored hair as you make out with her. She moans in delight at the feeling. Moving your fingers away from your head you slide them down to her strong shoulders and start rubbing there. The tension you felt there earlier was melting away. Her shorts had slid off slightly giving you a view of her firm ass outlined by the yellow bathroom light.

She gasps in your mouth as you reach down; giving it a gentle squeeze in the palm of your hand. You move your right hand underneath her as you continue massaging her with your left. Dragging your hand past her naval you find the spot just above her pussy. Pushing hard elicits a louder moan from her this time; she breaks the kiss as her face contorts in pleasure at the sensation, baring her pearly whites. Slipping your index inside of her you find she’s already gotten moist, definitely not from her shower. Dash starts rocking a little as you slide your middle inside too. Now she’s soaking wet, her juices flowing down the back of your hand onto your stomach. Biting her lower lip she digs her nails into your back leaving light scratches against your skin. Her hot breath tickles your left ear as she murmurs in pleasure.

She pulls up to look at you, her face inches from yours as she pants heavily into your open mouth. Licking her lips she says “You didn’t…shower after your work-out today did ya?”

You nearly laugh in her face at how silly her concern was. Your response is a care-free ‘nope’ as she clambers off your chest. “I DID just take a shower ya know. What’s the point of me cleaning up to get covered in your sweat right before bed?”

You chuckle, licking your fingers as she strips in front of you, completely revealing her tanned athletic figure. A thin stream of liquid was flowing from her crotch down her right leg, following the lines of her thighs, running past her cut calves before dripping a little at her ankle. The make out session had left you stiff, now with her perfect body on full display your gym shorts were incredibly tented.

“Lose the shorts so you can take a shower with me. I’ll let you use the rich girl shampoo my mom keeps sending me,” says Dash raising an eyebrow as you struggle with your shorts “Don’t worry about me gettin’ sore either. This I can handle.”

She steps into the shower turning on the faucet, hot water pouring over her instantly. You awkwardly step inside as the boiling hot water cascades over on your head and down your backside. The small bottle in Dashs hand spurts out some flecked green shampoo smelling of rosemary. She starts rubbing it into your hair until it’s a mosh of foamy suds. Spinning her around you do the same for her, gently caressing the back of her neck with your knuckles as you soap her up. You move them to her shoulders, dragging them down her small tits, teasing at her nipples, her abs, then down to her hips setting your thumbs at the small of her back. Dash places her hands against the wall of the shower, sticking her ass out and arching her spine.

Her head snaps back in ecstasy as you slip inside, her gasp echoing in the spacious bathroom. You begin working steadily from behind. Starting with slow careful strokes you pull out of her, before sliding slowly back in. Every couple of insertions she gasps a little louder. Now taking up a stronger rhythm her ass starts making loud slapping noises each time you penetrate her. She loves it when you really give it to her, if you dawdled too long she’d berate you for not being rough. Dash was howling in pleasure, rubbing furiously switching between her left tit and clit. You don’t remove your hands from her hips, too focused on keeping a steady pace. Her rainbow hair was flying everywhere, at her shoulders, her back, teasing your chest as she whipped her head around. The sensation of it was only enhancing your own excitement. You start pounding even harder at her ass.

It was a good several minutes of hot steamy sex in that shower, you keep going at it harder and faster. There’s a pressure mounting at the base of your cock. Quickly grabbing a handful of her rainbow hair you pull it, using the other to grab her right tit coming inside Dash at the same time as her in powerful spurts. Five times as you pump your cock into her, watching her entire body shuddering from her orgasm. Her pussy contracting around your dick as the waves of pleasure gripping her senses left her speechless, blinking slowly as her tongue lolled out her mouth. She snaps back to attention after the orgasm finishes rippling through her. You pull out, dick going semi flaccid as you watch the shower clean away the cum spilling from her ass. Slumping against the slick tiled wall you nonchalantly ask her if she can handle a round 2.

Dash elbows you in the gut “I’d like to get some shut-eye sometime tonight since I’m just a little worn from the race. If you’re down for sneaker shopping with me tomorrow I’ll go one more. Deal?”

Grabbing under her left thigh you slip your arm underneath, pulling it up into the air as you move your other arm around her back. Getting to see the look on her face as you slipped inside her again was worth the few hours lost to shoe shopping tomorrow morning. At least picking the right color was going to be a no-brainer.

END