Onesies and water bowls
Carol woke up feeling uncomfortable. Her steel bed held a too thin mattress, and while most nights she was used to it, sometimes it felt like sleeping on a bed of nails. Although it was cold outside, the stuffy air and the heat from the furnace Rick and the guys installed just next to her cell wall didn't let her sleep.
She shifted a few times before deciding to get up, not knowing exactly what her destination would be. She passed through the other cells, listening to the heavy breathing, snoring and coughing of the prison's other residents. She walked silently, trying not to bother anyone, until she got to the locker rooms. She looked at her passing reflection on a stained mirror, and she had to chuckle at how ridiculous she looked. Her soft green polar fleece one-piece pajamas set made Carol feel like a peapod boiling in hot water.
She unzipped the pajamas so the top part of the onesie slipped off, letting the cool air embrace her skin. She tied its arms loosely to her waist and went to the sink where a bowl of water had been left for whoever needed freshening up. She dipped her hands and took the fresh water to her face, spreading it with her fingers on the back of her neck and her shoulders. The thick drops of water made their way down her throat and between her breasts, ending their delightful journey on the neckline of her tank top.
Carol felt her nipples harden against the fabric of her top, and she almost gasped. Her hands took another dive in the bowl, and this time she took them directly to her chest, feeling the water cascade over her shirt. She tucked her hands under the top, its straps falling over her arms, and felt her firm breasts under her hands.
Now she looked at herself in the mirror, and didn't feel ridiculous. The soaked fabric outlined her upper body, and her rock hard nipples showed through it. With her eyes half closed, shot with craving, Carol held on to the sink with one hand while the other slowly, but with no hesitation, slipped inside the lower part of her pajamas to feel herself. Carefully, she inserted two fingers inside her hot wetness, pressing the heel of her hand on her mound, and started the massage she knew so well. It had been too long since she last had a moment of lonely intimacy like that, although she found herself thinking about it quite frequently.
She had never touched herself standing up, and that made the whole situation feel new and sexy. Carol couldn't hold back a moan… and that's when she heard a noise from the adjacent room.
She snapped her hand from her panties as if she had burned it, and her heart sank to the floor. Anxiously, she looked around and was relieved to see that there was no one there. But the sound of running water kept filling the room. She quietly paced to the entrance of the adjacent common shower room, and had a peek inside.
There he was.
There were three showerheads on the tiled white wall, and Daryl stood under the one at the middle. He had his back turned to her and he was completely naked. At first she retreated immediately, leaning on the other side of the wall. As the back of her head touched the cold cement, Carol closed her eyes realizing that she had just seen Daryl bare-assed taking a shower, an image she tried to fabricate herself inside her head so many times.
She intended to leave and respect his privacy, she really did, but her whole body disobeyed. She turned around again, tilting her head so that only her eyes emerged from behind the wall, allowing her to see the beautiful picture once more.
Daryl's hand was against the wall, legs apart and his head was bowed, letting the water hit him directly at the nape. She could see broad shoulders and a muscular back, like a canvas to his remembered suffering. She couldn't decide what was more beautiful, the tattoo of two winged angel-like figures whirling towards his right shoulder, or the straight faded red lines, reminders of his once endured pain.
She was amazed on how strong and manly his thighs were, and of course, she had never seen first-hand such beautifully shaped buttocks.
His left arm was moving in an awkward rhythm, as if he was scratching his belly or…
Oh. Right.
It took a while for realization to kick in, and then Carol knew what he was doing. He was pleasuring himself, just as she had tried to do a few moments before. She felt her cheeks heating and her heart beating even faster, but most of all, she felt happy… even relieved at the confirmation that Daryl allowed himself to feel lust and desire.
That was when she turned away and tiptoed her way out of there.
She arrived at her cell panting. The ache between her legs was still there, stronger than ever. She paced around, shaking her arms, throwing back her head and breathing, but it didn't go away. As she sat on the mattress, she instinctively put her arms around her bended knees and squeezed her legs together. That was all it took to feel the spasms within her, and Carol let out a hard breath as she convulsed with pleasure.
After that, she fell on the bed and slept until morning.