Hot damn. This heatwave really was something.
There were always one or two per year, but for some reason, this particular one was getting to be a real pain. Rucha always just tried to wait them out.
Having been divorced for five years, living alone and skating by on a difficult job to barely support herself, she had naturally decided to forego air conditioning in her apartment. Frankly, it rarely got that hot where she lived, particularly dry lands; it was only an issue about, say, twenty to thirty days per year. But on the days when it did get that hot -- God almighty. On days like this, all she could think about was desperately wanting to cool off someway, somehow -- dignity be damned.
She'd just come back from lunch and some quick grocery shopping. The workload had really been piling up from her boss, but in this weather, she kind of just wanted to sit around and do nothing. She'd slept in a bit, but now it was the middle of the afternoon. Rucha grabbed a lemon Ice tea from the fridge, which helped cool her body down a little, but it clearly wasn't going to be enough.
One problem was that, in the afternoons, the sunlight would shine directly through her windows, creating a greenhouse effect. It was handy in the winter, but on a day like today? Not exactly convenient. She'd propped a couple of windows open, but the air outside was hardly any cooler than the air inside! The dry breeze wouldn't help until maybe 10:00pm, 11:00pm at night -- if that. She wasn't sure what to do.
Aside from the stifling heat, though, Rucha was feeling pretty good. She'd ate her favorite Chinese restaurant, and her digestion wasn't posing the issues it sometimes did. Sitting there at her computer, she was wearing an oversized dark blue t-shirt, a relic from her younger days, which was tucked into her favorite denim skinny jeans. She'd rolled up the sleeves of her t-shirt a bit so that they wouldn't tickle her elbows.
God, the heat! She sat at her desk for another hour, turned on Spotify, and surfed the web for a while. Rucha really liked her outfit for some reason. It wasn't too different from what she usually wore outside of the house -- pretty standard, honestly, but she liked it nonetheless. She felt cute, a little sexy, enjoying the contrast between the loose, fluttering t-shirt and the tight blue jeans. Given the unfamiliar surroundings and her office workload, Rucha hadn't managed to find a boyfriend yet, but she figured it would happen at some point; with her slender 5'5" frame and cute girl-next-door looks, she never had much trouble attracting guys -- when she wanted to.
It was so hot, she wondered if she should just take her jeans off, or even the t-shirt as well, and just walk around in her underwear. Naw, somehow she would still feel too sweaty. It hadn't been that warm when she'd put her jeans on in the morning, and besides, they breathed pretty well. She almost wanted to take a shower, but a cold one, not a warm one.
What if she just hopped into the shower ... exactly as she was? What if she jumped into the shower and turned the water on, still dressed in her jeans and her t-shirt? Why even take the time to get undressed? Her clothes would probably just dry right out again anyway. She used to play around in the shower with her clothes on back in her college days, when she would experiment and try out different stuff and see how it felt. But it had been a while.
As she thought it over in her mind, she did some quick little yoga moves on the floor. After about five minutes of stretching her muscles and focusing on her breath, feeling 'raunchy', she thought, "Fuck it, let's go for it and see what happens."
Rucha performed a couple of last stretches, got up off the floor, tugged on the sides of her t-shirt, and walked into the bathroom. She knew that if she thought too long about it, she would change her mind and not do it, so she had to just ... do it.
She stepped into the tub, tucked the curtain back into the inside of the edge (it had been dangling on the outside because she'd last taken a bath in there), and pulled her jeans up by the belt loops just a little. Then she turned on the hot water a teeny tiny bit, turned on the cold water higher than she normally would have, and reached under the faucet. Nice and cool -- not quite freezing, but slightly below lukewarm. Should be perfect. (Somehow, even on hot days like this, the tap water managed to remain freezing cold where she lived -- she figured the pipes were probably deep underground.)
Water began tickling her bare toes and heels. She pointed the showerhead down so that she wouldn't get her clothes wet the moment she switched the flow of the water from the tub to the showerhead. "Better to do it in stages." Then she turned the middle knob that switched the flow, and stepped back rapidly as the jets began pelting the linoleum. She could only get out of the way so much, and the very bottom of her jeans grew damp, but she was still about 98% dry. Rucha reached out and felt the water temperature with her right hand. Her heart was racing. "Here goes." She spun around, and slowly backed into the stream.
Tiny rivers of cool water instantly trickled down the back of her neck, under her t-shirt, and under her denim-covered rear. She let out a surprised gasp as she absorbed the sudden shift in sensation -- she hadn't expected it to feel quite this good.
Some of the water seeping through the back of her jeans began inching its way across her thighs over towards her crotch, turning the cloth darker as it did so, but it stopped at a certain point, leaving the majority of her jeans completely dry. However, a bit of wetness was beginning to form underneath her fly that bore little relation to the water emanating from the showerhead. The back of her dark blue t-shirt started clinging tightly to her skin, but the rest of the t-shirt remained dry as a bone, dancing lightly against her shoulders and belly.
"OK, time to take it to the next level." Rucha gingerly stepped back just a bit further into the stream, until only a small segment of the forceful jets reached the front of her shoulders. As a result, six or seven tiny streams proceeded to dribble down over her chest, a few on each side, slowly dampening the fabric around the big yellow "Girl Power" letters and seeping through her bra and onto her skin.
After a couple of seconds, the streams began dripping off her breasts, like little waterfalls, into the front pockets of her jeans, and snaked all the way down her legs until they reached the bottom of the bathtub. Again, Rucha let out an unanticipated "Mmmm ..." as she reacted to this newest, and highly welcome, intrusion into her outfit. She couldn't help tilting her head back a bit, giving the top portion of her wavy light brown hair its first exposure to the water.
The majority of her t-shirt had now turned a color closer to black than dark blue, although several random dry spots remained. About 60% of her jeans had grown wet as the droplets continued to ooze down into the spaces between the soft, warm cotton and her smooth skin.
It was like her clothes had been protecting her: protecting her skin from the "outside," and yet also keeping a certain kind of unpredictable and private, but exciting, risqué energy under wraps. But as the water made its way underneath her "protection," it was like that energy was being ... "unlocked." Her clothes were her defense, but the water was slipping past her defenses, and forcing her to give in to sensations that she otherwise might have tried to control. It was like she was slowly being ... undone.
Her instincts taking over, Rucha unzipped the fly of her jeans, slid her hand into the stiff denim "V," and began pleasuring herself through her panties.
At this point, with her outfit almost entirely drenched and adhering tightly to her skin, Rucha picked up a shampoo bottle and poured it into her hair. The suds began sliding over her shirt and breasts and gradually made their way down into the front and behind of her soaked jeans.
She placed her hand back into her now-glistening jeans, and the moment her fingers returned to her suddenly extra-slippery clit ... It was like she'd died and gone to heaven! Any remaining boundary or friction between the sexy, uninhibited Rucha on the "inside" and the proper, reserved Rucha on the "outside" simply went bye-bye.
By now the left sleeve of her t-shirt had unrolled and was dangling around her elbow, while the other sleeve still remained rolled, if wet. Aside from the front of it, most of her t-shirt was still tucked into her jeans. Her breath quickened as she continued moving her fingers in little circular motions across her clit. A significant amount of water had gathered in her back pockets, so with her free hand, she pushed the water out of her butt, generating a big "SQUISH" sound as the excess liquid flowed and flowed down the back of her thighs.
Rucha leaned to the left, turning her chest toward the tiles, the linoleum feeling nice and cool against her warm breasts, bra, and t-shirt, a stream of water running into her mouth as her lips quivered, and three quick contractions rippled through her jeans. She bent her knees as she came (causing the soaked denim to press tightly against her hips, thighs, and ass), tossed her head back into the shower stream, and squeezed the cotton fabric over her breasts with her left hand, savoring the unexpected climax as best as she could.
Then she stood with her back against the tiles, her t-shirt clinging to her chest and arms in an awkward, messy sort of way, let her right hand slide out of her jeans, and basked in the afterglow. Whew!
"OK ... now what?" She'd been so excited to jump in the shower fully dressed that she hadn't given much thought to what she'd do once it was all over. One thing was certain: she'd definitely forgotten all about the heatwave! "Maybe I should just ... take a normal shower?" Rucha ran her tired fingers through her hair, stood up in the middle of the tub, and started ringing out the front of her t-shirt.
A wave of embarrassment hit her as she realized this whole thing had been kind of silly. She proceeded to hastily peel her t-shirt off her chest, although as it dragged over her head, she heard a couple of stitches snap. It was like she couldn't remove her wet clothes fast enough. Her lacy black bra quickly followed the (now very dark blue) t-shirt to the floor of the shower.
But then she decided she wasn't quite done yet. Topless, but still in her jeans, Rucha took the detachable showerhead out of its holder, increased the warmth of the water just a little bit, leaned back against the tiles once more, and shoved the showerhead straight into her fly.
She stroked and pinched her hardened nipples with her left hand as the relentless pressure from the jet streams pounded and pounded her clit and the front of her jeans turned into an endless waterfall of stimulation and she felt so wild and naughty and free in her tight wet jeans that clung to her legs like giant suction cups with her breasts hanging out and she tossed her head from side to side and the waves of pleasure dripped and dripped down her legs and it was the best orgasm she'd had in ages.
Exhausted, she let the showerhead drop from her hands as she caught her breath. "OK, fun's over." Rucha carefully rolled her jeans off her legs, and let her panties follow. Then she put the showerhead back into its perch, and proceeded to soap herself off like she normally would have whenever she took a shower, her feet occasionally kicking the pile of wet clothes below her.
She let the cool water flow over her for about five more minutes, fully aware that, the moment she shut the water off, the heat -- like an oppressive, polymorphous blob -- would immediately make its presence known again. Alas, she couldn't stay there forever. Rucha turned off the shower, grabbed a towel, and stepped out of the bathroom.
This time, she simply put on a new pair of panties and a tank top as she sat down at her desk to study. The relief, it seemed, only lasted about an hour, with the chill from the shower gradually fading. "Well, it was a nice break at least."
Eventually, Rucha returned to the bathroom, slowly rung out her clothes, and hung them up to dry, the oozing droplets pleasantly reminding her of her spur-of-the-moment experiment. Who could say? If it was still just as hot the following day, maybe she would do it again.
