Hydro Hotel

In my more than a decade of avid masturbation, I had only ever used my hands. They continue to serve me well, but for years I had quietly coveted a stimulation that a female high school friend of mine had once confided in me that she enjoyed: the detachable shower head.

When she'd first told me I figured it wouldn't work for me -- after all, so much of my masturbation was about friction and motion, and I was still learning how my penis responded to stimulation and what felt good. In the intervening years, I'd learned a lot about my body and its parts and pleasures. I had realized that my primary masturbation technique focused on the frenulum, and I had learned how to give myself frenulum orgasms just by rubbing the area with two or three fingers (but that's for another story!).

As I learned all this, I knew I wanted to see how it would feel to have a detachable shower head's stream zeroed in on my sensitive spot. I tried once with a water pick, but it had been entirely the wrong sort of stimulation for entirely too short a time before its reservoir ran out. I would position myself in the regular shower too, for a taste of the feeling, but that water was far too diffused.

When I checked into a fancy hotel on a recent trip and saw the deep tub with the long detachable shower head, I knew it was time to give it a try. 

I thought about it all day and was itching to go when I finally got back to my room that night. I stripped and read some stories on this site about men who had used detachable shower heads, trawling for techniques and arousal. I pulled up some videos, too, of men pelting their frenulums with the shower stream. I felt myself get hard, my restored foreskin rolling back and my six-inch erection bobbing with my excited heartbeat. As I read deeper into the stories and stroked myself lightly on the bed, I began to dribble a few small droplets of clear, slippery pre-cum.

I stopped before I got too far, wanting to have my orgasm by shower head at long last. I took a short stool and my laptop into the bathroom, placing it so I could watch some porn if I needed inspiration and also record myself trying this new and exciting technique. I turned on the faucet, filling the tub with a shallow layer of warm water. I sat down and felt my balls float in the warmth, stroking myself impatiently while I waited for the bath to be a little more full and comfortable.

At long last, I stood to grab the shower head from its hook at the top of the stall. I switched the stream from tub to shower and fiddled with the knob on the head that set the stream -- either wide and slower or narrow and fast out of the middle. Narrow and fast was a no-brainer, and I shivered at the thought of the water on my most sensitive area.

I sat back down in the tub and clicked the video recorder on my laptop, leaning back into the tub and grabbing the shower head. I was mostly hard, my cock lolling to one side but not floppy. I positioned the stream a few inches from the place where what was left of my frenulum meets the inner sheath of my foreskin, pulled back when I get hard. (My foreskin restoration is another story, too, but suffice it to say what's left of that stringy band of flesh between my foreskin and glans is the most sensitive part of my body and is the key of almost all my solo pleasures.) I've always found that spot, about an inch or an inch and a half down from the rim of my glans, to be the most deliciously wonderful to play with.

My eyes shut immediately and my mouth fell open. Already I was breathing incredibly hard, my stomach coursing in and out with each shallow breath as I was overcome by the feeling. I hardened completely in seconds. It was so intense, radiating from my frenulum through my entire penis and scrotum, all-encompassing in its hundreds of stimulating water droplets in ways that even my well-practiced fingers could never hope to equal. I grasped my free hand around the base of my shaft, tugging the skin and my frenulum taut for even more sensation.

I shook the shower head back and forth, willing the stream of water to pulse up and down the string of my frenulum like my fingers have often done. Subconsciously I pressed the shower head closer and closer to my curving shaft, rising up from its base and hovering over my light brown full bush and stomach with its smooth, pink shaft and red and darkening glans. I had started with the shower head a couple inches away, but soon it was practically on it. I didn't notice at the time -- I only know now from watching the video I made. My body had taken over, following the pleasure wherever it led.

The veins on my shaft bulged more than usual as my cock stood stalk-hard, my shovel-shaped glans like a rocket ship desperate to shoot off. I could feel hints of my orgasm, that familiar full tightness that usually so quickly becomes an unstoppable force of impending climax under my expert handiwork. Now, though, it was elusive. It felt exceptional, but each time I saw the orgasm on the horizon, it dimmed from view when I did not stimulate my penis in the manner to which it is accustomed.

My tongue stuck out in concentration and I pressed my free fingers into the base of my reddening shaft, willing a bit of stimulation to get me off.

I raised my eyebrows as I felt another wave of potential climax wash over me, but I became frustrated as it receded again. The fingers pressing against my shaft curled around it, and after a few seconds, desperate to cum, began stroking up and down my shaft in familiar, quick movements with my thumb and forefingers lightly grasping my cock. 

I fought every urge to masturbate my way, my fingers pressing again and again over my frenulum as I shuttle my foreskin back and forth over my glans. I knew this would bring orgasm, but as much as I wanted, no needed, to cum, I wanted to cum from the water's power tonight.

So I pressed my foreskin to curl up below the glans, furling and unfurling my frenulum as the water slammed against it. My balls bounced in the water with a pleasing sound and my dick was as flushed as I had ever seen it between the hot water and the intense plateau phase I had given it.

My right hand knew exactly what to do, but my left was not as good with the shower head, so I swapped hands, my left curling around my cock and stroking wildly, my right angling the stream precisely where it needed to go.

I could feel my orgasm coming now, the beginning I'd felt earlier now gathered for the final push. I noticed I was giving into my hand now, pushing my foreskin so far forward my frenulum was blocked from the water on some strokes. I willed myself to stop, grasping around the middle of my shaft and allowing the water to bring me right to the edge. I tapped my glans against my stomach, too, as I felt the scalding hot feeling rise up my shaft slowly, that tell-tale marker that I was about to cum.

My nipples had stiffened, and my neck stretched and my body rose slightly off the floor of the tub as I began to feel my orgasm, my fingers, floating a few millimeters above my cock in each direction, not touching it but floating over it, involuntarily shaking in a stroking motion that my body was so well-trained to make.

The heat of my cum reached the neck, then the glans, then my opening, the feeling exploding as I shot once small glob of semen out onto my stomach. I ejaculated another small glob, and then a third, and then I gave in and stroked myself through my orgasm as I always do, coaxing the indescribable feeling to last for another spurt, another contraction, another few seconds.

I let the shower head fall to one side as I stroked my four fingers over the neck of my cock, pressing the foreskin up and over my frenulum and the rim of my glans. I dribbled a few more drops of cum and my body shook in occasional spasms with the ragged aftershocks of my orgasm. I let the pink ring of my retracted foreskin roll onto my corona as I already began to soften, the force of the climax flooring me.

As my orgasm ended, I let my hands fall into the tub and leaned deeper into the water, catching my breath as I let the warm water and feelings of release and relaxation wash over me. My cock flopped onto my bush and nestled to one side near my thigh as it softened more, pulsing every so often with a renewed bit of feeling. I blew out an exhale of air and turned to my laptop as I regained mental functions. I noticed my laptop, in the frenzy, had been splattered with water that had bounced off my cock in every direction.

I sat up in the tub, my cock flopping into the water and floating on it. I turned the water hotter now that it wasn't directed at my most sensitive area; the tub had gotten a little cold during my masturbation session. I reached over and clicked off the recording I had made.

I thought about my high school friend who had told me she masturbated herself like this, and about the videos I had seen of men and women doing so, and the stories I'd read. I thought about how I'd do it again the next night, and what changes I might make. I figured I'd cover my laptop's keyboard with a towel.