The thing of it is, there are a lot of things that just don’t work because Cricket is so goddamn tall, and between Cricket’s engineering mind and Lola’s artistic sensibility, they should realize the flaws in their plans before someone’s knee gives out and they both end up on the floor of the shower in a heap with shampoo in their eyes, but, well. They’re college students short on time and with blood flowing in places that are not so conducive to imagining angles very accurately.
“So,” Lola says, spitting water and soap onto the filmy tile and accidentally getting an elbow right into Cricket’s spleen as she tries to get her balance and push herself up without bending his dick at a right angle (again), and starting to laugh – “I guess we can cross ‘soap dish’ off the list of ‘things that might help standing sex work.’”
“Yep,” Cricket grunts, and he manages to laugh, too, as he heaves himself backwards enough that the cleanest part of the wall can support his back as he reaches out to wrap his big hands around Lola’s waist and pull her towards him, her thighs bracketing his hips as she settles onto his cock with the spray of water framing her pretty face and her breasts level with his mouth. “At least we tried it, for science.”