Spied In The Shower

Isiah was home when Olivia walked in to crash in the guest room. His high-school crush, still looking fine as hell after all these years. First night turned into a week, then two. Every morning he caught himself staring at the way her robe hugged her curves while she sipped coffee. Then one steamy afternoon he caught a glimpse—mirror angled just right against the bathroom door frame—of Olivia stepping into the running water. He should have walked away. Didn't. He watched her hands run the soap bar over her shoulders, down heavy tits, across dark nipples that perked at the chill, then lower, fingers parting her plump lips as she rinsed. His dick stirred. Olivia reached for a slim pink vibrator, switched it on, pressed it to her clit. Eyes shut, hips rolling slow, slick water and foam running down thick thighs while she worked the toy in teasing circles. Groans echoed off the tile, moans growing louder until Isiah heard the rumble of climax building. That’s when her eyes popped open and pinned him through the mirror. Caught. Heart pounding. Instead of a scream she smirked. Said, “Knew you were peeking. Got a crush on me still?” He didn’t answer—didn’t have to. She swung the shower door wide, crooked a finger, walked right up with her body still dripping and gave him a soapy, hard kiss. They fucked right there against the tile wall, him buried balls-deep inside her slick pussy with the vibrator buzzing between them. Legs hooked over his hips, her back arching, tits bouncing under jets of hot water. Pledges to keep it secret slurred through clenched teeth and frantic thrusts: “Never tell her, swear.” She came again, walls fluttering around his cock, biting into his shoulder so the shriek stayed locked in. Pull-out finished, hot spurts slick across her wet belly, and both agreed it never happened.