Shower Spy Games

Sharon stands at the bedroom doorway, talking about the afternoon Trish showed up with no running water next door. The woman asked if she could shower here, and Sharon led her inside like it was nothing unusual. She set out a towel, then left Trish alone. Instead of walking away she paused just outside the bathroom door. Through the crack, she watched Trish strip and step under the spray. Steam rolled across the glass door. Trish’s body glistened. Water slid over her breasts, down her stomach, between her thighs. Sharon’s breathing deepened, heat pooling low. When Trish turned and saw the shadow at the door, she didn’t flinch. She smiled. The look in her eyes said she’d been waiting for it. She pushed the glass aside, reached out, and pulled Sharon into the spray. Soaked clothes clung, then came off in a hurry. Wet skin met wet skin. Trish’s mouth claimed Sharon’s throat. Fingers slid over slippery curves, seeking every slick fold. The spray drummed on tile as mouths met, tongues tasted, hands held hips hard against tile. They fucked standing, breath hitching, water mingling with the slick evidence of their need until neither could hold back.