The shower

She watches him through a thin crack in the curtains, watches him undress, testing the water with his hand, before stepping under the steaming shower. Her hand slips down into the black satin of her panties feeling her own warmth and wetness, her eyes glued to the sight of his strong hands lathering up his magnificent body, her clit tingling as he caresses himself, water and bubbles running down his naked body, outlining each delicious curve. She plays with herself gently, not wanting to come too soon, not wanting to miss a second with him, brushing her hard, hot clit softly and slowly, feeling little rushes of pleasure spread outwards through her.

Sometimes they would bump into each other in the store on the corner and chat. She derived guilty delight knowing she had seen him naked. Naked and more, because the other night he had masturbated in the shower. He had taken his time too. stroked his chest and belly with the other hand, eyes closed, pleasure etched on his face. She had watched transfixed as he brought himself to climax, biting her lip at the sight of his cum running down his length and through his fingers, drowning in his open mouth, feeling his excitement, watching through misted eyes as his body shuddered and rocked. They came together.

She starts to come as he steps out of the shower and begins to dry himself, her orgasm like a million tiny electric storms ravishing her whole body, hot heavy gasps erupt from her chest, her pussy exploding with sensation. For a second she thinks he is looking at her, but reasons that he can’t possibly see her through the tiny gap in the curtain. She doesn’t realise that her feet are poking out from under it.

After he is gone and she has had a quick shower herself, she switches on her notebook and Googles video cameras, thinking she could record him and watch him any time she wants. There is a knock at the door, she slips on her red silk dressing gown and answers it. Its him, wearing nothing but a towel and a smile.