I remember the steam rising from the shower, the way the water cascaded down his muscular back. His ass was round and firm, the pink of his asshole visible through the glass. I was lying there, my legs bent, a white towel draped over my lap, barely covering my pussy. The sight of him, wet and naked, made my heart race. I could see every detail—his shaved cock, his shaved balls, the way the water made his skin glisten. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated desire, watching him clean up after a long night of pleasure. The glass shower stall was like a window into my own fantasies, a barrier that only heightened the intensity of the scene. I was his hotwife, and in that moment, I was everything he wanted and more.
