u/rpn03

I need to get this off my chest because it's been eating at me for weeks. It's fucked. I know it's fucked. But it happened and honestly? I haven't stopped touching myself thinking about it since.

So my stepbrother, let's call him Jake (22M), moved back home for the summer after his lease ended. We've never been close. He's always been the quiet one who stays in his room. I'm the loud one who brings guys over when my mom's at work. Specifically, my ex Alex (19M) used to be over all the time before we broke up two months ago.

Anyway. Last Thursday, I came home early from my friend's place because I forgot my charger. The house was quiet. I walked upstairs and my bedroom door was open. Not wide. Just... cracked.

I pushed it open.

Jake was sitting on the edge of my bed. He had my pink lace thong – the one Alex liked – pressed against his face. His eyes were closed. His other hand was down his sweatpants, moving slow. He didn't hear me at first because he had headphones on.

I should've walked away. I should've screamed. I didn't.

I just stood there watching him inhale my scent like he was starving. His jaw was slack. His breathing was heavy. I could see the outline of his dick through his pants and god, it wasn't small.

He opened his eyes.

We stared at each other for a solid five seconds. He ripped the headphones off. His face went white. Then red. He shoved the panties behind his back like that would hide anything.

"I – fuck – I'm so sorry," he stammered. "I don't know why I – I just – they were in the laundry and I –"

I cut him off. "You could've just asked, you know."

He blinked. "What?"

I walked closer. He didn't move. I could smell myself on the panties still. That musky wet scent. His sweatpants were tented so hard I thought the button might pop.

"You're telling me you've been sneaking into my room sniffing my dirty laundry like some pervert," I said, "and you didn't even have the balls to just ask?"

He swallowed. "You would've said no."

"Maybe," I said. "Maybe not."

His breath hitched.

I sat down next to him on the bed. Close. Our thighs touching. He flinched but didn't pull away. I reached over and pulled the thong out from behind his back. Held it up. There was a wet spot on the gusset. His spit. Or mine from before. Didn't matter.

"You wanna make it up to me?" I asked.

"How?"

I stood up. Grabbed his hand. Pulled him toward my bathroom.

The shower was still warm from my mom using it earlier. Steam fogged up the glass. I turned the water back on and stepped inside without looking back to see if he was following.

He was.

He pulled his shirt off first. Then his sweatpants. His dick sprung out and god. It was thick. Not the longest I've seen but thick enough that I knew it would stretch me. The head was red and leaking already. He was so fucking hard it looked painful.

I was still wearing my jeans and tank top. Soaked instantly from the water. He watched the fabric cling to my skin. My nipples were hard. He could see everything.

"You're not gonna take those off?" he asked, voice rough.

"Make me."

That was all he needed.

He grabbed my hips and pressed me against the cold tile wall. His fingers fumbled with my jeans button. Too slow. I undid it myself and shoved them down. Kicked them off. He pulled my tank top over my head. I wasn't wearing a bra because I never do at home.

He stared at my tits. Water dripping down them. My nipples pointed right at him.

"Fuck," he whispered.

Then his mouth was on me.

He latched onto my left nipple like he was trying to drink from it. Sucking hard. His tongue flicking the tip. His other hand squeezed my right tit so hard I knew there'd be fingerprints. I moaned. I couldn't help it. He bit down gently and I gasped and grabbed his hair.

"You like that?" he mumbled against my skin.

"Yes. Fuck yes. Don't stop."

He switched to the other side. Licked a stripe up my neck. Bit my earlobe. His dick was pressing against my thigh, hot and heavy and so fucking wet from the water and his pre-cum.

"I'm still mad at you," I said, breathless.

"Then let me apologize properly."

He dropped to his knees.

I wasn't expecting that.

He grabbed my hips and pulled me forward. His face was right in front of my pussy. I was already soaked. Not from the shower. From watching him sniff my panties. From his mouth on my tits. From the sheer wrongness of it all.

He looked up at me. "You shave?"

"Sometimes."

"Good."

Then he licked me.

Right up the middle. Slow. Flat tongue from my opening to my clit. I grabbed the shower rod to stay upright. He did it again. And again. Each time slower. He started circling my clit with the tip of his tongue while his thumb pressed against my entrance.

"You taste so fucking good," he said. His voice was muffled because he wouldn't stop eating me. "Better than the panties. So much better."

I couldn't form words. I just held his head there and ground against his face.

He pushed two fingers inside me. Curved them upward. Found that spot immediately and pressed hard. I cried out. The water was running down my back. His fingers were fucking me slow and deep while his tongue worked my clit.

"I'm gonna – I'm gonna cum –" I gasped.

"Not yet," he said.

He pulled away.

I almost cried from the loss.

He stood up. Turned me around. Pushed my chest against the tile wall. The cold shock made me gasp. He spread my legs with his knee.

"Hands on the wall," he said.

I put them up.

He grabbed my hips. Pressed the head of his dick against my entrance. Just rested it there. I could feel how thick he was. How much I'd have to stretch.

"Say you forgive me," he said.

"Fuck you."

He pushed in.

Just the tip. I clenched around him automatically. He groaned so loud I heard it echo off the tiles.

"Say it."

"Please," I whispered. "Just fuck me."

He pushed deeper.

Halfway in. I was biting my lip so hard I tasted blood. He was so thick. Every inch made me feel fuller than I'd ever felt. Even with Alex. Especially with Alex.

"Full," I managed. "So full."

He bottomed out. His pelvis pressed against my ass. He held still for a second. Both of us breathing hard. The water was streaming down his chest onto my back.

Then he started moving.

Slow at first. Long strokes. Pulling almost all the way out and then sliding back in. I could feel every ridge. Every vein. He angled his hips differently and suddenly he was hitting something so deep I saw stars.

"Right there," I moaned. "Don't stop. Right fucking there."

He didn't.

He grabbed my wrists and pinned them above my head against the wall. One hand holding both. His other hand reached around and found my clit. Rubbed circles while he fucked me from behind.

"You're taking it so well," he grunted. "So fucking tight. You feel that? You feel how deep I am?"

"Yes yes yes –"

"I can feel you squeezing me. You're gonna cum again aren't you?"

I couldn't answer. I was so close. My legs were shaking. The sound of him slamming into me mixed with the water and my moans and his heavy breathing.

"Cum on my dick," he said. "Show me how sorry I am."

That sent me over.

I came so hard my vision went white. My whole body clenched. I screamed into the tile. He didn't stop. He fucked me through the whole orgasm, his fingers still working my clit, his dick still pounding that deep spot.

"Milk it," he groaned. "Milk my fucking dick."

I was still pulsing around him when he pulled out.

"Turn around," he said.

I turned.

He was stroking himself. Fast. His face was twisted up like he was in pain. Pre-cum mixing with the water on his stomach.

"Where?" he asked.

"On my tits."

He aimed.

The first shot hit my collarbone. The second and third landed right on my nipples. Hot and thick. Dripping down my chest. He kept stroking until nothing else came out. Then he leaned his forehead against mine. Both of us breathing ragged.

We stood there for a minute. Water washing some of it away. Not all of it.

"I'm sorry," he said again.

"Shut up," I said. And I kissed him.

We ended up back on the shower floor. He sat down and pulled me into his lap. I rode him slow while the water went cold. Not for long. Neither of us had energy. But I wanted to feel him inside me one more time before it ended.

We didn't talk about it after. He went to his room. I went to mine. My sheets still smell like him. I haven't washed them.

I caught him looking at my laundry basket yesterday. He didn't take anything. But he wanted to.

And honestly? I kind of want him to.

If you want more such stories with Spicy pics and nudes, DM "erotic book"

We lasted two years. Two years of lazy Sundays, borrowed hoodies, and fights that ended with his head in my lap while I played with his hair. Two years of good sex—comfortable sex. The kind where you know every scar, every ticklish spot, every sound they make right before they come.

Then he cheated. A co-worker. Three months. I found the texts, packed my bags, and didn't look back.

That was eight months ago.

I told myself I hated him. I told myself I was over it. I dated other men—nice men, boring men, men who didn't know how I liked my coffee. None of them made me wet. None of them made me forget.

At night, alone in my new apartment, I'd think about him. His hands. His mouth. The way he'd pull my hair just hard enough. I'd touch myself, furious and hungry, coming with his name on my lips and then crying from the shame of it.

Last night, he texted.

*I know I don't have the right. But I'm in town. Can we talk?*

I should have deleted it. Blocked him. Called my best friend to talk me down.

Instead, I typed: *My place. 9pm. Don't be late.*

He knocked at 8:57.

I opened the door, and there he was—Aaron. Twenty-six. Dark stubble, green eyes that used to look at me like I was home. He'd lost weight. Gained tattoos. Looked like he'd been through something.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi."

Silence. Then his hands were in my hair, his mouth on mine, and we were stumbling backward into my apartment. No talking. No explaining. Just teeth and tongues and the sound of both of us gasping like drowning survivors.

"Tell me to stop," he said against my neck.

"Shut up."

I pulled his shirt over his head. Ran my hands down his chest—harder than I remembered. New muscles. New ink. A chest piece I wanted to trace with my tongue.

He pushed my dress up, fingers finding me wet through my underwear.

"Fuck, Maya. Already?"

"You think I've been sitting around waiting for you?"

He smiled—that cocky smile I hated and loved. "I think you haven't stopped thinking about me."

I didn't answer. Because he was right.

He lifted me, carried me to the couch, laid me down. His mouth went between my thighs like he was starving, and I grabbed his hair, held him there, let the pleasure build until I was shaking, begging, crying out. He worked me with his tongue—slower than he used to, more deliberate. Like he had something to prove.

When I came, I screamed. My neighbor probably heard. I didn't care.

He rose above me, wiped his mouth, looked down at my naked, trembling body.

"You want this?" he asked.

"I want you to fuck me like you mean it. Like you're sorry. Like you remember exactly what you threw away."

He entered me in one stroke. Deep. Hard. Nothing like the gentle, comfortable sex we used to have. This was punishment. This was worship. This was two years of history and eight months of rage distilled into every thrust.

"Yes," I gasped. "Fuck, yes. Harder."

He grabbed my hips, angled me deeper, drove into me until I saw stars. I wrapped my legs around him, pulled him closer, let him split me open.

"You feel that?" he groaned. "Feel how wet you are for me?"

"Shut up and fuck me."

He flipped me over, pulled my hips up, entered me from behind. One hand fisted my hair, the other gripped my waist hard enough to bruise.

"Who does this pussy belong to?" he growled.

"You. Fuck—you. It's always been you."

I came again, sobbing this time, my body convulsing beneath him. He didn't stop. Kept fucking me through it, relentless, until I was nothing but sensation, nothing but need.

He pulled out, flipped me onto my back, and pushed my legs up to my chest.

"One more," he said.

"I can't—"

"Yes. You can."

He entered me again, slower this time, looking into my eyes. The rage was gone. Something softer had replaced it. Something more dangerous.

"I'm sorry," he said. "For everything."

"Show me. Don't tell me."

He did. He fucked me slow and deep, every inch deliberate, every stroke a confession. My third orgasm built like a wave—unstoppable, devastating. I came with his name on my lips, tears on my face, my nails digging into his back hard enough to draw blood.

He followed right after, buried deep, his groan muffled against my neck. I felt him pulse inside me—warm, wet, final.

After, we lay in the dark. His head on my chest. My fingers in his hair. The way we used to.

"I missed you," he whispered.

"I missed who I thought you were."

He flinched. Didn't argue.

We stayed like that for an hour. Maybe two. Then he got dressed, kissed my forehead, and walked out the door without looking back.

My phone buzzed an hour later. His text: *That wasn't goodbye. Not for me.*

I didn't answer.

But I also didn't delete it.

They say you can't go back. Maybe. But last night, on my couch, with his marks on my skin and his come still wet between my thighs, I went back. I fucked my ex harder than I ever fucked my boyfriend. And for a few hours, I didn't feel angry anymore.

Just alive.

Just wanted.

Just human.

I don't know what comes next. But I know one thing for sure—I'm not waiting eight more months to feel this way again.

Whether it's him or someone new.

My body woke up last night.

And she's hungry.

If you want more such stories with Spicy pics and nudes, DM "erotic book"

I need to get this off my chest because it's been living in my head rent free for weeks now. My stepbrother Jake (23) and I have always had this weird tension. Nothing creepy when we were kids. But after I turned 18 and he came back from college built like a person? Yeah. Something shifted.

Last month my mom and his dad went on a weekend trip. Left us alone in the house. Friday night we're watching some horror movie neither of us was paying attention to. He's on one end of the couch. I'm on the other. But slowly, somehow, we ended up closer.

He made some stupid joke about the movie. I laughed and punched his arm. He caught my wrist. Didn't let go.

"Jake" I said.

"What?" He had that stupid smirk.

I pulled my hand back. He held tighter. Not hard. Just enough to make my heart start racing.

"You're weird" I said.

"You started it" he said.

I didn't pull away again. He moved his thumb across my palm. Back and forth. Slow. I felt that touch everywhere. Like straight to my stomach. Lower.

"Your hands are shaking" he said.

"I'm cold" I lied.

He laughed. "Liar."

Then he leaned in and kissed me.

I'm not gonna pretend I tried to stop it. I didn't. I kissed him back. Hard. He tasted like beer and something sweet. His hand let go of my wrist and grabbed the back of my neck instead. Pulled me closer. I climbed onto his lap without even thinking about it. Straddled him right there on the couch.

He groaned into my mouth. I felt him getting hard under me. Couldn't miss it honestly. He's not small.

"You're so fucking wet already" he said against my lips. He'd put his hand down my shorts without me even noticing. Two fingers inside me. Curved up. I bucked against his hand and made this noise I didn't know I could make.

"Shut up" I said. But I meant don't stop.

He didn't stop.

I pulled his shirt over his head. Ran my hands down his chest. He's got that v shape. Happy trail. I bit his shoulder while he fingered me. Left a mark. He didn't complain. Just shoved my shorts down my hips and lifted me up like I weighed nothing.

"Bedroom" he said.

"Right here" I said.

He looked at me for a second. Then he flipped me onto my back on the couch cushions. Pulled my shorts and panties off in one go. Threw them somewhere. I didn't care.

He stood up just long enough to take his pants off. His dick was hard. Leaking. I reached for it without thinking. Wrapped my hand around the base. He's thick. I couldn't close my fingers all the way. I spit on my palm and stroked him twice. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back.

"If you keep doing that I'm gonna cum before I'm inside you" he said.

"Then get inside me" I said.

He dropped down between my legs. Rubbed the tip against my clit. Back and forth. Teasing. I was so wet I could hear it. That slick sound. He pushed in just the head at first. I grabbed his ass and pulled him deeper.

He bottomed out and we both just... stopped. Breathed. He was so deep I felt it in my throat. I wrapped my legs around his waist. Locked my ankles.

"Fuck Jake" I said.

"Yeah" he said. That was all.

Then he started moving.

Slow at first. Long strokes. Pulling almost all the way out and pushing back in. I could feel every inch. Every ridge. He put his forehead against mine and watched my face while he fucked me. Eye contact the whole time. It was so intimate it felt dirty.

"You like that?" he asked.

"Harder" I said.

He gave me harder.

He grabbed my hips and angled me up. Changed the depth. Started hitting something inside me that made my whole body jolt. I couldn't control the noises I was making. Loud. High pitched. Didn't care if the neighbors heard.

"Right there don't stop" I said.

He didn't stop.

He put one hand on my throat. Not squeezing. Just holding. His thumb pressed under my jaw. I looked up at him and he was watching me fall apart. I came. Hard. Clenched around him so tight he stopped moving and just groaned into my shoulder.

But I wasn't done.

I pushed him off me. He looked confused for a second. Then I grabbed his shoulders and shoved him onto his back on the floor. Couch too small. I needed room.

I climbed on top of him. Straddled his hips. Reached between us and guided him back inside me. Sunk down slow. Let him feel every inch of me taking him.

He grabbed my tits. Squeezed them. Pinched my nipples hard enough to make me gasp. I started riding him. Up and down. Grinding my clit against his pelvis on every stroke.

"You're so fucking wet" he said again. Like he couldn't believe it.

"That's what happens when your stepbrother fucks you like he hates you" I said.

He laughed. Then he grabbed my hips and started thrusting up into me. Meeting every drop. I leaned forward and put my hands on his chest for balance. My hair was everywhere. Sticking to my face. To his chest.

"I'm gonna cum again" I said.

"Cum on my dick" he said.

I did.

That one was different. Harder. My whole body shook. I collapsed forward onto his chest and he held me there while I clenched around him over and over. He kissed the top of my head. Weirdly sweet for a guy who was still buried inside his stepsister.

I thought we were done. I was sensitive. Overstimulated.

Then he flipped us over. Pushed my legs up to my chest. Mating press. He was so deep I couldn't breathe right.

"One more" he said.

"I can't" I said.

"Yes you can."

He fucked me slow. Deep. Grinding against my clit on every thrust. His hand was on my face. Thumb in my mouth. I sucked on it while he fucked me. Tasted myself on his skin.

That's when it happened.

I felt pressure building. Different from before. Like I had to pee but also like I was about to explode. I tried to push him off.

"Wait wait I'm gonna-"

He didn't wait.

He fucked me harder. Faster. I screamed. Not words. Just sound. And then I squirted. All over him. All over his stomach. His chest.

He looked down at himself. Then at me. Grinned.

"Do that again" he said.

"I can't" I said. But I could feel it building again already.

He pulled out. Moved down my body. Put his face between my legs before I could say anything. Licked me. From my ass to my clit. Slow. Flat tongue. Then he sucked on my clit while two fingers pumped inside me.

I grabbed his hair. Pulled. He groaned against me. The vibration sent me over again.

Second time I squirted directly onto his face.

He didn't pull back. Didn't wipe it off. Just kept licking me. Moaning like he was the one getting off on it.

"Again" he said. Muffled. Face still buried.

"I'm gonna pass out" I said.

He didn't care.

He pushed three fingers inside me. Curved them up. Pressed his thumb against my clit. Rubbed in circles while he fingered me hard. Fast. I was so loud. Didn't care anymore.

Third time I squirted so hard it hit his forehead. Dripped down his nose. His chin. He licked his lips and looked up at me with the nastiest smile I've ever seen.

"Good girl" he said.

I collapsed. Couldn't move. He climbed up next to me on the floor. Pulled me against his chest. His heart was pounding as hard as mine.

We lay there for maybe twenty minutes. Didn't talk. He played with my hair. I drew shapes on his stomach with my finger.

Eventually he said "we probably shouldn't tell anyone about this."

"Yeah probably not" I said.

He laughed. "Same time tomorrow?"

I hit his chest. But I was smiling.

We fucked three more times that weekend. But that first night? The three times he made me squirt on his face? I think about it literally every time I touch myself now. Which is a lot.

His parents and my mom still don't know. Jake looks at me across the dinner table sometimes and I have to excuse myself to the bathroom to cool down.

Worth it.

If you want more such stories with Spicy pics and nudes, DM "erotic book"

Look, I know how this sounds. I know the rules about stepfamily stuff on this sub. But this isn't a fantasy and it's not incest. We're step. Met when I was 16 and he was 19. Never grew up together. Barely talked until this year when we ended up in the same city. So if that still bothers you, stop reading now. I'm not here to argue. I'm here to confess.

This happened three weeks ago.

My stepbrother Jake (23M) had been texting me more lately. Casual stuff at first. Then flirty. Then one night he sent me a meme about shower sex with a winky face and I just said "lol" but my heart was pounding. I'd thought about it. Obviously I'd thought about it. He's tall, broad shoulders, that kind of messy brown hair, and a jawline that looks like it was carved. I'd caught myself staring at his hands more than once.

Anyway, last month he came over to help me move some furniture. New apartment, third floor, no elevator. By the time we finished carrying the couch up the stairs we were both sweating through our shirts. He took his off. Just casually. Like it was nothing.

I tried not to look but I'm only human. His chest. His arms. That V-line disappearing into his jeans. I felt myself get wet just standing there watching him drink water from my kitchen sink.

"Dude, put a shirt on," I said, laughing. Trying to play it cool.

He looked at me. "Why? Distracted?"

I didn't answer.

He walked toward me. Not fast. Just. Walked. Until he was close enough that I could smell his deodorant. Something clean and woodsy.

"You've been staring at me all day," he said.

"No I haven't."

"Liar."

My face was burning. "Jake, what are you–"

"I saw you looking at my hands earlier. At dinner last week. When I was cutting my steak. You stared for like a full five seconds."

I wanted to die. I didn't know he noticed.

"So what?" I said, trying to sound annoyed instead of turned on.

He reached out and tucked my hair behind my ear. Just that. One little touch. And I shivered like I'd been dunked in ice water.

"We're both sweaty," he said. "You wanna take a shower?"

I laughed because I thought he was joking. He didn't laugh.

"Jake, we can't."

"Why not?"

"Because you're my stepbrother? Because it's weird?"

He shrugged. "We're not blood. We didn't grow up together. We're literally just two people who happen to share a last name on some paperwork." He stepped closer. His chest almost touching mine. "And I know you want to. I can see it in your eyes every time you look at me."

I hated that he was right. I hated how wet I was just from him standing there. I hated that I couldn't think of a single good reason to say no.

"The bathroom door locks," I said quietly.

That was all he needed.

---

We walked to my bathroom. I didn't turn on the light. Just the little nightlight over the sink. Enough to see shadows and silhouettes.

He turned on the water. Let it run until steam started fogging up the mirror.

Then he turned to me.

"Take off your clothes," he said. Not a question.

I pulled my tank top over my head. Unhooked my bra. Let it fall. His eyes went straight to my tits. I saw him swallow.

"Keep going," he said, voice lower now.

I unbuttoned my shorts. Pushed them down. Stepped out of them. Stood there in just my panties. They were soaked through. I knew he could see the wet spot.

He reached out and hooked his fingers into the waistband. Pulled me toward him by it. Then he slid his hand inside. Pressed his palm flat against me.

"You're dripping," he said. Like he was surprised. Like he didn't already know.

"Because of you," I whispered.

He kissed me.

Not soft. Not romantic. Hard. His tongue in my mouth immediately. His hands grabbing my ass. Lifting me up against the bathroom wall. I wrapped my legs around his waist and felt his dick through his jeans. Hard. Thick. Pressing right against where I needed him.

"Please," I said against his mouth. I didn't even know what I was begging for.

He carried me into the shower.

---

The water was hot. Almost too hot. It hit my back as he pinned me against the tile wall. Cold tile on one side. Hot water on the other. His body pressed between.

He finally took his jeans off. His boxers. I watched his dick spring out. It was. God. It was pretty. Thick. Curved up slightly. Veiny. The kind of dick that makes your mouth water before you even touch it.

"You want it?" he asked.

"Obviously."

"Say it."

"I want it."

"Want what?"

"Your dick, Jake. I want your dick inside me."

He grabbed my thigh. Lifted my leg up. Opened me right up under the water.

And then he pushed in.

Not slow. Not gentle. He pushed in all the way in one stroke and I screamed. Not because it hurt. Because it was so much. So full. He filled me up completely and my head fell back against the tile and I just moaned.

"Fuck," he groaned. "You're so tight. Why are you so tight?"

I couldn't answer. I couldn't form words. He started moving. Pulling almost all the way out and then slamming back in. The sound of it. Skin slapping against skin. Water splashing everywhere. My moans bouncing off the bathroom walls.

He grabbed my hips. Held me in place. Fucked me harder. Deeper. His thumb found my clit and started rubbing circles while he pounded into me.

"I'm gonna cum," I gasped. "Oh my God, Jake, I'm gonna–"

"Cum on my dick," he said. "Do it. Now."

And I did. I came so hard my vision went white. My whole body clenched around him. He felt it. He groaned and buried his face in my neck and bit down on my shoulder while I rode it out.

He didn't stop.

He pulled out, turned me around, bent me over. My hands hit the tile. My face pressed against the wet wall. He kicked my feet apart and pushed back in from behind.

Doggie style in the shower is slippery. Dangerous almost. But he held onto my hips so tight I knew I wasn't going anywhere. He fucked me harder than anyone ever has. His balls slapping against my clit with every thrust. The water running down my back. Down his chest. Mixing with the sweat.

"You like that?" he grunted.

"Yes. Yes. Please don't stop."

"You like your stepbrother's dick?"

"I love it. I love it, I love it, I love–"

He reached around and grabbed my throat. Not choking. Just holding. His hand wrapped around the front of my neck. Pulling me back against his chest. Fucking me from behind with my back arched.

"You're gonna cum again," he said. It wasn't a question.

"I can't. I just did. I can't."

"Yes you can."

He sped up. His fingers found my clit again. Rubbing fast. Hard. In rhythm with his thrusts. I felt it building. That pressure. That heat. That desperate fucking need.

I came screaming. Full on screaming into the steam. My legs shaking. My knees buckling. He held me up. Didn't let me fall. Just kept fucking me through the whole thing.

Then he pulled out.

"Turn around," he said.

I turned. Dropped to my knees on the wet shower floor. The water hitting my face. My hair plastered to my cheeks.

He grabbed his dick. Stroked it twice. Three times.

"Open your mouth."

I opened.

He came on my tongue. Hot and thick. I swallowed some. Let the rest drip down my chin. The water washed it away before I could even taste it properly.

He stood there breathing hard. Looking down at me. His chest heaving. Water dripping off his hair.

"Fuck," he said. Just that one word.

I laughed. I don't know why. I just started laughing. And then he laughed too. And we sat there on the floor of my shower like two idiots while the water went cold.

We didn't talk about it after. He dried off. Put his jeans back on. Kissed me on the forehead like I was his little sister again. And then he left.

I touched myself twice more that night thinking about it.

If you want more such stories with Spicy pics and nudes, DM ''erotic book''