AR - Means and Ends Part 6

“She wants a shower,” Stef says, getting comfortable. She spreads her arms like a jock at a movie theater sitting between two girls. Adella tolerates it. “She’s girly like that,” Stef adds, playing it cool like you and Adella aren’t onto her. “But you know,” she says, looking back and forth between you two, then focusing on Adella. “A lot of household accidents happen in the shower. And she had all those drinks. Maybe she shouldn’t be alone up there.”

“You’re right,” you say, jumping to your feet.

Stef doesn’t play it cool quite as convincingly when you turn the tables on her. She obviously wants Adella to go upstairs so she can stay here with you.

“Don’t worry,” you add, shifting your weight to one hip and smirking down at her. “I’ll take good care of her.”

“Um,” Stef says, licking her lips, but you march out into the hall.

You don’t know what Adella would’ve done if she’d had time to make the call, but you don’t care. You don’t dislike Stef, but you just feel obligated to push back a little. Embarrassed, but turned on and committed, you head up the steps into the Gibson house. The upstairs is just as clean and tasteful as the rest, at least until you get to the master bedroom, where the door is open. The clothes on the floor belong to Stef, and the room is clearly divided into two halves. The girly half is much neater.

The door to the master bath is ajar, and water’s running inside.

“Hey,” you say, knocking loudly as you go in.

“Oh!” Jessica turns around. They have a big, glass walk-in shower, and she didn’t even bother closing the door. She’s already under the water, and you see her from head to toe, her luscious, womanly form gleaming and dripping. The view assaults you: her ample breasts, which she was holding up so she could wash herself, her blonde, neatly groomed bush, the soapy suds rolling down her smooth skin, and the tiny heart tattoo on her round butt.

“Stef wanted Adella to make sure you don’t slip,” you say, struggling out of your top, then your sports bra. “I came instead.” Her eyes widen as you push down your leggings and underwear, revealing a generous and perky-looking half-chub. “You don’t mind, right?”

“Uh-huh,” she says breathlessly. You kick the leggings away, peel off your socks, and step in with her, going right up face to face and chest to chest. You’re the same height. She’s frozen in place as you take her face in your hands and look into her eyes.

“Are you going to talk about my mom all night?” you ask.

“Nope,” she squeaks.