Eventually

Emily leaned against the tile, her chest heaving, breasts still heavy and glistening, nipples swollen and overstimulated. Her legs were jelly. Her cunt throbbed, fluttering faintly around the last traces of him. She felt his cum trickling out slowly, washed away in the hot downpour around their ankles.

Behind her, Ryan stood panting, his body twitching, his cock still thick but softening now, glistening with their slick. He steadied her with both hands, his forehead resting lightly against the back of her shoulder.

They didn’t speak right away.

The water was the only sound. The rush of heat, the hiss of the spray.

Then, softly:

“…Was that okay?” Ryan asked. “I mean… for you?”

She turned her head just enough to glance at him from over her shoulder, her mouth curling into a slow smile despite the heat still thrumming in her veins.

“You were amazing,” she whispered, voice low, warm. “I mean it.”

He looked like he wanted to believe her but needed to hear it again. She reached back blindly, found his hand, squeezed it.

“You felt incredible,” she added, quieter now, leaning her weight into him. “You are incredible.”

That made him exhale hard, half-laughing. His lips brushed her shoulder once, uncertain but sweet.

“Okay,” he murmured.

They stood there a moment longer, steam curling thick around their bodies. Then Emily moved first—carefully peeling herself from the wall, groaning softly as her thighs protested and her hips reminded her exactly what they’d just done.

“I need to sneak back out,” she muttered, running both hands through her soaked hair. “Before anyone else sees me.”

“I’ll cover you.”

They worked quickly. She wiped herself clean with his towel, grabbed hers off the hook, and he peeked out of the curtain to scout the row. When he waved her forward, she darted past him—bare, breathless, sore—and he followed a second later, just close enough to block anyone’s view of her naked backside as she crossed the open space between the men’s and women’s locker rooms.

Inside the safer warmth of the women’s side, she ducked behind the corner.

He stayed at the door.

“…Wait,” she whispered, peeking out. “Your number.”

He grinned, eyes bright. “You want it?”

She arched a brow. “I just fucked you senseless. I’m not letting you disappear.”

He laughed again, soft and breathless, and rattled off the digits.

She repeated them twice, burned them into memory.

Then, after a pause, she stepped close again, one last kiss—quick, soft, lingering on the corner of his mouth—and disappeared inside to change.

Her last sight of him was Ryan standing at the edge of the doorway, still dripping, still stunned, cock twitching faintly one last time.