Flopping My Softy Around the Bathroom

Cheri had been watching the raw clip with a little smile.

Manny in the bathroom, completely naked, soft cock heavy between his thighs as he moved around—reaching for a towel, turning to the mirror, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Every motion made it swing and flop with real weight, the thick soft length slapping lightly against his thigh before settling again. No performance. Just a softy being a softy in the most ordinary room in the house.

She turned the phone toward him.

“Flopping my softy around the bathroom,” she said. “That’s the title. I want the camera to catch the way it moves when you don’t think about it.”

Manny glanced at the paused frame. “You’re directing me walking around soft.”

“I’m directing the weight of it,” she said, already reaching for him. “And then I’m going to need it when you’re done flopping.”

That evening she set the camera on the bathroom counter, angled low so it would catch him from mid-thigh up while still showing the full swing of his cock. Soft vanity lighting. She stripped completely and stood naked just outside the doorway, two fingers already moving between her legs while she checked the small monitor. Manny stood in the middle of the bathroom, soft thick cock hanging heavy and full.

Her voice came through the mic quiet and calm.

“Just move around. Soft. Natural. Reach for something. Turn. Let it flop. Don’t try to make it do anything.”

Manny kept his eyes on her. Cheri’s fingers circled her clit as she spoke.

“There. Like that. Feel the weight of it when you turn… yeah. Keep going.”

He stepped toward the towel rack. The soft cock swung forward and slapped lightly against his thigh. He turned to the mirror. It followed the motion in a slow, heavy arc. Cheri’s breath caught. She let the camera run on the unhurried movement—the way the thick soft length shifted, bounced, settled—then paused the recording.

The second the light went off she stepped into the bathroom, dropped to her knees on the mat, and took his soft cock in both hands. She lifted it, felt the full weight of it across her palms, then leaned in and sucked the head wet and slow, working him with her tongue until he thickened just enough to feel heavier. She didn’t get him hard. She wanted him still soft, just glossier. Then she stood, wiped her mouth, and went back to the doorway.

She hit record again.

“Still soft,” she said, breathier now. “Keep moving. Let it swing. Let them see how thick it stays even like this.”

Manny walked the short length of the bathroom again, turning, reaching, shifting. The soft cock flopped with every step, heavy and shameless. Cheri’s fingers pushed deeper between her legs.

“Yeah. Just like that. No hands. Just the softy doing what it does.”

She paused once more. This time she stepped in, wrapped her fingers around him, and gave the soft cock a few slow, wet strokes—enough to make it glisten and thicken a little more—then let it drop and watched it settle against his thigh before returning to the camera.

“Last part,” she said, voice lower. “Move around one more time. Slow. Let it flop. When you’re done… stop.”

She let the camera run while Manny shifted and turned in the small space, the thick soft cock swinging freely, until her own thighs were trembling. Then she stopped the recording.

The second the light went off the bathroom stopped being a set.

Manny grabbed her, lifted her onto the counter beside the sink, and stepped between her legs. Cheri guided his cock—still only half-hard and slick from her mouth—against her soaked entrance and sank down onto him with a shaky exhale as he pushed inside. He thickened the rest of the way inside her, stretching her open with every inch, until he was fully hard and buried deep.

He fucked her there on the counter in steady, deep strokes, one hand braced on the mirror, the other gripping her hip. The wet sound of his cock driving into her filled the small bathroom. Cheri came hard, a heavy rush of fluid spilling out around him and dripping onto the cabinet below. He kept thrusting through it, and another climax followed while she was still shaking, her legs tightening around his waist as more wetness soaked both of them.

He pulled her off the counter without leaving her body and turned her to face the mirror, bending her forward slightly. He thrust back into her from behind, one hand sliding up to cup her breast, the other finding her clit. Cheri watched their reflection while he fucked her—watched the way his cock disappeared inside her on every stroke—and came again with a broken sound, her pussy clenching hard around him. He rubbed her clit in tight circles and she came once more, wetter, her free hand smearing the mirror as her knees nearly gave out.

When he finally pushed deep and finished inside her with a low groan, Cheri reached back and held him there, keeping him buried while the last pulses faded. They stayed like that for a long moment, breathing hard, the bathroom quiet except for the sound of their breathing and the faint drip of water in the sink.

After a while Cheri turned her head and caught his mouth in a slow, deep kiss. When she pulled back her voice was soft and satisfied.

“I made them watch it flop around the bathroom,” she murmured. “Soft. Heavy. Careless. And then I got to feel what it turns into when you stop flopping and start fucking me.”

She kissed him again, slower, and made no move to let him pull out.