Watch through the crack

You shift your weight slightly against the exterior wall, your breath shallow and controlled as you watch Anne through the two-inch vertical slice of the doorway. The raw, uninhibited sight of her naked body, combined with the sharp contrast of the freezing alpine air against your bare skin, sends your own arousal spiking to an uncontrollable peak.

As her fingers move with a ****, frantic rhythm between her thighs, you reach down and wrap your hand around your fully exposed, aching cock. You begin to stroke yourself in perfect synchronization with her movements, matching her pace as the wet, rhythmic sounds of her self-pleasure filter out into the quiet morning air.

Inside, the pale morning light shifts. As you lean closer to the glass to intensify your stroke, your silhouette cuts directly across the narrow beam of gold light cutting through the crack in the door.

Anne’s eyes flutter open, heavy and glazed with passion. She freezes for a split second, her gaze locking onto the sudden, distinct shadow of a naked man projected against the polished hardwood floor right in front of her. She knows instantly who it is.

But she doesn’t stop.

Instead of panic, a wild, exhibitionistic thrill flashes through her expression. Her breath hitches, and maintaining her stare directly at your shadow, she intentionally widens her stance. She grips the edge of the massage table even tighter and begins to work her fingers into her slick warmth with an even more aggressive, frantic intensity, deliberately putting on a show for the silhouette in the doorway.

The explicit validation shatters your remaining restraint. Your strokes become fast and heavy, the friction building rapidly as you watch her hips roll in **** circles. The heat between you both is suffocating, spanning across the small gap of the doorway.

Suddenly, Anne’s body tenses completely. Her toes curl hard against the floor as a deep, shuddering tremor ripples through her frame. She lets out a soft, prolonged moan, her head tilting back as she arches into a powerful, pulsing climax.

Watching her surrender completely to the release pushes you over the edge. A heartbeat later, your own body goes rigid. With a few final, heavy strokes, you shoot a massive, thick torrent of cum straight past the threshold. It splashes heavily onto the cedar decking and the threshold of the cracked doorway, leaving a huge, conspicuous puddle of white cream pooling right where the warm interior air meets the freezing mountain mist.

Before she can fully open her eyes or lower her head from the aftershocks of her orgasm, you quietly and swiftly step back into the low-hanging fog. Leaving the massive puddle of cum glistening on the floor as an undeniable marker of your presence, you retreat silently down the timber path, disappearing into the morning gray before she can even catch her breath.