Aiden needs a shower

One hand braced against the tile. The other already wrapped around himself, moving with deliberate slowness.

He tried to pretend it wasn’t about her. That the day hadn’t started with the shape of her ass becoming burned into his memory. That she hadn’t looked right at him as she stood upright on that balcony, stretching in the morning light. Or her eyes catching his, lips parting like she was slightly surprised before she moved again.

He’d tried to walk away. Tried not to linger, and then she bent forward into that pose. That stretch.

Her legs widened, spine folding over, and presenting her ass to him. The fabric of her leggings clung like a second skin, hugging every curve and drawing his eye, with no chance of restraint. The waistband sat high on her waist, emphasizing the narrowest part of her body before flaring out into the soft, full roundness of her hips. The seam between her cheeks carved a clean, defined line, exaggerating the dip where her thighs met and hugging the subtle swell of her mound in a way no modest athletic wear should’ve been allowed.

Fucking yoga pants, he thought.

His breath caught before he even realized he was staring. His mind was frozen in that moment. She had to know he was still there, standing in full view through the patio door. She could’ve turned the other way. Could’ve faced her ass away from him, or chosen another stretch, anything to move her body away from his line of sight. But she hadn’t. Whether it was intentional or just the next motion in her routine didn’t matter anymore.

Now, with the hot water streaming down his back and the soapy slickness of his palm stroking slowly along the full length of his cock, he wasn’t pretending it wasn’t about her anymore. The day had started with the details of her body being burned into his memory. Her narrow waist, full breasts, the incredible way her ass had flexed and stretched with each breath she took. He hadn’t truly seen her figure before that morning. Not in this detail, at least. Not as the real, physical woman who slept across the hall from him, whose body now replayed behind his eyes with perfect clarity.

She wasn’t just a fantasy like the girls in his shows or the videos in the hidden folders on his laptop. She moved with grace and a quiet strength, fluid and real in a way no animation could ever replicate. She wasn’t exaggerated. The way her muscles shifted beneath her skin, the curve of her waist when she twisted, the not-so-subtle shifting of her breasts as she rose. It was all real.

His hand kept moving, slow and steady, his other palm braced against the tile to keep himself upright. He imagined her catching him now, eyes flicking back at him from between her legs, upside down and mischievous. Watching him, like she wanted to see what she’d done to him. Maybe even proud of it.

His strokes grew faster, and more urgent. The muscles coiled tight, ash his thighs locked, with every nerve focused on the image of her bent over, hair falling, arms stretched, ass tilted just so. That impossible pose burned behind his eyes, replaying on loop. He was positive she knew what she was doing when she chose that next pose.

But it wasn’t just the image. It was the sound, too, of that first night, when he’d heard her. Not just a voice. But hers, Natalie’s, sexy friend that used to come over to their house. Along with his own mother’s. Soft and needy, rising beneath the covers as she begged for more. As Lisa pushed her. As she moaned louder, dirtier, like she couldn’t help herself. He’d never looked at his mom as anything more than his mom, but in this moment, he wasn’t about to slow down to try and shake the memory. He just needed to cum.

So now, with that memory layered over her body in motion, her curves wrapped in second skin, ass flexing under that seam as she bent forward for him, and the unexpected twist of his own mother’s voice egging her on in his head, he couldn’t hold back any longer.

His free hand dropped to the base of his cock. He pinched hard, trapping the pressure for one more breathless second. His grip tightened. His rhythm faltered. He let out a stifled groan into his shoulder.

And then he let go, letting the his cum explode out of him.

His hips bucked forward as the first spurt came out thick and forceful, splattering against the tile. Another shot, higher up, streaking across the wall. Then another. Long, hot ribbons of cum painting the surface in ragged lines as his body shuddered through each pulse.

He didn’t stop until he was drained, his hand finally slowing, allowing his grip to loosen and his body to twitch. His chest heaved, standing in the hot water. The spray of the water couldn’t mask the mess he’d made. It streamed slowly down the wall, clinging stubbornly in trails.

Aiden braced his forearm against the tile, resting his forehead there as he breathed. Trying not to picture her on that balcony anymore. Or her lips parted when she saw him. Or the sound of her voice, gasping into the dark of his room.

He just stood there, stunned and raw, as he watched his cum slide down the tile and swirled toward the drain. Taking a minute, he finally cupped some water in his palms and splashing it against the wall to wash it away.

Enjoying the story? You can support my work on Patreon where this story is currently through chapter 78 at the time of this posting. Happy reading!