Shower time means more content

The second the word 'shower' leaves your lips, Alex's eyes light up like a fucking predator spotting wounded prey. 'Fuck yes! Genius!' They snatch the camcorder off the desk before you can even blink, the red recording light already blinking like a tiny demon eye. 'Move it, Red! Don't wanna lose that... authentic post-fuck glow.' They practically shove you out of the cluttered office, their excitement buzzing against your back like static electricity. The sticky mess between your thighs – Alex's cum mixed with that weird, cold gel – is already starting to itch. You stumble down the short, dingy hallway towards the tiny employee bathroom, Alex hot on your heels, already fiddling with the camera settings. 'Gonna be pure gold, Flora. Solo shower scene? Raw, ****, real... customers'll eat that shit up.'

You push open the flimsy bathroom door. It's barely bigger than a closet – cracked linoleum, a stained toilet, and a cramped shower stall with a mildewed curtain. Alex shoulders past you, their lean frame surprisingly strong. 'Perfect,' they mutter, scanning the tight space. They kick a pile of dirty towels aside with their boot. 'Okay, camera goes... here.' They jam the camcorder onto a wobbly shelf stacked with toilet paper rolls, angling it down towards the shower stall. The red light stares accusingly. 'Strip. Slow. Make 'em wait for it.' Alex leans against the sink, crossing their arms, the camera already whirring softly. 'Showtime, superstar.'

The air feels thick, humid even before the water's on. You meet Alex's gaze in the grimy mirror over the sink. There's that familiar challenge in their hazel eyes, mixed with a heat that makes your stomach flip. You take a shaky breath. Fuck it. You need this shower. And if Alex wants a show... they'll get one. Your fingers go to the buttons of your flannel shirt. You pop them open one by one, letting the fabric slide off your shoulders, pooling on the floor at your feet. The cool air nips at your bare skin. You unhook your bra next, tossing it aside, your tits bouncing free. Alex's gaze rakes over you, lingering on your nipples, already hard and pebbled. 'Yeah...' they murmur, low and approving. Your hands go to your jeans. You wiggle them down your hips, stepping out of them, then your damp panties. You stand naked in the cramped space, the camera lens drinking in every curve, every freckle. You feel exposed, raw... but a strange thrill snakes through you too.

You yank the stiff plastic shower curtain aside with a rattle. The metal rings screech in protest. Stepping into the tiny stall, you fumble with the knobs. A blast of icy water hits you first, making you gasp, then it evens out into a lukewarm spray. You tilt your head back, letting the water sluice over your face, your fiery hair plastering to your skull and shoulders. The gel and cum start to wash away from your thighs, swirling down the drain in milky streaks. You run your hands over your body, slicking water over your breasts, your stomach. 'Touch yourself,' Alex's voice cuts through the spray, sharp and commanding from just outside the curtain. 'Make it look good. Think about why you're so fucking wet.'

Your hand drifts lower, through the wet curls between your legs. Your fingers find your clit, swollen and sensitive. A soft moan escapes you as you rub slow circles. The water pulses against your back, warm now. You close your eyes. Instantly, images flood your mind – Marcus, huge and powerful, slamming into you, filling you up... Alex's possessive grip, their cock pumping deep... but then it shifts. It's not just fucking anymore. It's... claiming. Breeding. A faceless man, strong and insistent, pinning you down, fucking you relentlessly, his seed pumping deep, taking root. The fantasy ignites something primal deep in your belly. Your fingers slide lower, slipping easily into your soaked pussy. 'Fuck yeah,' Alex breathes, the camera whirring. 'That's it. Show me.'

You push two fingers deep inside yourself, curling them, searching for that sweet spot. Your thumb rubs frantic circles on your clit. The fantasy intensifies – being held down, filled over and over, your belly swelling... a ****, needy ache blooms low in your core. 'Oh god...' you whimper, your hips bucking against your own hand. 'Need it... need it deep...' You imagine thick cock stretching you, pumping you full, claiming you. Your fingers plunge faster, fucking yourself hard, the wet squelching sounds loud even over the shower spray. You add a third finger, stretching yourself wide, mimicking that feeling of being stuffed full, bred. 'Yes! Fuck! Breed me!' you cry out, the words torn from you, raw and ****. The coil inside you snaps violently. Your back arches, slamming against the cool tiles. A guttural scream rips from your throat as your orgasm explodes, wave after wave of blinding pleasure crashing through you. Your knees buckle, but you hold yourself up, trembling violently, your fingers still buried deep inside your convulsing pussy, milking the last pulses of ecstasy. Slowly, shakily, you open your eyes. The steam fogs the plastic curtain. Alex is still there, camera trained on you, their breathing ragged. 'Holy... fucking... shit,' they whispers, awed. 'That... that was the one.'