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Aunt Cass masturbating under the shower while you watch (PART 2)
🕑 Added 2025-02-28 18:00:10 +0000 UTCSteam clings to the glass, blurring the world outside the shower in a hazy veil. The warm water cascades over her skin, rivulets running down the curves of her body, catching the dim glow of the bathroom light. The air is thick with heat, the scent of vanilla and amber soap lingering around her, wrapping her in something soft, intoxicating.
And she knows you’re watching.
Cass smirks, tilting her head slightly, letting the hot water soak into her hair, her fingers raking through the damp strands. There’s something delicious about this—about feeling your gaze on her, about knowing she has your full, undivided attention. It sends a slow, teasing shiver down her spine, makes her linger just a little longer under the spray, makes her movements just a little more deliberate.
She sighs, running her hands over her body, tracing slow circles over glistening skin, her touch featherlight, teasing. Her breath hitches as she lets her fingers wander, following the curves of her waist, her hips, the places where heat pools beneath her touch. She isn’t in a hurry. No, she wants to savor this. And she wants you to savor it too.
Her fingers dip lower, her lips parting slightly, a quiet gasp barely escaping over the steady hum of the water. She leans against the tiled wall, her body arching into her own touch, her muscles tensing as she gives in just a little more. Her lashes flutter as she glances at you, eyes dark with something playful, something knowing.
She could stop.
She should stop.
But she won’t.
Not when it feels this good. Not when the heat curling through her body makes her breath quicken, her pulse race, her knees go weak beneath the weight of her own pleasure. She closes her eyes for a moment, biting her lip, lost in the sensation, lost in the way it builds, higher, hotter, more intense with every lingering second.
And then, as if remembering that she isn’t alone, she opens her eyes again—locking onto you, holding your gaze as she reaches for something just beyond view.
Her fingers wrap around it, gripping it tight, her smirk deepening as she tilts her head ever so slightly, waiting, daring you to keep watching. The water still drips from her fingertips as she moves, slow, deliberate, savoring every second, every reaction.
She isn’t just doing this for herself.
She’s doing it for you.
And she’s not stopping until you’ve seen everything.
