That morning, he took a shower first, and he was supposed to dress and go downstairs to make breakfast while I showered in peace. He knows that he isn’t supposed to watch me bathe unless I give him permission. I don’t like being “caught” scrubbing my pink parts while someone ogles me without my knowledge–I’m fairly easily embarrassed. I don’t mind being watched, but I prefer to know so that I can ensure my bathing is more sexy than utilitarian.
Unfortunately, because of the odd layout of my master bedroom and bathroom, configuration of vanity mirrors, and 180° glass shower enclosure, someone seated at the head of the bed has a direct line of sight to the shower area.
Since he had just showered, I didn’t have to wait for the water to heat up, and I got right in. After standing under the hot water for a few minutes, I turned slightly to reach the shampoo bottle. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him seated on the bed, looking in my direction. I continued washing my hair and checked again a few moments later. He hadn’t moved–he was seated facing me, bare-chested, towel wrapped around his waist, hair still damp and messy. I was sure he was watching me, but I looked away quickly so he wouldn’t know I had noticed.
Since I was being watched, I took my time and gave him a little show, slowly caressing my skin with soapy bubbles, lingering to let him see the water cascading over my curves. I turned slightly and extended my arms far in front of me, hoping he would enjoy seeing the profile of my ample breasts. I leaned over to lather my legs, offering him a good look at my ass.
I’m not exactly graceful, but I assume it was sexy enough. When I glanced again, he had pulled his towel open and was holding his stiff cock in his hand. He was sort of hunched over, shoulders rounded, head bowed slightly. He looked guilty and childlike as he fumbled with his cock.
Wanting to catch him in that exact position, I turned the water off quickly. In the sudden silence, he sat up straight and froze, still holding his cock in his fist. Perhaps he thought if he stayed very still, I might not notice him there.
“Do you like to watch?’ I called out.
“What?” He quickly covered himself with the towel and rested his hands in his lap.
“I can see you there, you know… I asked if you like to watch?”
“I didn’t think you could see me. I’m sorry Ma’am.”
“I’m going to ask you one more time…. Do you like to watch?”
“Yes Ma’am,” he said sheepishly, looking down at the floor. I hesitated a few moments, deciding what to do.
“Why don’t you come in?” I finally suggested.
He looked relieved. He smiled slightly, rose from the bed, and walked into the steamy room.
“Drop the towel.” I commanded, turning the water back on.
I swung the shower door open in invitation and he accepted quickly, entering and closing the door behind him.
Freshly scrubbed and naked, he stood at arms length, relaxed and smiling. I looked him over for a moment, admiring his graceful broad shoulders, smooth chest, and tight stomach, and the beautiful vulgarity of his hard cock, standing free between us.
“Kneel please,” I directed, gently.
He did so, obediently kneeling in front of me on the white porcelain tile. I continued washing myself under the warm water. On his knees, his face was inches from my pussy, and he stared for a few moments before lifting his head, revealing a maddeningly devilish smile and anticipation in his eyes.
If there had been pleading in his eyes, rather than smug anticipation, I might have let him come forward and pleasure me.
“No,” I said, careful not to smile. “You stay there. You said you like to watch.”
And so I let him watch. Achingly slowly, I let my hands glide over my stomach and hips, trailing down one thigh and back up the other. I turned so he could watch the warm water run down my shoulders and the small of my back, and over the curves of my hips and ass. Facing him again, I allowed my hands to slip across my shoulders, my collarbone, and over the fullness of my breasts, lingering on my pink nipples, hard despite the hot water and steamy room.
I felt his eyes wandering over me, I felt him wishing that my hands were his own, and I loved every second of it. Smooth and slick, I let my fingertips glide across my stomach, down over my hips, and over the tops of my thighs. I parted my legs slightly and guided my fingertips over my pussy, moving slowly, tracing lightly and teasingly. I dipped my fingertips into my soft folds and felt my own slippery wetness, persistent despite the streaming water. I watched his shoulders tense and he leaned forward slightly, looking hopeful. I withdrew and offered him a taste of me, allowing him to suck the juices from my fingertips.
“Did you like watching me?”
His response was quick and enthusiastic, “Yes Ma’am, I did.”
“I know you did.” I said, looking down at his still hard cock.
I curled my index finger in a “come hither” motion, directing him to move towards me. His thighs tightened as he rose slightly and dragged his knees across the tile. As he crawled forward, I took a half step back, staying just out of his reach.
“Down now,” I commanded.
After a split second of confusion, he leaned toward me and parted his lips, offering me his tongue. I rested my hand on his head and stopped him an inch from my crotch. He looked up into my face, tongue still stuck out, looking a little silly.
“No,” I laughed. “Not ‘go down now.’ Down now,” and I pointed to a spot on the floor an inch from the shower drain.
He retracted his tongue and obediently bent into the falling water, folding his body and resting his forehead on the tile. The water poured over the back of his head and neck. I stepped away to get a better look at his profile. His eyes were closed against the water, but his mouth was open wide–I imagined the water streaming down over his cheeks made it difficult to breathe through his nose.
I rested my foot on his shoulder, smiled, and continued bathing, confident he wouldn’t be able to watch me from there.