A Friend's Hospitality

Vicky's couch-hopping days are numbered. She's worn out her welcome everywhere, bags packed again, until Marcus throws her a lifeline—his place, indefinitely. "Shower's yours," he tells her like it's nothing, cool guy grin in place. She's barely under the water before he busts in, cocks a seat on the toilet like it's his favorite show. Every inch she runs her hands over, he watches—tits, ass, the slick heat between her thighs. Turns out this wasn't charity. Vicky's got nowhere else to turn, so she keeps rinsing while he stares, lets her fingers linger where he can see. If that's the price of staying, she's paying it with every soapy curve on display, nipples tight, pussy throbbing under his hungry gaze. He smirks like he owns the view. She moans a little too loud, letting him know she's down for whatever else he's got in mind.