Her hands slid lower, over her belly, then between her legs. She spread her stance a little, fingers dipping into her pussy, scooping out the last traces of my cum. She brought them to her mouth, licked them clean, moaning softly.
"Still full of you," she murmured, eyes on me. "Taste us together… so dirty."
She rubbed her clit now, slow circles, hips rolling under the water. Her other hand kneaded her ass, spreading it slightly, giving me a view.
I gripped the counter harder, breathing heavier.
She washed properly then—hands gliding over every curve, soaping her thighs, her ass, between her cheeks. Water ran clear down her body, washing away the evidence of earlier, but the sight of her touching herself stayed burned in my mind.
She turned off the water, stepped out dripping, grabbed a towel. Dried her hair first, then her tits, slow and deliberate, then lower.
Just as she reached for fresh clothes folded on the shelf, I stopped her. "You can wear those once I'm gone, right?"
