"Oh, she went for groceries and stuff," Brittany said, glancing toward the window. "The rain had let up a little now, so she'll probably be back soon."

No sooner had the words left her mouth than thunder cracked loud outside—sharp and booming, rattling the windows. The rain hammered harder against the glass, turning from a steady pour into a full downpour again, sheets of water slamming the building.

We both looked at each other, then at the storm.

"I guess Mom's gonna be late after all," she said with a small laugh, biting her lip as her eyes flicked down to the bundle of clothes I was still using to cover myself.

The air in the apartment thickened, the sound of the rain filling the silence between us.

And just like that, the plans for my shower took a very different turn.

"I should hop in the hot shower," I said, shaking water from my hair like a dog. "Don't want to catch a cold, right?"

Brittany laughed softly, nodding. "Yeah, go ahead. Towels are in the cabinet."

I grinned and headed down the hall to the bathroom, dripping the whole way. I tossed the soaked bundle of clothes into the laundry basket by the door, then stepped under the shower and turned the hot water on full blast.

Steam filled the room fast, the heat sinking into my skin, washing away the rain and the chill. I closed my eyes, letting it pour over me.

This was the same shower where I'd fucked Tiffany for the first time—bent her over right here, her hands braced on these tiles, ass bouncing while I railed her from behind. The memory hit hard; my cock twitched, already half-hard again from everything with Autumn.

I grabbed the soap and started washing—shoulders, chest, down my stomach. When I reached my dick, it was thickening in my hand, heavy and sensitive from the day's nonstop action. I cleaned it slow, stroking a little more than necessary, the hot water making everything slick.

Knock knock on the bathroom door.

"Alex? You okay in there?" Brittany's voice, soft and a little hesitant. "Do you need anything?"

"I'm good, Brittany," I called back, smirking under the spray. "Thanks for asking."

There was a pause.

"Um… I wanted to ask you something," she said. "Is it okay if I come in?"

I didn't even hesitate. "Yeah, it's okay. You can come in."

The door creaked open slowly, steam billowing out. She stepped inside, eyes finding me immediately through the glass shower door—naked, water streaming down my body, cock thick and half-hard in my hand.

She froze for a second, cheeks flushing deep red, but she didn't look away.

The air in the small bathroom thickened instantly.

And I just stood there, letting her look.

"Umm… Alex," she said, voice soft, almost shy, but with a needy edge. "Can I help you wash your back? I feel bad about… using you like that yesterday."

I smirked, playing it cool under the hot spray. "It's okay, Brittany. You don't need to."

"I really insist," she said again, stepping closer, eyes flicking down to my cock before meeting mine. There was hunger there now, unmistakable.

I chuckled low. "Alright. Come here."

Her face lit up—happy, relieved, excited. She started stripping slow, teasing almost. First the black gym vest—peeling it up over her head, those young, full tits bouncing free, nipples already hard from the steam or anticipation.

Then the gray cargo pants—shimmying them down her hips, revealing she was completely commando underneath, no panties at all. Her smooth pussy came into view, lips puffy and pink, a faint glisten already there.

"Nothing underneath, huh?" I teased, voice rough.

She blushed hard, biting her lip, embarrassed but turned on. "I… was just lounging…"

She tied her hair quick into a messy ponytail, water from the steam already beading on her skin, then stepped into the shower with me. Damn, her body was perfection—young, tight, curves in all the right places. I could lick her everywhere and never get enough.

The weather outside rumbled—thunder low, rain still hammering—but in here it was just us.

Tiffany gone for who knows how long, and her daughter standing naked and dripping in front of me, water trailing down her young, tight curves while my cock throbbed hard, straining for her.

That thought alone—fucking Tiffany's own daughter right in her shower, while she was out—made me even hornier, a dark, possessive rush hitting me like lightning. No one home to interrupt. Just us.

She grabbed the little shower stool, placed it behind me. "Sit," she said softly, hands on my shoulders pushing gently. I was taller; she couldn't reach properly otherwise.

I sat on the little stool, the height dropping me just right so she could reach my back easily.

She poured body gel into her palms, rubbed them warm, then started on my back—soft hands gliding slow, pressing into my shoulders, down my spine. Damn, it felt good—her fingers kneading, nails grazing lightly.

She leaned over my shoulder to reach better, tits brushing my back, breath warm on my neck. She kept glancing down at it, biting her lip.

"Am I doing good?" she whispered, voice needy, hands sliding lower on my back.

"Real good," I rasped, reaching back to squeeze her thigh—playful, fingers digging in just enough to tickle and tease the soft, wet skin.

She moaned softly at the touch, hands sliding lower on my back.

Then she leaned in closer, her tits pressing fuller against my shoulder blades, breath hot on my neck.

"Should I… wash there?" she whispered, voice trying to sound innocent, but the needy edge gave her away completely.

I knew exactly what she meant.

"Sure," I rasped, smirking. "Wash it good."

She didn't hesitate. Her right hand slid around from the side, slow and deliberate, her body molding tighter to my back—those young, firm tits squishing warm and slick against me as she reached down.

Her fingers wrapped around my cock—barely able to close around the thickness, it throbbed hard the instant she touched it, jumping in her grip like it recognized her.

She gasped softly, feeling how thick and wild it was today—swollen from the day's nonstop action, veins pulsing under her palm.

She started stroking slow, pouring more gel over it, lathering up with slippery hands. Up and down, twisting lightly at the head, fingers gliding smooth from base to tip. We both knew it wasn't just a wash anymore—her grip tightened, pace quickening just a fraction, thumb circling the sensitive underside on every upstroke.

"Like this?" she whispered, voice breathy, pressing her tits harder against my back as she worked me, hips shifting behind me like she was grinding on air.

"Exactly like that," I groaned, leaning back into her, letting her take control.

Her strokes slowed, then tightened, breath coming hot and fast against my neck.

"Alex…" she whispered, voice trembling with need, tits pressed so hard against my back I could feel her nipples like bullets. "Please… take me again."

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