Been a good workout. Sniffs. She ain’t gonna like it if he comes in stinkin’ like this. Fine line between manly and hog-sweat, and he’s stepping over it. Still, he’s got himself a token for the shower.

Warm water on his skin, and he turns his face into it. Feels good.

Behind him, the door edges open. He don’t turn his head, but under his eyelids, the faintest gleam of blue. So, someone wants themselves a peepshow? He grins.

Takes a slow deliberate moment to let the liquid soap pool in his palm. Gets himself a good lather up.

Biceps, triceps flex as he puts his arms up to soap his scalp, takes himself a wider stance to keep his balance. (Shows off his hard butt, too, an’ he knows it.) His hard, strong fingers dig into the muscles base of his neck, pull out the tension, work out along his shoulders. Armpits and chest, careful of scars and bruises, and bubbles run down through dark chest hair, across the spread of his pecs, the planes of his abdominal muscles, down his groin in a warm stream.

He ain’t too surprised when two hands slide up round his buttocks, and make themselves kinda comfy elsewhere.

“You missed this bit.”

“Waitin’ for you.” His deep rumbling laugh. “It’s kinda hard to miss.”

“Well, yes.” One hand begins a slow exploration, and he groans deep in his throat. Two soft breasts press against his back. He’s growing hard, and her fingers circle the head of his shaft. “Still think it needs to be...inspected.”

Leans back against the tiles as she takes him in her warm mouth. Tang of soap and slick with more than water. Gentle tongue butterflies across him, quick and sure, then circles slowly, dips and teases. His hands tangle in her hair, hold her head as she kneels before him, intent, absorbed and utterly wicked. She shakes him off, holds his wrists back against the wall. Her game, her rules. She’s a small woman, but she takes him deep, enjoys him. Rocks herself, warm pressure the length of him. So many fast and hard, then slow and deep, then hard and fast again, until he groans. She won’t let him, not yet...

She stands, lets his cock trail down her body, between her breasts.

“Am I wet enough for you yet?”

He slips one hand between her legs, and she arches readily into his touch.

“Think you could do with some soapin’, you dirty girl...” Other hand cups a breast, and it’s her turn to moan, as his thumb circles her nipple. His mouth finds the other nipple, tongue busy. Beneath his questing hand, she moves, and he runs his fingers through warm furrows, finds a tender knot of tissue that makes her hitch her breath. She’s so ready...

Height difference ain’t a problem if you’re strong enough to lift your woman, hands under her thighs, and her legs around your waist, and back her into the wall. Enters her, a deep, steady thrust, and she meets him, grips his shoulders.

“Gonna take you hard and fast, woman.”

“So stop talking, big man.”

He grins at her, fierce and hot, buries his face in her neck and her heels kick a small tattoo against him as he drives. Small cubicle gets mighty loud, as he grunts, low animal sounds, and she yelps. Muscles spasm, and they jerk together, helpless, in a sputter of throaty laughter.

“When...did the water go off?”

“I weren’t noticing.” Catches up her mouth with his. “Gorram, but I think I done my ribs again...”