That’s why when her image appears in the doorway, through the steam of the shower, I don’t break my rhythm. Chloe’s there, her wild red hair and expressive eyes watching me and I meet her stare head on. Her baggy t-shirt covers her tiny shorts, making it appear like she’s got nothing on underneath. Even through the steam I can make out the peaks of her nipples through her shirt. My mouth aches to taste one. I stroke harder, my hand tightening around my shaft. Knowing Chloe’s eyes are on me, taking in every detail as I stroke myself, only urges me on. With each pull, I roll my wrist, squeezing
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