He moved in front of me, his body just a breath away. And then, without a word, his towel fell to the floor.
My eyes widened before I could stop them. His cock hung right there. Thick, dark and heavy. My breath stuck. I turned my face away in shock, cheeks burning, heart hammering. But the image was already printed into my eyes. That thing… so close. So vulgar. My thighs squeezed together, and I hated how wet I already was.
He let out a lazy chuckle. "Hmm, could you give me the towel?" he said, like it was the most innocent request in the world. "I can't bend down, you see."
He didn't need to say anything more. I knew what this was. I knew what he was doing. I knew where this could lead. And still, I stayed frozen. My face turned away, but my body wouldn't move. I reached my hand down blindly, searching for the towel on the floor, trying not to look. But my fingers grabbed nothing. I leaned lower, my hand still fumbling. Still nothing.
I finally gave in and turned to look.
And there it was.
Not the towel.
His cock.
Right there.
Swinging at my eye level. So close I could feel the heat from it. So thick, so real, it almost brushed my cheek.
My lips opened without realizing it. My breath shallow. I stared. My body trembled. My knees weakened. My pussy was pulsing, aching, begging. All the guilt I had been trying to carry crumbled under the weight of this moment.
Was this the time? The moment I crossed the line completely? Just him and me. Alone in a locked bathroom. His cock right in front of me like an offering, and I was just staring like a desperate woman.
Then he smirked and said, "How about giving me the towel first and doing the staring or maybe more later?"
My heart dropped. Shame crashed into me. I had been caught.
I blinked and snapped out of it, cheeks on fire. I looked down, quickly grabbed the towel from where it had fallen between us, and shoved it into his hand without a word.
I didn't meet his eyes. I couldn't. I felt humiliated, exposed, turned on in the worst possible way.
I finally asked him what was wrong, trying to sound normal. My voice cracked a bit.
He didn't answer right away. Just looked at me. That smug, knowing grin still on his face, like he could already see me bent over.
"There's a valve under there," he said casually. "Right under the basin. It controls the hot water. I need you to twist it open. I hope you dont mind helping this old man again.
Mind? Not anymore.
I crouched down, knees spread, pretending like I was focused on the valve. My fingers fumbled under the sink, brushing against pipes, but my mind wasn't there. It was on him. Behind me. His bare feet. The quiet huff of his breath. The towel around his waist. The way he hadn't even bothered to get wet in the shower.
This wasn't about any valve.
I swallowed hard and tried to keep my body still, but I could feel myself clenching. My thighs. My pussy. Everything was tight and hot and wanting.
His footsteps shuffled closer. My body tensed. He crouched as well, right behind me.
What happened to his back problem now? How can he crouch now?
Though, who am I to question him? I knew it was a bait and I willingly lured myself. There's no point complaining now. I need to pay the price.
My belly fluttered.
Really lucky to have someone like you," he said lightly, like it meant nothing. "You do all the little things no one else bothers with."
His voice was smooth. Innocent on the surface.
I stayed frozen. My heart thudded in my throat.
Then I felt it. His cock poking my asshole, right through my clothes.
My breath caught. My hands gripped the valve under the basin. I didn't move. Didn't say a word.
"You're shaking," he murmured. His voice was so calm. "Must be chilly down there. Or maybe it's just nerves."
He continued poking my asshole. Every push on my asshole made me gasp. Pushed and pulled. He kept repeating it till my legs started shaking.
I bit my lip hard.
"Valve stuck?" he asked casually. "You're working hard down there."
My face flushed. He knew I wasn't even trying anymore. My hands were just holding on to the valve.
Then I felt his hand. Right on my ass. Not squeezing, just placed. While he continued poking me with his dick and I was shamelessly getting poked. At every poke, he only pushed himself more deep, making me twitch, gasp.
He grabbed a full handful of my ass. He squeezed hard. Squeezed again. Then used both hands to slowly lift my skirt up, gathering the fabric bunch by bunch, until my ass was fully out. My panties were the only thing covering me now. A small, tight pair. The only cloth left between him and me. It was a full view, he probably noticed how wet I was.
I stayed quiet, the horniness was making my mind go crazy. I didn't care about anything anymore. My body wanted more. And that's all it mattered.
He grabbed my ass hard, both hands digging into the skin like a starving man finally getting his first bite. It felt desperate, greedy like he'd been craving this from the moment he first hugged me. He gave a little shake to my juicy ass—he played with it, kneading and jiggling my cheeks, spreading them just enough to make me squirm. His grip was rough, possessive, and each squeeze sent a shiver through me. I couldn't help it. I let out soft, breathy moans slipped out of my mouth as his hands played with my ass.
I noticed a sensation on my leg, like a cloth. I took a sneaky glance on my leg and saw the towel. He was completely naked behind me, digging his dick and the only thing left was my panty that was stopping him to enter me.
I tried swallowing, but couldn't swallow. My pussy felt his dick, rubbing up and down on my soaked panties and giving a tight press. With every rub, his dick was getting covered in my mess.
His cock slid lower. I gasped when I felt it brush right along my lips. My panties clung to me, soaked through. The fabric gave him no resistance. He could feel everything. And I could feel him.
Every vein. Every pulse. Every goddamn inch.
I wanted to twist the valve. Just to do something. To distract myself. But my hands were shaking. I twisted. It didn't move. Tried again. Nothing. It was stuck. Or maybe I didn't have any strength left.
He kept rubbing. Slow and steady. His cock dragged over my slit again and again, using the thin layer of my soaked panties to tease me.
Then his fingers slid over my ass. He found the side of my panties and pulled it aside. Just like that. A soft pull.
I gasped.
His fingers grazed my bare pussy. My lips. Just a brush, but I felt it all over.
I let out a moan. Loud enough for him to hear.
He chuckled lightly.
The air was hitting cold on my pussy and asshole. I was bent over, exposed. If my husband ever saw me like this, exposed in front of this disgusting old man—what would he think? I had no answer. And the worst part was, I knew the old man was now fully naked. His hand was holding his cock, and my pussy lips were visible, slightly opened, already wet.
This was the moment. The line.
I felt it—his cock touched my pussy lips. Not inside, just rubbing. Wet against wet. His size—thick and hot—slid across my opening slowly, then harder. I gasped. My hips trembled. He was rubbing himself on me, back and forth, and I was losing control. It felt insane, sinful—and unbelievably good.
I was dripping. He was big. My body wanted him. I needed to feel him inside.
Then something hit me. A thought, like a slap. Will you carry the weight of this guilt? He still loves you so much. After what happened last night, he's already hurting. And here you are, opening your legs in a stranger's bathroom. Is the sexual pleasure really more important than your husband??
Yes. My husband.
What was I doing?
The old man was still rubbing. Still teasing. Still close.
Then—he pressed forward, like he was ready to push in.
I flinched.
My hand shot back. I grabbed his cock and stopped him.
He looked confused, maybe even surprised. His thick cock throbbed in my hand. This thing was about to enter me. Would have made me go crazy. My body was soaked, my pussy still twitching. Even I was shocked that I had stopped him. I had been so close.
I stood up quickly, fixing my clothes. My heart was racing, my thighs wet. I was panting and aroused. He stepped closer. His hand grabbed my skirt, he pulled me hard, his mouth landed on my neck. He started sucking hard. His fingers slipped between my legs and inside my pussy.
I moaned.
He started fingering my pussy. "Look at this... you're soaked. Your body wants it even if you deny."
He kept fingering me harder, rough and relentless, like he'd been waiting forever to do this. His fingers moved fast and deep, curling inside me just right, making my knees shake. And his voice… God, his voice was filthier than his touch.
"You know what you are, don't you?" he muttered close to my ear, his breath hot. "You're no saint. This mask you wear, pretending to be innocent… how long can you keep it on?"
I moaned, louder than I should have, my body giving in even as my mind screamed confusion. His fingers didn't stop. The way he curled them inside, pressing deep, hitting just the right spot, it made my stomach twist with heat. Every nasty word he whispered made me throb harder.
And then it hit. My climax crashed over me like a wave, uncontrollable. My back arched, my hips bucked against his hand, and I couldn't hold back the loud, helpless sound that tore out of my throat. I was shaking, twitching, gasping for air like I'd been drowning.
While I was still coming down, still pulsing and trembling, he stepped in closer, and I felt it. His thick cock slapping my ass, heavy and hot. It wasn't just an accident. He was doing it on purpose. A teasing strike with his cock, claiming it, sending a message.
"You feel this?" he said, voice low and smug. "This… this belongs right here. You know it. I know it."
I didn't answer. I couldn't. My body was already betraying
"You'll be back," he said. "You'll be the one begging next time."
I fixed my clothes and left in a rush. My legs were shaking. My panties were drenched. And deep down, I didn't even know what scared me more—that I had almost crossed the line… or that I wanted to.