She tried to lift onto me again.
My hands held her hips flat to the wet tile. The head of my cock rested against her pussy and went no further.
Heat bled off her into me. She was slick enough that the smallest shift dragged the swollen tip through her folds and made her breath hitch hard. Her eyes stayed locked on mine from below, flat on her back, while the drip from the shower head counted the seconds between us—one slow drop, then another.
I pushed in.
Slow. Not a thrust yet — a continuous forward press that opened her around me inch by inch.
Her pussy stretched to take the head, the soft outer lips parting and then sealing tight around the thicker stretch of the shaft. Hot. Tight. So wet the slide was almost easy until I sank deep enough that the easy ended. Resistance. Then give. The last inch cost her a sound she couldn't swallow.
