Bathing together

I live with this guy. We made the rule—no touching, no sex. Simple. Then I walked in while he was running the bath. Steam curled over the tiles. He stood naked, broad-shouldered, cock already half hard from the warm water. He didn’t tell me to leave. I didn’t ask. I peeled off my shirt, let my tits bounce free, and stepped in behind him. The tub was small; we had to press close. My nipples brushed his back. He turned, water sloshing around our hips, and I sank to my knees right there in the suds. I took his cock in my mouth, slow and deep, blonde hair plastered to my wet cheeks. I swallowed him until my lips met the base and his balls rested warm against my chin. He groaned, fingers tightening in my hair. My hand worked the shaft while my tongue circled the head, tasting soap and skin and the first salt of precum. The brunette watched from the doorway, big tits pressed together, but she didn’t come closer—only watched as I sucked him under the water line, bubbles popping around my face every time I came up for air.