Shared bathroom at the Youth Hostel

[testor]

I wake up in my narrow hostel bunk, the room still dim and quiet with only the faint sounds of a couple of other travelers breathing heavily in their sleep. It's just after 6am, and the early morning chill clings to my skin as I slip out of bed in my thin tank top and soft sleep shorts. I'm in my late twenties, fit from all the backpacking, with long wavy hair that falls messily over my shoulders, and I know I turn heads—but right now, all I can focus on is the sudden, sharp cramp twisting deep in my lower belly.

Oh god, it's been building since yesterday. I skipped my usual morning routine because the bathroom here is so exposed, and I held it all day through the city sightseeing. Now my intestines are protesting loudly. The pressure is intense—a heavy, bloated fullness pushing downward, making my asshole clench involuntarily as a wave of urgency hits me. I can feel the thick, firm log inside me, packed solid from the delay, shifting and demanding release. Another cramp ripples through me, stronger this time, and I press a hand subtly against my flat stomach, feeling the slight distension. My bowels are churning, gurgling audibly in the quiet room, and I know I can't wait much longer. I need to shit. Badly. The kind of desperate, aching need where my sphincter is already twitching, fighting to keep everything in.

I grab my small toiletry bag and a towel, padding down the hallway toward the unisex bathroom, my heart beating faster. The place better be empty this early. With the floating separators on the toilet cubicles—those stupid half-walls that don't even reach the floor or ceiling properly—anyone at the washbasins can see the feet of those sitting behind the closed doors. And the acoustics... everything echoes like a damn cave. Every grunt, every splash, every embarrassing release is amplified. My cheeks flush hot just thinking about it. I'm a grown woman, attractive and independent, but this situation makes me feel very uncomfortable. Part of me is mortified at the idea of squatting there, shorts around my ankles, pushing out what feels like a massive, smelly load while the sound carries everywhere. But the cramps are getting worse, a deep, insistent ache that makes my legs feel weak and my hole throb with the effort of holding back.

I push open the bathroom door and freeze, my heart slamming against my ribs as the bright overhead lights hit me. A tall, athletic-looking guy in his early thirties maybe, standing at the row of washbasins with shaving cream on one side of his jaw, razor in hand. He's shirtless, wearing just a towel around his waist, his back and shoulders flexing slightly as he leans toward the mirror. Of course, someone else is up this early. Of course, it's a guy. Mortification floods through me like ice water, my cheeks burning crimson.

Another brutal cramp twists deep in my guts at the worst possible moment, making me shift my weight and clench hard. The heavy, packed mass in my bowels feels even more urgent now, pressing insistently against my tight sphincter. I can feel it—thick, hard, and overdue, the kind that’s going to stretch me wide and come out in long, crackling logs with loud, echoing plops once I finally let go. My stomach gurgles loudly in the quiet space, the sound bouncing off the tiles. I’m sure he heard it. God, the pressure is unbearable; my asshole is fluttering, fighting to hold back what feels like days of buildup. A tiny, hot fart escapes despite my efforts, silent but definitely not odorless, and I pray the slight morning air currents don’t carry it toward him.

I stand there awkwardly, clutching my toiletry bag, thighs pressed together under my thin sleep shorts. From where he’s standing at the basin, the floating separators on the toilet cubicles mean he’ll have a clear view, the doors providing just the bare minimum of privacy. He’ll see my legs and feet under the gap as I sit on the pot. And every sound will echo: the grunts, the crackling, the heavy splashes of my solid shit hitting the water. I’m supposed to be this confident, attractive traveler, but right now I just feel desperately full and embarrassed. My lower intestines are cramping again, harder, sending sharp waves of need through my pelvis. I need to empty my bowels so badly it hurts—my rectum is swollen and aching, the massive load demanding release now.

He glances over in the mirror, gives a polite half-nod with a little smile, like it’s no big deal we’re sharing the space. But to me it’s everything. I can’t just turn around and run back to the dorm with this urgent pressure building.

I swallow hard, cheeks still flaming, and force myself to move. Without looking at him, I walk past the basins with quick, tense steps. I head to the open lockers, drop my things and turn to the toilets. My sleep shorts ride up slightly against my thighs as I clench everything tightly, trying to keep the heavy, insistent mass inside me. Another deep cramp hits midway past him—sharp and rolling through my lower intestines like a wave—and I have to bite my lip to stop from making a sound. The thick, firm shit feels like it's right at my back door now, bulging against my puckered hole, demanding to crown. I can feel the slight dampness in my panties from the effort of holding it all in.

I reach the farthest cubicle on the right, the one with the most distance from the basins, and slip inside, pulling the flimsy door shut behind me as quickly as I can. It latches but doesn't feel private—the floating separators mean I am partially visible. The echo in here is even worse than I remembered; every little movement seems amplified. I can hear the soft scrape of his razor against his skin at the sink, and I'm mortified knowing he can probably hear me breathing heavier from the strain.

I hook my thumbs into my shorts and panties, yanking them down to my ankles in one hurried motion, and lower myself onto the cool toilet seat. My ass cheeks spread against the porcelain, and the position immediately makes the pressure unbearable. My swollen, full rectum throbs, the massive, hard log inside me pushing hard against my tight sphincter. It feels so thick and long after holding it for over a day—knobby and solid, with that heavy, packed feeling that promises a loud, satisfying (and embarrassing) release. A small, hot fart slips out noisily, echoing sharply off the tiles—pfffffrrrt—followed by the unmistakable earthy smell starting to fill the small space. I clench my fists on my thighs, face burning with shame, praying he doesn't react. My bowels are gurgling loudly now, the cramps coming faster, my hole starting to relax despite myself.

I let my anus widen. Gently at first, clenching my abs in a slow, deliberate way, trying to ease out just a little at a time without any noise. My tight asshole stretches reluctantly around the thick, rock-hard head of the first log. It’s so wide and firm after a full day of holding it—knobby, dehydrated, and unrelenting. For a second it feels like it might cooperate… but then the pressure finds its way.

My sphincter gives way with a loud, wet crackling sound that echoes through the entire bathroom like a gunshot: **FRRRRT—CRACKLE—SPLUUUURT**. The massive turd surges out uncontrollably, thick and long, thumping heavily into the water below with a deep, resonant **KERPLUNK**. I can’t stop it. Another wave hits immediately, and I give up all pretense of control. My bowels take over completely.

What follows is the noisiest, most humiliating shit of my life. Log after thick, solid log pushes out in rapid succession, each one crackling and snapping loudly as it stretches my hole wide—**CRRRACK—POP—THUD**. The sounds are obscene, echoing off every tile surface: wet farts ripping out between them (**PPPPFFFFFRRRRTTT**), heavy splashes as each fat piece hits the water, and the constant gurgling of my overfull intestines emptying themselves. It doesn’t stop. One long, knobby turd after another, some breaking off with sharp cracks, others coiling and plopping heavily. The smell is strong—earthy, pungent, unmistakable—and it fills the cubicle quickly, probably drifting outward.

My face is burning scarlet, my hands gripping my thighs tightly as I lean forward slightly, panting softly. I’m visibly straining, my shoulders tense and my expression one of pure relief mixed with utter embarrassment. Every sound is broadcasting exactly what’s happening to the guy at the sink. The torrent keeps going—wave after wave of my built-up shit exploding out in the loudest, most uncontrollable poo I’ve ever had. My asshole feels raw and stretched from the girth, my belly softening as the heavy load finally empties.

I’m dying inside, completely exposed in this cubicle. I sit there, helplessly emptying my bowels in the loudest, most shameless way possible, when something strange and unexpected starts happening deep inside me. Amid the burning embarrassment a hot, forbidden thrill begins to pulse between my legs. My stretched asshole twitches around the massive turds, sending sparks of intense sensation through my core. The vulnerability of it all, the exposure with the floating separators, the knowledge that this attractive guy at the sink is hearing every filthy sound… it’s mortifying, but it’s also making me strangely, shamefully aroused.

My pussy starts to throb and swell, growing wetter with each echoing plop and wet fart. I can feel my clit pulsing, slick arousal leaking out and mixing with the sweat on my inner thighs. My nipples harden against the thin fabric of my tank top, visibly poking through as another heavy wave of shit pushes out—**PPPPFFFRRRRT—THUD**—the relief in my bowels blending with this confusing rush of excitement. The sounds are so loud and obscene, my heavy load continuing to tumble into the bowl without mercy, but instead of wanting to disappear, part of me is hyper-aware of how exposed my straining body is. The idea that he is listening, maybe even glancing toward the cubicle, sends another shameful shiver of heat straight to my core.

I’m panting quietly now, one hand unconsciously drifting down to press lightly against my lower belly as the last thick pieces finally start to taper off. My intestines feel so much lighter, but my pussy is aching, slick and needy from the intense mix of humiliation and raw physical release. This has never happened to me before in a situation like this… but god, I’m turned on.

I sit there for a long moment after the final thick pieces finally drop with a couple of last wet plops, my bowels finally empty and my stomach noticeably flatter. The bathroom is thick with the heavy, pungent smell of my massive shit, and the echoes of all those loud cracks, farts, and splashes still seem to hang in the air. My face is still burning with embarrassment, but my pussy is throbbing even harder now—slick, swollen, and undeniably wet from the strange arousal that hit me during the whole humiliating ordeal.

I reach for the toilet paper, tearing off long strips and wiping carefully between my spread cheeks. The paper comes away messy, streaked with the remnants of my solid load, and I have to wipe multiple times—front to back, pressing firmly around my sensitive, slightly sore asshole that still twitches from the stretching. Each wipe makes my clit ache with need, and I bite my lip to stay quiet, hyper-aware that he’s probably still right there at the basin. I drop the used paper into the bowl, flush once… then again when it doesn’t all go down immediately. The loud whooshing sound feels like another announcement of what just happened.

Finally, I stand up on shaky legs, pulling my damp panties and sleep shorts back up over my ass and thighs. I can feel how soaked my pussy is, the fabric clinging slightly as I adjust everything. I smooth my tank top down over my hard nipples, take a deep breath, and unlock the cubicle door.
I step out, avoiding eye contact but still catching a glimpse of him in the mirror—he’s still shaving, though he definitely paused for a second. The air feels thick as I walk past the basins again toward the sinks on the other side to wash my hands. My legs feel weak, my heart racing, and that confusing heat between my thighs hasn’t faded at all.

I hesitate for just a second, my pulse still racing and my pussy noticeably slick and throbbing under my thin sleep shorts. The mix of post-poo relief and this strange, lingering arousal makes my cheeks stay flushed. Instead of bolting back to my bunk like every embarrassed instinct screams at me to do, I walk straight over to the row of basins… and choose the one right next to him.

I set my toiletry bag down on the counter with a soft clink, turn on the faucet, and start washing my hands. The warm water feels good, but it does nothing to cool the heat between my legs. I can smell the faint remnants of my own mess still clinging faintly to the air, and I’m sure he can too. Glancing sideways in the mirror, I finally acknowledge him properly. He’s taller up close, with a strong jawline and a calm, slightly amused expression as he rinses his razor. I clear my throat softly, my voice a little huskier than usual. “Hey… sorry about that,” I say with a small, embarrassed laugh, meeting his eyes in the mirror. “I thought I’d have the place to myself this early.”

I bite my lip, feeling another pulse of shameful arousal as I remember how exposed and noisy I was. My nipples are still visibly hard against my tank top, and I don’t bother trying to hide it completely. I listen to his reply, my hands still under the running water as I process his words. He gives a low, easy chuckle and says something like, “Hey, no need to apologize. I felt just as awkward a few minutes earlier myself. Tried to be quiet but… yeah, these bathrooms don’t exactly help with that.”

His casual tone catches me off guard in the best way. As he speaks, it clicks in my head—the faint, musky, earthy scent I noticed when I first walked into the bathroom. It was his. He had clearly taken a shit here shortly before I arrived. The realization makes my stomach flutter. Strangely, it’s not off-putting at all. It’s actually… not too bad. Kind of intimate and real in a way that sends another warm pulse straight to my still-throbbing pussy.

I turn off the tap and prepare my toothbrush, while glancing at him directly this time. A small, genuine smile tugs at my lips despite the lingering flush on my cheeks. "Oh well, If you gotta go you gotta go” I reply, my voice softer, a hint of playful embarrassment in it.

Our eyes meet properly for the first time. The moment stretches out, thick and charged. His gaze is steady, dark, and unexpectedly intense, holding mine without looking away. Seconds feel like minutes. My breath catches in my throat. I can feel the heat rising in my face again, but this time it’s not just embarrassment. That lingering, shameful arousal from my loud, messy shit earlier flares hotter between my legs. My pussy clenches involuntarily, still slick and sensitive, as I stand there next to him in my thin tank top and sleep shorts. My hard nipples are impossible to miss now, poking obviously against the fabric.

In my mind, everything from the last few minutes floods back in vivid detail: the desperate cramps, the way my tight asshole stretched wide around those thick, heavy logs, the loud crackling and splashing that filled the bathroom, the relief of finally emptying my full bowels… and the confusing rush of wetness it caused. Now, knowing he was in here doing the same thing just before me—leaving that faint, musky scent that I actually don’t mind at all—makes the eye contact feel strangely intimate. Dirty. Exciting.

I don’t look away. Neither does he. The air between us feels heavy, the bathroom quiet except for the distant drip of a tap. My heart is hammering, my thighs pressing together subtly as another warm trickle of arousal dampens my panties.

I don’t know who moves first, but our heads tilt closer, drawn together like magnets in the charged silence. Suddenly we’re kissing—wildly, hungrily, with zero hesitation. His lips crash against mine, warm and firm, and I moan softly into his mouth as our tongues find each other instantly, sliding and tangling in a hot, wet dance. The kiss is urgent and messy, full of pent-up tension. I taste a hint of mint from his toothpaste, and he probably tastes the lingering nervousness on me. My hands come up to grip his bare shoulders, feeling the heat of his skin as his arms wrap around my waist, pulling me closer against him.

My body responds immediately. The arousal that started while I was loudly emptying my bowels in the cubicle surges back full force. My pussy is soaked, throbbing hard between my thighs, and I can feel my nipples rubbing against his chest through my thin tank top. The memory of my massive, noisy poo—the way my asshole stretched and the heavy logs plopped out so shamelessly—only makes me kiss him deeper, more desperately. Knowing he had done the same thing minutes earlier, that we’re both standing here after relieving ourselves in this exposed bathroom, makes everything feel filthy and strangely erotic.

I press my body into his, one leg sliding slightly between his as our tongues swirl and explore, breathing fast and heavy. My hands roam over his back, nails lightly grazing his skin. I pull back from the wild kiss just enough to catch my breath, our lips still brushing, my forehead resting against his. My heart is pounding, my pussy aching and dripping wet, the taste of him still on my tongue. The bathroom feels ten degrees hotter.

Suddenly, in a husky, breathless voice, I whisper against his mouth: “I need a shower…” I pause for half a second, then look him straight in the eyes, a mischievous, aroused little smile playing on my swollen lips. “…Are you coming?”

My fingers trail lightly down his bare chest as I say it, my body still pressed close to his. The invitation hangs in the air, thick with everything that just happened — my loud, messy shit, his earlier one, the intense eye contact, and this sudden, hungry chemistry. I can feel how hard he is against me, and my own arousal is soaking through my panties, my nipples tight and sensitive.

I step back slightly from him, my eyes never leaving his, and slowly start to undress right there in front of the basins.

First, I hook my fingers under the hem of my thin tank top and peel it up and over my head, letting my full, perky breasts spill free. My nipples are rock hard, flushed pink and begging for attention. I toss the top onto the counter. Then I slide my thumbs into the waistband of my sleep shorts and panties together, bending forward a little as I push them down my smooth legs, stepping out of them one foot at a time.

Now I stand completely bare naked in front of him. My body is radiant in the bathroom light — toned from traveling, with smooth, soft skin, a flat stomach that still feels lighter after emptying my heavy bowels, gently curved hips, and long, shapely legs. My pussy is visibly aroused, the smooth lips swollen and glistening with slick wetness that trails down my inner thigh. My long wavy hair cascades over one shoulder as I straighten up, letting him take in every inch of me.

I feel exposed, vulnerable, and incredibly turned on — especially knowing what we both just did in those cubicles. My cheeks are flushed, but I don’t cover myself. Instead, I tilt my head toward the showers on the other side of the bathroom. I reach out and take his hand gently. I smile playfully at him, my naked body still glowing with arousal, and reach forward. My fingers hook into the towel wrapped around his waist. With a slow tug, I pull it open. The towel falls to the floor at his feet, revealing his rock-hard dick springing up thick and heavy, the head already glistening.

A little laugh escapes me as I glance down at it, then back up into his eyes. “Wow… looks like someone else is up early,” I tease with a cheeky grin. “Careful, or we might need a cold shower instead of a hot one.”

Still smiling, I turn away from him slowly, giving him a full view of my bare ass and the curve of my back as I walk toward the shower cabin with deliberate, swaying steps. My hips sway gently, my wet pussy lips peeking between my thighs with every movement. I step into the shower, turn on the water, and let the warm spray start cascading over my naked body, soaking my hair and running down my breasts and between my legs.

I look back over my shoulder at him, water already streaming down my radiant skin. He walks straight toward me, his rock-hard cock bobbing with each step. Without a word, he kneels down on the wet tiles right in front of me. He gently spreads my thighs wider, leans in, and buries his face between my legs. His tongue immediately finds my smooth, shaved pussy. The first long, slow lick from my dripping entrance up to my swollen clit makes my knees buckle slightly. I moan loudly, the sound echoing through the bathroom just like my earlier noisy poo did, as he starts eating me out with hungry, skilled strokes.

His tongue swirls around my clit, sucking it gently between his lips before diving lower to lap at my wet folds, tasting how soaked I am. The warm water mixes with my juices running down his chin. It feels incredible — my pussy throbs and clenches under his mouth, the intense arousal from the whole humiliating-yet-erotic morning making me extra sensitive. I lean back against the shower wall, one hand gripping his wet hair, my hips rocking forward to grind against his tongue. “Fuck… yes,” I gasp, my voice breathy and needy. My perky breasts are heaving, nipples rock hard under the streaming water, as he devours my shaved pussy with long, deep licks and flicks that send waves of pleasure through me.

I’m still moaning from his tongue on my pussy when he suddenly stands up, turns me around firmly by the hips, and bends me slightly forward under the running shower water. He drops back down to his knees behind me and uses both strong hands to spread my firm, round buttcheeks wide apart. The warm water streams down my back and directly over my exposed asshole. I gasp sharply, my face flushing hot again as I feel completely opened up to him.

My tight, pink little hole is still slightly sensitive and puffy from the massive, thick logs I pushed out earlier — that long, loud, stretching shit I took just minutes ago. Even though I wiped thoroughly, the memory of how wide it stretched and how filthy it sounded makes this moment feel incredibly dirty and intimate. He holds my cheeks spread, staring right at my most private spot, and I can feel the cool air contrasted with the hot water trickling over it. My shaved pussy is dripping down my thighs, and my asshole twitches visibly under his gaze, clenching and relaxing from the overwhelming mix of lingering embarrassment and raw arousal. I’m bent over, hands braced against the shower wall, ass pushed out toward him, completely exposed.

I let out a surprised, shaky moan as he presses his face even deeper between my spread cheeks. He buries his nose directly against my tight, still-sensitive anus, pressing firmly into the soft, puckered skin, and breathes in deeply — long, slow, deliberate inhales, like he’s savoring the most intimate scent of me. The warm water is still running over us, but it doesn’t mask everything. After the massive, heavy shit I took earlier — those thick, crackling logs and the loud farts — there’s still a faint, earthy, musky remnant clinging to my hole. The realization that he’s actively smelling it, breathing in the evidence of what I just did so noisily in the cubicle, sends a filthy thrill straight through me. My pussy clenches hard, dripping fresh wetness down my thighs.

“Oh my god…” I whimper, my voice echoing off the tiles. “You’re really… sniffing me right there? After I just destroyed that toilet?”
I stay bent over under the warm shower spray, my hands braced on the wet tiles, ass pushed out as he keeps his face buried between my spread cheeks. He takes another long, deep breath right against my anus, then pulls back slightly, his voice muffled and rough with lust. “Your ass is absolutely clean,” he reassures me, pressing a soft kiss right on my puckered hole. “I can only smell your natural muskiness… that warm, intimate girl scent. It’s fucking addictive. No leftover shit smell at all — just pure, sexy you after that big release.”

His words send a huge wave of relief mixed with even stronger arousal through me. I moan softly, my tight little asshole twitching against his lips and nose as he dives back in, sniffing deeply again and then licking slow circles around the sensitive rim. “God… that makes me so wet,” I whisper breathlessly, glancing back over my shoulder at him. “I was so embarrassed earlier when I was grunting and pushing all that thick shit out… loud as hell. Hearing you say it’s just my natural musk now is turning me on even more. Keep smelling me like that… please.”

He groans in approval, burying his nose deeper, inhaling my clean but musky scent with obvious pleasure while his tongue teases my hole.
“You have no idea how good you smell back here,” he murmurs between deep breaths and licks. “So feminine and intimate. I could stay like this for hours.” My pussy is dripping steadily now, my thighs trembling from the intense, taboo pleasure of having my freshly emptied ass worshipped so shamelessly.

I’m still panting, my ass pushed out and my hole tingling from his tongue and deep sniffing, when he suddenly stands up behind me. He grips my hips firmly, lines up his thick, rock-hard cock with my dripping wet pussy, and thrusts into me in one powerful stroke. I cry out loudly as he buries himself balls-deep inside me, stretching my tight walls perfectly. Then he starts fucking me — hard, deep, and relentless, like I’ve never been fucked before.

Each powerful thrust slams into me from behind, his hips slapping loudly against my ass cheeks, the sound echoing through the shower along with my moans. The angle is perfect; his cock hits that sensitive spot inside me over and over, making my legs shake. The warm water cascades over our joined bodies as he pounds me mercilessly, one hand reaching around to rub my swollen clit while the other keeps a firm grip on my hip.

“Fuck… yes!” I gasp, pushing back to meet his thrusts. “You’re so deep… harder!” He fucks me like an animal — fast, brutal, primal strokes that make my perky breasts bounce and my whole body jolt forward with every impact. My freshly emptied ass jiggles with each slam, still sensitive from the earlier massive shit and his tongue. The contrast of the filthy morning we’ve had and this raw, intense sex pushes me closer and closer to the edge. His cock feels impossibly hard and thick inside me, stretching me perfectly as he rails me without mercy.

He suddenly pulls out of my dripping pussy, spins me around, and pins me hard against the shower wall with my back to the cold tiles. In one smooth, powerful motion he lifts my legs off the ground, wrapping them around his waist as he holds me up effortlessly. His strong hands grip my ass, spreading my cheeks slightly as he lines up and thrusts his thick cock back inside me in one deep, forceful stroke.

He fucks me even harder than before — deep, punishing strokes that slam me against the wall with every thrust. The angle is brutal and perfect, his cock driving straight into my G-spot over and over again while the base grinds against my swollen clit. I cum almost immediately.

A rolling, intense orgasm crashes through me that doesn’t stop. My pussy clenches and spasms wildly around his pounding cock as wave after wave of pleasure rips through my body. I cry out loudly, my voice echoing through the bathroom, my nails digging into his shoulders. My legs tremble uncontrollably around him, my toes curling as the orgasm keeps rolling, building and crashing again and again, soaking his cock and balls with my juices.

“Oh fuck— I’m cumming… I can’t stop—!” I moan desperately, my head thrown back against the wall, eyes rolling back as he keeps railing me without mercy. He keeps fucking me through it all, his hips slamming into me, until finally he buries himself as deep as possible and climaxes hard inside me. I feel his cock throbbing and pulsing, flooding my spasming pussy with hot, thick cum as my own rolling orgasm finally starts to ease, leaving me shaking and breathless in his arms.

I stay pinned against the shower wall, my legs still wrapped tightly around his waist, his cock buried deep inside me as we both come down from the intense climax. We don’t move. We stay exactly like this — locked together, breathing heavily against each other’s skin while the hot water continues to cascade over our joined bodies. His cum is slowly leaking out around his cock, mixing with my own juices and running down my thighs and ass in warm rivulets. My pussy is still gently pulsing and fluttering around his softening but still thick length, milking the last drops from him. My arms are wrapped around his neck, my forehead resting against his as the steam fills the shower cabin.

My body feels completely spent and satisfied in the best way — my bowels wonderfully empty after that massive morning shit, my pussy thoroughly fucked and filled, and my skin tingling everywhere the water touches. The mix of the earlier humiliation, the filthy intimacy, and this raw passion leaves me feeling strangely close to him.

I kiss him softly slowly, our tongues gently playing as the water pours over us. I whisper breathlessly against his lips: “Fuck… that was incredible. I’ve never come that hard or that long in my life.” He’s still holding me up effortlessly, his hands gripping my ass, our bodies pressed flush together under the steady stream.

He kisses me deeply one last time, slow and possessive, his tongue sliding against mine as the water still rains down on us. Then, without a word, he gently lowers my legs until my feet touch the wet floor. I steady myself against the wall, my thighs shaky and weak, a thick trickle of his cum leaking out of my well-fucked pussy and running down my inner leg. He gives me one last heated look, a small satisfied smirk on his face, and steps out of the shower cabin, grabbing his towel on the way. I hear him drying off quickly and then the sound of the bathroom door opening and closing as he leaves, giving me the space I wanted earlier.

I stay under the hot spray for a while longer, letting the water soothe my body. My legs are still trembling slightly, my pussy feels pleasantly sore and full of his cum, and my asshole is still a little sensitive from the earlier massive shit and his tongue. I slowly wash myself — soaping up my breasts, running my hands between my legs to clean the mix of our juices, and carefully washing my ass crack. The relief in my now-empty bowels feels amazing, and the memory of everything that just happened keeps a warm, satisfied glow in my belly.

The bathroom is quiet again except for the sound of the running water.