Jennifer was tired.
Fatigue hung from her face like linen on clothesline during a warm summer-day.
A double-shift at the café had kept her—not just on her feet—but flying around for the better part of 16 hours.
She took great care slipping the key into the door of her 2-bedroom apartment—her housemate, Tom, was almost assuredly asleep at this late hour—and crept directly to the bathroom.
Silently she disrobed, put her hair up and entered the glass stall.
Closing her eyes, she let go of the day and gave herself to the steady rush of steamy water.
Her exhaustion was so great, so comprehensive, her ears barely detected the antique whine of the bathroom door.
Expectation began to stir in her thighs; this was a dance she and Tom had only done once before – a drunken mistake – but now it was all she wanted.
The glass opened and closed behind her, but she dared not turn. To do so would suggest something more than a need for sexual heroin and she had neither the energy nor the desire for that.
Tom had a powerful grip—she remembered from their only other encounter—and it seized her hips with such erotic force she needed to throw her manicured hands on the wall to stay balanced.
Arching her spine, she eased backward onto the fullness of the cock, letting it gradually penetrate millimeter by millimeter, until fully enveloped by her velvet pussy.
The rhythm would lead to the pleasure of release and with it, the incredible night’s sleep she so completely deserved.