“The companion act” Part-2 Continues…..
By now it was already getting hot…too hot. I hurriedly finished off the section I had told myself I would do before putting my gardening tools away, heading back into the house for my morning shower. I hoped while doing so, Henry might return home and thus join me inside there. I was hard as a rock. As I climbed the stairs towards the bedroom, I heard the shower already running.
“Shit! That must be Tom,” I realized. She had beaten me to it, though I shouldn’t have been surprised by that. Henry had already told her she could use the shower in our room as opposed to having to go all the way down stairs and use the one in the downstairs area. Even so, I found irritation in having to do that, now sharing time…scheduling amongst the three of us, though as I said…most of the time,
Henry and I simply showered together even if we didn’t fool around. Not exactly something I could do with her sister, which meant simply waiting for my turn. With the door to the bathroom closed however, I saw no point in leaving the bedroom, content to sit on the edge of the bed, flipping through channels on our TV while waiting for her to come out.
I glanced over towards the bathroom door. It’s not like it was wide open or anything, it wasn’t. But it wasn’t fully closed either. A small crack, a very small crack alerted me to the fact it wasn’t fully shut, and which was also why I could hear the fall of the shower inside a bit more perhaps than I should have been. I sat, feeling impatient, irritated with having to wait on her, deciding to use the advantage of having the door open a crack as an opportunity to yell into her, and ask her if she couldn’t hurry things up. I approached the door, seeing movement beyond as I did.
Our shower was unique, custom made. Big enough to easily support four inside comfortably, though that had never been our intention of course. We just liked having the room to shower in, along with two separate shower heads on either side of the wall. In addition, you stepped down into it, two small steps with a safety rail. Something I liked as there was no need for a shower curtain, or sliding glass door to have to clean, not to mention easily used as a jet tub as well whenever we decided to use it for that purpose.
At the moment however, even with the door barely cracked the way it was, I could clearly see my sister-in law as she stood with her head back beneath the shower, rinsing her hair. Her full breasts jutting outwards beneath the spray, a thin, very thin strip of pubic hair between her legs, pointing upwards towards her naval almost like a beacon, inviting you to look at it. Which I found myself doing. I swallowed my words, fingertips on the door, a slight, very slight push, opening it a fraction more, if that. But just enough to even more fully see her as I stood there spying on her.
Next to the built-in rack holding an array of body soaps, shampoos, conditioners and the like, we had also installed a hand-held spray for those harder to reach places.
I now watched as she reached over, turning it on, and then herself by the looks of it. She wasn’t simply rinsing off, or washing anything else either for that matter. Not when I saw her hand travel up, cupping one of her breasts, toying with it. Her mouth formed a small “0” as she moaned softly, teasing her extended nipple, holding the shower massage against herself with an obvious pulsating beat.
“Fuck!” I moaned silently to myself once again. Because here I was again…looking at my sister-in-law, masturbating. Feeling the erection which hadn’t completely dwindled away, suddenly racing back to full and complete hardness again within seconds. The sight of her standing there, so vulnerably revealed. Closer this time in my observance in fact, details of which I now saw even more sharply, the pucker of her nipples,
the crinkle of that delicate delightful skin. I allowed my eyes to caress her looking downwards, the water itself highlighting the normally almost invisible hair on her tummy just below her navel where she didn’t shave. Wet however, it now led like a path down towards her cunt, her lips puffy, protruding, swollen as she held and pressed the head of the pulsating shower massage against herself.
Occasionally moving it away, teasing instead with a finger or two for a moment. Allowing me when she did that, a brief clearer glimpse at her lips, her opening, which she then spread, teasing and torturing her amazingly large looking clit. This too, far bigger than her sister’s, so easily seen over the few feet separating the two of us as I stood behind the door. I watched as she changed hands, now playing with her neglected breast, placing one foot slightly above the other on the ledge running around the tub on one side.
Effectively spreading herself even more…comfortably, the shower massage again directed at her cunt, specifically against her clit as she groaned audibly, shaking briefly, now pulling fiercely on her nipple with her fingers as she pulled on it, even twisting it.
“Jesus!” I said, though glad the shower was loud enough to drown out my words, spoken softly as they had been, though I again was reminded in doing that just how precarious my situation was at the moment. Though relatively sure she wouldn’t know I was standing there peeking in on her, a focused glance in that direction might reveal any distortions behind the door from the light coming behind me. Something I was very well aware of, and already at the verge of stepping back, leaving the bedroom entirely.
Which is when she came.
She had let go of the hand-held spray, leaving it to bang wildly against the wall as she reached down…slapping, no…spanking her pussy as it were. She was slapping it hard with one hand, the other pulling…fingers pinching the flesh, her lips surrounding her clit, bunching it up, almost as though yanking upwards on a man’s foreskin. No other way to describe it, explain it, as she pinched, holding it there,
in a way, re-sheathing her clitoris. And though in doing so, she slapped, hit, and then ground her free hand against herself furiously, all the while crying out her pleasures, wave after wave of them…or so it seemed anyway. One long, never-ending string of orgasms that shook her from head to toe. She was still climaxing in fact, when I spun away from the door, the sound, subconsciously perhaps of footsteps just then nearing alerting me to the fact…Henry had come home.
She walked in, saw me thankfully standing looking towards her, and not through the door itself, though I was still too close to it for my own good. “Just came in to use the shower myself,” I said, trying to once again sound irritated. “Was just about to ask her to hurry up there when you walked in.”
Henry looked down at my crotch. “Ah huh,” she smiled accusingly. “I bet you were asking her to hurry up…and cum,” she giggled suggestively. “I’m willing to bet she’s using the hand held shower massager you put in for me…isn’t she?”
“I don’t know…I…I ah…wasn’t looking for that, at that…at her,” I stammered.
“Ah huh,” Henry said again, stripping off her own clothes now.
“No really…I wasn’t, I just came in to shower, realized she was already in there, thought I’d peek through the door, ask her to hurry up there.”
“Peek through is right,” Tom said suddenly coming into the room, thankfully covered up with a towel around her torso. “Though I saw something a moment ago, blocking the light behind the door…thought it might be Samuel, just wasn’t sure if he was really brazen enough to sit there and spy on me.”
“Spy? Spy? Who said I was spying?” I stammered defending myself, trying to sound shocked, angry even at the suggestion.
“Give it up samuel…you’re standing there with a hard on,” my wife said, and then burst out laughing, just as her sister did, now looking down and over towards me.
“Oh my…you really do. And…you really were spying on me, weren’t you?” She accused me without really sounding too upset about it.