Terry Cloth Texter and his Wet Towel Hands

His ex husband was very good with his hands. I wasn’t surprised at how tall he stood in the shower when I would leave the bathroom door open and stare at him through the transparent shower curtain. I watched as he lathered his bald head with a bar of soap immediately after he turned the shower on. The hot water showet stream rushed his face and he began to scrub his grimy, greasy filthy white face clean. I gasped imagining the colored water slithering down into the bathtub drain, his filthy flow returning to the sewers with the rest of the mud and filth from his environment. He opened his mouth, gargled some clean shower water and then spit it out.

I watched him for a few more minutes, waiting for him to scream my name and ask for a towel to dry off his wet body before he applied his body grease. I glanced at his other telephone he placed near the sink. Would he text from the shower again or would he scream my name. Louder! Louder! I hear his voice. How it echoes in the night! Beautiful lovely screams of orgasmic shower pleasure. Over and over and over again, while I quietly watch him stroke off more from my extra monitors and activity alert software packages. I only oogle him, like a creep, a nasty dirty in house voyeur. How will he scrub next? What holes will he attempt to repair? He broke his old ma belle phone so many times. So much dirty streamage inside, like quicksand mud, he couldn’t dig himself out of the filth again without someone else’s assistance or guidance from the other women servisors on text calls. Standby for a live assistor who can help you get dug out safe without causing more damage.