Karina

You heard her voice through the half-open bathroom door. “Could you… bring me a towel, please? There aren’t any in here.” You grabbed one from the hallway closet, already annoyed. Another reminder that she was living in your house now. You pushed the door open just wide enough to slide the towel through. That was when you saw it. The mirror directly across from the shower reflected everything. Karina stood with her back half-turned, one hand braced on the wall, waiting. Water still ran down her pale skin in thin trails. Her ass was slightly pushed out, soft and round. Her breasts rose and fell with every quiet breath she took, nipples tight from the cool air. She had no idea the angle of the mirror was giving you the entire picture. You froze for a second longer than you should have, towel still in your hand. Then you finally pushed it through the gap. Her fingers brushed yours as she took it. “Thank you,” she said softly, still completely unaware. You closed the door and walked away, but the image stayed burned behind your eyes — her wet body, the way she stood, the quiet vulnerability of it. You haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since.

A few days later you heard the shower running again.

You pushed the door open quietly and stepped inside. Karina was rinsing her hair under the spray, eyes closed, completely exposed. The moment the cool air hit her she turned, startled, arms instinctively crossing over her chest.

“What are you—?”

You didn’t answer. You closed the distance, took her wrist, and pulled her against you. Your hands slid over her wet skin before she could fully react, gripping her hips and pressing her back against the tiled wall while the water still ran over both of you.

You heard her voice through the half-open bathroom door. “Could you… bring me a towel, please? There aren’t any in here.” You grabbed one from the hallway closet, already annoyed. Another reminder that she was living in your house now. You pushed the door open just wide enough to slide the towel through. That was when you saw it. The mirror directly across from the shower reflected everything. Karina stood with her back half-turned, one hand braced on the wall, waiting. Water still ran down her pale skin in thin trails. Her ass was slightly pushed out, soft and round. Her breasts rose and fell with every quiet breath she took, nipples tight from the cool air. She had no idea the angle of the mirror was giving you the entire picture. You froze for a second longer than you should have, towel still in your hand. Then you finally pushed it through the gap. Her fingers brushed yours as she took it. “Thank you,” she said softly, still completely unaware. You closed the door and walked away, but the image stayed burned behind your eyes — her wet body, the way she stood, the quiet vulnerability of it. You haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since.

That night you couldn’t stop thinking about what you’d seen.

The next day, while she was out, you quietly installed a small hidden camera in the bathroom, angled perfectly toward the shower.

Every night after that you locked your door, opened the footage, and watched her. Water running down her pale skin, breasts shifting as she moved, the soft curve of her ass when she bent. You stroked yourself slowly, staring at your own stepmother, the image burned deeper each time.

After days of only watching, it wasn’t enough.

You wanted to feel her.

The next time the shower started running, you walked straight in. Karina spun around, eyes wide, arms crossing over her chest.

“What are you doing—?!”

You didn’t answer. You closed the distance, grabbed her wet hips, and forced her against the cold tiles while the water still poured over both of you. She froze in shock and disgust, body tense.

You heard her voice through the half-open bathroom door. “Could you… bring me a towel, please? There aren’t any in here.” You grabbed one from the hallway closet, already annoyed. Another reminder that she was living in your house now. You pushed the door open just wide enough to slide the towel through. That was when you saw it. The mirror directly across from the shower reflected everything. Karina stood with her back half-turned, one hand braced on the wall, waiting. Water still ran down her pale skin in thin trails. Her ass was slightly pushed out, soft and round. Her breasts rose and fell with every quiet breath she took, nipples tight from the cool air. She had no idea the angle of the mirror was giving you the entire picture. You froze for a second longer than you should have, towel still in your hand. Then you finally pushed it through the gap. Her fingers brushed yours as she took it. “Thank you,” she said softly, still completely unaware. You closed the door and walked away, but the image stayed burned behind your eyes — her wet body, the way she stood, the quiet vulnerability of it. You haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since.

That night you couldn’t stop thinking about what you’d seen.

The next day, while she was out, you quietly installed a small hidden camera in the bathroom, angled perfectly toward the shower and mirror.

Every night after that you locked your door, opened the footage, and watched her. The way the water ran down her pale skin, the way her breasts moved when she washed herself, the soft curve of her ass when she bent slightly. You stroked yourself slowly, staring at your own stepmother, the image burned deeper each time.

A week later you created an anonymous number.

You clipped a short video of her under the shower and sent it.

No message. Just the footage.

Then you waited.

You heard her voice through the half-open bathroom door. “Could you… bring me a towel, please? There aren’t any in here.” You grabbed one from the hallway closet, already annoyed. Another reminder that she was living in your house now. You pushed the door open just wide enough to slide the towel through. That was when you saw it. The mirror directly across from the shower reflected everything. Karina stood with her back half-turned, one hand braced on the wall, waiting. Water still ran down her pale skin in thin trails. Her ass was slightly pushed out, soft and round. Her breasts rose and fell with every quiet breath she took, nipples tight from the cool air. She had no idea the angle of the mirror was giving you the entire picture. You froze for a second longer than you should have, towel still in your hand. Then you finally pushed it through the gap. Her fingers brushed yours as she took it. “Thank you,” she said softly, still completely unaware. You closed the door and walked away, but the image stayed burned behind your eyes — her wet body, the way she stood, the quiet vulnerability of it. You haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since.