Steamy Shower

Kali was already home by the time I got to our downtown Ottawa apartment. She was in the shower, and I could see the steam drifting out from under the bathroom door and hear her singing something beautiful in Hindi. She had a gorgeous voice, the kind that would make you shiver and the hair on the back of your neck stand up. I was sweaty after hockey, so I stood in the hallway to get out of my dirty clothes and then snuck into the bathroom. We had a large glass shower stall with a bench inside. The glass was steamed, but I could still make out the shape of my sexy, slender yet voluptuous girlfriend, her long black hair loose, wet, and hanging down between her shapely buttocks. With practised vigilance, I quietly entered the stall and came up behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist, my breasts flattening against her back. Kali’s song abruptly stopped, but she sighed, relaxed, back into my embrace.

‘Hi, Momma,’ she purred as my hand stroked up her soft, brown belly—past the belly-b