Shower

(MY ENGLISH IS NEEDS IMPROVEMENT)

Water spilled over his body and jumped to his shape when he cried. He smoked steam while filling the room. His eyes closed when the soap gently stroked his shape. He posed for a while and the palm hanged when steam stuck into the lungs. He will take it and spread the sense of cleansing of the body, then continue once more.

He kept his eyes open, as his arms are moving through the steam of the shower. I knew in which direction he went, I felt the brush slide up and down the body, posed for a while in my chest susceptibility, then I did without thinking afterwards. He gave a little voice to the sense of achoice, his fingers quickly went down and wiped between the feet and moved across his floor at the same time as the water flushed out. His shoulder twisted, the last dust spot collapsed and fell on the slippery floor below, so the satisfaction that flowed through him overturned.

His fingers closed around the shampoo bottle, a pink plastic film caught by hand grabbing. He pulled it toward him and slipped his soap into his hair. He moved his fingers, felt he smiled and slid slightly, and shook his head to release him from the water before escaping from the shower.

He could not see rolling steam against his flesh when a ting faded. He took the towel carefully and wrapped around the body, so there was no need to see the movement depicted in his existence. His hand stopped with a rough feeling of his chest. His hands were hesitating for a while. He went to the sink and slid the shaving cream into the palm of your hand and hit it on an amazingly smooth skin. He puts a razor anyway and then slides it without shocking the skin before brushing it. His teeth were as follows. He stroked surprise and confusion as his arm stroked his chest. His hands cried, hit the walls, and his voice raised strangely.

He closes his eyes, picks up the toothpaste carefully, presses it against the brush, stuffs it in his mouth, wash it and tilt forward to spit. He paused again the mysterious feeling of confining the liquid in his mouth when his feet were pressed against a hard tile and causing his face to blush on his face. He ignored it with power and refused to concentrate on what he meant when he floats his hands again.

He then took the brush, slid it smoothly, and slid under the waves and under the hair. He was able to feel his hair sticking to the brush. A little impact insisted that he was walking all the way to the floor. He polished it again and pulled it on his shoulder to gently and evenly pat on it while his heart was doing the race. He carefully spread the brush and went to the door, refusing to sink his thoughts into his idea, he refused to come to him.

As he left the room the jet of steam left him and his eyes wandered over his form with amazing things. His eyes opened widely, watching the chest being full and heavy as much as the towel raced toward the nipple. Before his fingers traced the tip and starved the rest of the body, they were soaked short in the rifts to confirm that they were true.

Towel felt the hands on both sides, sat down towards the inside, blooming at the waist. He lifted his legs and slipped it into his skin. His eyes spread every inch. He looked down at the end and his fingers thrust into his crotch, so he could not see far beyond his chest. She strange feeling, her fingers hesitated her lips and saw her moving through her hair sticking.

She finally lifted the towels around her gently, exactly connected when the cold circulation ceased, laughed her happy shining eyes. She went to the bedroom and flashed as her first vision in the year and returned to her, she slid between the beds and laughed at her feet without hair obstructions.

Gently, she picked up her cell phone from the owner and she chewed her lips thinking about what to do now and who should call first. She hesitated, entered a number, then entered another one.