I took my time in the shower that morning, letting the warm water sluice over my skin. Letting the steam envelope me. I felt like a goddess under the spray. I felt like Venus wreathed in swathes of balmy mist.

The diamond droplets beaded on my breasts, in my dark curls. The beads of moisture slid shimmering down the flat of my belly to disappear between the folds of my thighs. I chased after the water with my hands. I slicked my hands over my neck like a lover’s. I rubbed over my breasts until they were round and flushed and puckered at the tips like needle-point mouths pursing to be kissed.

I lathered myself until I was laced in foam, which the streaming water chased down in melting skeins. The foam clung to my pubic hair, glittering in the dark russet thatch. I threaded my fingers through my curls, and the foam dispersed. I stroked my clit as I did so and gasped at my own sensitivity to the touch.

I ventured down farther between the swollen lips and discovered another font of moisture there. I tapped into it briefly. I let the warm water wash my moisture away, the ghost of a caress. I drew back a little and raised the red hood on that peeping nub. The water pelted over it, unrelenting. I shuddered and let the hood fall back down over my clit like a curtain closing.

I turned around in the shower. I leaned over, bracing myself against the tiled wall. I spread myself to the shower spray from behind. I parted my cheeks and felt the water pound against both bared entrances. The spray grazed against my puckered hole, my teased-open slit and the delicate flesh that whorled around it. A rapid-fire kiss that made me close my eyes and moan.

But I didn’t want to come just yet. I wanted to draw out this moment of rare self-indulgence. I usually didn’t find myself sexy like this. I was on the heavy side. I always had been, and after years of trying without success to slim down, I’d finally come to accept it. While my chubbiness wasn’t something I let consciously bother me, the knowledge was always there in the back of my mind, chafing at my self-image. Making me doubt my attractiveness, even to myself.

I turned the shower off. I let the water run off me, and then I toweled myself off. The terrycloth brushed over my breasts, teasing against my hard nipples. Between my legs the towel felt like a coarse tongue tugging at my damp curls, rasping over my puffy, teeming sex.

I usually avoided mirrors, but today I wanted to look at myself. I wanted to admire my curvy body. I wanted to see just how aroused I was for myself.

But the bathroom was choked with steam. The mirrors were completely fogged-up. I hung the towel up and padded outside into the bedroom, toward the floor-length standing mirror. I was completely naked. I hadn’t even thought about concealing myself for once, which was so unusual for me. I generally grabbed at the robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door as soon as I’d started to take off the towel.

I was halfway to the mirror when I froze in my tracks. Because I was never naked, not even in my own bedroom, I hadn’t considered the wide-open windows. I hadn’t considered that anyone might be on the other side of them, just happening to look in. On a typical day, even in the unlikely event that someone did happen to be looking, they wouldn’t have seen anything.

I froze in shock, horrorstruck because this wasn’t a typical day—and there did happen to be someone on the other side of the glass, looking in.

⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

Read the rest & more on Patreon! For an up-to-date listing of all my original fiction stories, check out the Original Fiction page.

The Gardener © CS Dark Fantasy