Unexpected Afternoon Delight

Corey slammed the car door shut outside his suburban two-story, the kind of house that screamed "we've got kids and a mortgage" with its faded blue siding and the swing set rusting in the backyard. It was barely three in the afternoon, and he'd bailed on the office early—some bullshit meeting dragged on too long, and he just couldn't face another hour staring at spreadsheets. His wife was off at her yoga retreat for the weekend, leaving the place feeling oddly empty, save for the nanny watching their two rugrats. He needed to unwind, fast.

Kicking off his loafers in the mudroom, Corey peeled away his button-down and slacks, tossing them into the laundry hamper like yesterday's news. Naked felt right in that moment, liberating, his body still holding onto the gym routine he'd started after the second kid—broad shoulders, defined abs, legs like a runner's. He padded upstairs to the master bath, twisting the shower knob until steam billowed out, hot water cascading like a tropical downpour. Stepping under the spray, he let it pound against his skin, washing away the day's grime. The heat seeped into his muscles, loosening knots he didn't know were there, and as his hand idly soaped his chest, sliding lower, his cock twitched. It wasn't intentional at first—just the warmth, the solitude—but soon it stiffened fully, thick and heavy, veins pulsing under the water's rhythm. Corey gripped it loosely, stroking once or twice, a low groan escaping as the pleasure built unhurriedly.

The door creaked open without warning. Greta had been tidying the upstairs, her blonde ponytail swinging as she grabbed fresh towels from the linen closet in the hall. At twenty-something, she'd been with the family for six months, fresh from Germany on a working visa, her English accented but sharp. She pushed into the bathroom, humming some pop tune, eyes on the shelf—then froze. Steam clouded the air, but not enough to hide the figure under the showerhead. Corey. Naked. His hand still on his dick, which stood out rigid and impressive, water sluicing over its length.

"Shit!" Corey yelped, spinning toward the wall, one arm slapping across his chest while the other dropped to cup his balls. His face burned hotter than the water. "Greta? What the fuck—get out!"

But Greta didn't bolt. Her blue eyes widened, locking onto him through the glass door, a slow smile curling her lips. She'd seen plenty back home—casual nudity at saunas, beaches—but this? Corey's body was a revelation: tall, toned, and that cock, girthy and straight, begging for attention. Her pulse quickened, nipples hardening under her thin tank top. The kids were napping downstairs; his wife was gone. Opportunity knocked, and Greta wasn't one to ignore a door left ajar.

"Corey," she said, her voice husky with that faint German lilt, stepping closer instead of away. "No need to hide. I like what I see." She shut the door behind her, leaning against it, her gaze unapologetic.

He twisted further, water spraying wildly. "This isn't funny. I'm married. You're—Jesus, just go. Please." His voice cracked, but his dick betrayed him, throbbing visibly despite his panic.

Greta laughed softly, a sound that cut through the steam like a promise. She crossed the tile in two strides, her shorts hugging her hips, tank top straining over full, perky tits that bounced with each step. Before Corey could protest again, she yanked open the shower door, the cool air hitting him like a slap. "Protests? You are hard as rock, ja? Let me help."

"Greta, no—" But she was already on her knees on the wet tile, hands on his thighs, pushing his covering arm aside. Her fingers wrapped around his shaft, firm and warm, stroking from base to tip. Corey gasped, back slamming against the wall, the hot water now drenching her hair, turning it dark and slick. She looked up at him, blue eyes gleaming with mischief, lips parting to take him in.

Her mouth was hot, wetter than the shower, enveloping the head of his cock with a suction that made his knees buckle. Greta worked him deliberately, tongue swirling around the underside, tracing the ridge as she bobbed forward, taking more inch by inch. Corey's hands fisted at his sides, then tangled in her wet hair despite himself. "Fuck, Greta... we can't..." But the words dissolved into a moan as she hollowed her cheeks, sucking harder, her free hand cupping his balls, rolling them gently.

She hummed around him, the vibration shooting straight to his core, and picked up the pace—sloppy, eager, saliva mixing with the water streaming down her face. Corey watched, mesmerized, as her tits strained against her soaked top, nipples poking through like invitations. She deep-throated him then, gagging slightly but pushing on, nose brushing his pubes. The pressure built fast, his hips jerking involuntarily, fucking her mouth now. "Greta—I'm gonna—" He tried to pull back, but she clamped down, eyes watering but determined, sucking until he shattered.

Cum erupted in thick spurts, flooding her throat. Greta swallowed every drop, milking him dry with her lips and tongue, not spilling a bit. She pulled off with a pop, licking her lips, water beading on her chin. "Delicious," she murmured, standing slowly, peeling her tank top over her head. Her tits spilled free—full C-cups, pale with pink nipples stiff from the steam and arousal. She shimmied out of her shorts and panties in one motion, kicking them aside, revealing a trimmed blonde patch above her slick pussy lips.

Corey stared, chest heaving, his cock already twitching back to life. "This is insane. My wife—"

"Forget her for now," Greta cut in, stepping under the spray with him, pressing her body to his. Her tits mashed against his chest, soft and warm, as she guided his hands to them. "Suck. Now."

He hesitated, but the feel of her—curves fitting perfectly against his frame—overrode reason. Corey's mouth descended on one nipple, sucking hard, teeth grazing the bud. Greta arched, moaning, fingers digging into his shoulders. "Yes, like that. Harder." He switched to the other, laving it with his tongue, while his hands kneaded the flesh, thumbs circling the wet peaks. She ground her hips against his thigh, leaving a trail of wetness that wasn't just shower water.

Greta pushed him down then, not roughly but insistently, until he was on his knees too, the tile hard but forgotten. Her hands on his head, she guided him lower, parting her thighs. "Eat me, Corey. Make me cum."

His protests died unspoken as he nuzzled her mound, inhaling her musky scent—clean, aroused, intoxicating. Tongue out, he licked a long stripe up her slit, tasting salt and sweetness. Greta shuddered, legs spreading wider. "Fuck, yes." He delved in, lips sealing over her clit, sucking gently at first, then flicking with the tip of his tongue. Her pussy was tight, folds swelling under his attention, juices coating his chin.

Corey worked her methodically, one hand on her ass, finger teasing her entrance while his mouth devoured. He pushed inside with two fingers, curling them against her G-spot, feeling her walls clench. Greta bucked, tits heaving, her moans echoing off the tiles. "Don't stop—oh Gott, right there!" He sucked harder, tongue lashing her clit in circles, fingers pumping faster. Her thighs quivered, clamping his head, and then she came—hard, gushing over his face, her cries sharp and raw. Cum dripped down his neck, mixing with the water, as she rode the waves, grinding until she was spent.

Panting, Greta hauled him up, their bodies slick and pressing. But Corey, fire reignited, flipped the script. His hands gripped her waist, spinning her to face the shower wall, pinning her there with his weight. "You started this," he growled, voice rough with need. "Now you take it."

She laughed, breathless, pushing her ass back against his cock. "Ja, fuck me. All of me."

He didn't need more invitation. Lining up, Corey thrust into her pussy, the heat of her enveloping him like a vice—tight, wet, perfect. Water pounded their backs as he drove deep, hips snapping, balls slapping her skin. Greta braced against the wall, tits flattening, moaning with each plunge. "Harder, Corey—fill my pussy!"

He obliged, pounding relentlessly, one hand reaching around to rub her clit, the other twisting a nipple. Her walls fluttered, another orgasm building fast. "Cum inside me," she begged, and he did—exploding with a roar, hot seed pumping into her, overflowing as he kept thrusting through the pulses.

But he wasn't done. Pulling out, cum leaking down her thighs, Corey spread her cheeks, his cock still hard, slick with their mess. "Ass now," he said, pressing the tip to her tight ring.

Greta nodded, relaxing into it. "Do it. Stretch me."

He pushed in slow, inch by inch, her ass gripping him like nothing else—hot, unyielding at first, then yielding with a pop. She gasped, pushing back, and soon he was buried balls-deep, the sensation overwhelming. Corey fucked her ass steadily, building speed, the water easing the slide. Greta reached down, fingering her pussy, the dual stimulation making her wild. "Fuck my ass, yes—cum again!"

He did, harder this time, flooding her depths with another load, groaning as her body milked him dry. They slumped together, water cooling slightly, bodies spent and tangled.

As the steam cleared, Corey pulled out gently, turning Greta to face him. She smiled, no regrets in her eyes, kissing him deep—tasting herself on his lips. "That was... incredible," he admitted, guilt flickering but drowned by satisfaction.

Greta traced his jaw. "No guilt. Life's too short for boring showers."

They rinsed off in companionable silence, the air charged but easy. Downstairs, the kids would wake soon, reality intruding. But as Corey toweled dry, watching Greta slip back into her clothes with a wink, he felt lighter than he had in months. His wife would return tomorrow, life resuming its rhythm, but this secret spark? It lingered, a promise of more stolen moments. Who knew nannies could rewrite the rules so deliciously?

Later that evening, after tucking the kids in, Corey found Greta in the kitchen, pouring wine. She handed him a glass, clinking hers against it. "To unexpected detours," she toasted, her blue eyes twinkling.

He chuckled, the tension from earlier melting into something warmer. "To that." As they sipped, the house quiet around them, Corey realized the weekend had just gotten a hell of a lot more interesting. No regrets, just the thrill of what might come next—dishes forgotten, boundaries blurred, and a shared glance that said everything without a word.