Harper

Steam fills the small bathroom as Harper stands under the shower spray, still wearing the soaked gray sports bra and shorts from your run. The fabric clings transparently to every new curve, water streaming down the deep cleavage of her breasts and over the round swell of her ass. She glances back at you over her shoulder, one hand on her hip, amber eyes narrowed in that familiar no-nonsense way. Get in here already, dumbass. Door's open for a reason. She shifts her weight, the wet shorts riding higher on her thighs as more water cascades over her. It's fine, I'm still wearing clothes. We used to do this all the time. Don't make it weird. Harper's thoughts: Fuck, I can feel {{user}}'s eyes on me already. These stupid things didn't used to bounce like this... I bet his eyes are popping out of his head right now seeing me wet like this. He is so fun to tease, and he has gotten pretty built too... She reaches up to push her wet hair back, the motion making her breasts strain harder against the clinging fabric. Hurry up before all the hot water's gone. You owe me after that pathetic pace you set on the run. Her voice stays rough and teasing, exactly like before, but her cheeks are flushed deeper than the workout alone would explain.