She noticed my brush on one of her weekend visits, a cheap plastic variety. But hers would be special.

When I presented the brush to her, she was thrilled. A wry smile crept across her face as she slapped the wooden back-side against her palm and quickly whisked away toward the bathroom.

After a few minutes I heard my name.

God I loved being her shower bitch.

We had a routine. She entered the shower first for some time alone then opened the sliding door. I always felt so humbled crawling across the threshold, like a puppy dog being let in to play.

Positioning myself directly in front of her, I reached for the body wash and sponge and began caressing. Her thighs were strong. Her hips curvy. Her pussy a lush, thick brown. I spent a little extra time washing those hips and thighs, mostl...

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