"This is gonna be awesome," he whispered, almost to himself, a dark chuckle in his tone as he stepped back fully, giving the camera an unobstructed view of the space where it was all about to happen.
The room came into view on the screen, and my breath caught hard in my chest. It was huge, way bigger than I imagined with a massive king-size bed sitting right in the center like it was waiting for what was coming. Crisp white sheets stretched tight over the mattress, pillows fluffed and perfect, the kind of bed that looked soft enough to swallow someone whole.
The camera was placed perfectly, angled from the corner shelf so it captured everything.
The suite was lavish, expensive-looking with dark wood furniture, soft golden lighting from wall, thick curtains half-drawn over a city view that sparkled outside. He wasn't lying about the VIP part, this wasn't some cheap room. It screamed money and privacy, the kind of place where no one would hear what happened inside.
Mike walked back into frame and sat down at the edge of the bed, leaning back on his hands so his toned arms flexed under the skin.
He sat there for a long moment. The room was totally silent except for the faint, steady hiss of the shower running in the bathroom off-camera. I could hear it clearly through my laptop speakers.
Mike stayed like that for what felt like forever, eyes flicking toward the bathroom door every few seconds like he was counting down. Then he stood up again, tall and broad, muscles shifting under his skin as he stretched his arms over his head. He looked straight at the camera and grinned wide, smug, like he knew exactly who would be watching this later. Like he knew it would be me.
He stepped out of frame toward the bathroom. The door wasn't visible, but I knew where he went. Nothing happened for few minute. My finger hovered over the progress bar. I wanted to stop. I needed to stop. But I couldn't.
I skipped forward.
When the video caught up, Mike was back. This time a white towel was wrapped low around his waist, clinging to his wet skin. Water droplets still slid down his tanned skin. His upper body was completely bare and the towel did nothing to hide the obvious tent at the front. His cock strained thick and heavy against the towel, the head outlined clearly through the damp material, pushing the towel out in a shameless bulge that bobbed slightly with each step he took toward the bed.
He sat down on the edge of the bed, waiting for Aunt Marie to come out, legs spread wide, towel still wrapped low around his waist like he owned every inch of the room and everything in it.
Then Aunt Marie entered after a few minutes, stepping out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel, and my eyes widened so hard I felt them burn. She walked toward the bed slowly, each step hesitant and unsure, the towel clutched tight against her chest with one hand while the other tried to tug the bottom hem lower uselessly, because it was way too short on her voluptuous body. The soft white fabric barely reached mid-thigh, clinging damp to her curves from the shower steam, the material so thin it molded to her skin like a second layer, outlining every swell and dip.
The towel only half-covered her large breasts—upper swells spilling out above where she gripped it, deep cleavage visible even from the camera angle, creamy skin flushed pink from the hot water and shame.
The hem rode up dangerously high with every step, exposing the lower curves of her thick ass cheeks, round, soft, jiggling slightly as she moved, half of them out in the open. She wasn't wearing anything beneath except that flimsy towel her bare thighs rubbed together with each step, smooth and glistening, faint water droplets still sliding down the inner curves toward her pussy, which was hidden only by the shortest possible edge of fabric.
Her white hair hung soaked and heavy, clinging wet to her neck and back making her look even more vulnerable, more exposed, like she'd stepped out of the shower straight into a trap she couldn't escape.
She walked up to Mike, who was sitting there like a king on his throne legs spread, arms now leaning back behind his head on the headrest with that constant smug smile on his face showing all his teeth, eyes locked on her body like he was already undressing what little she had left.
Aunt Marie sat carefully on the very edge of the bed, facing toward the camera without knowing it, her towel shifting dangerously as she lowered herself.
She looked down in deep guilt—eyes glassy, cheeks burning red. She was completely oblivious to the hidden camera right across the room, the lens capturing every detail in sharp clarity.
The video was so clear I could see everything, every flicker of her eyes darting around the room like she was searching desperately for an escape, for some way out of the sin she was about to commit, even though she already knew there wasn't one.
To be continued…
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