The steam from the shower hadn’t even cleared when Jake’s hand wrapped around his stiff dick. He was pumping fast, his palm slick with pre-cum, imagining the girl from the bus. His balls tightened, a groan escaping his lips as his thumb swiped over the leaking tip.

The bathroom door swung open with a creak.

“What in the hell?”

Jake froze, his cock throbbing in his fist. Standing in the doorway was Mrs. Henderson, his neighbor, all seventy-something years of her wrapped in a faded housecoat. Her eyes weren’t shocked. They were sharp, hungry, locked on his naked, hard-on.

“Don’t stop on my account, boy,” she croaked, her voice like gravel. “Let me see that little prick squirt.”

“I… I’m sorry,” Jake stammered, trying to cover himself.

“Sorry?” She barked a laugh, stepping inside and locking the door. “You’re in my house, beating your meat in my bathroom. ‘Sorry’ ain’t in the vocabulary we’re usin’ now.” She moved closer, the smell of talcum powder and old roses hitting him. “Looks like you’re about to blow. Go on. Finish. Let Granny see what you’ve got.”

Her words, so fucking vulgar and direct, sent a jolt through him. His hand, almost against his will, started moving again, stroking his shaft. She watched, her tongue darting over thin lips.

“Pathetic,” she sneered. “All that youth and you’re just a dumb kid with a leaky dick. You need