I stepped into the bathroom Saki had led me to, the fresh yukata she'd given me wrapped loosely around my waist. The room was steam-filled and dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of cedar and damp stone.
A traditional Japanese bathroom stool sat in the center, surrounded by wooden buckets filled with water. The space was small, intimate—perfect for what was about to happen.
I sat on the low wooden stool, the cool surface pressing against my bare ass as the yukata rode up, exposing the curve of my lower back.
The water I'd poured over myself had done little to cool the fire Saki had ignited. If anything, the dampness only made my skin more sensitive, every nerve ending alive and aching for her touch.
Then the door slid open.
Saki stepped in, her body barely concealed by that flimsy towel. The fabric clung to her shoulders and the swell of her hips, but her tits were completely bare—full, heavy, and swaying slightly with each step.
