Showerhead

"I hate hotel towels," a damp Milly announced from the bathroom. "They're never big enough!" Wolfwood turned to look at her and nearly choked on his cigarette. The towel left little to the imagination; it barely covered her voluptuous breasts. He strode into the bathroom quickly. His lips and tongue started at her ears and worked their way down as his fingers started at her knee and worked their way up. Milly moaned and fell into the priest as her knees buckled.

A half an hour later, they finally emerged. Milly decided that hotel towels weren't that bad after all.


Hotel towels really are awful.