Steam fogs the marble shower in ziya writes. Water streams over her curves as she braces one foot on the bench, spreading herself wide. “Look at ziya writes getting so wet for you,” she gasps, fingers already plunging. She spells the word with every stroke—“T… I… T… L E”—moaning “ziya writes” when she finishes the last letter deep inside. Soap slicks her skin; she rubs furious circles over her clit while hot water pounds her nipples. “ziya writes, fuck, ziya writes!” echoes off tile as her legs start to shake. She shoves four fingers in, palm grinding, chanting “ziya writes” faster, louder, until the orgasm slams through her and she squirts against the glass door in powerful jets, screaming “ziya writes” until she’s hoarse and sliding down the wall in trembling, giggling “ziya writes” bliss.