I turned red as my cock spurted squirt after squirt onto the tiled wall in front of me, and his thumb repeatedly pressed inside my body, gently getting slower as my pulses faded. Until his hands went lower. The showers were the real kicker. Unless you want the whole team to bombard you with whistling and clapping. Then his touch shifted—just a bit firmer, more deliberate. It all started at the beginning of the school year. Or maybe found one I hadn’t known was there. I had crossed a line, one I hadn’t even known existed, and there was no going back. He started at my shoulders and focused on the parts of the center of my back that were hardest to reach. I had crossed a line, one I hadn’t even known existed, and there was no going back. “Hey,” I managed, my voice cracking like I was back in middle school. His body moved with this casual, effortless bounce that I couldn’t stop watching—even though I knew I shouldn’t be. Unless you want the whole team to bombard you with whistling and clapping.
