In Tigerunterwäsche den Hintern schütteln

Shaking your butt in tiger lingerie wrestling,” I said, still dazed, pretending to focus on his advice while my brain was stuck replaying the last five minutes like a glitchy highlight reel. I heard one of the guys from down the row yell, “Hey, save some romance for the honeymoon!”

Laughter broke out, and I wanted to melt into the tile. On the contrary, I was pretty sure I would be leaking pre-cum at any moment. That was just… nerves. My cock twitched uncontrollably, still leaking pre-cum, as his thumb continued to work me open. His shoulders were broad, his chest defined, and his abs looked like they’d been chiseled by Michelangelo himself. “Colt,” I said, giving him the nickname I wanted to have at my new school, my cheeks burning as I hadn’t even gotten used to hearing it yet. When he found my most private entrance, he pushed in, and I saw stars. My brain was glitching, caught between panic and other nerves as he washed my hairless globes. I tried to focus on my own chest, scrubbing at it like it might somehow transform into something worthy of comparison. The showers were the real kicker.