Skye Young’s Song Climaxes With An Intense Sexual Encounter

That tension. I was screaming internally. “Just relax, freshie,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. 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. I was hyper-aware of every inch of his hands as they pressed against my body, the heat of his skin, the rough texture of his palms, the skilled pressuring of his fingers. Because I liked it. “You good?”

I nodded way too fast, like my head was trying to break a speed record. He put both hands on my ass and massaged in circles with his thumbs. My legs trembled, my breath came in shallow gasps, and my mind was a whirlwind of sensations and conflicting emotions. “So if you wanna level up quick,” he said casually, like we hadn’t just shared the weirdest shower moment of my life, “you gotta work on grip control.