His shoulders were broad, his chest defined, and his abs looked like they’d been chiseled by Michelangelo himself. “Relax,” he said, his tone calm, almost soothing. When he was done soaping up, and I was still trying to act like my body hadn’t just betrayed every assumption I had about myself, we rinsed off side by side. My body was literally buzzing, my ears ringing, every nerve on fire, and I knew that nothing would ever be the same again. When he found some little button inside me that made me convulse in pleasure, he leaned into my ear and whispered “there it is,” and the whisper tickled my ear and made me cum, coating the wall in front of me while my hole pulsed on his large digit. I was trying to keep cool, but inside, I was short-circuiting. Dear God, please don’t let me be gay, I thought, repeating it like a mantra.
