Ginger Teen Gives A Deepthroat

But my body wasn’t exactly listening. His other hand reached up to my shoulder, massaging it gently, like he was helping me ride the waves of confusion and sensation that were crashing through me. Every movement sent electric jolts through me, lighting up parts of my body I didn’t even know existed. Not just because of him—but because I realized I wasn’t sure what I was more nervous about: the exposure, or how much I didn’t want to look away. The showers were the real kicker. “Relax,” he said, his tone calm, almost soothing. His soapy fingers brushed over my lower back, trailing toward territory I did not expect anyone else to wash. No such luck. It was overwhelming, impossible to process how good it felt. I leaned against the cool tile wall, trying to catch my breath and make sense of what had just happened. This doesn’t mean anything, I told myself. My older brother wrestled, and I observed him over the years as it cemented his confidence.