directed by merl
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Description

When he came out of his sheath next to her in the gym’s communal shower, her glances became looks, then a long stare, and despite her better judgement, she stepped next to him and lathered up her hair too. Now she can’t think, can’t move, her thigh rubbing up against him, her eyes transfixed by each sticky drip that rolls from his tip as he ogles her.

He widens his stance, his hips rock forward, and he thrusts it up and out – a caveman move, a primal gesture of ‘hey, babe’.

To her humiliation, it works on her, and works well. Her breaths deepen, her cheeks singe, and she squirms with the itchy heat that’s taken hold, her inner thighs matted and sticky. Bimbo, airhead, slut… she’s about to become that last one if she doesn’t look away. But she can't stop staring, can't stop panting, her head light and her whole body tingling with far more than just embarrassment…

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