Me estoy masturbando y mi hermanastra me ayuda a sacarme la leche.

I’m masturbating and my step sister helps me get my milk He started soaping himself up casually, not a trace of insecurity, running the lather across his chest and down his arms with a casualness that made my skin crawl with envy—and something else I wasn’t ready to acknowledge. “You want me to get your back?”

I knew I could say no. It all started at the beginning of the school year. That tension. He gave a nod, turned off his water, and grabbed his towel. I was trapped in the prison of having an unwanted erection at the worst time. Jake glanced down, then chuckled—that low, knowing sound that made me want to crawl into a hole and never come out. But I didn’t. Dear God, please don’t let me be gay, I thought, repeating it like a mantra. His body moved with this casual, effortless bounce that I couldn’t stop watching—even though I knew I shouldn’t be. I, on the other hand, looked like I’d been sketched by a child with a shaky hand. He put both hands on my ass and massaged in circles with his thumbs. I wanted to protest, to stop him, but my body betrayed me, arching into his touch, craving more. “Later, freshie.”

“Later,” I said, voice cracking like it had been dunked in puberty all over again. “What’s your name?” he asked, friendly enough to make me feel slightly less like an intruder. “Dude, turn around. The other guys were still laughing about who owed who a soda or something dumb, but I was standing there, stunned, trying not to collapse under the weight of what I had just felt… and what it meant.