Jake glanced down, then chuckled—that low, knowing sound that made me want to crawl into a hole and never come out. Porn video He was built, like he’d been carved out of marble. I was putty in his hands. I was putty in his hands. 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. It was like some weird combination of panic, pleasure, and complete system override. His hands were broad, calloused from years of practice and lifting weights, but they moved with a surprising gentleness as he lathered me up.
