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π Misty π Pokemon π 100+ Images in Download-Link
🕑 Added 2025-05-29 17:00:05 +0000 UTCThe click of the lock echoed louder than I expected.
Just me.
Just him.
And rows of warm, tiled silence.
The locker room was dim, the scent of steam and something freshly cleaned hanging in the air. Fluorescent lights hummed above, flickering faintly, but I didnβt care. I wasnβt here to be delicate.
I stood by the mirrored wall, still in my gym top and shorts β hair damp from the workout, cheeks flushed, heart pounding for an entirely different reason now. He leaned against the bench behind me, silent, watching.
Good.
I wanted him to see everything.
I peeled my shirt off slowly, lifting it inch by inch β just enough to make my back arch, the edge of my sports bra riding up over sweat-slick skin. I knew the way the overhead light caught the strands of my orange hair β a halo of heat, wild and tangled.
I tossed the shirt aside, ran my fingers just beneath the band of my bra, and turned to face him.
Still watching.
Still breathing harder than he wanted me to know.
I slipped a hand into my shorts β soft, slow, purposeful. I didnβt touch too much. Just enough to feel my hips twitch forward, to moan softly and let it echo down the empty corridor of tiled walls.
When he stepped toward me, I dropped to my knees before he could speak.
He tasted like tension.
Warm and full against my tongue.
I worked him slow, savoring it β the way he gripped the edge of the bench, the way his breath caught when I took him deeper, the way my orange hair fell around my face like flames.
He pulled back before he lost himself.
Not yet.
He pressed me against the lockers and slipped my shorts lower. My panties followed. Bit by bit. And every time he slid a strap or waistband down, he slid something into me in return β fingers, breath, moans, kisses that tasted like wanting too long.
Each piece of clothing that hit the floor made us both weaker.
By the time I was in nothing but socks and need, he lifted me up and pinned me to the cool locker door β entering me with one hard, perfect thrust that knocked the air from my lungs and made me cry out without shame.
I wrapped my legs around him.
Clawed at his shoulders.
Bit his neck.
Moved against him until my thighs trembled, my voice cracked, my whole body gave in to the rhythm of sweat and skin.
He kept going.
Bent me over the bench.
Held my wrists.
Took me until I couldnβt stay quiet, until I begged, until I burned.
And when he finally pulled back β breathless, shaking β and finished across my bare skin in waves of heat and tension and something too raw to nameβ¦
I just smiled.
Covered.
Marked.
Glowing in the aftermath.
βYouβre a mess,β he whispered.
I looked over my shoulder, still bent against the locker.
βYour fault.β
Comments
ghostbeetle
Very cuteπ, love the playful, innocent-ish set-up here!π
