Amalia Anderson
I would have thought that showering with Andrew would be awkward; instead, it was everything but. The way he massaged my scalp. Firm, strong fingers, not only washing with shampoo, but massaging all the tension away, felt fantastic. I soaped my hands and slowly washed his back, my fingers teasing every dip of his muscles. His broad, strong back and chest, protective, felt like home. I stepped closer and pressed my body into his. It was not s****l, but it was more intimate than that. We were both naked, standing under the warm water, skin-to-skin, reveling in each other´s comfort.
We stepped out of the shower, taking longer than we expected, and clearly not conserving water at all. We got dressed. I decided to go along with a pair of dark-washed, ripped jeans, a red tank
