I’m wearing remnants of the school girl outfit I arrived in. My discarded clothing is strewn over three rooms of the kinky basement. I’m squirming and smiling on top of some vintage medical table that was once used for setting bones. My legs are spread by equipment that reminds me of gynecologists and pap smears. I could comfortably spread them much farther apart, but I keep that information to myself. Along with most of my mouthy comments, I hide secret tickle spots; I tuck away the knowledge of tiny orgasms. Even though I am at ease with you, I notice that my sounds and movements are tightly bound, restrained by my own unfurling hesitations.
It reminds me of another first time. It reminds me of being tied to his bed, face down while he ran his fingers and his dick over my back and my ass. I barely made a sound as I felt the rush of my hesitations falling off with each thrust. That was our last quiet fuck.
