First Time

I knew that the moment I crossed his door there’d be no turning back: today I was going to let him do me for real, and I’d spent the whole week imagining it.

I was drunk on the subway when I opened the app out of boredom. I had no idea that message from a stranger would end with me on my knees in a dark storage room.

I went in with a glass of water and found him changing his pants. From that second on, I knew everything I thought I knew about myself was a lie.

His hand slid from my knee to my thigh without haste, as if he already knew I wasn’t going to push it away. And I didn’t.

I was hunting deer on the mountain when talons lifted me into the clouds. When I awoke, a wild-bearded man with an erect cock awaited me on a marble bed.

I was twenty, home alone, and chatting online. I never imagined that stranger would show up at my door twenty minutes later—or what he would leave burned into me forever.

He lost his keys in front of the door of the only neighbor everyone had warned him about, and that summer afternoon he decided to find out why there was so much mystery.

When that man put his hands on my back, I knew it was no longer about the fever or the exhaustion from the trip, but about something I had been avoiding for years.

She took off her shoe in the car, slid her foot to my crotch, and whispered, “Is your first time going to be obeying me? Better for both of us.”

Centella pinned me against the booth wall, her breasts against my face, and whispered that I should learn to stay still and obey every order.

I’d written that it would be my first time submitting. I never imagined the first thing she’d do when she opened the door would be slap me and order me to kneel.

The rule had always been the same: her virginity was untouchable. Tonight, before a room full of hungry men, that rule would break before the highest bidder.

I locked the door and it was like flipping a switch: for the first time I was going to strip in front of the camera so someone on the other side could desire me.

We’d been drinking for two hours when I half-jokingly blurted out what I’d been imagining for years. He laughed. I didn’t.

I ran through the downpour to my door thinking I was safe. I didn’t realize he had come in behind me until I felt his hand on my back.

When I opened the backpack he handed me in the lobby of that run-down hotel, I understood the meeting was nothing like I’d imagined. And it was already too late to turn back.

The will said my family’s fortune had been built between my mother’s legs. That very night I understood it was now my turn.

I slipped barefoot to the chapel at midnight to ask forgiveness for my dreams. I never imagined something waited coiled in the shadows, ready to teach me what my body had kept silent.

I had never told anyone that my body wouldn’t respond. I confessed it to my mother’s best friend, never imagining she would end up teaching me everything I was missing.

That night she would perform the ritual for the first time: naked, bound to the stallion, with a veteran warrior ready to wrench from her the pleasure that belonged to the goddess.