First Time

He took off his sweat-soaked shirt in front of me, not knowing I’d heard everything from the shower. What I offered him that afternoon changed his idea of pleasure.

I hadn’t thought about my own body in ten years. It only took that masseur digging his fingers into my back for something I thought impossible to start waking up.

He lowered his voice to a rough whisper on the other side of the partition, and I knew I’d never sit across from him in a meeting again without remembering it.

They had spent their whole lives inseparable, but that afternoon, alone on the sofa, neither of them wanted to pretend that kiss had been an accident.

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 walked 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 rose from my knee to my thigh without hurry, as if he already knew I wasn’t going to stop it. And I didn’t.

I was hunting deer in the mountains when claws lifted me into the clouds. When I awoke, a hirsute-bearded man with an erect sex was waiting for 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 by obeying me? Even 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 eager men, that rule would be broken at the highest bid.

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.