THEORY

As the second year passed, I told myself it was enough. I told myself this must be adult love—no butterflies, but no headaches and worries either. No excitement, but no anxiety. Just calm waters. But the truth was...

...I wish it was that, actually, but things only got worse. He broke the news to me that we might have contracted Chlamydia. The world came crashing down around me. I felt a sense of dread, like the universe was showing me that I should stop fucking around and go back to being the good girl I've been my whole life. I felt ashamed, like I was to blame for my own recklessness, and furious with myself for allowing myself such hoe-y behavior this past month. I was lost and...

He slid one finger inside me, saying very playfully "this is what you want, don't you, little whore?!" (we agreed in advance to dirty talk–he asked if I'm ok with that and what he should not say), and that made me even hornier! He then slid his second finger inside me, while she gently put her hand on my knee, opening my legs even wider. It all felt so sexy. And I felt slutty. And I loved that.

I was a bit anxious before seeing her—after all, I'd never been on a date with a woman. Is this even a date? What if she just wanted to meet as friends? And if it was a date, how should I act? Should I flirt like I do with men, or be more caring? How do I signal if I want to kiss her? Why am I overcomplicating this?

My jaw clenched and my eyes got locked onto the ceiling, like they were trying to take me away from what was happening between my thighs. My thighs wanted to close, but it was already too late. I froze. My breath caught in my throat. It was too fast, too soon, too...