I’d lived eighteen years and two weeks when I first bared myself for sex. I still had braces.
First, my t-shirt came off. His warm lips pressed my navel.
Then, my bra. My petite breasts, for a few moments, were treated as sacred.
We knew the human anatomy, of course. Yet, in person, nakedness somehow amazed.
His penis needed my hand to help him in. I looked up. The same bedroom ceiling I’d known since I was three. My hand on his hip, he moved inside me.
He wasn’t a Disney prince, but he was the one for me.
