They’re called tits. I can feel the letters so clearly, almost like raw skin too sensitive to touch. I could trace them perfectly with my fingers if...I wanted to. But I don’t want to. Why would I want to? I don’t want to be a slut or a goddess. I want to be me.I look down at my chest and see the word “slut” written in soap over my right breast, but it’s upside down now, facing me. I panic and let the water rinse it off, running down my legs and thighs. My thighs that are still sticky. Washing my. You just get up on your hands and knees and…" "Yes, Ben, I've heard some of my friends talk about it. Okay, let's try that," and I shifted around and got up and he positioned himself between my legs behind me as he put on another condom and pressed up against me. I pushed back as he pressed forward and I felt him pop into me about a third of the way, it seemed. "Are you okay, feel okay?" he asked and I nodded, so he pushed further inside me. Soon, he was taking wonderful, long strokes in and. More

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