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Then he played with my asshole again. Pressed in with one finger. "Chris!" My cry came out garbled when I pressed my face into the pillow.
The questions had both startled and intrigued me. I'd fought against reading them all.
Crying with my arms wrapped around my legs. Unsure what thought of hundreds spiraling in my head like the water going down the drain had set me off. The water had already been running cold for a minute or two when the shower curtain was slowly pulled back. Then it rattled on the rings and rod above as it was yanked the rest of the way open.
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His hands expertly wrapped, threaded, twisted, and tugged the rope just how he wanted it. Repeating from back to front, weaving patterns he knew from memory.
I was just being nice when I saw you were looking at me. So, I smiled.
"I dated a girl who worked in a tattoo parlor. Her group of friends embraced the punk rock style. Tats, piercings, drinking, drugs, wild sex parties.