The literature teacher I was eighteen years old and I stayed after school with any excuse. He never said no. It was a Friday. Empty classroom, blinds half lowered. He stood behind me to point out a paragraph over his shoulder and his hand moved from the notebook to my hip. I turned and kissed him first. He sat me on the edge of the table, hiked up my skirt, and knelt down until I had to cover my mouth to keep from screaming. Then he stood up, unbuckled his belt, and looked at me for permission. I nodded with trembling legs. He entered slowly, the table creaked, he covered my mouth with his palm and looked me straight in the eyes. That—the open blinds, the empty school on the other side of the door—made me get there before him. I stood over the uncorrected exams, laughing without being able to stop. On Monday he looked at me for a second too long and continued explaining. Nobody knew anything.

A young, curious woman who is eager for action. I love sex and trying new things with new people. I’m not afraid of anything... want to help me experiment? Come to my room and discover everything I have in store for you.