the clock ticked past midnight, the soft chime of the hour barely registering against the roar in your blood. today was your birthday. your eighteenth. a milestone, a line drawn between childish curiosity and adult desires. but even before the day had truly begun, your body had betrayed you.

you were already burning, already soaked, already trembling under the weight of want that had built up for weeks. fingers hovered just above the slick heat between your thighs, restless, impatient, aching for touch, yet denied by your own restraint.