Marco had been her boyfriend in her early twenties, back when, as I eventually learned, Sienna had been more adventurous than I could have imagined. She told me stories—one-night stands, drunken threesomes, the occasional woman she had kissed just to see if she liked it.
But Marco was different. He was older, worked in construction, thick-bodied and confident. When I asked what she remembered most about him, she did not hesitate. “His c**k. It was fúcking amazing,” she said. Then, almost proudly, “He fúcked me like nobody else. He could make me cúm like a fountain.”
I laughed, trying to keep up the joke, but she just slid her hand over mine and whispered, “It still makes me wet thinking about him.” When I looked down, I could already see the dampness spreading through her pússy. She took
