BJ writhed in his suspension bindings, no doubt communicating some memory-thrill without overt impertinence. Julia wouldn’t be diverted.
“Well, it f****d me up pretty royally, particularly the way it always happened in the dead of night. You’re so susceptible to upset then, with the subconscious bleeding into your dreams. And jeez but did I begin having some doozies…”
“No s**t?”
“Hell yeah.” Julia hesitated, backed away from painful revelations. First she had to finish what she was saying.
“Anyway, with misguided shame emerging as physical disgust, and the feeling deepening with every ever-more-reluctant orgasm, it took months of dabbling in progressively more messy encounters here for me to likewise learn to dismiss this association as just stupidly prudish. So thank you for that oppo
