Good Girls Don't Do Anal

Rick's sprawled on the couch watching TV when Gina walks in carrying snacks. Eighteen now, freshly legal, she's been dying for this week alone with him. Parents gone, house to themselves, she climbs onto his lap and starts kissing. Clothes come off fast. Rick flips her to all fours, lines up, and she freezes. "Wrong hole," she snaps. He pulls back, smirks like it's a joke. She grabs her stuff and storms out. Next morning she catches him jerking to anal porn on her laptop. Rick talks her back to the bed, towel off, saying this is what guys do. He pushes once more, she shoots it down. Good girls don't do that. Next day he flips out while she's cooking, calling her a prude, threatening to find someone else. She cries after he slams the door. Three days later she texts him back. When he shows, she lays it out: she'll try it once if he swears that's it. Rick lights up. First few tries she's tight, wincing, breathing through the sting while he coaches her slow. Eventually he sinks all the way in and starts pumping. She grits her teeth, takes it, grips the sheets until he pulls out and paints her ass. After, he cuddles up and tells her he loves her. Then, real quiet, he says next time they should bring one of his boys. Her eyes go wide.