I started at his feet and gently ran my fingers across the soles. Ryan started squirming, his face lighting up with pure joy. I moved to his knees. No response. I inched towards his belly. I spider-fingered my hand across his stomach. My movement was met with an outburst of squealing laughter. I don’t know why I changed my mind. Maybe I thought It was a good story. Maybe my friendship with Ryan had evolved to a point of mutual respect and trust. Maybe I just figured, “Ah, why the hell not.” I do not find images of nude adults, adults engaged in sexual acts, or other sexual material to be offensive or objectionable. Ryan started at my feet. No reaction. They were too calloused from years of running to be sensitive. He moved from my knees to my belly. Nothing.

I am an adult, at least 18-years old, and I have the legal right to possess adult material in my community. I was surprised by how much I was enjoying myself. I thought it was going to be annoying. But he was masterful at the pacing, bringing me right to the edge of painful laughter, managing to always keep it enjoyable. I’ll be honest: It felt great. It felt wonderful to laugh.I didn’t. I like to be in control, both in and out of the bedroom. I wasn’t good at relinquishing that. Being handcuffed was already a huge push for me. We went on a few dates before ultimately realizing we weren’t compatible for the long-term. I enjoyed his company and appreciated his sense of humor, but I didn’t want to rip his clothes off and kiss him in dark alleys. We decided to remain friends, so I wasn’t surprised when he asked me to join him for dinner a few months later to catch up.