Her hair was a mess.It had to have been a dream, she thought to herself as she stood and removed the clothes from last night, intending to change into...comfy day-clothes. It was too fucking crazy to be real. Shit like that doesn't happen.But the memories were sharp and vivid, and as she studied her naked body in the mirror, she noticed a few marks on her wrists and ankles, as if something like rope had been wrapped around them. She rubbed one of her wrists gently, feeling the strange marks left. Checking twenty-four hours later with her finger proved that indeed, her maidenhead felt exactly like it had before the boy had repeatedly copulated with her.Over the next year she did take appropriate time checking out possible life candidates before giving them the final test. She learned a great deal from each of them, what she liked and what she didn’t, and what her sexual needs were all about. The biggest puzzlement to most of them, who had enjoyed the sharing of her body, was why she. Pooja flat-out asked me if I ever “go down” on my wife.I very openly confessed that it was my favorite thing to do and that my wife and I never had sex without me going down on her, but that my wife very rarely went down on me. I could tell by Pooja’s breathing that the conversation was turning her on as much as it was me. So I continued to talk about it, as she didn’t tell me not to.I figured that Pooja didn’t know my wife had told me about Praveen’s interests. So I told Pooja that I was. A panic attack is what the doctor said. How could I tell anyone that he was wrong, that it was the dark that did it to me. The noise that my flashlight made when it hit my door brought my mother to my room, and when she hit the switch to see what was going on, the light scared the dark away, and I was saved.Six months of psychological therapy showed me that my parents must really love me. After all, didn't they pay all that money to a therapist who in the end was convinced that I had been cured.