I don’t remember my first kiss. Well, not really. What I do remember is drinking everyone under the table at my friend’s apartment, then continuing to demonstratively drink until my liver said “нет, с меня хватит” as the party wound down thanks to collective drunken collapses. Fuzzily, I recall a small framed girl with long brown hair grabbing my face with both her hands and landing a long, surprisingly coordinated kiss on my lips followed by “fuck, he’s so out of it, isn’t he?” to someone else.
In a similar setup, I was once retrieving a bottle of booze I brought to a party to share it at an impromptu cognac tasting being organized on a deck. To do this, I had to awkwardly slide past a guy making out with the hostess and her friend. As I completed the maneuver and tried to make my way back, the hostess’ friend ensnared me in her arms, turned me around, and her lips collided with mine until she pushed me away into the hostess’ arms so she could do the same.
The most bizarre part of the night came when I picked up the hostess while it was her turn to make out with me, kissed down her neck, and planted a gentle peck on her cleavage. She suddenly blushed and said “thank you!” while averting her gaze. Later than night as I slept off the liquor and hot shower after a dip with her in a hot tub, I awoke to her and her friend growling in anger that my friend and fell asleep and wouldn’t wake up for sex. Unnerved by their fury, I pretended to stay asleep until I dozed off again.
The bottom line here is that my sex life was made of random makeouts and drunken hookups where my partners were not all that gentle with me and I was more or less expected to perform or face dissapointment or ire. If this happened nowadays, you’d probably assume I’d turn to YouTube and binge on incel ideology. But thankfully, the thought never entered my mind. I was shy. I was closed off. I rarely made friends. I was cordial and talkative, but people could sense when my social battery ran low and after avoiding any conversation where I tell anything more than meaningless stock stories for a few hours, I’d run off and hide like an annoyed cat. Obviously, I thought, I’m doing something wrong.
This is in no small part why I ended up on adult dating sites. It was familiar. It was easy. It was, as ridiculous as it sounds, my comfort zone. There was no ambiguity. Be friendly, generate some polite chemistry, have sex, leave. And this is why I was completely unprepared when I started chatting with “Amy” one night. She did not provide or request nudes. She just wanted to talk in general, looking for guys close to her age and sharing the kind of innocuous photos one would expect from a senior portrait session. In no time, I found myself going on an actual date, not just to have random casual sex.
We met at a museum where she was waiting for me right on time in loose fitting but stylish clothes, a sly grin, her mischievous green eyes glowing under a mop of naturally red, curly hair. Casually making our way through the exhibits we switched between talking about the art and artifacts on display, and asking questions about each other. A few hours later, we ended up in a courtyard crisscrossed by walking paths flanked by statues. Sitting next to her on a bench, I asked her if she was enjoying herself. She said she was and leaned closer to me, holding my hand.
On a whim, I tried to give her a light peck on the cheek, hoping I was reading her signals correctly. I wasn’t. She turned so I missed her cheek and instead planted a kiss on her lips. She giggled and kissed me again. And again. I asked her what she wanted to do next.
“I don’t know, I live an hour away so I’m not super familiar with this area,” she replied.
Feeling a little stressed out, I suggested we make another date and meet in a part of town where I lived and could really show her around, then get a dinner and catch a movie. She agreed. After I walked her back to her car, she gently grabbed me for another kiss and told me she’d hold me to that second date as I mustered a nod. I had no idea what came over me. How could I handle going from a handshake to giving oral in the span of an hour but a typical date had me rattled?
Amy and I chatted throughout the week and met for our second date at the appointed time. She hugged and kissed me hello, and we left for a little tour and to get dinner, after which we pulled into the theater parking lot a little earlier than we expected. Amy leaned the passenger seat back and started stroking my arm. I leaned over to kiss her, letting the tip of my tongue play with the tip of hers. My hands ran up her body, stopping just under her breast.
“Do you want me to go further up?” I asked.
She nodded and soon my hand was cupping and playing with her breast as her kisses got more intense. My fingers made their way to the edge of her shirt and bra.
“May I?” I asked again.
“Yes. Please,” she breathed.
My hand quickly pulled her bare breast out of her clothes and almost instinctively I licked and sucked on her nipple. She shot towards me like she was struck by lightning, moaning. I broke off and recommended we go into the theater. She agreed and while we watched a terrible flick by design, to make fun of it later, her hand stayed on my thigh, occasionally reaching down to cup what was now a bulge. I responded in kind, feeling her body almost vibrate. She was incredibly sensitive and attuned to my touch. After the movie ended, we both decided it wasn’t time for the date to end.
“How do you feel about seeing my place?” I offered.
“Sure!” she happily agreed. “Lead the way!”
About 20 minutes later, we settled on a couch in my apartment and Amy immediately motioned me closer for a kiss. We started to make out, my hands now playing with her breasts freely. As they slipped down to her belt, she tried to encourage me to go further while her lips were still fused with mine. I undid her belt and she immediately slid her capris off, letting me slide my hand into her panties to play with her wet mound. After a few minutes, I disengaged, dropped down to my knees on the floor, and took off her panties with her help. My mouth was quickly on her quivering vulva, my tongue playing with her clit as she moaned and gasped.
“Ok, your turn,” she said, pushing me away.
Undoing my belt, she helped me drop my jeans and boxer briefs, and standing on all fours on the couch, started stroking my hard cock.
“I like it, it’s nice and big,” she flattered, and almost immediately took me in her mouth. She told me that while she only had sex once, she was a big fan of giving oral, and the way she used her tongue, applied a perfect amount of suction, and used her hand made it obvious that she wasn’t exaggerating. Her enthusiasm was genuine and I found myself grunting in appreciation. I pulled away from her while she still stoked me with her hand.
“But I want you to cum,” she pouted.
“Where?” I asked.
“I want you to cum in my mouth,” she insisted as if I just asked a question that should have been rhetorical.
“Are you sure?” I tried to confirm.
In response, she tried her best to deepthroat me and then went back to doing exactly what she was doing before. Gently, I took over the strokes from her to help her out. Counting off the minutes without buildup, I started to get nervous, then frustrated. A curvy, cute, 18 year old redhead college student was trying to suck my soul through my erection and was asking for cum! That’s a porn scenario! Why am I not exploding like a cumcano?! Just then, Amy started to moan and run her fingers up and down my body. Switching up my strokes as her tongue focused on the underside of my shaft started driving me to the edge.
“I… I’m gonna to cum,” I warned.
In response, she redoubled her efforts and very quickly I was past the point of no return. With a growl, I filled her mouth. She quickly swallowed it all and squeezed my cock for a few more drops that she quickly licked up. She rested her head on my chest as I caught my breath for a minute.
“Do you want to go further tonight?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “I do but I don’t know if I should.”
“Then let’s not go further,” I offered. She rested for a little while in just her shirt before leaving for her drive back, seemingly content with nothing more than my company. When we talked on cam the day before she was coming back to see me, she teased me with her freshly shaved pussy and told that while she knew it would probably sound crazy to me, she just wanted to spend every moment she could with me. She was right to an extent. Those words bounced around in my head until I heard her knock on my door that Saturday afternoon.
As soon as I opened the door, she jumped into my arms, showering me with long, slow, deep, passionate kisses. The look in her eyes was seared into my mind. Before I explain why, consider the following a free neurology lesson. When your mind remembers something, it’s really remembering the last time a replay of the stimulus was recalled because your mind does not have some sort of biochemical hard drive, it keeps your memories by rearranging neural pathways on top of those connected with the memory and keeping them around as long as you keep accessing it, or if the cleanup process overseen by glial cells during sleep doesn’t prune them and “update” the general map of these long term memories in the hippocampus.
This is why sometimes smells and sounds trigger random memories for you, and why you keep remembering things you swear you should have forgotten while recalling commercial jingles and Top 40 earworms because you keep hearing them everywhere you go, re-stimulating the same neurons. But it also means that over long stretches of time, memories for minute details become less and less reliable. With that disclaimer in mind, the way I remembered her looking at me wasn’t with lust. No, lust looks like wide-eyed hunger. This was a mix of delight and impatience, something I had never seen in a partner’s eyes before.
I let her bag drop and quickly directed her towards my bedroom, not that she needed much encouragement. Pushing her over on the bed, I climbed on top of her, kissing her lips, her face, her neck, playing with her breasts, and once again undoing her belt and throwing off her jeans to find nothing but an ideally smooth mound underneath. I let my tongue play with her swollen clit while working first one, then two fingers inside her to her great delight. As her breathing became labored, I focused on keeping up a robotic rhythm, watching her hand grab the sheets and feeling her body quake under my tongue until she let out a scream, her freckled cheeks burning red.
“Your turn!” she cheerfully said after she caught her breath and pushed me over.
Within moments, every stitch of clothing below my waist was gone as her hands roamed on my stomach under my shirt and her tongue worked the tip of my hard cock into her mouth. Her right hand cupped my balls and started playing with them. My eyes closed in enjoyment, and after a little while, one of my hands provided her some assistance until with a gasp, I filled her mouth with cum. She snuggled up to me and suddenly said “you don’t have to kiss me after I do that if you don’t want to.” I, of course, immediately responded by kissing her deeply, then catching myself.
“You also don’t have to kiss me after I go down on you,” I offered.
“But I like the taste,” she said into a pillow by my side, blushing.
“Oh really?” I teased.
We quickly cleaned up and got dressed for dinner. After a pleasant meal and a lot of very light and fun conversation, we were back at my place, Amy quickly retreated into the bathroom with her bag, telling me she had a surprise for me. Just as I got the bed properly ready, she emerged in white, babydoll negligee and a lacy thong. I quickly removed her out of both, finally admiring her fully naked body in one glance while stripping off my clothes to match, and dove to my knees, my mouth on her vulva, my tongue parting her pussy lips and lingering on her clit. Still sensitive she gasped and warned me she was going to fall. Sweeping her up and depositing her on the bed, I kept teasing her until she begged for me to be inside her. In response, I put on protection and flipped her on top of myself so she could be in control.
She eagerly positioned herself on top of me and started descending on my cock, swearing as it slid deeper and deeper inside her until it stopped halfway in. With panic in her eyes, she looked at me mouth agape.
“It’s… it’s not going in anymore,” she fretted. “It’s stuck! Holy shit that thing is huge!”
“Don’t worry,” I tried to soothe her. “I’m flattered but it’s not that big, we just need a different angle.”
My hands met hers and our fingers intertwined. Rocking my hips to bring her forward and moving my arms to rock her back, we established a slow rhythm. She was anxious. After all, it was only her second time being penetrated, so it was probably natural for her to tense up. I am above average but hardly monstrous in the endowment department, so unless her vagina was shallow enough to be a medical curiosity, it must be nerves. Slowly but surely, I fully slipped inside her as the rocking motion got her wetter and wetter.
Moving my hips from below, I helped her ride briefly until I saw she was enjoying herself, her eyes closed, her breathing deep and a little labored, quiet sighs escaping her lips. I gently flipped her onto her back, put a pillow under her ass, and reentered her, propping her ankles on my shoulders, my hands playing with her breasts. In no time at all, she was moaning and thrashing and I felt her tight pussy convulse as she screamed in orgasm. Letting her legs down so I could be closer to her, I kept my strokes at a steady pace and in what felt like five or six minutes had her loudly cumming again, her back arching.
Pretty much anything I tried seemed to work. Her body was so sensitive, and no matter how many times she came, she wanted more. Finally, I felt myself getting very close while having her bent over in doggy and with her encouragement, let loose all over her stomach and breasts. We finally took a break and went for another round. Then after one more break, a third, by which point my neighbor demonstratively turned up his TV to drown us out. We took it as a signal that maybe, it was enough for the night. As we lay exhausted, about to drift off to sleep, she told me she had an idea.
“What is it?” I asked, half-conscious.
“We need to do that with my roommate,” she purred. “I really want to do her someday soon and she says she’d really want another guy to be there too.”
“Ow!” I yelped after a short pause.
“What?”
“Just checking if I’m dreaming.”
She giggled and finally dozed off. I woke up the next morning to her stroking me slowly and carefully, then noticing that I was waking up, faster and firmer. As my eyes opened, she wrapped her mouth around my tip and went to work. After writhing in pleasure for a few minutes, I flipped her over and after a little play wrestling and a pause to put on a condom, slipped inside her. An hour of playtime later, we showered together and hung out a little while longer before she set off for home, unhappy that we couldn’t spend more time together.
The next time I saw her was nowhere near as fun. She was upset about how little time we spent and how much I focused on my work at the exclusion of everything else. Not used to anyone actually wanting to spend time with me, convinced of this after being rejected — very politely and apologetically, bust still rejected — by a woman with who I thought I was developing real repor and chemistry just months before, and stewing on her comment about wanting to spend every minute she could with me, I decided she was being unreasonably clingy and we should just end things.
And so, I shot down the first person to want a real relationship, to date me, who was happy just being by my side to return to the relative comfort of casual sex and random hookups to avoid confusing feelings and making choices about how to prioritize my time. It would take me three years of trial and error until I was able to make an actual relationship work, and realizing what I’ve done and where I went wrong with Amy was my first step.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/d7l99k/how_to_destroy_a_relationship_by_not_knowing