A New Year’s story: The first time I ever made love as opposed to just having sex [MF] (We fell in love online – agreed to one-off meeting, then never contact again)

This isn’t just a rant about great sex; it’s a true story about the only time I ever truly ‘made love’. Like everyone, I enjoy sex that’s quick and cool and purely physical, but this wasn’t that. If you want to skip ahead to where it gets really hot and explicit, you can scroll to the line break, but I think the emotional weight of the situation is important too, so I’ll just quickly mention that our relationship began online and became as profound as any love I’ve ever had. But it was also impossible – we were worlds apart, caught in the wrong time and place, and our need for each other began affecting every aspect of our ‘real lives’ so deeply that we had to do something – anything. So, we agreed that we would finally meet up. Just once. Then, whatever happened, we’d make a resolution to say goodbye forever.

It started when she commented on one of my Reddit posts, and I clicked on her profile and became intrigued by her. The topic was fun and erotic, and we had a quick chat about our fantasies. We were both in complicated relationships but that was irrelevant. Whether we’d been completely happy coupled-up, or single, or going through break-ups, neither of us was looking for a relationship – much less something online. We were total strangers anyway, not even from the same country, so we figured there was no harm in exchanging a few messages, right? It was so anonymous and safe that we even swapped some face-blanked underwear shots to tease each other. They were less explicit than what a lot of people wear on a public beach in France or post on their public dating profiles. It felt safe and kind of wholesome in a way that a looking at porn wasn’t. Like, at least we were fantasizing about a real person rather than some plastic porn star, right?

She’d heard my voice through the subreddit and told me how much she loved my accent so on the next afternoon when I was bored, I uploaded her a dirty-talk audio message about how much I enjoyed her pictures. She loved it and replied by sending me a voice-message: part sexy and part just everyday stuff.

I wasn’t prepared for how incredibly intimate it was to hear her voice for the first time. She had the most gorgeous husky intonations which excited parts of my brain I didn’t know existed, and the way her mind moved from idea to idea was intensely beautiful – like a stone skimming across water, just touching the surface of her personality, then hitting a bit deeper and revealing more. She talked about a song which perfectly described how I was feeling: wishing for a time in which everything was still to be discovered – of wanting to know her and wanting to be known.

And then, fuck. Serendipity, chance, fate – whatever it is – hit us. We discovered we had everything important in common: our age, our living situations, past relationships, down to our music likes, taste in decor, work interests, humor. And more than that – a state of mind and being. We found ourselves sending countless chat messages and emails and voice messages. We shared favorite poems and quotes, experiences, attitudes, playlists, feelings, fantasies, and more photographs: of ourselves, our cities, our homes, our bodies. Eventually, we’d both let so much personal information slip that we both confessed we’d Googled and found out each other’s full names and workplaces and faces and locations.

It could have ended here. We maybe even assumed it would – that seeing each other’s ‘real lives’ would break our fantasies or we’d find each other unattractive?

It didn’t. We only fell for each other more. But still, we knew we were taking an impossible road. Our relationships, families, careers, friendships, homes, lives – everything we’d built was at stake. In another dimension – another time and space – we might have been able to continue. But we knew at this point in time it would drive us crazy. We had to end it. So, we said a painful goodbye and agreed not to talk anymore.

Our silence just made our longing worse. Her voice, face, her personality, her humour – everything about her was already imprinted on me. A few days later, our communication came back with a vengeance. We acknowledged our feelings for each other. We sent more text, photos, voice-messages, emails. We walked each other around our neighborhoods in Google Street View. We were always checking our phones – anxious when we couldn’t talk for even a half a day. We had sleepless nights, waiting for a reply or chat. We lost our appetites, lost weight. I was isolating myself to find time to message to her. I could barely function around the house or hold a conversation with friends. She became so fragile that she got prescribed for anti-anxiety medication and took time off work.

We tried again to tear ourselves apart again. And then again, and again. Months passed and her love became as important to me as any ‘real-life’ relationship. Every time we failed to let go, it just became harder, until we had no ideas left. That’s when I said maybe we should just meet once. Maybe seeing each other in the flesh would help us to release all the tension we’d built up. If we could just spend a night together, we could get it all out of our system. It would be a worthy end.

So, we agreed. We would meet for one night and no matter what happened we’d never see each other or talk or message again.

As it happened my sister had just moved to the same European city as her parents lived. So, we both arranged visits for New Year’s Eve.

We flew there. We visited them. We both left early. And just before midnight I went to her hotel room.

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If you’ve even seen the emotional release of an adopted kid meeting their birth-parent for the first time, or the parent of a deaf child who has just received implants and heard their voice for the first time, you’ll know what I’m trying to describe.

Before I could even finish knocking on door of the hotel room, she’d opened it and was pulling me inside. What came next was a total explosion of emotion: love, pining, joy, sadness, lust. It was the fiercest kiss I’ve ever had in my life. We didn’t care that we were hurting each other, crushing our faces together, clashing teeth, accidentally biting each other’s lips. It was like we were almost angry at each other for withholding ourselves for this long, for torturing each other with our estrangement.

We were fighting but also melting into each other. I was weak at the knees, and she was so limp that if I wasn’t holding her up, she would’ve just fallen to the floor. It was like we were angry and weak with relief at the same time. We kissed until we were suffocating and when we finally broke away for air, we began roughly stripping off – each other and ourselves – our coats falling to the floor, then everything else – tearing down zippers and trampling clothes into the floor, pulling buttons so hard they hung limp off strands of thread, etching little fingernail scratches into our skin and leaving red marks and burns from the pulled fabric and belt-buckles.

As the clothing fell away, our hands were constantly roaming over each other’s bodies. It was like were roughly searching for something, like we had the meaning of life inked somewhere on our skin, or we were frantically strip-searching each other for some jewel of infinite value. I walked her backwards toward the bed, my hands tugging roughly at her bra – peeling up the night sky of little moons and stars embroidered on it, while her hands searched over my shoulders and down my arms, pulling away my shirt. Then I impatiently picked her up, carried her and dropped her onto the mattress with a little bounce, tugging at her knickers a little too hard so they tore a little as I pulled them down her legs. I was so hard already that she couldn’t yank my boxers down on the first attempt. On the second, she succeeded by lifting one foot to pull on them with her toe, then using the other foot to drag them down.

I remember it was lightly raining outside. The hotel room was pretty dark, except for a small wall-light dimmed on the far side of the room, and the streetlight coming in from outside which was refracting the rain droplets running down the windows. Shadow-drops of water were running down our bodies: across my shoulders and chest, over her neck and breasts, down to where our bodies meet in the shadows. Her skin, when I touched it, became like the raindrops on the windows, goose-bumps running wild all over her.

I don’t remember many other details because the world had ceased to exist and she was everything. We were kissing like we were trying to extract some valuable essence from each other, our mouths not wanting to let anything go to waste –devouring each other from our lips to our cheeks, our ears down to our necks, our shoulders, my chest, her breasts, still a little roughly, like we wanted to hurt each other as much as we wanted to pleasure each other.

Because I’d only seen her naked only in photographs, her body had taken on a sort of mythical quality and seeing her in the flesh was intense. It was like my body was star-struck with hers. But we knew each other on a deeper level too and very soon it was like our movements were being orchestrated from some higher realm. Like we were remembering the movements to a dance we’d learned before we were born, and they were all coming back to us. We fell into a rhythm – hitting the right places at the right angles, sensing each other’s speed, connecting intuitively.

It wasn’t soft and gentle though – it was more like a Japanese kata, a choreographed fight – graceful, but also violent and furious. I hated her because I loved her, and because life had forced her to hold herself back from me and because it would take her away again. But I loved her because she accepted that I was in the same position and I could only give what I could. All we could do was search each other, and that meant breaking each other apart to take what we could, before we withdrew again.

We had mentally teased each other with foreplay for months, and neither of us wanted or needed it now. I could tell from the urgency of her touches that she wanted to feel everything from me and of me in that moment, right away. I didn’t care if her body was ready for me to go inside her either. I would push myself straight into her.

She was high on the bed against the headboard, so I grabbed her legs to pull her down to the edge of the bed. But she fought me. She held onto the bars of the headboard, like she was torn between just letting me fuck her and fighting me for a while to vent her own frustration. I grabbed one of her arms – perhaps a little too hard – pinning it to the bed and she thumped me on the side with the soft underside of her fist. Then I grabbed her face hard, and I saw a little challenge rising in her. She swore at me and I swore back. We began to tussle again: sucking and biting each other’s ears and lips and necks and nipples, pulling at each other’s hair and arms. She was strong and quick and savvy, and her resistance excited me in a way I’d never experienced. It was so intense that I barely noticed my cock rubbing against her, slowly readying her body to be entered – not until she was completely wet and we both felt it suddenly slip into her folds and wedge against the entrance to her pussy.

At that point, we both stopped fighting and just stared at each other, sucking in air. I took the opportunity to grab one of her hands and pin it to pillow above her head. I pulled away from her too and lifted my cock so it was lying on top of her pubic bone, lining her up from her clit to her bellybutton, showing her how long I was and how far I was going to go inside her. She looked down at it, then up at me, then down at it again, then spread her legs as wide as she could and opened herself to me, daring me to go in.

At that point, I knew how intense it would be having sex face-to-face with her so I thought of flipping her over. But something made me stay. It was like I was paralyzed with my love for her. She lifted her hips, knocking my cock back down between her legs, then squirmed against it until she had me lined up. Then I leaned into her and the tip of my cock parted her pussy lips and slid down against her opening.

I eased in with one long motion, until I was buried inside her. Holding her hand above her head, I began moving slowly in her, painfully slowly. She was holding my waist with her other hand, taking me in, containing me, then pushing against me, gliding away, until we were almost separated, then, at the last moment, pulling me back in and enclosing me again. I could feel the sensation of her hard nipples rubbing against my chest as I moved, and our eyes were fixed on each other, pleading for something we couldn’t explain. And every time we moved together we were silently begging each other for more.

She was automatically breathing out every time I fucked into her. And with every thrust her breathing and moaning got louder and louder until she grabbed my free hand and put it over her mouth and held it there. I leant forward next to her, letting her draw in air through my fingers but not allowing her to make a sound. We made love like that, moving harder and deeper with every beat. I thought about taking her hand and putting her fingers on her clit, but by then I was hitting my hips so hard into her inner thighs that I would break her fingers if she tried to touch herself. She didn’t need to anyway. The vibrations of my pelvis were shuddering through her and teasing the little fold of skin up and down over her clit, and my cock was riding so high up inside her that the shaft was massaging her most sensitive spot, while the head was gently meeting her cervix, those two parts coming together like they were kissing inside of her.

Soon our orgasm was building like a tiny whirlwind growing inside us, and then it was a small up-draft, and soon it was like a rotating column of wind, growing bigger and bigger, expanding around us like the epicentre of a storm, then totally enveloping us.

I took my hand off her mouth to kiss her. All I could hear was my pulse throbbing in my ears, and all I could see and feel was her. In that moment, she was everything. Together, we were being swallowed by the storm, holding onto each other like it was life and death, absorbing each other’s moans in our kisses. Her hands were subconsciously flapping against the bedsheets, then grabbing the small of my back, gripping my skin. Then the storm overtook us and we disappeared into it, our minds going blank as it tore us into tiny pieces and reassembled us as one chaotic entity – writhing and groaning and orgasming and letting go of ourselves completely, giving everything to one another: her pussy clenching my cock as if it would never let go, and my cum was literally thumping out of me – deeper and deeper into her with every pulse.

That moment seemed to last for an eternity, but not long enough. As it began to subside, I realised she was just riding the storm of her orgasm a little bit longer while I was still inside her, so I kept moving against her as our orgasms drifted away, like a wind dying down to just a few small gusts, then to a little breeze.

As we returned to the stillness, tears begin to form in her eyes, then mine. We lay side by side, forehead to forehead, holding hands and listening to the fireworks and celebrations in the city. We knew deep down that it would be the last time we’d see each other, and we’d never experience sex like this ever again in our lives. But it was enough for us to have experienced it once, so there were tears of joy in the pain too.

We knew that wherever the world took us, every holiday when they sing Auld Lang Syne, we’d thinking of each other, full of a happy-sad longing.

And that’s how it will be tonight.

So, wherever you are, babe, and whatever you’re doing – just remember a part of me is always yours.

And Happy New Year, you sexy readers of Reddit.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/knwl7e/a_new_years_story_the_first_time_i_ever_made_love