My New Year’s Resolution: Give up Casual Sex. I broke it within 25 minutes. [FM]

Ah, New Year. What finer opportunity to decide on some optimistic yet arbitrary life goals that, unless you possess a will far stronger than my own, you’ll have long since given up on by the end of the month. A somewhat cynical viewpoint, I know. But given a mere year ago I found myself breaking my one and only resolution to supposedly ‘better’ myself within half an hour of the bells chiming, I feel cynicism is realistically my only option.

New Years Eve 2019. On the cusp of 2020 which, being as it is a lovely sounding number, was sure to be the year that would bring only wonderful things. A year of optimism. Of hope. of unparalleled success and opportunity. And, personally speaking, the year I had very much intended to, as the old parlance goes; ‘get my shit together’.

I’d spent a significant portion of 2019 in an excellent relationship and, if I may be immodest for a moment, having excellent sex. The sort that, while perhaps not as relentlessly thrilling as with new and unknown partners, includes all the benefits of someone who understands your likes and dislikes, and who is more than comfortable playing to their strengths, and allows you to play to your own too.

But, as with everything in life, entropy had kicked in and as the year progressed we found ourselves growing apart and, ultimately, breaking up at the beginning of October. It very much needed to happen. No sour grapes on either end. Just one of those things, plenty more fish in the sea, etc.

Now, in the face of a significant breakup, you traditionally have a few default options as to how to behave; Wallow in solace, eventually relying on friends to stroke your hair and say wonderful things about you until you decide to despair no more. Get back on the horse and put yourself out there – no time like the present. Or *rebound* and make the most of being single for a while. Similar to putting yourself back out there but with the notable difference of not doing it to be tied down, but to simply enjoy the freedom that singledom provides.

Guess which option I took?

From the month of October 2019 through till Christmas 2019 I adopted a philosophy which can be best described as likening casual sex to a buffet – a veritable smorgasbord of near infinite snacking, without ever settling for a single meal. I was free to nibble from wherever and whatever I fancied on any given day and with no obligation to sample again. Though the particularly tasty options were naturally available for seconds, thirds, and on two notable occasions, fourths.

In short, I was making something of a glutton of myself – albeit having a truly wonderful time doing it – and, come Christmas, if you’ll forgive the pun, I’d found myself well and truly stuffed. Which was why I came to a startling decision. 2020 was going to be different. I’d had my fun, but now it was time to look for something serious again. And to aide myself to do it, I made a resolution.

My New Year’s Resolution for 2020 was to give up casual sex.

Let’s now skip ahead to New Year’s Eve 2019, where I find myself with friends at a party. It was a houseparty, principally because a large portion of us are horrendous cheapskates and utterly unwilling to spend the stupid money on hyper inflated prices to actually ‘go out’ to celebrate the dawning of a new year, but also because we’re all still tremendously childish at heart and house parties very much capture the spirit of our student days.

As a measure of how seriously I was intending to take my New Year’s resolution, I’d come dressed surprisingly modestly; no HIAATAMT dress for me. (For the uninitiated this is a ‘Hi I’m Alice And These Are My Tits’ dress – the type I usually wear when I’m looking to catch the eye). Instead I was in a long and, dare I say it, somewhat classy (by my standards) little sleeveless number, featuring only the teensiest morsel of cleavage. One friend was so surprised to see me looking so ‘overdressed’ (at least in comparison to the previous few months) that they commented I ‘was clearly a stranger in disguise, and only wearing the skin of his last victim.’ Yes, I know. I have the very best friends.

The party began, alcohol flowed, and a very merry time was had by all. As midnight began to approach the strategist in me took over and I started to manoeuvre myself so as to be beside someone worthwhile when the bells tolled and the tradition of a New Year’s kiss kicked in.

I’d already selected my target. I wasn’t sure who Josh was in relation to anyone I knew at the party, but I’d spent some time chatting to him earlier in the evening and he seemed good company. And, more importantly, he had an excellent face. Certainly one I’d be happy to be the first thing I’d see as I celebrated a New Year.

Target found, I made my intentions clear. He seemed delighted at the prospect. Everything was going perfectly.

We counted down towards midnight, and I looked forward to a more sensible and optimistic year. A year in which, cynicism be damned, I’d actually stick to my goals and succeed.

The clock struck twelve. 2020 had arrived. Josh pulled me in for a kiss.

Pulled me in. Blimey. That was more direct than I’d expected. I’d clearly chosen well.

Our lips touched. And then remained. This was no peck. They very much stayed together. He had his arms fully around me and there was small but notable pressure on the small of my back. He was holding me in this kiss. It felt good. I quietly congratulated myself on having picked a decisive guy for a change.

Hang on. Why do my lips feel wet? Oh, that’s his tongue attempting to burrow between them, sliding inside to meet with my own. That’s bold of him. He clearly takes this New year kiss thing seriously. I’d better reciprocate.

The kiss by now had switched from being a momentary thing to something that had clearly lasted a few seconds. I knew this primarily because I could already hear that those who weren’t similarly still entwined had begun singing ‘Auld Lang Syne’ loudly and off key in a manner that can only ever be captured at 12:01 New Year’s Day.

I was about to break away and join in for the rousing chorus when, hello, his hand moved. His tongue was still caressing my own, and now his hand had slipped from the small of my back to be rested squarely upon my arse.

I say rested. This is inaccurate. It was *squeezing*. Very vigorously squeezing. I squeezed back. Reciprocate in kind, and all that.

We were still kissing. I feel we may have been for several minutes as Auld Lang Syne was drawing to a close, and I was feeling a new sensation. A poking sensation. Something firm had distinctly appeared and was pressing into my abdomen. It was clear something of Josh had been awoken by the dawning of the New Year. Either that or the kissing the squeezing.

I decided to stop grasping his arse and give the new arrival a little squeeze instead. Something that both the new arrival and Josh seemed equally thrilled by.

He finally disengaged from the kiss. ‘Shall we go somewhere?’ he asked, somewhat breathlessly.

Now the Alice of 2019 wouldn’t have even answered the question. She’d have grabbed him by the hand – or potentially even by the New Arrival if she’d felt so inclined – and led him wordlessly to a bedroom wherein which they’d have fucked each other until satisfied, possibly twice over, and returned to the party some time later with knowing smiles on their faces.

But that was the old Alice. I was now the new and improved Alice. The Alice with goals she was going to achieve. The Alice who, if she had even a modicum of willpower, would have politely declined. But damn it his face was excellent. And the kissing was good. And his boldness was definitely worthy of applause. And judging by what I’d felt poking my abdomen, his new arrival was probably worth seeing. And did I mention his lovely face?

Screw it, I thought to myself. He’s given me a lovely start to the New Year. I’ll give him a blowjob. That doesn’t technically break any rules…

It transpired the bedrooms were occupied. Not by copulating couples, but by partygoers simply making the most of the space. Unperturbed we tried the bathroom only to find there was already a queue to use the facilities. And I can’t speak for Josh but I very much felt that if the momentum dropped then our eagerness might equally diminish. This was an action and passion of the moment, not exactly something we could allow to go off the boil.

Instead we headed out of the flat and into the corridors of the apartment complex. The building had formerly been a mill, I think, and as such the interior was something of a maze of corridors, built apparently by an architect with a spirograph, keen to find every potential space in the interior for another dwelling.

Which is a long way around saying there were several hallways which, once past the entrance to flat, continued but only toward a slightly out of the way and pointless dead end. It took us so little time to locate one of these pockets of privacy I could well believe Josh had utilised them before.

On arrival I immediately moved to get on me knees; my objective, in my mind at least, perfectly clear. But Josh stopped me. Instead he knelt slightly and lifted my long dress to my waist, and slipped his hand into my underwear.

He kissed me again as be began to stroke vigorously on my clit. I’d clearly been more turned on by the kissing and the squeezing than I’d realised, and already his touches were feeling surprisingly tingly. At some stage he broke off the kiss to ask me how I was feeling. For one of the few times in my life I didn’t find myself capable of formulating an answer.

However, the very brief pause galvanised me. I’d made a decision and as wonderful as this was feeling I was damned if I would break my resolution a mere fifteen minutes into the New Year. I broke away from the kiss and told him with all the authority I could muster that it was my turn, and I attempted to move his hand away from my clit so I could get on knees.

Instead, he plunged his fingers into me. I gasped, probably a little too loudly. He silenced me immediately by kissing me again as his fingers began rapidly sliding in and out of my, his thumb somehow maintain contact with my clit throughout.

I’m a little embarrassed how quickly my first orgasm of 2020 materialised. I can offer no excuse other than to say Josh’s fingers were magic and his face really was excellent.

But, in my mind at least, this was a casual fingering. Not casual sex. My resolution still stood. Now all I had to do was blow him to say thank you, and everyone leaves fulfilled.

I was thinking that very thought – albeit mixed together with the euphoric high of an orgasm comedown – when I realised my plan had been foiled.

Because Josh had just put his cock in me.

I’m not entirely sure how exactly I missed him unleashing the beast and assuming the position, other than to say I perhaps really was powerless to drag my eyes away from his heavenly face. I was also somewhat taken by surprise as normally I’d have spent some time reciprocating with hands and mouth before I’d find someone inside me. But this was all unnecessary for Josh who had clearly been as excited by the attention he’d been giving to me as I’d been receiving it.

And now he was inside me. My resolution had been broken within the first half hour of the New Year.

So fuck it, I thought. Might as well enjoy myself.

I swivelled around, bending myself over the window ledge and told him in no uncertain terms to give me everything he had.

He obliged, grabbing hold of my hips, and fucking me with all the enthusiasm of the dawning of a new decade.

His fucking skills lacked the precision of his dangerously effective fingering, not least because once he’d established a rhythm he reached round and continued with the clit play. This, combined with the fact I was still largely on the comedown from the first orgasm, mean the second wasn’t slow to follow.

His rhythm didn’t even falter.

As his breathing started to turn shallow I looked back and asked him where he’d most like to finish. I did worry for a moment he was going to suggest inside which, though I wasn’t really in much of a position to say no, did fill me with the dread of having to walk the awkward drippy waddle all the way back through the corridors to the flat. Mercifully, instead, he gave me the option to choose.

I instructed him to tell me when he was close which, it transpired, was less than a minute later. I slid off his cock and did what I’d been intending to do since midnight. Got on my knees and took him in my mouth.

I matched the vigour of the blowjob to the vigorous pace of the sex so as not to slow his momentum. I needn’t have worried. Almost the moment his cock hit my tongue he erupted. Shot after shot of cum filling my mouth as I held his cock between my lips, lashing at the tip with my tongue.

I swallowed the cum and gave his cock a quick tongue bath to clean him up, before getting off my knees and pulling up my own underwear.

“We’ll head back to the party, say our goodbyes and then head back to mine.” I said in a tone that made it clear he’d be unwise to decline. “I’m one up on you and there’s no fucking way I’m starting a brand new year in debt!”

We repeated the exercise when we returned to mine. And then again the following morning.

Twice.

For a moment I thought I might not technically have broken my resolution, as I could now see myself dating this man. Which was when I discovered the reason I’d never met him before was that he was a friend of a friend and lives at the near enough the other damned end of the country.

We fucked again to make up for the disappointment.

So screw New Years Resolutions. Literally.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/ksnep4/my_new_years_resolution_give_up_casual_sex_i