I [F] had sex with a [M] I met randomly on the metro.

For context, this story happened a few years ago. Thought it would be fun to write it out.

Was in Buenos Aires working on research for my thesis and had just wrapped up interviewing a few guys working in the local film industry. Had to get back home on the other side of the city, so opted to use the Metro (*SUBTE)* as opposed to my normal bus route.

We were about halfway down the line when a tall and fairly pale man with brown-reddish hair boarded the train and immediately leaned against the door. Being too worried about keeping an eye out for pickpockets, I did not pay too much attention to him at the time. However, the train was not departing and the announcement reminding passangers to not block the doorway blasted through the interior of the train. The man did not seem too bothered by the announcement and the irritated stares of other passengers was growing more and more apparent. I finally asked him if he could stop leaning on the door and if he understood the announcement, to which he replied that he did, considering he was from Buenos Aires.

He struck up a conversation, noting my foreign accent, and that turned into him asking what I was doing in Buenos Aires, how long I had been there, if I was enjoying it, etc. It turns out he was a telecommunications engineer and fairly amicable, despite his apparent disdain for respecting *SUBTE* etiquette. He then asked if I would be interested in grabbing a coffee if I didn’t have anything else to do, to which I gave it a moment of thought: foreign women in a foreign country with a strange man. I agreed, on the condition that I pick the place, to which he found no problem. Firing off a text to my roommate with my location and his name, it was a closed deal.

What was supposed to be a cheeky coffee turned into a spontaneous dinner as we spent hours talking, him touching my shoulder and my hand at random times during the conversation: always very gently and as though he were shy about it. His hands were large and rough, but they moved as though they were handling glass.

That ended in an invitation to a converted art gallery that was part of the underground culture of artists. I fired off another text to my roommate, for the sake of common sense, and then we were off. He had tentatively wrapped an arm around my shoulders and held me close, and I could feel the lightly toned plains of his chest and torso through his shirt. I shook it off, but it had caught my attention. Coming from a culture where these types of gestures and body language is normal, even I was surprised by how my body reacted to his hidden beneath his shirt.

We ended up sitting on the floor of the gallery, leaning against each other looking at a mural painted by a local artist, a cheap national beer split between us as we spoke quietly in the dimmly lit space. His body was warm and comforting and he was mindful and very sweet as I laid my head on his shoulder. His hand played with my hair in a very gentle way, stroking slowly as we quietly talked amongst ourselves in the sea of people.

He finally pressed a kiss against my cheek and the rough texture of his lips was enough for me to turn into the kiss; something that surprised both of us, but he relented and began to explore my mouth with his. His kisses were gentle and firm at the same time: a very masculine sort of sensation. I could feel my nipples hardening under my shirt, straining against my bra, and that familiar slow burn of arousal. His hands were much more confident as he slowly traced the juncture of my chest with my shoulder, nothing aggressive but it was curious and sensual.

Between leaving the exposition and arriving to his apartment, the wetness between my legs had grown unbearable as it soaked through my underwear and within seconds of entering his apartment, he was pressed against me and my hands were underneath his shirt, touching warm skin that I’ll never forget the feel of as his hands wandered down the curve of my back and brushed my arse.

Clothes dropped to the floor and were kicked aside, as his hands busied themselves with my breasts, torturing me as he ran his fingers under the curve of them, ghosting them over my aching nipples that were soon at the mercy of his mouth. My hands were enthralled with the expanses of muscles on his shoulders and back, my favourite parts of a man’s body, and I could feel my own wetness dripping down my thighs as he worked his mouth between my breasts and up towards my mouth where he returned to the firm yet suave insistence that I yield to him.

From there until slipping into his bed, our hands could never stop touching each other as we laid down on our sides, face to face, learning the dips of muscle and the shape of each others’ bodies. His cock was stiff as my hands reached down to gently stroke him as he held me close to me, a rugged whisper of me to please not stop whatever I was doing. His hand was planted firmly on my arse as he returned to exploring my body, pushing our chests together–I suppose out of determination to be as close as possible.

All I can remember from that point was him rising above me and kissing me, telling me how much he wanted me right then and there. As responsible young adults, I can recall hearing the foil of the rubber being opened as he moved away momentarily to put it on, but he was back soon enough.

Watching him move to slip his cock inside me slowly and in the most agonizing way is difficult to erase from my memory: he rubbed the tip against the lips of my pussy, teasing as he tested how my body shivered and reacted to him. At this point in my life I had only had sex a few times but it was apparent that this was going to be different from previous times. The thrill of sex for the first time with someone new, the thrill of being filled and that warm pressuring as my body adjusted to him was something that I craved and he was offering.

As his cock vanished inside me, I felt my body react as it stiffened momentarily, but he was patient, breathing heavily into my shoulder and murmuring nonsense in Spanish. The movement of my hips to edge him further into me, wanting him to fill me completely was enough to encourage him to begin that sinfully delicious thrusting in and out, driving both of us mental as we found a rhythm that worked for both, moaning and tangling our limbs together, desiring that need to fuck but be as close together as possible. Two complete strangers with just a few hours of history, racing towards that base instinct of achieving orgasm.

One of his hands pinned both of mine above my head as his mouth worked on my neck, his teeth grazing my skin as my mouth and lips found his ear so that he could hear the salacious noises that sex brings out from the deepest parts of our base animal instinct. The first signs of orgasm were strong as I felt my legs wrap around him and his strokes slowed and became much longer, drawing it out. It was extremely sexy as he told me how hot this was, how he loved my breasts and hips.

The orgasm was drawn out but powerful as my body trembled under his much bigger frame, my hands pressed into his back as I made noises I had never made before, cumming around his cock. His own orgasm followed shortly afterwards, his body tightening up as he released inside me, his groans and his hands reaching down to hold my hips in place, pinning me to the tangle of sheets and blankets. He would pull out of me shortly afterwards, depriving my body of that wonderful feeling of being filled, and rolled off of me as we both caught our breaths.

This man would later be one who taught me how to orgasm from certain touches, who would encourage me to embrace curves and feel confident, as well as swing like a pendulum between vigorous fucking and gentle, tender sex.

Unfortunately, I had to leave Argentina (and him) behind, but he’s always remembered as the man who also piqued my curiosity enough to break my rule of no sex on the first meeting.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/lcgzhz/i_f_had_sex_with_a_m_i_met_randomly_on_the_metro