Waited for 1 yr in horny jail until I F29 could finally touch my crush M29, [FM] leading to cunnilingus so good that it fried my brain and I lost all feeling in my hands

Big time lurker on this page, but wanted to share the story of how COVID blew up my relationship (FF) and enabled a year of long distance lusting after my friend (M).

You are welcome to skip the setup to the fun by jumping right down to the city of “**Boobopolis**.” Sorry-not-sorry about the intro, I feel the need to set the scene.

I am an extrovert living in an East Coast US city. In 2020, I was 28 and had somehow only ever dated one other partner of my kind. For whatever reason, I always ended up finding partners that were very very very introverted to commit. But this was not for lack of trying on my part. I was curious about being with someone that would match my energy and be enthusiastic to be around PEOPLE. I once fell for a very attractive standup comedian, but alas, the bravado was for the stage and they too were drained by big groups, spending time with strangers, and answering phone calls. When the pandemic hit, I was in love but insecure with another woman (28) that lived a 20 minute drive away in another state (neither of us drove/had cars, and March 2020 was NOT a time to risk public transport). I biked to her once, but even that was risky because we were concerned about exposing her parents. A month later, we agreed that we weren’t supporting each other through the mental pressures of the COVID world. We broke up.

COVID-related breakups are tough, quarantine I know is tough! As an extrovert, I’m just not built for it! Luckily, I had so much support that DID work for me, from friends. This includes friends that were much much farther away than my girlfriend at the time. And when those virtual/digital relationships were so fulfilling, it made me realize it was time to let this go, instead of force something with a person I really cared about. One friendship particularly had me floored by the ease… the randomness and the challenge in our quarantined communications.

He was an old friend of one of my best friends. Met him a few times, and, yeah… I had noticed that he was suuuper physically attractive. He has these dimples, that go with an incredible smile. And he laughs so genuinely. He is also crazy smart. I thought he was very flirty and fun, but I never made a move. The handful of times I met him (like my friend’s engagement party) I was in a relationship with someone else. Anyway, I already knew I had a physical attraction to him. But I loved how extroverted he was and how motivated he was to build strong friendships.

This poor dude had received THE extrovert death sentence of 2020: quarantine alone in an empty apartment (he had been about to move out with work, and then had to retreat to his rental without an opportunity to get anything from storage). He was stuck away from family and most friends in the middle of the country. He was handling the quarantine very stoically and with good humor, but a few of us decided to take it upon ourselves to keep checking in on him and keep him entertained.

And… wow. It felt so good to talk to him. It felt like we could literally end up talking about anything, and these early pandemic connections emphasized how much my romantic relationship wasn’t working out. For instance I had challenged him to come up with the top memes for his revolutionary heroes. That somehow ended up with a debate on what would make Plato twerk and were there any furries in the antiquities… (Turns out, no: Furries are born from the 1980’s convention movement, thanks to the abundance of synthetic fur suits, a fact which, having Googled Ancient Egyptian temples, I really strongly dispute).

I laughed so much with him… and also, sometimes, yeah… our conversations got steamy. Sometimes they got real, but still, we were friends.

Things I knew about my crush that made it very tricky:

1. He lived very far (culturally and geographically) from my east coast city.

2. He is very dear to my best friend.

3. He is JUST a flirty dude, very confident, suave, comfortable with himself. He is such a people person.

So basically, I knew, it was a relationship I shouldn’t pursue and most importantly, a friendship I shouldn’t fuck up. I didn’t want to make things weird for our friend in common, I think long distance is a terrible idea in general, and, also… in my mind, there was a 97% chance that he was JUST BEING FRIENDLY. As an extrovert myself, I’d been in the position of offering someone my earnest friendship, and them being very upset that it wasn’t romantic – and it hurts a big bit to have your platonic relationship shut down by someone. When people have brought up the “friendzone” to me, it just made me feel really sad that my friendship wasn’t wanted or worthwhile. No way was I gonna do that to this guy.

So.. what to do with my crush? I decided I should become even BETTER friends with him. I was gonna friend him *so0o0o hard.*

I started listening to his podcast, texting often. I talked him into watching a movie with me virtually. He had never seen one of my favorites, so we did the syncing and dealt with the wobbly internet connection, and spent like 3 hours online, watching and joking. I really liked the virtual facetime, and wanted more.

Even when he was out of his full-on quarantine and he got a roommate, we were both pretty restricted and I knew he had time that I could intrude on.

That summer (2020), he had turned one of my early pandemic prompts/games into a podcast episode. I am a super high-context communicator and all the Jane Austen I had ingested so far told me that I needed to analyze this media for any outburst of passion or declaration. I listened to it keenly for shoutouts, or some sort of… idk… hint? As if he would suddenly go off script and go gushing about how clever and awesome I was. He did not, though I was briefly credited as a “listener of the show.”

I was discouraged.

But also excited. Here it was: another bridge I could cross, another excuse to reach out to him. Maybe I should’ve texted. I don’t know what possessed me, but I called him. With no warning. Yeah, I can be a pretty bad millennial sometimes. It was not awkward, it was really fun, and it felt so good to banter and hear him, and… I just thought he was so clever, okay. And we were getting a little vulnerable, sharing some feelings (about music, not each other, duh!). We were talking about music he had used in the podcast, and even when we hung up, he kept texting. He made me laugh a lot, and he also told me about a Britney Spears music video that was instrumental to his sexual awakening. That song felt very… un-woke? (Slave 4 u). But.. Well, I admitted to him, it was indeed very very sexual. And it kind of hints at some sort of water crisis. From here on, we found ways to hear each other’s voice more often, sending recordings of our musings and ideas.

I started lurking on r/longdistance. I came up with virtual game nights for the friends we had in common, for a whole “CLUB” that met every other week that was literally just me and him. At this point, our friend in common had caught on and she + her husband teased me a lot about my virtual “dates.”

But the more I was in contact with him, the more I thought I was wrong. Sometimes, his messages were underlining and OVERLINING (highlighting?) his gratitude for my friendship. AND I knew there was another woman he talked to even more than me – another remote friend. Or “friend.” So many other friends had to listen to me spin out about the does-he-doesn’t-he of the whole situation. It felt nuts.

Sometime after the New Year. I just told him. Twas nerve-wracking. I even wrote on a post-it note a bailout topic to bring up, in case I just couldn’t tell him. The whole thing was mortifying. He was really set that he didn’t see us as an option unfortunately because of the long distance. But he never actually said how he felt about me.

The friendship and constant communication continued but I was at a bit of a disadvantage. Felt to me like he knew how I felt but he got to keep all his cards to himself. He promised to write me a letter to spell out how he feels.

I imagined… smut. Passion. Something keenly entwining both.

But I just waited and waited. He had stuff come up, and then I just bugged him for his answer. He said he was just about to send. And then he had some sort of mysterious all-night bender/adventure with his friends, the details of which I was informed much later — but to me it felt like this dude just straight-up died. He had fallen off the face of the world tragically ahead of sending me an email of his feelings for me. I was… 10 different types of frustrated.

When he finally sent it… well. Let’s just say Elizabeth Bennett-Darcy would have sympathized with me. She would have hugged me, let me smell her hair a bit maybe, and told me with all honesty that ‘yes, this response is far, far more disappointing than when Mr. Darcy first made his intentions known.’ iykyk

But there was no literary heroine to comfort me. I was fuming. And I rattled off something very snooty and eloquent, asking him to just fucking call me that night. It was a doozy, and we untangled that 1) he did feel attracted to me, and he claims he would have definitely asked me out if it wasn’t for the long distance; 2) he had wrongly assumed I sought a monogamous long-distance relationship.

But also, I will say, in his defense, he thought the whole time it was abundantly clear TO ME that he really really liked me. He kept saying that if we lived in the same place, he would have totally made the first move. But, suffice to say, I’m the main character here. I make the first moves.

At this point, it’s on! I’m being fairly useless in my day-to-day, hardcore-pining for this man. He sent me a video with his shirt off and it froze my brain, my friend had to reboot me with coffee. I made all these plans to meet him, and I just could not wait for the day to get closer. I could work remote. And visit for like.. A month. Just have a month-long first date. After all my dreaming and fantasizing… the heightened flirting was almost cruel.

Some of it was quite sexy – we were both touching ourselves, sometimes sharing snaps, though they were pretty tame. Sometimes it was very matter of fact discussions – we’d established that we could have sex without condoms.

A bit about us physically, cuz we’re about to get to the action: At this point I’m 29, pretty pale, average build, descended from the Caucuses, C-cups, shoulder length dark hair that was bleached fun colors during the pandemic and hazel eyes. The dude in question is also 29 and very fit. His arms. I.. I have drooled over a casual video of him playing piano because his arms. As I was saying, he is South Asian, black hair kept pretty short but I know from pics in his youth it curls like crazy, and dark brown eyes that sparkle a bunch – it says so on his *driver’s license*. EYES: BRO-W-SPARKLE.

Preparing to get there: I am team no-bra. Almost on instinct, for my own comfort. But, this time I made the choice less due to my own comfort and more in an attempt to seduce. I flew across the country in a giant sweater, t-shirt and no bra, assuming I would have time to freshen up a bit in the airport bathroom and that when he did finally reach BoobTown.. or **Boobopolis**, he’d be all surprised to be able to just touch me.

Fast forward to finally landing in his state. Sexual tension is at an all high mark! I’ve waited a year for this meeting!

As a plotter, I thought a lot of what I would do when I see him. Kiss him, obviously. Just like… leap at him. Preferably outside where we can lower our facemasks. Duh.

He messaged me that he would be picking me up outside — I thought, sure, I can still leap across to the driver’s side seat and kiss him. Just felt like… 1) if I go straight for the kiss, it will set the whole tone of this trip! 2) this has been building up too much, I need to kiss him. 3) what the fuck else will we do. Just awkwardly drive back to his place?

He rolled up, all smiles and dimples — reached over the passenger side to open the door. And all of my careful planning sort of melted away. I don’t remember if I high-fived him or awkward hugged him… but it was not the stuff of romance movies. We both agreed that we couldn’t believe THIS was finally happening.

When we got here, he took me on an apartment tour, left my luggage in the hall, showing me the balcony with his view of the city. He had just moved in so some stuff was still boxed, but it was very cute to see how excited he was about his neighborhood, and his place looked veryyy adult (aka not fully-thrifted). But then, we flitted from his kitchen island for some food, to his couches, to the books and records on his TV stand… to.. Idk the tour of the one living room was fucking endless. I felt like we were just talking to talk, which is nice – he is so easy to talk to – but… damn, I didn’t want to talk at that point.

Finally, the bastard admitted he was totally fucking with me, trying to see how long he could make the awkwardness last. We laughed, I swatted at him, and then, idk, I guess my hand was already on his thigh. I remember my heart beating really fast as in ‘it’s happening!’ I think he asked to kiss me, somehow serious despite all the laughter that was still in our throats. And I tried to breathe in quickly.

May have said “yes” or “come-the-fuck-on, please,” but we drew together.

We kissed, and it felt warm and patient and full. My mind was flashing these neon signs of “this makes sense!” and other justifications for my sexually frustrating year.

And then, it got less patient. There was just a lot of enthusiasm, okay? His hand was on my hip, but I wanted him to dig into me – my fingers were under his t-shirt but I wanted to pull it off entirely. The kissing was >>dizzying!<< but my selfish body wanted more. We stretched out along his couch, him on top, and I could feel him hard against me. He was grinding me into the couch, we were grinding against each other, moaning, sighing, kissing.

We didn’t speak much, but there were all these little affirmations. I would moan against his mouth, and he’d whisper into my neck how excited he was hearing me. He would trail a hand higher up on my side and I’d ask him to touch me.

Maybe half an hour into it, we make eye contact and break apart- laughing a bit at how disheveled we both are. I wanted him to say something cheesy like how he hadn’t expected this, whereas I could tell him that I totally did, and then whip off my shirt. Sometimes my brain writes rom-coms. I blame society.

We ran giggling down the hallway to the bedroom. I suggested we undress, he made a joke that I was getting far too presumptuous. I already had my shirt off, was fully bare before him and I think he saw my chest/neck flush – because his joke didn’t quite land and for half a second I did fear that I was crossing some line thinking we’re about to have sex. But then we both laughed, and he kissed me, and he pushed me back on his bed. Bedspring and mattress situated directly on the floor (why do ALL guys…? Whatever). Honestly. And I am NOT the floor-mattress apologist. But really, being that low to the ground ended up working out.

I pulled off my pants as he took off his shirt. We were making eye contact as he kept undressing but he kept his underwear on so I did too. He laughed that I had my socks on. I don’t remember if this just became a joke between us, but I think I actually kept them on cuz I feared that, after a day of flying, my feet were not ~refreshed~.

We kissed, and then he pushed me backward, his hand trailing over me as he settled on the floor at the edge of the bed, other hand moving softly over my panties.

My mind nearly melted. Because for one year, this was a dream that had been building. A vision. Of this guy, that I connected with on so many levels. Naked with me. Fine – nearly-naked, but it was starting to feel inevitable, even with MY Olympic medalist ability to jump to conclusions and misread his signals. Right now he was stroking me through my panties, it’s officially impossible to misread this.

He asked what I wanted and I told him not to stop, to keep going. I let my head fall back as he slid my underwear off. We both knew by this point that I was really wet, but he made a comment about it that made me feel really sexy. Something about how long he had been waiting to feel me this wet.

And then he leaned forward. Eyes trained on me, his tongue pressed against my clit, firmly transporting me into some other dimension. Like, goddamn. How was he making the room vibrate around me. This man was so insistent with his tongue, starting slowly, shifting languidly to a different pattern that did not register with me. I don’t think I was prepared to indulge so much in my own pleasure — my hips were arching off the bed and he used his hands to keep me still. When he picked up the pace, it made me feel — this has never happened before to me – but I think the circuits in my brain fried for 10 minutes, because I realized that out-of-nowhere, I could not feel my hands! They were buzzing with this weird ants-under-my-skin energy. Was this happening?! Was my body punishing me by paralyzing my fucking hands? I said nothing, because I thought I was going crazy, and if it’s my last moment of sanity, why ruin it.

Ignoring my hands didn’t help though, just made it worse – more buzzy… – so I decided to reach out and try to touch him.

Feeling his curls under my fingers, I thought I was gaining a bit more awareness of my hands. But then his mouth moved over me, hot breath tingling my skin, and when he leaned forward and sucked ever so lightly on my clit, I thought ‘I have no hands! And I never will again.’ Edward Scissored-Hands. I was mush, and all the blood in my body was focused on the “it’s FINALLY HAPPENING” part of the show — heat was building more and more!

At this point, I couldn’t feel my elbows! SO I got scared and interrupted a true master at work. I reached forward, grabbing him for a kiss, bringing him up my body and onto the bed.

We were smiling at each other and laughing. More importantly, I could feel my hands again as my fingers roamed his back – I was afraid to dwell too much on how much I had admired his shoulders, his arms through a phone screen. I couldn’t risk losing circulation YET AGAIN!

He still had his underwear on.

Every time I reached for the edge of a waistband — I was quite eager — he pulled away purposefully, like he could not waste another second before kissing my breast, my chest, my body. The hot kisses made me arch into him, but finally I asked for him to remove his dang briefs. Don’t know if he was nervous, but. Well. I was slightly taken aback by how big he was. This whole time I had been fantasizing about his shoulders when I should have been aiming to get more pictures about what he was workin’ with.

He was standing up on his knees between my legs, and he was just very beautiful.

Quickly enough, he became very infuriating, pressing close to me, teasing, only just touching me, but never entering. And I think it’s safe to say my body hungered for his. When I tell you.. this man made me beg for him to enter me.

Well. It was worth it. The incredible feeling, the elation mirrored in his body, his face — we were grown ass adults who felt like they had just discovered pleasure, and moving together was a way to revel in it. He was on top. My legs alternated between wrapping around him – his hand reaching low to grab my ass or stroke my thighs – and grounding into the bed to lift my hips toward him, matching his movements. I needed more of him. I felt shamelessly hungry for him. I told him how long I’d been anticipating this, how good he felt inside me.

His arms wrapped around me. He pulled back suddenly, a bit of questioning in his eyes as he confessed that it had been a while for him too – I told him it was fine – in my mind, there was no way we weren’t doing this again. Probably this same day. Our movements flowed without dominating one another, and gah – I love writing but I can’t quite put into words how exquisite it was to simply have him be inside of me. That first time, it felt like the precipice of something I hadn’t expected to uncover.

When he came, we held each other close, locking eyes. We kissed, he was still inside me. And then, we high-fived.

We laughed, joked about how it felt too good to move. Maybe I was still grinding my hips against him. Maybe he was drawing slightly out, teasingly. But in what was a very unexpected 30 seconds for me, he was very ready to keep going, and I was very excited for round 2.

It was incredible, though a little scary (re hand numbness. that can’t be good). Finally posted all this for him, because I know he’s an avid reader and he actually turned me on to this page. Might post more depending on how much he enjoys this ;)

Anyway. Has anyone else received head so good that they lost feeling in their hands or feet? I know there are medical cases where people can actually pass out from too much pleasure.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/10l3y4a/waited_for_1_yr_in_horny_jail_until_i_f29_could