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# This is more of a gone mild story, and doesn’t actually contain much sex, but it happened two years ago, it’s a pleasant memory, and it’s getting fuzzy in my head. It was a long day, and a great one.
This happened to me when I was 38 years old. I am married but have been in a dead bedroom the entire time. My husband is the only person I’ve ever been with. I never dated or hooked up with anyone, I’ve never been flirted with or hit on or anything in my entire life. I didn’t have a boyfriend until I was 22 years old. This is all for context.
Two years ago, in the fall, I was meeting my best friend in Chicago because there was an event we both wanted to go to, our favorite author was doing a free talk at the Poetry Foundation. She came with her boyfriend and his friend and I went solo. She stayed with them and I had a different hotel room. I hung out with her, but also did things on my own like go to museums and window shop.
The day of the talk was pretty amazing…I spent the day at the Art Institute, had a great lunch, then caught up with my friend and her man entourage. We had a drink at a nice bar, then went for dinner where more drinks were had. We caught our authors talk, and by then it was after 10 o’clock and we met up with her men at a bar. They wanted to watch a football game, and this was also during the World Series. The Cubs were giving the Nationals hell, and it was a great game that went on forever, close to midnight. I was enmeshed in the game, and the wait staff was really nice. By this time my friend and her boyfriend left, and her boyfriend’s friend stayed with me to watch the game. Basically I was watching the game with him and one of the waitresses. I was really drunk by this time, and when the game finally ended in overtime the beautiful waitress and I jumped up and down and yelled and hugged each other. Hey, it was a great game, we were in Chicago, and it was midnight.
Now…it was midnight, and I was a mile walk away from my hotel. I was drunk, and in a great mood. I hugged the friend of a friend good bye and walked back.
I was buzzed and too wired to sleep, and my hotel has a swanky roof top bar. I decided on a nightcap for myself so I could wind down.
It was still busy in there, but I found a seat at the bar by myself, off to the side. Now, I’m older, and not pretty, and no one ever bothers me. I was wearing a modest sweater dress, chacos, and a Patagonia jacket over that. Nothing fancy or sexy at all. Oddly enough though on this night, a bar fly noticed me and was talking to me incessantly…so my quiet drink was interrupted. He noticed my unresponsiveness…and another one swooped in wanting to show me things on his phone. I was a little drunk and I think I was rude to him.
Luckily the bartender, Shawna, noticed my situation and said to me, If you like, there are some nice people on the other end of the bar. I think you’ll be more comfortable sitting in another seat. I want everyone to be comfortable at my bar, she said. I took her up on her suggestion and I moved.
She was right! There was a nice woman visiting from Arizona sitting there, and we chatted about books, authors, and Chicago, and traveling. We gave each other book recommendations before she left.
Well all this chatter kept me buzzed, and I ordered another wine after she left. Shawna and I made occasional conversation when we could, but otherwise I finally had my quiet drink.
Until another two guys walked in and occupied the space next to me. They were also bartenders, were getting off work, and they talked business with Shawna. She pulled out a bottle of rum of some significance (I’m not into rum so I have no idea why it was so coveted but whatever) and she talked to the three of us about it. They each ordered a shot of it, and I asked if I could have a shot too. Obviously I was flat out drunk at this point, but what the hell. I only had to walk down to my room afterward.
She poured us our shots and the three of us drank.
I have no recollection of what the rum tasted like, which was too bad. I was three sheets to the wind by this point, since I had essentially been drinking since 4 pm that afternoon.
Soon after, the two guys next to me, whose names were Stephen and Tom, said that they were taking off since it was last call, and going to a “4 am bar.” As an afterthought, but not unkindly, Tom turned to me and said, You can come too if you want.
I agreed immediately. What the hell, right? I’m just a married lady in Chicago by myself getting drunk in a bar and about to go off with two strangers. I never get to do stuff like this. I asked them if I could run down to my room for a minute, as I needed to drop off the bag I was carrying. They said sure, they’d wait…I ran downstairs and half expected them to be gone by the time I got back, but they were waiting for me.
Again I was plastered by this point, but my thought process was this: There’s a chance that they are going to rape and kill me and leave me in an alley. No one knows where I am, or what I’m doing. There was a tiny chance of that, but it was there. The larger chance, I thought, was that I was going to follow them to this bar, have another drink or two, and that they were going to leave me there with no good way to get back (as we were walking, and I wasn’t sure that I’d remember the way.) I don’t know how to use Uber or Lyft, but I figured that I could just ask a bartender to call me a cab, as I at least was not so drunk that I couldn’t remember the name of the hotel. So I did have a drunk-logic plan in place.
I doggedly followed them on our 15 minute walk, feeling like a third wheel. Is this a bad neighborhood? I asked. Can I walk home alone? You’ll be okay they responded.
Shit like this never happens to me and I felt a little silly all of a sudden, but still mostly like I was on a fun adventure.
We got to the place and it was after 1 am by this point. It was a bar that specialized in Belgian beer and they ordered drinks and I…kept drinking. I love Belgian beer. We were talking and laughing and it was nice. What their plans were (they were both 5+ years younger than me) if they liked where they lived, Tom’s girlfriend who is a lawyer, etc. At one point I had to go to the bathroom to pee, and I was noticeably swaying on my feet. Wow she’s drunk Tom said. Stephen kindly ordered me a water.
Drunken conversation continued, the kind where you’re hanging on each other and yelling. I was steadying myself on the back of a bar stool and Tom’s shoulder at this point, having the kind of conversation that involves yelling and laughing and gesticulating wildly and hanging on people. I’m sure I was ridiculous.
Then it happened.
I was talking to Tom, and I felt Stephen’s hand brush the back of mine, where I had it braced against the back of the bar stool. I responded and clasped my fingers around his, and ran my thumb along his index finger.
I’ve never hooked up with anyone, I’ve never had a one night stand, I’ve never flirted with a stranger. I thought I didn’t know the language, or what to do, or that it was even a possibility for me, but even through my drunken haze, the second I felt Stephen’s hand on mine, I knew: This is on. This is happening. A concrete, stolid, comforting thought: This is what he’s asking me, and I’m agreeing to it, and he knows it, and we’re going to do it. That’s it.
Maybe another half hour passed and our conversation started to wind down. It was very late at this point. They looked at each other. I’ll get her home, Stephen said. I hugged Tom goodbye, a strong, sincere hug, and wished him good luck.
Outside the bar we waited for the Lyft, and we climbed in. I think immediately I was in Stephen’s lap making out with him but simultaneously saying, We can’t have sex because I have my period and it will be like Carrie’s prom up in here so we just can’t have sex!! We kissed some more and I remember him looking at me saying, You’re very sweet.
By this time I am basically blackout drunk. There are gaps in my memory and I’m surprised I remember anything at all. Like I couldn’t even find the card to my room, thank God the lady working the desk was very nice and made me a new one. I can only imagine how drunk and insane I appeared to her.
We got into my room and had our arms around each other making out and holding each other tightly. You’re a good kisser, he told me. I am? I asked skeptically. You’d be surprised, he said. That made me feel really good, as I haven’t had a lot of practice.
After a few minutes of that I promptly lost my balance and fell awkardly against the wall, cutting my arm, as the drywall had decorative edging in it. Stephen tried to catch me but I took him down too and we ended up on the floor, and continued to kiss and talk.
You’re really beautiful, he said.
I just looked at him in askance. No I’m not, I said.
No, you really are. You are! He said.
I just looked at him for another minute and then I started crying. He held me and rubbed my back comfortingly. Yes you are baby, and don’t let anyone tell you any different, he said.
Eventually I was half dressed, my dress had come off at some point, and I was down to my underwear and camisole. We were on the couch and I was sitting on his lap. I think I took my camisole off and took his shirt off and we continued to make out and talk.
I was laying down across his lap half naked and it occured to me: Are you okay? I’m not like, teasing you or anything, am I? It doesn’t occur to me that I’m pretty or sexy or attractive, but at the same time I’m laying down on him, topless, and talking about shit like his dad dying when he was 19. Is that a wrong thing to do?
I got back up on his lap, and kissed him, and he licked my nipples and touched me, and I kissed my way down his chest and took his cock out. I was shocked that he actually got hard for me. I ended up giving him a blow job. I got really into it and moaned a little, and he told me that he liked that. So I let myself make as much noise as I wanted while I sucked him off, and he ended up cumming in my mouth. I liked that very much.
We made out a little more. It was getting late.
We should take a shower! I said. Until that moment I’ve never showered with anyone in my entire life. Surprisingly, he agreed. I brushed my teeth first, and made the comment beforehand, I’m so drunk and gross I can’t believe you want to kiss me. He gave me a look that said, Are you crazy? And took my face in his hands and gave me a nice long kiss. Then I let him borrow my toothbrush and I turned on the water.
Honestly that was the nicest part. I got to really look at him in light. He was a little taller than me and had beautiful thick dark red hair, medium brown/hazel eyes. He had tattoos and was on the leaner side and had pale skin. We washed each other and he helped rinse the shampoo out of my hair, we kissed and touched each other alot, and at one point we were just holding each other close, and looking into each others eyes as the warm water ran over us. He felt really good, it felt wonderful to feel the naked length of his body against mine, he was beautiful to look at, he had been very sweet to me the entire night, I was comfortable with him and I think I was already half in love with him, even though by that time I think he forgot my name because he just kept calling me “baby.”
After we dried off, he said…I should really get going. It’s late. Oh honey don’t go! I implored. Or let me come with you! (Please remember that I was still shit faced drunk.) He didn’t answer me, but instead started closing all the curtains. It was nearly 6 am and the sky wasn’t as pitch black, and the streets were starting to wake up.
We were both still naked from our shower, and I got into bed, and he did too. He held me tight and I fell asleep naked in his arms, which isn’t something I’ve ever done with anyone.
I woke up that way, with his arms still around me. Housekeeping was banging on my door. In my debauchery of blow jobs and showering with men I don’t know I had forgotten to put the “Do Not Disturb” sign on my door. I was still half drunk and very disoriented and exhausted. I ran to the door, naked, and asked if I could just stay in until 11 am. I ran back into the room and Stephen was getting up and finding his clothes. I couldn’t see a damn thing because I couldn’t find my glasses and because my brain was in a sleepy alcohol fog.
I can’t find my glasses! I yelled and frantically pawed around the room for them. Stephen found them for me. I helped him find his clothes and I threw on a dress from my suitcase in the meantime.
I can’t find my phone! Stephen offered to take my number and call me so it would ring. I ended up finding it so we didn’t need to do that. (Sometimes in retrospect I wish that I had gotten his number, but I guess it doesn’t matter.)
I was still so groggy and crazy. I helped Stephen find all his shit, and when he was ready to go he picked me up off the ground, grabbed my ass hard, I locked my arms around his neck, and he kissed me. We made out and said good bye.
And that was it. He was gone.
I never saw him again, obviously, but I’ll never forget him. I think about him occasionally, and wonder about him. He was very gentle and kind with me, and I felt so cared for. My husband and I don’t have sex, and he’s never really been into me. We didn’t do anything crazy but Stephen made me feel like I was sexy, which I’ve never experienced. He was my first hook up and I’ll always be grateful that our paths crossed. I wish I could have said thank you.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/eb0bhj/my_f_first_last_and_best_ons