When I [26F] was 21 I fucked a stranger [32M] I met at a movie theater in Vienna

I had just turned 21, and was traveling alone for the first time in my life. Vienna for three days, then was going to meet up with my family, and return to being in that in-between stage. At first, I was afraid I’d be bored by the lack of company. In fact, the experience was quite the opposite. I was at ease exploring the city on my own pace, doing *whatever* I wanted to do, *whenever* I wanted to do it. I was carried through Vienna that summer powered by nothing other than my own whimsy. To this day, it remains a crystallization of my favorite kind of freedom. On every street, a new place to explore, or a new person—and no one to tell you no.

My first night in Vienna, I bought a ticket to a concert in a church. Afterward, I strolled out of the church humming, trying to decide what to do next. I was wearing an outfit that made me feel like the definition of sophisticated: Long flare black linen pants, a crop tank top that showed a peek of my stomach. Bright red lipstick. Timeless, and feeling myself. Vienna, in the summer, is teeming with activity. There are outdoor concerts, festivals, and movies galore. All free, and all *right there* for the taking.

I was headed to a movie in another part of town, one that would require taking the metro. But on my walk, I passed a large movie theater that was just beginning to show its film. The light was waning. This one was closer to my hotel, and the movie was starting. After walking past, I decided to turn around and check it out. Why not.

Looking back, I’m so happy I did.

Once I got there, I hung out toward the back of the makeshift theater, which was comprised of small red tables and small red chairs. There was a snack stand where people got wine and chatted, half paying attention to the movie. Most people were paired up—except for me and the jolly-looking man standing next to me.

I say “Jolly” even though it’s an antiquated term, and definitely reminiscent of Santa Claus, because he really *was* jolly. He exuded this friendly energy as he came over and introduced himself. If he hadn’t, I probably wouldn’t have spoken to him. He struck up a conversation, and we bonded about traveling in Vienna alone. After figuring out what movie was playing (a film noir classic about two twins), we decided to sit at one of the tables together, toward the back. He got us both glasses of white wine.

We spent the entirety of the movie laughing at the action on screen and telling each other about our lives. It was a wholesome conversation—one that served to make me feel completely comfortable with him. Sidenote: He had a CRAZY job. He was Swiss, and he told me he transported extremely expensive Swiss watches for a living. He had to dress very unassumingly as he walked around with these riches. He was in Vienna on a work assignment (?!) that was just completed, and was leaving for Greece the following day.

The movie ended, and it was finally dark. Of course, there was an energy buzzing between us. A “what if” that could turn into a “something.” But I didn’t know if he wanted it, frankly. And I didn’t know if I did, either. I decided to let the next few minutes take their course. Anyway, I was happy to not have to walk home to my hotel alone. What they say about walking home alone is true—if you’re a girl, it can be dangerous.

He walked me to the subway station and showed me how to buy a ticket. I asked him where he was going. He said he wasn’t sure. And I said, “Come with me.” That’s how we ended up in the subway, not able to look each other in the eye. Once we decided it was happening, it couldn’t come soon enough.

I’d found a ridiculous last-minute deal in a tiny single room in a semi-luxurious hotel. The room was comfortable, but so small that it felt like a tiny garret apartment in a romantic book. Ultimately, it lent itself well to the carnage that followed afterward.

Until we got into the elevator, I couldn’t quite discern his sexual energy. Would he be timid? Would he be dominant? Then he pushed me against the elevator, and growled. *Ah. A beast*. When I tell you: I’ve never been with a man with this much *energy* in my *life*, I mean it (except for my pre-quarantine hook-up; you can read about him!). We leapt into bed with the momentum of like, kids tumbling around in a playground (sorry to bring kids into this).

He was laser-focused on my face, my neck. He kissed me so that my whole upper body was coated in kisses, as he began to take off his clothes, mine. The lights were on, still. I asked him to turn them off. He wouldn’t. I’d learn there would be time for sex with the lights off. Luckily, I packed condoms with me.

There were six left.

We used them all.

The first round was missionary, almost as if we were getting it over with. He wasn’t a thin guy, but rather full—not in a bad way. Kind of like how you’d expect a mountain man to look. He didn’t have the biggest cock ever, either, but he had so much stamina and attention. As he rammed himself into me, he made a face as if he were in pain, or about to burst into laughter, and couldn’t decide which. He started to growl. I bit his ear.

He came, and we cooled off. Figured this would be like other hookups—one and done. *Maybe* a hookup in the morning. But I was idly playing with his soft cock. Next thing I knew, he was hard again. We made eye contact. “Yes,” he said. First, I put his cock into my mouth to make sure he was *really* ready. I love blowing guys who aren’t super big because it’s easier for me to completely take them into my mouth, and go wild. His hands dug into my curly hair as my head bobbed up and down, running my tongue along his head as my other hand held the base of his cock. I knew if I kept going, he would come—and I wanted another go.

That time, I went on top and straddled his full body. I rode him with my ass moving slowly, back and forth. This time, it was my turn to be in control. When I was up there, he made a show about playing with my nipples. I love a man who recognizes the power of the nip—lick my nipples enough, and I teeter on the edge of coming. But don’t twist ’em (not mine, at least).

We were *really* hot, after that. Sometimes I can’t believe what we did next. My room had a veranda which looked out onto Vienna. He wanted a cigarette, and walked outside—naked—to light it up. He held my hand and led me out, too. He smoked a cigarette and when he was done, walked so that he was standing behind me. The wind was biting against my naked body, vulnerable to the height, the cold, the people who could see me outside. He played with my nipples, ran his fingers down my sides. The exhibitionist streak lit up like lightning. I wanted him to finger fuck me—and maybe, if it happened now, I would’ve told him to. As it were, I was 21 and had not blossomed fully into the slut I am today. I just let him caress me. In my fantasy, he bends me over and fucks me doggy style as the city watches.

After that, we went to sleep. For a while. Then in the middle of the night, I woke up to him moving against me. He wanted to go again. Half-awake, I let him slide into me (with a condom on). The next morning, we fucked again with morning breath. Then he led me to the shower for one final go. He had a flight to catch in a few hours. I knew I’d never see him again, but we enjoyed every minute we spent together.

I don’t know how this man had the energy to fuck me silly six times without coffee or any other drug, that I know of! But this was a fun experience. It felt fated. To this day, this experience goes down as testament to one of my core principles: Say yes to things! And go with your gut!

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**Note:** You may have noticed that the orgasm ratio was quite uneven in this hookup. He came six times and I came a big ‘ol zero. Aside from the roof escapade, he barely touched my pussy with care. Unfortunately, that’s a common theme across many of my casual hookups. The truth is, like many women, I can’t come from vaginal penetration. I think some men that I’ve hooked up with believe that I can, because I clearly enjoy being fucked, so they don’t concern themselves with making sure I come, too. Since I’ve gotten older, I’ve become more communicative about what I want out of an encounter, so that the “ratio” is less imbalanced. Often, that’ll result in my getting myself off myself—which is totally fine—because he doesn’t care to.

With that in mind, if i had to “edit” this experience, it would be that he had taken more care to ensure that our bodies were both reaching peak nirvana, hah. As I’ll say over and over: In addition to knowing how to, oh, I dunno—barbecue and build a house—one of the greatest skill sets a man can have is knowing how to please a woman, and enjoying the process. I LOVE giving blowjobs and seeing someone in the depths of pleasure. Hopefully future hookups feel the same about eating my pussy.

Maybe my NEXT story will be about the man who surprised me with his insane pussy eating skills…stay tuned! xox

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/hz7brd/when_i_26f_was_21_i_fucked_a_stranger_32m_i_met