I (34M) got divorced a couple of years ago and quickly became a slut.
I had been married to the woman I lost my virginity to when I was 17. That’s not a bad thing. We lived our independent lives. Our sex life was always incredibly healthy and sometimes, experimental. Had a few threesomes we both enjoyed. But we just grew apart as some couples do.
When we broke up, I pretty much fucked anyone that enthusiastically consented. Problem with that is — even when you think you’re not — you tend to play with people’s emotions. Sex turns from survival to amazing when you build a connection with your partner. A hard stare into someone’s eyes as you thrust yourself into them can be read for something more than you think it is. I mean, there’s something inherently wrong about an exchange of:
“Fuck me harder, daddy.”
“Yes, baby.”
a matter of hours after meeting someone for the first time.
Being called out in parking lot by a sweet single mother has a way of making you reevaluate your perspective on these sorts of things. I’d like to blame my lack of relationships prior to 32 but you live and learn, I guess.
Not an intended resolution, but after the new year, I threw myself into a promotion at work and kind of abstained from sex. That’s not to say I haven’t partaken in any activity at all. I masturbate at least once a day. I’ve become a connoisseur of porn, scouring the web for any potential perversions and fetishes. I’ve been known to exchange a filthy PM or two with a r/gonewildcurvy vixen who made my mouth water — occasionally, replying with a requested picture of me or my uncircumcised cock in some compromising position (side note: what is it with you women’s fetish for foreskin? I thought you were supposed to think uncut men were unclean). Also, I never thought I’d find myself jacking off onto my iPad.
It’s been fun but, along with the longing for a warm mouth or a tight cunt, you miss the intimacy.
I was invited to a friend’s wife’s birthday party at a karaoke bar back in August. In my younger days, I was known to have a few too many and not remember the next day I tore the house down with drunken renditions of Bowie or Foo Fighters tunes. I had thought my singing days were over before I met this woman.
You know, I never believed in love at first sight… still don’t. But when I first saw her smiling and laughing with my friend’s wife, I thought to myself, “If she isn’t already taken, I really want to marry this woman someday and have 2 or 3 kids with her”. I’ve never had a thought so fucked up in my life, and I’ve had some seriously fucked up thoughts.
I mingled on one end of our corner saying hello to friends I hadn’t seen in awhile, sneaking away glances at the auburn haired beauty as I made my way closer to her and the birthday girl. Getting innocently thrilled by the way her bosom lightly tugged on the buttons of her blouse. Feeling excited catching her awkwardly turn away as I looked up at her.
“This is Jen,” my friend’s wife introduced, taking Jen’s (35F) soft, outstretched hand into mine for the first time. We quickly got to talking and nothing else existed in the world for the rest of the night.
We started off by making snide yet kind remarks about the amateur rock stars, giggling and cheering them on. When I noticed her glass was empty, I asked her if she needed a refill, returning with a vodka tonic. “I said gin & tonic,” she laughed. “You don’t listen to well, do ya?”
“That’s what my ex wife used to say.”
“Oh? I used to be married, too.”
“A divorcée also?”
“He died,” she answered matter-of-factly.
I didn’t know what to say, so I resorted to my natural state of social ineptitude. “Did you kill him?”
She dissolved into hysterical laughter, the hint of exposed cleavage rippling with each heave.
At one point, I went to the bathroom returning to her flashing a mischievous grin in my direction.
“What’s that look for?” I asked.
“They tell me you’re quite the singer,” she chuckled, my face turning red with embarrassment. She was persistent, egging me on that she wanted to see. Finally, negotiating that she would, if I did first. I got up in front of the crowd and did a fairly decent version of Oasis’ “Don’t Look Back In Anger”, only cracking once or twice.
I came back to her applauding me.
“Your turn,” I said.
“I don’t sing,” she laughed.
She didn’t.
Our party closed down the bar. I walked her back to her car where we were finally able to actually hold a conversation. My heart was crushed to learn she was leaving the next day like some American GI. While she lived here, she was in the last year of her microbiology doctorate at a university halfway across the country. For someone who tends to dominate conversations I’m involved with, I was surprised to find myself hanging on every word of her silky smooth voice. Even feeling passion for the woman while she explained to me the illness that took the life of her husband 6 years prior.
Two hours later, our night didn’t end with a bang, but a long embrace in an empty parking lot, a small peck and a promise to have dinner when she returned for Christmas break.
I didn’t expect much communication apart from the social media adds the following day. So I was surprised when my phone buzzed about two weeks later. It read, “Made me think of you,” along with a picture of her radio showing the song ID of Oasis – Don’t Look Back In Anger.
And that’s how the flood started. I replied immediately, and instantaneously, the iMessage bubbles churned. For the next month, we might as well have been by each other’s side, exchanging pictures of everything we saw that we found interesting or funny, sending Spotify links for songs we felt the other absolutely had to hear, not a once addressing the obvious sexual tension between us. Until…
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/a2lczr/mf_so_i_just_lost_my_virginity_again_part_1
Really….