[MF] The First Time I Met a Woman Online

I used to get laid from writing erotica.

It probably seems impossible to believe now. But this was the early 2000s. There were no smartphones or dating apps. Personals sites existed, but mostly they were filled with people who were lonely and curious but not willing to actually meet someone. Nobody imagined a future where literally everyone was willing to date someone they met online.

Amazon also existed, but there wasn’t a self-publishing industry where everyone was trying to make a living writing smut. There were just a few big sites where people went to read erotica online or share their own fantasies, and most of the stuff published was over-the-top pornography that involved chance meetings turning into threesomes. Typically with older men and younger girls.

In my case, I was in my twenties a naive romantic who liked to write about great sex and falling in love. So it wasn’t surprising that I ended up with an audience of mostly women who were also young, optimistic, and a little naive.

Still, I never expected to meet anyone. I wrote primarily for myself and enjoyed the thrill of getting some kind feedback every now and then. At most I hoped for a little flirty back and forth via email or maybe on instant messenger.

[MF] I met her in the airport. And then we fucked.

I’m in a west coast city 1800 miles from home. I’m wearing a robbe and sitton on the couch of my hotel suite. There’s a naked woman napping in the bedroom. She’s completely worn out and freshly fucked.

When I’m traveling alone I hit on women in the airport. You can’t do that if you’re afraid of failure because it’s a low yield proposition. Maybe out of twenty times it actually goes somewhere. And even then is doesn’t often lead to sex.

But sometimes it does. Every now and then you find a fellow business travel looking to blow off steam. or someone on vacation and looking to cut loose. Or the rare unicorn who just likes a no-strings fuck.

There is no rhyme or reason to it. I’ve never determined a pattern. But there are still things I look for. Someone dressed to impress and traveling alone. Or someone who looks slightly overwhelmed.

This morning I first saw her in the precheck line. She’s about 5’2″. Mocha colored skin. Thirtyish. Hair cut very short. Wedge heels. And she was shoved into a cotton t-shirt dress that was not made to handle a woman of her proportions. It hugged the contours of her body. Her round ass. Her big tits.