The first time - introduction

It’s Friday night, I am at home after some work drinks when Steve calls me and asks if I want to go to this sex party with him. An hour later, I am showered, groomed and changed, rushing in a taxi to meet him in the hip area downtown. He meets me outside, compliments me on my outfit and points out the bar where he’s been waiting for me.

“It’s really happening tonight!” he says. The place only has five customers. I can just picture him, sitting at the bar on his own, sipping his  drink and getting hit on by older women. I am enthralled by him, I think he can get any woman he wants! I feel so special to be the one here with him.

We ring at an unmarked door and go upstairs, where we are greeted by a very sexy man, medium height, well built, short black hair, blue eyes and an enticing smile. He’s only wearing some tight fitting boxer shorts. He laughs, probably at me, and simply says, “You two must have come to the right place!” I feel blood rushing to my face and blush involuntarily, one of the many blushes of the night.

The apartment is made up of a big loft space with a balcony overlooking the street, another loft area in the back, and a tiny bedroom separating the two. The bed is piled with several people having sex, an orgy like you would imagine it or see in the movies, beautiful lithe bodies all tangled on top of another, legs spread, women wet, men erect, all this licking and sucking and the skin on skin slapping sounds of intercourse.  Moaning, lots of explicit, pornographic moaning, and the smell of sweat and sex and come and more sex. Nothing prepared me for this spectacle. I am entranced and feel my senses both numbed and overwhelmed. I feel blood rushing to my face and down there at the same time. I blush again and feel myself getting wet. Feeling exposed, I mumble something about a drink and head out to the balcony for a cigarette. Steve follows me.

How did I end up in a place like this? I only met Steve about a month ago, on an explicit personals site, and it took me all of an hour to go back to his place and jump into bed with him. It’s not something I would have envisioned myself doing a few months prior, but everything changed recently, and I’ve spent the last few weeks jumping in and out of various men’s beds around town, wondering how much I can afford to spend on taxis. Coming home at five in the morning to be at work by ten, in my mind I would already be planning the next night’s encounter. This has become my life, adventures, fun and games, liberating but not exactly in line with society’s expectations. Not something I would tell my friends over drinks.

I’m used to men sizing me up as a potential girlfriend, going through a mental checklist as they ask me a variety of questions about myself. Pretty? Check. Nice figure? Check. Has one of those ‘real jobs’? Check. Interesting, intelligent, good sense of humour. Check, check and check. Exotic looks and background, bonus points. I appear almost innocent to them, an pretty oval face with big blue eyes and long unkempt hair. I’m always labeled as the kind of girl a man wants bring home to his mom, and show off to his friends. It’s flattering, and yet I have no interest in settling down, getting married, having kids, moving to suburbia, acquiring a minivan and a dog. In fact, the above scenario is my greatest nightmare. I feel that there is more to life, so much that I don’t know, so much is there that I want to explore. It’s all in my mind, and my mind is fully open to the fantasy.

Sex. A driving obsession from an early age, I want to know it all, I want to have it, lots of it, in every possible way, and I want to understand everything about it. Some people have hobbies. I have sex.

It all began a couple of months ago, when one night I was sitting at home on my own and browsing sexually explicit websites. It always gave me a thrill to read adult personals and imagine myself in those scenarios. A boss looking for a sexy secretary, to dress up in stockings and come to his office for some fun. A man looking for a young girl to corrupt. I professor wanting a blowjob from a slutty student. A suit suggesting a quickie in a bar bathroom, no names, no conversation. All these men, looking for women to fulfill these fantasies, I feel like they are looking for me. I can be any of these things, the secretary, the student, the naïve young girl, the dirty girl having an anonymous encounter in a bar. I just need to open myself to the possibilities. I must try it out. I must know what lies beyond that door.

It doesn’t help that I have been so busy working, I haven’t had any sex in at least six months. The realization hits me like a truck, and right then and there, I decide to act. A friend of mine once said how much respect he had for a girl going home with a random guy after a party. Everyone else had that judgmental look on their face, while he simply said, ‘Respect. She was horny, and she did something about it’. I took those words to heart and did something about it, right then and there. I posted an ad on an adult personals site. Only a few lines, very simple. I am a pretty, fit and intelligent 24 year old professional looking for some casual fun. Into oral, anal, giving blowjobs, and regular sex. You must be tall, good looking, professional, and in your twenties or thirties. Essentially I covered all the bases of everything I knew sex to be. Very direct, short and sweet.

I always remember that first time. The first time I have posted this ad, I must have received about four hundred responses. I remember sitting at my computer and watching in amazement as my inbox filled with emails from all these men, so many of them very good looking, interesting witty and charming. So many men, so much to explore! So many possibilities! I felt that I had tapped a vein, a major artery of this big city full of people who are lonely, cooped up in their overpriced studio flats all over this great island, sitting in front of a computer and looking for a connection, desperate to even chat to a girl.

The first experience didn’t lead to sex but was pleasant nonetheless. I met a man at a lecture hall of the university across town. I remember dressing up for the occasion, knee length skirt, no underwear, a tight top. I wanted to play the part of the woman who’s every man’s fantasy. I had the butterflies in my stomach when I arrived at the designated bar for a drink to break the ice. He looked just like the photo he had sent me, and he smiled when he saw me. We talked, we chatted and flirted, and after he offered to give me a tour of the campus found a discreet corner in a lecture room. There were no people around in the evening, and I didn’t think to bring condoms. He put his hands all over me under my clothes, touching my breasts, fingering me, getting me very turned on before I went down on him, he went down on me, he fingered me to orgasm and I went down on him to completion. I then straightened out my clothes and my hair, gave him a kiss goodbye on the cheek before walking out of there, feeling elated, the fantasy girl, smiling to myself before getting into a taxi and going home, satisfied for the night.

The second guy I met showed up to my door with condoms and a six pack of beer. First we chatted online, then it turned out that he lived nearby, and neither of us had any plans for that evening. We had a couple of beers and put condoms to good use, having hot and messy sex all over the flat.  We ended up in my flatmate’s bed, where he came over my breast and my face. There were some stains left on the sheets when she got back to the city the following morning.

The third meeting was with Steve It happened unexpectedly on a Monday night, we had initially planned to meet on a tuesday but his evening was suddenly free, so he gave me a call during lunch to ask if I wanted to go for a drink after work. He wasn’t one of the men who’ve responded to me straight away. He wrote back a couple of days after I posted the ad, with a standard response, a physical description, his preferences, and a picture. He was strikingly handsome in that photo. Standing at two meters tall, spiked up black hair, strong facial features, a penetrating gaze, dressed simply in jeans and a white t shirt, holding a camera in his hand even though someone else was taking the picture. I wanted him straight away; I had to meet him. I wrote back, a couple of lines with a compliment, suggested a drink during the week and attached my photo. He wrote back straight away and asked about my nationality. No, he guessed it straight away. It was his background, too.

On the day we were meant to meet, I wasn’t dressed particularly sexy, since I wasn’t expecting to have any plans in the evening. I stood there in my office bathroom, looking at myself, the face that’s so familiar, the eyes, the hair, the makeup I had put on this morning that still looked fresh, not feeling much like a femme fatale in my office uniform of black trousers and a button down shirt. I sexed myself up by removing my bra before heading out to a nearby hotel bar to meet Steve for the preliminary drink, the chemistry check. I arrived early and didn’t see him at the bar. The butterflies in my stomach had multiplied instead of settling on my walk over from the office, so when some man at the bar asked me if I were Julie, I mumbled a barely audible ‘no’ before practically running out of there. I thought about leaving for all of a second, and decided that I need to take a walk around the block and have some deep breaths.

Steve called me when I was half way around the to ask where I am. He seemed a bit confused on the phone when I told him I was on the same block but on the other side, as if I had walked past the bar or couldn’t find it. “I’ll be there in five minutes”, I replied. When I walked back in to the hotel I could see him standing there, even more impressive than he had been in the photo, very tall, so strikingly good looking, looking right at me and right through me with that penetrating gaze. I went straight up to him to say hello; he kissed me on the cheek as if we’d already met; I thought to myself, “This man is mine.”