A Night of Intense Sex and Deep Conversations That Redefined My Experience

I am going to tell you about the most incredible experience of my life: a breakup, a failed date, a man met on the street, and a night of intense discussions and sex.

My Break-Up

Three months ago, I found myself single again after a five-year relationship with the man I thought was the one for me. Far from it… After a truly crappy day, I was blindsided by my partner’s thirties crisis, which led us to sit down and re-evaluate our shared home, our plans for a trip to Asia, and our barely 8-month-old adopted dog.

However, it took him a month and a half to truly make up his mind to leave me. So when I finally got an answer to my fateful question, ‘Do you want to continue and fight for this or not?’ even though it was negative, I felt a real sense of relief.

New Apartment, New Apps

I move hastily, leaving my boxes and shattered heart in my new apartment, and off I go to my parents’ place for three weeks in the sun. Time to digest the news, pack away my future dreams, and gather up my pride with a teaspoon. I sign up on several dating apps.

Back in Paris, feeling somewhat unsure of myself, it takes me a while to meet the guys I’ve been chatting with. I’ve never been comfortable with dates, and besides being the type of gal petrified at the thought of making the first move in real life, it’s been close to six years since I’ve dated. Chatting, laughing, and having drinks? Sure. Moving forward? If the guy doesn’t take the lead, I don’t budge an inch, cursing my shyness…

But I persevere. I repeat to myself ‘nothing ventured, nothing gained’ like a mantra, establish a code with my friends to notify them via message if a date goes awry (the kiwi emoji won the prize because, I quote, ‘It’s ugly, hairy, and acidic’), and off we go!

I go out with two guys. The first date is really nice, but nothing happens. The second one is meh, but I’m on a roll: even though I know I’ll see the first guy again, I strike up a conversation with a third guy, making him wait for quite a while.

Why? Because he’s clearly more into flirting, and I’m not sure if I’m ready to sleep with another man. Along the way, I make the great realization of my total confusion: I want to meet new people, have fun, but at the same time, it scares me…

And then, by some miracle or out of desperation, I accept his third proposition to meet up.

A date that Starts Well and Ends Badly

So there I go, off on a date with this guy. Well, initially, everything goes smoothly. We laugh like crazy, talk about everything and nothing, there’s this playful banter. I appreciate the effort he made by wearing a hoodie (which I find very sexy on some guys) rather than a dreadfully boring turtleneck.

In the first cocktail bar, I taste mine, which is awful: so, being the gracious person I am, I let the guy drink mine and opt for a good old pint instead. First mistake, I chose Chouffe (for the beer connoisseurs who know it’s a brain cell killer).

We eventually change locations and end up in a nice little bar, great music, good vibe. I stick to beer but decide not to eat (just a temporary loss of appetite, no extraterrestrial seduction technique here).

And there comes my second mistake. Feeling a bit too cheerful towards the end of the date, I’m all pumped up: I laugh more, my cheeks are flushed, and I’m ready to party all night long.

However, turns out, Mister didn’t quite appreciate it (I only understood that the next day): he cuts the evening short, lets me pay for his burger and our drinks, and quicker than I could jot it down, he hops onto a bus.

It’s 1 am, I find myself tipsy and alone, trying to figure out the right way to walk back home. From Mister, I won’t even get a text to check if I made it back alive: talk about class (and good riddance, jerk).

An Unexpected End to the Evening

I start pulling out my earphones and cue up my best playlist to accompany my unsteady steps on the pavement as I approach a guy. He’s with his bike, has a friendly face, features that inspire confidence in me: I stop.

He asks me for a cigarette, and coincidentally, the genius that I am has some hand-rolled ones at the bottom of my bag. With the help of alcohol, we start chatting and walking a bit together. We hit it off; he speaks very gently. He’s talkative but still manages to ask me about myself — how my evening went, what I do in life.

We’re not far from my place, but what I didn’t know was that we were also close to his. He casually suggests having some tea: I don’t think too much about it.

In my mind, it’s my instinct taking over — I have a good feeling about this guy. A part of me also wants to go with the flow and let life’s chances unfold. Without further ado, I find myself in his apartment, chatting over a nice hot Earl Grey.

We share bits of our lives, and it’s really nice. It’s easy to talk with him; he’s attentive and smiling. I tell him about my ex and recent breakup, about my date earlier that evening. He confides in me that recently, he discovered he also liked guys, especially one in particular.

At the end of a sentence, he leans in gently, and he kisses me. I then make a very pleasant observation: he kisses well. Really, really well.

I know I’m going to Sleep with this Stranger

I laugh a bit, wondering what I’m doing: I don’t know this guy, he might not even be my type, and it’s already the middle of the night…

But there it is, that kiss awakened something in me. It feels so good to be kissed, to be desired. So good that I do something that hasn’t happened to me in a long time: I start to let go and surrender myself to another delightful kiss.

We spend a good time kissing, caressing each other, gently building up the tension. He suggests a massage, and I surrender (after all, why say no?!). He warms up some tiaré-scented oil in his hands and places them on my back: they’re scorching. Or is it just me?

His massage completely relaxes me, and at that moment, I know I’m going to sleep with this stranger.

We end up in his bedroom, ripping off our clothes like teenagers. He kisses my neck, slowly moves down between my thighs, simply pulling aside my thong. I think I should stop, but his mouth on me drives me wild.

I eventually pull him up by his hair, asking if he has condoms. He looks a bit surprised, as if at any moment, I might change my mind and leave (he doesn’t know I sold my soul to the goddess of lust half an hour ago).

He smiles at me, disappears for what seems like an eternity, and finally comes back with the holy grail — a box full of condoms. I can’t take it anymore, and I have only one desire: for him to penetrate me.

A Night of Intense Sex and Conversation

Sir knows how to build tension: he first kisses me slowly, just to make me a little more impatient. I moan, I squirm. He slowly removes the little fabric that remains and finally enters me. I don’t think about anything else, I cling to him like an oyster to its rock and grab his buttocks with both hands.

Regularly, he slows down the pace, takes the time to look at me, to kiss me passionately everywhere before picking up the pace again. And it drives me crazy with desire. He’s gentle, asks me if I like what he’s doing, what I want him to do, he tries different things: he turns me around, grabs me by the breasts, the love handles, the nape of my neck. He looks deep into my eyes as his pelvis moves, and it excites me even more.

It’s now two in the morning, and this guy whom I might never have approached in another context drives me completely wild. I find the unexpected beauty in it.

The desire doesn’t diminish, so we take breaks, discuss this and that, drink water, and get back to it. Nearly every corner of his apartment has been used: his living room table, the couch where it all started, his bed again, and against the wall in his room.

I’ve never had so much fun in my life. I feel beautiful, sexy, and free. My insecurities and fears are locked away, and finally, I take up all the space on the front stage, like a rockstar.

The Best Sex of My Life and a Confidence Boost

Around five in the morning, we’re entwined on his couch, sated and happy, daydreaming. But suddenly, I snap out of it and remember an important appointment three hours later on the other side of Paris.

I explain that I have to leave; immediately, he dresses and offers to walk me back. Here we are in the chilly morning, picking up the conversation right where we left it a few hours ago! It’s completely surreal yet entirely natural. He literally lives three streets away from me, so I make a mental note with a coy smile.

As we reach the bottom of my building, we exchange numbers and kiss each other passionately, like a fireworks display to end this incredible night spent together. I go upstairs, all sweaty, enveloped in the scent of monoi, and a silly smile on my face.

Once in my bed, I realize I didn’t remember his name. I send him a funny little message, laughing under my blanket. He responds casually, wishing me good luck for my appointment and a good night. No pressure.

I don’t know if I’ll ever see him again, but one thing is certain: I am capable of letting go, feeling desirable and confident; I certainly plan to get back to it as soon as possible. This is how this guy, whom I knew nothing about, managed to boost my self-confidence and give me a wonderful time… And the best part of my life.