I've never had a one night stand. Despite how sexually liberated and free I feel, it's a realm I've never dared to enter. And not for lack of opportunity, just for lack of thought. As an emotional person, I feel things deeply and I believed that a one night stand would do nothing for me. I would have the physical and not the emotional, which takes a toll on the overall quality of a sexual experience.
Even in my casual experiences, emotion has lived there. It's why sex with the same person gets better over time. It's why my most powerful orgasms unearth and unravel. It's why I feel full instead of empty afterwards. The emotion is there, so the connection runs deep.
But my mind on the matter changed this summer. It was blown. Thoroughly and completely.
New Orleans has always been a city of magic, so I shouldn't have been surprised by the transformative experience that enlightened my life and my perspective on hit it and quit it sex. It was a work trip, but he insisted on bringing me pleasure. I had been in town for a couple of days for the festival, and when I met him I was absolutely exasperated by my schedule and made that sentiment clear in the backseat of his Lyft.
A vent session about work quickly became a conversation about oral sex and the importance of reciprocity with our perfect stranger, all because of a DJ Khaled track that popped up on the radio. It wasn't a surprise to me when he dropped me in front of the Ace Hotel that he insisted I take his number so that he could be a tour guide and show me the city. I said okay. Aside from my crab roll I devoured for lunch, it was one of the highlights of that day.
On the eve of my flight back to Atlanta, I decided to take him up on his offer. I had seen the city but so far underneath a very curated lens and I wanted to be with the people, so I decided to skip Sunday night's concert series for fun with Mr. Tour Guide aka Bearded Bae. He picked me up from my hotel and asked me what I wanted. I told him about a weak ass Hurricane I had a couple of hours before and told him I wanted something frozen. He had the perfect place in mind.
With our frozen margaritas in hand, we strolled down Bourbon, immersed in jazz being played in the outside air and impromptu twerk sessions and tangos. It was the laughter and the fun I had been missing. And his smile was everything. As a true lightweight, I was tipsy halfway through my cup, but it didn't stop the conversation from flowing as we gave one another our backstories and present truths. He made me feel an ease that was reminiscent of knowing someone for years versus days and a few text messages here and there.
I don't know if either of us knew sex would be in the cards for us, but after we left a rooftop bar and he pulled me into his arms for a kiss that made my knees buckle and my back arch simultaneously, I was sold.
I wanted to give myself over to the moment.
Despite what my brain told me about how I felt about one-nighters or casual sex with someone I barely knew, I wanted to be true to the way he made me crave and melt with lust and desire. I didn't realize it until then, but I had been fantasizing about juices dripping in his beard since the first time I laid eyes on him. I had just been telling myself "no" until I said "yes."
And that night, I kept saying "yes".
As he grabbed my booty and bit my lip to access my tongue. He suggested a quick stop to the store to get condoms.
As he followed me into the elevator of my hotel and continued to pepper me with hot kisses, I was a faucet by the time we entered my room. We took turns undressing each other and I caressed his caramel skin before he picked me up and walked us to the bed, guiding the length of my body against my disheveled sheets. It was such a gentle careful act and it surprisingly took me higher.
He fulfilled my dripping beard fantasy briefly before I tapped him, begging him to end my misery and grant me what he promised me: Him.
When he penetrated me, I felt like I was flying. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the thought of every fantasy I had envisioned about him in the past couple of days being fulfilled. Maybe it was a combination of them both. All I knew was everything was so heightened. "Give it to me," he kept whispering in my ear in between languid, purposeful thrusts.
I came undone almost instantly. And after the third or fourth time, he followed me over pleasure's edge, announcing his orgasm. Music to my ears.
We cuddled briefly before he had to bounce to attend a club outing with his homeboys, but he promised to be back, if he was welcomed. I agreed even though I didn't believe he'd return. But hours later, he did. We held one another for the remainder of the late night early morning we shared together, pressing play from where we had paused. He overslept and missed his early a.m. shift at the clinic but unbegrudgingly helped himself to seconds with a round of morning sex before I had to catch my flight.
It was a night to remember and one I reminisce on often. Not only because the pleasure I experienced was one for the books, but also because it changed my stance on how I thought about one night stands altogether. I understand them now. It's not about time, it's about feeling. And I think although it's a feeling that's coursed through my veins before, it's another part of me that I inherently swallow because as a woman, it's frowned upon to move through the world a certain way.
No matter how much we lift it up and bear the weight of it on our backs.
So, the next time you lay eyes on someone you think could take you there but push the fantasy from your thoughts because of logic and reasoning, consider paying that little voice dust and let yourself be enticed by the flow of going with it. When you allow yourself to be true to the moment and to the energies that pull you two together like a magnet, the universe rewards you.
I never thought a perfect stranger could ever make me come, let alone make me feel him so deeply both emotionally and sexually. I was wrong.
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