“Do you want to try me?” Willem* asked in his charming Dutch accent, as if he were asking if I wanted fries with that. I was behind him in the bed, so he couldn’t see the look on my face when I paused to consider. I know, I know: But you have to understand, the man had sexed me already—we’d been in the fuck cave of my West LA bedroom for hours, letting the sun do its thing outside while we shut the curtains and did our thing inside.
We did our thing with him on his knees, begging for mercy as my fingers grazed the back of his throat. We did our thing with his cock in my pussy, a toy for me to use however I pleased. And we had just finished doing our thing with up his ass when he asked if I’d like to try fisting (for the first time ever).
So my initial, internal reaction was: But then again, So I gave an enthusiastic —because of course I did. My whole kinkship with Willem was an enthusiastic yes. We found each other on one of the , Feeld.
He was an experienced dom in his late thirties who had two more months in the country before heading home to The Netherlands (where he, his girlfriend, and their lived together). I was a horny sex writer who thought two months sounded like the perfect amount of time for my heart (and pussy) to explore with someone and not get too attached. I was by the end of our first date and, soon after, we found ourselves in a loving .
We were fucking both of us tall, fit, and skilled at For weeks, I got to enjoy leaning into my with all six.