My Story

The first time I had sex I was eighteen, and a serious relationship came about, then came a pleasurable breakup, and then followed a period of random sex. Yes, the fact that right after my breakup I left for France for Erasmus made the whole thing much easier.

The first time I had an orgasm I was alone, lying on the bed in the tiny room of the residence hall where I lived in a small town in France. The vibrations of the massage device, which a bisexual Spanish man had given me as a gift for my twenty-second birthday, made me cum within a few minutes.

Grabbing the machine and putting one of the cheap condoms on it felt incredibly automatic, even though porn with this kind of content had never been to my liking.

From that day on, using the vibrations of the massage device to bring myself to orgasm became a daily habit. Some days I watched porn to get myself turned on, other days my thoughts were enough.

However, my repressed desire for a man to make me come with his cock was in my head and haunted me. It was something I envied and never admitted to other girls.

I named my attempt to come during sex with a man “less vib, more dick”, and the plan was to find men with as much experience in sex as possible, and it was based on the logic of “the more experience my sexual partner has, the more likely he is to make me come”.

I chose to use s******** because it was the only site I was sure I would find the kind of men I was looking for: older in age and with a lot of experience.

The range was large, and at first I came across many rough and strange ones. However, from the moment I started dedicating more time and familiarizing myself with the scene, things began to go better. There were all kinds of men: married, divorced, single, vulgar, shy, men looking for company, others looking for sex, and others looking for hotel fuckings on weekends.

But they all had in common how much I enjoyed the interaction with them. I fell in love with the way they touched me, but without using their hands, and with the way they left me breathless but full of vitality and lust. I liked attracting them, approaching them, flirting with them, and reliving this whole game of flirting over and over from the beginning. I liked discovering the preferences of the men I got to know through this site. I realized that over time I started becoming good at “reading” them and understanding what their real desires were.

The scene wasn’t just having sex with them exactly the way they liked, but also included the following: flattery, feigned interest, validation, conversation, emotional support, and sometimes even emotional abuse. In exchange, they gave me expensive gifts, paid for dinners, hotels, and plane tickets. The men I met thought they wanted me to be myself with them, but the truth is that wasn’t the case. They wanted me to be who they wanted me to be. They wanted someone else. They didn’t want me to be myself.

All this lasted about a year. I’m not sure why I stopped. Maybe I just got bored.