By: Zachary Zane
My perpetual resting b*tch face makes it tough for men to come up to me and flirt (or at least that’s what I tell myself). So when they do, I’m automatically impressed, and to be honest, once you approach me, I’m kind of easy.
I’m flattered almost instantaneously. You whisper a few sweet nothings into my ear and tell me I’m beautiful, and my pants are down at my ankles.
This guy though, my god was he smooth. So smooth it bordered on slimy. Somehow though, he managed to walk that line meticulously.
He came up to me, with this backwards hat, toothy smile, and piercing blue eyes and commented on my “fabulous” slutty undies. (It was underwear night at the club.) I smiled and thanked him.
He said he’d been watching me dance, and had been waiting for a free moment to approach me. (He was bartending.) We briefly schmoozed back and forth, all the while, his baby blues were staring into my dilated pupils.
Before he left to get back to work, he ran over to the bar, scribbled down his name and number on a napkin and handed it to me.
That’s all it took for me to eat him up. Retro, I thought to myself, He saw me on my phone, so he knows he could easily plug in his number. I just love how he wrote it out. There was something endearing about his old fashioned approach.
Later that night, I was grabbing pizza with a few friends, and stumbled into him. He joined for a slice, but left shortly after. I thought I had maybe screwed up. Why did he leave so soon? Did I say something wrong? I thought we were going home together.
But the next day he texted me saying how great it was to meet. (This is after I texted him my name that evening.) It didn’t take long before we were sending slutty pic after slutty pic. (Nothing too revealing though).
He started telling me how just in the 30 minutes we hung out, he loved my energy. He told me he really thinks we’d get along.
I’m melting inside, but also trying not to get too excited. Just have sex first, and let’s see how that goes. We can take it from there. I thought to myself.
After a few nights texting back and forth, we met up at his place. He cooked me dinner, and we talked about all the boring first-date type stuff.
The whole time, he’s being adorable, looking into my eyes, cocking his head ever-so slightly, giving me this smile that screams I want to rip off all your clothing, but I also think you’re the cutest man I’ve ever met.
Now I’m just smitten; that is until the conversation goes down an unexpected path. He reveals to me that he used to be a famous p*rn actor and director. I try to keep my cool, but to no avail. My mouth drops to the floor.
Somehow though, I manage to keep my responses monosyllabic, saying a lot of “Yup” and “Hm,” even though I had a number of questions I wanted ask him about his experience. But I knew, on a first date, he didn’t want to be bombarded by a million questions about his past p*rn life.
As dinner begins wrapping up, I begin to get the pre-sex jitters. Holy sh*t, I’m about to have sex with an adult film star. I’m going to get nervous and not be able to get it up. This is going to suck. Why did I do this? Why am I here?
Just as the insidious flood of thoughts start swarming my mind, he clears my dinner plate from the table. As he does, he puts his hands under my shirt and begins kissing my neck. My nerves calm themselves at the touch of his tender lips, and when he invites me back upstairs, I’m ready for action.
We undress, and he’s well… he’s endowed…very well endowed. It shouldn’t have been a big shocker, given his previous profession, but I’m freaking out. I was not prepared to get impaled tonight, better let him know I’m topping. Oh Jesus, I hope that’s okay.
So I tell him I’m not looking to die, and he laughs and understands. We then go at it.
It is… amazing. He is amazing.
He’s clean as a whistle and tastes like butterscotch. He rides like a champion, and he orgasms on command, repeatedly. I’ve never even seen a guy do that in p*rn. He is literally superhuman.
But while all of that was no doubt impressive, it wasn’t why the sex was some of the best I’ve ever had. We’ve all been with men who are packing.
We’ve all met that power bottom who rides better than cowboys at a rodeo show, and we’ve all seen men shoot bigger loads than a sperm whale. Having that all together, yes, of course, very arousing, but it wasn’t the reason it was phenomenal.
Related: Definition of a true power bottom
It was phenomenal because in just two short interactions, he made me feel wanted. He did this by being candid and not playing hard to get.
Immediately, he said he liked me and that he thought I was one of the most gorgeous men he’d ever seen. Immediately, he said our connection was palpable. Maybe it’s because I can be naive, but immediately, I believed him.
I don’t think it’s a stretch to assume that being an adult video star, he’s probably pretty confident sexually. He knows he’s a beast in the sheets, and he knows he can satisfy any man. But his confidence carried itself outside of the bedroom. He wasn’t nervous when he spoke to me.
He was honest and upfront (without being creepy). He said he liked me really early on, letting his guard down. Somehow being in sexually vulnerable positions carried over to his capacity to be emotionally vulnerable.
In hindsight, I realized it wasn’t that he was so smooth or fake, like I originally thought. I had just never met a man who was so unabashedly himself. He was so true to what he said and not afraid to put himself out there so quickly.
And it manifested itself sexually, by feeling comfortable with someone pretty quickly. That comfort, is what led to some of the best sex I’ve had.
Which is why from now on I’m gonna embrace my inner p*rn star. I know he’s in there, and he’s dying to get out. I even named him, Johnny Cox.
I’m hoping like the boy I met, I can start wooing men off their feet by making them feel both comfortable and wanted.
Then, I can start having p*rn star sex on the first date without ever actually being a p*rn star. And let’s be honest for a second.
Wouldn’t that be pretty damn nice?
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