Risk

“Wow, I appreciate the honesty.” 

I’m never really sure if this kind of response is intended to be a yes or a no. I always assume it’s a way to be like oh my god you’re so brave but um…thanks, but no thanks. 

I wait a few minutes to see if he’ll say anything else. I sip my cabernet sauvignon and try not to dwell on it too much. Eight minutes go by, it’s officially midnight. Welp, I figure it’s time to pick out what vibrator to use tonight instead. As I lean over to open the drawer to my nightstand, my iPhone vibrates, lighting up with a message: “I’m still down tho.”

~~~

I am wine drunk on a Tuesday night, alone in my East Village apartment. In addition to being alone, I am also very bored and extremely horny. So naturally, I open up Hinge. I matched with this really hot guy, Evan, the day before, and haven’t responded to his most recent message yet. He’s a year younger than me, but exactly my type—super skinny with dark brown eyes, dark hair, and fully tatted. A huge Japanese-style flower tattoo covers his left leg, and a bunch of random tattoos dot his arms. He has cool style, a major turn on for me—a very New York, streetwear kind of vibe, but there’s a little nerdy side to him, too. His main photo is an ironic selfie using one of those Instagram filters that give you freckles on your face and butterflies around your head. If I’m being honest, that photo is the main reason I matched with him. I just thought it was hot. After a few flirty exchanges, I decide to go for it: 

“Wanna hookup right now?” I hit send.

“Absolutely,” he responds.

“Cool cool. I’m HSV2+ btw just FYI.”

~~~

There’s an added layer when it comes to casual sex as a herpes-positive person. Although herpes is so common, not a lot of people are educated about it. When disclosing my status, I’m usually prepared for the worst while hoping for the best. Even with almost a full year under my belt since my herpes diagnosis, disclosing to potential partners that I have genital herpes is still incredibly nerve-wracking. This evening though, I have more than enough liquid courage to disclose candidly. 

Getting rejected after disclosing your herpes to someone you want to date seriously sucks. Going out with someone a few times and getting feelings for them, only to be rejected right after disclosing is quite literally one of the worst possible feelings. Rather than rejected, I should say ghosted—I’ve more often been ghosted than received an actual verbal rejection. I’m not even sure which one is worse, though. It’s like, how can I be rejected after sharing something that’s so common! It’s literally the same thing as cold sores, mine just happen to flare up on my vulva. Big deal. I can bet most of the time that those guys haven’t even been tested before. Because of this, I enter into dating and hookups casually, and if something comes of it, then cool. When I’m just trying to get dicked down, the stakes aren’t as high. I’ll be over it by the morning. 

~~~

“I’m still down tho.”

Evan goes on to reassure me, saying he knows a bit about it and that it’s really not a big deal. We’ll use protection anyways (and he even says he knows he can get it when using a condom but he still doesn’t care)! He also mentions he got tested recently and doesn’t have any STIs—major points for him on that.

It’s always a sigh of relief when my potential hookup is down (and already knowledgeable about how herpes works so I don’t have to play doctor and explain everything). But Evan’s response is above and beyond; I’m so turned on I basically already orgasmed. 

I check the time—it’s almost 12:30—so I get ready quickly. I douse myself in coconut oil, dab some lavender oil behind my ears, touch up my mascara, and throw on my favorite matching black lace bra and high-waisted underwear set. I grab my black leggings that are still lying on my bedroom floor from when I got home from work a few hours ago. I scan through my closet, trying to find a top that is the perfect mix of slutty and casual, super hot, but not trying too hard. I find a very tight and very cleavage-y maroon cotton top. The lace from my bra peeks out the top of my shirt just a bit. Perfect.

I grab a bunch of condoms and dental dams from my nightstand and throw them in my canvas bag. I glance back at my nightstand that holds my extensive sex toy collection. Fuck it, I pick up my pink Babeland bullet vibrator and add that to my bag, too.

I lace up my Doc Martens while I order an Uber to his place in Crown Heights. My driver is four minutes away so I take one last large chug from my wine, text Evan I’m on my way, and head down from my fifth floor walk-up.

The pandemic and quarantine have really put a damper on my sex life (obviously). As I quietly ride in my Uber, it occurs to me I haven’t had a random hookup like this since way before quarantine, even before my herpes diagnosis. I’ve had a handful of hookups since, but nothing completely random. This makes me particularly excited but also really nervous. There’s a part of me that is super excited about fucking someone I literally don’t know at all, and then there’s also a part of me that knows this is super risky and could potentially end very poorly, whether this person ends up being a catfish, or the sex is bad, or worse—but the risky part is also what turns me on the most. 

There’s always a risk. I’ve had some of the best sex of my life with complete randos. Knowing I’ll never see them again and the fact that they know nothing about me makes me feel like I can be so much more open sexually, like I’m living out a sex goddess fantasy. Of course, after getting to know someone I want to date, I’ll be open about my kinks and whatnot, but in the case of randos there’s no pressure since I’ll never see them again. I’ll just live on in their memory as their ultimate kinky sex goddess experience. As we drive through Williamsburg then Bed-Stuy, all the way down Nostrand Ave, I can feel my heart starting to pound; we’re almost there. 

Since it’s almost 1:30 am, Evan’s neighborhood is eerily quiet. I double check the address and text him I’m outside. Barely two minutes go by before I hear him come down the stairs. He opens the door and gives a little shy wave. Okay thank god he’s real and looks like his photos, I think to myself. Actually, as he gets closer, he’s even hotter in real life. Hell yeah. His dark, wavy shoulder length hair is tucked in a low ponytail. He isn’t particularly tall, maybe my height or an inch taller, definitely 5’8” max. He’s super skinny, I can see it even in his oversized black hoodie. I also note he’s wearing the ultimate “slut” uniform for a guy: grey sweatpants. 

Sometimes meeting up with people from dating apps is kinda awkward at first, but Evan and I instantly click. No awkward pauses, a ton of chemistry— we’re both being super handsy from the second we’re near each other.

We walk up two flights to his apartment and he mentions his roommate is away for a few days so we have the place to ourselves. He unlocks the door to the apartment and guides me directly into his bedroom.

I sit down on his bed and immediately begin to unlace my combat boots. Evan sits at his desk and opens his laptop. He puts on a very chill and moody Spotify playlist that starts with Space Song by Beach House. He opens his drawer, and pulls out a grinder, some papers, and a bag of weed.

He turns his head towards me and asks, “you wanna smoke?”

“Yeah, I’m down.” I’m already drunk and know being cross faded might push it, but I also know sex when you’re high takes it to a whole other level. It makes me so much more relaxed and makes every sensation so much more intense and pleasurable. 

While Evan rolls the joint, I lean back on his bed and survey his very small and very New York literal box of room, relishing in the suspense of what we’re about to do. The space is lit by one lamp and some white Christmas lights. Other than his small desk, the room is mostly just bed. That’s all we need.

My suspense turns to a subtle anxiety, and I figure I should bring up the herpes thing again, just to make sure we’re on the same page. “Do you have any questions about herpes or anything?” I ask calmly.

“Nah I don’t. I used to date someone who had it. I know it’s not really a big deal,” Evan says. “It’s funny though, I don’t usually have random hookups like this,” he says, as he takes a hit of the joint.

He pauses to let the smoke sit in his chest for a moment, then lets out a long exhale. “But I like the risk, you know?” I watch as the cloud of smoke travels out of Evan’s window and into the night air.

He hands me the joint and I take a decent sized puff and then face the window to blow the smoke out.

“Same, risky and random situations like this are such a turn on for me,” I say with a little laugh. 

He moves from his desk chair to the bed, his thighs just brushing mine. I look up at his eyes— we’re both pretty high.

“Oh yeah?” he says as he leans over and starts kissing my neck. I exhale and gently grab his face to start making out with him. 

He bites my bottom lip while he moves his hands down my back, lightly brushing through my long wavy hair. He keeps moving his hands down until he wedges them between the mattress and me to grab my ass. I moan and glide my tongue into his mouth; he moves his tongue hard on mine. We continue to make out heavily for a couple of minutes, completely smudging my rose colored lipstick. I shift so I can sit on his lap. His arms stretch behind him to hold himself up as I start grinding on his cock, I can feel how hard he is through his sweatpants. 

He slides his hands up my shirt and expertly unhooks my push-up bra. I rip off my shirt and Evan immediately pulls off my bra and tosses it on the floor, caressing my tits. He starts flicking his tongue around my left nipple with my other breast still in his hand.

I rip off his hoodie, and run my hands down his stomach, which is covered by a giant tiger tattoo. I reach for his cock and look up at him.

“Can I suck your dick?”

He nods. I kneel on the floor and pull down his sweatpants and boxers and start sucking on the tip of his cock while I jack him off. “Fuck,” he moans. I let some of my spit drip down his dick slowly while I continue to lick the tip. We make eye contact and I start to jack him off even faster. I move my head down to suck his balls with my hand still around him. I come up, then slide his whole cock into my mouth, slightly gagging on him. I start to move my head up and down, inhaling through my nose when I get to the base of his cock. Wow, the whole skinny guy, big dick thing is real, maybe that’s why they’re my type, I think to myself. 

He grabs my hands to raise me back onto the bed and gets on top of me. He slides my leggings off, followed by my black lace thong, revealing my freshly waxed vulva, with just a landing strip (I was really excited to show this off since I waxed it myself so perfectly just a few days prior).  

“I have dental dams if you want to use them,” I offer.

“Nah, you good,” he says, as he puts his hands over mine and squeezes them, his nonverbal way of telling me to relax.

“Wow, you have such a pretty pussy,” he sighs as he moves my thighs apart. He gently massages my clit with his thumb—my pussy is dripping.

He moves his head down and kisses my inner thighs. He starts licking my clit with soft but repetitive motions while fingering me, hitting right at my G-spot. I moan. 

I can feel myself about to come, but I really want to feel his dick inside me. 

I lean up a bit and grab his face, “I want you to fuck me, now.”

He smiles and leans over me to get a condom from his nightstand. 

“Wait—let me grab my vibrator also.” I say as I reach behind him to grab my bag from the floor.

Evan takes the condom out and puts the wrapper between his teeth while he slides the condom down his cock. He’s still holding the condom wrapper in his mouth, which he clearly does not realize.

I laugh and take the wrapper from his mouth and kiss him.

 “Oops,” he says and laughs. Our faces are still touching each other.

I turn on my vibrator and hold it to my clit while he penetrates me, my legs draped over his shoulders. My bullet vibrator is small enough that it perfectly fits between us without getting in the way of his dick entering me. I put it on my favorite setting: the constant vibration at medium speed. I can feel the sensations traveling all the way up my legs, my lower stomach, and my pussy. Having his cock in me at the same time is almost too much.

“Fuck, oh my god,” I moan, overwhelmed by the sensations.

My orgasm is building and I feel myself go over the edge, cumming so hard, my legs start to shake. Evan starts fucking me harder, energized by my moaning and my orgasm, his cock feeling all of my muscles repeatedly contract. He cums right after me.

Both of us are sweaty and exhausted. I notice some of my glittery highlighter smeared on his face, which I think is cute so I decide not to tell him. We cuddle with each other for a while, and I’m starting to get so comfortable I start dozing off. I’m also starting to sober up a little bit, so I lean over to check my phone, reluctantly entering reality again. It reads 3:16 am. 

“Hey, I have work tomorrow, I really should head out soon.”

He pulls me closer and kisses my shoulder.

“Ugh bummer. But okay, I’ll walk you downstairs.” 

We get dressed and head downstairs. As we wait for my Uber, he lights up an American Spirit and puts his arm around my waist.

“I didn’t expect to vibe this much, you’re really cool,” he says, releasing a puff of smoke into the air.

“Yeah same, this was a lot of fun,” I say.

He tosses his cigarette and we make out until I hear my car pull up. We hug goodbye and as I get into my Uber, he says, “Let me know when you’re home safe.”

As we drive across the Williamsburg Bridge, I lean my head back and close my eyes, still kind of high, a little bit drunk, and totally satisfied. 

Photo by Jeff Buckholz