by K

What’s your gender? Woman
How old are you? 21
What’s your race/ethnicity? White / Caucasian
What continent do you live on? North America
What country and/or city do you live in? USA, although I travel a LOT
Highest education received: Some college (currently in college)
What’s your occupation? n/a (student)
What’s your current relationship status? Single
Religious affiliation: Agnostic
How religious are you? Not at all
What’s your sexual orientation? Heterosexual
How many sexual partners have you had in your life (including oral sex)? 1
How many hookup stories have you here posted before? 0

What Happens in Moscow

How long ago did this hookup happen? 3 months ago

What was your relationship status at the time? Same as current status

How would you best classify this hookup? Short fling

How long did you know the person before this hookup? Just met that day

Tell us about your PARTNER(S). What did they look like? How well did you know them, had you hooked up before? How/Where did you meet them? How did you feel about them before the hookup? To avoid describing his appearance too much, I’ll say what I told my friends on this subject: imagine a Soviet war movie. You know the one kid who’s like a young, innocent soldier, all pretty and blond, who you just know is either going to tragically die or have his spirit utterly broken by the horrors of war? This guy basically looked like that, although he wasn’t very innocent. He was about my height, slender and fit, with a darn nice ass, if I may say so. And I was never planning to marry him, but I did like him. I mean, he was cute, and Russian.

How/where did the hookup BEGIN? What led to it? Was planning involved? Who instigated it? The reason I want to share this story, mostly, is because the circumstances leading to it were so patently ridiculous that I still kind of can’t believe it happened. Usually I’m shy about this stuff, but who could not tell this story if they had it?
Picture this. I’m in Moscow (Moscow!!) on an internship. I’m taking morning Russian classes, spending afternoons and evenings in an office, struggling to get by on limited Russian (three years of study is not much at all), and not sleeping (if the city never sleeps, why should you?). Now, one week, the struggle I was putting myself through became too much and my body basically crashed. I spent a few days lying in bed alone with no improvement; I was staying alone at a university dorm and had no access to good food and not even a roommate to help me. I ended up being in and out of a few Russian hospitals for about three days; after that, I got some (very strong, illegal in the US) medicine that started to make me feel better, but when I went back to classes the next week, it was very hard.
So it’s a Tuesday, about 9:30pm (but not too dark yet–it’s far enough north), and I’m walking to my dorm, exhausted and dejected because my appetite still hasn’t returned, and all I’ve been able to eat this evening is the frappucino I got just before Starbucks closed, which is still in my hand.
For the record, at this time I was very much a virgin. I had a fair amount of experience making out with creeps, including one Ukrainian-Israeli fucker who went off on me calling me a bitch and a horrible person when I asked to reschedule our second date. Dodged a real bullet there. But anyway, in part due to that experience, at this point I’d resigned myself to waiting, because heck, I can satisfy myself sexually, and I’ve always believed in true love–why not wait for that?
Now, in Russia, boys have 0.00 shyness about approaching pretty girls and trying to chat them up, no matter what the time, place, or situation. So when I was very close to my dorm already–though it seemed awfully far to me, in my state–a young guy came up beside me and said, “hey devushka (the universal term of address in Russia for a young woman the speaker doesn’t know), can I just ask, what’s wrong? You look so sad.”
I explained that I wasn’t sad, just sick, that I was nauseated and tired and was heading home. That was pretty much the truth, and I figured it would fend him off, although I’d already noticed that unlike the other 8,963 boys I’d essentially fled from during my time in Russia, this one was actually pretty darn cute.
To my surprise, this boy didn’t go “ok, gross” and leave–he offered to walk me home. And I acquiesced, because, I realized, it would probably be easier to make this trek talking with a cute boy than alone. And as bad as my Russian may be, I do relish every single little chance to speak it.
I can’t tell you this boy’s name, of course, but I’ll say this much: it reminded me of a song I like. I introduced myself as well, and explained, in short, what I was doing in Russia. Now, we’d nearly made it to the dorm, but in front of that dorm is a bit of a park with benches and so on, and as we walked by it, this guy stopped me and invited me to sit and talk for a while. “If you have to throw up, I’ll hold your hair,” he said, and I was sold. I’ll admit it here: I have low standards when the boy is cute. (That’s how I ended up on a first date with that awful Israeli guy, I guess.)
I don’t remember that much about our conversation, but I’ll mention the two “tests” that I like to give Russian boys when I talk to them for extended periods. I mention these things because they tell me everything I need to know about a Russian boy’s character. The first one is gay people. This boy was shocked when I brought that up, and proceeded to say that gay people are disgusting, although, ok, lesbians can be alright sometimes. I know what that translates to–“I hate the gays, but jerk it to lesbian porn.” Minus 10,000 points, kiddo. But then when I told him just how strongly I disagree with that, and that I’m literally the straightest person in every friend group I’ve had (even my best friends from elementary school have now all come out as something), he didn’t push it. So I figured, eh, that’s far from the worst reaction I’ve gotten. The second topic is my favorite Russian pop singer. The response from 99% of Russians of both genders about him is either “but he’s awful” or “that homo?!” But this boy said, “oh yeah, he’s cool.” That doesn’t make up for the homophobia, but I was very pleased.
This boy did not speak much English at all, it seemed, but after we talked a while, he made a great effort (confirming each step of the way with me– “‘I want’ will be ‘хочу’, yes?”) to say that he wanted to kiss me. This was familiar territory, entirely expected, and I was quite relaxed now and forgetting how sick I had felt earlier, so of course I agreed.
Another fun cultural fact about Russia: there is no shame in PDA there at all. To give you an idea of its extent (I know there are multiple baseball metaphor systems–this is by my understanding) second base is perfectly reasonable to achieve on a Russian escalator going down to the metro; the babushkas might look on a bit disapprovingly, but not half as disapprovingly as if you were sitting on some stone steps (that supposedly freezes your reproductive organs. I don’t know, I don’t make this stuff up!). So shortly this boy and I were not only making out (more and more passionately by the minute) but he had guided my hand to the already conspicuous bulge in his pants. For a little while we kept kissing while I massaged his dick, and he slid both hands under my shirt to do the same to my breasts.
But if you’re hoping for the story to end with us having sex on the park bench, sorry–night had fallen entirely during this time, the summery air had chilled, and I started to shiver. I was also panicking slightly, because I had no idea how to handle this situation, pleasant as it was. I stopped and asked if I could perhaps go home now.
“Alright. I’m cold too. Why don’t I take you, see where you live?”
I said of course–I was actually pleased with this answer. And my panic was replaced with a general feeling of “Yeah! Let’s fucking do this. Just you and me, pretty blond homophobic Russian boy. Why the fuck not?”

What happened DURING the hookup? What sexual behaviors took place (e.g., oral, vaginal, anal, kinky stuff)? How did you feel during it? How did they behave toward you? Were they a good lover? What did you talk about? How did it end? This part of the story is going to be a less detailed–sorry if you came here for erotica. I stopped writing that shit with the death of fanfiction.net.
Basically, we got to my dorm room, which was small but damn clean for a Soviet-era dorm, if I do say so myself, and quickly shucked each other’s clothes off; in the end he had on only his cross pendant (99% of Orthodox Russians wear them; this is a turn-on for me) and I had my Scorpio symbol necklace (as close to religious as I’ll ever get). (Note: I KNOW, this is a very Scorpio story. Shut up.) I was very, very happy to be able to see, and not only see, but-gasp!–touch a real, living, hard penis at last.
I’d say my feelings during the experience were influenced by two aspects of my personality, the first being my straight-A-student drive to please (and corresponding paralysis when I have no idea what I’m supposed to do), and the second the somewhat scientific attitude toward sex I’ve always had. I remember when I started masturbating I was always experimenting in a most methodical sense: I’d decide in advance to change some small aspect of my methods just for a night, see if that would be better, or try to find the answer to a question: can I come multiple times, fit so many fingers, etc.
When finally faced with a real dick, I was initially very hesitant, because although I had studied the theory of sex extensively, I had no practical experience at all. It was like being assigned a research project in a bio lab. But the boy turned out to have the patience of all the best teachers I’ve had, and he carefully instructed me on how to pleasure him, first with my hands, then my mouth. Soon my mind fell into its usual analytic state–will he like it better if I do this? I recalled the tips I’d read on various sites and in articles, tried different movements with my tongue, and gauged his reaction.
As for me, when I wasn’t sucking his dick, he found my clit pretty fast and seemed to know what to do with it. I didn’t come (he probably thought I did; I did not confirm or deny), and I was actually rather relieved by that–I guess sex doesn’t feel that intimate in itself, but orgasm does: it’s when I’m at my most vulnerable. I don’t like being vulnerable. And since I was focused so hard on figuring out these new, important life skills I was learning, I didn’t have brain power to spare to deal with that.
Neither of us had a condom, so we just stuck to what I described above; no biggie. He kept giving me instructions in Russian, and guiding or showing me when my comprehension failed, which it did fairly often, because, as I said before, my Russian is middling at best, and that’s on subjects they teach in class.
I remember having a very self-aware moment when I was sitting there (on the edge of my bed, with him standing, if you must know) and trying, haltingly, to inform him that I would rather he not come in my mouth. In the pause between words (“Ok, I know the word for come, thank God, because it used to just mean finish and has only recently taken on a primarily sexual meaning, but how in the fuck do I structure the rest of this sentence, help”) I was hyper-aware that there was a dick in my face, that this dick belonged to a boy, that I was having sex with a boy, and HOW DID THIS HAPPEN? Was this real? Was I back in the hospital, in a coma? Everything was too miraculous and beautiful to be true. This moment ended when the boy understood my (probably horribly butchered) words and assured me that he would warn me before he came.
One more note. Language is a hard thing. Really hard. As hard as–I’m going to stop now. But when you’re faced with a new situation in which you wouldn’t necessarily know what to say in your native language, it can be darn near impossible to say anything remotely helpful in a second language. And that’s why, when finally I got that boy to come, I, graduate of multiple hippy schools, child of the most sex-positive possible parents, reader of sex-related media of all kinds (and former educator of the playground), friend of the BDSM club and sex education conference staff at my university, looked at the sticky white goop on my hands, then back at the boy who’d made it, and, like an abstinence-only-educated seventeen-year-old Texas prom queen, said,
“What’s this?”
The boy balked. “Um, that’s, well, that’s kids,” he said sheepishly.
“I know,” I said, now wanting to melt into the ground because of how stupid I sounded. “What do I do with it?”
Having no roommate was awful when I was sick, but here is was a boon. We hadn’t had to worry about bothering anyone, and I had my own shower. So we went there to clean up, and everything was okay.

How sexually satisfying was this hookup? Somewhat

Did you have an orgasm? No, but I was close

Did your partner have an orgasm? Yes, one

What happened AFTER the hookup? How did you feel about it the next day? What are/were your expectations/hopes for the future with this person? How do you feel about them now? Well, immediately after it, the boy left, because guests aren’t supposed to stay in the dorm past eleven, and it was already well past eleven at that point. He kissed me goodbye and asked if I was feeling better. I replied with the truth, that I most certainly was. Then with him gone, I flopped down on my bed and stared at the ceiling, repeating the phrase “what the FUCK!?” to myself until the shock of the whole thing wore off. Nothing like that had ever happened to me before, and I doubt it ever will. I’d been having a somewhat rough time in Moscow, without a concrete schedule and with few real friends, but the city always felt like a friend to me. The lights inspired me, the wind always cleared my mind, and the language on the streets was music to my ears. And now I was convinced that the city, in her eternal wisdom, had seen that I was ill and sent just the thing to cheer me up.
Long story short, before the guy left I got him to friend me on the Russian equivalent of Facebook, and during the next month, we met a few more times, really just to have sex. Neither of us wanted anything more from the other. But the sex got better. At one point he asked me to eat his ass ( and I obliged–why not? it was clean), which struck me as a little ironic, given the opinions he had previously expressed to me. “I’m not a homo or anything, though,” he explained to me after the fact. “Of course not,” I responded, internally cackling, although honestly, liking to have your asshole/prostate stimulated does not, in fact, have anything to do with being gay.
The homophobia is the only thing I feel bad about, I guess. I told my friends about this, of course, and I was very proud, but also a little apologetic, because the majority of them are queer, and thinking in retrospect, it feels a bit like I betrayed them. Of course, any Russian boy is going to be a homophobe, and part of the reason I liked this boy was that he wasn’t one of the Americophile Russians who usually talk to me, the ones who want to talk to me not because they like me, not even just because I’m a girl, but because I’m an ~American~ and they want to show off how much the know about my country and discuss Game of Thrones (I’ve seen one episode), American Horror Story (never seen it ever), and whatever shitty American band they listen to. This boy wasn’t like that, and it was a real breath of fresh air, but one that also came with some prejudice I never want to support.
But honestly, in the end, I regret nothing. If I were in the same situation again, I’d do it all over. It was great. What happens in Moscow stays in Moscow. And my friends still love me.

What precautions did you take to prevent STIs and pregnancy? (Check all that apply) No penetrative sex happened

What were your motives for this hookup? Fun, pleasure, horniness, attraction to partner(s), learning new things, experimenting

How intoxicated were you? Not at all (no alcohol or drugs)

How intoxicated was your partner? Not at all (no alcohol or drugs)

How wanted was this hookup for you at the time? Somewhat

Did you consent to this hookup at the time? I gave enthusiastic consent

How wanted was this hookup for your partner at the time? Very

Did your partner(s) consent to this hookup? They gave enthusiastic consent

To whom did you talk about the hookup? How did they react? I talked to some close friends about it. They were all highly supportive, because that’s what my friends are like, although once I told them about the whole homophobia thing, they went on to heavily criticize my taste in men. But of course, they do that anyway, plus it’s 110% deserved.

How would you best summarize people’s reactions about this hookup? Relatively positive

Did you get emotionally hurt as a result of this hookup? Not at all

Did your partner get emotionally hurt as a result of this hookup? Not at all

Do you regret this hookup? Not at all

What was the BEST thing about this hookup? Probably the fact that I actually got to suck a dick, after dreaming about it for years.

What was the WORST thing about this hookup? Well, probably just that the guy was a homophobe. And that I suck at Russian. (No pun intended, but wow, that came out great!)

Has this hookup changed the way you think about casual sex, sexuality, or yourself in general? I never thought I’d have sex outside of a relationship. But here you go, I’ve told the story, you know what happened. We can chalk this up on the list of things I never thought I’d do but just went along with because why the hell not, it’s fun!

All things considered, how POSITIVE was this experience? Very positive

All things considered, how NEGATIVE was this experience? A little negative

What are your thoughts on casual sex more generally, the role it has played in your life, and/or its role in society? What would you like to see changed in that regard? I think that any consenting adults who want to have sex with each other should be able to, regardless of the situation, as long as they aren’t disturbing others. There’s still a bit of a stigma on casual sex, but I think it’s being lifted, so I’m optimistic. People talk like the latest generation invented it, but they’re wrong–folks have been hooking up with no strings attached since time immemorial. It’s just that as the stigma is lifted, it becomes more visible. We just have to get everyone more used to the idea that this is normal.
As for me, I guess I’d be open to doing something like this again. But I admit I’m sort of hoping I find a boyfriend one of these days. Sex is great, but I look forward to the romance in my future a lot more.

What do you think about the Casual Sex Project? I think this is awesome. I’m pretty shy, but I decided to add my story because I think it’s hilarious and it seems to heavily contrast a lot of the others on here. So many seem to be written to be sexy, and a lot of the posters have had a lot of partners. This guy has been my only one so far, and this whole thing is really more on the funny side, especially since I’m incapable of writing in any other voice. Anyway, sharing stories like this is good–people can read them and be encouraged, validated, turned on, or just made to laugh. And it’s good to study the sex habits of diverse groups–I do love the science of sex. How wonderful to help a project that’s finding out more!

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