Date and location of meeting: New Orleans, October 2016
While I was in New Orleans, I matched with a beautiful boy. I spent the day out sightseeing in New Orleans, and had come back to my hotel after a couple of drinks on Bourbon Street and Frenchmen Street, and was preparing for bed, when I got a message from him, saying “Damn – you’re hot AF”.
It was not the kind of response that would usually elicit a response from me, but damn, Irish Boy was hot AF himself. We exchanged a few remarks, after the ‘hot AF’ opening line, and figured out our hotels were within a 20 minute walking distance of each other. Irish Boy said he could come up for a drink. And that was how I ended up with an Irish boy in my bed, at 3am.
He got up to my hotel room fairly quickly and knocked at the door. It was only at this point that I accepted the full scope of what I had done, ordering a boy up to my room, like pizza. I peered through the peephole, and saw a tall, beautiful stranger standing there, and opened up. He looked like a young Tom Cruise, with slightly tan skin, blue eyes, shaggy brown hair, and a smile that could melt butter.
He said my name when I opened the door, and asked if he could come in, and then if he could sit on the bed. I wasn’t expecting a boy who used expressions, like ‘hot af’, to be so polite. It was also when I first met him in person that I realised he was Irish, and him, that I was Australian. He remarked, “oh, your’re Australian,” as he strolled into the room, and we began an easy conversation about ourselves, our backgrounds, and what we were doing in New Orleans. Just as you would on a regular date, only we were sprawled in bed. Irish Boy was 28, from Dublin originally, but moved to NYC with an NGO he had been working for for some time. Prior to that, he’d worked in the economics department for another intergovernmental body. He was visiting New Orleans for the week, with his brother.
Not my usual type. Contrary to what I’d thought, he was soft-spoken and gentle. After 15-20 minutes of talking, he asked if he could kiss me, and I assented. He tilted my head towards him, and as he leaned into me, he said, “you’re beautiful,” before he parted his soft lips and kissed me. It was one of those kisses where you feel everything just falling away. Not long after, we were taking our clothes off, and he graced me with his beautiful body. Irish Boy is the first boy/man I have ever seen, to have an actual 6 pack. After we were both undressed, we did some naked kissing, before he decided to put it in. He came prepared, with a condom, which he put over his giant penis. And then, wildness ensued.
He was a bit rough, liked to talk dirty, spanked me a lot, put his finger inside me, and then in my mouth, and watched in a fascinated sort of way. All things I liked. We were done in an hour, or just short of an hour, and I thought he’d be on his way, but then he stayed for a little while, and I rolled onto his chest and he held me, and we discussed Trump, and Brexit, and things people don’t normally talk about after having rough, dirty sex. Before long, he slipped into the conversation that he had to be up early, and I took the cue to move away and watch him put on his clothes, and say the usual, it’s been fun, before heading out.
And when he was gone, I revelled in the space of an empty bed, albeit, one with bedsheets containing a man’s sweat.