Female • 24 years old • Tokyo, Japan

I was living alone in Tokyo when I met this guy on a dating website. He liked breasts. I have nice breasts. It seemed like a good match. He was older and more experienced than I was. But when I talked to him, I felt amazed by how alike we were. I might have loved him a little bit, for all his flaws. We kissed in a karaoke room at 5 a.m. I was tired and drunk, but I knew he wanted me. It excited me — I wanted him too. He touched me on a bridge in the city, pressed against the railing, his hands in my hair, and I knew this was it. I felt ridiculously, breathlessly turned-on. I could do this thing. It wasn't impossible.

We made out like teenagers on the couch in my apartment. I kissed him, and he put his hands down my pants. He put his mouth on my breasts. I had told him I was a virgin via email. It was almost impossible; I didn't think I could actually type the words. I felt incredibly awkward about it. My chosen partner was not a comforting person, either. But maybe I didn't want comfort. I wanted it to be over.

We watched TV and he held my hand and touched my hair. We started kissing, and I liked it a lot this time. I licked his collarbones and I took off my shirt. There was another first — shirtless in front of someone who wanted to have sex with me. Then he put his hands down my underwear. Another first. For a second, I was terrified. I wanted to stop him. Was I really going to do this? For that moment, I was here and alive. It felt like reality was ten times more intense than usual.

Then I realized it felt really good. He fingered me, and I wasn't sure what to do with my hands or the rest of my body. I was still a bit terrified. I ran my hands over his back and just held on. He kissed my breasts and then he went down on me. It felt almost impossibly good. I wasn't really sure if I came or not — it didn't feel like my usual orgasms did — but when he stopped touching me, I felt pretty satisfied. Then I touched him, my palm against bare skin. Before I knew it, I was giving a blowjob. After he came, we made out some more, and he fingered me a bit again. Then he wanted to fuck me. 

We started out in the missionary position, him between my legs. At first it wasn't so bad. It felt strange, but a little familiar, not much different than a few fingers inside of me. But when he pushed further inside, it started to hurt, like he was pushing against something solid, like something was ripping inside of me. I put up with it for a while, presuming that it would end, but it didn't, and I eventually pushed him away when an extra-hard thrust really hurt. 

Then we realized that it was supposed to be easier with the girl on top, so that's what we did. It still hurt at first, but I could control the amount of penetration, and maybe it had started getting better by that time anyway. I can still remember when it started feeling good. I couldn't tell at first if what I was feeling was pleasure or pain, but the sensation became a bright pleasure that ran up the back of my spine like bright sparks. 

My first feeling after we finished was relief. When he left that morning, I already suspected I'd never see him again, and I didn't.

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