I'd been using tinder since the beginning of summer. Most of my matches fizzled out, some led to one-time hookups, and one became a short-lived but very intense relationship.

My most recent story is a couple of weeks in the making. As I wrote this it spontaneously became very NSFW so beware.

At the end of October I super-like this girl. We match. I message first with something like "you're cute." Conversation came in sporadic and sassy bursts. Something told me she was curious. Or maybe she's really only vaguely interested -- enough to toy with replying but more or less indifferently. At some point, predictably, things went silent. Expecting nothing, I abandoned my "wbu" to the void.

Three weeks later she replies. After talking for a day or so we plan to meet up for a drink that weekend. Nerves on the way there. We sit next to each other in the booth. One drink becomes several becomes irresistibly brushing against each other becomes let's go dancing.

At first we just kind of swirl around each other in our neighboring bubbles of personal space. Then we go upstairs to a different room. It's darker there. Demonic industrial music is pounding every surface. You have to yell to be heard. When she pulls me in to tell me something, tipsy impulse takes over and I kiss her. Soon we can't keep our bodies off each other. I remember pressing her against the wall and jostling our drinks. Whatever, keeping the tease going -- syncing up and spinning away, leaving space for desire -- is all that matters. I pull her in to me and all but yell her ear "I want to fuck you so badly"; the bass probably drowns it out.

We dance for hours. The DJ is making me lose my mind. Devouring each other, or ourselves together. Movement is not up to you. We are sucked into it. Then we're lust machines, oblivious to the crowd even though it's also always a performance in the back of your mind.

A cab picks us up. When we get to my place nothing happens immediately. It's probably 4AM at this point. Somehow at the club she got a gash in her shin. I hold a bottle of vodka from the freezer against it and we laugh at ourselves.

We talk and kiss on the couch. It escalates...we don't even make it to the bedroom before we're tearing clothes off, though we do move there eventually. To tell the truth, in the past whenever I'd sleep with a stranger, I've had problems with performance anxiety. Especially if I drink. Sometimes only momentarily, sometimes in the most embarrassing way you can imagine. But with her it's totally different. Also not to be gross but I hadn't come for a week and she is one of the sexiest girls I've ever met. (I'm not going to put a number on it because stop objectifying women).

We fuck for around an hour, maybe two. It takes time to explore how a stranger’s body responds. Unless your sexual histories / styles uncannily match, you have to experiment to see what feels good. And usually that means you don’t come at the same time. Anyway I make her come with oral, caress her, kiss her. Then I start fucking her again. When I come I pull out and it feels like it lasts for a full minute. The sheer volume of cum is comical. It takes me like five minutes to catch my breath before I can get up to find something to clean up with. (Also I acknowledge that no condom is risky but neither of us wanted me to wear one so..)

We take a shower together and then pass the fuck out around dawn. We have sex again. She leaves and texts me when she gets home.

Ok so this has basically just become a sex story. Sorry if that’s not what ur into. But to round it out -- we’ve been seeing each other since then and physically we’ve been getting very attuned. This past weekend we came at the same time. And it feels like we’re becoming a couple even though we haven’t had the “what are we?” talk yet. I feel like I’m tiptoeing round falling in love with her. Whatever happens it feels like this isn’t just a fling. Also I wouldn't feel comfortable sleeping with anyone else / I don't have any desire to date anyone else rn ...