My First Post-Vasectomy Fuck Was Like Losing My Virginity All Over Again
I was like a teenage boy having @sexwithalexa.
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I hadn’t gone a week without cumming in over a decade. It had been years since I’d gone even three days without shooting my load. But those were my urologist's orders. No masturbation, orgasm, or sex for at least seven days while I recovered from my vasectomy. The last thing we wanted was to undo my stitches.
“What if I have a wet dream?” I asked, aware that my body would likely clean its pipes with or without my permission.
“Well, we can’t control that now, can we?” he replied.
The week wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t that hard, even for the Boyslut. Nevertheless, by day seven rolling around, I was ready to bust. And, at the risk of sounding like a teenager romanticizing losing their virginity, I wanted it to be special—not just some random hook-up with a guy who looks far more ragged than his old Grindr photos.
And, like a virgin, I couldn’t go that rough. Yes, I was “healed,” but I still had a bit of scab on my testes and wasn’t trying to irritate the area.
But after a friend canceled on me, and I had an unexpected free night, I mosied over to Hacienda for their Happier Hour—a Thursday night sex party that starts early and ends by midnight. (Perhaps it was naive to think I’d head there, have the doctor’s permission to fuck, and not take advantage.)
There I ran into Alexa, better known by her Instagram handle, sexwithalexa, and hugged her quickly. Alexa and I had DM-ed for years but had never met IRL, as she lives in Costa Rica. When we met, I, embarrassingly, didn’t initially recognize her. To be fair, she doesn’t post much of herself on Instagram—it’s typically more sex education text. But when she said she was Costa Rican, I said, “Wait, Alexa, Alexa?”
She laughed. “Yes, Zach! That Alexa.”
“Oh my God!” I screamed and gave her a second hug, this one far bigger and more familiar than the first.
The next hour was lost talking shop. We spoke about the publications to write for, how much we charge for sex toy partnerships, the best brands to work with, and how to increase Instagram story viewership.
To be fair, it was less of a conversation and more of an interview. Alexa had questions, and I was uniquely qualified to answer them.
I liked the way Alexa spoke, bluntly yet kindly. I think it’s such a powerful combination to be gently firm, and frankly, I found it arousing. But I wasn’t sure if she was into me sexually. Usually, I’m very good at gauging interest, but I couldn’t read her. And before asking to kiss her, I wanted to be as close to certain that the answer would be an enthusiastic yes.
See, I don’t have traditional work colleagues. I have been freelance full-time for seven years and don’t work in an office. However, I have people—other S&R editors, writers, podcasters, activists, and influencers—who I deem colleagues. As a rule of thumb, I don’t sleep with them (well, most of the time). It’s not that we don’t want to, and often, I think our sex would be phenomenal. (What’s better than two [or more] sex experts who own their pleasure and know how to communicate their desires?)
But I am a fan of not shitting where I eat (which is surprising, as I can sometimes be a messy bitch). Besides, there are enough gorgeous, intelligent, and talented people to have sex with. There’s no need to complicate a potential working relationship.
But mother of God, Alexa was beautiful. Her big brown eyes, little button nose, and full lips. The way her long brown hair shined like a conditioner commercial. AND we were talking about writing and working in sex? I get horny for work talk, especially with someone who actually knows and lives my career.
But I kept it together. And when she went off to have a threesome with her two friends, I caught my breath. I figured we wouldn’t have sex, and that was for the better.
But when she emerged, her cheeks rosy from orgasm, I nearly lost it. Topless, revealing her full melon breasts, she sat down next to me. She was naked save for her black thong.
“How are you feeling?” I asked.
“Great,” she said.
We stared into each other’s eyes, and she bit her bottom lip. I moved my lips closer to hers. She leaned in. I stopped when our lips were mere inches from each other. “Can I kiss you?” I asked.
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