In my late 20s, I traveled all over Europe with a close girlfriend.
It was our last day in Bulgaria when an impressively well-built guy with really thick dark eyebrows walked into our hostel. I was more physically attracted to him than I’d been to anyone in a long time, and after months of backpacking without hooking up, I was downright thirsty for sex.
Looking around the tent, I could tell I wasn’t the only interested party. I’m not aggressive by nature, but I knew I had to trample the competition fast—or miss my chance.
Once my target set his bags down, I grabbed him by the arm and ushered him outside. We chatted for two minutes in the dark, during which time I learned two things about him: He was a British-Indian amateur boxer, which explained the toned body, and he was seven years older than I was. That was enough for me to yank his belt off and pull his pants down. Right outside the packed hostel, I gave him a blowjob with more gusto than I’d ever devoted to oral sex.
The moment demanded impromptu action, and it was worth it.
Who knew it could be so damn satisfying to be so generous?