Sex was something I hadn’t had much experience in yet. Not because I was saving myself or anything like that—it just few and far between. I’ve always been a little shy, especially when it comes to dating, so things never really progressed more than oral and that will still rare. Anytime the topic came up, people either reacted awkwardly or made me feel like it was a big deal, which didn’t help.

A few weeks ago, I went out drinking with some friends. One of the guys brought along a plus-one—a woman named Mackenzie. I’d never met her before, but she’d apparently hung out with the group a couple of times. She was confident, funny, and seemed to have this natural charisma that made her the center of attention.

As the night went on, Mackenzie fit right in, laughing and joking with everyone. At one point, she caught me looking at her and gave me this knowing smile. I wasn’t sure what to make of it, so I just looked away, trying not to seem obvious.

Eventually, the conversation shifted to dating and relationships. One of my friends, always quick to stir the pot, casually mentioned that I hadn’t been all the way with a girl yet.

Mackenzie raised an eyebrow, turning her attention to me. “Really?” she asked, her tone more curious than surprised.

I shrugged, feeling a little embarrassed. “Yeah, just hasn’ yet.”

She smirked slightly. “Interesting.”

After that, Mackenzie stayed close, chatting with me more and throwing in the occasional teasing comment. I was starting to relax a bit, but as the night wore on, something felt off. My head was getting cloudy, and my body felt heavier than it should have given how much I’d had to drink.

At some point, Mackenzie leaned in and said, “You look like you’ve had enough for tonight. How about I get you home?”

I was too out of it to respond properly. Before I knew it, one of my friends chimed in, laughing. “Yeah, let Mackenzie take care of you. You’re in good hands.”

The next thing I remember, we were in her car. The drive was a blur; I couldn’t focus on anything. When we got to her place, she helped me inside, steadying me as I stumbled.

“You’re fine,” she said softly. “Just let me take care of you.”

She led me to her couch and sat me down, her hand lingering on my shoulder. My mind was spinning, and my body felt like it wasn’t fully under my control. She leaned in, kissing me softly at first, then deeper.

I tried to pull back, but my movements were sluggish. She smiled, brushing a hand through my hair. “Relax,” she whispered. “I’ve got you.”

Her hands started to explore, unbuttoning my shirt and tracing over my chest. I tried to say something, but the words wouldn’t come out clearly. Before I knew it, she was straddling me, her confidence making it clear she was in control.

“Just let go,” she said, her voice low and soothing. “You’ll be fine.”

The rest of the night was a haze of overwhelming sensations. She moved against me with a deliberate, commanding rhythm, guiding me through every moment. Any attempt I made to resist or regain control was met with her calm, reassuring words. She knew exactly what she was doing, and she wasn’t letting me go until she was finished.

When it was over, I lay there completely spent, barely able to keep my eyes open. She held me for a while, stroking my hair and whispering things I couldn’t fully process until I drifted off.

The next morning, I woke up with a pounding headache and a body that felt like it had been through a marathon. Mackenzie was already up, sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee. When she saw me stir, she gave me a sly smile.

“Morning,” she said. “How do you feel?”

I didn’t know what to say. The details of the night before were still blurry, but one thing was certain: I wasn’t the same person I’d been when I walked into that bar.

This is the first time I’ve ever posted about this as it happened around 3 years ago. Using throw away and names have been changed!