Dani Belle lost her virginity at 27. Now she’s on a mission to make up for lost time. Each week, she’s taking us inside her wet and horny journey that is Dani’s SEXPLORATION. (This is a true story.) Read part 1, part 2 and part 3.

I was half-naked on some guy’s couch when I realized there was no turning back. Not that I wanted to; I’d gone there for one thing and I wanted it to happen just as much as he did. There was only one way to proceed.

Remember the infamous hand job-in-the-car guy, Jonny? Well, he was nice enough, he knew his way around, but we’d determined our schedules would never line up. So Jonny was mostly out – and I needed more players.

That’s how I ended up on Tinder.

I knew that Tinder was a place for hook-ups and fun and not typically for relationships. As someone not looking for a relationship, this was the proverbial pot at the end of my rainbow. I signed up for Tinder, messaged a few guys with nice pictures and witty profiles, but had no idea if my plan was actually going to work out. Surely, it wasn’t that easy, not after 27 years of waiting. I messaged and responded to a bunch of people – some nice and some duds who couldn’t carry on a conversation. And then came the karaoke legend/taco enthusiast, Greg.

We were maybe five exchanges in when he asked if he could, “taste my taco.” Normally, that kind of line wouldn’t work on me, but for the last four hours, I’d been talking to men and was trying to get to that point. The honesty was refreshing. We talked on some points – his house, the time, not sex, just oral – and I had this moment (many moments) in between the discussion and actually going over when I almost changed my mind. This was crazy. I was going to some guy’s house to exchange some oral.

My best friend probably got sick of me texting her. What if he was gross? “You can leave at any time,” she urged me. What if he isn’t good? “You never know unless you go.” What if I don’t like this whole thing? “You will.” What if he’s a murderer? “Text me your location.” And so I put on some cute underwear and went to his house.

He was just as nervous as I was. (Well, maybe not “just as,” because I was one wrong move away from bolting.) He assured me he’d never done this before either and we had a lengthy discussion about it. (I’m going to believe him, but who knows if it’s true? Ultimately, it doesn’t matter.) Once some of the awkwardness passed and we were about a quarter of the way into a movie, he told me I had way too many clothes on. I nervously took some of them off, while trying to push away my insecurities and be the most confident version of myself that ever existed. It’s easier, somehow, when you don’t know somebody. There’s no expectation there. He smiled, he seemed to enjoy it, and so I let myself enjoy it too, and he kissed me.

I was half-naked on some guy’s couch, just as planned. He moved to the floor and slipped off my underwear and he went right to work. Four stars all around, I’d say.

At the end of the night, I left very happy that I hadn’t talk myself out of it. Tinder served its purpose; Greg was indeed a taco enthusiast. It was crazy and not something I’d imagined I’d ever do, but then I did it – and all I have to say about it is thanks, Tinder (and taco enthusiasts everywhere).