I’m going to talk about both my sex life and the inside of my mind for a moment.
–
For someone who claims to be intelligent, a possessor of at least one advanced degree and years of teaching others, I can be very dumb. And for all I talk about sex, I’m not having that much of it.
I can be reckless when it comes sex, on the rare occasion I have it. Both emotionally and physically. Add my own high levels of anxiety and over active imagination and I’m suffering from a serious bout of crazy.
I met someone a couple of weeks ago and broke my no sex on the first date rule. Not completely intentional (scan my stories lately and I’m sure you’ll piece together what’s up), but when I’m part of my demise I have to own it.
Sex still holds a level of sacredness for me. I abstain for reasons that have a lot to do with connection than a need for sexual satisfaction.
We’ve gotten together since then because I can’t function as a hit it and quit it type. He managed to slip by my defenses and leave me feeling good without the extra issues.
Our first encounter involved protected sex, but after some prompting from me to put a damn condom on. I had to get my sex addled brain together enough to tell him to get his cock out and some protection on. While bare feels nice, my lack of sex means a lack of a need for birth control.
If you wanna cum without a rain jacket, it can’t be inside me. I’d discussed the pullout method use in our later sexual encounters, but I’m just babbling.
I hold a deep deep sense of paranoia when it comes to getting pregnant. You have no idea how crazy I get over it. Even the slightest unprotected contact has me nervous.
My rational brain tells me that my chances are nearly non-existent with so little contact. That doesn’t stop my irrational self from shouting doomsday messages and sending my body into a hormonal tail spin. I can understand how the body works on one hand, but count down the days to my period and examine every sign.
Let’s not touch on how he complicated things by revealing something about his life to me.
This is why I stick to just spanking and no sex. I don’t like the complications it brings. I require too much connection for it and can’t find enough satisfaction from the act without it.
Then there’s this fact: even at 30 with a good job, what the HELL would I do if I was pregnant??
Again my rational and irrational side fight. One side knows I’d handle it fine. The other side sees nervous breakdowns and disappointment in myself (and from others).
This is only half the thoughts tripping through my mind. My hormonal, emotional, irrational, female brain.
I’ll be back to my celibate self soon. My rational self may take time to reappear. Stick to what keeps me happy emotionally. A red ass is enough.
