Kinky Confessions

She squeezed my rock-hard shaft. “Be patient. I’m talking about spring break. I started a new calendar just for this, and the timing should work.”

“Hold on, what timing?”

“With my period. I need to be ready.”

“Um… by ‘ready,’” I said, deliberately neutral, “you mean ‘on the pill.’”

“Oh my gosh, no!”

All of a sudden I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“Calendar,” “timing,” and “not on the pill” all pointed to one thing, and not one that set my mind at ease.

“It’s against my beliefs,” Christy explained.

“So is sex outside of wedlock,” I snapped. Then I shook my head in irritation. “You know what they call people who practice the rhythm method?

Mommies and daddies.”

“No, it really works. Marianne’s been telling me. She—”

“Has four kids! And a husband!” I closed my eyes and tried to find an island of calm. It sank. “You need to be on the pill,” I said tersely, “or I need to use condoms.”

“Paul, I… I don’t believe in artificial birth control.”

“And I don’t believe—” Anything I said would’ve made things worse, so I shut up.

“Don’t believe what?” she said at last.

I took another breath and exhaled slowly. Don’t rush to judgment, I told myself. Always be mindful. “Easy for you to say,” I muttered to Glen,

wherever he was.

“What is?”

“Nothing,” I said at last. “I’m just—” I tried to ignore my frustration and think in positive terms. I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

“I’m sorry I brought it up,” Christy said in a small voice. “I didn’t mean to start an argument.”

And I can’t believe we’re even having an argument, I grumbled to myself, much less about this. “It’s okay,” I said aloud. “Baby steps.”

“I thought you’d be excited.”

“I am. But I’ll be honest… I really don’t like the idea of having sex without protection, without the pill or condoms.”

“And I don’t want a pill to come between us. I don’t want some rubber…

thing… either. I want to feel you.”

I didn’t need much imagination to hear “as God intended” in her tone.

“That’s why I started a new calendar for my cycle,” she insisted. “That’s how Catholic birth control works.”

Ah, yes, I thought with acid sarcasm, and it’s forced on women by celibate old men who’re afraid of progress and, more importantly, don’t bear a shred of responsibility when their so-called “birth control” doesn’t work because of basic human nature!

Christy felt my silent tirade, although she was remarkably calm about it.

“I know you think it’s stupid,” she said, “but it really works. I promise.

And… it’s the only thing I can do. If you don’t want to—”

“You know I do,” I snapped. Then I took a firmer grip on my temper and pictured my frustration level as a big thermometer. I counted down from ten and imagined the temperature falling. When I reached zero and could think clearly, I tried to see things from her perspective. I tried to be mindful. And I tried not to rush to judgment.

I didn’t like the situation any better, but my temper had cooled.

“Do you want to…?” Christy asked. She didn’t wait for an answer before she reached for my penis, which had gone soft in protest.

“Not really.” I grimaced at my tone and added, “I’m not angry. Not anymore. I’m…” Brooding? Sulking? Moping? “Feeling thoughtful.”

“Oh. Okay. I wasn’t sure. I thought…”

“I know. Do you mind if we’re just friends tonight?”

“Are we? Still friends, I mean.”

“We are,” I said, “but I’m not in the mood to fool around. Sorry.”

“Okay. But…”

“But…?”

“I might have to wake you up in the middle of the night.”

“Sure,” I said with a smile that only took a little effort.

“I have needs too, you know. And I’m very determined.”

“You are, which is one of the things I love about you. It’s also one of the things that drives me crazy. Yin and yang, I guess.”

“I’m sorry I’m so difficult.”

“Nothing worthwhile is easy.”

“Thank you. For thinking I’m worthwhile.”

“I know you’re worthwhile. And we’ll find a compromise that works. In the meantime…” I gently urged her to roll over. “I love you,” I said as she turned and scooted her hips toward me. She fit neatly in the curve of my body. “We’ll make it work. Together.”

“I hope so.”

“I know so.”

“You’re always so confident and positive.” She gave my thigh an experimental caress. “I can’t wait for spring break.”

“We don’t have to wait,” I suggested hopefully. I pressed my soft cock into her pussy from behind.

“Oh my gosh, no!” She shot forward and blocked me with her hand.

“This is danger week. I’m right in the middle. Of my cycle, I mean.”

“What about this weekend?”

“Better, but still dangerous. You’d have to pull out, and I don’t want that.”

“Okay, next week sometime.”

“No, we both have class and projects and everything else going on. I hate that we’re so busy, but…” She shrugged.