We were sharing a blanket on the couch in a room full of people. It started out as hand stuff, still planted on the loveseat, yet concealed by the cover. The thought didn’t even cross my mind that everyone in the room could be watching.

The time frame is unclear, but once he started to get worked up, our friends started to take notice of his moaning and craving in his eyes. One by one, they left the room.

The spontaneity of the situation was overwhelming. I wasn’t sure what the next move was going to be. Was I going to let him finish alone, or was I going to go for a homer?

I pushed him into his room and shut the door.

Even though the season had just changed to spring, the temperature in his bedroom rose quicker than I anticipated, so I told him to take off my pants.

That night was the first time I had ever thought about doing sexy stuff with this guy. It was the first time I even thought about him with his clothes off. He took his clothes off, and I didn’t have to wonder anymore.

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Soon, we were at the point of entry.

As any other respectable man would, he asked, “You wanna?” I gave him the green light and continued to suck his face.

He asked if I was on birth control, and I told him “yes.” Then the act began and continued.

There was a point when I realized we were skin to skin and nothing between. I had a minor moment of panic because I had just started the last week in my pill pack that same day — the placebo that no girl ever takes.

He obviously didn’t understand my anxiety, but he was almost there, so we went until he had to pull out.

In the earlier years of my sex life, I was scared of what would happen if the guy I was with didn’t wear a condom. Even though I was on birth control, there was that .001 percent chance I could still get pregnant, right?

At that point, my mind didn’t have the capacity to think about STDs, STIs, all the other people he could’ve had sex with before me or any of the other valid and convincing reasons to wear a condom. I understood how everything worked down there, but maybe I was just paranoid.

That was then, this is now.

With a new guy, things are more uncertain than with a guy who gets season passes. I am safe.

I always ask, “Do you have a condom?” Sometimes he is surprised a lady would ask such a question. Other times, he has it ready to go.

Either way, it’s going on or it’s not going in.

However, the second time is a different story. Even so, I find that every time I catch myself thinking about the condom right before a guy enters, I question what I should do. Do I tell him to put one on, or do I pretend I forgot condoms were ever invented? Primary research has shown I don’t seem to care as much as I used to.

If it isn’t slipped on, I always know that I have my own ways of contraception and that I can get tested regularly.

Yes, safe is better than sorry, but sometimes skin is better than medical-grade polyurethane.

Email Lisa Scivolette at fuse@cardinalpointsonline.com

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