February 26, 2011 § Leave a comment
“I think a big reason people have so much trouble communicating about STIs-”
“STIs- Sexually Transmitted Infections. It’s a CDC thing.”
“Yeah, maybe too many acronyms for you so early in the morning.” Fucking retard.
We’re laying in my bed and my twat feels like it’s full of hot sauce and peanut butter. It’s not. And there’s no discharge to indicate that my body is producing it’s own special sauces. Since he and I tend to have some pretty fucked up sex, the pain isn’t really the issue. The last three times we fucked I swear it felt like every time was my first time. Totally hot.
But I’ve gone through 31 years of my life without ever getting a disease and I’d hate to think the gig was up now. I didn’t want to have to go lay down on a table and make small talk whilst my burkenstock wearing, dog owning gyno poked around in my oozing pussy, waiting for the “Looks like we’ve got us a problem down here.”
“I think the reason it’s hard for couples to talk about is that it’s somewhat accusatory. But people should be able to look past that and just think of it as a conversation that needs to be had.”, I said, waiting a beat before asking him if he’d been tested recently.
He hadn’t. I had. So, basically it would be all his fault if my pussy was infected. Hah. All of a sudden I was A-Okay with the talk being accusatory.
I popped out of bed and made coffee, ignoring him until he left, feeling smug. Itchy, burny, and smug.