Oh the Karma!
Before I continue describing my last tryst with the Terminator (which has been painful to write), there is an update on another front.
So, if you’ve been reading this blog for a little while you know that I’m in a relationship (6 months+) with Mr. Jones, who I met while fucking around not looking for Mr. Right. He’s the right guy at an inconvenient time, because I was enjoying fucking around, but I settled down to see how things developed between us.
The relationship has been beyond wonderful. I’m enjoying an emotional connection I’ve never had before. I truly care about Mr. Jones, but my appetite for the Terminator continues unabated. After six months apart we had two smoking-hot trysts recently while I’m supposed to be exclusive with J. I think Terminator and I are done, finally, but I knew that at some point I would have to pay for that lie, and here it is…
Mr. Jones called me this morning to say that he was assaulted while on the job yesterday, and while he is physically o.k. there were lacerations to both parties and flying bodily fluids. Which means that he may have been exposed to who knows what. Doctors did a whole panel of tests yesterday at the hospital (negative), and they told him he would have to be tested every month for HIV (and hepatitis) for the next six months to be sure he was in the clear. Do you see where this is going?
“That means no sex for six months,” he said “I know we use condoms, but I don’t want to take the least minimal chance of giving you anything, so celibacy,” he said.
“Right, you’re right, baby,” I croaked. Holy Sisters of St. Ursula, I am SCREWED (not!) I thought. Six months ??? I had just been complaining to my best friend that I was feeling deprived during the week because due to distance and schedules J. and I only meet on weekends. “I should be having sex right now,” I wailed to her on a sexless Wednesday night. Ha. I was even considering opening the relationship so that we could both see other people, but I don’t want to hurt him, and I don’t want to share him. And now look.
As the enormity of this begins to sink in, I start having palpitations. I DO NOT want to be celibate for any length of time. Been there. Done that. I just started having sex again, and I’m enjoying it too damn much to give it up. Mr. Jones and I can find safe ways to please each other, but getting fucked? My thoughts go around in circles until they land on an obvious candidate (Terminator is not an option now, he is off sulking and not responding to emails). The EX. My “in case of emergency” cock. PERFECT!!
But lying again? I don’t want to do that either. Is there any way I could give up sex for six months? I could, of course I could, if I wanted to. But I don’t want to. Actually, I refuse. I was celibate for nine years and my body, my pussy, my psyche just refuse to go there again. I know it’s horrible of me, but I can’t do it. So I have to compartmentalize. I don’t see another solution, because I don’t want to lose J. And yes, I know I’m being a spoiled, selfish bitch.
As if he knew that I had decided to fuck him, the ex called me later that afternoon out of the blue. After a few minutes talking about this and that, I tell him about J.’s situation and that I need to hook up with him. Of course, he is willing and excited to oblige. We made a date for tomorrow (it’s been over a week for me), and we’ll see how things go.
Is there a way for me to tell J. I want to fuck elsewhere during his hiatus? Sure there is. But if he walks away…help me out in the comments people, I don’t know what to do.