‘Are you not on the pill?’
‘Have you been tested recently?’
‘I don’t have anything, I’d know if I did,’ he laughs, rolling his eyes.
‘Well, I’m not on the pill. Or anything else, for that matter,’ I lie, watching as his face remains unchanged.
Transferring disease is clearly not a worry to him, but I was hoping that something like pregnancy would be.
‘I’ll pull out,’ he says.
I can’t help but laugh. What kind of seventeen-year-old-boy-level response is that?
‘Yeah, we’re absolutely not doing that.’ I gently shoo him off me.
He doesn’t know me at all if he thought something like that would pass.
‘OK, calm down!’ he says, blatantly ignoring my deathly calm and frankly apathetic exterior. ‘There’s still other things we can do.’
He softly strokes my hair, licking his lips before he leans in for another kiss.
The upside is we’ve been at this long enough tonight that we’ve reached the point where his kissing has significantly improved. It’s a little less wet now and he seems to have got the message that your tongue shouldn’t just whirl around lawlessly like a sock in a washing machine.
I moan softly into his mouth. This is what I came here for– this feeling. This feeling will make me forget. I lose myself in the kiss, in the movement of his lips and the intense grip of his hand in my hair. . .
Then I feel it.
The head pat.
The push of his hand against the top of my head, trying to shove me under the covers.
I fight back, pretending I don’t understand and trying to bring us back to that brief moment where everything felt good. I grip his head with both hands, doing my best to distract him with a tantalising lip bite and a heavy dose of tongue, but he has one goal in mind and he will not give up. His hand pushes harder and harder until he realises it’s no use and resorts to words.
‘Give me head.’
It’s blunt and tactless, making it only more evident that he’s undeserving. But I decide to adequately test the waters before I decline. I am nothing if not reasonable.
‘You first,’ I say.
His eyebrows lift at the request, mouth opening in utter shock and horror.
‘Yeah, I don’t do that. Especially not the first time.’
‘Then neither do I,’ I say, pulling away as he leans in to kiss me again and shoots his hand straight to the top of my head to audaciously try his luck a third time.
‘What do you mean?’ he asks, genuinely wide-eyed and confused.
I roll my eyes and attempt to make it as clear as day. ‘If you won’t go down on me, then I won’t go down on you.’
He snorts in disgust, the space between our bodies growing cold as he pulls away. ‘You being serious?’
‘Why wouldn’t I be?’
‘Because that’s not—’
‘That’s not what?’ I ask, ready to fight.
He catches the glare on my face, his dissipating within seconds. He knows he’s lost this and I’d go as far as to say he’s a little embarrassed.
