Just Another Folder (Part II of II)

I could not stomach being in his presence any longer and left a few moments later. He texted me several minutes later and asked if I was upset and apologized. His apology didn’t matter to me at this point. He even had the audacity to hint around that he wanted to fool around. I was offended and I told him that it was best that we never saw each other again. I cried. I cried for being so stupid. I cried for letting him disrespect all this time. I cried because I diminished my self-worth every time I was involved with him.

All these thoughts ran through my mind. What if he actually slept with that crossdresser? Did they had unprotected sex?  Were there more? Also, how many women did he have unprotected with? What if he infected me with HIV? My last HIV test was January 2012. Why did I wait so long to get retested? He wasn’t the only person I was sexually involved with. What was I thinking? I needed to get tested ASAP!

The next morning, I purchased OraQuick In-Home HIV Test at the pharmacy for about $40. My heart raced on the walk home. I could barely breathe. I read the instructions over and over again. After several minutes of calming myself down, I finally took the test. I swabbed my lower and upper gums and placed the test stick inside the test tube.

After 20 excruciating minutes, I pulled off the cover to reveal the results. There was one line by “C” and there wasn’t a line next to “T”. It meant that I tested negative for HIV. Even though I was relieved, it still did not give me peace of mind. I had to retest in a clinical setting. I had to be sure.

A couple of weeks later, I went to the clinic and took a STD and HIV screening. The HIV results came in 45 minutes and were negative. I felt so at ease and it taught me a good lesson. It taught me that I cannot trust anyone with my body. It is my responsibility. I also need to get tested regularly especially if I’m sexually active. I also should have protected sex 100% of the time. It also taught me that you never know what someone is hiding from you. I would have never dreamt that he had an affinity for crossdressers.

We have not communicated since that night.  We cross paths on occasions and pretend that we don’t see each other.

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Tried to Be Stella & Didn’t Get My Groove Back

(Reader discretion advised y’all)

A few years ago, I worked at a university bookstore during my undergraduate studies. At the bookstore I met a 19-year-old student. Let’s call him The One Who Was Too Young. He always flirted with me and hinted that he was interested in me sexually. I was around 28 at the time and did not take him seriously. He was just a little boy in my mind. Also, I was madly in love with The One Who Didn’t Feel the Same at that time. Anywho…

A few years after departing the bookstore, I would chat with him from time to time. Every so often, he would remind me of his interest but I always brushed him off. Well…up until a few weeks ago. I finally gave in after chatting with him back and forth. How come? I’m not quite sure. I could chalk it up to the hypersexuality, his persistence or the fact that a 25-year-old thought I was sexy. I believe it was a combination of everything. His unwavering interest began to intrigue me. He was not that 19-year-old boy that hinted around anymore. He was bold and downright kinky! He told me about all the naughty things that he wanted to do to me.

Younger men seemed to be all the rage for women in my age group and older. “Do it,” they said. “Younger men have so much stamina,” they said. “Girl, get your groove back,” they said. I began to imagine his stamina. I imagined being 25 again and how ravenous my sexual appetite was. I imagined being enthralled by him. It’s been a long time since I was plowed into oblivion. The thought of new penis was also alluring. I equated it to the new car smell. The anticipation was killing me!

He came over to my apartment a few days later. The vibe was awkward. The small talk was awkward. The flirting was awkward. It was going downhill. I decided to ward off the awkwardness with fellatio. He went bananas. He went so bananas he exclaimed, “We should record this and put it on YouTube! This is off the chain!” Yeah. He said that…YouTube…off the chain. How sexy…

He used one of my dildos on me and that reeked of awkwardness too.  It seemed like he tried to emulate a porn scene. He had no sense of timing nor rhythm. He was trying way too hard. Hello! There’s an art to stroking buddy! He also kept talking, talking and talking. It wasn’t sexy. It was wordy mess! Nothing felt organic. It felt manufactured and amateur to me. I could not wait for it to be over! I went down on him again so he could jizz and get the hell out of my apartment! Aren’t I so accommodating?

As he was about to leave (after jizzing like an uncontrollable faucet), he made a bold move. He stepped back inside and aggressively bent me over to penetrate me. Was he redeeming himself? Was he showing some initiative? Where was the guy several minutes ago? This was going to be awesome! My engine was revving. Well…not for long. He quickly pumped about 3-4 times, pulled out and said, “Yeah. You got good pussy too. I wanted a sample.” He exited my apartment a few moments later. Utter shock rushed over my body. What was this? Was I being punk’d? Where was Ashton? Was Ashton going to fuck me like he hated me after this monstrosity I just endured?

We weren’t in contact for a couple of weeks. He reached out to me and questioned the lack of communication. He also expressed his desire to “see” me again. I declined and told him that we weren’t sexually compatible. It was a hard pill for him to swallow but I think he understood—after several days of pestering me. This experience definitely deserves to be on my list.