The lesson I learned when I first started on my personal sexual path was that you need to give the woman you're with what she wants first and then you can take. It's my prescription for success in the bedroom or any other room I fuck a woman in.
Last night it was in Ellie's bedroom. She told me which room to enter and when I left over an hour later it was with her smell and taste all over my face and hands. I licked and sucked her beautiful pink cunt until she was quivering and told me it was too much and that she couldn't take anymore. Then I kissed her goodnight and me and my hard-as-nails dick walked home hungry for more of the taste and those fucking sounds she was making. It was a squeak and a moan and a chorus of words that make no sense, but I could have listened to that all night long. I wanted to slide inside of her, but I didn't. I couldn't.
I had no qualms about fucking her without a condom. She's too aware of her surroundings not to be tested regularly. She had sex with the scummiest man whore in Las Vegas for months. She's been tested since. I'd bet everything I own on that. I'm clean too and I'm in no position to knock her up, so it's safe.
Extra safe.
It's a-vasectomy-a-week-after-May-arrived-kind-of-safe.
I was clipped for good measure after I realized that those statistics on the side of a box of condoms are real. They do fail. My daughter is proof of that.
I always played safe before May was born, always. I wouldn’t touch a woman unless my dick was wrapped and she was using birth control, but obviously one of those women, one with the same shade of blonde hair and brown eyes as May, lied to me.
The onus was as much on me as her. I fucked whoever the hell she was with full knowledge that regardless of what we used to prevent a pregnancy, there was a slim chance of conception. I'm grateful for the latex failure now, but back when I became an instant dad when I was twenty-three-years-old, I was fucking panicked. I decided that I'm a one-kid-only kind of guy and went to see my doctor.
A week later the problem was taken care of. I still use condoms, every single time, but I have the reassurance of knowing that I'm not going to wake up with another baby on my doorstep.
I bit my tongue last night when I undressed Ellie and crawled on top of her while I was still fully clothed. I wanted to tell her that I trusted her and that she should trust me. I wanted to fuck her raw with nothing between us, but I want the trust that comes with time. I'm not going to pressure her into anything. I'm in no hurry.
"You look like a cat that just ate a canary and enjoyed every last bite of it."
My head snaps up to see Crew standing in the doorway of my office. I've been here alone since early this morning.
I fell asleep once I got home from Ellie's, but then a soft touch on my shoulder woke me. It was May with tears in her eyes and a hand-drawn picture of Barney in her hands. My daughter isn't an artist although it's her goal to be one. That's the plan this week, so I bought her a package of markers and a sketch pad. Her mission before this was to be a farmer. That's why we visited a petting zoo an hour upstate. I'm all for her chasing her dreams, all of them.
My job as her dad is to make sure the route is safe while she does the exploring.
"What time is it?" I scrub my hand over my face. I didn't shave. I showered just before five this morning when May finally went back to bed.
"Time for me to break the bad news to you." He strolls into my office, stopping short of the chairs in front of my desk.
"What bad news?" I glance down at the screen of my phone. No Mayday messages have come in. It's a code Crew came up with for the three nannies I employ after May took a tumble and split her lip when she was a toddler. If they type it in a text, it means it's an emergency. If I don't respond, they contact Eda and Crew simultaneously.
It doesn't take the edge off the panic I feel whenever I see it or hear it, but it does convey the message that my daughter is in trouble in an inconspicuous way, regardless of who else is in the room.
Very few people know I have a child and her existence isn't fuel for public consumption. I don't want her picture online or her image sold to the highest bidder. The vague promise that was in the note left with May when she was an infant has kept me wary of letting anyone near her.
"You're fucked." He chuckles as he takes a seat in one of the chairs. "You're royally fucked, pal."
"In what sense?" I lean back into my chair.
He smirks. "In the sense that you have never, to my knowledge, told any woman about May. Yesterday I was here when you just put it all out there in front of Ellie."
I did do that, without a second thought. "I wanted her to know. I want her to know May."
"Since when did that become a good idea?"