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“So, you’re more likely to get pregnant if you come? Why not take the turkey baster and insert it after or during while you masturbate?”
She makes a choking noise, her eyes darting down to her phone screen.
I swear on everything holy, if the woman tells me she doesn’t masturbate, I’m going to come in my pants at trying to avoid telling her I could teach her.
“I considered that,” she says after a long pause, and somehow I manage to conceal my moan under a hum of understanding.
“Research says the chances are higher with intercourse.”
I want to ask about her confidence in my ability to make her come, but she’d likely bolt from the room.
“That makes sense,” I quickly agree. Feeding my own need for my ego might ruin this entire situation. “Okay, the rules.”
She clears her throat again before speaking, but instead of looking at her phone, she locks eyes with me. “Let me get through the list without interruptions and then we can discuss or add things if you’d like.”
She waits for me to nod in agreement.
“Okay.” She takes a deep breath. “We only have intercourse when I’m ovulating, and no other time. If I don’t get pregnant the first month, then we wait until I’m ovulating again.”
Sleeping with this woman for more than a month?
Is it horrible that I hope she has a difficult time getting pregnant?
“Nothing can change. We still have to be friends. We keep our routines.”
“Except instead of watching zombies we’re going to be—”
“When I’m ovulating. Now, stop interrupting.” She frowns at me before dropping her eyes back to her phone, huffing when she has to unlock it again because it went dark. “There will be no kissing, no excessive touching. I expect you to keep track of my cycle on a connected app because just saying the word cycle embarrasses me. So I’ll need you to know what days we should watch TV and what days we should… you know.”
I nod in understanding. I knew not to expect the kind of shit that gets my rocks off, but this insert tab A into slot B shit sort of sucks.
No kissing? She can’t be serious. Does anyone have sex and not kiss?
“And when it’s over, I need you to not linger. I think it would be too awkward. We’re in agreement?”
“Are those all the rules?”
“So far, but I reserve the right to add more if situations come up that I didn’t think about.”
Add more, not take some away.
This is not what I had in mind at all. What I wanted was to dick her down so good that she was not only incapable of walking for a couple hours but also that she never wanted to leave my bed.
Don’t linger when it’s over? Just fuck her and leave?
I should back out now. I should tell her that this isn’t going to work for me, but I have to accept this isn’t for me. My head can’t decipher between being good enough to be the father of her baby but not good enough to kiss or hold.
It leaves my stomach sour, but I nod anyway.
“Agreed.”
“Oh, and one more thing. You’ll need to get tested and a physical, and have them do maybe some genetic testing.”
I frown. Is she worried my family line is shit, and she’s afraid I’ll give her a baby with problems? Hell, what if it is true?It’s not like I’d know because my adoption was closed. My birth mother never wanted to be found after she gave me up.
“Okay,” I tell her, more in an effort to just end this conversation.
“I’ll send you a link for the app. There’s a share feature which will link you directly to my account.”
