I have never gotten a girl pregnant. I have never been involved in an abortion. I have never even had a real scare with a girl.
And while I am 100% pro-family, and I like kids, I’m not trying to make any babies right now. Starting a family is the right path for most men, I have deep respect for proper patriarchs, but that is not what I want for myself. Not today.
Since January I have been seeing Miss Happy. The odd events of 2020 have put me in a state of “accidental monogamy” with her. I like her and it has been good to “go deep” with one girl… and practice skills beyond the pickup, deeper wranglings and investigations into the female psyche.
But now, in mid-May, the frenzied passion from the beginning has settled into a more everyday kind of love affair. And by every day, I mean… “The Players Rhythm” of an intense date, once a week. I like her, but it’s not “new and sparkly” any more.
And I really miss Game. When 2020 settles down, I am certain I will bounce back into the crowds (when they finally appear) and spread my love around to so many yet unnamed nubiles. Even the idea is inspiring.
Where does this leave Miss Happy and I? Well, I am not the kind of man that gives girls that version of “the talk” where you tell her you’re going to see other girls. I think that is so anti-romantic as to be insulting (too direct, even for me). And I don’t offer any thing like commitment (never). I always tell stories about how “maybe someday,” but for now, “I’m a lover, not a boyfriend or a husband.” Miss Happy heard it early and explicitly. I love hard, but I am clear about what I have to offer these girls.
I care about her. But…
I can’t wait to game.
Two weeks ago we had something like a fight. It wasn’t based in anger, but we had some drama. Skipping over the details, I would say she was feeling a little put off… a little neglected. And I could feel some “games” in how she was communicating with me. The wounded girl, retaliating, adding extra feminine chaos to the mix as I tried to set up our next date.
But I got it set up. And I had her come over early. We took a walk. I talked to her, I wanted to understand her, I wanted her to air any resentments. I used the time to lead her thoughts about “what we are” and “where we’re going.” It was a successful talk. She told me she felt something like “hurt” when I set the boundary that led our “fight.” And even as I set that boundary yet again in our talk, she got to see me show some care for her. She got to see I could hold two stances at once: I could be strong in what I want and still want the best for her. We went home after our walk. I fucked her. Nothing extravagant, but it was deep, emotional sex. I cooked for her and we slept.
Going back to that walk…
I didn’t think I would fuck her that night. I assumed… she would be on period. Actually, I was wondering if the “games” she had been playing with me that week were related to her being “more emotional.” I asked her and she said “no.” And it wasn’t a big deal to her.
I don’t take notes or anything, but when I am dating a girl regularly, I have some sense for where she is at in her cycle. I like to know when sex will be blocked out from the mess (I’m not into period sex). And also…
I like to know that I’m not an accidental father.
But she brushed past it quickly that night. “No,” she hadn’t. And that meant her period was maybe a little late. She isn’t completely regular, but…
Over text this week, I asked about her period again. “No.” She said. No “alarm” in her tone. It was as if she genuinely felt like it wasn’t a big deal (though: some girls want to get pregnant, so it’s hard, sometimes, to read them in that way).
This all leads up to our date last night:
She came over, and brought me a present, as usual (some food she had cooked). She wasn’t in my place for even five minutes when I saw her glance toward the bed. I could tell she “wanted it.” I walked her over, pushed her down…
As I began to strip off her clothes, I asked, yet again. I hadn’t seen any evidence of her period in what “felt” like 5 weeks. Maybe six? “No,” she said. And I said, you seem comfortable about it, this is all normal for you? And she very easily dismissed it. I read her then, and she felt real. She wasn’t worried. In the moment, it was enough for me.
I went to work on her. I hadn’t tied her up in a while, so I did that – elbows up past her ears and framing her face, her wrists knotted together behind her head, the bite of the rope running tight down her spine and then, wrapped three times just under her tits and tied off behind her, holding her in on display in that forced-vulnerable position, helpless… and ready to be ravished.
I fucked her in a half a dozen positions, ate her pussy, and made her squirt three or four times. More, really excellent sex – she and I are great like that. Then I took her to dinner.
Later that night we fell asleep watching this movie Dangerous Beauty. It is about a courtesan. And it has some very Secret Society notions of sex and love and marriage. And we talked about those themes. She passed out, her head on my chest, as we talked… but I think the conversation was unsettling.
This morning, as the sun rose through overcast skies, a faint grey buzz of light filled my place. My cats (little hunter-killer machines that they are) began to roam the room, making some noise, not-so-subtlety signaling they wanted breakfast. I got up and gave them a half a scoop and crawled back into the sheets and next to a naked Miss Happy.
But I couldn’t slip back into my dreams. I was anxious. I was thinking about being pregnant.
I am on record as being a staunch advocate of condoms. When I was younger, all my relationships were set up to include having her on “the pill” so I could bust in carefree abandon, with my “kids” dripping down between her thighs each time. But these days…
There is no way I would leave birth control up to a woman. No way. Being childless is a kind of freedom for me, a freedom I respect. And I would never let a woman manage that freedom for me. I don’t care at all if a girl is using an IUD or is on the pill… I always use condoms.
But, I will sometimes “dip into” a girl. Early in the session, before I have a bunch of come “pre-loaded” in my cock, when I am hard but we haven’t been at it too long… I’ll sometimes plunge in raw. I give her the surprise of being roughly penetrated. It’s hot. It’s not smart (not at all), but in those brief periods, it has been an acceptable level of risk for me.
I am not talking about “the pull out method” – when you pound away unprotected, but then “pull out” just before you come and toss it on her tits or into her pretty face. My “raw moments” are very brief, very early in the sexual scene. I wouldn’t fuck a girl raw if I was too excited, or if I have been anywhere near coming.
But Miss Happy and I have had so much sex. Two/three rounds a night, at least once a week. And I have done the trick of tapping her for brief raw-dog moments several times recently.
And this is how I “fucked myself,” in this case. I had taken some chances. Small risks, but it’s possible I got some seed in her. Very possible. So when her period was late…
Could it be?
All this was on my mind this morning as the sun rose. Had my streak of mostly carefree freedom and carousing come to conclusion? Would I be a dad, now, accidentally? As I laid in bed this morning, I tried to accept it… were it true. I tried to face it, were it the fact of the day. If I was to be a dad… I know I could do it.
And then the cats were attacking each other, in some game where they faux-kill each other in their ritual of what life outside might be like, if they could ever escape their 9th floor apartment. This morning, in combat, they tore a lap across the room and knocked over some picture frames with a violent crash.
Miss Happy jumped and clutched at me. And she actually shuddered… not only startled, she was genuinely scared. And she held onto me. Almost childishly.
So as I lay in that grey morning light, I pushed my anxious brooding about accidental parenthood aside, and tried to calm her down. I could “feel the energy” of her, as her soft but tense body was pressed against mine. She tossed back and forth some, every few minutes, making sure neither of us could slip back into sleep. And then she said:
She said it was a combination of a bad dream and the noise as the cats woke us up. That may be true. But I will go out on a limb and say that me, laying next to her, as I bad-tripped on thoughts pregnancy, that she and I might be tied together by a child, as I turned all that into a mild, mental boil… she picked up on that “energy” too.
I felt her fear this morning after the cats crashed open the day. Could she also feel mine? My dread of being cast in a role that I don’t really want for myself? I’m sure of it, even as it was unspoken.
I tried to center myself. To get grounded. I tried, to lead a vulnerable girl into safety. I rubbed at the tension in her limbs. I whispered instructions to her, to relax the many muscles from her toes to the tension in her temples. She was better. I could “feel it,” but she still tossed. It was maybe 4:30 AM. We both needed to sleep…
I decided to fuck her again. I got up. Got a condom. Put it on the bed next to me… and then I teased her. Pulling her nipples and tonguing her ear. Pressing my cock against the fullness of her ass. She was purring, the sex pushing aside the scare. I strapped on that condom, flipped her onto her stomach, and pushed my cock into her from behind. I pressed her face into the down pillows, and fucked her, hard. And it was (as always) very good.
Words escaped that narrow space between her lips and the pillows. She was saying “so deep” and some of her usual sex chatter. But that wasn’t all she said. She said something I have never heard in bed with a women before. She said…
“Don’t leave me.”
I swear that is what she said. Mixed in with the moans, and telling me to go deeper, she said, maybe 10 times… “don’t leave me.”
It wasn’t emotional, not particularly. It was in the same tone as “sooo deeeeep.” It wasn’t a plea or desperate or begging. She was clearly enjoying the sex, but it was there. Stark and unmissable words turning us into an awkward threesome of her, and I, and her inopportune confession.
This is real. It’s another remarkable moment in my time as a player and a lover of women.
I wasn’t ignoring her, but I didn’t respond. I just took it in like a note in a notebook. And continued to fuck her. Not avoiding it, but I kept after my goal of fucking the tension out of both of us. I thought all this would help us sleep.
After a while, I wanted to flip her over her onto her back, and to finish, face to face. And as I did…
My cock was smeared with blood. Really?! Was this her period? Yes. It was. Unbelievable timing.
I told her that her period had come. With surprise in her voice she said, “it did?” It wasn’t much, just a bit of blood. And I had really worked her pussy hard the night before as I made her squirt. Maybe there was some blood from all that? But, I didn’t think so…
I got a towel and put it beneath her. And I finished. It wasn’t a big, beautiful fuck, but it had done it’s job. I didn’t even take the condom off… I just rolled her over to her side, put her in “little spoon,” held her to me, and…
We both fell asleep. I figured a good fuck would do it – spend the nervous energy of the morning. Her’s of being left. Mine of being captured by a responsibility of family that I don’t want for myself.
I keep an unofficial eye on the sky, and when it felt like time to start the day I stood up. I still had the condom wrapped around my cock. And yes, there was some blood on it. And I felt…
I stroked Miss Happy’s milky skin to rouse her into the day. I cheerfully warmed her up, and she rose, tired, but also happy again.
And she was really bloody now. Last night… not a sign of it. As I fucked her this morning, a hint. By the time the sun was up, completely so. I don’t mean to overplay the scene… but a full YES to that girl having her period this morning. Yes. I can’t believe how it all happened, but it did.
She nervously got up and made her way into the shower. She was sheepish about the mess, but of course, I didn’t care.
I felt such relief, but the morning would be incomplete until I asked her about saying “don’t leave me” during sex. Those words were more than unusual for a couple, in mid-thrust, and I wanted to face that part too.
I told her I had fucked her get her to relax. She playfully accused me of being a cad, that the sex was just a chance to selfishly get off. Oh yeah, did it work, I asked? Hadn’t we both fallen asleep immediately afterwards? “Yes,” she said, surprised to realize it.
And then I broached the topic, asked her about saying, “don’t leave me.” And she said, “I did?” And I said, yeah, you did. And I told her I wasn’t concerned, but I wanted her to know that (of course) I noticed. What did that mean to her, I asked?
She said, “it’s just that I need you.”
And I think there are a lot of guys that run around thinking that making girls “need you” is cool. But I am not that kind of guy. I respect responsibility, but I don’t think dependency is sexy. And it’s dangerous for a relationship to stoke that kind of fire… even a “casual” one.
So I coached her about it… I helped her reframe it as “want.” She is a very smart, capable girl, and she knows it. She doesn’t “need” me, and I don’t need her to need me either. I helped her reframe the need as “want” or just appreciation for what it’s like when we’re together. We don’t have to “need” or “try” or even “want” each other… we just “are” good lovers. We are (most of the time) “1 + 1 = 3.” And I told her that, and she smiled.
She was fine. She looked great. I have some work to do yet between she and I, but she left for work, Miss Happy once again.
Beyond the approach, beyond getting her out or getting her naked, deeper into the relationship elements… this is what wrangling girls looks like. And this is what wrangling myself looks like. It is always both.
And she was gone and it felt like “Christmas” that I was not pregnant. Thank the Daygame Gods for that. I love kids. I respect families. Maybe I’ll do all that someday… maybe… when I am stronger. But it wouldn’t start today.
And maybe “dipping it in” is low risk. But as you may be able to tell by this essay… it is too risky for me. If my freedom is that important, I can skip that thrill. It wasn’t worth it this morning. I’m done with it.
After she left I made the bed. Even though I put the towel under us this morning, before that, we’d gotten some blood on the sheets. And there it was… evidence that I was still free. That I could be free to choose what I would do next. Continue on with Miss Happy. Date other girls. Maybe do both. Maybe choose to be a father one day… or maybe not. All options were open, once again. For now.
In my sheets… those streaks of dried blood…
What an incredible morning.
May we have good experiences. May we give the girls good experiences. Viva daygame.