And the freak out... (somewhat graphic post)

This all preambles this weekend:
To be put on "birth control" in any form (other than condoms) you have to first do a yearly pap smear.

If you don't know what that is, I'm sorry, but you must have gone to Catholic school.

I think almost every girl goes through finding Dr. Right. Not many girls find "love at first sight" or simply don't care, and believe me, Dr. Right for some girls does not mean he/she will be Dr. Right for you.

My Dr. Right has been booked solid for months.
I had an appointment about a month ago (finally) and I had to cancel it on the account of Aunt Flo visiting 1.5 weeks too early.
Drat.

My next appointment couldn't be scheduled until this week, after Aunt Flo had already visited (they didn't want a repeat mistake).

This weekend:
Mr. Lust came over Saturday morning. He was excited. He started coaching Varsity wrestling again and he had had an early morning practice. Oddly enough, after wrestling all morning, he was ready to go.
We spent the day together, just us, we left once to go eat, came back watched movies, spent time with each other... you know... the normal relationship stuff that I have been somewhat deprived of for the last 3 years.
Mr. Lust is thoroughly convinced that I've dated some of the biggest assholes known to man. When I ask things like, "Will you get upset if I just wear a sweatshirt to go out to eat instead of getting dressed up?" is evidence to the fact that I have been emotionally abused because any man should be OK with his girlfriend going to a local pub to eat lunch in a sweatshirt on a Saturday.
I inherited the fear of how good I look in comparison from NG, who shaved his arm and leg hair for fear of people thinking badly of him, aka, his girlfriend needed same standards.

We came home from eating.
We had the apartment to ourselves.
Round two.
After a long time, I was starting to get tired. Having already achieved satisfaction and wanting to give the same in return I whispered in his ear, "Baby, get off."
A few moments later, he went deep inside made a noise and then sat there panting, his arms positioned on either side of my head. Then he rolled over and curled up next to me.

This was not usual.

Usually, he pulls out a good minute before he gets off and he gets off on my stomach.

I laid there, thinking, and I tried not to freak out.

"The last time someone had gotten off inside of me was 5 years ago. I didn't remember what it felt like, but I was sure that this wasn't completely the way it was. Surely Mr. Lust wouldn't have done this. We had talked so much about it, before even doing it, he wouldn't just throw all that away would he?
Mr. Lust constantly has women throwing themselves at him in hopes that he'll get them pregnant. He constantly avoids it. So he wouldn't do this to me...

"I love you, QSW" he whispered into my ear.

Being neurotic, a woman, and naturally crazy, I spun around and said, "I love you too, but not enough to have your children, DO you understand?!"
Somehow I sounded like my mom when she use to say, "You have to apologize to your brother for hitting him, DO YOU UNDERSTAND!?"
Mr. Lust looked stunned for a moment, gained control, and said, "Well, thats always nice to hear. I'm glad to know that you aren't secretly poking holes in my condoms."
"You aren't wearing a condom!" I said, kind of loudly, but still feeling crazy, womanly, and neurotic so it didn't matter.
"Baby, what is the matter?" he asked, so calmly.
Like a faucet that had just been turned on after years of non-use, I started very cautiously, gained steam, and told him exactly how horrible it was that he got off inside me.

It turns out, he didn't.
He didn't get off at all.
Apparently when you wrestle from 8am till 10am then have sex until noon, and then eat, and then go to have sex again, you are tired, and you cannot get off, even if you wanted too.

You learn something new everyday.