The night was shining in like an eye. While inside, on a couch, in some shitty part of Oakland, and me with my panties around my ankles, and all this deep breathing, and he’s on top of me in an equal state of undress.
“Do you have a condom?” I ask breathily. We’re at his place, so I figure he’ll take the initiative.
“Oh, uh…no, I don’t think so,” he responds as he pulls back slightly.
“Are you serious? Well -” I push him off me a bit as I grab for my purse, “That’s okay. Here, I have one.”
Actually, I have more than one, and maybe that’s obvious as a few come spilling out of my purse and onto the floor. I laugh a little as I hand it to him sheepishly.
“Oh, so you just carry these around with you everywhere you go?” he asks as he opens the wrapper with his teeth. It’s not an accusatory question, just conversational and jocular.
“I’m single, and I’m optimistic,” I reply cattily, trying to soften the interrogation with a helpful hand job. “Maybe I should be asking why you don’t have any around.”
“Well, uh, I mean, I just met you a few hours ago. I didn’t know this was going to happen…”
“That’s okay,” I reply, slightly wondering what kind of sexual active, mildly attractive, single 20-something wouldn’t be confident enough to keep at least two condoms around somewhere.
“Do you do this a lot?”
“Hah, no,” I lie through gritted teeth behind sultry smile. “Like I said, I’m optimistic.” I kiss him to shut him up, and then I suck his dick to change the subject.