This past weekend I pitched my metaphorical tent and went back to frisbee camp. (Well, there's cabins at the campsite, so I wasn't even pitching a literal tent, but...you know. Dick jokes at any cost.)
The gentleman I had met last year and I spent the week leading up to camp exchanging text messages about whether we were going to revisit our extracurricular activity schedule. As I was dragging my suitcase and a 24 pack of Modelo across the fields to the cabin my team had claimed, he yelled across from the entrance to another cabin where he had reserved the entire cabin just for us and pushed two beds together.
We'd also spent a bit of time discussing different things we'd be interested in trying this year, since we were planning on having more than just one evening to fraternize. That first Friday evening, I spent an astounding amount of time going down on him (my request). Then he pushed me face down into the mattress and fucked me in the ass (his request). This was all before the bonfire officially kicking off camp had even been lit. After rejoining the group, drinking around the fire, and eating some classic campfire food, we went back to the cabin and snuggled in the pushed together bed.
Saturday morning, I woke up to his hands running across my body and him kissing the back of my neck. I am a sucker for morning sex. There's something incredibly intimate about being probably at the most unappealing part of your day and not caring at all. (Seriously, just getting past somebody's morning breath sometimes... Not to mention puffy sleep face and how messed up your hair gets.)
We had left the condoms on a table across the cabin last night. After several minutes of him fingering me, me reaching back to stroke his dick, I arched back and he pushed into me. And I...didn't stop it. He didn't cum inside me, but there was a decent amount of continued, unprotected intercourse.
I want to be explicitly clear that this wasn't a forced situation. I'm not putting any blame on him and I'm trying to manage the amount of guilt I've felt about it since. It was a situation that shouldn't have happened, and I'm endeavoring to move forward responsibly.
Step one: Tell Now-hubby and Frisbee about it.
This was honestly the most difficult part. Even though they're amazingly understanding men, I had no idea how they were going to take this. It's one of our relationship guidelines that I'm fluid bonded to them, they're fluid bonded to me, but we use condoms when having sex with other people. Again, I'm incredibly lucky to have these two particular men in my life. Now-hubby was disappointed but knew I was already doing a decent job mentally berating myself. Frisbee told me it was okay not to be perfect and that telling him was the important thing. Both men have decided they're going to use condoms when they fuck me for the foreseeable future until -
Step two: Get myself tested.
Unless you're worried about pregnancy, there's not a lot you can do immediately after the fact when you've engaged in higher-risk sex. I had to tell the scheduling woman at my gynecologist's office this, which was surprising. She wanted to schedule me for an appointment ASAP after asking me sotto voce if I, "had reason to be concerned." Granted, she's only in charge of the schedule book, but being aware that incubation periods are a thing seems like it should be fairly important to know in any facet of an office that provides women's health services. (Here's a helpful little graphic about common STDs and their incubation periods.) I scheduled the appointment for a few weeks from now and we'll move forward depending on what the results say.