Coming home after a long trip, you are as usual excited to see me, and I you. That night, we're laying in bed, fooling around, snuggling, kissing, rubbing. As our bodies warm to each other's touch, our limbs wrap and our extremites wander, I end up climbing on top of you and gently slide in.
Careful, you say, breathlessly, between kisses you're planting on my lips, around my face, neck and shoulders, I could get pregnant.
Now of course I know what you mean by this. What this entails. Part of being responsible is knowing what to do and how far to go; being able to make those decisions.
There's also the more primitive, base instincts inside of me. They have a voice as well. Usually quiet, but at times like these they demand to be heard. The goat-voice. They hear what you say, but hear it very differently.
Great news, says the inner goat-voice, she's feeling fertile. For the inner goat, any sex is good sex, but when you're feeling that way, there will be excitement ahead. More interactions. More rounds. More surprises.
I wonder, says the inner goat-voice again, what she means by could. Maybe you could get her pregnant, if you try hard enough. The inner goat senses a challenge, a challenge to its virility, a chance to prove itself and chase that demon. That goat will want to go a little bit further, a little bit deeper. Maybe as I ram it into you I'll get that extra millimeter or two of depth. closer in.
Usually that voice has been quiet, in the background. When I'm feeling satisfied, it's satisfied. Sometimes I wonder about listening to what it has to say. Usually it has bad ideas, ideas that would be just trouble for the long term, but sometimes even bad ideas can be a spark for the new, be made into something good.
