THE WANTED GEMS

In a small Mexican town, a treasure finder arrived. 

He was looking for the roots of the Wild yam that native women

have been consuming as contraception and he found it.

Men from all over the world had heard the story.

They had listened to the whispers many times. 

They still are debatable on where to get it,

the number of formalities we need to go through

and the many side effects this tiny little gems causes to the female body.

But they fancy it anyway.

They want women to take it, 

to experience an abnormal sensation of pleasure

or at least, that's what they say.

Number one:

I'm in a kitchen, wearing only warm winter socks and a male's worn-out shirt, no bra under, mixing a few ingredients to make a chocolate mousse after smoking a joint. The light enters through the window bars, snow covers the land of the farm. He is behind me, admiring what he can see of my body and imagining the rest. I can sense he is hungry, he would come to me soon.

He does. He holds my breast, presses them, kisses me from the neck hasta el coño. 

Although I'm very into this situation, yet, I keep thinking I must whip the mousse until thick to make the ultimate dessert.

When he can't contain it anymore, he pulls down his pants and asks:

“Are you on the pill?.”

 

Number two:

My feet are submerged in warm crystal water, I move them around nervously, while staring at them, avoiding eye contact with him, but slightly smiling, wishing he is captivated by my red big lips. 

It's late, I have to work tomorrow but I'm curious to find out what would happen if I stay longer. 

I take my wet legs out of the pool and only responsible words come out of my mouth.

“I must leave, hell yeah, I must.”

I enter his apartment, with the truthful excuse of picking up my bag, he follows. With all my belongings on my hands, I intended to kiss him goodbye on his cheek, a trick that I'm grateful to my culture for.

From there, we ended up on his couch, on his bed, against the walls, still fully dressed.

We're attached, can't have enough of this addictive kiss.

While I'm still all over his face, I realized the clock isn't going any slower.

“Is my uniform already at the office?.” - I tried to remember.

“I can't show up wearing these mini shorts. I'm going to need a shower. Oh no, I don't have a hairbrush, I’m positive he doesn't own one. Could I use my fingers to detangle my hair?. The good news is, I have my toothbrush, I wouldn't get out of the house without it, never.” 

Question one: “So are you staying?.”- he asked.

He is actually requesting my permission to undress me. 

“Do you have a hairbrush?.” - I asked.

Him: 

“Yeah, somewhere.”

Close enough. I'll deal with that in the morning.

We continue with the kissing, touching, undressing.

Question two: “Are you on the pill?.” - he asked.

 

Some number, somewhere in planet earth: 

Sun rays on their faces, carefully, she walks behind him, keeping her distance, analyzing why she is out in the wild with a traveler she just met the night before.  

Adventure, one of the greatest feelings someone can experience, even better when a gorgeous, Danish guy is leading the way on a risky path. Between sweats, stumbles, and mud, she enjoys the best view of the show he is performing. 

Sometimes he comes back to help her, offering his hand when the hiking gets trickier and a good deal of thoughts keep crossing her mind: 

“How long will this hike go for?.”

“Shocking! I´m not in such bad shape after all, I can still breathe by my own natural resources.”

“I hope he has wine on that backpack, because I´m not sharing the one I brought.”

“No one else is around, he might murder me at the end.”                                                                                  

“Look at him going, those abs!.”

“When does this path start going down?.”

Suddenly: Oh good, he stopped, what is happening?.

A mountain of rocks indicates the path has ended. 

He walks towards her, without saying any danish words and intensively kisses her.

Clothes are gone in a second.

What a delightful adventure!

And he asks her: “are you on the pill?.”

 

She/Us/Me: 

“What an expected, nonrandom question.”

“So I see, you heard the story.”

“As a matter of fact, I'm on  the pill, I'm also into condoms.”

“But, what are you on?.” 

“Faith?.”

“Reliance on the other person? Hoping she will take care of everything during and after.?

If I say yes, I'm assuming, you won't use or at the minimum, offer to put on a condom, otherwise, you wouldn’t be asking.”

“When I decided to start taking the much desired pill, I did it, thinking it as an extra contraception method of the usual method I usually employ, which, amazingly, also prevents us from getting STIs, enough reason to be into both.”

“We compromised our bodies to this procedure for us, being completely conscious of what we might experience once the pills enter our system, such as, missed periods, mood changes, migraine, libido decreased, weight gain, breast tenderness, vaginal discharge, changes to eyesight for those using contact lenses and nausea.”

“Not picturing the pleasure someone else could benefit from it.”

Yes, I deliberately typed the effects so we can all read them.

“It is every woman's decision to be on the pill for whichever motive they have. It is nobody right to assume because we are on that you won't have to preoccupy yourself on planning the contraception method you are going to be on, nonetheless, push a woman to locate the wild yam, grow it on her backyard and drink it as a tea, so you will enjoy an incomparable type of pleasure.”

She/Us/Me: 

“So having said that more regularly than I thought, grab the condoms in my backpack and let's fuck.”