Condom Safe Quotes

Men who refuse to use condoms do not deserve to be fucked by anyone but other men who refuse to use condoms.

The condom broke. I know how stupid that sounds. It's the reproductive version of the dog ate my homework.

Honey, are you being safe?' 'I wear my seat belt, yes.' 'Does this Rob Lovely wear a seat belt too?' Matty sighed. 'Mother, seat belts should be worn at all times when in a moving vehicle. Didn't you teach me that?' 'So long as we're both talking about condoms here, then I'll leave it.' 'Consider it left.

It seemed to me, watching, that if you were dextrous enough to gift-wrap an independent-minded amphibian, you could just about manage a condom.

Having sex with a condom is like eating chocolate with the wrap on.

Safe sex is an act of self love.

We can't future-proof love. When we're with someone, we're vulnerable. Love is dangerous, and there's no way of doing it safely. There is no condom for the heart. But we can protect ourselves with self love, and the knowledge that we don't need anyone to complete u. We can't be with anyone who makes us feel as though we're not enough on our own.

Always use condom sense!

We make love without a condom. AIDS is there though. We even know its true identity. It’s no longer referred to as the “gay cancer.” It’s there but we think we are safe from it. We know nothing of the grand decimation that will follow, depriving us of our best friends and old lovers, that will bring us together in cemeteries and cause us to scratch out names in our address books, enraging us with so many absences, such profound loss. It is there but we aren’t afraid yet. We believe that we are protected by our youth. We are seventeen years old. You don’t die when you are seventeen years old.

The AIDS pandemic forced humans to cover their genitals with condoms. The COVID-19 pandemic is forcing them to put on masks. It is as if many people weren’t already going through life putting on a million masks and changing them based on convenience and self-interest. It is as if countless humans on this planet weren’t already forced to keep their mouths shut and endure the misfortunes imposed on them by the ‘fortunate’ few. I wonder which body part we will be forced to cover next. I wonder if, in the first place, all of this is happening because our eyes were covered all along. Are we heading to a time when staying safe becomes akin to a death sentence with stay of execution?

Do you need me to get you some condoms? I think I have a coupon.

Some people have contracted HIV during their separate endeavours to give someone or some people a curable STD.

I'd inquired him about being safe, he had reached into the drawer of the beside table and drawn out a satin-lined box of condoms. "Standard rock-star equipment," he'd said with a sly smile.

Your generation has been the target of incredible disinformation on the subject of premarital sex, which is another enticing addictive behavior to be considered. In this instance, our own government is responsible for much of the confusion. For some thirty years, federal and state programs have promoted a concept its promoters call "safe sex," which refers to the use of condoms in sexual intercourse. Billions of dollars have been spent telling young people that they can have sex—lots of really good sex—without suffering from the consequences of it. Condoms, they say, will solve all the problems.

Ha ha. Ian, c’mon, we need to focus or we won’t have anything to tell the kids in the morning. So far we’re just going to unroll a condom onto a banana—which, despite how common that seems to be in sex-ed pop culture, I’ve never actually done. What if it breaks? The boys will be turned off of safe sex forever.

Julie and Mark, who are sister and brother, are traveling together in France. They are both on summer vacation from college. One night they are staying alone in a cabin near the beach. They decide that it would be interesting and fun if they tried making love. At the very least it would be a new experience for each of them. Julie is already taking birth control pills, but Mark uses a condom too, just to be safe. They both enjoy it, but they decide not to do it again. They keep that night as a special secret between them, which makes them feel even closer to each other. So what do you think about this? Was it wrong for them to have sex?

Too few are asking us the questions to get to the depths of black queer boys' traumas. What is it that you desire but have been denied? What is that you need to feel safe? How do you actually feel about the person you had sex with? What is it about him you desire? What are the sources of your pain? Who hurt you? Who first told you that your sexual desires and attractions were wrong? Does it feel better when you use a condom? Do you feel more connected when you don't use a condom at all? What is it about that particular connection that fulfills you? To ask those questions would mean black boys and men would have to be seen, first, as bleeding, crying, vulnerable and sometimes resilient human persons. We are breakable...Black same-sex love is revolutionary because we must first convince ourselves we are deserving of receiving and giving what has been denied us for so long.

Dear Young Black Males, If you’re going to be sexual active, please strap up. Wear a condom. STD rates amongst African-American males and females are ridiculously higher than any other ethnic group. Did you know that African-Americans are the most affected by HIV? Yes, it’s true! You’ve got to educate yourself. There’s no reason for you to be uneducated about safe sex. You can Google information from reliable sources, go on YouTube, or visit your doctor to get helpful information. Don’t be afraid to ask questions, be afraid of what STD(s) you can get. And for the record: If you contract HIV, you’ll have to live with it for the rest of your life. Many people think that they’re immune when it comes to catching something, but nobody’s exempt. Believe that! Protect yourself or risk being infected. Just because somebody looks good, doesn’t mean that they’re safe or cool to fool around with. Don’t be fooled!

Warm hands held her firm as he settled between her legs. His warm, wet tongue drew lazy circles around her sensitive flesh, so gently at first, she hovered between pleasure and pain, and then harder, faster, until the ache inside her blossomed into edgy need. He slid one thick finger into her wet heat, and then another, a sensual intrusion that stole her breath. And then his lips closed around her aching nub. She cried out, throwing back her head, hands fisting his hair, pleasure cresting and flooding through her veins, trickling out to her fingers and toes. With a low growl, he pushed up and sheathed himself with a condom he pulled from his pocket. On instinct, she rolled her hips, wrapped her legs around his hips to pull him close. Liam grabbed the edge of her headboard with one strong arm and plunged inside her. She gasped at the exquisite sensation and tightened her legs around him. Need pulsed beneath her skin. "Move, Liam. Please. I won't break." Her body took over, hands gripping his thick biceps, hips rocking, taking him deeper. A strangled groan escaped his lips and he gripped her hip so hard she knew his fingers would leave bruises. Braced against her headboard, he pulled out and pushed in deep and hard, shoulders straining as he gave in to her demands, filling a need she didn't know had existed, taking her outside of herself, beyond control. The bed squeaked, swayed. The headboard hammered against the wall in time to the rhythm of his thrusts. Need coiled inside her, tighter and tighter, until finally she peaked. Her spine arched, her orgasm sweeping through her body in a tidal wave of pleasure, filling her with heat. Liam growled her name, corded throat tightening, muscles going rigid as he followed her into oblivion. The sound of wood splintering startled her, made her heart jump. Liam dropped down, covering her with his body as the headboard split in two and crashed down on top of them. "Oh my God." She panted beneath him. "We broke the bed. Are you okay?" Liam heaved the headboard up so she could slip out from underneath him. When she was safely away, he lifted it onto the floor and gave a satisfied growl. "Now, that was good sex.

In the early hours of the morning she turned her swollen face toward Mike and opened her eyes—or tried to. One was partially shut because of the swelling. He scooted closer. “Brie,” he whispered. “It’s me, Brie. I’m here.” She put her hands over her face and cried out. “No! No!” He took gentle hold of her wrists. “Brie! It’s me. It’s Mike. It’s okay.” But he couldn’t pull her hands away from her face. “Please,” she whimpered pitifully. “I don’t want you to see this….” “Honey, I saw you already,” he said. “I’ve been sitting here for hours. Let it go,” he said. “It’s okay.” She let him slowly pull her hands away from her battered face. “Why? Why are you here? You shouldn’t be here!” “Jack wanted me to help him understand what was happening with the investigation. But I wanted to be here. Brie, I wanted to be here for you.” He brushed her brow gently. “You’re going to be okay.” “He… He got my gun….” “The police know, honey. You didn’t do anything wrong.” “He’s so dangerous. I tried to get him—that’s why he did this. I was going to put him away for life.” Mike’s jaw pulsed, but he kept his voice soft. “It’s okay, Brie. It’s over now.” “Did they find him?” she asked. “Did they pick him up?” Oh, how he wished she wouldn’t ask that. “Not yet.” “Do you know why he didn’t kill me?” she asked, a tear running out of her swollen eye and down over the bridge of her purple nose. He tenderly wiped it away. “He said he didn’t want me to die. He wanted me to try to get him again, and watch him walk again. He wore a condom.” “Aw, honey…” “I’m going to get him, Mike.” “Please… Don’t think about that now. I’ll get the nurse. Get you another sedative.” He put the light on and the nurse came immediately. “Brie needs something to help her go back to sleep.” “Sure,” the nurse said. “I’m just going to wake up again,” she said. “And I’m just going to think the same things.” “Try to rest,” he said, leaning over to kiss her brow. “I’ll be right here. And there’s an officer outside your door. You’re completely safe.” “Mike,” she whispered. She held his hand for a long moment. “Did Jack ask you to come?” “No,” he said, gently touching her brow. “But when I found out what happened, I had to come,” he whispered. “I had to.” After having a sedative administered into the IV, she gently closed her eyes again. Her hand slipped out of his and he sat back in his chair. Then, his elbows on his knees and his face buried in his hands, he silently wept. *

When will it all be over? When will she have time to think and feel again? Presumably not till the baby is a teenager and can safely fend for himself. Although, of course, teenagers need to be taught to drive and say no to drugs and wear condoms.

And some materials also claim that condoms are ineffective because students who can't “exercise self-control to remain abstinent” are not likely to “exercise self-control” and use a condom. That's like saying we shouldn't teach our kids safe drinking techniques because those who choose to drink underage can't control themselves anyway—so we should just let them binge drink without any guidance at all.

Introductions should be to the point. Afterwords can go all over the show. Even so, I know there were a few things I planned to say, back when I started. I've got it written down somewhere, on a napkin. You ready? Okay. The US healthcare system stinks; friendship's important; sex is never that simple; and cats do whatever the fuck they want to. That's all. Thank you, drive safely, use a condom. Don't make too much noise leaving. Goodnight.

Protected sex is, to Mother Nature, sex between a human and a doll.

Gabe’s heart stopped. This was it, this was the moment he died. In the condom aisle of a CVS, at the age of thirty-one, because his father had told him to practice safe sex.

Condoms and fandangle size: penile sizes vary: Southeast Asian condoms, for example, may be rather small, while African ones are large. The shape of penises is also very diverse, so not all condoms fit all comers

She knew about the church: how they said that the people of Ireland couldn’t be trusted with cartwheels, nor could they be trusted with knickers, nor could they be trusted with condoms (illegal until the eighties). They couldn’t be trusted with speaking the word condom, understanding that a condom fitted over a penis, or hearing the word penis when muttered in passing by a doctor (let alone the word vagina.) They couldn’t be trusted with homosexuality (illegal until the nineties), or heterosexuality, if your definition of it allowed for the experience of pleasure at another person’s body, or your own. The people of Ireland weren’t to be trusted with bodies. They weren’t to acknowledge bodies. The existence of bodies was to be flat-out denied. As for bisexuality, that was unheard of at the time, but if it had been heard of, surely the people of Ireland could not have been trusted with that either. Crucially, the people of Ireland could not be trusted with pregnancy, with safe childbirth or safe childhood, and above all, they couldn’t be trusted with abortion (illegal until this year).

provide no stable framework for ethics. Contraception minimizes the risk of unwanted pregnancy, thus facilitating sex as recreation without the need for the context of a long-term stable relationship. Condoms curtail the spread of sexually transmitted diseases and therefore enable “safe sex” in the gay community. Mutual consent moves to the center of discussions about what is and is not acceptable sexual behavior. And this, in its turn, places huge pressure on even the most deeply rooted of sexual taboos. Why should incest be prohibited if it is between consenting adults and there is no risk of conception?

There is no such thing as safe sex, since no one can create a condom for the soul.

Routinely in Africa and Asia, women stay safe until they marry, and then they contract AIDS from their husbands. In Cambodia, a twenty-seven-year-old former prostitute told us of her struggles with AIDS, and we assumed that she had caught the virus in the brothel. “Oh, no,” she said. “I got AIDS later, from my husband. In the brothel, I always used condoms. But when I was married, I didn’t use a condom. A woman with a husband is in much more danger than a girl in a brothel.

I'm all about safe fruit. After I peel a banana, I roll on a condom.

Helms then sponsored the amendment banning the use of federal funds in support of HIV/AIDS prevention and education on the grounds that teaching “safe sex” and condom use meant promoting homosexual activities in violation of antisodomy laws and moral values. The result was to prevent the federal government from taking action to defend public health.

Women still bear the vast brunt of the physical, emotional, and organizational labor involved in contraceptive use — whether any devices are available at all, whether they are safe or not, and when they fail. For the majority of the world’s women modern contraceptive measures such as the pill, condoms, injectibles, or IUDS are simply not an option—a situation that is exacerbated by the matricidal policies toward abortion and family planning by many of the world’s wealthiest countries (only family planning based on abstinence was supported under the “pro-Africa” Bush administration — a policy with extremely deleterious consequences for the ability of anti-retroviral treatment to prevent the spread of AIDS as well as for rates of maternal and child mortality). Access to safe, affordable, or free abortion is similarly limited. Famously, there is no country in the world where women have the legal right freely to make up their own minds about termination or continuation of pregnancy. Thus, despite the emphasis by many modern democratic nations on the protection of various individual rights and freedoms, women’s reproductive rights remain in an essentially pre-modern condition—a condition decried by both Firestone and Beauvoir as biological feudalism.

For long seconds, neither of them moved. The only sound in the forest was the wind luffing through the trees, their labored breathing, and the soft thud of their heartbeats. Then Call muttered something beneath his breath. Gathering his long limbs, he lifted himself away from her and regained his feet. His shaft was still hard, big and thick and jutting forward through his open fly as if they hadn’t just made wildly passionate love. Call rid himself of the condom, zipped his faded jeans, and turned to find her groping for her sweater, pulling it on to cover her naked breasts. Swearing, he reached down and snatched up her jeans and pink satin panties, which were tangled together and refused to come apart. “Here.” She blushed as he unwound the fabric, handing her first the panties, then the jeans, which she hurriedly pulled on. She didn’t look at him. Her cheeks were hot and her lacy pink bra still lay embarrassingly on the ground. She snatched it up and stuffed it into the pocket of her jeans. Charity swallowed, made herself turn and face him, tried to muster some sort of smile. “I…um…I don’t suppose we can blame this on your relief at finding me alive and safe.” He shook his head, his eyes still fixed on her face. “I don’t think so.” “Just lust then, I suppose.” He shrugged those wide shoulders and she wished he would put his shirt back on so she didn’t have to remember all that smooth muscle moving beneath her hands. “So it’s just a one-night stand.” His head came up. Eyes as blue as the sky bored into her. “In case you haven’t noticed, the sun is still up.” “The sun is always up in this place. What does that have to do with anything?” He pulled on his shirt and she suddenly wished he were bare-chested again. “It has to do with the fact that the night hasn’t even begun.” Her eyebrows shot up. “You’re not…you’re not saying what I think you are.” “I’m saying exactly what you think I am. If you believe what just happened is anything besides a warm-up, sugar, you had better think again. If I wasn’t worried that Maude might sent the Mounties up here to find us if we don’t get back soon, we’d start over again right here.” “B-but you said…we both said--” “I know exactly what we said. It’s a little late to be worrying about that now.” He looked at her and his deep voice softened. “Besides, I never really believed one night with you would be enough.” Relief trickled through her. Whatever was happening between them, it wasn’t over yet. She gave him a reluctant smile. “I never believed it either.” “Come on.” Call reached out and caught her hand. “It’s Friday. We’ve got the whole weekend ahead of us. Maybe by Monday, we’ll have had enough of each other.” “Maybe,” she said. But Charity didn’t really believe it and from the burning glance Call gave her, she didn’t think he did either.

I learn a lot about people by spending time up to my elbows in their rubbish. Dustbins are like safe deposit boxes: they contain secrets that people had thought would disappear. By counting how many condoms they throw away, you can tell if and how often a couple makes love to each other; a girl's empty perfume bottles will tell what to send her as a gift; discarded tickets from venues and shows tell you where to take them on a date; if you make a note of all the creams someone uses, you'll find out just where their insecurities lie. Tell me what you throw away, and I'll tell you what you are.

In theory, condom promotions ought to work everywhere. And intuitively, some condom use ought to be better than no use. But that’s not what the research in Africa shows. Why not? One reason is “risk compensation.” That is, when people think they’re made safe by using condoms at least some of the time, they actually engage in riskier sex.