The early morning sunlight filtered through my east-facing blinds and cast a glow upon us as I woke up face-to-face with my One True Love. I couldn’t hold back a smile at the placid expression on her pretty face, slightly worn by time’s affection for her complexion. “(I love you,)” I whispered.
She huffed and, keeping her eyes closed and her semi-hard cock inside me, replied, “You’re gonna be telling me that every chance you get, now, aren’tcha?”
I played with a lock of her hair. “I never thought I’d ever fall in love, never even knew what love was, but now that I’ve done it… I can’t control myself.”
“That’s inconvenient. If you honestly mean the words you keep saying, you’d be doing me a favor by finding a way to tell me how you feel with another sentence.”
“You mean—you don’t like it when I say… (those three words?)”
“Unless you can find others to whisper into my ear every five seconds, I would prefer that you leave your feelings unsaid.”
“Oh—kay… Then I won’t say them ever again. But I think it would be fair for you to explain why you don’t like them.”
She sighed and grumbled. “Because… one of my exes, my first, would say those words every time he—” She shook her head. “I’ll spare you the details. He did something that was… that I didn’t like. Ever since, those words have had a tendency to reopen old wounds.”
“Oh, my God…” Her discomfort and panicked behavior the night before made more sense.
“Yep.”
“I hurt you last night.”
“The constant stream of declarations of your feelings for me ever since I told you ‘I’m with you’ have been… (hmmm…) hellish, to put it gently.”
“Oh, God… I’m so sorry.”
“I’ll be fine.” She breathed deeply, rearranged her pillows, laid her head back down upon them, and slowly unveiled a smile as she continued. “Because between you saying those cursed words over and over again, the sex has been absolutely heavenly.”
I smirked bashfully. “‘Heavenly’? I’m flattered, but that’s a very strong word to describe your experience with a complete novice.”
She stroked my cheek. “Andy, my dearest Andy… as the object of my devotion, you deserve to know something. As soon as you started lowering yourself onto my cock, I wanted nothing more than to pull you down onto it, hump you until my dick exploded, deliberately not pull out, and fill your pussy with my cum until it gushed like a firehose after I pulled out and you were guaranteed to conceive.”
My jaw dropped.
“Are you disturbed?”
“Ah—Uh—It’s—just—a little shocking to hear someone admit something like that!”
“I suppose it is. If it’s any consolation to your guilt-ridden mind, the sex that came last night more than makes up for the endless painful declarations…” And then she smirked lasciviously. “…and I’m trying not to think about how extremely fertile you are—about how I might have knocked you up last night—about how your pretty little body is going to look in a few months when you start to show and you can no longer hide the fact that you’ve got our progeny growing inside you.” She drew me in with her embrace and in the process pulled me down onto her cock—pushing a moan out of me, tickling my desires to kiss, to fuck, to mate—and pressed her balls—which I had over the course of seven more fucks the night before wrung for every sperm they could produce, each twitch of her cock sending a bolt of lightning to the pleasure center of my gray matter and inducing me to worship her with greater and greater fervor—and pressed her balls against my inner thighs, and sighed contentedly. “God, that would be wonderful. I’d fuck you harder and harder as your belly gets bigger and bigger… and more and more beautiful.” She was granite inside me.
Once again, I found myself panting speechlessly and digging my fingers into her luscious ass, fighting the desire to resume extracting her semen, a desire that intensified as her confession grew more shocking and as she slipped further inside me.
“If you were wondering why I let you say those words to your heart’s content for the past several hours, that should be plenty of explanation. But if you need me to spell it out for you: I have never wanted to get a person pregnant as much as I’ve wanted to get you pregnant, ever since you first displayed for my enjoyment your naked, petite, inviting, maternally ideal body within the intimacy of your bed. I’ve been fantasizing—obsessing—about fertilizing your egg with my sperm and watching your belly slowly swell as our embryo grows and grows until it emerges from you as a living child. Our child.”
I hardly noticed that my heart was racing or that I was struggling to catch my breath or that I had begun slowly humping her. ((What… the… fuck.)) And yet, in addition to panic and shock and concern, I felt something else I wasn’t ready to admit. “Uh—um—so—” I swallowed. “You—like—” I was blushing so hard that my face was developing a second-degree burn. I was confused by many aspects of this sudden and bizarre turn in our conversation. “Preg—nant…”
She giggled. “Do you still feel the same way about me that you did a few minutes ago?”
“I—I… don’t— Yes, of course—b—but—” My thoughts gradually caught up with my confused feelings. I turned my lustful eyes away from hers and towards the picture of Peter on my nightstand, in the hopes that he might bless me with his guidance. ((She wants me to conceive. She wants me to get pregnant.)) But I recalled my newly discovered instinct to ride her until she reached orgasm, I remembered what it was like for her to lay her body on mine all night, fucking me over and over again, her dick planted inside me from beginning to conclusion, never once leaving my warmth over the course of several mutual orgasms, inside me even after we collapsed and concluded our marathon of doing what came naturally to us because—
{You and me, baby, ain’t nothin’ but mammals…}
I had to admit… I already wanted her to plant her seed inside me, and pregnancy certainly followed as a topic if not a possibility. I wasn’t disgusted or insulted by the idea of her admiring my changing body—or of admiring it myself. ((It’s so satisfying to feel her twitch-twitch-twitch inside me, so validating to know that my body fills her with such an overwhelming desire to reproduce, so empowering to know that my vagina feels so good to her that she won’t be able to stop herself from ejaculating inside me every time I tell her I want it, so exhilarating when it finally blooms within my loins… So why not enjoy the next step of letting my abdomen grow for a few months, one more sexy curve to add to all the sexy curves I already have? Why not embrace this quirky little hobby she enjoys? And yet… I don’t think I want… children… I certainly don’t want children, I definitely do not want children, I don’t want children, I don’t want children… Children are out of the question, seriously, so I’m not going to give us an actual pregnancy. I will not…)) I swallowed, and every pore in my skin threatened to open up and pour like a fire hydrant as my humping continued to speed up. ((It’s too early for children, we can’t have them yet, I don’t want children, I don’t want them, really, they aren’t for me… not… not quite yet…)) My breaths and my hips quickened yet more. ((I refuse to want children.)) I tried not to panic. ((Unless…)) I swallowed. ((Unless she asks for them. If she does, I must give her as many as she wants. Lots of babies. Not only that, I should go above and beyond and give her more than she asks for. Double—no, triple!—the babies she asks for. Mountains of babies. Yes. But only if she asks for them. Though… I could ask her to ask me for lots of babies…))
“Andy, other than your moaning, you’ve been quiet. Are you alright?”
“I’m… (ah…) fine… (hah…) You?”
“I’d feel better knowing how you feel about my breeding kink—as well as my pregnancy fetish. Does any of this make you… uncomfortable?”
“No. I’m… (hah…) fine.” I gasped and panted. “Everything is—(hah)—is okay. I feel the same way about you that I’ve—(mmh)—always felt—but I’ll admit this news—(oh)—is a little… umm…” I searched for a diplomatic word to express my shock while concealing my germinating enthusiasm. “…unexpected. But… if you were to ask for children…” If I had been capable of being honest with myself, I would have known that my enthusiasm was unmistakable in the ravenous thrusting of my hips.
“I just like the look of a pregnant belly. Another relatively common fetish. I’m not planning on having kids.”
“(Oh,)” I replied with an emotion I would not have admitted to feeling even though I knew damn well what it was. In case you’re wondering, it rhymed with ‘missed appointment’.
“Do you want children?”
“Oh, no-no-no, of course—(mmm)—not, I’m… (relieved…) you don’t want any. So relieved, not… disappointed. Thank God. (Oh, yes…) Whew. I… dodged a bullet.”
“If you don’t want children, then you shouldn’t have them, no matter what I want.”
I stopped humping her. “But I—I feel so strongly for you. If you ever do find yourself wanting to have children, I’ll produce them non-stop until either you say ‘when’ or my eggs run out. And I would be happy to bear them and give birth to them for you and raise them with you. We could have lots of babies… if—if that’s what you want, I mean. No pressure—I mean, not that I want to have them—but—I mean, if you want them, I want them.” I bit my lip anxiously.
An eyebrow slowly floated upwards. “I’ll let you know if I change my mind.”
“Thank you. Now, on the subject of me getting pregnant… I would rather avoid having children.” Nervously I added, “For now.”
She shook her head and smiled. “Then avoid them we shall. ‘For now.’”
I breathed a zero-hearted sigh of relief. “(However…) If you enjoy these fantasies of getting me pregnant as much as you seem to enjoy them… we could do it when I’m not ovulating and just pretend that I’m ovulating.”
“You mean, like, roleplay?”
“Is that all roleplay is? It’s just pretend?”
“Put as simply as possible, yes. But there’s more to it than simple make-believe.”
“Alright. Do a lot of people have this impregnation kink?”
“It’s relatively common as a kink, though you won’t meet a lot of people willing to admit they’re into it. Most anybody you might tell about it will find it stupid or weird or gross or uncomfortable or offensive. Or, at the opposite extreme, too vanilla, if you ask particularly snobby kinksters.”
“So… it’s a trashy kink.”
She nodded her head left and right in agreement. “Hmmm… yeah. I’m kink trash. And proud.” She beamed, and I smiled nervously. “Not a lot of people I meet are as proud of me, though.”
“You must feel lonely.”
“I actually know somebody with the same kink—though they probably wouldn’t admit it.”
“Maybe you should encourage them to be honest with themself.”
“Nah. You’re cool with me having the kink, and for the time being that’s enough honesty for me.” She patted me on the cheek. Her dig went right over my head. “God… I felt so satisfied, so triumphant witnessing my cum spill out of you and onto my stomach… I told you about this kink even though I was deathly afraid that you might reject me, that you might find it offensive that I would objectify your body as a baby factory. Because in a way, it… is objectification. Objectification of both of us, with the mindset that you and me are nothing but mammals, incapable of controlling ourselves.”
“I have no problem with you finding my reproductive system sexy, if that’s what pleases you.”
“I shouldn’t, though, if you don’t like it.”
I shrugged. “I’ve been objectified my entire life. Lately, I’ve been objectifying myself. I’ve been thinking about how sexy my body and face are, and how I would ravish myself if only my reflection was a real person, without giving a damn about her desires and dreams.”
Her eyelids spread wide. “Holy… shit, that is one of the hottest things I’ve ever heard anybody say.”
“Having let the matter steep… if you find my fertility alluring, then by all means, talk about how beautiful my pregnant body would be and jerk off to your mental image of it. Hell, Peter thought Demi Moore looked ‘fantastic’ in Vanity Fair’s ‘dazzling’ photo of her ‘in all her nude, pregnant glory’, and… now that I think about it, I understand where he was coming from. And I agree with him, 100 percent. So why not commission an artist to make a life-size, photorealistic oil painting of me, nude and pregnant, so you don’t have to use your imagination? You could hang it up on your living room wall for your visitors to admire—or lust over… Hell, I might even lust over it myself.”
She blinked. “Uh. Wow. So you… are totally unfazed by my fetish.”
“I’m not merely unfazed—I’m happy to indulge your fantasies.”
“Jeez, I… uh… thought I’d gone a little overboard while describing my fetishes, but I guess there was nothing to worry about.”
“Seriously, there’s no way you can fuck up so baby—I mean ‘badly’—” She giggled. “—uh… that I would be offended.” ((Do I have any kinks?)) I wasn’t quite ready to accept the answer. “But even if you were into something weirder, I would still lo—be with you, as much as I’ve been with you so far. I wouldn’t judge you. Not for this, not for yiffing—which is innocent enough—not for just about anything, I suppose. I might not be eager to explore every kink… but I’ll always respect you being into whatever you’re into, and I’ll try my hardest to work through my reservations to please you.”
For a few seconds she buried herself in thought, and as she eventually emerged she struggled with her reply. “Andy… for as long as you stick to that promise… I will trust you with my heart and my body. Which is to say, I…” She took a deep breath. “(…love you.)”
Her declaration that she would always trust me, compounded by her decision to speak the words she couldn’t bear to hear, affected me so strongly that I could feel my throat constrict and my tear ducts open up instantly; at the same time, her promise filled me with such intense satisfaction that I was unable to express myself with words. So I kissed her, and that kiss eventually turned into guiding her back inside. While she was on top of me, halfway through the second stretch of pumping away, while I was kissing and licking her neck, she sprung a doozy on me. “In fact, I trust and—feel for you so strongly, that if you ever hurt me, no matter how bad it is… I’ll forgive you.”
I stopped kissing. “That sounds… easily abused.”
“It is.”
“So I’ll have to try—(hah)—extra hard not to hurt you.”
She smiled a very innocent-looking smile, which grew more wicked over the course of the next few seconds. “Not (necessarily…)”
“Why shouldn’t I?”
“You might even… be a little (reckless.)”
“You aren’t—(mh)—making sense.”
She fondled one of my curls playfully. “To put it another way, Miss Bachman… it should be obvious to you that it would be unwise for me—a criminal who could face half a year behind bars for possessing more weed than the legal limit—to get the police involved if you persisted, in spite of my tearful pleas and terrified whimpering, in committing some horrible, cruel act upon my body. If you catch my drift.”
((Is she really saying she wants me to…?)) “I might—(hah)—commit the occasional infraction, even though I’m—(fuck)—going to try my best not to. But I’m not… comfortable with what you’re proposing—(if) I’m catching your—(mh)—drift. And if you don’t mind me being honest… I find your drift a little… bit… (hah…) disturbing.”
“You said you wouldn’t judge me.”
“Yes, but… I… can’t… do something you don’t want—(mh)—me to do, the concept of me deliberately hurting you makes me—(ngh)—want to put distance between us to prevent it from happening, to protect youuu from myself.”
“But I want you to do things I don’t want you to do.”
“I don’t know if I can…”
“You said you’d try to work through your reservations.”
“Yes—but—I—really don’t think—”
{I tie her down when she ‘isn’t in the mood’, wrap my fingers around the balls that are rightfully mine and, amid pleas for me to be gentle, squeeze an agonized yelp from her throat. She doesn’t get off on asking me to stop. “Please, Andy, be gentle…” Rather, it’s hearing me tell her, “I’ll play with my toys however I please,” that makes her agonized groans hornier.
{I tackle her and handcuff her wrists behind her back, then bring her to her knees. “Eat,” I tell her. She shakes her head timidly. In response to her flaccid refusal I yank her hair, and with “reluctant” obedience she aggressively gets to work on my pussy. She can’t help revealing that her so-called reluctance is actually restrained eagerness.
{“Please, Andy,” she begs, “I can’t take it, it’s too big.” “I know what I’m doing,” I ‘reassure’ her. The giant dildo doesn’t hurt her, but she cries out in agony anyway as I continue pushing it inside her. “Not so deep,” she pleads, even as her moaning betrays her pleasure. By “I can’t take it” she’s really trying to tell me I haven’t reached her prostate and need to go deeper.}
Fantasies flashed through my brain like a cluster of lightning strikes all hitting the same person—namely, me—one after another, each leaving me with cheeks glowing redder and redder and with sweat threatening to burst from my pores like tap water from a lawn sprinkler. ((She wouldn’t tell me not to do something with the expectation that I’ll do it—would she? Maybe she would. Even so, I shouldn’t do it. ‘No’ means ‘no’. Even if she clearly wants it…))
“I don’t want to do anything with you that you tell me you don’t want,” I insisted, in spite of the heat building up inside me.
She hid her grin behind a sheer frown. With a nonchalant shrug she told me, “If you’re not comfortable with it, I’m not going to force you to force yourself on me. But we can still have something simulating what I’m asking for, if you don’t mind. How do you feel about roleplaying it?”
“Okay. Fine,” I replied, eager to please her—and relieved, albeit ashamed, that there was a way to ethically indulge these new fantasies she had smuggled into my mind. “We can do that, if you really want it that badly. Although you haven’t explained the differences between roleplay and pretend yet.”
“The important difference is that we discuss the rules, boundaries, roles, and stage ahead of time—the scene—starting with a safeword.”
“I’ve heard of safewords, but never had them explained to me.”
“The concept is intuitive enough. We pick a specific word that no one’s going to casually drop during sex, and if your partner uses that word you stop everything immediately and check in with each other. That way you can safely ignore the kinds of words that would normally revoke consent or modify its terms, like ‘stop’ and ‘no’ and ‘slow down’ and ‘pull out’. Make sense?”
“Like two plus two equals four. What’s our safeword?”
“I like ‘red’ as in ‘red light’, which keeps things simple so you don’t have to think about it, while not being the kind of word that comes up too often during a scene. Unless one of us is roleplaying as a firefighter or a fox.”
“Just like Diane said, R-E-D to stop everything immediately.”
She smiled. “Andy, what we did last night… That was the best sex I’ve ever had.”
I smirked. “Really, now… Would you care to explain how someone who was a virgin scarcely two days ago could possibly be that good?”
“Certainly. One of my most cherished fantasies, one which I assumed and despaired would never come true, has been having someone force me to cum inside their fertile body—bred against my will. You came as close to making one of my wildest dreams come true as you could get without committing a felony.” ((Oh, I suppose that makes sense.)) “You… are my soulmate.”
{Soulmate, soulmate, soulmate, soulmate…} That word echoed in my head forever. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God—I’m so—I’m so happy! I’m overjoyed!”
She brushed her hand over my hair. “As am I.”
I sorely wanted to express my gratitude to her, so I pushed myself to please her. “Umm… So… Now that we have a safeword, we can… try this ‘bred against your will’ fantasy you’ve always had.”
Her smile bloomed into a grin. “That is exactly what I wanted to hear! I want you to shove my raw cock into your pussy and flood it with my cum while you talk about the thousands in child support I’m going to be paying you every month for the next eighteen years…” She sighed contentedly.
The idea intrigued me more than I was comfortable admitting. “Well—I don’t know if I—right away, can…”
“Only if you want to, though.”
((I… might… be… a little… interested…)) “I—um—may—be…”
“And I would enjoy it even more if I wasn’t expecting it.”
((Ohhhh! You want it to be a big surprise, eh? Alright. I can tickle this desire unawares. You won’t see it coming.)) “Well, if we’re only doing what I want to do, I’ll tell you now, ‘Don’t count on it, Judy.’”
“Oh.” Never had greater disappointment overshadowed a human face.
I felt horrible for disappointing her in the moment, but I figured it would be so much more pleasurable in the long run if I waited a little while before {I tie her down and interrogate her about her gross income and talk about paternity tests and court orders and sole custody while riding her red-hot cock ready to blow a load inside me and knock me up, and…} I opened my eyes and escaped the confusing fantasy before it could steal me away from reality forever. “I’m… sorry. Please don’t be excruciatingly disappointed.”
She spread a wan but reassuring smile. “It’s not a… big deal, I’m not used to my partners entertaining any of my fantasies. I’ve gotten gigaparsecs farther with you than with anyone else while discussing these things—before you, just calmly explaining the things I was into always ended in me being called a freak immediately followed by a breakup. I’m overjoyed that you don’t think I’m a freak for liking what I like, and on top of that, you said you’d act out one of my fantasies with me—and I would like to emphasize that this has never happened before. I can live without the child support gag if it makes you uncomfortable, it’s… just a minor detail, not… nothing important. On the whole, this morning has been very, very, very generous to me.” As she went on, her mouth went from smiling half-heartedly to beaming. She gave me a peck on the forehead and for some reason started to pull out.
“Oh-no-n-n-no, you aren’t going anywhere with that!” I wrapped my legs around her waist and squeezed tightly, aggressively grabbing her by the balls and forcing her back inside me with a shocked gasp from my mate. “I’m not finished with this thing, Judy. You aren’t pulling out until you can no longer maintain a hard-on.” With a pair of grins we resumed fucking.
After four more mutual orgasms, I checked my alarm clock. “6:38. Damn, with that heartfelt conversation and all that sex, we musta been up since 5 o’clock. I need to make a phone call.”
“I should mosey on over to Mercers Pharmacy while you’re taking care of that.”
“I appreciate you picking up the pill for me. But… I don’t want you to pull out, yet. I wish you never had to pull out.”
She kissed the crown of my head. “There’s nothing saying we have to start our days right away…”
“True.” I sighed. “But… I need to get in the habit of starting my day on time, and we’re already running late.”
“Alright, then. No choice. Gotta pull out.”
Fighting the desire to be one with her while clinging to my desire to be a genuine police homicide detective, I slid myself as slowly as I could off of her dick, eliciting a gasp and a twitch from her and a moan from me. As a waterfall of semen cascaded down and across my thigh and onto the sheets where it formed a pool the size of a melted scoop of vanilla ice cream, I muttered, “(Damn, I hope that doesn’t stain…)”
She whistled in amusement and began playing with the puddle. “God, what a beautiful creampie.”
“It feels like a part of me is missing,” I complained.
“What part would that be?”
“Your cock, of course.”
“You’re such a sappy romantic, Andrea Bachman.”
“I’m your romantic. And you shouldn’t make fun of me for being a romantic when you’re the one who called us ‘soulmates’.” The word excited me. I had my eyes on the future—spending time with her, having sex with her, doing things that weren’t sex but sex-adjacent, having more sex with her, carbo loading to restore our energy to fuel yet another sex marathon…
“You’re right. We’re both sappy romantics. Now, let’s get our days started.”
After a quick shower, I chose a cream shirt and a charcoal jacket and pants, and rather than put my hair up with the usual utilitarian black elastic liga, I elected for a blue ribbon I had purchased during our shopping spree. I looked in my closet door mirror and gloried in positively hazardous self-admiration for the sharp figure I cut.
((What a sexy bitch you are, Andrea Bachman, how irresistibly beautiful! Those vibrant eyes, that cute little nose, those luscious lips, those perky tits, those hazardous hips, that bountiful ass…))
I imagined myself with child. ((Bigger tits, bigger ass, curvy baby bump; I’ll need a second wardrobe for the half of the year that my non-pregnancy clothes don’t fit. I could experiment with different styles every time I get knocked up—though if our children are all Irish twins it might be simpler to just put these brand-new clothes into storage and wear maternity clothes until I enter menopause…))
((I’ll be like Demi Moore, so beautiful that all the magazines will be crawling over each other like crabs to put my nudes on their covers. All these decades I never shut up about how ugly and ‘stout’ I am, because something between my eyes and my brain was warping my reflection. Only now have I realized the obvious truth the mirror was trying to tell me:))
((I’m hotter than Hell in July.))
“Lookin’ good, Bachman. Going somewhere?”
“No, I’m just being fancy for the sake of being fancy.” ((All these years, I’ve been so fuckable, but I never once thought to actually find someone to do the deed with. I’ve been missing out. On the other hand… I might never have gotten with Judy if I hadn’t been a sad virgin all this time.)) “And maybe, y’know, thirsting over my own body.”
“Ha! It’s good to know your self-esteem is thriving, now.”
“‘Thriving’, hm? I suppose you can say it is.” I checked out my posterior—and was reminded once again that my new pants looked just as good at home as they did in the store. I put on my navy coat and continued admiring myself in the mirror; the way it sloped down my back and over my ass was just as pleasing as what my pants were doing, and the way it draped over my tits had a modest—yet aggressively feminine—allure. ((Professionalism incarnate. Try firing me again now that I look this good.))
She checked herself out in the mirror, in her tattered-yet-stylish outfit, vaguely evocative of some counterculture of the last quarter of the twentieth century. “Lucky. I wish I was a tiny piping-hot tamale like you.”
“I think your body is magnificent—you’re tall and…” I groped her arms. “…I can feel your firm muscles…” I cupped her cheeks. “…yet your face is so soft and beautifully textured. I’m going to enjoy using it for my own pleasure.”
“Ah. You’ve revived my hard-on.”
“You’re welcome.” I glanced down at her crotch. “Are you tucking?”
“Yes.”
“Could you maybe… um… let me see what your pants look when you’re not tucking?”
She rolled her eyes, but obliged me by unfastening, rearranging, and refastening. There was a very noticeable bulge that ran down the right leg of her pants. As I stared at it I felt the flood I was expecting, but decided I would change my panties after I was finished with her very erect cock. I leveled my face with her crotch and rubbed the lump in her pant leg, squeezed it, and panted lustily.
“Andy…”
I unfastened her pants all over again, pulled them down to reveal her cock, and got to work with my lips and tongue. “Andy…”
“Whah’th uhb?” I asked through a mouthful of dick.
“You have a schedule.”
I removed my mouth and started stroking it. “We have a couple minutes to spare.”
She sighed. “Fine.”
“Yesss!” I just about tore off my pants and nearly knocked her over when I leaped onto her and wrapped my legs around her hips. I pulled my panties aside to let her guide herself in, and I sighed as she filled me. As she helped me ride her I told her, “Penetration—(hah)—is such an exquisite sensation.”
“I always—(mm)—imagined it to be.”
“Ah… If I could, I would—(mhh)—keep your cock inside me—(hah)—24/7.”
“I never would have guessed.”
I nodded. “Seriously! I really like your cock.” She chuckled. “What? It’s true! It’s my favorite thing in the world.”
“Your favorite?”
“Yes. I wish I could take it with me everywh—where.”
“There are kits for—(ahh)—making dildo clones of real penises.”
“Christmas present. N—no. Just get it now, so I’ll have something—ing to use if I get bored at work.”
“At work?”
“I’m joking! I know better than to—(ooo) do sexual things at work.”
“I should hope so, you don’t want to get fired again.”
As soon as we were both decent again—and the resulting puddle on the plastic ‘hardwood’ floor had been mopped up—I woke my phone. “7:08, Vice is open for business. I’m gonna make the call.”
She finished inspecting her hair as she replied, “Alright, you do that. I’m going to change into some fresh clothes before I pick up your morning after. Ta-ta.” She took her first steps across the threshold as a committed woman.
“Wait. Have you watched The Princess Bride?”
“Of course I have.”
“Watch it with me sometime?”
“As you wish.” She winked before softly closing the door behind her.
Suddenly I was the most alone I’d ever been. I wanted her to come back. I needed her. I opened the door and peeked my head out. She was gone. Without thinking to lock or even close my door I ran to hers and readied my fist to knock.
((I can’t spend every waking moment with her.))
(((But I must.)))
((I’ll never get anything done.))
(((She’s mine.)))
((I have a life outside of her.))
(((I do not. She has a life inside of me.)))
((I have a dream.))
(((I have a delusion. Forget it.)))
((I have to rescue Alex.))
(((He is dead. Forget him.)))
((I promised to find him, though!))
(((Promises mean nothing, only she means anything. Forget heroism. Embrace love.)))
((There is more to life than love.))
(((I am bonded with her. There is only love and devotion to one person. Forget the world.)))
((I love her, I am devoted to her, but I am a human being with other needs and dreams and desires besides her. A dream neglected dies a most tragic death—and the sharper the dream, the more deeply cuts its demise.))
(((…)))
((Well?))
(((Fine. I’ll live my life, if I must insist.)))
I returned to my apartment and fought my grief over her departure for several minutes, until I was finally able to break through and remind myself, “I must get down to business. I must.”