Welcome to my first Wicked Wednesday short. Again many links back to the lovely Eroticon, especially for the introduction to sponsors Fuck.com who have inspired this story.
Pandora visits Fuck.com
“I signed up for a dating agency last night.”
“Oh.” He says, as though I am discussing the chance of rain.
“Didn’t know if you felt bi-curious or bi-sexual?”
The choked sound from across the kitchen is funny. As is his decision to keep making his coffee as though it hadn’t happened. I let him stew.
This is fantasy and I am making it real. Not waiting or hoping for some miracle intervention that will take us from two to three. I am looking. Shopping. I love him, my man and I want him sexually fulfilled, not stunted by our traditional monogamous lifestyle simply because that is the thing we fell into. Monogamy because we can’t imagine anything else is boredom. Monogamy because the idea of touching someone of someone touching us is abhorrent is precious. I don’t want him bored.
Making it real may cement that difference for both of us.
“As long as I’m the one doing the fucking. Pitching not catching. You get the drift.” And I do, because I know him well. Well enough to know this is our moment.
He sits with his coffee and the aroma fills the air with familiarity. Domesticity. If this was it for us, it would be fine.
I don’t know how to broach this with him, without it sounding like a plea for commitment. He knows I’ve had a few adventures before him, whereas he stuck to the traditional one girlfriend at a time. He knows I like women as much as men. He knows I don’t even need the binary definition to fancy someone.
Sometimes he mimics double entry, fat butt plugs and deeply plunging fingers the substitute for… no not substitute, just different. I think he know that and is frightened I might get bored. I long to be held against a strong body while he ruts against the pair of us. The quiet fucks where I rock between them. To feel a different cock, a different angle, a different scent and taste. Is this it? Forever?
I think that would be alright too.
“Go with bi-sexual.” He says.
I open the web-site. I lied when I said “dating”. I meant “fucking”.
I bring up the empty profile boxes. “You do that bit.” He dismissively waves me past the description of him to the boxes where he can state what he wants. “Trans?” I hum a non-answer. He passes over, but I store away that it raised a comment.
“What do I like?” I have to think for a second whether he is really asking or musing aloud. Blood from a stone. Maybe he is going to baulk at this. He sips he coffee and I can imagine the taste in his kiss. Imagine his as the only kiss I taste.
“When I imagine a guy, he’s no bigger than me.” This time his pause gives me time to consider the sudden burst of arousal I feel.
“He’s clean and tidy on the outside, bad boy on the under his clothes. I know you have a thing for piercings, so yeah, I’d like him to have pierced nipples, maybe a PA.”
I didn’t even know you knew what a PA was.
“Younger. I think younger would be nice. And smoother. Can you check the bit for less body hair?”
Bursts of excitement explode in my muscles, more like fireworks than butterflies. He is paying more attention now to the screen.
“Dominant. You need to put me as active there. My bed, my rules.”
“Careful. You’ll have my eye out with those.” He stares pointedly at my nipples which are doing their best to wave at my webcam. Fuck, I feel so tight and turned on, but I don’t want to disturb him. The fantasy in our bed one thing. But in our kitchen? It is a powerful and heady thing.
He takes the computer from me and clicks between the windows. The clatter of the keys and the scrape of finger nails across the surface rapid and energetic. I take his coffee and sip it feeling the burst of warmth and flavour. I usually drink tea. Bland and comforting. But this is a coffee moment. Full and rich and vibrant.
“Desires and Fantasies? You type. You’re faster than me.” He pushes the keyboard to me and takes back his coffee. I absorb the tiny intimacy even as a process the rush of want for this suddenly tangible ‘more’.
“I want to feel his cock in your arse as I fill your pussy.” Cold and hot all at once. Blood rushing as though it has no idea where it is needed. He never talks like this and the words sound wrong and so fucking right. Suddenly I can imagine him in full technicolour doing just that. Fucking me and a stranger as though this was the most normal thing to be planning on a Tuesday tea-time.
“Want to fuck him into you. Watch him eat you out.” You pause, a wicked gleam in your eye. “Watch him eat my jizz from your cunt.” There. That moment. That is your fantasy. Your moment for yourself. Not for me. I wonder if you would take a blow job from this man. Whether that is in your lexicon of bi-sexual? I would like to watch.
“Type it!” My hands, stilled as I lost myself in fantasy, jump against the keys. The rest of my body is somewhere else. Feeling that mouth. Your cock. Your breath. Feel the heat from your knee, pressed against mine below the knotty pine. Here. Now.
We upload the profile. It is a fragile thing, coming out as an open couple. Open to possibilities. Open to hurting each other. Something has changed, as though this two now needs to become three to have that feeling of completeness again. Something we had that is now gone.
This fantasy is now real. A fact in cyberspace. An idea that for the thinking cannot be recalled.
All that remains is hope.