Does your fantasy partner have any fetishes that you don’t have?

Does your fantasy partner have any fetishes that you don’t have?

***

Fuck, I’m good at my job! Francis Lu had been a tough cookie to crack. He was young and had one breakout success and thought he had a name. But his clothes were for young and slutty people who had a sizeable allowance. His style was flashy and revealing. The pricepoint he wanted was for old money people who were decidedly less young and more considerate with their money and were buying from the same designer since they were thirty. He wanted the wealthy, but he needed to target the rich. While they were still building brand loyalties.

The conversation lasted three hours, despite me never going on the backfoot. It was difficult. I had two glasses of wine and hadn’t even felt so much as a gentle buzz to sharpen my tongue. All I felt was horny.

My eyes kept looking at the model samples left on the table. I had shuffled through them at some point and had left one featuring a particularly tall model in a very revealing dress. Initially it had been to drive home my point that older people with the money he wanted to grab would not be interested. But as the lunch went on, I couldn’t stop staring at the picture, pretending to consider it.

Larger than life! Was one of the slogans we’d been playing with, and this model’s picture was from that test shoot. They’d placed her next to a shrunken car that only came up to her hip at its roof, and had her hold a shrunken champagne flute that looked more the size of a shot glass. It wasn’t a good marketing campaign, but the model was gorgeous.

Lu was a very eccentric man. Even to a fancy restaurant, he’d worn a leather tanktop to showcase his admittedly built arms. That had been my in, discussing our workout regimens. I built a report with him, asking who dyed his hair, complementing his crimson red eye-contacts—“makes you look assertive!”

I threw the numbers at him of how many units he’d have to sell vs demand at both price points. I gave him comps of launches in a similar style. Production numbers, which retailors were set up to buy and their demographics. And, taking a page out of Charlie’s book, I tipped our waitress 50% just to project the wealth he so desperately wanted.

I called Dane on the limo ride back, giving him a very brief, “He’s still on.” My hand furiously rubbing my clit in the backseat. Dane was ecstatic, but I barely even heard him.

“You are the fucking best!” He’d laughed before I hung up to tend to my needs.

Was I really getting off to my own business negotiation skills? Maybe I missed this job way more than I thought. I groaned in frustration seeing Dane waiting outside to greet me. I quickly wiped my fingers clean with a wet wipe and stepped out without an orgasm.

Fuck, the way that shirt showed off his muscles… I had never been attracted to Dane, and I still wasn’t—muscular men didn’t do it for me. But I definitely needed to get one of those shirts. Maybe one even tighter.

“So, what’s the tough pill I have to swallow?” He’d asked, shaking my hand with a wide, childish grin that took another two years off his face. I furrowed my brow in an exaggerated expression of confusion.

“Deal as written.”

Dane laughed, squeezing my elbow. “We should celebrate.”

“I will.” I agreed, still pushing down the burning in my pants. “Back at the hotel and on a call with my husband.” I broke off the handshake. “You have some investor calls to make and I need to meet with Legal to send him over an agreement he can’t just walk away from this time.”

He looked at me with a hard, studying gaze, his age once again showing. Perhaps even his wisdom. “You’re serious about this?” He asked. I gave him a very hard look and nodded. He looked down at his feet, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Ok, then.” He nodded, motioning for me to lead the way back in the building.

Fuck, I’m so fucking horny. The heat was unbearable. I checked my watch as the elevator doors opened. I’d meet with Legal, then head out to the hotel. Video sex with Charlie sounded so hot right now. Maybe Mommy calls her baby girl to make up for lunch?

Bad girl! Job first.

I slipped my way to the annex where we kept our legal department, making sure not to be seen by marketing. Fuck these heels suck. I’ve barely walked today and my feet are already starting to hurt. “Hey, Dahlia, I need to talk to either Chris or Michelle. It’s important.” I said to the girl sitting at the desk outside their office.

She nodded and picked up her phone, calling into the PA and asking for my entry. “Yes, ma’am, she says its important.” Dahlia nodded, pulling the phone from her ear and looking at me. “Michelle is available, but she just started pumping if that’s ok with you?”

“Pumping?” I furrowed my brow. “Oh, that’s right. Had the baby.” I remembered. “Uh, yeah, sure. That’s fine.” I just need to do this quick and then go back to the hotel. Dahlia waved me behind her and I stepped into Michelle’s office. She was sat behind her desk, highlighting a document, giving no reaction as I entered. Fixed to her chest were pumps, the suction cups slid into her maternity bra.

“Close the door, please.” She said with a disinterested tone, a request I complied with, though for some reason my eyes could not pull away from the bottles hanging from her pumps, each one slowly dribbling milk into the bottom. “Go ahead and stare. I do not care as long as we stay on topic. I have the sitter until 5:30 and can’t stay late.”

“Right, sorry.” I shook my head, closing my eyes just to not look at them. Fuck. Since when was lactation hot? Michelle was a very no-nonsense woman who knew exactly what she wanted out of life. Easy to work with, but had no sense of humor. “Congrats, by the way.”

“Thank you. Please sit.” She finally filed away the paper she had been highlighting as I sat down across from her, struggling to keep my eyes off the silhouettes of her nipples being tugged.

“How’s motherhood treating you?” Michelle had decided to get a sperm donor and have a child on her own, apparently finding no suitable life partner. I had signed the card when she left for maternity leave three months ago, but it seemed she only went away long enough to pop the kid out and then came right back to work.

“I only do small talk with people who give me eye contact, Mrs. Washington.” She uncapped a pen.

“Shit, sorry—“

“I’d really rather you look and stay on topic. As I said, I’m on a time crunch. I assume this is about Mr. Lu?”

Fuck, look at ‘em go. Lucky kid.

I’m not sure I ever looked away from her chest the entire meeting. It had been mostly brief, only about 15 minutes confirming the details of our previous agreement before emailing it over to Lu’s manager. But with soaked panties, a hissing breast pump, and the boring legalese, it felt much longer.

Michelle dismissed me and I ran to the elevator to go to the building garage where a company car was waiting for me to claim for the week. If it weren’t for the dashcam filming inside the car, I’d have jilled myself right then and there. But instead I furiously navigated shitty Portland rush hour traffic that turned a twenty minute drive into an hour.

The hotel was called Duchess, a luxury hotel that knew me and Mary quite well. Last night after my arrival, they had sent a bottle of champagne to my room, assuming business as usual. I had to clarify with the front desk not to do any of what they had referred to as ‘the usual.’ I didn’t want Mary requesting a room key and then the staff just assuming she belonged.

As I ran down the hall to my room, I found myself grabbing my phone from my pocket and trying to FaceTime Charlie. My other hand fumbled with my room key as my phone chimed over and over again.

“C’mon. Pick up.” I grumbled, pushing my door open and stepping in. Immediately I set my phone on the bathroom counter, kicking off my snug heels and unbuttoning my slacks. My phone chirped, indicating that he hadn’t picked up. I pressed the call button again and dropped my panties, my hands working on my buttons. The call didn’t connect, again. “Ugh!” I snatched my phone off the counter and started texting.

Me: Mommy needs phone sex

Me: right now

Me: fucking horny as hell

Me: call

My hand started working circles at my clit waiting for his response, the other sending the flurry of messages.

Me: plz prnicess

Me: *princess

God, those fat fucking udders…

Charlie’s bubble popped up, indicating that he was typing. “No! Don’t type! Fucking call me! With video!” I groaned, watching the bubble disappear. Then reappear. Then disappear again. Then, finally, a short message.

My Light: This is a really bad time.

Immediately I pulled up his location, seeing that he was just at home.

Me: Ur home. Jus lemme see u stroke it

Me: &here u whomper

Me: *whimper

My Light: *hear

Me: horny. Ur fault. Fix my horny not my grammer

His three dots popped up again for too long, then disappeared. No, fuck that.

I pulled up my camera app and walked over to the full length mirror in the bathroom. When’d I get sweaty, again? It didn’t matter, my abs looked awesome. My tits looked awesome. I posed for the camera, flexing my bicep and abs, spreading my legs to show off my wet pussy, too. Damn, my muscles looked good! I started rubbing myself again, admiring how hot I was before going back to our chat, forcing my masturbation to slow so I didn’t cum before I was ready. But I couldn’t stop entirely.

I sent Charlie the picture and his bubble disappeared. “Got you, bitch!” I laughed, biting my lower lip. Any second now and he’d call.

My Light: NO

Ow… Not what a woman wanted to hear after sending a really good nude.

My Light: NO

My Light: NO

My Light: NO

My Light: NO

My Light: NO

My Light: NO

My Light: NO

My Light: NO

My Light: NO

My Light: NO

My Light: NO

He flooded our chat until my picture was pushed out of view, then he sent another flurry of texts just to keep the initiative.

My Light: Listen to me

My Light: I cannot do this right now

My Light: Please

My Light: I’m doing a surprise for you

My Light: And I need to focus

My Light: Or it all gets ruined

Anger boiled up inside of me, enough to distract from my arousal so I could type with both hands.

Me: I said I was sorry about lunch, ok?

Me: Shit happens

Me: But you can’t just withhold from me over something like that

Me: you’re being petty

My Light: Love, I’m not withholding. I’m just doing something that is VERY important, ok? And if I fuck it up, it has really REALLY bad consequences. I promise you’ll like this.

My Light: Please trust me?

Me: Whatever. I’m not foghting.

Me: Fighting. Don’t waste your time correcting it. You’re not a teacher anymore.

I couldn’t believe he was being so petty. Yes, I’d fucked up with lunch, but I was trying to stick to our after work call and he blew it off. I was fighting for my fucking career over here. Our future. He couldn’t just jerk off a bit for me? It was my dick. I claimed it when he took my last name. If only I could actually have done that…

Fuck!

My hips spasmed, some liquid dribbling out of me and onto the bathroom floor. Charlie seemed to think it was squirting, but I knew that wasn’t a real thing. Granted mine was very low in volume and velocity, especially compared to the vids of girls pissing themselves and calling it an orgasm. But I’d never done it before last week. And now it happened every time I came, which was weird.

Still horny.

I went to the bed and fished my tablet out of my bag. I opened it up and got comfortable as I opened my Reddit app. Some people had porn alt accounts, but I only used Reddit for the porn. It had forums organized by fetishes and made for great mindless scrolling. Unlike a lot of porn sites or social media, it didn’t shuffle random bullshit into your home page. Everything there was what I’d subscribed to see.

The first post was absolutely golden, from the Futanari subreddit.

A short, funny comic of a woman sleeping next to her much larger, stronger, futa partner. The futa, through convenient positioning, rolls on top of the now awake woman, the futa’s oversized cock sliding its way into the woman and hardening. The woman tries to wake her partner, but—of course—remembers how heavy of a sleeper the futa is. After several failed attempts from the woman to break free resulted in stimulating the trapped penis to orgasm, the futa rolled over onto her back, hugging the smaller woman tight and pounding her for the final three hours of the night—dreaming of carrying a heavy barrel while pogo-sticking. The final panel was the futa waking up and cheekily accusing the exhausted and dazed woman of being a nympho as cum floods out of her.

I came twice reading it and was really surprised at the art. It wasn’t super rare to find art that was both good and porn, but the artist had a distinct style I didn’t recognize. Fortunately, it seemed the post was from the artist themselves promoting their patreon. And they’d been making these comics and drawings for many years. My credit card info was saved on my tablet and I figured I had the money to nab their $100/month option to unlock all the features.

It seemed a lot of their stuff followed these two characters, Freya the futa and Wendy the woman. Their dynamics were often adorable and a little wholesome despite the meanspirited nature of most of the plots. Usually they involved Freya being careless in a way that put Wendy into sexually humiliating situations. Or Wendy being clumsy in a way that put herself in sexually humiliating situations. In all cases, Wendy came out looking like a massive pervert to all outside observers. It was hot every time.

But I really felt connected to Freya. She was a huge pervert who constantly received gratification, but always came out looking and feeling like the normal one in their dynamic because of the absurd circumstances. She was tall, muscular, and absurdly well hung. So well hung it would have been a health hazard if Wendy wasn’t a cartoon.

Wendy was smart, thoughtful, and sweet. Always trying to do nice things for people or especially Freya, that just never quite went to plan. But nobody ever saw that in Wendy. She always just ended up looking like little more than a cock-crazed nympho to everyone else by the final frame.

But despite the mean spirited plots, the tone and dynamic was always playful and upbeat. The joke was always on Wendy, but she never seemed too upset.

The one I spent the most time masturbating to in those hours was one where, through the typically absurd series of unfortunate events, Wendy had accidentally been hypnotized to act like a baby and Freya had accidentally taken a lactation serum. Wendy was having so many clever thoughts on how to convey to Freya how to end the hypnosis, only for Freya to misinterpret them as attempts to deepen the roleplay. Watching Freya nurse and fuck Wendy at the same time was such a sexy visual, I couldn’t help but imagine myself as Freya…

“Yeah, good girl.” I mimicked holding a head to my chest, rubbing my swollen clit. So many hours masturbating had rendered my groin feeling odd. Swollen. When I came, there was a small spurt of whatever was coming out of my vagina. Stronger and in a more substantial quantity. Like a single shot from a water gun.

If I had a dick and it was cum, I wouldn’t have minded the mess as much. But I still thought it was my own pee, which I most certainly would not be sleeping in.

But it was only 7:00pm. And there were still more comics… I’d order new sheets after one more orgasm. Maybe two.

My phone chimed with an alarm. Take your pills! I rolled my eyes, silencing the alarm, considering what I wanted to do. I had promised. But he was being really petty. He was afraid of me cheating on him, but wasn’t going to help me with my desires?

“Where the actual fuck do you get off thinking a thought like that?” A voice inside my head that I didn’t recognize had said. It surprised me. Like hearing myself speak out loud. Wait, I had said it out loud! Where did that come from? I only talked to myself when I was drunk. “You cheat on him, spy on him, then run off to fucking Portland to see your mistress and partner-in-crime and think you get to choose what’s a priority for this relationship?”

Whoah! I was really letting myself have it. I felt woozy, my vision blurry as I popped the two pills in my mouth, swallowing with a sip from my water bottle. “That all marriage is to you? Huh? Fugginnn’ wha’everr yurrr pussy’s feelin’? ‘E’s makin’ you a saprize! An’ you wanna take annn attidude wiff him? Nah, don’ cry ‘bout it! Juzz tell ‘im ta buy sum’n ‘spensive. Not like giffs are ‘bout tha ffffought ya put inta it ya stupid… filfy… hhhhhhoooooorrrrrreeeee.”

I tried reaching for my phone to call an ambulance, but the world spun around on me and I was suddenly on the floor. Was I dying? Was this a stroke? It felt like I’d gone from completely sober to verge of blackout over the course of fifteen seconds. Then all at once I was sober again.

What the fuck was that? I winced, cautiously standing up and walking over to the mirror to check my pupils and make sure my smile wasn’t crooked. I didn’t smell toast. My pupils were fine, but I did notice how weirdly vibrant my blue eyes were in this lighting.

It really was like suddenly being drunk. But I hadn’t had any **** since starting the pills.

My mind flashed to the two glasses of wine I’d sipped at the restaurant this afternoon. “Fuck! Oh, nonononono!” They had basically been invisible to me! I ordered the same thing every time I went there and hadn’t even stopped to think about it once. My mind thought about how it seemed like something Freya would have done. Except those were cartoon characters with little fake chemicals that do whatever would be sexiest for the plot. I just mixed **** with nefarious black market pharmaceuticals inside of my real, actual human body.

My heart was racing as I texted Charlie.

Me: Actual emergency. Call me

Me: Now