Branching out

After that, Paul got to thinking. Liz was great but... her fantasies were a bit tame. If it hadn’t been for his doctor, he wouldn’t have become able to cum six times in a row while staying hard. If it hadn’t been for Freddie, he wouldn’t have gotten to plow someone with a cock much too big for her (which did bring a certain kind of animalistic joy).

He could spend his time perfectly happily with Liz... except for the wonder about what he was missing. He had an incredible gift, but its full realization depended on his partners’ fantasies. Who knew just how much he was missing? It was a tough decision, but... he’d have to play the field for a while.

It took him a while to build up the resolve and the courage to break the news to Liz. Finally, one night when they were lying in bed spooning after a hot round of sex, he just blurted out “I think we should see other people.” He hated himself for saying it so suddenly as soon as it was out of his mouth.

Liz didn’t respond right away. Paul wondered what she was feeling. Heartbroken? Angry? Desperate? The silence dragged on. Just as Paul was beginning to worry that maybe she was just going to ignore what he’d said, she replied:

“Okay.”

…

Had she just ignored what he’d said? Or mis-heard him? “Okay?” he repeated dumbly.

“I mean, I probably won’t see other people,” began Liz. “But you can if you like. I think it will be good for you.” Paul was dumbstruck. “It’s been pretty clear for some time that you’re too much man for one woman to handle. I love fucking you, but two or even three times a day? It’s just too much.” Paul remained slackjawed. “So yeah, if you want to see other people on the side, that’s fine. Just promise you’ll still fuck me at least once every two days.”

“I, uh, I promise.”

“Good, that’s settled then,” finished Liz, and she snuggled back closer into Paul’s body.

It took Paul nearly two minutes to realize that he’d just won the relationship jackpot.

So, Paul got back into the dating scene. Sort of. It wasn’t exactly dating, because he was open about the fact that he was looking for no-strings-attached sex. If you have ever been an average-looking guy looking for NSA sex with women, you know that it’s not easy to find. This was frustrating for Paul: he was likely the best lay a woman would ever have, but they didn’t know that. Assuring them of that fact didn’t often work.

But one time, it did. He’d approached an athletic brunette with long legs, pert tits, and a nose too large to be conventionally attractive. After a bit of ice-breaking, he admitted he was just looking for sex, not a relationship.

She replied “Psh. When I want a meaningless orgasm, I have toys for that.”

Paul tried to press his case. “I promise I’m better than toys in every way.”

She was skeptical. “You can’t be better than toys in every way.”

“I swear it.” Paul was speaking fast to try to salvage this chance. “I’ll bet on it.”

She rolled her eyes, but didn’t turn away. “And what do I get if I win the bet?”

“Um, how about I… buy you a new toy?”

She considered this. “I like expensive toys. I’ve had my eye on one that’s about $250. Once I find a way you’re not better than a toy, will you buy me that one?”

Shit, this is starting to feel kind of like prostitution, Paul thought. But he was pretty sure he’d win the bet. “Deal. But what sex toy costs $250?”

“I’ll show you.” She pulled out her phone, and pretty quickly brought up a shop page for a large ridged vibrating dildo, with a rabbit-style clit stimulator. It cost $237 before shipping. “As you can see, I like them big, so I think we can settle this now. You’re worse than a toy because you’re smaller than this toy.”

It was a big toy. The site said 10”, a bit bigger than the cock Paul was currently sporting, though not too much. He wasn’t worried. “Actually I’m not smaller than it,” he said.

“Bullshit.” She quickly replied.

He gestured – hopefully discreetly enough for a public place – at his bulge. He was starting to chub, so it was pretty considerable.

“You’re stuffing.”

“I’m not. There’s a way for you to find out.”

Paul meant that they could go somewhere private and start getting it on, but she took it differently and reached over – not discreetly enough for a public place – and groped him through his jeans. His cock pulsed, though Paul wasn’t sure if that was just from horniness or if it had just become her fantasy.

Her eyebrows shot up as her lips pursed. “Okay,” she said, “let’s go back to my place.”