Does your fantasy partner have any exotic features regarding their eyes? (Ex. Heterochromia, unusual pupil shapes, biolumenescence, etc.)

Does your fantasy partner have any exotic features regarding their eyes? (Ex. Heterochromia, unusual pupil shapes, biolumenescence, etc.)

***

I awoke with the soft pulse of arousal. The night before had really worked me up, it seemed. I was asleep on the couch, alone, though I had fallen asleep with Charlie laying his head on my chest.

After I took the pills he fetched the laptop and true to his word, cuddled while I filled out the questionnaire. It was awkward at first, Charlie repeatedly correcting my answers to be more accurate whenever I tried to make my answers more in line with him.

1. Assuming the impossible, what is your fantasy partner’s sex and presentation?

I tried to write ‘male, male presenting’ but Charlie looked up at me with disapproval. “You need to be honest. Please.”

“For the past year, you’ve been the only fantasy I have.”

“I’ve seen your type. Your exes could be clones. And didn’t you have a thing for making them wear a strap under their clothes?”

“Charlie, that’s fantasy shit. I want real.”

“It says fantasy partner, and to assume the impossible. I just want to see how you tick.”

1. Assuming the impossible, what is your fantasy partner’s sex and presentation?

Hermaphrodite, girly

It was awkward to write out. I knew what I did made Charlie feel unattractive, and I was afraid that these questions were going to neglect how much I valued our connection. They seemed weirdly specific, disjointed, and many were egging on the description of impossible fantasies, which made me concerned that Charlie would feel inadequate trying to accommodate them.

“I swear to God, it’s just a fantasy—“ I started, but he put a hand on my cheek, looking into my eyes like a puppy. His other hand pulled my wrist from the keyboard.

“Don’t push this, but look what you’re doing to me.” He shakily guided my hand down to his lap, where I could feel a rigid shape in his jeans. He was hard as a rock! Fuck, I wanted him so bad, but he just as soon put my hand back on the keyboard. “I wanna hear everything.”

4. Is your fantasy partner short, tall, or average?

Average, but I have to be taller than them.

17. Describe your favorite fantasy involving public places.

Fucking a girl someplace, and when we get caught, acting like we’re doing nothing wrong. I’d flip off whoever interrupted, but wouldn’t stop what I was doing as my partner dies of embarrassment.

Charlie grunted, shifting against me, emboldening my descriptions to get more detailed, my fantasies more ****.

63. Does your fantasy partner like piss?

She’s addicted to mine. Wouldn’t ever tolerate me going anywhere but in her mouth.

69. Describe the perfect pair of boobs.

Big, firm, perky bolt ons. Perfectly round and bouncy without any sag. NOT misshapen hackjobs. Tight, defined nipples that bulge so much you have to suck ‘em.

I could feel Charlie’s breath sharpen as he curled into me. He wasn’t saying a word, but he most definitely egged me on. It was strangely the most open I’d ever felt him be about sex.

84. Describe the perfect penis.

So long that it can barely get hard. Dicks are most beautiful when at half-chub, like a floppy, writhing dildo. Difficult to hide.

“Oh, fuck…”

My heart fluttered, my clit flexed. “Yeah, you like that?”

“K-keep going…”

The sound of a pan clanging onto the stove brought me back to the present. I was laying on the couch, alone, my hand grinding away under my waistband. I hadn’t even realized I was touching myself.

I sat up and looked behind me to see Charlie grabbing the ingredients for pancakes in the kitchen, trying not to look at me. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even realize… I promise I wasn’t trying to push.” I remembered him leaving when we finished the questionnaire. After question 13 or so, we were giggling and joking and teasing each other. I’d even forgotten for a bit why we were doing it in the first place, it felt like we used to. I misread the situation and tried unzipping his pants when we finished.

“It’s ok. Still, uh, worked up over last night, eh?”

I nodded, sliding my hand out of my waistband and wiping it on my yoga pants. “I hope I didn’t write anything embarrassing.” I wryfully scratched the back of my neck.

He smiled, and it wasn’t sad. I knew he smiled a lot last night, too, but now I could really see it. For the first time in a long time I knew there wasn’t a brave face. “Skinny girl with big fake tits and a big and floppy dick?” He laughed.

I face palmed and sunk into the couch in good humored embarrassment. “So, where are you gonna post it?” The humiliation did feel kinda hot.

“Oh, the questionnaire’s under an NDA.” He answered.

“You didn’t make me sign anything.” I joked back.

“Why don’t you turn on the TV and we can watch something over breakfast?”

I turned around again, confirming he was serious. We hadn’t watched any of our shows in months. Excitedly, I turned on the TV, confronted with all the apps we’d never signed into since the move. “Babe, what’s the password for… anything, I guess.”

“Uh, I can’t remember,” he said, pouring batter into the pan. “I think the password book’s on the desk in the guest room.” I pushed myself off the couch and ran down the hall, as if he’d change his mind if I wasn’t fast enough.

The room was a disaster. Charlie worked hard to keep the rest of the house clean, but his hopefully temporary room was an explosion. Still packed cardboard boxes littered the far half of the room. Power tools, wood off-cuts, paint cans, and scattered invoices covered the rest. There was only a narrow path to get to the unmade bed and the small desk with the laptop and a few stacked books.

Though I wanted to respect his privacy, my eyes did catch what was on the laptop. A google search for gyms in the area. This caught my attention given that he’d set me up a small gym in the basement. Brushing off the oddity, I saw the leather notebook of our passwords on the desk and picked it up. Under it was an extremely worn copy of Navigating Betrayal: A Guide to Grieving an Affair. It’s sudden appearance gave me the same reaction as if I’d just been jumpscared during a horror movie. I’d seen the book many times, but it hurt to see he was still rereading it. Whatever last night was, I knew it wasn’t a whim.

Charlie was a research guy. When things exploded, he got every book, listened to every podcast, browsed every forum. Gave him a sense of control, I supposed. I didn’t like researching what I should do, relying on my gut. Research took time, and often the best opportunity you could seize would pass you by the time the rulebook explained what to look for.

Not wanting to spend a suspicious amount of time in his room, I left, holding the notebook up triumphantly. He smiled, finishing cooking as I signed into Netflix. At his request for something we’ve already seen before, I put on one of his favorite sitcoms, hoping it would keep him beside me longer. It was Saturday, so I had no work to get to.

We ate silently, Charlie finishing quickly, swishing water around his mouth. My heart spasmed when I felt him scoot closer and grab my hand. “You’re gorgeous.” He kissed my fingers, pausing. “You touched yourself with this hand…” He took one of my fingers into his mouth, gently—always gently—sucking it.

“Yes…” I moaned, both as answer and exclamation.

“I’ve missed your taste… You’ve been so patient.”

“Baby, please.” My legs instinctively parted, fire burning inside me as my nipples stiffened. I was a light switch. At least when it came to turning me on.

He slid off the couch, landing on his knees. He looked up at me with those eager, submissive eyes. His hand pushed my V-neck up, prompting me to pull it off as he lowered his lips to my sternum. “These are new.” He giggled lewdly, running his fingers over my quivering abs.

“Th-thanks. I grew them myself.” I chuckled, eliciting a wry smile from my long lost lover. The playfulness was something I only ever got from Charlie. I’d missed it as much as the rest of sex.

His lips lavished my tummy with affection. I flexed so he could get a better feel, something he rewarded with a delighted grunt. “Fuck, I need you.”

“Well,” he grinned, slowly kissing his way to my waistband. “Something’s a bit in the way.” I yanked my legs up and pushed the pants and panties up my legs. I had intended to roll them all the way off, but the second my pussy was exposed, he was on it with a wet kiss and hungry tongue. My legs, locked by the waistband now at my knees, fell down on his shoulders, locking his head against my groin.

I didn’t last long. Charlie was rusty at giving head, but I had been pent up for 18 months, now. And even rusty, it was one of his favorite things to do. He was, as in the world outside the bedroom, always too generous. I seized up, bucking against his face, screaming his praises for the whole ride. I must’ve been cumming for almost a minute.

I panted, tears rolling down my eyes, watching lovingly as he slid his head out from the trap my yoga pants made for him. “N-now you!” I begged, lifting my legs again. He sat next to me, rubbing my shoulder. The sad smile was back.

“Soon. I promise.” I lowered my legs, unable to hide my disappointment. “I swear to you, I will be ready, again, soon. I can feel it. It’s not years away, or months away. It’s soon. And I promise to tell you explicitly when that day comes.”

“No.” I shook my head, pulling my leggings up. “The very second you’re ready, Charlie Washington, you don’t say a word. I don’t care if I’m working, I don’t care if we’re at the store, I need you the very instant. If I’m asleep you wake me up or, so help me, God.”

***

We spent most of the day moving Charlie’s things into the master bedroom. I had to contain my squealing. The relief I felt after my shower and seeing his half of the closet filled almost made me cry. We were back on track. It felt like we were finally making progress. And not just steps, but leaps and bounds.

Charlie let me make dinner for the two of us, which we had on the back porch, overlooking the lake. Something we only did the first night he refurbished the deck. “I didn’t want to snoop, but why were you looking up gyms?”

He smiled, swallowing a forkful of spaghetti. “Well, I know we made the home gym, but now that I’ve got the big renovations finished, and, I thought it was high time we started going to places in town aside from the essentials. I wanna start volunteering at the humane society.” He got a little nervous before continuing “I thought getting a personal trainer or signing you up for a fitness class might be a good way for you to make friends.”

I froze, staring out at the setting sun, disappearing behind the mountain. “You, uh… you’d trust that?” I asked. “Trust me, again?” The gym had been my cover story for a lot of the affair. And it was also where my old friend group congregated. I’d met them there and they got me sucked up into a twisted sense of reality.

He hesitated. “I’m… anxious. But, yes. I can’t be your warden. And it breaks my heart seeing you cooped up in the house with a paranoid avoidant. Have to start somewhere.”

I did have to admit, I missed going out. Having people to talk to. I especially missed the gym. It was a place away from home where I could feel at peace.

“I’d um… go with you. On weekends.” He added, a little ashamed. To keep an eye on me? I almost asked, defensively, but caught myself. I couldn’t think like that.

“That sounds really good. Thank you.”

He perked up. “We can ride up tomorrow and get memberships?”

I nodded, finishing my last bite, holding my hand so that he could grab if he wanted to. Our fingers interlocked and we just watched the sky grow dark together.

“Did you take your pills?” He asked as we stepped inside, pointing to the orange bottle.