Under Cupid's Contract (Love Under Lockdown)

I got the head in with no major trouble. Her pussy seemed to be adjusting to the feeling of having me in there, so I was able to keep going. I eased in, slowly getting my thick shaft inside her. The pace was achingly slow, but worth every moment

My pelvis pressed up against her pussy, marking the end of the line. She hadn’t even reacted when I slid inside her, no gasp or shudder or whimper of pain. She just continued to lie beneath me, dark yes looking up with absolute trust and supreme pleasure.

Withdrawing to about half-mast, I started to move, rocking my cock in and out of her freshly deflowered pussy. Her gentle hips and soft moans following each ebb and flow. Her fingers dug into my shoulders as I moved in her, as if she never wanted to let me go.

As the climax shuddered through me, my eyes opened, and I realized that I was alone on my own couch

Sleep, at least the dreaming kind, had been such a stranger, I hadn’t recognized it when it came back around. There were many who held that dreams, even wet dreams, were prophetic. A window into intent, if not the future. The fates sending directions to help things along their way. I couldn’t be sure, but also wasn’t willing to take the chance. Gambling with forces unknown rarely turned out well, and this draw to Vega surely meant something.

Chapter Five - Vega

The bacon popped and sizzled like a fireworks display. I kept a watchful eye, chrome flipper ever at the ready, as I swayed in time to some classic Django Reinhardt. The night had brought some strange and wonderful dreams, leaving me in the mood for dancing. If nothing else, it was a satisfying physical outlet for the happy feelings bubbling through me.

The heavy plate weighing on my hands, I marched the short distance back to her center of my existence. My father would have a fit. Generally, he couldn’t tell a keyboard from a keychain, but even so, he had some very specific ideas about how to conduct oneself around the computer. Like a convert to a religion who becomes more devout than those who were raised in it. Almost as though they have something to prove.

Never mind that his concerns were almost entirely economic. The price of a new computer, on the off chance anything went wrong, was really his primary motivator. I’d never really noticed it made much difference. Mostly because I didn’t actually drink around it, liquid damage being the biggest issue.

Even then though, I only had to replace the Bluetooth keyboard, not the entire system. Daddy was still getting his news from the 1980s. Much like his hair, music and fashion sense.

Drawing me out of my thoughts, the computer beep-booted in a very specific and familiar way, instantly reminding of submarine sonar.

It wasn’t until I saw the signature, there was only one person I knew who signed their texts, that things came into focus.

It was the first direct, personal contact I’d had with Hugo since he sent my acceptance. There were notes on the assignments he gave me, but they were more instructions than communications. They might as well have been sent by a bot for all the emotion they contained.

My mind still went back to that first email though. As well as the photograph. I’d found more after a lot of looking. Even so, the black and white shot was still my favorite. It was like that one revealed the most of his soul. To think, there were once people who thought cameras stole them.

I was absolutely into him and we’d never actually met. One of the oddest conundrums of the digital revolution. Socializing from a distance. A notion my parents would have thought mad, but where really did correspondence start and socialization end?

People socialize on the phone. Granted, it was usually people they already knew, but that just went to demonstrate that the phone was the tool. The thing that established contact. Were computers really so different? Particularly with the voice and video capabilities they had? Did not sharing a physical space really preclude the possibility of ‘proper’ socializing? Or did the traditionalists just have bug up their butt about how things had changed since their day?

True, Hugo and I had only ever communicated through text, though that was enough. At least enough to tell me I wanted more.

I tapped out a reply as fast as I could. It was, no doubt, filled with mistakes. One that probably would have embarrassed me under most other circumstances. I was an editor after all. Still, if felt imperative that I reply as soon as possible. Let him know that I was there.

He responded within seconds. Nothing too serious. Just asking how the book was going and if I’d looked it. He could have just been trying to get a feel for the kind of thing I liked. Particularly as he’d likely figured out I’d been shot-gunning my assignment requests. He might just have been trying to get a feel for the real me.