It had been some time since I got to spend some alone time with Clark Kent. I didn’t see him Monday, but the following day at work, we texted each other constantly counting down the minutes until we’d be together again. I was going to his place after work. I knew he was horny, but I had a long day at work. I was a bit tired and waited to relax and lay around together. That wasn’t the case.

Warning: The following may be too graphic for some. We fooled around in bed for some time before he asked if he could f#ck me. I got into position, and we went at it. Something was different this time. He was going much deeper than usual. This didn’t hurt or provide discomfort. It actually felt good. When we were finished, we hopped in the shower to clean up.

Afterwards, we returned to the bed, and this time, it was my turn. He laid on his stomach with his back arched waiting for me to mount him. It was incredibly hot. The sex this time was a bit different as well. I was going deeper inside him. He expressed his pleasure derived from this and commented on how hard I was the whole time. The sex that night was purely amazing. We both thoroughly enjoyed ourselves and each other. Our chemistry was right on that night.

The plan was to spend the night in Hoboken. I had a Groupon to use up for a restaurant on the waterfront, Trinity, so we stopped there on the way back to my apartment. The conversation over dinner was great. We were both feeling very casual and catching up on everything we missed being separated over the weekend.

In the middle of one of our conversation I accidentally slipped the phrase “my kid.” I was hoping to gloss over it, and he wouldn’t notice. When I finished my sentence, he inquired, “You want a kid?” I explained that I did, but the timing was still to be determined. I turned the question on him, and he expressed the desire to have a kid. That’s when I told him my plan that would work should we decide to raise a child together. We both had sisters. I proposed that if his sister donated an egg, and my sperm fertilized it, it would be of the blood of both our families. That way, neither would be detached from that child. It would be a part of both of us. The same would work with his sperm and my sister’s egg. It does create the Aunt Mommy problem, but I still think it’s a great idea.

Everything just felt right. This guy was great. My mention of having kids one day didn’t even scare him off. If anything, he said it turned him on. Where did he come from? What did I do to deserve him? He was purely amazing.

When we finished, we walked home to my apartment. We talked about the sex we had earlier that evening. We discussed the deep penetration and how much pleasure we both got out of it. I loved our frank conversations. We could talk about anything.

When we got home, he passed out immediately. I stripped him of his clothes and got him ready for bed. I wasn’t quite ready yet. I had something to say first:

I said, “I have a word that is on the tip of my tongue. I find myself wanting to say it on numerous occasions, but I’m just not sure if I’m ready for it yet. We only know each other for a month, and I’m not trying to rush things, but I just wanted you to know where my head was at. I’m exceptionally fond of you. I love spending time with you. I love being with you. I love getting to know you…”

In a few moments, after dozing off, he woke again. He turned to me and had something to say. He stopped himself short. He wasn’t sure if I’d said something to him or if he dreamed it. He didn’t want to say it aloud in case he did dream it, but I insisted he tell me. I know he was analyzing what I’d said earlier, and I wanted to be sure he heard me.

Sure enough, it was what I’d said before. He asked me if it was real or not real, a line from The Hunger Games. I assured him it was very real. With that, we exchanged a passionate kiss, turned out the light and went to bed.