Caught Off Guard

"Do you think about me when you jerk off?"

The question broke the post coitus silence with all of the subtlety of a shattering window. Patrick had just been laying there, trying not to say something that would spoil the moment, which is to say, nothing at all, when the opportunity to fuck up big time hit him like a slap in the face.

"What was that babe?" he asked, trying to buy the precious seconds that would save him the trouble of a fight and earn him a more permanent place in her bed.

"You heard me, Pat. I asked if you think about me when you masturbate," she reiterated, "It's a simple question."

Truth be told, Patrick hadn't even thought about that himself. In the few weeks since he'd met her, Amy had already made an indelible impression. They'd gone to a couple of nice restaurants, they'd gone to the beach for a picnic, she'd brought him to her friend's gallery opening and he'd taken her on a drive in the mountains; each date was better than the one before. Even when they weren't together, Amy was still on Patrick's mind. He'd often recall the first time he kissed her. He knew what she looked like naked. He knew she was exceptional at giving head. What he didn't know was whether or not he thought about her when he yanked it. Now here he was after their first time having sex, good sex too if he said so himself, being asked an unanswerable question with the highest of stakes.

"Does it really matter," he ventured, "I mean, either way I can see you not being happy with my answer. If I say no, you'll be upset that I'm thinking about someone else and if I say yes, you'll call me a pig and wonder what imaginary scenarios I'm concocting in my twisted little mind."

"Twisted mind, huh?" Amy prodded, "So you're saying you've got some kinky fetishes? You're saying you want to tie me up and slap me around, you want to get rooted out by a big purple strap-on?"

"No, you're saying that. What I'm saying is that your question is meaningless. It makes no difference what or whom I think about when I'm masturbating but it bears a real world consequence if I tell you. I'd very much like to sleep with you again and I won't sabotage myself by answering that question."

Patrick was satisfied with his answer as his shoulders relaxed back into the pillows scattered across Amy's bed. She had had him on her hook and he'd wriggled himself free without looking like a moron.

"You say it makes no difference, but I disagree," said Amy as she propped herself up on her elbow to get a better look at Patrick's face. "If you aren't thinking about me when you jerk off, that could mean that you want to respect my honor by not casting me in your fantasies. Gentlemanly, yes, but if you can't be open about what gets you off, what do we do if the passion starts to die? I'd rather know now, on my terms, what you may ask of me down the road. If it's me you are considering when you... slap the salami, I want to know when I made my first appearance."

"Wow, Amy. There is so much opportunity for me to put my foot in my mouth here that I'd really prefer to plead the fifth," Patrick replied now sensing a new tension creep its way slowly through his body like so much molasses.

"Sure, I get it," Amy said, "But if you don't answer me, whether it's to save my feelings or for you to save face, I promise I won't be sleeping with you again for a long time. Either fess up and risk my getting upset or don't answer and I'll think you're a pussy. Only one option leaves you with a chance to have me again. It's up to you."

This is exactly where Patrick didn't want to be. He had roughly a 25% chance of giving Amy an answer that would keep him flush in the sex department for the foreseeable future; and that's if he even had an answer to give. She might have made an appearance in his sexual fantasies at some point over the past few weeks. An ass here, a boob there. Maybe a sultry stare or two. He hadn't necessarily been trying to preserve some lily white incarnation of the real Amy in his minds eye as he relieved the pressure but he didn't want her in the mix with the youporn crowd either.

They laid there silently and the minutes passed; Patrick busy chasing the mice in his head and Amy patiently waiting to hear what he came up with. Suddenly, Patrick took a breath and turned to face Amy.

"I can't honestly say that you've never made an appearance, but I haven't actively denied you entry either. What I can say is, whether or not I masturbate to thoughts of you, I always prefer having sex with you over having sex with myself. Sex will always be a priority and if it needs spicing up, we can discuss that together. It shouldn't be up to either of us individually what keeps it fresh. If that's good enough for you, why don't you pull out that purple strap-on and give me the business."

"Well," said Amy, "I suppose that's as good an answer as I could have hoped for. I half expected you to keep quiet."

"And the other half," offered Patrick.

"The other half was busy trying to remember where my strap on is."

Patrick swallowed hard. "Oh God, I thought you were kidding."

"I am," said Amy as she climbed on top of him, "You're something special, you know that?"

"I do," said Patrick as he laid back and devoted his full attention to the woman on top of him.