Fantasy Talk Part 4 - Special Friend

It was an innocuous conversation at dinner, we were planning out our September calendar; planning out the month is the topic of a dinner conversation some point the last week of every prior month.

There were work things, school activities, a couple of play dates, Em's birthday, and Em's trip to Denver at the end of the month.

The baby (see elsewhere why she's the baby but not a baby) asked Emily if she liked work trips.

"Some are better than others," Emily answered, "I'm kind of looking forward to this one." Emily gave me that smile she can get.

"Why?" the baby asked.

"Well, the work part will just be some meetings and I'll be away from the two of you and that's no fun, but I get to see someone I know when I'm out there."

"Who?" the baby asked.

"His name's Evan," Emily said.

"Evan's a boy's name," the baby said, "right?"

"It is," Emily said, suppressing a grin. 

"Evan's a boy?"

"No, sweetie, he's a man," Emily corrected her. 

"Is he a friend?"

I could see Emily's face, the words boy and friend so close together. "He's a special friend," she said.

"Why's he a special friend?" she asked, "do you have play dates with him?"

"Well, sweetie, I've known Evan for a long time and, yes, I suppose I sometimes do have play dates with him."

"Is he nice?"

"Nice? I suppose he is," Emily said. 

"What makes him special?" she asked.

"I...I guess..." Emily looked at me. "Dear, what makes him special?"

I thought of her time with him, before we met, the times she went to see him after we started dating and they were together, the drifting apart, the drifting back together, and now, his new station in life, her boyfriend, the man in our relationship, the man holding the keys. 

"Well," I said, "I guess he's specially to mommy because she's known him for a long time and, well..."

"You know how you like to play different things with different people, sweetie? Like your friends Ellie and Drew as school?"

"Yea," the baby answered. "Like Ellie likes to play Barbies but Drew doesn't, he's rough."

Emily snorted, looked at me. "Well it's kind of like that, Evan likes to do some things Adre (we've settled on her calling me Adre, which is neither Padre nor Madre) doesn't and Adre likes to do some things Evan doesn't, so he's special because I've known him for a long time and get to do some things with him Adre and I don't do."

"What kind of things?"

"Just Mommy things," I answered.

"So anyway, normally I don't really like work trips because I miss you and Adre, but on this trip, I get to spend some time with my special friend, Evan so it won't be too bad."

"You'll miss us?"

"Oh, of course I'll miss you, both of you, very much. But I'm also glad I get to do some things with my special friend. I miss him when I don't get to...play with him."

"Well I'm glad you get to spend time with your special friend," she said. 

"So am I," I said. 

"Will you miss Mommy?"

"Very much," I told her, "but...well...I'm glad she gets to spend time with her special friend, too."

And that was that, the topic moved onto other things, forgotten about by the baby.

**********

"Special friend?" I asked Emily, later, when we were in bed.

"I didn't know what else to call him," she said, "I can't very well have her telling her friends that Mommy is spending time with her boyfriend, can I?" Em smiled.

"No," I said.

Emily reached over and touched my panties. "And I certainly can't tell her Evan's the man her mom and Adre decided to keep the keys to this, can I?"

"Jesus, Em," I almost spit on a laugh, "I think special friend covers it nicely," I said.

"Hmmm," she smiled, "but you know he's more than that, love, you know he's my boyfriend and I'm his girlfriend and that he's the man in our lives."

"Why do you tease me, Emily?" I asked.

"Because I know how much you like it," she said. "What?"

"Nothing...I...I'm more sore than usual."

"It's different."

"I feel...on edge."

"Boy on edge or girl on edge."

"Girl," I said. "I mean, having a man, having your boyfriend...I just...things are..."

"Well I can't unlock it...not at least for awhile."

"September."

"At least," she said.

"Are you going to ask for them back."

"I told him I would."

"And?" I asked.

"He said we'd talk about it when I was out there."

"Talk about it?" I asked, feeling anxious.

"We we should all see how it goes. If I pushed it, he'll give them back, but, well, let's just see. You might want him to have it longer."

"You don't want to ask?" I asked.

"You're saying that like you'll want me to. You might. Or you might not. I think the month is a good start, a trial period. You said it yourself, you feel on edge. I assume that's in a good way?"

"Yes," I admitted, because it was different. The game we'd played for years was different now. My wife wasn't the one holding the keys, she wasn't the one making sure the little male part of me stayed, well, little. A man was, Evan was, her boyfriend was. "I'm sore."

"Already? It usually takes longer." She was referring to the last time we had sex and I squirted from her dildo inside me.

"Yes," I said.

"Do you need me to help?" she asked, wiggling her fingers. Sometimes she provided me relief through a non-sexual milking.

"No, not that. I mean, it's not sore like that, not a build up. I...I'm just...having Evan hold them is, well, it's making me swell more than usual."

She raised an eyebrow, understood I mean that kind of soreness, not the other kind. "Is it too small now? You haven't complained of that since you started hormones."

"I know," I said. "It...it's okay. I just...like I said, it's so different knowing he's holding them."

"I know, sweetie, I know. I hope in a good way."

That was obvious. "Yes, of course in a good way.