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Multiple Equations

Pentagons and Parallelograms was the strangest name for a club, thought Dan, but he was a strange kid and felt welcome in the math department.  So he signed up with his phone number and went back to his room to wait.

His phone buzzed not thirty minutes later: Welcome to P&P.  Bring a towel.  Larson Building, Room D.

Room D was, very solidly, the basement of the Larson Building, where the math students clustered to give their long-winded presentations on high concepts.  Dan descended the stairs as softly as he could, though the pulse coming through the double doors in front of him voided the necessity for silence.

Dan put his hand to the door to go inside, but magically it swung open before he could touch it.  Inside was a cacophony of strobe lights, laser lights, and stage smoke.  Everyone was naked.

Dan actually gasped.  "Whaaat?  This is Pentagons and Parallelograms?“

"Indeed it is,” said a silky voice at his side.  He turned to see a girl no older than he was, her brown hair done up in huge movie-star ringlets.  Below bounced a pair of juicy, enticing breasts.  Hungrily, Dan traced her sleek shape down to her navel and below.  She was short-cropped and tidy and swollen.

She saw him looking and patted her mound with a teasing smile.  "I’m Stephie.  Come to enjoy yourself?“

"Show me everything,” Dan managed.

Stephie giggled and took his hand.  She tugged as if to lead him towards some part of the room, but stopped abruptly so that his fingers caught under her ass.  Glancing over her shoulder, she nodded her satisfaction.  "Good.  Start there.  Work your way around.  We’ll get you to the others eventually.“

Dan’s mouth worked, but he had forgotten how to string words together.  His eyes darted as he sought signs that this was more than a dream.  Men and women lay stretched out to five points on various pentagon-shaped mats laid out while others, one to an erogenous zone, stretched out around them and pleasured them with tongues and hands and their own bodies.  Other couples and triples lay spooning or rocking gently in sideways penetration.

"The faculty has no idea.  Well, except the ones who are here.”  Stephie brought his attention back to her by taking his other hand and stroking herself down her sides with them.  Dan found that his shorts were providing little cover for his massive hard-on.

“Oh?  You really wanna get started?”  Stephie clutched at his cock in her nimble fingers, making Dan swallow hard.

“Uh – yeah, yeah, I do.”  He pulled his shirt off, then stood with it dangling awkwardly from his hand.  "What about – “

"Clothes are for idiots,” Stephie said with an almost predatory grin, and she proceeded to remove his shorts.  Then she got down on her knees and tossed her head back so her hair fell away from her face.  Dan noticed there was a tiny gap between her two front teeth.  It made him smile.

It made him moan when she scraped those teeth gently down his cock, one hand clutching at his ass, the other slipping between his cheeks to tease the wrinkly skin of his asshole.

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Dirty Counters

“Aren’t you done?  I’m done.  Done done done.”  Alexa swung the whisk around, flicking bits of egg mixture everywhere.  "We wake up, there’s something to do.  We come home, there’s something to do.  We go out for a couple of hours, and we get back and we get glared at.“

Jensen hunched over his own mixing bowl, his fingers worrying at the half-frozen ground beef.  "Shhh.  Baby girl.  You think I’m not in the same boat you are?  Of course I’m done cooking for ungrateful people.  Just – light at the end of the tunnel.”

“I just – wish there was something we could do.”  Alexa tapped the whisk on the side of the bowl and dropped it into the sink.  "Y’know, for our own evil purposes.  Or whatever.“

"We could fuck on the counters.”  Jensen said it so quietly she had to lean towards him to hear it.

“What?”

“You heard me.”  He didn’t look up at her, but the corner of his mouth twitched playfully.  "I’ll fuck your brains out on the counters, and every time they cook, you can laugh to yourself.“

"Iiiii,” she said, drawing out the word as she slunk around the island towards him, “like it.”

Jensen slammed the bowl down on the stovetop, looking her hungrily in the face.  "I didn’t ask you if you liked it.“  He reached for her and took her shirt in both hands, wrenching it off over her head.  His lips locked with hers, and their tongues danced as he undid her pants and yanked them down her legs.  She went for his shirt, tugging it over his glasses, careful not to let it catch.

Jensen caught her up by the waist and hoisted her onto the counter; Alexa’s toes curled into the waistline of his pants and pushed them down over his ass.  His cock emerged, aching towards her.  She pushed aside some dishes and ignored the crumbs digging into her thighs.  Tugging her towards the edge of the counter so she was just balanced, Jensen teased her entrance and then entered her.

Alexa tossed back her head and laughed wildly.  "Sweet, sweet fucking revenge.”

Jensen grunted in reply.  He held her waist with one hand and the counter with the other, while she grabbed onto his shoulders and rested her other hand next to his against the polished counter surface.  Their skin slick with droplets of dishwater, they rocked until the knife block rattled.  Alexa tossed her head back, panting and laughing.

“Harder!” she cried out, and Jensen doubled his pace, his cock swelling and sweat beading on his brow as he strove for Alexa’s satisfaction rather than a quick finish.  She obliged, her inner walls clenching him to her, reminding him of her closeness.  He took a deep breath, thrilling at the smell of her hair and skin, and came.  He dropped his hand to make circles on her clit, bringing her to climax again, and they shuddered together.  She collapsed against him.

“I’m not cleaning the counter,” she giggled into his ear.

“Me either,” he murmured back, then drew back, touched her chin, and kissed her.

“I love you.”

“Always,” she said, kissing him back.

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The Vending Machine

There is already someone bent over the open vending machine when I creep down the empty hall with my quarters.  Cursing my bad luck, I stand a few yards away, weighing my options: I can wait until I get home, another five hours and a midnight away, or I can wait until the vending machine attendant is finished and get my goddamn peanut M&Ms.

I watch for another moment.  The man is black, clean-shaven, and appears to be well-built, even squatting down junk food scattered around him.  I’ve seen him before—he’s our regular stocking guy.  Perhaps, I think, palming my quarters, he’ll trade me something for an extra fifty cents.

The coins jangle and the man perks up.  I grumble, but it’s too late.  “Hi,” I say.

He sizes me up, getting in an extra long, lazy look.  The back of my neck warms.  “Well hello there,” he says, grinning to show very white, very straight teeth.  “I didn’t think anyone was workin’ this late.”

“Just me,” I say with a dramatic sigh.  I chuckle.  “Normally even I don’t indulge in night-owl shifts, but this project has to get done.”

“Ahhh.”  He straightens up, and I realize he is much taller than I am, and that his hands are rough but the calluses are worn down.  “Need some relief?”

“What?”  I almost don’t comprehend what he’s saying, but then I do, and the absence of my jacket is suddenly obvious.  “Oh.  Heh.”  A nervous laugh.  “I mean, I’m at work.  You don’t think—I mean, I guess no one’s—yeah.  Yeah.”   My hands go to my button-down shirt and flick open the top three.  “Take me against the vending machine.”  I kick my flip-flops against the wall.

His whole face beams.  “Yes ma’am.”  He undoes his pants, drops them down to his feet, extends his hand.  “I’m Trevor.”

“Michi,” I say.

He tries out my name and it sounds good coming out in his honey voice.  “Michi.  Pretty name, pretty lady.”

I’m down to a cami and skirt.  The latter I hoist above my waist, revealing the pussy I remembered to shave this morning.  Trevor gazes at it, gives an admiring nod, and then squats down just like he was when I first saw him.  Only this time his mouth is level with my clit, and he takes advantage of this fact.  In seconds I have one hand in his short hair and the other against the wall, and I’m moaning as he swirls my whole lower business with his tongue.

He strokes to both sides of my labia; he pinches my clit between his thick lips and makes me squeal.  Finally, panting, I tap the side of his face gently.  “My turn.”

He obliges, draping his massive, cut cock over the top of his boxers.  I gaze at it for a moment, imagining taking its bulk in my tiny Asian cunt.  “Mmm.  I’ll manage.”  I tilt my eyes upwards and give him a conspiratorial look before taking as much in my mouth as I can.  I gag and he sighs, hands to my hair.  He rocks that way for a while and I experiment with my teeth, my tongue, my palate.

Trevor is grunting with every movement now and he knows he’s close.  He pushes me away and then grabs my wrists, pulling me up and turning me around so my back is to the vending machine in the same movement.  One hand toys with my breasts and the other brings his cock to the right level and he hovers there.

“Ready?” he asks, and I nod.  He pushes in.  He fills me completely; I can feel him pushing into the back of me.  I feel gloriously helpless, pinned against the warm glass of the vending machine.  Trevor flicks wildly at my nipples, his other hand massaging my mound, and then he comes, leaning into me.  I lean back and we feel like one creature, shaking together.

After a second, Trevor plants a kiss on the top of my head.  “Best day at work ever.”

“Agreed.”  I squeeze his elbow and, when he lets me go, start to collect my clothes.  “Hey, maybe I’ll start working later more often.”

“I’d like that,” he says, grinning, and rips the tape off a box of peanut M&Ms.

I laugh and hand him five quarters.  He hands me back a packet and tips an invisible cap.  I head back to my desk with new energy.

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Dimensional Attraction

Velvet touch.  Perfect rhythm.  Pierre closed his eyes and willed her to come all over him.  She obliged, her eyes flying open, her body overloaded.

“Captain!”  The computer’s flat voice cut in with a special note of panic.  “We’re leaking atmosphere!”

Pierre leaped up, flailing to cast aside the simulation.  It collapsed in on itself in a cacophony of scattered light and garbled sound.  “Fuck!  Get it sealed down!”  He groped at the edges of his jumpsuit, trying to force his disappointed cock back inside.

“Don’t bother,” said a silky voice beside him.

Pierre froze.  Someone was standing right behind him, her long-clawed hands draped over his shoulders like the ends of a very sharp scarf.  Her breath, like rose petals and old books, prickled at the spot just behind his ear.

There were no females, human or alien, on board his ship beyond the models contained in the AI for virtual reality.  He steeled himself against the distinct possibility of death as he turned around.

She was incandescent: sparks showered all around her, but these winked out of existence before they came into contact with anything real.  Her whole slender, black-clad body—or was she clad?  It could have been downy fur—shimmered as if not quite present.  If her claws hadn’t been digging into his neck, Pierre would have guessed she was a hologram.

“Down, boy,” she purred, and he tumbled back into the simulation chair.  Instantly she was straddling him, rubbing her tight-wrapped crotch against his cock, still dangling out of the jumpsuit.  Pierre shuddered towards her.

“Who the hell—”

“An inter-dimensional being hell-bent on getting laid.  Now, are you going to fuck me or what?”  The creature began to peel off her own suit, and Pierre saw that she did indeed have fur, but it was a rich blue and curled in tight kinks.  He reached up a hand without thinking and touched it; she hissed and snapped at his fingers, her teeth puncturing the air where his skin had been seconds before.

“You’ll break the slipstream,” she mewled.  “I’m riding behind a warship.  I’ve got about…”  She glanced down at something on her wrist, though Pierre saw nothing there.  “Forty-five seconds.”

He shrugged and tugged at his cock, his eyes taking her in.  She had no reason to be here, on his ship—there were hundreds within range, silently orbiting the Zeus station.  As if in answer to his unspoken question, she said, “Size matters,” and then settled her entrance right over the tip of his cock.

There was an audible rush of air, and he found himself sucked up inside of her.  He flinched, expecting pain, but instead a very active set of muscles rippled up and down the length of his shaft, bringing him to the brink in seconds.

“Aahhwraanbeffflisshhhhh,” he attempted.  The creature grinned and buckled down to the business of riding him.  Pierre fell into it, relishing the touch of real flesh instead of the half-hearted squeeze of a simulation; his head lolled on the simulation chair and he tried to size her up, figure out what kind of a being she was, whatever he could think of not to come too soon.

Her claws were dangerously close to puncturing his skin, but rested lightly enough that she never drew blood.  Still, she raked them down his sides, drawing responses from nerves he had never even known were in his body.  Suddenly, she rippled and faded, almost gone, her face contorting as her vagina tightened around him.

“Gods!” she screeched, and as Pierre’s whole body rippled with an orgasm, the tension released from his cock and he spurted into the air.  There was only a lingering scent of roses and ancient pages as the roar of a warship passed by.

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On Your Knees

Kenza slumped through the doorway and tossed her shoulderbag onto the couch.  It fell open and her new library books tumbled onto the floor.  "Shit,“ she said, kneeling to pick them up.

Orion’s soft footfalls made her glance up and clutch the books to her chest.  He yawned and rubbed at his scruff, taking her in.  A slow smile spread across his face.

"Home so soon?”

“Yes sir,” Kenza mumbled, trying to put the books back into the bag.  "Didn’t mean to wake you.“

"Well.  Now that you have,” Orion said, sprawling on the couch with his legs open, letting his cock dangle from the gaping leg hole, “you can make up for it.”

“Yes sir.”  Kenza pushed the last of the books out of sight.  Orion’s eyebrow rose.

“What did you check out?”

“Nothing,” she started, but then shook her head and said instead, “Technique books.”

“Oh?  Technique on what?”

Kenza slowly raised her eyes, finally letting a little mischief dance in her eyes.  "Better serving you.“

"Oh.  Oh I see.  Well.”  Orion threaded his hands behind his head and gazed back at the ceiling.  "I assume you pawed through them while you were browsing.  Why don’t you get up here and show me what you’ve learned?“

Kenza took her hair down and contained herself between his open legs.  She tugged at his waistline and he obligingly sat up enough for her to slip off the boxers.  His cock lay against his thigh, dark and warming.  She put her lips to the head and began to swirl her tongue.

Orion suddenly twitched.  Kenza froze, worried she had done something wrong, but then he had his fingers under her chin, gently tilting her head back to study her face.  "Hey.  Are you okay?”

The facade was gone.  A tear slipped down Kenza’s cheek.  "No.  Not really.“

Orion sized her up for a moment longer, then nodded decisively.  "Okay.  Then you can tell me about it after you finish with me.”

Warmth spread through Kenza; her dom – the love of her life – always knew exactly what she needed and when.  "Yes sir.“

"On your knees, bitch,” he said, and pushed her forward, pulling her yoga pants and thong down her ass.  Kenza closed her eyes, smiling and wincing at the same time.  He slapped her on each cheek, then licked his hand and dragged it across her pussy to moisten it.

“Take it,” Orion said, and thrust into her.

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Allies

Jim was falling asleep over his half-emptied pint of beer, his forehead dotted with foam from the rim.  A gentle hand touched his shoulder and he started, his hand flying to his empty holster before he remembered he had left his sidearm back at the camp.

His alarm faded as he peered up at Lily the barmaid, a busty Scottish implant who had come down to take over her cousin’s pub when he joined the British ranks.  She smiled at him.  "Ach, poor Jim, too tired tae finish ‘is beer.“

"Tired, cold, and lonely,” Jim said morosely, patting the side of his glass.  "Right now in Mississippi it’s gettin’ warm and here I am.“

"Yer doin’ great things,” Lily reassured him, bending even lower so that his line of sight was filled with her pale breasts.  Escaped strands of her red-brown hair tickled them so the barely-visible nipples puckered.  "I ‘ave tae say, ye deserve better than yer cold room.  Wish tae join me?“

New energy rushed through Jim’s limbs.  "In fact I do, ma’am.”

“Lily,” she corrected with a laugh, “it’s Lily.”

She pointed towards a door in the back and went to turn the sign at the entrance to CLOSED.  Then she shooed him into the back, where there was a small cot and a generous pile of wool blankets.

Jim suddenly found himself self-conscious.  He hadn’t been with a woman in months – years, if you didn’t count the farewell blowjob his high school crush Miriam had given him before deployment.  He swallowed hard, taking in Lily’s ample form as she undid the fasteners on her dress and her breasts swung free.

She reached for him.  "C’mere, love,“ she said, and guided his mouth to her.  Grateful for the instruction, he lapped at the hardening nipple, nibbling it so Lily squealed.  After a moment, she gave him a hearty shove and he fell backwards onto the cot.

"Pants off,” she ordered, and he scrambled to obey.  He took his cock in one hand and was about to warm up when Lily slapped the hand away.  She reached up and caught all her hair in one hand, then leaned dramatically over him and swirled her tongue down the length of his cock.  Jim arched his back and struggled to keep from coming – so long with so little time to touch himself, and he was ready to explode.

But he waited until Lily tugged her dress over her head and swung her pale white legs to either side of him.  She put her hands beneath his uniform and clutched at his chest.  "Mmm, do I love a hairy man,“ she said, muffled, into the top of his head.  Planting a kiss there, she reached down and slipped him inside of her.

Jim gasped.  She was warm and soft and tight, and already he could feel her relief dribbling between his balls.  He planted his hands firmly in her ass and held her down while thrusting up, and she threw back her head, laughing a wild, warrior-girl laugh.

"Ahhhch, dear sweet Lord above, but I needed tae fuck,” she said between laughs, and Jim clenched his teeth and shot into her.  He held on, unwilling to let go, until the spots faded from his eyes.

Lily patted his stomach and smiled.  "Good fer ye.  Now yer gonna suck my clit, love, for I still ‘ave tae get somethin’ out o’ this.“

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A Matter of Ass

There were three bare asses in a row, the girls bent over a railing, their heads together and giggling as they waited.  The girl from the front desk touched Whippet’s elbow.  "It’ll be those three.  Showers are in the back, towels on the shelves, and just wrap yourself up and stand over there and warm up. Seriously.  You’ll do great.“  She gave him a brilliant smile and was gone.

Whippet gulped and slunk across to the shower room.  He hosed off, trying to stop shaking.  You didn’t even use your real name, he reminded himself.  No one will know.

The towels were big and soft, and he lounged in them for a moment, enjoying the steam from the painfully hot shower before he slipped back into the main room.  The girls hadn’t moved, and their asses jiggled whenever they shifted, beckoning him.  He dropped his hand to his cock and encouraged its hardening.

The doors banged open.  "Right!  So let’s do this.”  The man that Whippet knew as Sam, one of the producers at the studio, crossed the room in three big strides.  "Where’s our man?“  He consulted his clipboard.  "Whippet?”

“Here,” Whippet said in a tiny voice.  Sam glanced up, his eyebrows betraying his skepticism, but he shrugged and made a checkmark.

“Cameras,” Sam said, and the girl from the front desk was at Whippet’s side again.

“This way,” she said, leading him to the three bare asses.  She took his hand and rested it on the first ass, a dark, savory round one.  "Whippet, this is Daisy.“

The girl looked over her shoulder, flashing her very white teeth.  "Hi, Whippet.  You gonna fuck me up the ass today?”

He swallowed again.  "Uh – sure, yeah, I’m gonna – “  He looked to the front desk girl, who gave him an expectant look.  "Fuck you so hard.”

“Oh good,” Daisy said, and turned away to giggle with her co-stars.

“Honey, and Fuschia,” the desk girl said, putting his hand on each ass in turn.  "You’ll love them.  They’re sweethearts.“

"Sweethearts.  Right.”  Whippet fumbled under the towel for his cock.  Someone whipped away the towel and turned a heat lamp towards them.  Whippet found that his shaking was slowing down.

The director cried, “Action!” and the girls wriggled over the railing for a while before they stood and presented themselves to Whippet.  He reached tentatively for their breasts, but soon the timidity was gone as they rubbed their bare flesh against his.

Then Daisy rolled in front of him and presented herself, cheeks spread wide.  Whippet gazed down at the tiny puckered hole and licked his lips.

“Kiss it,” the director called.

Whippet put one hand on each cheek and spread her wide.  He hesitated, then flicked out his tongue.  Daisy’s flavor was sweet and aromatic, completely unoffensive and very arousing.  He worked his way around the perimeter, then someone dashed up and slickened his cock with lube.

He took a deep breath and let her wiggle against him for a moment before he pressed the tip to her hole and pushed in.  She opened to receive him, tightening around his shaft, and he groaned. “Oh god.  Godddd.”

“Mmmm.  I like you right there.  Go deeper in my ass.”

Whippet began to thrust, throwing his head back so he could concentrate.  When he looked down, Daisy’s soft back bobbing in front of him made him clench his nails into her thighs and squeeze.  She whimpered and shivered and Whippet found his vision going red.

Someone pulled him free and hands were on his cock.  He looked down to see Honey and Fuschia working him up and down, grinning.

“Can’t come too soon, lover boy,” Honey said, and he happily leaned into the mercy of their tongues.

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Road Trippin’

Jess passed the pipe discreetly over the center console.  I took it without looking down.  "How’m I doin’?“

"Hang on,” she cautioned, her fingers dancing on my bare arm.  Then a sharp tap.  "Okay go.“

She leaned over and held the wheel steady while we rocked down a straight stretch of freeway, the ‘82 Benz pleased to be running again.  I ducked and took a hit, blowing the smoke out the cracked window.

"Ahhhh.  Much better.”

“Rest stop,” Jess said.  She squirmed in her seat.  "I need to pee.“

My buzz kicked in as we pulled off into the empty parking lot.  I got out enough to lean on the door and air out the car while Jess scampered in and out of the ladies’ side of the shingled building.  I took another hit from the pipe, keeping my eye on teh entrance in case any late-night truckers showed up.  Apparently no one else within a few hundred miles had decided to go for a 2 am ride.

"Boo,” Jess said right in my ear, and I reached out and caught her around the waist.  I planted a huge wet kiss on her temple.

“Hey, cutie.”

“You’re high as fuck, huh.”

“Yup.”

“So c’monnnn,” she said, grabbing my hand and dancing to the back door of our massive car.  I followed her a couple of steps before I realized what she was after.

“Jess!  We’re not allowed.”

“Yes huh.”  Her eyes sparkled.  "I made the last payment just now.  See?“  She held up her mobile phone.  I had to squint to see it, but the Total Amount Due number was unmistakable: $0.00.

We could finally fuck all over our car.

"Hell yeah!” I said and dove, taking her under me so we sprawled across the back seat. She giggled and bit her tongue in concentration as she felt for the door handle with her foot.  I heard it close behind me without even hitting my shoes.  "Nicely done.“

"Make out with me,” she said, putting her hands on my cheeks and pulling me down over her.

I fumbled with her pants in the dim light cast by the one rogue streetlamp until I got to the thong beneath.  I swept the little triangle of fabric aside and fingered her.  She moaned but could hardly have gotten wetter.

“Did you – ”

She put a finger that smelled distinctly of pussy to my lips.  "Shhhh.  Just fuck me.“

"You beautiful slut,” I said and wriggled until I could go down on her.  My tongue drew letters on her clit, slow, thoughtful ones that made her sigh and tremble and ask me what I was spelling.

“Important things,” I said, raising my head and licking my chin.  "Things that I dare not say out loud because maybe this is all just a really cool dream.“

"Okay,” Jess said.  "Then go real slow and I’ll figure it out.“  She rubbed the bare tops of her thighs and giggled nervously.  "And hold the extra tickles or I’ll have no idea.”

Gently, I spelled it out: I W-A-N-T T-H-I-S A-L-W-A-Y-S.  She missed the As and the Y, but I could see from the look of peace on her just-visible features that she had figured it out.

“I love you,” she said, her fingers in my hair.

“Ditto,” I said, and when she threaded her hands through the door handle I began to thrust.

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Maximum Input

Hundreds of thousands of applicants to be the first to technologically make out in their car, and we won.

Henry and I were both shivering, our hands wound tightly together, as we stood in the driveway and watched the logo-encrusted van pull in.  Out popped a smiling Latino man, the sort that hosts late-night variety shows.

“Amigos!  I am Jorge. Let me see – you must be Henry,” he said, bobbing Henry’s free hand up and down.  My husband could barely nod.  "And you have got to be the lovely and talented Rosa.  We loved loved loved your essay.  So let’s get this started, eh?“

He and his crew went about pulling parts from their van.  I stood so enraptured with their process and products that I didn’t even notice Henry pull the groaning C230 out of the garage.

"Here she is,” Henry said, an unnatural amount of fondness in his voice as he patted the hood with one hand.  "Our first car.“  He looked at me and smiled.  "She’s pretty special.”

“Wonderful,” Jorge said, and his team descended upon our car like ants to watermelon.

A few hours later, they let us come back outside and sat us in the front seats.  There were now strange apparatuses scattered between our legs, under the seats, and around the instrument panels.  I lifted something that looked like a suction cup on Henry’s side.  "What is all this?“

"Virtual reality,” Jorge said in an eerie sing-song voice as he snapped something down over my eyes.

I was now staring at the inside of the car, but nakedly.  I squeaked and went to cover myself even as I turned to the left, where an equally naked Henry sat looking just as startled as I did.  "Woah,“ he said.

Suddenly the apparatuses came to life.  A long, slender tube snaked its way between my legs and hovered at my entrance.  Henry gulped as the suction cup clamped on to his dick.

"And go,” said Jorge’s disembodied voice; we were completely alone in our virtual world.

The car began to fuck us.

It rocked with the motion of a skilled human being, and Henry and I both drew in our breath at once. My hand went to his.  He reached over and grabbed my shirt front and stroked my tongue with his.  I struggled not to climax too quickly – while strangers were watching, what was I thinking?! – but the car was persistent, and I shuddered around the tube.  Henry’s hand tightened on mine.

“This – is – awesome,” he said, before his words collapsed like a tent and he made noises and the car gently came to a stop.

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Arranged

I didn’t ask for this. Didn’t ask for the cold, approving eyes of my father, or the fuzzy lines of my grieving mother. The podium yields under me, making my journey that much more difficult, as if offering me one last chance to choose disgrace and flee.

But I don’t.  My groom awaits me, masked under the hot lights, and I rise to meet him.  My peacock feathers spread behind me and catch the light, and I know I am glorious. I hope the guests can’t see the tears.

The fat priest awaits me impatiently, his big shoes tapping. I arrive and close my eyes. I can’t watch him as he speaks away the rest of my life. I don’t dare look at my betrothed.

Everything happens in a blur: the sacred vows, the mumbled permission from our mothers; someone yells out the traditional greeting, and my groom sweeps me down the stairs.  He has still not removed his mask.

No one stops us for congratulations as he takes me into the consummation room.  He sets me down gently on my feet and I stand, quivering, feeling naked already.  I catch my breath as he puts his hand to the mask to reveal himself.

“Please,” I say, “leave it.  I wish to learn to serve your body before I know your face.”

He tilts his head, and it has the effect of a curious bird, but he complies without a word.  He reaches for the buttons on my dress and slowly undoes them, one by one.  The consummation room, warmed by candles, still feels cold as I am bared.

When my dress falls to my feet, feathers and all, he offers me his back and the buttons on his suit. My fingers feel fat, clumsy, but I manage to disrobe him.  His skin is a pale copper and I cannot stop my hands from lingering.  He has muscles, but they are undefined, potential lying beneath soft, curly body hair.  I wonder what he is thinking about my body.

He turns without warning and tosses me onto the bed – not roughly, but playfully.  Then he is down on top of me, his ass in the air and his tongue tracing my inner thighs.  He notes the wetness of my anticipation and, with a smile visible even under the mask, he backs off, kneeling on the floor to service me.

I cry out, from pleasure and fear.  This is not how a purchased bride acts: she is the servant, not the princess.  But he holds me down, firmly but not without kindness, until I come.  Then he raises his head and watches me for a reaction.

“Please,” I say again, “please.”

He shimmies up the bed so we lie parallel.  He gently turns me away, on my side, and feels between my legs, reaching with his cock until he finds me.  I tremble, waiting for him to push in, but there is a long pause.  His breath grows hotter on my neck, and I realize he has removed his mask.

“Hello, my bride,” a husky, gentle voice says, and we make love for the first time.