Brian and Sandra

NOTE: This is a continuation of the Aces series. It may not make sense if you haven't read that, or maybe that won't matter.

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Brian woke up face down with a massive case of morning wood pressing almost painfully into the mattress. He groaned and rolled over on his back. He reached down and checked himself out. Hard? Check. Balls still there? Check. He started feeling himself, not stroking yet. He was still only ten percent awake. He needed at least 20% to manage a proper wank. That in turn would get him to near 50%, enough to make coffee. Weird how that worked. Before bed, it helped him get to sleep. In the morning, it helped him wake up.

He didn't analyze the thought, it was just one of those random things that came from grogginess and his left brain lagging behind the right. He was on one side of the bed. Slightly unusual, but he tended to move around a lot in his sleep. The other side was empty.

He had some vague memory of that side being occupied....

Jennifer! He snapped awake almost fully from a shot of adrenaline. He looked again. No, she wasn't there.

The memory of last night... of his life, started returning as his brain rebooted. He'd looked forward to spending the night with Jennifer, the owner of a perfect body. It only got better when her clothes came off, and better still when he got a close up view with his face between her legs.

She was cynical, manipulative, and used sex as a tool to get what she wanted. But she had some intelligence and insight, along with a very blunt kind of honesty. She was no Rhodes Scholar, but she could hold a conversation. Ivan was in love with her, and not for her body, but because she was Russian, and spoke the language with apparent fluency.

He'd gotten her to bed, gotten her clothes off and her legs open. Then they started talking. Then he fell asleep. And this morning, she was gone. Shit.

In his defense, he'd already fucked two girls and had a lunch date with another....

Abby! He remembered Abby, the third girl. The one he didn't fuck, or try to. The one he wanted to date.

What a mess. Though he could hardly complain. A week ago, he was a virgin. A hopeless one at that. He was not good looking, despite Jennifer claiming he didn't look bad. That was faint praise, but he'd take it if he was sure she wasn't lying. He was almost sure of the opposite. He was not the guy that girls lined up around the block for.

Yet there they were. He found the remote and clicked on the house's security channel. Yup, a small crowd of women outside the gate, even at this early hour. A lot had happened in the last week. This virus - and his lack of effects from it - had changed his life, turned it completely upside down. He went from a loner geek, a sophomore in a college program practically guaranteed to have no girls in it, to literally being front page news and having his pick of women.

It had been exasperating to suddenly be the focus of so much attention. The Twister Virus had turned Brian into an instant celebrity, and the 150th most wanted man in the country. Probably the 2500th most wanted man in the world, given that he would come in last on any such list, all else being equal. He even got Secret Service protection. It was explained to him that geopolitical conflict was going to go into overdrive, and assassination or kidnapping would very soon become a potent demographic weapon.

It had taken a while for him to reconcile this new life with his attitudes before. After being blindsided by the nurse who had administered his test, he was no longer a virgin. But it was a deeply unsatisfying experience, She hadn't exactly attacked him, but it almost felt like it, it was so sudden and unwanted. She'd made it irresistible despite himself, not through any subtle wiles, but through a blatant provocation and very graphic display.

He'd been a loner, and admittedly a loser. He'd accepted it, burying himself in his studies and his hopes for his future career. He'd put sex, girls, and even a social life out of his mind. So much so that when he found them thrust at him, he almost couldn't handle it.

He tried to pretend it wasn't true for a few days, but gave in after the pressure, internal and external, got too great. He resigned himself to the necessity of choosing girls by whatever criteria he felt like, to try to...

He said the words in his mind. To try to impregnate. To inseminate. To fuck, and cum inside of. It was no longer a risky thing, it was a survival necessity.

When he finally decided to indulge in this new life, he'd deliberately avoided the women who were too demonstrative, the ones who thought acting like porn stars would be what got his attention.

Instead, he chose three that seemed least threatening, one - Jennifer - that simply had too hot a body to ignore, and one - Abby - who looked like she might actually be a decent and interesting person. He had almost no information to go on, just her face and body language, the way she hung a bit back from the crowd. The way she watched the crowd, who were all watching the gate and the cameras and the doors of the house.

She didn't want to fuck him, didn't want a baby and the government incentives that came with it. She was there to see what was going on. But as they talked, he thought they might have made some connection. He thought his instinct might have been right after all. In any case, she agreed to see him again.

She knew what he was now, what he would have to do. She knew that they could never have a normal relationship, a sexually exclusive relationship. Almost worse, they would never be able to enjoy any privacy. But she still wanted to see him again.

He got out of bed to head downstairs. The smell of coffee and cinnamon along with the view beyond the gates convinced him to put off masturbating. He could just snap his fingers and have a real vagina there to get him off within minutes. As he walked around the bed, he saw Jennifer's clothes still on the floor.

What the hell? She left without them? Or maybe she was just downstairs. It wasn't like she was shy, and she'd spent an hour at the pool without any clothes on, watching him service the two other girls, waiting her turn.

As expected, Ivan was in the kitchen, head in his phone. Jennifer was not, she really had left. Charles, the butler slash secret agent man was milling about while the Chef was taking a pan of pastries out of the oven. Brian sat at the table after getting a cup of the precious brown wake-up juice. Since this was a mansion - the former home of a professor that had died a year ago - the kitchen table was bigger than a formal dining room table in any house he was used to. It could seat ten, and was made of some sturdy and highly polished wood.

Ivan joined him, sitting across the table from him. It seemed like a vast distance to Brian. Ivan fiddled with his phone and the TV went on, showing the same view Brian had accessed from his room. Then he punched a few more buttons, and the view changed to a video, obviously taken with a phone. It took Brian a second to orient, and he realized it was the same scene, shot from someone in the crowd.

Charles came and sat, bringing a roll fresh out of the oven for Brian along with one for himself. It had become of a bit of a regular thing now, Charles taking some time to socialize with Brian and Ivan. It was not really his job.... or maybe it was. Charles was the central point of contact between Brian and his Secret Service detail, so filling him in on what was going on and asking about Brian's own plans fit the description.

But he'd also become sort of an unofficial adviser, and a sounding board. Brian was navigating uncharted waters, and Charles had a knack for adding a gentle word here, a hard truth there. It amounted to good advice without being overbearing.

Charles glanced at the screen, then back at Brian. Whoever was taking the video just panned the crowd, but as he did, girls waved at the cameras, or called out Brian's name. Every so often one would approach the camera and try to act sexy. Flashing their tits, showing off their asses, smiling seductively. It did little for Brian.

But Charles' glance carried a lot of meaning. He was never pushy about it, but he always tried to suggest to Brian that he do what they had started only half jokingly referring to as his 'patriotic duty.' That duty being to pick one or more of these girls and fuck them. He didn't even need to fuck their brains out, so long as he dumped his seed into them. They wouldn't complain.

He was being put out to stud. That gentle prodding was almost certainly an explicit part of Charles' job, and Brian wondered if it would become less gentle if Brian didn't meet the expectations of whoever was pulling the strings.

Brian held Charles' eye for a heartbeat, then looked down at his cinnamon roll. He'd fantasized about these kinds of opportunities. But the reality was different. It was hollow and unsatisfying. Sure, it was physically satisfying, but he'd felt kind of slimy after.

He looked back at the screen to see another girl approaching the camera. His morning wood had not been satisfied, merely ignored into submission for the time being. But there was still a tension, one that threatened to turn into an ache at the slightest provocation.

The girl had a pretty face, but that wasn't unusual. She walked up to the camera, then hesitated. He found something interesting about her face, her bright, joyful smile. The hesitation and a shy glance at someone off camera made it even more intriguing. She looked back at the camera, smiling nervously and unzipping her coat to reveal a thin yellow sweater.

A male voice encouraged her from off camera, and she looked back toward it, then faced the camera again. Her smile was still nervous, but had an undercurrent of determination. She bit her lip, then reached down with both hands as she took a step back.

With a quick move, the yellow sweater and the cups of a white bra were up over her face. Brian gawked. "Wow" he said out loud. To himself he thought, god those tits are amazing. Bigger than he usually liked, by just a little bit, but very pleasingly round and firm and symmetrical. Tight nipples and just enough heft to prove that gravity was not null and void around her chest.

Almost as quick as she'd started flashing the camera, she pulled the sweater back down and backed away giggling and covering her mouth. She stepped to the side, the camera following her, and she saw her approach a man who seemed the right age to be fellow student. He put his arm around the girl, laughing with her. He looked at the camera and his smile faltered for just a beat.

He noticed Charles and Ivan staring at him. "What?" he asked. His first thought after noticing how great her tits were was to mentally save the image for his spank bank. He had enough time before his first lecture this morning for a quick toss.

Then he remembered yet again what his life was now. "Oh, right." he said. He looked back down at his cinnamon roll, then back up at Charles. He just nodded unenthusiastically, and Charles said something sotto voce into the microphone on his lapel.

Ivan turned the video off and broke into a big grin. "Da, my friend. She is a good one."

Brian mumbled "yeah" and leaned back in his chair. He took a big bite of his roll and a big swig of coffee. He felt that tension transition to an ache and realized he was already hard.

It took all of five minutes before he heard the front door open, then close. A few beats in which there were the sounds of a coat and shoes being removed, then the sound of footsteps of two people.

Brian braced himself for the awkwardness of negotiating what they both knew was the one thing she was there for. A timid invitation up to his room, followed by tentative moves to remove her clothes, to convince her to let his hands roam, to finally lay on her back and open her legs.....

He was never good at that. Up to a week ago, he had never even entered into such negotiations. Now that the outcome was a given, the only purpose negotiation served was to smooth the transition from 'Hi, I'm so-and-so.', to faking an orgasm and screaming for him to cum in her. The transition would still happen regardless, but something about human instinct seemed to make both parties want it to go smoothly.

The kitchen door burst open and a whirling dervish barged in. Legs, white panties with little cats on them, a pair of perfect tits, and a yellow splash of color where a face should be. She was blundering into the kitchen blindly, spinning and almost tripping while struggling to get the sweater over her head. The agent held the door open for her long enough for her to get the sweater off completely, then quietly closed it.

As soon as she could see, she looked around and found Brian. Her face lit up, and she rushed to him, tossing the sweater and bra behind her. He barely had time to push his chair back before she was on his lap, straddling him, her lips seeking his.

She kissed him hungrily and playfully at the same time, then backed off to look at his face. "Hi, Brian, I'm Sandra." then she was kissing him again. Again, she broke it. "Thank you so much. I never thought.... my boyfriend and I want a.... " Then she was kissing him again.

Boyfriend? Sure, it made sense. None of these girls wanted to be his girlfriend, and the reality of the world now meant that fucking an Ace didn't count as cheating. If a couple wanted to have a baby, it was pretty much the only way.

He must have been the guy she went to after flashing the camera. The one who had encouraged her. The one who briefly flashed a sour look after she'd done it. They were in love. They wanted a family. So they bought a lottery ticket, paid for with the cold vigil outside the gate and the courage she'd mustered up for the camera.

A miracle happened and their number had come up. Brian didn't want to think of the price he was paying for that, right this minute.

Those perfect tits were Brian's for the taking. But only for as long as the act took. After that, they would be that man's tits, and Brian's baby, if it happened, would be theirs to raise.

But for now, those tits were pressed against his chest, and her lower half had found the tent in his shorts. She ground against him while kissing him and reaching her hands under his shirt. He was still getting used to having his pick of women, but now he was seeing the other side of being taken for granted. She obviously took the invitation into the house as the go ahead to milk his cock for all it was worth.

Well, it was true. The givens went both ways. It was a sure thing now for both of them. She got his shirt off and pressed against him, those perfect tits against the bare skin of his chest. She was kissing him. It was nice, but not what he wanted. If it was a sure thing, he was going to make the most of it.

He broke the kiss and moved down to kiss her throat, using his hands on her sides to suggest she move up, then moving his hands straight to her tits once she did. He devoured them alternately with his hands, his mouth, and his eyes. He forgot Sandra, he just lost himself in those tits. He got his fill, then started thinking elsewhere. He let one of his hands abandon its breast to move down her belly.

He felt his way down, not because he thought he should take it slowly and gently in case she didn't want that yet, but because he really didn't know his way around all that well yet without looking. He'd never pushed his hands down a girls pants before. The girls he'd fucked so far had taken their own pants off.

He found the waistband of her cat panties and pushed past it, feeling a bare mound then soft yielding flesh. Moist flesh. He let his fingers explore her fully, her excitement and his building as he did. He got a finger inside her to the first knuckle and began stroking it in and out. He tried to find her clit with his thumb, and felt something firm and prominent and assumed that was close enough. She moaned in his ear.

She lifted off him to give his hand more space to roam, and he took the opportunity to force her panties down as much as he could with one hand. She was kissing his neck and shoulder while he fingered her. She got her feet on the floor and stood leaning over to keep kissing him. Her tits swung free right in front of his face and he took his attention off her pussy long enough to indulge the vision of the new shapes they took, playing with them with his hands, watching them jiggle and wobble.

But the aching in his groin was gaining ground and soon enough her tits became merely a distraction. He looked in her eyes and said, "suck my dick."

He surprised himself. For one, he'd forgotten that Ivan and Charles were still sitting at the table, surely watching everything. He discovered he didn't care about that. But more, it was not the kind of thing he ever thought he would say to a girl, or a woman. In his fantasies, sure, but in real life? He couldn't believe it came out of his mouth.

But Sandra believed it. She smiled and dropped immediately to her knees. She worked his shorts down to his ankles in no time and was on him an instant later. He'd had his dick in a girl's mouth twice ever, very briefly, and both in the last week. But Sandra had an enthusiasm about it neither of those other girls had, and the sensation was like nothing he'd ever felt. It was too much.

After she bobbed her head three times, he pushed her back with more force than he intended. She smiled up at him with an expectant look. "Too close" he said.

She stood. "Inside me." she said and swiped her cat panties down. She stood in front of him naked. Such a sight had gone from 'in his dreams' to almost commonplace in the span of a week, but he still wasn't used to it. He stared at her. At her tits, now swollen and taut, nipples standing proud. He stared at the faint lines of her belly, a V that started at the tops of her hips and tapered to a pair of swollen lips with a crease through which primally compelling shapes peeked.

She made a move toward him. He was still sitting, his cock raging parallel to his stomach. But he stood into the narrow space between the chair and the table. He stood against her, several inches taller and looking down at her with undisguised lust.

She saw his face and tried to back away, but her butt hit the table and she bent backward a few degrees. He put a hand on her chest and pushed firmly. Her eyes went wide and she lifted her ass onto the edge of the table and leaned back, her legs opening around his hips as she did.

Her hands scrabbled behind her, the motion thrusting her chest out to him. The cinnamon roll along with the small plate it was on hit the floor. He managed to grab his coffee cup by the handle just in the nick of time. She lay flat on the table, her tits flattened against her chest, her legs spread wide, her sopping cunt inches from his straining cock.

He looked down. He took a sip of his now tepid coffee and just looked. She stared up at him, her face showing a little fear, a little anticipation, and a more than a little expression of accomplishment. He took another swig, downing the rest of the coffee in one gulp, never taking his eyes off her body.

He saw Ivan out of the corner of his eye, sitting just beyond her head. He tossed the cup without moving his gaze. Ivan caught it smoothly as Brian took his cock in his fist, took a half a step forward, lined himself up, and pushed balls deep into her in one quick thrust.

She grunted and threw her head back. He felt her clench on him, then release. He leaned forward for leverage, one hand to her side, the other grasping one of those perfect tits, and began pounding into her. Her back arched, and he had to change the angle of his thrusts as her hips curled forward, her pussy curled down. He went with it without slowing down.