Cocs and Cunny

Several Weeks Ago, The Flats, M. Kay Underground Lair

Jane rarely cried. She couldn't remember the last time tears had run down her cheeks. She vaguely remembered she was an ugly crier. She inhaled the blanket that still had a faint trace of his scent. She needed a distraction from her emotional release. She was curvy and exposed on the bunk and her large breasts heaved as she choked back the tears, felt her body fight itself between sorrow and excitation. She hated whom she had become. A very elder stage Warrior in an ugly generic representation of whom her younger self truly was-an abomination of verisimilitude and guilelessness of the evils of the world. Her hair was wrong-faux hawk dark dikey spikey, her body wrong-soft where it should be hard, her methods and pretense wrong-yet there she was prepared to masturbate to the best memory of herself.

Tammy, the digital personal assistant, confirmed the order to run a log of the last 2 hours of her last visit to the lair so many years ago. Within moments, the small screen on Bunk B's wall clicked to life with laughter between younger, twenty something people. Jane couldn't believe how quickly the time had gone-they had aged. The choice they had made back then was a good choice, it had just gone bad over time.

She couldn't really blame the decision though. It had led her to this point of vengeance and peace-making.

She relaxed back and watched her younger twenty-five year old self-her hair blond and growing out with a softness she had forgotten-rub the liniment Magda had made onto his back. She was waif thin, but her bust gargantuan. He was on his stomach, his face buried under the pillow's edge, and she had listened to his breathing. Their chat was a whisper and she smiled at what they had come to as far as a decision went. She would stay by his side and be with him. They only trusted each other and they each had a sliver of blissful love for each other in their eyes. He had sat up quickly with a wince and kissed her deeply which she accepted passionately. The kiss had grown deeper and hands roamed.

At the present moment, she gasped as memory and video fact brought out that passion that had been tempered over time and revelation. She felt so much for the young couple, but fought away the snide commentary in her mind of what had happened to them. She ran her hands over her erect nipples, over her soft stomach, fanned over the tops of her muscular thighs and then caressed her hairless pubis. She watched them make love for the first time, so raw and carefree, as she teased her outer and inner lips. She watched as he had taken her body and made it his so thoroughly by grip, tongue, and dick.

Watching the screen as she rubbed her engorged clitoris, she saw, at the time, something that she had never quite taken. She saw his devotion as well as his violently masculine placement as the only man ever in her life.

On screen, he roughly took her as if they were only moments from death. He gripped her possessively and begun to shout his ownership. His right to her body. His long awaited dominion of a thunderstruck love that occurred in Estonia so long ago. He pumped into her with growls of sons and daughters. He bruised her soft and newly healed flesh to mark her as off limits to anyone and a brand of whom she belonged. He would forever protect her. He would forever be her answer to anything-desire, anger, worry, and calm.

She fully took in the vows time had removed from memory and she brought herself to a furiously overdue orgasm that would lead, she knew, to many more during the long masturbatory session she wanted. She was shocked by what escaped her mouth, in all her strength, darkness, and secrets; she had never once thought she would ever hear herself scream. "Mikhail! Mikhail! FUUUUUUUCCCCCCKKKKIIINNNNGGGGG SAVE ME!!!!"

By every touch of her body, by every slick pussy cum, she shouted things that surprised her as she realized that she didn't want to do what she had vowed so long ago to do, but she was in too deep not to carry it through. She loved Mikhail and wanted to so much undo everything, but she couldn't. Lucille Yolochenko was a poison that needed the antidote of Jane.

Inside a Stone Vent, Zeppelin's Ziggurat, Early Morning in the City

The thin, sinewy form clad in black watched the show in the candle lit stone room from the monitor brace on his left arm. The ear piece in his right gave him the audio track. He made no judgment because he wasn't paid for it. He recorded, noted, and awaited the storm to let up before he made his way to the sewer tunnel that would take him out of the Warehouse District and into the checkpoint to drop off his report summary. Neither the chill of the tunnel nor the scent of shit and chemicals affected him; his masked face only revealed his tired, with an edge of longing, blue-hazel eyes. He decided against waiting the storm out.

I need to fuck her. I need to talk to her. I need her presence.

He closed the monitor brace and slid his sleeve over it for good measure. His latest assignment was almost done. The head lamp clamped over his skull cap illuminated by the sudden darkness. His body knew the quick pace by rote from constant use of tight spaces with labyrinthine trials, and he was at the edge that opened to the large tunnel below in no time. The tunnel was flooded, but he gripped the slim edge of stone near the ceiling and made haste as his large arm muscles carried his body in a dangle to the other side where the next vent welcomed him.

The last lay. . . .Her kisses. . . Her wetness. The way her pussy gripped me when she rode me on the stone throne in the tower. It's been too long.

He propelled himself into the next vent that was slightly smaller than the previous, but his body took to it with the same rote speed as before. Vermin tried to catch a ride with a bite or scratch on his tight yet flexible body armor, but his focus and pace toward the destination let it go unnoticed. The opening at the end exposed a chain work bridge over the rush of rank and ugly rainwater atop sewage. The chain bridge was six feet below and he flipped upright as he dove before he landed in a half crouch and grab of the unsteady metal. The clang was lost to the water sounds and thunder announcements. His stride was steady in the half crouch across the bridge and he was in the large tunnel blackness with his small beam of light from the top of his mask to guide him. He jogged with automatic intensity.

It's time to knock her up if that last time didn't do it. Watching her body change with the new life I'll put in her will be my new hobby. Our family safely unknown from the outside world. Everything inside our fortress.

The homeless in the box neighborhood was a blur as he ran serpentine with such urgency even the residents weren't sure if it was a being that blew through or not some debris from the occasional gusts from above that made its way to the depths. He was still quite a ways from the destination, but everything carried well.

She wants to stay. She gave up her latest persona to stay with me. She's ready to start a family too. She made sure I was as deep as I could go inside her when I came.

He scaled the fractured wall in the faux dead end then slid down the other side with a land turned jog.

Estonia. Apple picking. The layered dark dress. Wanted to fuck her right then. Guilt. Lucinda and the kids. Commander Mitchell. Lots of death. Lucinda. Kids. . . . need better thoughts. . .her large breasts in the bath. . her small pussy gushing around my cock. . desk fuck in the library. . in my bed when I wake up. . the way she takes my breath. . her strength. . our blood in each other's mouths when we fight to fuck. .

The abandoned tunnel ended with a rusty ladder, left with a few rungs that required a run up the wall, the highest intact piece grabbed, then

a self propel into the next level of ground. He was in the basement of a condemned-in-dispute warehouse with scattered excrement and rotten crates strewn randomly. The air was dank, humid, and cluttered with drip sounds that promised a rush at any moment. "Save The Monty" posters tore under his stride. The layer had grown thicker since he had used the place last. The Montgomery was a relic of cinema past and a crumbled jewel of the outer layer of Old Downtown. The fight to save "The Monty" had been a battle any artist/retiree/college kid/anyone with time for letters and marches of protest had taken up over the past decade. The wily septuagenarian at the neighborhood watering hole had filled him in along with the floor plan long ago when they waited for a word with the barkeep. He zig-zagged his way to the memorized secret passage that led to an adjacent parking structure. His jog stopped when he realized by his headlamp that the tunnel was blocked by debris. He looked at it for a second and concluded the cave-in had occurred in the last few hours. Most of the underground structures had been stressed by an explosion at Broken Abbey some time back, he had been out of town when it happened and only knew enough detail about it to know where the most useful underground routes existed. He turned back and chose to run out of the ruins of the The Monty. He would have to chance it on the street with the Rego Zombies and the masked coverall government employees. He slid his sleeve up and punched a code on the brace. The helmet sprouted from his skull cap and around the headlamp. The breathing apparatus hissed as his speed increased.

He hated the streets of Old Downtown, but he didn't have a choice. Mikhail Kay, PI wanted to go home.

Selenic Station 2, Active Orbit, Galactic Standard Time 12:45

Blake Hopper kept a steady pace of gaze on six monitors as he appeared to be closer to his target of study. The star speckled blackness hypnotized him away into his thoughts and memories. He fought for focus. His last encryption stated he was close to the enormous black satellite of ancient answers. He knew a failure at this pass would call his command of the station into jeopardy. He closed his eyes and silenced his mind which seemed to be filled with an odd static of memories.

He tried to shake it, but when he opened his eyes he only saw himself a few years back. He wasn't in his office and he realized quickly he wasn't in his body. He was in a float behind himself. He was in the back of a red furniture delivery truck in the driveway of a safe house that had a few people in it laying low. He had an ear piece and several monitors in front of him of the house next door.

Shit. It's me watching her. Why this night? Why this moment?

M sat quietly at one end of the light wood rectangular dinner table. She was dressed in the linen slip and off white ballet slippers her husband insisted she always wear at home. Doktor Abernathy, in his tweed suit with yellow tie, sat at the other. Her beautiful long dark hair hid her face as she consumed her soup. Doktor Abernathy cut her a look to be sure she minded.

Blake viewed himself as he scrawled notes furiously as he watched the silent interplay. Only the sounds of spoon to bowl were made. The ting and scrape irritated him and he considered the removal of his ear piece, but then Doktor Abernathy spoke quietly in the foreign voice that differed drastically from any foreign voice M had ever encountered. Blake remembered and saw himself lean forward; her slight shake began as the accent and tone of voice made her cringe.

"Sometimes I wish I had left you in that forest and picked someone else. I only think this when another experiment fails. Soon all I will have is you and it breaks my heart. You've been such a good wife to me, but your genetic structure begs for my serum." His brown glasses slid down his nose as he gave her a sadistic and jagged toothed grin. "Females like you come but once a lifetime, Dear Wife, we shouldn't have you waste it by living as you are. Let's ascend you to the greatness I know you will be. Does your stomach feel warm and full with my soup? You've ingested the exact amount needed to begin. So obedient for me-you make me so proud."

M dropped her spoon into her bowl as her body quaked in fear. Her mortality in a ribbon her husband would untie and toss away and she could do nothing about it.

Blake saw it in her delicate, twenty year old face. He felt his stomach lurch and all after was a very long, complicated blur. . . . .

Suddenly, Blake was back to six monitors and the monolith that was always out of reach, out of study, but presently perfectly in view as it seemed to near the station with a peculiar pull. Never had it acted in such a way by all that had been recorded. His mouth was dry, his eyes wide, and his heart beat with curiosity and trepidation. This analysis would save everything and keep her safe.

City Train Station, Platform 27, Track B

Kay stood under the large cover of Platform 27 and listened to the furious storm continue to deluge every part of City property. He had his black suit with electric blue tie and matching black fedora with an electric blue band under his heavy black trench coat which stood out in the bright lights of the empty station. Everyone had already gone home or had not begun their day. The train was late which worked for him since his debrief had taken longer than expected. Mulholland needed to keep tabs on his rebellious relative that had found her way to an underground Rego Cult so there would be no surprises during his campaign for Territorial Governor. Kay knew the election was more than likely fixed, but there would be at least a few years ahead of housekeeping that Kay would have to do to keep everything smooth in appearances.

He sighed into the quiet. He kept his guard up, but let a fantasy play in the background of his mind. . . . . .

She, in an electric blue trench coat, steps out of the train to welcome him home. Her red pouty lips in a smile that exposes her beautifully polished and straight teeth. She would wear the red heels that made her ass even more spectacular as she walked. Her usual short stature would be elevated to the point he wouldn't have to bend down too much to kiss her. Her eyes lusty and crystal blue. She would have the long dishwater blond hair she used to have loose about her face and in soft messy curls. She would wear her normal light vanilla scent that always made him even hornier when she got close. She would stop inches from him and look up with a sweet hunger only for him.

"Welcome home, Mikhail," she would say so happily, yet quietly. She would await his aggression although he would hear her steeled self-restraint by the rigidness in her elocution and sense the small shivers of her body in neediness of him.

He comments in a low voice as he pulls her to him by her coat's knot at her waist. "No more distance. Don't think I can wait to board for this."

"We've got forty-five minutes before departure,"she whispers as her shiny lips lightly brushes his mouth. She moves her lips to his left ear. "I'm not wearing much under this coat. Would you like to see?"

He smirks and grabs her by her upper arm tightly-enough to leave a grip mark. She gives a low excited laugh. She always likes it rough for a start. He takes her from the platform and passes the shops until they hit the long concourse and he zeros on the ladies restroom. It is the fancy type with multiple vanity rooms and then the stalls of toilets. He finds the furtherest vanity from the main entrance and he hears the flushes close by. The privacy screen for quick changes is next to a large lounger adjacent to a large vanity mirror and table with the short seat for makeup applications and touch ups. He relaxes on the lounger and denies her a kiss until she is out of the coat in a show and tell. She smirks and exposes her bridal white corset with garters and lacy white thigh highs. He sees her moistness on her inner thighs. She straddles him, her wet cunny presses into the hard crotch of his suit pants, and her manicured fingers lace into his slightly calloused ones as she pins his arms over his head.

"Missed me as I you?" she says in the inhale of his exhale, pressing her lips into his then licking as a pass code for his mouth to open. He teethes her lips and then kisses her roughly as he moves forward and pins her wrists behind her. That kiss would be the hungriest, the fiercest, like their welcome home kisses always were. Her lipstick a mess on both their faces, but they wouldn't care yet.

"You feel how much I missed you?" he says as his grip on her wrists gets harder and his cock presses into the wetness as he raises his hips to enhance his point. "Take my dick out and kiss it."

He would release her wrists and she would have his dick out immediately. His thick, pulsing want humongous in her small hands that would stroke him slowly as she puckers her messy red lips for a chaste kiss. He keeps himself steady from the sensation, but it feels like the best tease for the sweet spot on the underside of his dick. He moans out, "Now impale yourself slowly."

She smiles and rises to position her sweet cunny over his pulse and slowly descends. Both gasp as her pussy receives into a muscle grasp that almost sends him over, but she jets a fast little orgasm like she always does upon entry. He sits up and holds her for a moment, each looking the other in the eye, and knowing they have forever together. With him deep inside her, he pushes her back into the bottom length of the lounger, covers her mouth with his left palm as his right holds the side of the lounger, and the pounding commences. Watching her eyes dance as he hits her deepest spots perfectly and feel her pussy twitch, throb, and grip in orgasm. The juicy suction presents itself in its loudness and it only makes him smile. She grips his scarred chest and torso for ground as he sends her higher into orgasmic bliss. She attempts to buck her hips into him, but he pins her as he pokes.

He tells her how she belongs to him. How she would never leave him, he would never let her even if she wanted to go, but he knew she loves him. She needed him just as much as he needed her. They would make a large family and enjoy every blissful second of making one. An hour would not go by without a load of cum being shot deep inside her while he wasn't working cases. Magda, his dutiful Estonian housekeeper, would have all sorts of fertility powders and elixirs that should increase their luck and heighten the fever for conception.

He cums in her and then buries his face into her large tits with the tight aureole beckoning him. He licks a nipple and lightly suckles. Her chest would swell so nicely with milk. He would have her wear tight white tanks so he could watch her soak herself as she begs to be milked. . . .

The horn of the approaching train snapped him from the fantasy. He realized the erection was thick and strained against his suit pants and he calmed himself with ugly thoughts until he softened enough to walk up to the door that slid open. He would be inside her sometime in the next hour and a half no matter what room in the castle he found her. He smiled as his ticket was punched and he sat in his window seat.

Selenic Station 2, Active Orbit, Galactic Standard Time 13:30

Blake continued to stare at the large dark floating monolith as his six monitors flashed with activity. Mesmerized until everything seemed to float away and he saw himself again in time long passed.

Major Dunwiddy's dark wood office. Ugh. Why this moment? Why that place?

"Where is she? Did they pump her stomach? Is she OK?" Blake watched himself panic with Doktor Abernathy's blood streaked on his hands and face.