The circle was full again, dozens of women preparing themselves to join the club of Tony's Emancipators. Some sitting demurely, some exuberantly exposed, with their knees hooked over the arms of their chairs, they waited patiently, watching him work, knowing he would last longer on his second round.
Thin or fat, muscular or frail, old or young, naked or dressed in fetish leather/fishnet/rubber or entirely clothed until they flipped up their short skirts, shaven or bushy, nervous and awkward or calm and dignified, smiling happily or just giving him a serious or puzzled look, as if they were only doing their civic duty, they each took a piston-stroke or two of his cock.
He built up a rhythm, thrusting in, bending forward, kissing her on the lips (unless she pulled her head back), slipping out and side-stepping to left. They each said something nice, "Good luck, stud!" "Mmm, nice and hard!" "Look me up next week, we'll have a REAL party!" "It's good today, Tony, and it just gets better and better if you want it to!" "My husband fucked me this morning, don't tell him I think you're much more fun!" or just giving a gasp or yelp of pleasure when they were penetrated.
Nobody was up for drama. Nobody took hold and pulled him to her, as if she wanted an exclusive -- though one or two did demonstrate an impressive kegel-trained vaginal grip as if to hold him to her just a little bit longer. None of them wanted him anally, or demanded that he impregnate them, as did those two who must've got to the party early to secure such good seats. Some smiled in recognition of a boy they'd known a long time, now grown up and being introduced to the charms of the female body. Some were anonymous, just looking for a little fun (if very brief) encounter. Tony had heard rumours there were women (and their boyfriends) who traveled all over the colony, following the schedule of Emancipation Parties, collecting trophies, comparing cock counts with other traveling Emancipators, bragging about how many had given her their first (or second, third... ) juicy loads, comparing notes on the boys, their techniques, their looks, how powerful their youthful ejaculations were.
The rest of the evening, there was only one more surprise from the circle of women in all those chairs: finding Zora waiting in one of them. He blinked when he saw her, as if he had to close and open his eyes to see she was real, his mind going back to the first time he'd seen her. Her breasts were bare, big and heavy, prominent -- erect! -- dark brown nipples. She wore nothing but a big smile and skimpy white cotton briefs, just as she had when he'd first seen her. He'd woken up, opened his eyes, and found her sitting next to him in his bed. It was also the morning she'd first made his teenage cock squirt for her.
Slipping her panties down and off, she pulled her knees apart and up, "Don't tell Alice!" she whispered fiercely as he leaned over to kiss her. Reaching down, she pulled him into her, black enameled nails stroking his cock and balls, opening pussylips fringed with tightly curled black pubic hair to reveal her purplish-pink inner labia. "I'll always be there for you," she said as he hilted himself in her, then moaned, "For fuck's sake, that was GOOD!" as he withdrew after the one stroke.
The woman next to Zora was entirely nude, but had combed long blonde hair down over both breasts and coyly covered her pudenda with her hands so, even though her thighs were wide open, she was still concealed quite modestly.
Smiling at the expression on his face, she lifted her hands, revealing the most delicious pink pussylips, fringed with barely-there blonde pubic fur, opening to expose the wet, dark pink of muscles squirming in her love tunnel. Pushing her hair aside, she unveiled firm, high breasts topped with small gumdrop nipples.
Then he looked back at Zora, her skin so dark, her hair so tightly curled, nothing like the blonde he was bending over now, remembering when he'd last heard Zora say, "For fuck's sake, that was GOOD!" in that low, cock-stroking moan. It was the first time she'd cum with him inside her! It seemed like an eternity ago, all those days ago before the Crisis when the world went mad....
The blonde was about to protest that it was HER turn for his attentions, so look at HER, when Tony thrust himself hard and exploded in three long, deep strokes. Her frown had barely started before it turned up to a giddy smile at being another winner of the Emancipation lottery. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, held him tight with quivering pussy-muscles and whispered in his ear, "Can't wait to let my girlfriend lick me out," she said, "She claims it's the most intimate way for two women to make love, me bringing her a taste of boyish jizz!"
She held him as long as he needed to catch his breath, even held him after his penis softened and popped out from her firm vaginal grip. "C'mon," she said at last, "I'll walk you over and find you a lie-down. You must need a little rest after all that work." He nodded, leaned on her shoulder as she helped him to find an unoccupied spot.
Most of the beds were occupied by the other revelers -- the party was for Tony, but that didn't stop the guests from celebrating among themselves! -- and everyone looked up from what they were doing, whether it was riding or sucking cock, pumping or licking pussy, and smiled and waved at him. The women blew him kisses (some put a middle finger in the mouth and sucked on it first) and the men gave him thumbs up.
They passed the Mistress in a black rubber bodysuit. She'd paused in her punishment of the chubby girl and had her bent over the side of the bed so she could rub lotion on her fleshy round arse. By now it was almost covered with neat, parallel welts turning an angry red. When she noticed Tony, she pried the girl's buttocks apart to display her dripping wet vaj and her anus, winking open and closed with the tremors of the girl's thigh and abdomen muscles.
He heard the girl sniffling, but she didn't look at him and the blonde dragged Tony away to find an unused bed, where he collapsed. His eyelids sagged. He watched her turn and walk off, long hair hanging down her back almost to the cleft between her arse cheeks. She paused at the Mistress's bed, said something that Tony couldn't hear and got down behind the Mistress. Tony saw the Mistress's rubber bodysuit had holes that displayed her buttocks and pubic triangle. The blonde bent forward and began to lick the exposed flesh. Tony, lacking the strength to keep his eyes open, drifted off to sleep.
When he woke, someone had pulled a sheet over him, though the room was kept so warm he could have easily slept naked. A middle-aged woman in a parody of a nurse's spotless white uniform -- she even wore a silly little hat like in the old movies! -- sat on the side of his bed. Her blouse was so tight the buttons could barely hold it closed and the gaps between showed generous portions of her tanned cleavage. Her nipples stood out proudly under the thin fabric. So thin, in fact, one could easily see the brassière she wore was mostly lace, as pristine and medically white as her blouse, but cut so low it supported her breasts from below without covering the nipples at all. Those nipples were now stiffening as she caught sight of Tony's penis stiffening under the sheet.
She stroked his hair with fingernails short (as befitted a medical professional) and soft pink, like the labia of that teenage girl in the second chair who had wanted his sperm not for a trophy, but for impregnation. She smelled of a mild antiseptic, reminding him of the medical center, the nurses handling him at monthly examinations. Those memories made his cock even harder.
With her free hand the nurse pulled down the sheet, then beckoned to the women in the circle of chairs. "It happens with boys, some times," she said, "Their cocks are stronger than every other organ in the body combined!" The women were forming up in a line now. "So, if you haven't got the energy to get back to the party, we'll bring the party to you. Besides, women don't mind taking the top." She looked at the first in line, a motherly woman with dark brown eyes, light brown hair and a comforting smile, "Do you?"
"Of course not!" She was wearing a bright blue silk robe with a design of Japanese characters. Untying the sash, she revealed large, soft breasts, a flat stomach, a cloud of light brown pubic hair. Climbing onto the bed, she straddled him, her breasts swinging, inviting him to cup them and roll the hard pink bullets of her nipples between finger and thumb.
She rode him for only two strokes, but it felt so warm and wet and good inside her he wished he could have a few more. She would be one of the first women he'd think of when he looked back on his Emancipation Day, even years later. He didn't know why. Was it the crazy high heels she wore? The way her breasts felt so warm and soft against his chest when she bent down to kiss him? The way her tongue touched his when they kissed? The exotic Japanese characters on her robe, describing in intimate detail -- though Tony did not know this -- many, many sexual positions?
For now, there was only one position, and in this position he could hold the woman's breasts, kiss and suck on them when she leaned forward -- if they wore their hair long, he could feel it stroking his chest -- and run his hands down her sides to cup and squeeze her arse-cheeks.
