Different Planet Ch 37

Gene and Alex both dropped their trousers as Alex's wife bent over the kitchen table, flattening her breasts, licking her lips and opening her mouth, pulling at her arse-cheeks so her smooth-shaven pussylips opened, the dark skin already wet with her juices. Then, almost to herself, though loud enough for both of them to hear, whispering, "No, can't SEE it this way!" she rolled over on her back, pulling her knees up and letting her head hang over the edge of the table.

Gene couldn't imagine what he could see now that he couldn't see before she turned over, except maybe her nipples, now showing her excitement as they stiffened, hard bullets of dark flesh. But two succulent nipples were definitely "them" not "it"! So maybe she was thinking he now had a better view of her open vaj? He hadn't been thinking of taking her up the arse, even though it had winked at him coyly when she'd bent over and flexed her thigh muscles.

Well, now it was obvious where she wanted him to take her. He positioned himself, feeling the hot wet of her vaginal opening on his cockhead, then looked up, wanting to see her eyes, see the pleasure in them as he hilted himself. Mandy's eyes had been so old, took so long to light up. Haly's eyes...

But she'd greedily taken her husband's cock in her mouth and he was pushing in, ball-sac covering her eyes as his cock went in her mouth. Then, after a deep breath, she took it smoothly into her throat, without gagging or hesitating.

Was that what she wanted them to see, the bulge in her neck moving down as she swallowed the head of her husband's cock? Gene hurried to catch up, then had to pause and put his hands up to hold her thighs when she let go, dropping her arms to the table.

It felt so good, tight, warm and wet. But much more than that, he was feeling real passion now, for the first time in... how long? Since making love to Vesse, before he learned she was betraying him? Vesse's body was alive with lust, from her kisses to her erect nipples scraping his chest to the kegel-strengthened muscles rippling around his cock. He'd really thought she'd felt something for him and, maybe, in her own twisted way, trying to save him from the Milking Barn, she had cared for him a little.

Until the docents had him taken away. Everything since then had been just madness, chemically induced insanity, litres of semen spurting from his cock in forced orgasms that burned his brain rather than pleasuring it.

Now splayed out on her kitchen table -- because she was too horny to waste a few seconds waiting until they'd made it to the bedroom -- Haly was arching her back and convulsing with pleasure at his cock (and her husband's) pumping hard into her. He felt the passion now, finally. He saw hers too, though not in her eyes. She kept them closed tight as her husband's ball-sac slapped her face. But he saw her neck rhythmically swelling with cock, her arms flailing, her breasts bouncing as her chest heaved.

Heaving... as if she were fighting for air? He'd heard about oxygen deprivation, how some lovers were so desperate to push the extreme... He heard Alex groan loudly then, knew he was filling her with his cum, and Haly, unable to even groan, was shaking to her own violent orgasm.

He felt his hips bucking at the thought of Vesse -- or one of the docents, or Dr Winfrey -- choking on cock, forced against her will to take his semen, not in a medical receptacle, a jar or sterile plastic collection bag secretly lining her vagina, but struggling, gasping for breath as he rammed himself in and shot it down her throat.

He came and came and came. The ball-charging energy provided by whatever the docents in the Milking Barn had dosed him with hadn't entirely faded from his system. He came, shooting his semen into Haly's welcoming love tunnel again and again until, at last, emptied, light-headed, he could barely keep standing, holding onto Haly's legs as much to support himself as to steady her -- she was still thrashing about, her body spasming until Alex pulled his softening penis from her mouth and she could get air in her lungs.

Her husband supporting her head, holding her shoulders, Gene holding her legs, they gently carried her from the hard kitchen table to the bedroom. They pulled back the blankets and set her down on her back on the clean white sheets. She was still breathing hard, her eyes unfocused, her body limp, a trickle of spittle and semen from her lips running down her cheek. Gene looked between her legs, but, unlike Mandy, nothing dripped from between her pussylips but a few drops of her own, natural lubrication.

They lay down on either side of her, keeping her warm, stroking her hair, kissing her breasts, telling her they loved her (her husband said that, Gene only told her how beautiful she was) until after a long, long, time she came back, eyes opened and focused.

She took Gene's soft cock in her left hand, her husband's in her right, "That was a fucking incredible fuck!" she said softly. Then she turned to Gene, "I can still feel you inside me," she sighed and rolled her hips as if filled to bursting with his boymilk, "Was it good... " she searched for the words, "REALLY making love to a woman?"

He nodded, "I like myself again, finally."

"Even a man who likes himself still has to find a job, and pleasing the hostess," she raised her head with some effort and kissed him on the lips, "Isn't full-time employment."

"I think we should tell him about Black Judgment," Alex interrupted.

"That sounds ominous!"

"No, silly," she giggled, "It's the name of an underground social club. Your status makes it a perfect fit."

"She'll take you there tomorrow night," Alex stood up and stretched.

"You're not coming?"

"Already came!" Alex laughed, looking down at his limp penis, "No, seriously, the only men who go there are employees."

Gene was left wondering all the next day, but she said nothing more about it, even when they were getting ready to go and she bent over in the shower, just "you've still got a lot of it in your system" she said as he slipped his always-ready cock inside her, "and besides I like a nice hard cum to relax me before a rough evening."

He thought it odd that she would shower with him, even asking him to help use the spray wand for some intimate cleaning, "Don't want to have any of your love juice dripping out onto the floor at an embarrassing moment," but wanted to dress in private. Especially since her clothes were utterly vanilla, almost frumpy: dark blue blouse that showed nothing, not even a bump or a shadow of those delicious dark-meat nipples, loose grey trousers and flat, comfortable shoes.

Gene also dressed boring; he was expecting a job interview, not a play-date. He did feel rather naked though, when she told him he'd have to go without the pocket comm Alex had cadged for him. It was a boring grey primitive no-name, no-trace, all he could risk with his current status, but he'd liked the feel of rejoining civilization after having nothing but a set of institutional clothing during his entire time in the Milking Barn.

So, quiet knocks in a pattern and spoken code words that sounded like innocent conversation at the door. At least he thought they did -- they were spoken so softly he couldn't quite make them out. A second door after that, until at last they found themselves in a vast, poorly-lit arcade full of women, most in exotic fetish wear or simply nude, strolling around with their partners, or hunting for one.

Three points of light resolved themselves into three tiny reflective triangles worn by an Oriental woman with a dazzling smile and straight black hair reaching down to the small of her back. The shiny triangles covered -- just barely -- both nipples and her hairless pudenda.

"Our new slops boy?" she asked Haly, nodding and smiling even more broadly at Gene.

"Yes," Haly replied, "Is my bitch here?"

"Oh, yes," the woman replied, "First things first, of course, but," she hesitated, "But

WHICH bitch?"

"You know what I mean. Always causing trouble."

"She knows misbehaviour means we'll call you."

"So call her over." She turned to Gene, "This is Yolanda Giovanni." They said pleased to meet you and shook hands, "Yolanda will tell you about the job while I -- ah, here she is."

Gene saw no signal, but obviously the girl hurrying over had been summoned. She was too old to be a girl, really. At least thirty standard, but she wore a pale blue baby-doll dress that barely covered her rump, especially considering her tendency to skip along cheerfully through the crowd (which took little notice of her, even when the hem of her dress bounced up) and white stockings that rose to mid-thigh. A pale blue ribbon tying her ponytail and shiny black little-girl shoes completed the outfit.

She pranced up to Haly and kissed her demurely on the cheek, then touched a hand to the crotch of her trousers. There was the outline of something there in Haly's trousers, Gene noticed. "Have you come to fuck your little girl, ma'am?" she asked in a sweet, innocent voice.

"Lift your skirt," Haly said sternly, "And don't use that filthy word with me, girl!"

The woman wore no knickers, and her pubis had been expertly waxed, smooth and innocent as the woman's teasing voice. "I know you like them young, but I promise I'm over eighteen, I just haven't started to grow my woman-fur yet." She pouted, seeing Haly's frown, then swiveled her hips, saying, "Don't you like my widdle luvvy-place?"

"Nice little girls do as they're told and wear panties," Haly said sternly, "Now turn around and put your hands on the wall." When she did, Haly pulled up the hem of the woman's dress, exposing her rump, firm and smooth as the pussylips that peeked out from between her thighs as she bent over.

"Nicely healed," Yolanda commented, handing Haly a small grey sticky clip. Gene couldn't tell where that had come from; it wasn't as if Yolanda had any pockets.

Haly activated the sticky clip and plastered it on to hold up the hem of the dress, then moved back a step. Yolanda handed her something else: a whip. Gene moved back several steps, as did Yolanda.

The first crack cut a neat welt across the woman's buttocks, bringing out a yelp of pain. The second and third were lower, marking the thighs. The fourth was dangerously close to the woman's pussy lips, and it drew blood.

"Oh, fuck that hurts!" the woman cried out, her baby-girl voice breaking.

"Your job, among other things," Yolanda was saying to Gene, "Will be to clean and sanitize." He looked again, as a drop of blood trickled down the woman's pussylips and splashed on the smooth black stone floor. "Mopping isn't glamorous, but you'll meet a lot of interesting people here, I think."