The Faiytale

"What's your new job?" Red '43 asked the following morning over breakfast.

I couldn't tell her. She was my best friend, ever, close enough that we had discussed the possibility of applying for a shared apartment. It would be nice to have someone to fall asleep with and wake up next to. It would be nice to have a bigger apartment, even if the space was shared. Now that we were both twenty-one (twenty-three in Red '43's case), a cohabitation request was possible.

However, if we were to cohabit, no way could I do what I had done the night before. Only with absolute privacy would I dare to have a silicone replica cock in my apartment. Only with the certainty that no one would know would I kneel before that cock and practise sucking on it. To go further and do what I had actually done the night before, was so unthinkable in the cold light of day that just the thought of it had my cheeks burning with shame.

Romantic and other relationships were inevitable. Some cohabitations endured years. Decades, even. But sexual contact was strictly forbidden outside the sex booths. Even cohabiting partners were required to maintain certain formalities. Hugging and kissing were permitted, of course, but any touching that was sexually intimate would result in immediate termination of the cohabitation, and likely further punishment too.

There is no hiding from the Organiser. The Organiser sees all. The Organiser had to know exactly what I had done the night before, and I kept expecting an announcement from it that I had transgressed a fundamental rule of our civilisation.

I couldn't tell Red '43 that my job was to suck Managers' cocks all day, or that I didn't want to cohabit with her because I needed privacy to fuck myself at night with a huge, pink, silicone cock.

Red '43 laughed. "You've gone quite red, Red '86."

"I'm an assistant at a clinic," I said carefully. "A fertility clinic. I have to collect samples."

"Ohh," she said, clearly intrigued. "Interesting."

"I'm really not supposed to talk about it."

"Aww." Laying her hand on mine and smiling warmly, she asked the one thing I was dreading. "Have you given any thought to my proposal?"

What if we did? What if I didn't have that silicone cock at home? What if I could come home after a long day spent sucking cocks and know that Red '43 would be there? That we would sit together talking and watching vids and touching and kissing and holding each other like a normal couple?

I had a sudden vision of myself in the sex booth, my ankles secured in the stirrups, the door opening to reveal... not a man, but Red '43, brandishing my pink dildo in her hand, thrusting it into me, fucking me with it until I screamed in ecstasy.

"I don't know," I whispered. "I don't think I could sleep with you and not put my hands where they shouldn't be."

"'86!" she hissed, understandably shocked. She glanced about us to check that no one was listening. "You can't say things like that."

"Sorry," I whispered.

Red '43 studied me in silence for a long minute. "Maybe we shouldn't rush into anything," she said, with a coldness in her tone that hurt me.

"No," I agreed, utterly miserable.

*

My second day at my new job was much like my first, except that I was more or less expected to just get on with it. I got to work, undressed and put my clothes in my locker, was given a booth and an appointment schedule by the Manager, Yellow '56, waved hello to Blue '97 and wished good morning to a few other fellow workers, and then it was just me, naked on my stool, facing a hole in the wall with a curtain on the other side.

As I sat there waiting for the first cock of the day, I was overwhelmed by the surrealism of my situation. I had had three jobs in my past, and had heard of many hundreds of other jobs, but I had never heard of any that involved sexual contact. Not, of course, that anyone would have wanted to talk about such work, but I hadn't heard even a rumour of it.

Were there cases where coworkers or friends transgressed the rules and touched each other inappropriately, only to end up being driven apart by a culture that rejected such behaviour? Absolutely. Such events were rare and made for shocking and delicious gossip, vague words implying scandalous details. Were there cases when couples dared go further and actually fuck? Well, yes, but such acts were even rarer, and criminal. The punishment strict: relocation, and allocation to the worst jobs.

Sex was strictly regulated. That was the way of it. So how was it that my job required me to do something so sexual I felt almost like a criminal?

The curtain pulled aside, and a cock longer than any I had tasted the day before pushed through the hole. It was still mostly limp, but twitched impatiently and a bead of clear fluid glistened at the tip. An ugly, squirming creature that I was reluctant to approach. On the other side of that hole was a man. A Manager. One of the lucky one-in-a-hundred who were elevated in rank at the age of thirty, and were thus entitled to oral service once per month.

Supposedly for health reasons. To relieve stress. Nothing, in other words, to do with the necessary sexual function of procreation. Not even a requirement that a man and a woman should be involved. The day before, I had watched Blue '97, an attractive young man of about my own age, sucking another man's cock. I understood of course that man-woman pairings were irrelevant to romantic and other relationships, even cohabitation, and I knew that, outside of the sex booth, sexual contact was wrong regardless of genders, but the idea that sexual contact between two men could be something so utterly routine as to seem almost normal was baffling.

I stared at the limp, twitching cock. With a sigh of resignation, I leaned forward to take it in my mouth, to suck on it, to lick the sensitive underside while tasting the saltiness and smelling the raw muskiness of sweat and sexual arousal. It swelled in my mouth, hardening, growing in length, forcing my jaw open wide, and I made a tight ring with my lips as I bobbed up and down along the shaft.

A long cock indeed. The bulbous head filled my mouth, and much of the shaft went neglected. I knew I should use my throat - as I had practised the night before with my pink, silicone cock. It was just a case of breathing out, remaining calm, descending along that shaft and allowing the soft head to penetrate... An unnatural act, utterly divorced from sexual procreation, yet so intimate and infused with an awareness of power. The danger to him, should I bite; the danger to me, unable to breathe, my heart pounding in my ears as I resisted my body's instinctive need.

It had amazed me the day before, seeing Blue '97's apparent enjoyment of this act, but the more I did it myself, the more enjoyment I took in the simple act of giving pleasure with my mouth, this oral service almost an act of worship - not of a god, nor even of a man, but simply of the cock itself, both obscene and beautiful.

He finished before I realised he was close. I felt him suddenly kicking and pulsing inside my throat, and was so surprised I pulled away with a gasp - a mistake that had me coughing and choking while cum splashed against my face, some even getting into my eye.

I cried out at the burning sensation in my eye as I tried desperately to wipe the cum away. Nothing in my life had prepared me for such pain. Yellow '56 was there quickly. "Stop rubbing at it," he ordered, holding my arm away with one hand and pouring warm water from a bottle with the other. "Your eye will clean itself. Just let the tears flow."

And the tears certainly flowed, and in time the burning diminished to a persistent irritation. It certainly taught me a lesson: so much better to swallow every last drop of cum than to risk a splash in the eye.

Suffice it to say, by the end of my first month in my new job, I was very adept at sucking cocks. I mastered the use of lips, tongue and throat, I was well practised in the art of hums and moans of encouragement, and usually I could suck on a victoriously spurting cock without spilling a single drop. Each evening I would practise my technique with my silicone cock, able in time to encompass its full, prodigious length and go without breathing for a full, carefully timed minute - for which I would reward myself with a much needed fucking, thrusting myself back against the wall to feel that huge cock penetrating me deep, stretching me wide, doing all but filling my cunt with hot, fertile cum.

No, for that latter, I had to wait my turn, my appointment, my second visit to the sex booth, where once again my ankles were secured to the posts, my legs spread wide, the vibrators humming against my ass and my clitoris, driving me wild even before the door opened. A man I had never seen before, with a cock I had never seen before, stood staring hungrily at my passive, helpless cunt, and proceeded to fuck it with his cock, pounding away with lusty fervour, and while there was pleasure in having a real cock in me rather than unfeeling silicone, I missed the superior size of the latter.

But he did at last finish, filling me with spurt after spurt, and for the rest of the day, as I sucked cock after cock and filled my belly with thick, warm cum, I enjoyed the dirty sensation of that slimy essence leaking from my very, very wet cunt.

*

After a month of sucking so much cock I was doing it even in my dreams, I graduated up a floor. I had a different Manager, Green '72, a severe woman in her fifties. "Sucking cocks is easy, young lady," she said. "Yellow '56 has recommended you to me, but I warn you I'm not easily impressed."

As below, so above. I was given a locker, ordered to undress, then shown to a cubicle with a stool and a hole in the wall. This hole was a big one, however. Big enough for a person to squeeze through. A young woman sat on the stool, waiting. Her long red hair was tied back in a ponytail, and her green eyes regarded me with cool amusement. "Yellow '45," she said, holding her hand out for me in greeting.

"Red '86," I said, shaking the offered hand. Instinctively I liked her, and our fingers hesitated in contact for a brief moment afterwards. My previous close friendship with Red '43 had deteriorated to the point that I rarely saw her even at breakfast, and that moment shared with Yellow '45 was like a bright spark in darkness, offering hope of an end to the acute loneliness of recent days.

But such thoughts were brushed aside along with the curtain beyond the hole, and a naked bum and thighs pushed through. Beyond the wall was a woman, on her back, her legs in the air and spread wide, but all we could see of her was her bum and the very upper parts of her thighs. And her cunt, of course, framed with dark, trimmed pubic hair.

"It's not just the men who get a monthly oral service," Green '72 said. "All Managers have appointments. Watch carefully, and learn well, or you'll be back to sucking cocks for the rest of the year." And with an irritated snort, she left the booth, left me alone with a grinning Yellow '45 and a waiting cunt.

"Trust me," Yellow '45 said, caressing the thighs with her fingertips, "this is so much better than sucking cocks." She bent so that her nose was brushing the dark pubic hair, and breathed in. "Mmm. I adore the smell of cunt." Gently she parted the labia, revealing the delicate folds within that glistened with obvious arousal, and her tongue swept lazily around the cunt itself to that point of pleasure above, the clitoris.

I watched in amazement, imagining what the woman beyond the wall must be feeling, imagining myself in her place, Yellow '45's lips kissing my thighs, her tongue touching that most intimate part of me. I moaned quietly as my own arousal built swiftly to an aching need, and Yellow '45 glanced knowingly at me - but the cunt was her focus.

What would it be like to feel someone's mouth against my thighs and cunt and have no idea whose mouth it was, and indeed whether the mouth belonged to a man or woman? What if one day I was by chance a Manager, and once per month I had to offer my cunt to some unseen, startled twenty-one-year-old? Knowing that their lips and chin would soon glisten wetly with the evidence of my inevitable arousal and my lustful perversity? Knowing that their nose would be right there too, breathing in the raw, unfiltered smell of my impatient, hungry cunt.

What would it be like to spread Yellow '45's thighs wide, to see the curls of her red pubic hair all wet in anticipation of my touch, and to devour the feast of her offered cunt?

And I had thought resisting Red '43 would be hard. Just working alongside Yellow '45 would be a torment. Just watching her worship the cunt before her had my own cunt aching to be treated similarly. Each time her tongue swept across that anonymous clitoris, my own seemed to resonate with the imagined pleasure. Each squirm of the anonymous hips had my own squirming in sympathy.

Sighs of pleasure and words of encouragement could be heard through the thin wall, and the agitation of the protruding hips increased along with the volume and frequency of these. A sudden gush of fluids burst out around Yellow '45's cheeks, accompanied by a muffled cry, but Yellow '45 didn't pull away, didn't hesitate, but instead maintained a steady, sweeping rhythm with her tongue, drinking what she could but her chest was soaked and fluid even dripped erotically from her nipples.

Until it was over, the tension all released, Yellow '45 kissing the trembling thighs with gentle lips... Until the cunt retreated, out of sight, the curtain blocking our view.

Yellow '45 stood up. Stood facing me. Her lower face wet, her breasts too. Beautiful and amazing. She kissed me, the taste of that unknown woman's cunt on her lips. As I froze with the shock of it, she pulled away and studied me curiously. "Well?" she asked.

The shock dissipated quickly, leaving only the memory of her lips against mine, soft and warm, and abruptly all I could think about was kissing her again, kissing her properly - and so I did, and the kiss was electric, everything I had ever wanted from a kiss, tentative at first but mounting swiftly in mutual urgency. It was proof of love at first sight, that ancient fairytale of two young women encountering each other while naked in a cubicle designed for oral service of cunts. (Everyone knows that one, right?)

But, damn. Keeping my hands firmly at my sides while we kissed, to avoid any suggestion of inappropriate sexual contact, was an act of cruel self-denial.

Yellow '45 smiled as she broke our kiss. "Your turn, now," she murmured. "But I hope you'll think of me as you dive into all those gorgeous, waiting cunts."

I could only nod.