Falling

It's normal to cycle through elementary level jobs on an annual basis for the first few years in the city. These jobs are allocated randomly to new citizens, and the expectation is that as the Organiser learns what you enjoy and what you are capable of, so later jobs are selected in a way that you develop skills and eventually settle into a job for life that you will find fulfilling.

If over the course of the year, a citizen achieves a minimum competence in their job and is judged suitable for career development in that role, they are bestowed the honorific 'Apprentice'. If after a year as an Apprentice they continue to demonstrate an aptitude, they become a 'Professional'. Although Apprentice and Professional are not technically ranks, and come therefore with no privileges of rank, you cannot be selected to become a Manager at the age of thirty unless you are a Professional.

So no, Apprentice is not a rank, but it is the first stepping stone on the path.

Yellow '45 was an Apprentice. The beautiful redhead who had awoken me with a kiss in a cubicle after demonstrating to me the oral service of an anonymous cunt had proved herself so adept at administering oral pleasure that the Organiser had made it her job for life.

I was a little in awe. Up until that point, I had been approaching my job as a cruel trick of fate, an indignity to be endured until my year was over and some more normal job was selected for me. Washing windows, perhaps. Or fixing electrical wiring. Anything really. I had viewed my year of sucking cocks to be a whole year wasted in my search for a career that would see me become Apprentice first and Professional next. That way I had a chance at becoming a Manager with a bigger apartment and better food. Perhaps, in time, I might even become an Executive, and - dreaming big - one day a Director too, with an enormous apartment and all the luxury that went with it.

I had never seriously considered that I might have a career spent on my knees with genitals in my mouth. That was just too absurd an image.

And yet, I had two Managers - Yellow '56 and Green '72 - who both must have been Professionals by the age of thirty, and their profession as Managers was to manage such as I, so perhaps they, like Citizen Apprentice Yellow-60145-62-Gemini, had started out on their knees.

"So, you're a Gemini," I said in the bar after work. We were both fresh from the shower, no trace on our skin of the cunts we had spent the day with our faces buried in. The taste lingered in my mouth, however, or perhaps only in my imagination. The tea I drank did little to wash it away. Not that the taste was unpleasant, or the smell either, but it was a lingering reminder that my job was one that ninety-nine people out of one hundred, give or take, would find morally repugnant.

Not Yellow '45, however. Yellow '45 had kissed me, and as I watched her over the rim of my glass of tea, I knew I wanted her to kiss me again.

"And you're a Libra," she said. "We're both air signs. Compatible in love."

It was a good thing there was a table between us. Seeing her there with clothes on - tight black trousers with yellow lace edging; a yellow-white chequered shirt with a yellow lace bra beneath - just made me want to strip away her clothes to see her naked again. To see her breasts again. To hold them in my hands.

I had never touched anyone else's breasts before - at least, not since I was a babe in arms. To do so would contravene sexual regulations. How cruel it was that I could spend the day on my knees, sucking on cocks or with my tongue in a cunt, but I could not put my hands on the perfectly shaped breasts of the beautiful young woman in front of me.

Yellow '45 laughed suddenly. "You've got it so bad," she said. "How would you like a little taste of what you're so hungry for?"

What I was hungry for, even a little taste was too dangerous to contemplate. But Yellow '45 was so calm, so utterly confident, and I could see in her eyes that she knew exactly what I was hungry for. Dangerous or not, foolish or not, how could I deny myself the chance?

"Please," I whispered, the sound lost in the noisy bar, but the movement of my lips was affirmation enough.

Yellow '45 gave me a smile warm with delight, but there was calculation in her eyes and I wondered what exactly I was getting myself into.

*

Blues '63 and '91 were a couple of cohabiting Executives in their late forties. It was my first time in an Executive's apartment, let alone an apartment for cohabiting Executives, and the size of it took my breath away. You could have fit my single Citizen's apartment into that one several times over. The decor was luxurious, the furnishings ornate, the rooms large and warm, and the ceilings high too. I was in awe.

One room was set up like a sex booth, the familiar bench with stirruped posts being the centrepiece. "Yes," Blue '91 whispered in my ear. "We Executives get our own sex booth, which we can use as often as we like, whenever we like, and with whoever we like." She stood behind me, her soft breasts pressed against my back, her arms about my waist, her fingertips teasingly close to my cunt.

Yellow '45 and I had arrived together, and as I stood gawping at the lush apartment the two Executives ordered us to remove our clothing. I had stared at them in disbelief, shocked at being ordered to do this by two complete strangers, even if they were Executives and thus ranked even higher than the Managers whose orders I was used to. But Yellow '45 had obeyed quickly, and I reluctantly did likewise.

Blue '91, however, remained fully clothed as she held me from behind and touched me in places that technically were not sexual, but in a way that undeniably was. In the same way that I was undeniably wet, and my nipples undeniably hard in the cool air.

But it was Yellow '45 who lay on the bench, her ankles in the stirrups, her thighs spread wide to offer us all an unhindered view of her cunt. There were no vibrators against her ass and clitoris, but she was wet nevertheless, and she smiled at me as she waited.

Blue '63 removed his clothing slowly, his attention on the waiting cunt. How strange it was to be watching someone else in a sex booth! How strange, too, for it not to be anonymous. The cock about to fuck my beautiful friend belonged to a man whose name and address I knew. Barely knew, but still. He wasn't just a face to be seen once and forgotten, lost in a sea of faces.

His cock, despite the feast laid out for it, remained at half mast. "Suck it," Blue '91 whispered in my ear. "Get it nice and hard."

I had lost count of the number of cocks I had sucked during the previous month. Cocks of all sizes and shapes and colours, but all anonymous. This was no cock projecting from a hole in the wall. This was a cock attached to a very real man. A man who was looking at me. Seeing me. Who would watch me as I knelt in front of him and took him into my mouth.

Suddenly I was no longer a mere spectator to this astonishing scene. I was a participant, thrust into a profoundly sexual scenario that I was entirely unprepared for. Half in a panic, I turned to Yellow '45 for help, for advice. Yellow '45 whose legs were tied up in preparation for a fucking. She nodded encouragement.

She had promised me a taste - but none of this is what I had wanted. "Trust me," she'd said on the way to the appointment. "I need you to trust me." And I had nodded, confused about what exactly was going on but very willing to trust her.

I nodded again, choosing again to trust her, despite my instincts crying out that all of this was wrong, that people didn't have their own private sex booths, that the Organiser was the only one to decide who had sex when, that this was somehow all a trick that would end with me being severely punished. Shutting out all those urgent voices of denial, I knelt before the man and opened my mouth to accept the cock within.

How strange to be staring at a hairy belly instead of a wall. How strange to look up and see him looking back at me. I could feel my cheeks burn with embarrassment. Blue '91 knelt beside me, holding my hair out of the way so that she could watch, so that she could kiss my shame-flushed cheek as the hardening cock glided in and out between my lips. He smelled of sex and sweat, and the salty taste of his growing arousal soon filled my mouth. Although not of exceptional length, his cock was long enough to penetrate my throat. "I wish I could do what you do," Blue '91 sighed, her fingertips caressing my neck, feeling the cock within.

She made me feel like I was a toy for her to play with, or a pet perhaps. (We had dogs and cats at the commune, but pets are rare in the city.) We were supposed to be all equal in the city, but in the Executives' apartment I really didn't feel equal. I could have asked Blue '91 to respect my personal space, but not without souring the mood of the room.

Blue '63 was hard and he was ready. Pulling out abruptly, he walked over to the bench, to Yellow '45's waiting cunt, and thrust straight in, forcing a cry from her that I assumed was pain - but her expression was one of exultation. "Yes!" she said. "Fuck me with that big cock! Fuck me hard and deep!"

I stared at her in astonishment as I listened to her plead for his cock, as she begged to be treated like a slut, as she cried out for him to fill her with his hot, fertile cum... I had never heard anything like it. She was like a different person, a sexual animal driven by a consuming lust.

Blue '91 chuckled, and whispered to me, "She does act well. I hope one day you will too."

If it was an act, it was a convincing one, and certainly Blue '63 enjoyed it. He pounded his cock into her long and hard and deep, growling at her that she was a dirty slut and that he would make sure she was whipped and thrown into the gutter where she belonged. The words were horrifying.

"He's going to come inside her," Blue '91 murmured in between kisses on my cheek, "and you are going to lick his cum from her dirty cunt, aren't you, my sweet, innocent little whore?"

I stared at her in astonishment. Was she really suggesting I do it? But of course she was, and of course that's why I was there. For a taste. An impossible taste of Yellow '45's cunt made possible by the very same system that prevented it. It was so incredibly wrong, but if an Executive wanted to call me a whore and make me do the one thing I wanted more than anything in the world...

I nodded. I may even have licked my lips. "Yes!" Yellow '45 screamed as Blue '63 shuddered to a halt. He pulled out until just the head of his pulsing cock remained within.

"Be ready," Blue '91 whispered, her fingertips tracing a path across my belly. "Don't let a single drop escape you."

And suddenly there was no luxury of time to question the morality of my actions. There was no time to hesitate and consider the repercussions. Blue '63 pulled out and moved away, exposing Yellow '45's freshly fucked and cum-filled cunt to my unobstructed view, and Blue '91's hand was at my back, urging me into action...

And how could I not?

I leapt to it, diving between her wide-stretched thighs, my tongue scooping up a rivulet of cum before it could drip to the floor, my nose for a moment teasing the very entrance to her cunt and treating me to the intoxicating odour of his cum and her raw, sexual arousal.

His cum was a minor distraction. Over the previous weeks I had swallowed so much cum it had had to be factored into my daily nutritional plan. No, all that mattered to me was adoration of Yellow '45's cunt, an intimate exploration that was far superior to the crude and brutal pleasure of mere sex. This was an act of love as much as lust. Every murmur of pleasure and encouragement from Yellow '45's lips was music in my ears.

I would gladly have knelt there for hours, alternately kissing her sensitive inner thighs and sweeping my tongue across her clit, between her labia, into her cunt... but Blue '91 tugged me away abruptly, pulled sharply on my hair. "Enough," she said, "my sweet, no-longer-innocent little whore. Get dressed and go."

I hurried to obey, staying silent until Yellow '45 and I were out of the apartment and descending swiftly. My thoughts were conflicted, my emotions in chaos. On the one hand, I had gotten what I wanted, a taste of Yellow '45's cunt - a taste that lingered still on my lips - but on the other, I felt dirty, used by those two Executives for their sexual pleasure in seeming contravention of everything I thought I understood.

I wanted to ask her. I wanted Yellow '45 to explain it all, somehow. After all, she was the one who had brought me there, who had clearly known what to expect, who had clearly done it before. I wanted -

She kissed me. She turned to me suddenly in that descending elevator and kissed me, and all my thoughts and confusion and turmoil calmed.

Because that's the thing about falling in love. Nothing else matters.