1 comments/ 15025 views/ 2 favorites Reverie By: Lord Wolf The oil was warming in a bowl of hot water. I had blended it myself - vitamin E oil in which I had soaked vanilla beans and added an eyedropper of ylang-ylang. The two foam mats were laid out on the floor making a double bed and the sheet was spread over them. The room was my studio, wooden floors, stained glass windows, and a bookshelf containing Japanese pillow books and a small stereo. There were Persian prints on the wall. All was ready. The doorbell rang. Gathering my robe around me, I went to the front door. It was Carrie, long black hair across her shoulders. Her smile when she saw me was quick and her eyes sparkled in anticipation. "Am I early?" she asked. "Nah," I replied, "I've finished setting the space up. Come on in." I opened the door wide, and she passed me into the hallway, her perfume just noticeable beneath the sense of fresh air that she brought with her through the entrance. "Same place?" "Yup. Just go on through." I said. She walked down the hall and into the studio. As she reached the door she glanced back over her shoulder with a little grin. "I've been waiting for this all week." she said, and her grin became wider. I followed her into the room and closed the door. I went to the stereo and put my favourite sensual CD on the player, Ancient Egypt by Ali Jihad Racy. It is gentle and ethereal, allowing one to drift. Carrie began to undress. Of all the beautiful sights in the world, watching a woman undress is the most magnificent. Each time for me is like the very first. She pulled her T-shirt over her head, tossing it to the floor. She wore no bra - she needed none. Her breasts were high, yet lush, and she carried them with comfort. Each nipple was erect as if the air was cool. She sat on a chair and pulled off her jeans. She wore simple white cotton panties, which, while standing, she removed, one leg at a time. Her black public bush was thick and large and seldom trimmed. It started several inches below her navel and almost touched each hip, it seemed, before dropping over her pubic mound, shielding her pussy behind its tangled thicket. She lay on her stomach on the mats and waited quietly. I removed my robe. I was naked and my cock was half-tumescent in anticipation of what lay ahead. I walked over to the table and picked up the now warm bottle of massage oil. Sitting on the mat beside her, I began to drizzle just a little on to her dancer's back, soft and supple, muscular and strong. Placing the bottle on the floor I began to smooth the oil into her back. I began at the back of Carrie's neck. Her hair was spread in front of her, leaving the nape exposed. Gently I worked at the cords of muscle on either side and into the little canyon at the base of the skull. This was not the time for real neck work, however, and I moved to her shoulders and mid back. The oil began to emit its warm fragrance. "Ooomph!" she sighed. "I'm really tense there." As I worked down her back along the paravertebrals, I mixed the vertical strokes with sideways pulls from her ribcage and the sides of her breasts. She began to settle in and my hands felt the release of tension. She was beginning to drift on the music, the warmth, the touch, as I worked slowly down to her sacral dimples. I moved back to her shoulders and mid-back, using my forearms to lengthen the stroke and cover a larger surface area. Our social mores and our clothing seem to divide the body into "nice" bits and "naughty" bits. To my mind they are all divine, part of the whole, and must be treated as such. I reached again for the oil. Pouring some into my hand, I replaced the bottle on the floor and began to spread it over her classically beautiful bottom, firm but with a delicate softness that invited touch. I gently parted her cheeks and let just a drop or two land on her anus. Her legs parted slightly, revealing just a bit of her pussy in the furze of her pubic hair. I parted her legs a bit further and she moved easily. She had been here before. I settled myself between her legs, and began to massage the oil into her buttocks with smooth firm strokes. I leaned forward into the strokes so that it was almost as if I were embracing them. I separated them with my hands as I worked and allowed my fingertips to just stroke her anus without quite penetrating the winkled pink/brown orifice. Carrie's breathing changed, becoming slower and deeper, yet at the same time I could feel the beginnings of her arousal. I became fully erect and allowed the tip of my cock to just touch the crack of her ass as I worked. The fragrance of the ylang-ylang became more pronounced in response to her body heat. It was time to move to the back of her thighs. I spread some more oil and began to work it into her skin, especially at the tops, where her tendons met her pussy. I did not touch it directly though. I let the anticipation build. I then "reconnected" Carrie's thighs to her bottom using long stokes, and allowed my fingertips to again brush her anus. With feather touch I just glanced off her perineum and returned to the backs of her legs. The ylang-ylang had begun to mix with Carrie's own scent, and my breathing became unsteady as I responded viscerally to the heady mix of odours. I paused to control myself before I moved on. My glans had sprouted a tiny drop of anticipation and Ancient Egypt floated effortlessly through the airy stained glass-tinted sun as it flowed across Carrie's lovely naked body There are major nerve centres just above the knees on the backs of the legs and I spent some time opening them up, being careful to ensure that all was "connected" before I moved on, taking care to just touch the perineum lightly again. Carrie has a dancer's long legs as well as the back, and her calf muscles were firm as I kneaded to tension out of them, taking care never to pinch or push. My technique is gentleness. To massage her feet, I moved down, still kneeling between Carrie's legs with a full view of her thicketed pussy. The lips were now slightly parted. I lifted one foot, bending her leg at the knee, and began working gently at it. She was relaxed because the mat, which left no residual tension, supported her leg. I rested her leg against my chest and worked gently, separating each toe, and then moved down to the ankle, bending it almost to the limit of its range of motion. I repeated it with the other foot. I began once more to reconnect the body parts, stroking, warming her, and inhaled deeply the heady mix of perfumes. Ali Jihad Racy filled the room with sound and Carrie's breathing was deep and slow. I rested for several minutes and allowed us both to again settle. My cock, pushed to tension, had subsided a little, but we both knew that this was just the intermission. "Ready to turn over?" I asked, somewhat huskily, but very much under control I thought. In response, Carrie gave a muffed grunt and rolled over, exposing her lovely breasts and lushly thatched pubic mound. Was that a tiny pearl of moisture between her legs glistening in the sunlight? My breathing quickened and my cock gave a randy little stir, but laid low for the time being. I began again by drizzling the scented oil over her breasts and stomach with its deep longitudinal navel. An Arab friend of mine once said, "Only men have flat stomachs. A woman's should fit into the curve of the palm of your hand." Carrie's was perfect. She had delineation coming from the ribs and down her sides leaving a sweet roundness in the centre. Her abdomen then buried itself under her luxuriant pubis. I moved around to the head of the mats and knelt at Carrie's head. Her eyes were closed and I felt that she was not unaware that my cock was on the verge of standing out over her composed face. I reached underneath her head and began to knead properly her neck muscles, using the weight of her head to apply just the right amount of pressure. I then worked her throat, her cheeks and lips, bending close to hear the measured sound of her breathing. I nuzzled her earlobes. Her eyes opened and she gave a sly smile, reaching up and touching my barely controlled cock, which gave up the fight and sprang warmly to attention. "Naughty, naughty." She smiled and again closed her eyes. I returned to her side and began slow circular stokes around her navel in a widening spiral until I was reaching over her breasts and down to her pubic bone. I let each nipple slide up between my thumb and forefinger till it reached where they joined and applied just a smidgeon of pressure. She inhaled sharply. Were her thighs beginning to tremble? I moved down to her glossy hair, and poured more oil. The patch was thick and would need much oil to penetrate it. Carrie's legs were open and I could see the pink lips shining wetly between the strands of hair. I leaned over her and began gently to nuzzle the top of her furrow. I smelled the oil mixed with aroused woman and my little amphibian brain, along with the larger primate brain, could resist no longer. My tongue reached out and just teased the top of her hooded clit. "S-s-s-s-s-t!" she hissed and opened her legs wider. I probed her clit further with my tongue and felt the little man stir into action, rising to meet every touch. I began to suck on as if it were a cock and Carrie began to moan softly, almost as if humming. I probed lower into her pussy, using long licks from the clit down through the cleft into the deeper reaches of her and she grabbed my head and pulled me harder to her. She ground her pussy frantically against my mouth and teeth. "Oh God yes!" she groaned, "That's it! Yes that's it!" I raised my head and dripping beard from her crotch and said, "Turn over." She did, exposing her lovely ass and pussy to me. I leaned forward and began probing the crack of her ass with my tongue. I heard wordless cries as Carrie raised herself to me fully. Gingerly, I inserted my tongue into the tight little orifice as she began to bounce up and down on the mats. I moved lower into her pussy and used my tongue like a cock, going as deep as I possibly could into her body. Inarticulate grunts were my reward. Finally, Carrie could stand no more. She rolled suddenly on to her back and jammed my face once again into her very hot pussy. "Eat me, dammit!" she ordered frantically. I began again licking her now prominent clit, moving the hood from around it with the tip of my tongue. She was beyond speech. At the same time I reached around and delicately began to insert my finger into her moistened anus. She thrashed. Slowly I worked it in until I felt the sphincter relax and I was in to the second knuckle. I felt her contractions begin. As they did I began, ever so slowly to withdraw my finger in time to her contractions. "Oh God! Don't stop, don't stop!" Carrie groaned. Her orgasm built and I could feel the powerful contractions begin to mount. With my free hand I felt the tension and the beginning tremors in her abdomen. At the very pinnacle of her pleasure, I suddenly pulled my finger from her ass and gave a sudden three fast sucks on her clit, and her orgasm broke in waves of intense spasming. My face in her crotch rode the waves with fiendish glee, never releasing her clit until her muffled animal groans melted into the silence of the afternoon. "Whoosh!" Carried panted at my drenched face. "That was terrific! I'm totally wasted, too wasted to do you." "That's okay. There'll be other times." I smiled. "Besides, I enjoy your orgasms almost as much as you." We lay together in the stained glass room while Ali Jihad Racy played quietly, two happy primates suffused in a sexual glow, the scent of superb sex suffusing the air as the afternoon drowsed peacefully away to evening. "What time is it?" Carrie asked sleepily. "Don't know. Maybe 4:30." I replied. "Shit! I'm late!" she said, "I've got to get home and make dinner." She rose from our pungent sheet and headed for the bathroom, bundling her clothing as she went. I heard the shower running as I lay there, bathed in her glow and wonderful juices. When she emerged ten minutes later, Carrie's hair was brushed and glossy and you couldn't tell that not half an hour earlier she'd been a woman in rut driven by the demands of her mindless furrow. She gave me a lingering kiss and asked, "Same time next week?" "I'll be here." I said. With that she was out the door and back to her regular life, back to her husband and children in the Valley. Reverie You were working in your office Lord, I was chained to my latex-covered bed by an ankle-shackle, also working, writing, naked. I had already been summoned to act as human pissoir twice, dragging the chain behind me. The second time, culminating in an act of worship that had you bucking with lustful abandon in your chair and jerking thick sperm down my throat, before banishing me to my room while you finished your work. You mentioned kindly that my presence was too much of a distraction. I acquiesced, slinking off to my bed, jangling the chain, the beautiful chain which denotes my status as your sex-slave Lord. Some while later I heard you speaking on the phone, obviously to a woman, telling her how much you were enjoying the photos she'd sent, asking probing intimate questions. This was nothing new to me, sprawled naked on the bed as I was, a willing accomplice in your seductions, yet during the flirtatious conversation you moved about my room... catlike...gathering items from drawers, your eyes glittering with perverse intent. A hand gesture to me to attend to my screen and not be so nosey, the look in your eyes brooking no argument, feeling your weight settle behind me, leaning back against the wall..your hand casually claiming my wet cunt as you chat flirtily to the woman...fingers working into my sucking depths...probing my anal star, petting me as one would a dog or cat, while purring filth with the prospect on the phone. Accustomed as I am to satisfying your every whim, my body yours to use whenever and however you wish, I am still so aroused by each and every instance of that use, to be a conduit for your unquenchable lusts is all I crave. Each look or touch no matter how casual eliciting a thrill capable of flipping my stomach, causing my aureolae to pucker and prickle; a hydraulic push of fluid to dry my mouth as my cunt begins to leak copious fuck slime. Biting back moans of desire while you speak of fisting the bitch, while almost fisting your bitch describing your favourite toy, the inflatable butt plug, and how you would use it on her. Gazing back at you with a sharp intake of breath as the cold smoothness of the inflatable butt plug is drawn through my puffy petals to gather lube...your eyes briefly burning into mine as you smile knowingly and drool a long string of saliva on to my winking pucker, then launching into a soaring monologue on the merits of a poly amorous lifestyle to the potential new seductee. Your left hand idly pressing that inflatable sex-toy deep into my rectum, not even looking while you do it, ensuring the snout of the plug is buried to it's base before pumping it up as i squirm and grunt. The clink of your belt, that familiar sound, sending my heart racing; evoking the ghosts of so many wonders that follow that sound, my sex lips tingling with the memory of the beatings that seasoned strap has given. My feminine sex musk ingrained in the leather, blended with the stink of so many other sluts who have been fortunate enough to have the pleasure; just knowing you wear our essence every day enough to make my clit throb. The fabric slither as you shuck your trousers, thrilling to slippery music of your foreskin sliding back and forth. These aural delights telegraphing your arousal, signalling your intent. Gasping with desire, I realise the phone is now on loudspeaker, resting on a shelf to your right. Both your strong hands drag my hips over to cover your own, my arms instinctively bracing on the edge of the king size mattress, "Are you wanking, Chris?" is chuckled from the phone, a nice voice, cultured, friendly, with an undertone of a lust that resonates through my very being; I want her to want you Lord, as I do. " Yes darling, you know what you do to me...keep talking, spur me on." This spoken while you're arranging my splayed groin in your lap, purposely ignoring my tits, your neglect of them signifying my role in this; this act is not about me, or your obsession with my particular attractions but merely, solely, singularly about your pleasure. Pressing against you, eager for the onslaught, glancing back again I see your grin as you angle that ultra stiff cucumber-cock forward and drag my wet cunt-lips over it while your phone whore describes her needs. Finally, impaling me with a groan,nimble digits gripping my hip flesh bruisingly as you lunge upwards to spear deep into my greedy drooling fuck-hole; working my whore-hole back and forth over your straining prick, your hips rolling and shifting lazily just wanking inside me; my insatiable cunt clenching around your leaping spur of wanton fuck meat. The bloated sex-toy in my anus making my cunt tighter ensuring that my g-spot is properly assaulted, pushing back, hips writhing, listening intently to the phone-fuck. My gasping harmonising with the liquid thrusts of your priapic dick slipping and sliding in and out of me; the woman on the phone questioning the sounds of our coupling, your voice tremulous, lower as you answer; "I'm almost there darling, tit-meat has a wonderfully magnetic primary wank hole, especially when it's shitter is plugged tight; one day you'll find out when it squats over your face and squeezes my creamy spunk out into your mouth while I make you squirt" Smirking at your lewd words and the woman's palpable shock that now hovers above our docked grunting bodies as she keeps the line open. She's struck speechless. You no longer needing her voice, sinking into the luxury of your own personal plush fuck doll; mind focused on the grazing of synapses, each neurone that fires as our genitals sensually slide over and over. Your eyes closed to relish the moment. Feral lust dictating our rut, the knowledge that she is listening; an absent audio-voyeur, the garnish that takes us over the edge, tumbling...shattering.... "Oh you fucking nasty piece of addictive fuck flesh!" Your exclamation filling the room as your bloated cock flexes and blooms rammed as deep as you can force it against my pulsating cervix, spewing molten pearls deep within to baste my womb while my muscular pelvic walls spasm; milking you, draining your balls, my silky flesh shimmering and roiling in your grip. Phone woman audibly splutters; you laugh, lazily gliding your hands, still full of my soft ass, flesh back and forth to coax judders of aftershock from us both: "Well darling, you've caused me to make such a mess of tit-meat and it thanks you for its climax; I think I may reward it with dinner out tonight for being such an amenable little cum dump. I'll be keeping it's fuck-holes plugged of course. I'll speak to you soonest darling." Reaching out to end the call you smile down at me, holding out two large rubber plugs, one conical, one penis shaped; asking me to choose which one should go in which hole so that we may venture out later with me wearing them both. Wrinkling my nose I reply that I need to pee before I'm plugged. Wickedly your eyes sparkle, your nod of acquiescence almost imperceptible. The kinky thought causes a flex of your buttocks to inflate your prick inside me once more, sealing your copious load deep as I release my bladder, over you. The relief as the warm fluid sprays out of me, caressing our flesh, the throb of you so deep inside me as the underside of your shaft is massaged by the strength of my flow, the pure head-fucking hallucinatory deviancy of all that this day has been taking me to heaven again, my body gently bucking as I shudder through my second climax while voiding all over your sticky root and dangling sacks, your hands kneading and splaying my generous bottom. Hearing the hiss as the anal plug is deflated...still shivering from my second release, moaning in my throat as the plug is withdrawn, cheeks burning with a blush as i feel the weight of your gaze on my gaping rosette. My hips jerking upwards in response to the cold penis-shaped rubber plug now nudging at my cunt lips even as they are still stretched wide around your still rigid fuck-pole, your breath ragged as you watch and feel that plug slide inside, against your shaft...pulling back to exchange warm live flesh for cold rubber, a slivery smear of mixed cream blobbing the amber pool that's gathered around us on the red latex sheet, my brain flaring at the utter lewdness of all we are doing, so secret, so forbidden.....so very right Lord. I notice you licking your lips as the plug's flared rim nestles against my tumid vulva: "Get that big arse in the air tit-meat," you growl; Instantly I obey you, sliding my torso into the lemonade pool of my own filth to hoist my hips up high...stiff nipples dragging in the slopping yellow miasma, the latex-clad mattress giving and contorting under our shifting forms, directing the tepid natural champagne forward with my udders as you crouch behind me. "Face down tit-meat, I wanna see you slurp your piss up, be a pig for me. Wallow, you horny slut, keep that big arse splayed with your hands." Grunting into the puddle of my own piss, blowing pee bubbles, I press my nose to the wet rubber, going crazy with lustful exhibitionism, wanting you to see the most debased, lewd and whorish side to my nature. I throw my head from side to side, spitting, slurping, giggling, my tousled mane soaking up the chilly fragrant mess. Guzzling my piss lake loudly while my hands grip my buttocks and splay them wide, expanding my already yawning dirt pipe. And then what's this Lord? Yes, yes yes, I'm flinching at the kiss of your warm flow on my crease as you use my arsehole for your own personal piss pot, no contact between us but the playing of your stream over my willing flesh. "keep still tit-meat, don't you dare spill any" you say. Panting and shaking, swollen cunt walls clenching that dildo-shaped rubber plug hard; stealing a backward glance between my hanging udders, watching your face contort into a cruel grin as you film my obedient debasement on your phone before plunging the second plug into my arse-latrine to seal me full of you. Smiling proudly as you pat my wobbly buttocks: "Good girl tit-meat, come on, we need to shower if we're going out to eat." Reverie "Ok, hon. Ready for me to do the paperwork?" The colonists still called bureaucratic procedure paperwork, even though paper was an all-but-forgotten concept. Wood from Terran trees, grown in biodomes, was still only available for luxury handicrafts. Trees were far too uncommon to think of pulping them for writing surfaces. Jessie's husband, Dave, already in his all-together, moved out of the angle of the webcam she faced. "All systems go," he replied. Another idiomatic relic from a bygone era. She faced the secure webcam and started the check-in. "I am Jessica Conrad, recording at..." She paused while her eyes flicked to the clock. "... 21:36 hours on day 59 of 218 After Founding. I am about to voluntarily use my tiana installation, pursuant to license N033685. My husband, Dave, is present as my only attendant, and I prospectively consent to any non-injurious tactile or oral stimulation he sees fit to administer to me. I further specifically consent to penile-vaginal intercourse with him during this interlude. I am setting the timer for two hours, beginning imminently." This speech was mostly boilerplate in this era, but the protocol had not substantially changed from the early days of the colony. History recorded that the "battle of the sexes" nearly turned into a real war that would have destroyed the human presence on this planet in those first months after the first tiana vines had been discovered. Jessie stopped recording and turned her head to look at Dave. "I've set two hours as a default, but I can't sleep in tomorrow morning. Whenever you think I'm done to a turn, you can take me out of the oven." Dave gave a little chuckle in appreciation of the metaphor. Jessie moved to a fair-sized alcove on one side of their bedroom. There was an odd contraption there, adapted to adopt several conformations, each designed to support her body comfortably in one of several positions. Each position would have her facing a transparent window with a movable panel behind it. She tossed her robe back onto the bed, leaving herself nude. She inserted a key into a control display, tapped a PIN into a keypad there, and pressed ENTER. A soft chime came from the bedroom door. Opening it would end the session, just one of the many safety protocols in place. She turned and struck a sexy pose for her husband. Jessie was pleased to see he was half-hard already. "Are you going to show me a good time?" "I always do my best," he asserted. "I know you do." Jessie smiled and straddled the support frame. She settled down onto soft cushions set at odd angles. One figure-eight shaped cushion comfortably supported her chest so that her breasts would dangle down on either side of it. Her thighs, knees, shoulders and arms settled into contours custom molded to her personally. Left completely accessible, of course, was her bottom and vulva. A countdown would be finished soon; she made a few last adjustments for maximum comfort then waited expectantly, facing the window. When the countdown on the control pad reached zero, the panel slid away, revealing a terrarium behind the sturdy glass. A native plant, the tiana vine, was growing there. Its bulbs glowed with bioluminescence, swirling in patterns of colored light. Jessie calmly let her gaze settle on one of the bulbs. Conscious thought began to slip way from her. Memory and volition began to fade. Her muscles stiffened into a soft rigor. The full effect took about ten seconds to manifest, and she let it happen. The first time she had faced a bulb and felt the effect take hold, she had had to steel her will and do what she had resolved to do, and not flinch away during the first few seconds when that was still possible. But Jessie was an experienced hand at this now. She kept her eyes on the bulb as the swirling colors quieted her mind. Jessie drifted in a haze of carefree, thoughtless, euphoria. Human science had not yet figured out how the vine's light show could have this effect, nor why only women were affected by it. Exobiologists knew that the display attracted the pollinators the plant depended on, but those creatures didn't fall into the same all-consuming reverie women experienced. That was the colonists' name for it: reverie. Trance wouldn't be as good a name for it. For all that it looked like the monomania of hypnosis, women experiencing reverie weren't rendered suggestible. Subjectively, every few seconds, a burst of pleasure seemed to manifest on a random place somewhere on Jessie's body and spread like a slow wave away from the initial spot. Medical scans had proved that this was purely an in-brain phenomenon, but it was no less real to women in reverie for all that. At a certain point, Jessie couldn't know how long since estimating the passage of time requires cognition, the pattern of the waves of pleasurable sensation was no longer languorous and random. They came more quickly now, and each one started in her breasts and swirled to all parts of her body from there. Within the reverie, she had no idea why or how the sensation had changed. She could only drift and accept her experience. Once spellbound by a tiana bulb, a woman would stay that way until the line of sight was broken; there were no recorded cases of a woman willfully turning away or closing her eyes long enough to break free. They blinked, reflexively, but that was not nearly long enough for one to emerge from a reverie. Novelty is a long-recognized aphrodisiac, but unwanted in an attendant. First, a woman in reverie couldn't recognize new from old. Second, she couldn't let her attendant know if something didn't feel good. The best attendant was an old love who knew you intimately...someone you'd talked over exactly how to touch you. Someone who had made love to you so often they had muscle memory of how to please you. Dave played with his wife's nipples, applying just that much squeeze, tugging just that far. Deep in reverie, Jessie was floating in a sea of bliss, feeling both the perfect milking and the surges it generated flowing outwards again and again from the locus of her breasts. Dave glanced around as he worked his wife's down-hanging udders like a dairy farmer. Her face always looked the same at times like this: a vague smile on her lips, her eyes fixed forwards staring intently. Every so often, she blinked. There was no hint of her inner state to be seen there. But looking the other way, the trickle of girl juice already oozing down her inner thighs seemed to suggest he was doing well. After a while, Dave left off and shifted his chair behind his wife. He harvested some of her slipperiness on his fingertip. He assayed little circles around and around her anus. He didn't poke inwards; she had no enthusiasm for that. It was the surface tickle that moved her. While he worked, he looked past Jessie's shoulders. The glowing tiana bulbs were just colored lights for him. Not for the first time, he sighed. Virtually every woman on the planet used tiana booths to some extent, and they all swore by it. Most often, they weren't attended; they just settled back in a lounge chair, set the safety systems for the time they wanted, and let the planet spin without them for a spell. The euphemism was, "taking a mini-vacation." A variation was for the woman to slip a small vibrator in her panties before starting. That was, "a luxury vacation," since it was universally asserted that external stimulation, especially of an erogenous area, synergized with their subjective sensory environment powerfully. To have less than twenty climaxes in an hour's worth of luxury vacation was considered a below average outcome. But when a woman really wanted to stir her senses, most wanted the hand of a lover attending them. Dave glanced a second time over Jessie's shoulder and the view and his position combined to remind him of a silly incident. The other year, Jessie's long time BFF, Kate, was going through a rough break up and really needed to get away from it all for a time. Temporarily without a partner, she had asked Jessie to attend her, and Dave had assured her he didn't mind. As Jessie told him after, things began well, but then she moved behind Kate, just as Dave was behind Jessie now, facing forward. She'd been insufficiently attentive to her own situation. She'd glanced over Kate's shoulder, missed the signs of encroaching reverie, and stiffened up in place, sitting in the chair. The two of them came out of it together when the timer ran out and the terrarium closed, two of Jessie's fingers still in Kate's twat, her assignment having been left only half done. Dave decided it was time for the next stage, and moved his attention two inches lower. When it came to her clitoris, his wife liked a light, fast tickle within and aligned with the slot between her labia. Jessie didn't move or moan, but in short order the entrance to her vagina jerked rhythmically as the hollow organ within contracted reflexively in orgasm. Dave murmured out loud, "Oooh, that was stronger than average, if seeing this a thousand times has made me any judge. What do you say, hon?" Of course, there was no reply. After vouchsafing his wife a few dozen climaxes, Dave pushed the chair back and stood behind her. The versatile support that cradled her was set to the correct height to have her vagina match his penis for comfortable standing intercourse. He eased himself into her. Of course, she was sopping wet and slippery, but caution was always the wisest course when reverie was involved. When they were having ordinary sex, cowgirl style, sometimes Jessie would surprise him by submerging him hard and fast. But on such occasions, it was her choice. Some couples always waited until after reverie to fuck so that the woman would be moving back. Still, a fair number of women, Jessie included, thought that the pleasure waves evoked by penetration were subjectively different. "Just...sweeter...somehow," was how Jessie had put it. Usually Dave gave her a few minutes, then put himself on hold until she came back to herself. But remembering what his wife had said about not being able to schedule a lie-in in the morning, he went with it. Holding Jessie's bottom, he stroked long and strong within her and made his own release. Dave eased the two of them apart, then touched the non-emergency stop button. The panel closed, breaking the line of sight to the vine chamber. Jessie began to think and remember. Her body began to unstiffen, and she stretched and disengaged herself from the support frame. She rubbed her skin in a few places where it had contacted the various cushions. Jessie looked at her husband with a impish smile. "What's with this false modesty, eh? 'If I'm any judge...' That first one was extra big, and well you know it!" Women recollected their entire experience of a reverie after it was over; they just couldn't process more than the instant moment while it lasted. She tapped the control pad again, this time with her personal all-clear code. To forget that step would bring a squad of EMTs, and a hefty bill for having called them out needlessly. Jessie moved forward and pushed her husband down on their bed and straddled him. Though she could tell from the last drops of cum oozing from him that he'd already reached the peak, Jessie didn't think of suggesting sleep yet. The wisdom passed down from mothers to daughters was that after-care of one's attendant should not be skipped unless they really, truly insisted that they didn't feel the need for it on that occasion. Jessie believed in the guideline. "How would I feel," she sometimes thought, "laboring over an unresponsive body for the better part of an hour, and then have that person just say good night?" She massaged his arms and chest, lightly buffeted his face with her breasts, and dragged her long black hair across his body. Most important of all, she murmured her gratitude into his ears. "You're so good to me. I'm still aglow from all the things you did." She nuzzled his cheek. "Thank you, love." After a while, by unspoken acclamation, they arranged themselves for bed. Dave was asleep first, but in the last few moments before she faded, Jessie remembered her history lessons. The women of the first generation colonists, who had lived part of their lives on Earth, were terrified when tiana vines were first discovered. In their minds, the bulbs were the ultimate rape drug and they were on the verge of a dark age if they didn't act decisively. Draconian laws were passed, elaborate precautions were put in place, and civil war between the genders was narrowly averted. But interestingly, they turned out to be almost unnecessary. Back on Earth, the records related, sex had been considered mostly "for men," and women there were said to have commoditized that dynamic to a greater or lesser extent. In the colony, sex become mostly "for women," since reverie expanded their erotic capacity and it was men who were asked to spend their attention to make their mate's experience all it could be. The phenomenon reversed the social dynamic, and historians asserted that reversal produced a result the home planet hadn't achieved. Jessie stroked her husband's arm affectionately, draped across her belly has he spooned her. It seemed a man would do a lot for a woman, just in return for knowing it was appreciated.