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Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 01

By: Erinaceous



Ezra's last night in Capella Spaceport

Even in the twenty-sixth century of the Common Era, nearly five-hundred years after man's first space-flight, when the sexes were as equal as nature would allow, it was still every man's fantasy to be marooned on a planet wholly populated by lonely sex-starved women. This actually happened to Ezra Goldrick, a forty-year-old planetary prospector, who in the year 2554 crash-landed on Samothea, an apparently uninhabited world about two-thousand light-years from Earth.

Ezra Goldrick was a successful space explorer. Brave and resourceful, he had been part of a team that had so far found three new planets capable of being 'terraformed' (that is, made Earth-like for colonisation). Now he wanted to set off on his own and make his fortune with one big venture.

Like every planetary prospector, Ezra knew the story of Samothea, the ideal planet for terraforming, apparently 'lost' about a century ago, after it had been prospected, terraformed and a first transport of settlers sent. Nothing had since been heard of either terraformers or settlers. Now Ezra had decided it was time to take a risk.

He sank his fortune into rediscovering Samothea. His friends, family and business backers sank in ten times more. The prize was well worth the risk and Ezra's bounty for proving it safe to colonise again would make him rich for life.

Before leaving Earth, Ezra put in a sealed bounty claim to the original Settler Company but did not bother to tell the Prospectors' Guild where he was going (as if they'd bother sending anyone to rescue him if he got in trouble!). Like all prospectors, who fear claim-jumpers more than anything, Ezra was secretive even with his closest family but he left a letter with his sister, asking her (as usual) not to open it for a month.

Then Ezra said goodbye to his friends, sister and his parents and spent a month in deep space thoroughly testing his new hyperspace engines on his way to Capella Spaceport to start his journey.

In Capella Spaceport, Ezra replenished his stores and finished his preparations for the series of hyperspace jumps that he hoped would take him near to the Samothean solar system, from where he could proceed cautiously. Taking every precaution, he even powered the batteries of his emergency escape pods and replaced their medical kits.

Now it was evening by Earth-standard time and Ezra was as ready as he would ever be, so he closed up his ship and took the moving walkway from the Southern Docks to the commercial district of the space-port, seeking a special kind of company for his last night before an unknown time away from civilisation.

Forty-two light years from Earth, Capella Spaceport was a relatively lawless entrepot, full of planetary prospectors, miners, adventurers, gamblers and 'entertainers' (that is to say, prostitutes). Its anarchy was kept in check by a battalion of military police stationed there, who occasionally came to the aid of the weak civic authorities. Besides the docks themselves, the most notorious bars were in the district known as The East Causeway, where a man could get a drink if he was thirsty, a woman if he was lonely, drugs if he was stupid, a fight if he was brave and a loan if he was suicidal. Ezra was thirsty and lonely as he took his place on an unusually empty walkway.

Entering a bar where he had often met his favourite entertainer, a tall voluptuous red-head named Hestia, Ezra saw his quarry was not there. In fact, the place was empty except for a pretty young Asian girl in a very short skirt and a crop-top, occupying a stool at the bar, nursing a drink of an ugly yellow colour with a foolish-looking umbrella in it. Assuming she was an entertainer, Ezra took a place at the bar next to her and ordered himself a beer. He addressed her directly, saying:

"Well, this is my last night on Capella. Any idea what people do for fun around here?"

The girl smiled up at him. If she recognised his words as a standard pickup line, she did not show it but answered politely.

"Besides the bars and the casino, I know there's a low-gravity gym and a public park with a small zoo. Of course, if you have money" - she used a word that Ezra thought was significant - "there are plenty of shops. I'm afraid I don't know much else yet. I'm new here myself."

Ezra could not make out the girl. The mention of money seemed to hint that she was an entertainer; but then why mention shopping? Any other entertainer would have added: "Show me your money and I'll take you to a really fun place."

The girl sounded educated and refined, which meant nothing in a place like Capella Spaceport, unless she was holding out for a high price and a more attractive client. Even so, the girl interested Ezra.

"My name's Ezra," he said.

"I'm Yumi."

"What brings you to Capella, Yumi?"

"I'm on holiday," she answered. "How about you?"

Ezra was certain she was not on holiday because no one ever came to Capella on holiday, yet he was still unclear whether Yumi was a prostitute or just an innocent customer who misunderstood quite what she looked like or where she was. She also seemed a little anxious, occasionally looking around the empty bar and resting her gaze on the doorway.

"Just stopping here for the night," he told her. "I'm off prospecting tomorrow."

Yumi knew the planetary prospector's life to be a glamorous one of danger, thrills, fights and women in every spaceport, but she showed only a polite interest. Even so, Yumi and Ezra were soon getting on well, talking about Yumi's home on Earth and Ezra's adventures, space-hopping around the galaxy. Although Ezra was failing to secure the services of an entertainer, yet nothing else was happening in the pub or in the street outside. Even the barman, who had been pretending not to listen while he rubbed a glass with a dirty towel, gave up eavesdropping and went away to do some genuine work.

They took their drinks to a table in the window to be more comfortable and, although both kept a surreptitious eye on the door, Ezra became genuinely interested in Yumi, who had gained an engineering degree, had recently started working for one of the big East Asian engineering firms and specialised in hyperspace drives. He still didn't buy her story of a solo holiday on Capella but believed Yumi was waiting for someone, so obviously was she scanning the pub's entrance; yet she kept up her half of the conversation well enough.

People gradually drifted in and the bar was noisy and full by the time Hestia, the gorgeous entertainer Ezra had been seeking, arrived in the boisterous company of about twenty men and women. The men were in military uniform and the women wore the revealing kind of garb preferred by entertainers and, apparently, Japanese hyper-drive engineers on holiday.

Excusing himself to Yumi for a moment, Ezra got up to speak to Hestia but saw she already had a client, an officer in Naval whites. When Hestia saw Ezra, she whispered something to her escort and while he obediently stood up and made his way to the bar, Hestia signalled Ezra to approach.

"Hi, Hestia," he said, when he had pushed through the throng to her table, "I hoped to meet you here earlier. This is my last night in Capella for a while."

"Oh, what bad luck, Darling," she replied. "If only you had called me before. A cruiser landed this afternoon and we all went down to the Northern Docks to meet it. ... I always love watching big stately vessels come into a tight dock," adding with a salacious grin; "it barely fitted." But Ezra was too preoccupied to notice the opening she gave him for a dirty joke. He was thinking how the arrival of a military ship explained why it was so quiet in the town-centre when he had arrived.

"It was just my luck!" he said. "I expect the pubs and hotels at the docks are heaving."

"Too right! That why we came down here," Hestia agreed, nonchalantly shrugging away his failure at sexual banter. "I'm sorry, I can't even recommend a friend to you. As you can see, everyone I know already has an escort."

There were gorgeous entertainers all around. Some were sitting on the sailors' laps: others had got up to dance, in a voluptuous but energy-saving style. Clearly disappointed, Ezra glanced back at Yumi and Hestia followed his eyes. Even before he spoke, she had kindly advice for him:

"Not a chance, darling," she said, gently. "I've been in the game for years and unless this is her first night, she's not that kind of girl."

"Oh, well," said Ezra: "I can at least be a gentleman. I'll take Yumi on a tour of the town (such as it is) and show her a good time."

"Well aren't you just the sweetest man imaginable," Hestia cooed, stroking Ezra's cheek. "What a pity that horrid old Commodore grabbed me first." Just at that moment, the horrid old Commodore himself was marching up to Hestia, carrying two glasses, keen to know why she was talking to another man.

"Well, good bye, Ezra," she said, gently pushing him away and fixing an engaging smile to turn on the Commodore. "Duty calls. Have a safe trip!"

Putting his own brave face on, Ezra returned to Yumi, who had spent the last five minutes thoroughly scanning the crowd without success.

"Yumi, it's too noisy in here for me," Ezra said. "Would to care to go somewhere else?"

Yumi checked the time, decided she had waited long enough and smiled sweetly up at Ezra. "Yes, I would like that, Ezra. Thank you."

As they passed through the throng to the exit, Yumi gave each face a last scan before resigning herself to whatever fate her disappointed vigil had ensured. Outside the bar, however, Yumi made her mind up to be happy. She performed a graceful hop to get onto the moving walkway that would take them across the centre of the space-station and linked her arm with Ezra's to steady her for when the change in artificial gravity and coriolis forces would throw her off-balance.

Becoming bright and chatty, Yumi demanding to know where Ezra planned to take her. Improvising, he suggested the low-gravity exercise hall, which Yumi enthusiastically endorsed, slowing their progress only a little by dawdling at the windows of the posh boutiques along the more salubrious Central Circle.

On the exercise deck, they donned jump-suits to float and gyrate in the rubber-padded hall. Yumi laughed and grabbed hold of Ezra to right herself after a few ambitious pirouettes left her dangling upside-down. Blaming the restrictive top-half of her jump-suit, Yumi undid the jacket and tied its arms around her waist. Now she could spin gymnastically in only trousers and bra. She did this in such apparent ignorance of its teasing effect on Ezra that he scolded himself for ever thinking that such an innocent girl could have been an 'entertainer'.

Hot and sweaty after a good workout, they had invigorating steam showers and met outside the sports hall, flushed and radiant.

If Yumi loved the low-gravity deck, she adored the Star View promenade, a walkway under a perspex dome on the top side of the spaceport that always pointed away from Capella, giving clear views of deep space. They paraded under a velvety heaven glistening with a billion diamond pinpricks of liquid fire. The romantic possibilities of a man, a woman and a canopy of a billion stars was not lost on Ezra, of course, but his role that night forced gentlemanly restraint on him. He was to enjoy Yumi's company for its own sake.

Enervated by their immersion in immensity, Yumi and Ezra proceeded slowly and silently to the Star View Restaurant and ate a surprisingly good dinner for ten Galactic Pounds on Ezra's credit stick. Then, re-charged by her meal and comfortable in Ezra's company, Yumi completed her transformation into a lively and knowledgeable companion, interested to know how Ezra's hyperdrive motors had performed in their recent tests. Ezra was proud of his ship and happy to describe its virtues. So ended a pleasant evening for two random strangers thrown together light-years from their mutual home.

It was time for Ezra to return to the dock and get some sleep before his big day tomorrow.

"Come on, Yumi," he said, escorting her to the pavement outside the restaurant. "I'll see you back to your hotel."

"Is the night over, then?"

"It is for me, I leave in about ten hours."

"But you haven't shown me your ship yet."

"Do you want to see it? It's not very impressive, you know."

"Ezra, I'd like to see your ship very much," Yumi assured him, facing him in a determined stance.

Ezra could not refuse.

"Then we'll go to the ship for a nightcap and, afterward, I'll put you in a taxi. Capella's docks are not a safe place to wander alone in the small hours."

They were at the docks in ten minutes and the tour of his compact and practical spaceship with its hold full of prospecting equipment took only another fifteen. Then they sat as comfortably as possible in the restricted cabin while Ezra made tea for Yumi and poured himself a whisky.

They were silent for a minute or two, then Yumi said "Will you tell me about your trip? You never said exactly where you're going."

Ezra had not wanted to talk about his mission in public, not knowing who might be listening; but back at his ship, the night before he left, he felt no further compunction toward secrecy.

"Have you heard of Samothea?" Ezra asked.

"Of course," Yumi averred. "It's the lost planet isn't it, the 'other Earth' on the far side of the galaxy. No one who goes there ever comes back."

"Well, that's the myth. Samothea is not on the far side of the galaxy but it's true that no one has yet come back from there. And it is the 'other Earth' in the sense that, had Samothea been successfully colonised, it would have rivalled Earth as the most life-friendly planet in the galaxy."

"Where is it?"

"Nearly two-thousand light-years away, on the inner edge of our spiral arm. We cannot see its solar system from any inhabited world or spaceport because there are dust clouds in the way but its star has been photographed by probes in the last few years."

"So what happened?"

"No one knows for sure. The planet was discovered about a hundred and twenty years ago. Robot terraforming had proceeded so well that about twenty years later, a team of three-hundred engineers landed there to manage the project directly. The engineers would have spread plant-seeds, laid out forests and cloned and released thousands of insects, fish, frogs, small reptiles, birds and even mammals. There may have been prospecting for ores and minerals. I am relying on the last report and adding my own guesses, you understand."

"I understand. Then what?"

"Then nothing. One-hundred years of silence."

"Did no one try to contact Samothea?"

"Oh, yes, plenty. Many communication probes were sent through hyperspace in the next decade or two but none returned a signal. Even some prospectors tried jumping to Samothea but none returned or even sent distress calls; so whatever happened there disrupted communications and probably killed spaceships, maybe even a whole planet."

"And you're just going to jump there?" Yumi was genuinely concerned.

"Well, it's a calculated risk. No one has tried for fifty years or so. Maybe whatever caused the problem has died down now and gone away. I'll be careful. I'll make a dozen small jumps so that, unless whatever hit Samothea disrupted hyperspace pathways, my final jump should land a good distance from the planet. Time enough to take stock and prepare for danger."

"I hope so," Yumi said sincerely. "What do you expect to find there?"

"An empty world. Unfortunately, it's unlikely there'll be any people surviving, neither engineers nor the first ship-load of settlers, but their terraforming technology might have done its job. If not, we'll have to start over. Of course, the worst case scenario is there's no planet there at all because some catastrophe destroyed it completely."

Yumi shuddered at the prospect, showing real fear again for Ezra's safety. She had grown to like this charming and generous man in the few hours she had known him.

"You're very brave leaping two-thousand light-years to a place where hundreds of people most likely have already been killed. I wouldn't do that."

"Yet you came all the way to Capella on your own."

"That's different," Yumi assured him. "I had to come."

"You had to?"

"Sorry, I meant I wanted to. I wanted to do something different, just for once."

"Well, Capella is certainly different but I think you've taken just as much risk as me."

"Will you have any stops on the way to Samothea?" Yumi wondered, changing the subject to something more comfortable for her.

"No. I don't plan to stop unless I need to."

"And how long will you stay away?"

"Well, that depends. If there's nothing there, I'll come straight back. If there is something, then I could be gone a year or two, depending on what I find."

Yumi stayed silent, thinking for a few moments while Ezra sipped his whisky and looked kindly at her. She shyly glanced back at him and smiled.

"You've been out in space for a month testing your engines, then you were on Capella for just this evening and tomorrow you're going off for maybe a year. You know what I would have done tonight if I were you?"

"What would you have done, Yumi?"

"I would have found myself a woman to sleep with. ..."

Ezra was shocked into silence but Yumi wasn't finished.

"... and I would have fucked her brains out."

Ezra coughed. He quickly recovered his voice and decided on an honest reply.

"Did you see me talking in the bar to a tall curvy red-head in tight revealing clothes?"

"I think so." Yumi had been rather introspective at the time but she had scanned everyone who came into the bar.

"Her name is Hestia. She is an entertainer. I'd gone to the bar to meet her but she already had a client from the military cruiser that docked this afternoon."

"I see," Yumi said, "so you ended up nurse-maiding me. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Ezra assured her. "You are very good company and I had a lovely evening."

Then Yumi remembered. "But you started talking to me before Hestia came in...." There was sudden realisation and an accusation: "You thought I was ...." Yumi stood up, her hands on her hips.

Ezra closed his eyes, waiting for an explosion of offended dignity. It never came. Instead, Yumi burst out laughing.. Her high tinkling laugh was full of genuine amusement.

"Well, that's ... hmm ... precious, wouldn't you say?"

"I don't dare say anything, Yumi." Ezra risked opening one eye. Yumi had relaxed her arms but was still standing.

"You were a perfect gentleman all evening, Ezra. Why were you so bashful? After all, I know you think I dress like a prostitute!"

She was still joking, he knew, but he didn't risk saying anything.

"I could be her, if you want," Yumi said softly, coming closer.

"Her, whom?"

"The woman who sends you off into the unknown with a smile on your face." She reached out to touch his cheek and lift his face up. "The woman who makes your last night on Capella a special one."

"You have already done that, Yumi."

"You know what I mean, Ezra. ... I suppose you know how to make a woman happy?"

"No man knows that, Yumi, but if you are referring to sex, then my ... er ... equipment was still working last time I used it."

"Well, come on then, Ezra, you've hired me and its time I did what I was paid for."

"Don't joke like that, Yumi, please?"

"You're too much of a gentleman, Ezra. I see I'm going to have to seduce you."

For the third time that evening, Yumi was a different woman. Nothing of the restrained and introverted girl in the bar remained. Even as Ezra's animated companion in the exercise hall, Yumi had not been as gay as she was now. Her naturally joyful soul revealed itself in her attempts to tease and seduce him. She slinked around the cabin, trying to sit on his lap and to kiss him, while he fended her off with his arms.


Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 01



"Calm down, Yumi, you're not yourself."

"But I am, Ezra, finally."

This was true, despite what Yumi had originally planned for that evening, here and now she knew exactly what she wanted. The happiness she felt was genuine.

In the end, it was not hard for Yumi to seduce Ezra. As soon as she laid a good kiss on him, he gave up trying to defend himself and kissed her back. She sat forward in his lap, her legs spread, holding Ezra's head in her hands. They kissed with genuine passion.

Ezra put his arms around her thin waist and, as his ardour grew, moved his hands under Yumi's short skirt and gently fondled her bottom. Yumi made encouraging noises and started to undo Ezra's shirt, still holding the kiss, their tongues flicking together. Ezra helped Yumi take his shirt off and she ran her tiny delicate hands over his chest and shoulders, at last breaking their kiss to bend down and flick her tongue on his neck.

It was not easy making love on a bucket seat, so Ezra picked Yumi up, kicked the chair out of the way and gave the computer the command to bring the bed out from a side panel. Metal legs unfolded, springs extended and a mattress inflated. Quickly a good-sized bed had erected itself in the middle of the cabin.

Ezra laid Yumi down and helped her take off her top and wriggle out of her skirt. Yumi made to take off her bra and skimpy white knickers but Ezra said: "No, Yumi, keep them on for the moment. They're sexy."

Pleased with the compliment, Yumi laid back on the mattress and pulled Ezra down onto her. They kissed again, deeply, Yumi darting out her tongue into Ezra's mouth like a hummingbird sipping at a nectary. Slowly, Ezra roamed his hands over his pretty seducer, while she gripped his shoulders and dug her heels into the back of his thighs.

His hands under her bra, squeezing and kneading her small round breasts, Ezra's excitement built, which Yumi felt in the heat of his hard cock pressed against her thigh. She lifted her legs higher, resting her heels in the small of his back.

"You're beautiful, Yumi," he said.

"I'm not," she protested, shaking her head, "my breasts are too small."

"They're perfect," Ezra said, "I'll prove it." Ezra kissed along Yumi's chin to her neck, then down to her breasts, pushing her bra down her chest. Her breasts were pert and round with brown pyramid-shaped nipples.

He enveloped a tit in his mouth and gave it a good suck. She gasped, shutting her eyes.

"See," Ezra said, "exactly the right size: not a millimetre of waste."

Yumi laughed again.

Ezra licked her nipples and sucked her breasts, loving her taste and her sweet moans. More and more urgently he kissed her, moving from lips, to neck, to tits, to ribs and belly and back again, as Yumi moaned with her eyes tight shut, arching her back, pushing her breasts up at him, her legs crossed tightly over his back, her fingers grasping his shoulders.

Her brain began to fog as Yumi surrendered herself to Ezra's desires. She felt heat in her pussy and hoped Ezra would touch her there next. He must have read her mind. Slipping a hand inside her knickers, he began to finger her pussy, rubbing a gentle figure-of-eight pattern on her clitoris while Yumi moaned encouragement, then dipping gently into her damp cleft and back to her clit, over and again.

Yumi moaned louder and more urgently. She began to buck, greedily trying to envelop Ezra's probing finger.

Now he kissed his way further down her body, concentrating for a minute or two on the curve of her belly before pushing her knickers down with his free hand and placing his hot tongue on Yumi's clitoris. She squirmed but spread her legs and raised her knees, her hands clasping Ezra's hair as he licked and sucked at her clit. The pink cloud in Yumi's mind was riven by streaks of white lightning as Ezra's tongue caressed her erotic nub, his penetrating finger flicking over the rough patch inside her vagina.

Her breath began to catch. Again, Ezra read her well and began to piston his middle finger in and out of Yumi's narrow slit, licking faster at her clit, squeezing a breast with his other hand. He made sure he caught the rough spongy patch in her vagina with his finger every time he thrust it into her and so, after two minutes of this treatment, Yumi stiffened and arched her back further. Ezra raised his head from Yumi's lap when he felt the first pressure of her spasm on his hand. He wanted to see her face in ecstasy. Yumi's mouth was wide open but no sound came out.

Ezra held his hand against her pussy and rubbed her special spot inside with his finger tip, flicking his thumb over her clitoris. The tension broke. Yumi gasped, was silent and breathed again as she convulsed, her pussy tightening about Ezra's finger, forming a soft cushioned wall to its entrance. Yumi's legs shook and she let out an elated scream, shaking her head from side to side.

Ezra gently rubbed Yumi's clitoris as her paroxysm waned and she relaxed. She kept her eyes shut for a few minutes, enjoying a feeling of warmth as the strain left her body, then she opened her eyes to see Ezra staring down at her, a look of quiet joy on his face. When her nerves had quieted enough to talk, she sat herself up and smiled at him.

"Oh, God! Ezra, that was wonderful! Do it again!"

"Don't you know I have needs of my own?" he protested.

"Who cares about your needs when you can do that to me?" Yumi exclaimed, grabbing at his arms. "Please, again!"

Ezra laughed, "All right, once more; but only because the look of ecstasy on your face when you climaxed was one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen."

"Nonsense!" she said, but she lay back, spread her legs wide and, with her hands on his shoulders, pulled him down to her for a kiss.

Ezra pushed her wild hair out of her face and kissed her meaningfully. Then he slowly resuming his finger-fucking. Soon Yumi was transported back to that world of pleasure where her mind clouded over and her voice stuck in her throat. Again, with finger, thumb and tongue, Ezra brought Yumi to a tense and noisy climax. In all, Yumi had three orgasms under Ezra's erotic ministrations before he could hold out no longer. It didn't help that Yumi had taken to rubbing her hand up and down his cock.

Ezra lay on the pretty slim girl and kissed her hard. He tried to position his cock at the lips of her pussy but Yumi had to guide him with her hand to her entrance before Ezra could push his cock in. Yumi's pussy was tight and she moaned loudly with every thrust. Soon she was accommodated to the stretch and began to thrust back in rhythm. She brought her knees up and dug her heels into his back. The bed shook with their exertions, making a rattling squeak to accompany Yumi's girlish squeals and Ezra's panting. Yumi's noise was driving Ezra wild. He gripped her shoulders tightly and rammed her harder and faster, his panting became grunts. Yumi's note changed as she ascended to her peak until, at last, they climaxed together, Ezra's throbbing cock pumping semen deep inside Yumi, whose spasm shook her thighs and arched her back.

They lay panting, sweat mingling on intertwined legs and arms, neither able to speak but content to be quiet and warm and fulfilled.

When they had rested and recovered, they made love again, Yumi sucking Ezra's cock to hardness and then riding him slowly to a satisfying mutual orgasm. Now they were satiated but exhausted. They lay side-by-side and whispered and laughed, fondling and kissing until drowsy sleep claimed them both.

Next morning, Ezra woke alone, his cock taut in anticipation of a repeat of the previous night's joys. He called out for Yumi but got no answer. He went in search of her but without success. Eventually, on the bridge, he found a message she had left him on the shipboard computer. It said:

'Dear Ezra,'

'Thank you for a lovely time yesterday. I cannot explain how much it meant to me.'

'Sorry I rushed away before you woke, but I am no good at saying "farewell." I hope you will remember me with fondness, as I will remember you. If you want to see me again, you can contact me at this post-box:: (It was a Kyoto address).'

'I wish you a safe trip.'

'Love from Yumi.'

The letter made Ezra feel much better about his brief affair with Yumi. He decided to contact her if he survived and, after a shower and breakfast, he was still smiling about the previous night's encounter when he checked his clearance with the port authorities and expertly manoeuvred his spaceship out of the dock and away from the spaceport, to get in position for his initial hyperspace jump.



Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 02



Chapter 2 - Ezra crash-lands on Samothea

The power on Ezra's spaceship failed immediately it emerged from its final hyperspace jump. The lights, engines, navigation system and central computer were all down. Ezra was in a dark dead ship travelling in who knew what direction at who knew what speed with no means to arrest his motion.

Suppressing his urge to panic, Ezra punched every button on the piloting console, seeking to regain control, begging the emergency power to come on. At last! The computer display flickered, some buttons lit up and Ezra's ears and eyes were suddenly assaulted by wailing alarms and flashing lights.

After he had cancelled the alarms, Ezra found his hyperspace engines would not come back on, whatever he did.

"It's no real problem for the moment," he encouraged himself, pressing buttons and waiting for the response, "just so long as I'm not headed toward anything solid;" but the navigation system gave no reading.

Ezra had already wasted many minutes with the engines; he could not waste time with navi-comms. Cursing his ship and himself, Ezra decided to navigate the old-fashioned way, by looking at the stars.

He slid down the ladder into the forward observation bay, a perspex bubble with an optical telescope. It turned out he didn't need the telescope. When he turned around at the bottom of the ladder, his entire visual field was filled by a blue, white and green planet, Samothea for sure.

"Fuck!" Ezra exclaimed and rushed back to the piloting consol.

"Fuck!" he repeated. Now he knew where he was - in a crippled ship, heading at high speed to a hard and messy impact on a planet only a few hundred miles away.

If his engines would not work, and he could not power up the rocket thrusters, then Ezra knew he was dead.

"Work, damn you! Work!" he repeated like a mantra, punching the control buttons, hoping to awaken some driving power. It was no good. The rocket thrusters were dormant. Ezra tried again. Still nothing. The third, fourth and fifth attempts were also fruitless. Again and again Ezra adjusted dials, pulled levers and thumped switches until, at last! he felt a kick as the starboard rocket lit and began slowly to spin the ship around. Five seconds later the port rocket also ignited. Not powerful enough to escape the gravitational pull of Samothea, Ezra could use the manoeuvring rockets to slow his descent and possibly come to a safe landing.

After three good burns on the rockets, Ezra had slowed considerably and, from the smoothness of his trajectory, judged he was still above Samothea's atmosphere. He made another long burn and rested the rocket motors again for a few seconds. Now the buffeting began. He had breached the atmosphere and was slowing down even more but the ship was harder to control. A half-minute burn and the ship was hurtling through clouds, maybe five miles from impact. Ezra prayed the clouds would not descend all the way to the surface and, to back up his prayers, risked a longer burn on the rockets.

The clouds dispersed to reveal a blue-green ocean with a coastline about ten miles to the East. He was descending under control with half burn on the rockets, hoping they would last long enough for him to touchdown on land rather than crash into the sea.

With about two miles to fall and six miles to the shore, Ezra steered his craft steeply in, slowing under power as much as he could. It seemed to be working. She was gliding gently. In another minute, he was at two thousand feet and a mile from the shore. A good final spurt on the rockets and it looked like she would make a gentle touchdown, right on the beach.

Ezra slapped the piloting console a last time and shouted in relief.

"You beauty, I knew you wouldn't let me down!"

It was the wrong thing to say, of course. A second later the over-heated starboard motor coughed and gave up, the ship turned on one side and fell spinning out of the sky. It hit the sea hard, throwing Ezra sideways against the rear of the bridge, where his head hit a spar. He passed out.

The ship floated for ten minutes before it began to sink. Water was pouring into the bridge. It woke Ezra, who felt excruciating pain in his left arm when he tried to push himself up. There was blood on his shirt and he felt light-headed; but he knew that, if he wanted to live, he must get out of the flooding ship. Drowsy and weak, nursing his arm, Ezra sloshed his way to the airlock and grabbed at the escape lever. The mechanism worked and the hatch opened, letting in more water and pushing Ezra out with a bubble of air.

He swam one-handed toward the beach, which was only a hundred yards away but took a lifetime and all his energy to reach. Forcing himself to go on, he felt relief when his feet touched the sandy sea-bottom, after which he half-swam and half-scrambled onto the shore, where he fainted again from exhaustion, pain and blood loss.

Some hours later, while Ezra was lying on his side in the surf, he was woken by hands gently lifting him, pulling him up the beach. He screamed in pain as someone pulled his left arm. The pairs of hands shifted to his shoulders. A minute later, he was lying on his back, the low morning sun on his face, his rescuers kneeling beside him.

They were two girls: a skinny wraith, who looked to Ezra about ten years old, and a more substantial girl who on Earth would have been about thirteen. The wraith offered Ezra a bladder of water, which he gratefully accepted but he found he could not drink it lying flat. The older girl knelt behind him and helped him sit up. Ezra greedily drained the bladder. The bigger girl pushed her backpack behind Ezra and gently helped him lie down again. He tried to say 'Thank you' but fainted again.

Next time he awoke, the skinny girl had been talking to him.

"Uh, sorry. I didn't catch that," he said.

"I said, my name is Tamar, Madam. What's yours?"

"Um, Ezra, Ezra Goldrick."

Ezra was feeling stronger, though he ached all over. His left arm hurt like hell and the bright sun was in his eyes, but he was alive.

"Thank you both for rescuing me. Am I on Samothea?

"You are, Ezra. How did you get here? Why were you in the sea?"

"I crash-landed here last night or this morning. My ship is on the sea-floor somewhere over there," Ezra said, indicating the sea with his good arm.

Tamar stared out to sea but the older girl grunted at her. She turned back to Ezra.

"What kind of ship?"

"A space-ship."

"Oh!" Tamar said, addressing the older girl, "You were right."

"What is your friend's name?" Ezra asked.

Tamar started to speak but the other girl shushed her.

"It's OK," Tamar assured her. "I wasn't going to say." To Ezra she said:

"My friend doesn't use her name. I talk for her."

In fact, Ezra had only heard the older girl grunt or hiss, never speak words. If this was strange, Ezra was too tired to wonder at it.

He took a good look at his rescuers. Tamar, the skinny wraith, wore a cotton slip under a woollen cloak, tied around her waist with a coil of rope. The other girl was dressed in raggedy trousers, shirt and jacket, a mixture of cloth, leather and clearly ancient synthetics. Both girls had leather sandals, tied by straps to their ankles and calves. The older girl had a large and fierce-looking hunting knife in a holster strapped to her thigh. They both had substantial backpacks.

Tamar was amazingly pretty to Ezra: coltish, with long straight blond hair and large brown eyes. The other girl was taller and more athletic, with curly black hair and captivating light green eyes. She was tanned where Tamar was fair.

"What's wrong with your arm, Madam?" Tamar asked.

"I think it's broken. Anyway, it hurts like blazes every time I try to move it."

"What's a 'blazes'?"

"I mean it hurts a lot."

"Oh! Can you walk? We need to leave this place. This is Mariner territory but they can't keep the Herders away and if the Herders catch us, then we will all hurt like blazes."

"I can walk, but I'm very tired. Will we go far?"

Tamar and her friend consulted in whispers and grunts.

"We're taking you to the forest. It's on our way and the Woodlanders there probably won't kill you. It is quite far, Madam."

"Well, I'm in your hands," Ezra said, stoically. He struggled to get up and did so only with the help of the girls. "Meanwhile, Tamar, can I ask you a question?"

She nodded.

"Why do you call me 'Madam'?"

Tamar was puzzled. "What else should I call you?"

However, her friend made a snorting kind of laugh and pointed to Ezra's groin. Tamar said, "I don't know what you mean," but her friend laughed again and mimicked an action. Before he could prevent the girl, Tamar had pulled Ezra's trousers down and seen at first hand that he was a man.

Embarrassed, Ezra endured a painful moment pulling his trousers back up one-handed but neither girl was the least ashamed.

"What are you doing?" he exclaimed. "Haven't you ever seen a man before?"

"No," Tamar answered with simple honesty. She stared earnestly at him, delighted to learn something new. "I read about men in a book once but I've never seen one before. Where are you from?"

"Earth," Ezra answered automatically while he tried to digest what Tamar had said. What did she mean that she had never seen a man before?

"What about you," Ezra asked the bigger girl, "Have you never seen a man before, either?"

She shook her head.

"Please explain?" Ezra asked. "Are there no men at all on Samothea?"

"None that we know of," Tamar assured him. Her friend nodded in agreement but then grunted to Tamar, who understood her with seemingly psychic power.

"We must go, Ezra Goldrick. We'll answer your questions and you can answer ours when we stop for a rest but we must leave now."

Propped up at first by the older girl, whose strength he was learning to admire, Ezra managed to walk at a reasonable pace up the beach and onto the patchy grass that gradually gave way to a well-watered prairie. The grass stretched an unguessable distance ahead of them to a band of grey-green forest framed above by white-capped peaks of a distant mountain-range. Behind them was the shimmering blue-green sea. A heat-haze blurred the view left and right, suggesting the prairie stretched out forever.

Many wayward streams ran gently to the beach dividing the grassland into irregular strips of lush meadow and muddy puddle. Tracks worn by cattle and horses showed where the feared Herders came and went. Both girls kept a look-out as they walked. Once they stopped and crouched down near some fresh dung but soon the older girl gave the 'all-clear' and they were on the move again.

Ezra had little strength for talking. He resolved to keep his head down and plod on until he could do no more.

After a few hours walking, they stopped by a small clear stream, where the girls filled their water bladders and Ezra knelt down to submerge his over-heated head in the cool sweet water. It was a delightful relief but he needed the bigger girl to help him up again.

They rested there for ten-minutes. The girls sat cross-legged on the ground, while Ezra was propped up against a clump of pampas grass. The older girl pulled a long strip of dried meat from a leather pouch in her sack, cut it into pieces with expert swipes of her hunting knife, and passed the pieces around. Seeing the girls had such measly rations, Ezra tried to refuse the food but they insisted he eat and, because he was painfully hungry, Ezra gratefully accepted. The meat was strongly flavoured, salty and hard to chew but seemed nourishing. Soon Ezra felt he had enough strength to ask some of the questions that burned in him.

"Tamar, how come all the people here are women?" he said.

"We're all clones," she answered. "Every so often, someone goes to the Cloner City and comes back with a daughter. She always has a daughter. At least, that's what everyone says. I've never seen the Cloner City. I will someday, after I've visited the mountains."

"Clones! Of course!"

Ezra knew the terraforming engineers built laboratories to clone animals for release into the wild. After whatever catastrophe had interrupted communications between Samothea and the rest of the galaxy, maybe something caused the engineers to start cloning themselves.

"Why are you going to the mountains?"

"To see the Miners," Tamar answered. "I was a Miner but the Herders snatched me, then, er ... my friend rescued me and now we're going to the mountains to find my family."

At this, the older girl shushed Tamar, but she replied, "It can't hurt. She - I mean he - is an Earther. He won't tell the Herders. Anyway, they'll probably kill him first."

The bigger girl snorted as she had done before at Tamar's naivety, which the younger girl ignored this time.

The sun was now high in the sky and Ezra was feeling it strongly. He was exhausted but he wanted to get to the forest for the shade.

"Will we make it to the forest today?" The band of trees seemed just as far away now as it had hours ago when they were at the beach.

"No, we will have to settle down before the night-rain comes. We'll probably reach the forest tomorrow."

"Rain?" asked Ezra. It seemed unlikely. They appeared to be in the tropical zone of Samothea and Ezra could see no clouds. In fact, the only clouds Ezra had seen all day were over the sea. "Rain would be very welcome," he said.

"You won't like night-rain, Ezra," Tamar said with youthful sagacity.

Betting to himself she was wrong, Ezra kept silent and they set out again.

Three hours later they stopped again, this time on the forest side of a grassy hillock. Although it was still daylight, Ezra saw the girls were settling down here for the night. They undid their backpacks and spread out two leather sheets, pinning them together through eye-holes with pegs pushed into the earth and the upper sheet formed into a roof with bamboo sticks. Meanwhile, Ezra had a look back at where they had come and the most noticeable thing was that the sea was invisible, entirely obscured by a dense grey cloud.

"I may lose my bet," he wisely admitted.

Having gone a distance away to relieve himself and then wash in the nearby stream, Ezra felt a lot better, despite his fatigue. It was suddenly dusk, as happens in the tropics on Earth.

When Ezra returned to their makeshift camp, Tamar held a flap of the tent open for him and he crawled wormlike inside. She followed and climbed unceremoniously over Ezra to lay against him on his good right side. The older girl pulled the flap closed as she came in and did the same, to lie beside Tamar. Because of his height, Ezra's feet were perforce outside one end of the tent. He didn't mind. It was warm inside the tent and Ezra was one who did not like heat.

He decided it was time to ask some more questions.

"Tamar, how old are you?"

"Fourteen, Ezra."

"And your friend?"

"She's seventeen."

This was amazing. Ezra saw from their clothes that life was hard on Samothea and now he guessed that under-nourishment (combined perhaps with side-effects from cloning) had slowed their development.

"So why can't your friend speak?"

"Of course she can speak!" Tamar said defensively, "she just doesn't like to."

"And you can't tell me her name?"

"She has a precious name. She doesn't want to waste it."

"Well," Ezra asked addressing himself to the older girl, "would you mind if I made up a name for you? I can't constantly be calling you 'Tamar's friend' or 'the other girl'."

There was an indecipherable grunt in response, which Ezra decided to interpret as "Let me hear your suggestion."

"I propose to call you 'Wildchild'. I think it's fitting. What do you say?"

Tamar was delighted with the name, which even seemed to please Wildchild herself. At any rate, her grunt in reply did not signify disapproval.

Tamar snuggled up close to Ezra and rested her head on his chest, while Wildchild snuggled up to Tamar. It seemed the girls planned to sleep now and save their questions for later. Ezra also tried to sleep. Considering he was so tired, it should have been easy, but he was also getting rather warm due to two hot bodies so close. He pushed his head out of the end of the tent, seeking cooler air now it was night-time. Wildchild noticed and grunted at him to pull his head back in.

"You'll thank her later," Tamar assured him before snuggling back down on his chest, her arm over his shoulder.

Willing to be guided by such expert survivors, Ezra quietly obeyed. In fact, he had noticed the air was cooler and that a strong wind was pushing on the side of the tent. It seemed to be coming from the sea.

Then the rain began. The tent sagged and the temperature fell noticeably. Ezra put his hand against the tent roof and was surprised at how cold it was.

The girls snuggled even closer as the icy rain battered the leather sheet over their heads and dribbled down the tent flap onto Ezra's shoes. He could feel the cold on his feet. Ezra manoeuvred his good arm to hold the girls protectively to him. Although his mind was still buzzing with unasked questions - such as 'Who were the Herders, Miners, Mariners, Woodlanders and Cloners?' - exhaustion was even stronger than curiosity. Despite a background of drumming hail, Ezra slept.

***********

At the same time that an exhausted Ezra shared a tent on Samothea with his two young rescuers, his sister, Danielle, was lying on her back in her flat in Cambridge, her back arched, her legs spread, moaning sweetly as her new boyfriend, Roger, sucked at a milky-white breast while his long elegant fingers worked magic on her pussy. The creamy dampness on his hand and the drips between her thighs and down her buttocks onto the bed were eloquent testimony to his patience and her multiple peaks of pleasure. Now she gripped his shoulders as another orgasm struck her and he knew it was time for his own satisfaction.

Danielle sighed as Roger removed his fingers from her pussy and gave a last circling lick to an erect pink nipple before lying full length on her and giving her a kiss while she held him tight with arms and legs, loving the warmth of his body. Her heightened pleasure slowly ebbed away, leaving a warm glow of fulfilment.

Reinvigorated, Danielle guided Roger onto his back and, with a smile on her face, crawled backward down his long thin body to find his cock standing hard upright. Danielle took his cock in her mouth and basted it with her tongue. It was Roger's turn now to lie back and sigh.

She swirled her tongue around the tip of his cock and then licked down one side of the pole and up the other. Encouraged by Roger's heavy breathing, she repeated the sequence, alternating with very lightly rubbing his shaft with her hand. When she had Roger squirming nicely, she swallowed as much of his cock as she could into her mouth, sucking gently.

Danielle's licking and sucking were so teasingly slow and gentle, it drove Roger crazy. He put his hands in her hair and massaged her head as she continued her silky soft blow-job until he could stand it no more.

"Oh God! Danielle, you're wonderful! I, ... I need to finish soon."

Danielle had other plans so she disengaged with a last lick up the side of his cock and a small kiss on the tip, turned around and squatted over him, slowly enveloping his cock in her pussy. Roger had the lovely sight of Danielle's perfect bottom and thin waist. She began to ride him, leaning forward to increase the tension on his cock. She had never done this with him before. He loved it. Slowly and tantalizingly, she brought them both to a satisfying climax.

Afterward, as they lay together side-by-side, Roger said:

"So, apart from amazing sex, why did you invite me over tonight?"

"To open a letter from my brother. Sorry, I got distracted. You don't mind?"

"I don't mind you getting distracted at all if its anything like the last hour but what about Ezra's letter is so special?"




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 02



"Well," She fiddled with her hair. "I have a sort of ritual that I used to perform and I wanted to do it again with you here. But we don't have to. I'm just being silly,"

"Danielle, I'd like to know the ritual."

"Then you shall. You know how secretive Ezra was about his destination this time? Well, he never usually told anyone his plans until his mission had begun. Instead, he would leave the co-ordinates in a letter for me, telling me to wait a month before opening it."

"I would wait, but you won't believe how impatient I was. When 'the day' arrived, I'd get up early and tear open the letter. Then I'd shout the destination to Mum and Dad as I ran to school to search for the co-ordinates on the star-map in the library before lessons."

"Later, Dad bought me a three-dimensional star-projector. I'd set it up, lie on the floor and trace Ezra's trajectory on the ceiling."

Twelve years younger than Ezra, even as a woman of twenty-eight, Danielle still idolized her brother, whose exciting adventures were the delight of her teenage years. Danielle did not tell Roger how much she would fear for Ezra's safety nor how much joy she felt when he returned unharmed. She did however confess that her secret desire had always been one day to go with Ezra.

Tomboyish but pretty as a girl, Danielle grew out of her pigtails and dungarees to discover the joys of make-up, parties and boys. Her dreams of jumping through hyperspace, seeking dangerous planets to tame, likewise evolved into a more reliable career as an astrophysicist studying hyperspace pathways.

She still adored her older brother, of course, but for the three trips he had made since she turned twenty, Danielle had not performed the ritual of tracing his trajectory with the star-projector. Either she had been busy at university, or occupied with a boyfriend, or something else had come up and there was no longer the same frission of excitement. This time, however, something in Ezra's manner persuaded her it was his most significant adventure yet. It seemed appropriate to resurrect the old ritual; and to bring her boyfriend of a few months into the procedure.

Danielle had matured into a beautiful woman. At five feet nine inches, she was an inch below the average for a Caucasian woman of the Anglosphere but she was curvy at a time that (to the immense gratitude of all red-blooded men) curves had at last come back into fashion. Her only concession to artifice in a world of undetectable plastic surgery and rejuvenation treatments was to replace her boring straight light-brown hair with exciting wavy platinum blonde hair. In fact, blonde hair suited her large dark-blue eyes and added lustre to her captivating smile, which revealed perfect teeth in a wide mouth.

It was the fifth week after Ezra had kissed his family goodbye and left for Capella. Danielle had waited another week for Roger to return from a trip home to America. Roger was a tall, thin, polite and witty Bostonian. A historian, he liked nothing better than fossicking about in dusty libraries and crumbling castles. Studying in England suited him perfectly and a Cambridge fellowship seemed a likely prospect. It's hard to explain why Danielle also suited him perfectly; nor why Roger suited her, but they made an interesting combination. A thoughtful intellectual, Roger could admire Danielle for her brains not only for her desirable figure and buoyant breasts.

Though there were deep leather armchairs and a long settee to sit on, the young couple lay on the thick-piled rug in front of simulated wood microwave fire. Danielle poured some wine, they clinked glasses and drank to Ezra's good fortune, then she opened her letter and exclaimed. There were no co-ordinates but just one word: "Samothea".

"Cornwall?" asked Roger, putting his glass down.

"Cornwall!" she repeated, turning to look at him, "What do you mean, Cornwall?"

"I mean Samothea is an old name for Cornwall. Why has Ezra spent all his money trying to rediscover Cornwall?"

"Idiot! Trust me to fall for a historian who knows nothing about the contemporary world."

"Fallen, have you?" he asked, pulling her toward him for a kiss.

"Only morally."

She held the kiss for a minute, then pushed him away.

"Now hands off me while I call my parents. You can look up Samothea on the computer." Roger obeyed, sitting down on the couch and picking up a hand-screen.

Danielle put on her robe, sat next to Roger and called down the large viewing screen. She told the house computer to place a video-call to Mr. and Mrs. Goldrick who were presently in Perth, Australia.

Mariotta Goldrick sat in front of the make-up mirror in her bedroom. A society beauty in her youth, thanks to two rejuvenation treatments, she was still a ravishing woman. At age 70, she looked 40. When she accepted the call and switched her dressing-table mirror to a viewing screen, Mariotta was stark naked, proudly displaying to Danielle and Roger two of the most glorious breasts in the galaxy.

"Hi, Honey!" Mariotta said, waving gaily. "Hi Roger!"

"Mother! Why the hell are you naked? Put some clothes on at once!"

Danielle switched off the video signal. Mariotta's screen went blank.

"Oops, sorry! I didn't think Roger would mind."

Roger looked down at his screen and tried not to drool.

"Roger doesn't mind at all, Mother; I do," Danielle insisted through clenched teeth. "Really, Mum, you do the damnedest things sometimes. Are you decent yet?"

"Quite decent, Dear." She had flung a dressing gown over her shoulders. "You can turn the picture thingy back on."

Danielle did so.

"So have you two love-birds been making me a grandchild?"

"Mother, can you be any more embarrassing?"

"Now don't be prudish, Dear. You know that I can't rely on Ezra giving me grandchildren, jetting off alone as he does to distant regions. How many children is Ezra likely to sire on his latest adventure?"

"About that, Mum," Danielle quickly interjected, seizing her opportunity, "he's gone to Samothea."

"Who has, Dear?"

"Ezra, of course."

"Really, Darling? That explains why he wanted to borrow so much money from us."

"Aren't you at all worried? You know how unsafe it must be to prospect Samothea; how far away it is; how no one has ever returned?"

"Now, Sweetie, there's no need to worry. Ezra knows what he's about."

And that was that. Danielle could get no more solicitude for Ezra from her mother who, for all her scatty conversation, was a sanguine woman, not given to exaggerated fears.

"Give my love to Dad, please," Danielle said resignedly. "I'll bring Roger to see you in a fortnight. Love you."

"Love you too, Dear. Now make me some babies!"

"Mother!" Danielle's final protest was half-hearted. She told the computer to end the call.

"You don't mind my mother, do you?" she asked Roger.

"Of course not, Darling. She's got presence. I like her. Now, how about your ritual?"

"Very well." She kissed him. "Here goes."

Danielle fetched some cushions, shut off the remaining lights and called up the projector, which immediately showed an image of the galaxy on the ceiling. They lay down on the rug again to enjoy the view, resting their heads on the cushions.

"Computer, start at Earth," Danielle ordered, and the galaxy wheeled a few degrees, turned sideways and flew toward them, stopping on the outer edge of one of the spiral arms, where a small blue and white planet circled a yellow sun. The constellations were familiar.

"Now find Capella space-station."

The stars shifted a few inches and the focus zoomed in on the constellation Auriga before settling on a system of four stars, a large bright yellow pair and a small dull red pair. A blue circle indicated where the space-station was, in interstellar space two light-years from the Capella system.

"Now, computer, take us to Samothea in, er, ten hyperspace jumps."

The inner rim of the spiral arm hurtled toward them. The scene faded and shimmered, then the stars rushed at them again. This happened nine more times. There were more stars when they passed through the middle of the spiral arm and fewer stars again when they approached the locality of Samothea. The star-projector stopped at a cluster of about forty stars, with a small yellow one in the middle.

"That is Samothea's sun," Danielle announced.

"Why has the projector stopped zooming in? Can't we see Samothea itself?"

"Unfortunately, there is no up-to-date map of the Samothean system. We are about thirty light-years away. That blue ring indicates where the planet should be."

"When you told me the star-projector updates in real time, I assumed the map would project the galaxy as it is today."

"How can it, Roger? Samothea is two-thousand light-years away, so a telescope on Earth (assuming we had a clear view) would see Samothea two-thousand years ago. The reason the map is more up-to-date than that is because we send sensor probes out through hyperspace to take readings, then they jump back to transmit the results. It looks like the nearest a recent sensor probe has been to Samothea and successfully come back is thirty light-years."

"So how old is the data we are viewing now?"

Danielle told the computer to reveal the data sources.

"About seventy years, so we are looking at Samothea itself about 100 years ago, about 20 years after it was first prospected. I guess this image came from a probe sent to find out what happened to the original colonizing mission. It must have travelled by incremental jumps there and back and though it was still working thirty light-years away, it got lost or damaged when it jumped closer."

"I see: that means the map won't ever be more accurate unless we send a new probe," Roger said.

"Well, not exactly. Suppose the probe jumped to just ten light years from Samothea and then tried to jump back but missed its target and transmitted to Earth from, say, 70 light years away. A more recent image, from 90 years ago, will be getting here just about now."

"Is that likely?"

"Well, it's not unlikely when hyperspace pathways are upset by cosmic events."

"Such as?"

"Such as a supernova or stars colliding. Also, navi-comms systems can be fried by x-rays from a black hole swallowing a star."

"Might something like that have happened near the Samothean solar-system? Is Ezra at real risk? Do you think Mariotta should be more worried about him?"

"No, she's probably right. Ezra would have researched the dangers thoroughly and will proceed with caution. He never takes anything but calculated risks."

"And you don't regret not becoming a prospector and going with him?"

"No. ... Well, ... sometimes I do. But I find my work interesting and difficult, so it's really worthwhile. If I can find safe and fast hyperspace pathways across the galaxy, it opens up entire worlds for colonizing or resources to exploit. It benefits mankind like nothing before in history!"

Danielle was wonderfully animated when talking to Roger about her work. She had sat up to explain but now settled down again on her back and he leaned over her to admire her flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes.

"Well, I hope Ezra gets back safely. His sister is very dear to me."

"I'm sure he will - and though I am not quite sure if we should be making babies just for my mother's sake, I don't mind keeping in practise, in case we should want to start."

"Hmm!" Roger replied, "That's an invitation I cannot resist."

As they made love under the stars, the star-map did update itself. A small white star about five light-years from Samothea blinked a few times and then went out, leaving a misty halo that was illuminated by occasional flashes of light. If they had been watching closely, they would have seen the halo expand quickly from the spot where the star had been and gradually grow dark as it expanded.

***********

Ezra woke startled because of a strange weight on his chest. He tried to shake it off, moving his bad left arm and cried out in pain. Tamar and Wildchild, who had been using Ezra as a pillow, jumped up.

"What is it Ezra?" Tamar asked.

"Nothing. Sorry. I forgot where I was. Sorry I woke you two. ... Is it too early to get up?"

Wildchild opened the tent flap and looked out. The sunrise was a yellow halo above the forest. She grunted to Tamar.

"Wildchild says we should get going. Can we help you up?"

"Thanks" Ezra said and struggled, with the girls' help, out of the tent and onto his feet.

The ground was damp and the air was cool as they continued their trek to the forest, chewing more dried meat for breakfast. Mist clung to the ground and clouded a small valley, whose stream they waded across. When Wildchild stopped to delve on the stream-bed for pebbles, Ezra also stopped. He had glimpsed the blue-green flash of a kingfisher darting from bank to bank further upstream. It was the first bird he had seen on Samothea.

"Did you see the kingfisher?" he asked.

"Yes. She's beautiful, isn't she?" Tamar answered.

"Are there many birds?"

"Lots in the forest, few on the plain and none by the sea. Is it the same on Earth?"

"No. On Earth, there are birds everywhere, even in the cities. Some live out at sea and rarely come to land. Also some people keep birds as pets."

"I'd like to see an Earth city. Are they bigger than the Cloner City?"

"How many people live in the Cloner City?"

"I don't know. Maybe forty." It was the largest concentration of people Tamar could imagine.

"Then, yes, Earth cities are much bigger."

The land began to rise out of the grassy plain to the forest through scrubland, low bushes and the occasional lone tree. Even before they left the plain there were meadow flowers, which attracted legions of humming bees, and stands of marsh mallow, fennel and sunflower. The girls plucked leaves and seeds. Some they shared with Ezra and chewed as they walked; others they stashed away in a leather bag.

It was a long time since they had seen any tracks of horse or cattle, so the girls were less wary about being seen but would stand on hillocks and take a good look around to see if there were any plants worth foraging. Occasionally Wildchild would give a whoop and run down from her vantage point to dig out a tuber, bringing it back to Tamar and Ezra with a wide grin.

Happy as he was for food, Ezra more strongly welcomed Wildchild's next offering. Passing by a small thin tree, one of the forest outliers, he asked to borrow her knife. She refused but, understanding well, hacked small new branches off and fashioned them a splint which she tied together with a creeping vine and hung around his neck to support his arm. He thanked her with a kiss on the forehead that made Wildchild look at him with new eyes.

Even though he was exhausted, especially since the walking got harder as the land rose, yet there were things Ezra sorely wanted to know.

"Tamar, please tell me about the tribes."

"Well, the Herders live in the plain," she said. "They ride horses and keep cattle. I can ride but I never had my own horse. You have to be adult for that. They also pasture sheep on the Southern Mountains. There are twenty-four Herders."

"The Woodlanders live in the forest and eat mushrooms and berries. They are kindly folk and good at medicine. I don't know how many there are because they don't come to the trading place."

"The Mariners live by the sea and have lots of fish. I like fish but I like beef better. I think there are about twenty Mariners. They can all swim. I can't swim, nor can Wildchild, but we've been in the sea many times, just to splash."

"The Cloners and the Herders like each other because cattle and sheep don't breed themselves, so the Herders take stuff they trade to the Cloner City and bring back new cows, sheep and horses. Some Cloners are Farmers who grow fruit and corn. They are very rich."

"And the Miners live in the White Mountains to the East, where we are going."

"You said you were a Miner," Ezra said, "but you lived with the Herders. What happened?"

"I've only known I am a Miner for two weeks, though it was a few years ago that I realised I wasn't a Herder."

"How did you realise you weren't a Herder?"

Tamar looked quizzically at Ezra, her large brown eyes wider than usual.

"Of course!" he ejaculated. "You're all clones! There was no Herder woman who looked like you."

Tamar nodded.

"But might not your mother have, er, died?" he asked softly.

"I considered that, so I asked Wildchild. She told me none but very old Herders had died since she has known me. Then I asked some more people and I found out the story."

"Tell me," Ezra said.

"Well, some Herders once rode to the White Mountains checking a rumour about wild cattle. At the White Mountains, they met some Miners, got into an argument and snatched me from my mother. I was a baby and don't remember it at all."

"Why would someone snatch you just because of a fight?"

"All grown women want babies, Ezra. It's almost all they think about. It makes them do strange things when they can't have one."

"I didn't know that, Tamar. Things are very different on Earth. There, churches spend lots of money encouraging women to have children."

"What's a church?"

"A religious institution." Both girls looked blank. "I'll explain later. Tell me how you and Wildchild ran away from the Herders."

Wildchild had remained silent all this time but gave a warning hiss to Tamar. "Ezra is our friend now," Tamar replied.

If Wildchild was not mollified, yet she made no further objection.

"We did a clever thing. The tribe visits the pastures on the Southern Mountains for a month at a time, so Wildchild and I collected provisions for the journey and made our escape in the first week. We left in the middle of the night, during the rain, and headed South, over the mountain."

"They probably thought we ran East into the forest because horses could not easily follow us there but we hid in caves on the South side of the mountain and then headed West to the ocean. Then we walked North along the beach in the shadow of the cliff where we can't be seen from the plain."

"That was until the cliff disappeared, but we were five days away by then. And the next day we saw you, lying in the sea."

"You girls are remarkable." Ezra was genuinely impressed with their cunning and fortitude.

"So how long do you think it will take to get to the White Mountains?"

"I don't know because we are going the long way through the forest, but there is plenty of foraging, so it doesn't matter."

Ezra admired the skinny but plucky girl even more. Her cheerful optimism rubbed off on him, who had been feeling exhausted walking a mere twenty miles or so from the beach. Now he needed to think about what Tamar had told him and asked no more questions until they stopped to rest for lunch.

They entered the forest in mid-afternoon and immediately felt the benefit of the shade. The air was more humid and not much cooler, but it was a relief to be out of the direct sun. Wildchild and Tamar could forage even more successfully here and neither kept to the path for long if there was a bush or tree to pluck of its fruit and berries. Ezra was required to pick the higher fruits to save the girls climbing and soon their bags were bulging and heavy with provisions.

About a mile into the forest, they came upon a track that seemed to be made by people. It ran North-South and, if they chose the right direction, might lead them to the Woodlander camp. Wildchild studied foot-marks in the damp Earth and the direction of broken leaves of ferns and trampled flowers. She showed the evidence to Tamar and finally decided that North was the better direction.

Even before reaching the Woodlander Camp, the travellers were alerted to the presence of other people in the forest. Since entering the woods, they had heard the 'coo-coo-kuk' of pigeons high in the forest canopy. Wildchild had taken a sling-shot out of her bag and grabbed a handful of the pebbles she collected from the stream, but the birds were always too high to waste her efforts on. Now something made a flock wheel about and settle in an open space just ahead of the three of them. Tamar and Wildchild kept low and ran silently forward, trying not to startle the birds, but there was a commotion in the flock and the birds began to scatter toward nearby branches.




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 02



They heard a 'twang' and a thump. Two birds fell out of the sky, transfixed by arrows.

One bird lay in the clearing ten yards in front of Tamar, who looked from behind a large fern to try to see who had shot the arrow. A girl ran up to the fallen pigeon. She was holding the other pigeon with the arrow still embedded. She bent to pick up the second bird when Tamar stepped out of her cover and said:

"Hello, Miss Woodlander."

The girl shot up, looking fearful. She glanced over her shoulder, prepared to run away when two older women joined her. They held bows and, seeing Tamar, loaded their arrows but did not take aim.

"Who are you, child?" It was the older one who spoke, a muscular black woman in a grey cotton cloak and a green peaked cap.

"My name is Tamar."

"Are you alone?"

"No, I'm with two friends, Madam."

"You have friends? Where are they? Show yourselves!" she demanded loudly.

The wind or an animal rustled a bush behind Tamar but no one appeared.

The women trained their arrows on the bush.

"Madam, we are no danger to you," Tamar assured them. "Wildchild and I just want to pass peacefully through the forest. Our companion, Ezra, is hurt and needs medicine."

"If that's true, tell your friends to show themselves."

The young Woodlander girl had taken refuge behind the two armed women and, behind her, Tamar saw a familiar shape. She turned to address the bush:

"Wildchild, I think we're safe, you can come out."

The archers aimed their weapons on the bush and pulled the strings back. There was a whistle from behind them. All three span around to see Wildchild standing with her arms akimbo, the hunting knife safely in its holster. Clearly she did not think they were a threat to her. They proved she was right when they lowered their bows.

At that moment, Ezra caught up with his companions, not knowing what had passed. He pushed through the ferns, calling out "Tamar, Wildchild?"

The Woodlanders watched in wonder as an actual man emerged from the forest into the dappled light of the glade. Ezra was clearly a man, even the Woodlander girl could see that. He was taller than any woman they had ever seen. His hair (though longer than he normally wore it) did not reach his shoulders and he had two days' growth of beard.

"Oh! Hello," Ezra said. "I'm Ezra. You must be Woodlanders."

There was no answer. The miracle of finding a man rendered them speechless. Ezra looked quizzically at Tamar and Wildchild.

Tamar walked over to Ezra and took his hand. "Will you take us to your camp please?" she asked.

The black woman nodded. Then she found her voice, saying to the young Woodlander girl:

"Carlin, run back to the camp and tell them we're bringing some guests. You don't need to tell them Ezra is a man. They won't believe you, anyway."

"I am Sharne, this is Dagma." She indicated her companion, a short, stocky woman with black hair and, at present, an angry look.

"How did you get here?" Sharne asked Ezra.

"I crash-landed. Wildchild and Tamar rescued me. They brought me here but I am a slow walker at the moment. How far is it to your camp?"

"A few miles, Ezra. I'll help you."

"Thank you."

It was a while before they reached the camp where, alerted by Carlin, some of the tribeswomen had come out to greet their guests. The first ones to see Ezra stopped in silence. Those behind on the narrow path bumped into those in front. The babble stopped when the women at the back also saw Ezra.

"Let us through, please Ladies," Sharne ordered. They cleared a path and Ezra, Wildchild and Tamar saw the Woodlander Camp for the first time.

There was a large open space beside a small stream. Within it was a circle of wooden huts with palm-leaf roofs. Within that was a circle of rough wooden benches; and in the middle of everything was a pile of logs for a large camp-fire. All the wooden huts were about eight feet square, except one, which was twice the size and stood on a wooden platform that extended as a dais into the circle.

On the side of the camp opposite the stream was a meadow in which a scrawny-looking cow chewed contentedly. There was a wooden shelter in one corner of the meadow. Next to the meadow was a fenced off yard with a chicken coop. Here the ground was bare - the result of incessant pecking by a squadron of hens and a cockerel. Further along were cultivated fields of perhaps an acre or more. The stumps of felled trees and clean-cut limbs on living trees indicated the efforts the Woodlanders made to keep the forest from encroaching on their camp.

Despite help from Sharne, Ezra was near collapsing when they reached the camp and he had to take a rest on a bench. The women crowded about him, whispering among themselves or asking Sharne and Dagma questions. No one took much notice of Tamar or Wildchild. Then there was silence. The Woodlander chief, Mirselene, approached. She had waited at her hut for the guests but when they stopped at the bench, she came over to greet them.

Mirselene was a robust, dark-haired and myopic woman, stout and forceful. She was also clearly the mother of Dagma, who had accompanied Ezra back to the camp. Seeing her approach, the women made room, leaving Ezra sitting on the bench with Tamar and Wildchild. Tired as he was, Ezra stood up to meet Mirselene.

"I am Mirselene, chief of the Woodlanders."

Tamar answered for them: "I am Tamar, a Miner. This is Wildchild, once a Herder; and this is Ezra Goldrick, an Earthman."

Mirselene raised her eyebrows at hearing Tamar describe herself as a Miner, and again at hearing the name of her friend, but she asked no questions.

"Tamar, Wildchild, Ezra Goldrick: you are welcome to our camp. There is food and shelter here. Please ask for whatever you need. I see Ezra needs medical help. ... Annela, please come here."

A woman stepped up beside her chief.

"Annela is skilled in medicine," Mirselene explained to Ezra. "She will tend to you."

"Of course, Madam," the woman said.

With concern on her pretty face, Annela invited Ezra to come to her hut. Supported by Wildchild and Tamar, who refused to leave his side, he made it into Annela's hut and sat down on her bed, a bamboo cot with a feather-stuffed mattress. She undid the splint and took a look at his arm. It was swollen and had an ugly purple bruise which was painfully sensitive to her touch. Annela felt his forehead. It was hot and his eyes were sunken. There was dried blood in his hair and down his neck from when the gash on his head had opened again earlier that day. It was seeping a little now, though it did not look dangerous.

"I need to make some ointment," Annela said to the girls. "It will take a few minutes. Would you like to lie down, Ezra, you'll be more comfortable?"

"Yes, I would. Thank you. And thank you girls," he said to Tamar and Wildchild, "you have been very brave and kind."

"Help him lie down while I fetch some ingredients and make the medicine."

The girls helped Ezra lie flat, with a pillow under his head and another to rest his injured arm on. Wildchild took off his boots. Ezra relaxed and shut his eyes. Within seconds he was asleep.

Annela returned ten minutes later and was please to see Ezra was asleep. She smiled reassuringly at the two girls. Annela was a pretty twenty-four-year-old with strawberry blonde hair, perfect legs and a winsome smile. She was sweet, gentle and considerate but there was determination in her makeup as well. She bathed Ezra's head-wound and applied a sticky compound to it. Then she felt all around his arm to find the break. Ezra stirred but did not wake. She applied compound to some long strips of woven material and wrapped them around his arm. Then she reapplied the splint Wildchild had made and rested his arm back on the pillow.

"Ezra seems peaceful. I think we should let him sleep," she said to Tamar and Wildchild. "It's almost dark. I bet you're hungry. Would you like to go to the feast?"

Tamar and Wildchild whispered together.

"We would like to go to the feast," Tamar admitted, "but we don't want to leave Ezra."

"He'll be fine for an hour or two but you can come to the feast to meet everyone and we three will take turns to watch over him. You can bring your dinner back here if you want. If he wakes, we can fetch him some food as well. Agreed?"

"Agreed," Tamar said.

Preparation for the feast had begun at sunset and, because an hour later it would be dark, there was little time to chatter but every woman performed her task with alacrity.

The cooks sat on upturned logs near the fire, each woman cooking a dish or two, while other women helped by tending the fire, fetching ingredients and water or bringing platters and wooden forks and spoons. Pigeons were roasting on wooden spits, potatoes were baking in embers around the edge of the fire, thick vegetable soup was bubbling in a big metal pot, mushrooms, onions and garlic were frying in pans and eggs were poaching.

The feast began without ceremony as soon the food was ready. Feasts usually lasted an hour or two because, at this longitude and height, the ice-rain came in the middle of the night.

Annela brought the girls to the feast just as it began, sitting them down on the bench in front of her hut. She asked her neighbour to make sure Wildchild and Tamar were catered for and explained to the girls that she would leave them for some minutes while she reported Ezra's condition to Mirselene.

Women carried wooden platters to the cooks, who put on a slice of meat, a potato and a spoonful each of three of four vegetables, then they brought their platters to a bench, to sit and eat in front of the fire or talking to a neighbour. Younger women fetched platters for the two oldest matrons, which was more a show of respect than a demand of their infirmity. There was much swapping of places and food-sharing, recommending this or that dish. The buzz of non-stop chatter filled the camp, as friends caught up with what others had done that day.

Annela's neighbour was Erin, mother of Carlin, the timid girl who had been in the hunting party that first met Ezra and the girls. With a gentle push from her mother, Carlin fetched a platter and took it around the cooks until it was full and then shyly approached Tamar, who accepted it gratefully. Tamar immediately shared her platter with Wildchild but pretty soon Carlin was back with a platter for Wildchild. Then she fetched a third for herself and, with an encouraging nod from her mother, sat with the girls on the bench, where they ate silently at first.

Aged fifteen, Carlin was like Tamar, blond and skinny, Carlin's temperament was guarded and diffident, where Tamar was bold and trusting. Having eaten enough, Tamar wanted to talk to Carlin. She wanted to know how they hunted pigeon. Bit-by-bit, Tamar got Carlin to explain how the two archers were hidden at the edge of the glade and Carlin herself had crept in to scatter seed on the ground before also hiding. When enough birds had descended onto the corn, Carling rushed out to scatter them, at which point the archers loosed their arrows straight into the bunched flock, increasing their chances of a kill. Usually they brought home ten or a dozen birds from a day's hunting.

After this initial conversation, the girls got on well. Carlin, for one, did not think it was odd that Wildchild never spoke: that was something she could sympathise with.

Sharne and her daughter, Pepi, a lively eight-year-old, sat on the side of the fire opposite the three girls. When Pepi had finished her dinner, Sharne brought her round the fire to introduce her to the Woodlander's new guests. They said 'hello' and then it was time for Sharne to take Pepi to bed. Wishing the girls a peaceful night, she hoped they would stay a long time with the Woodlanders. The other woman of the hunting party, Dagma, did not approach the girls and did not speak to them. There seemed no reason for it but it did not bother Tamar and Wildchild, who had enough to think about anyway.

Annela and Mirselene now arrived at the feast. Mirselene at first checked that her guests were well fed and comfortable, then she made a circuit of the feasting tribeswomen, discussing the problems and successes of the day. Satisfied, she took a platter to a comfortable bamboo armchair and table on her dais and invited her daughter, Dagma, to join her. There she cast a benignant eye over the feast, interfering only when some women wanted to take out drums to sing and dance. This was a common way to end the feast but Mirselene forbad it on the grounds that it would disturb Ezra, who was sleeping.

It was Wildchild who left the feast to go and sit with Ezra. Seeing Tamar and Carlin getting on so well, she gestured to her friend, received a nod in return and took her platter into Annela's hut. Annela herself sat next to Erin and they chatted. The main topic for everyone was, of course, that there was a man on Samothea. The value of a man on a planet occupied only by women, whose reproduction took place only by cloning, was enormous. Mirselene had said as much to Annela in their brief discussion and was now putting her thoughts to Dagma. Pretty soon, the whole Woodlander tribe would have to make a decision regarding Ezra.

As the fire lit the faces of the animated tribeswomen, making the forest beyond the clearing look even blacker by contrast, the interminable discussion of the amazing event of that day had to be brought to a close as the wind lifted and the first drops of night rain began falling onto the camp. The women quickly abandoned the feast, saving the uneaten food, leaving the platters out to be cleaned by the rain and retreated in pairs or threes to their huts. Annela claimed Tamar for her hut and, once inside, lay down blankets and pillows so the three of them could sleep on the floor.

Ezra had not woken.

The central fire was left to be doused by the rain. It spluttered and hissed and finally went out. Then the peace of the forest was disturbed only by the snores of a few Woodlanders, of whom the loudest was Mirselene.



Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 03



[Sorry for the delay in submitting this chapter. Life and work got in the way of writing smut. There is lesbian sex in this episode.]

Chapter 3 - Life in the forest

Even before there was enough twilight to see colours in the trees around the sleeping camp, the Woodlanders' cockerel, 'Adam the seventeenth', had climbed to his perch on top of the coop, filled his lungs with cool crisp air and screeched a lusty greeting to the impending dawn.

His raucous haloo echoed off the walls of the huts and the nearby trees. Wildchild, who had been fast asleep, warmly cuddled between Tamar and Annela, woke alarmed, threw off the thread-bare blanket and crouched in a defensive posture, trying to see who was attacking them, groping on the reed mat for her hunting knife. Tamar also sat up, pushing her long hair off her face to rub the sleep out of her eyes.

"What is it, what is it?" she asked.

"Shush girls," Annela reassured them. "there's nothing to fear. It's just our cockerel, Adam,"

"What a horrid noise!" Tamar exclaimed as Adam repeated his call. "Why the blazes do you keep him?"

"Shush," Annela repeated in a whisper, smiling at the archaic word 'blazes' (which she took to be ruder than it was); "Ezra seems to have slept through the racket. Let's go outside. We might as well get up, anyway."

The girls grabbed their clothes and dressed quietly under the awning in front of the hut. Wildchild yawned and stretched while Tamar looked at the activity in the camp.

Though it was still only half-light, many of the women were emerging from their huts, some singly, others in pairs, most walking out of the camp toward the shallow river that flowed lazily in a semi-circle to the north to perform their morning ablutions. Descending the bank to the river's edge, they became shadows in the mist that hung in wisps around the camp.

There were sounds of stirring in the next hut, which belonged to Erin and Carlin. Annela whispered at their door and pretty soon Carlin came out, a shy smile on her shiny morning face.

"Carlin, will you look after Wildchild and Tamar for a while? I have some chores before breakfast."

Carlin nodded.

"Are you hungry?" Annela asked Wildchild and Tamar.

Wildchild shook her head. "No, not yet," said Tamar.

"Very good. Go along with Carlin. She will show you around and bring you back here for breakfast. But don't make much noise. I want Ezra to sleep as long as he can."

Carlin silently beckoned the girls to follow her and soon the three girls were out of sight in the mist as they also headed for the stream.

Women were milling about the camp as Annela fetched Erin and they went together to their morning chore. One of the matrons, Casti by name, carried a basket of seed to the chicken run. She caused havoc among the greedy hens by scattering their food while she pilfered their nests, weighing each of the night's produce in her hand, taking most of the eggs but leaving a couple of the more promising ones to hatch. Another matron was adding dry kindling to the perpetual fire in an ancient iron pot-belly stove. Two younger women hoisted baskets onto their backs and headed out of the camp to forage for mushrooms in the forest.

Dagma, the dumpy young woman who first met Ezra and the girls, marched across the camp to the hut of Sharne and Pepi, carrying two stone axes with long wooden shafts. She scratched on the doorpost and Sharne immediately appeared. They whispered together and Sharne returned inside. Seconds later, she came out, folding a heavy cloak over her shoulders and donning her green peaked cap.

Sharne waved at the matron tending the fire. She was an old black woman, once athletic, now stout, clearly Sharne's mother. She smiled and waved back, gave the fire one last stoke and, walking with a stick, hobbled over to Sharne's hut and went inside to sit with her granddaughter, Pepi, while her daughter and Dagma strode away from the camp into the forest, balancing their axes on their shoulders.

Parvinder, an old Indian woman, sat on a low stool to milk Bessie, the Woodlanders' wizened old cow, who lived contentedly in the meadow and gave little milk. After taking off a few cupfuls in a pan, she went to the iron stove to begin cooking.

Meanwhile, Annela and Erin began their tasks. They shovelled damp ash from the central fire into a heap inside the chicken run. Here, when the sun had burned off the mist and brought a heat-haze down into the forest-clearing, the hens would bathe in the dust, wriggling bottom-first into the pile to stir up the cooler ash beneath.

Afterward, Annela and Erin rebuilt the central fire with dry logs from under the awning of a storage hut. Fifteen minutes later, they had done. 

Annela went quickly back to her hut. She wanted to check on her patient and avoid talking to the women frying up breakfast over the stove, who would pester her with questions about Ezra. She found him still asleep and stood gazing at him for a few minutes.

After taking Tamar and Wildchild to the river to relieve themselves, Carlin led them into the forest. They said hello to the women picking small brown mushrooms in the undergrowth. Their names were Dipti and Urulla. Dipti was an Indian woman in her late twenties; short, very dark and with a round happy face and long straight black hair. Most of the younger Woodlanders were skinny. Dipti was more curvaceous. Urulla was nineteen: tall, pale, brown-haired, thin, flat-chested and serious-looking.

Both women had greeted their guests kindly last night and this morning desired to know how the girls had slept. The story of how they met Ezra had been told and re-told many times around the camp-fire last night yet everyone was eager to hear it again at first-hand; but the girls wanted to be on the move, so Carlin shyly explained she was under instructions to show the girls around. They answered as briefly as they could and trotted off deeper into the forest.

Carlin gave the girls a tour of the nearby forest. All around the camp there was abundant wood to build huts and fences and make the camp-fire. Within a ten-minute walk of the camp were many kinds of berries and nuts, which came into season by no set rhythms and were checked periodically throughout the year. Further away there were fig trees, oranges, lemons and other fruits. Even further away was a stand of banana plants. If one followed the river downstream a couple of miles, then it flowed into a wide lake where ducks could be hunted and reeds cut for basket-weaving. The furthest place the Woodlanders regularly visited in the forest was a small bamboo plantation, where they got canes for roofs and fencing.

Carlin had to explain what ducks were. They were a rare luxury because they were much harder to hunt than pigeons. She also told them the river was too shallow for big fish, so the only fish she had eaten were dried and salted ones bought from the Mariners at the monthly trade.

On their way to see if there were any ripe hazelnuts, they heard the thwack of axes on trees. It was Sharne and Dagma about a quarter-mile away, chopping up logs.

They reached the hazelnut bushes in another five-minutes. The girls had fun gleaning the small brown nuts but they brought no basket or bag and could only put the hazelnuts in their pockets or break them open and eat them. Tamar carried her hazelnuts by folding the bottom of her skirt into a bag. Chewing a few hazelnuts piqued the girls' appetites, however, so when the older girls' pockets were full, they started back to the camp for a proper breakfast.

Mirselene emerged not long after Annela had finished her tasks. She beckoned across the camp to Annela to come and visit her.

"How is our guest?" Mirselene asked when Annela entered the hut.

"He's still asleep," she answered. "Also, I don't think his arm is broken, only badly sprained."

"That is good news. When he wakes, I'll have Parvinder take a look at it."

Annela was not offended by this suggestion: Parvinder was the best nurse in the tribe; but it did raise a question. Before Annela could ask it, however, Mirselene was giving more orders:

"Annela, you need not do your chores if you are busy nursing Ezra. Getting him better takes priority and I'll assign your work to others instead. Also, when Ezra wakes, I want you to bring him to visit me. There are some things I'd like to ask that young man."

"As would the rest of us, Madam. Ezra will not be safe from questioning while he stays with us."

"Understandably so, Annela. I am relying on you to alert me when I need to keep order and not allow him to be oppressed."

"Of course, Madam."

"Very good. So how are our other guests?"

"Very hearty, considering how far they have walked. Carlin is showing them around."

"Good. They interest me. Do they interest you, too?"

"Yes, Madam. I'd like to know why Wildchild doesn't speak. Also, Tamar seems very bright, though I think her education has been a little stunted. She wondered this morning why we keep Adam."

"Hmm. That is a good question."

"Madam?"

Annela did not think it was a good question at all: it was obvious why they needed a cockerel if they want another generation of hens; but she did not press her chief for an answer and Mirselene did not explain. The stout woman was deep in thought but presently she focussed again.

"You might like to give some of your chores to the girls. I intend them to earn their keep."

"Of course, Madam. I'm sure they'll be very keen to do their share."

"Good. I think we're going to enjoy their company. Where will they sleep?"

"Well, they slept with me last night, on the floor. It was comfortable enough, with the blanket."

"No, I don't care for that. Are they making good friends with Carlin?"

Annela nodded.

"Then I'll put them in with Erin. I don't want Ezra's recovery to be impeded."

"Yes, Madam."

Although it was nice having two warm bodies to cuddle, Annela agreed it was a little crowded last night, with a bed big enough for two taken up by one man. Now she waited for Mirselene to speak again but there were no more commands. Instead Mirselene got up saying:

"I smell breakfast!"

Annela headed home, leaving Mirselene at the iron stove where two of the matrons, Parvinder and Casti, were cooking eggs and vegetables.

"Good morning, Ladies," Mirselene said. "That smells good!"

They smiled their greetings in return and attended to their frying pans. Pepi and her grandmother then arrived at the stove for breakfast.

"Good morning, Lenta," Mirselene greeted the ancient woman. "How is our little one today?"

"She's sleepy, Mirselene." Pepi was always a slow riser but she had no problem with her appetite.

Shortly afterward, Carlin and her new friends arrived with their bounty of nuts. Mirselene was pleased to see the girls being so useful and smiled benevolently at them.

"Delicious hazelnuts! Well done!" she exclaimed as the girls emptied the nuts into a basket that Erin brought from the food store. Casti invited the girls to take up their plates for breakfast. Mirselene smiled even more benevolently when Wildchild went to fetch the girls' foraging sacks and offered their provision of berries, fruits and nuts they had gathered yesterday (but not the meat, however, which the girls were saving for their journey).

Back in her hut, Annela waited for the second shift of breakfast, when Sharne and Dagma would arrive back. This gave her time to check up on Ezra and also to set up her hand-loom and a wooden stool. Here she could keep busy with a useful task whole guarding Ezra from prying intrusions.

Of the foragers, Urulla and Dipti were back first with baskets full of mushrooms. The women cooking at the stove selected some to fry and added them to the second round of breakfast. Sharne and Dagma now returned with freshly-cut logs, which they piled under the awning of a storage hut. Annela and Erin joined these four women for breakfast, at which the conversation began about Ezra again; but as there was nothing new to say, the topic quickly drew to a close.

After breakfast, Sharne and Dagma headed out again with their axes and Urulla and Dipti also went off together to cut bananas. Erin took up her tools and set down to weave bamboo cane and reeds into baskets; while Annela got comfortable on her wooden stool in the entrance to her hut, to weave on her hand-loom, shielded from the morning sun by the awning roofed with banana leaves.

No one had any tasks for Carlin, Wildchild and Tamar, so Mirselene allowed them to play, so long as they looked after Pepi and didn't make too much noise. Meanwhile, she retired to her hut to think and plan.

The girls decided on a game of tag, with the rule that no one was to touch the ground. This meant they could jump on the benches, the logs for the evening's fire and the reed mats in front of the huts. A girl would also be 'out' if she made any noise. Needless to say, that rule was not long maintained, especially when, as was inevitable, Pepi, the slowest and least skilful girl, became 'it' and, frustrated by not being able to catch the other girls, laughed wildly as they tempted her by running close and then expertly leaping away. For a small child, Pepi had strong lungs and her raucous laughter resounded about the camp as loudly as Adam's shrill reveille had that morning. The noise the girls made drew Mirselene out of her hut.

"Ahoy, you rapscallions!" she bellowed. "What is the meaning of this commotion?"

The girls stopped in mid-chase and stood still, giggling, all except Pepi, who was bent-over double with hysterics.

"Silence, you pests!" Mirselene repeated, "We have an injured man resting nearby. ... Carlin, if you please?"

Carlin understood. She picked up Pepi and held her close until the laughing girl quietened down.

"It seems I need to inflict discipline on you animals. Tamar, can you read?"

"Yes, Madam, very well."

"Good, then I would like you to help Pepi with her reading. She has her own book and you may choose one to read yourself from my library."

As Tamar would rather read than do anything else, she was delighted and saw nothing but joy in her punishment.

"As for you, Wildchild, I don't suppose you take much interest in literature. I think a more vigorous activity is required."

Mirselene had guessed correctly. Wildchild waited for the decision, her electric green eyes large in her pretty face.

"Can you use a bow, child?"

Wildchild shook her head.

"Good, then I think Carlin should teach you the fundamentals of archery. If you prove yourself adept, then you can join in proper lessons with Sharne. In a fortnight or so, we'll go on a duck-hunt and see what you've learned. What do you say?"

This was nothing at all like a punishment. Wildchild loved any test of skill or strength. She fully intended to be the best archer there could be in a fortnight. In answer, she beamed the widest smile she could.

Tamar and Wildchild exchanged one of their looks that communicated an entire conversation. The prospect of the duck-hunt contained the first suggestion anyone had made about how long they were invited to stay with the Woodlanders. They instantly agreed that they would stay and learn as much as they could about life in the forest. After all, they intended to trek through the forest to the mountains. The more they learned, the easier the trek would be.

Pepi had quietened down now, so Carlin let her go. Though she was not a great reader, Pepi had to obey Mirselene. She knew where her book was and, taking Tamar's hand, led her into Mirselene's hut, to emerge a minute or so later with a large picture-book of farm animals. Of the four other books, Tamar chose an ancient, faded, dog-eared book on Earth's history. They went into Sharne's hut to read, accompanied by admonishing words from Mirselene about treating her precious books with infinite care and not folding the corners or licking a finger to turn pages.

Carlin collected two small practise bows with some arrows and beckoned Wildchild to follow her into the forest.

Quiet now returned to the Woodlander camp.

*  *  *

Although Mirselene had exerted her authority in order to prevent the girls waking Ezra, it was her bellowing reprimands, rather than the laughter of the girls, that shook him from his rest.

It was late in the morning when Ezra surfaced from a long and refreshing sleep. His exhaustion had mostly gone and with it the fever, though he felt a little weak in the legs. Best of all, the sharp pain in his arm had reduced to an easily-managed dull ache.

He swung his legs over the side of the bamboo-frame bed and stood up on the reed mat. The lumpy mattress left him stiff in the back but he was stronger than he had been since the crash-landing. He found his boots and then pushed aside the cloth door-hanging to look out. Annela was sitting in front of the hut, slowly weaving thin bandages from a ball of twine. She tied off her thread and stood to greet him.

The pretty girl had long straight russet-blond hair, an oval face with a straight nose over a bow-shaped mouth with pink lips and a small determined chin. She had a few freckles on her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. Her skin was pale, especially on her neck and collar bones. Her calm pale-blue eyes were wide-set and large. At present, focussed on Ezra, they showed curiosity and compassion.

"I'm glad you're up, Ezra. How are you feeling?"

"Much better, thanks. ... I know you're my doctor but, I'm sorry, I forgot your name."

"It's Annela. ... I expect you're hungry."

"Ravenous."

"I'll fetch you something."

"Thanks; but first I need the loo."

"The what?"

"Toilet, lavatory, john?"

"Oh, the crapper! Here, I'll help you."

She led him out behind the hut toward the stream. Ezra stopped when he saw the 'crapper'. It was a crude bench over a pit dug beside the stream west of the camp, about twenty yards away.

"Is that your toilet? Out in the open? No privacy?" he asked.

Annela did not know why anyone would want privacy. Like most things in the Woodlanders' lives, visiting the crapper was a communal activity; but she wanted to respect Earth customs.

"I'm sorry, Ezra, but that's how we do things. It is sanitary, I promise."

"I'm sure it is. Forgive me, please, Annela? I did not mean to criticise your customs, it's just that we do things differently on Earth."

Ezra's emergence from Annela's hut was noticed and quickly communicated around the camp. Women suspended their tasks and, under the pretext of learning how he was, came to stare at him. How Ezra used a crapper would be as keen a subject of their curiosity as Ezra eating, talking or walking. When Annela realised this, she let him go alone to the stream and stayed to fend off his audience.

"Please, Ladies," Annela pleaded, "It's an earth custom for people to have privacy."

This information caused loud and incredulous comment, which alerted Mirselene. She came out of her hut with determination to demand Ezra not be offended by them. The Woodlanders reluctantly returned to their chores and only tried to sneak glances at Ezra as he struggled one-handedly with his trousers.

Ezra had smelled the crapper from nearby the huts. People using it would squat over some angled boards leading down into the stream, or use the bench for balance or support. There were buckets of water and sponges to wash with. It was clear the effluence should be washed into the stream with water from the buckets, relying on the downstream flow to take it away from the camp.

Some things are the same for men everywhere in the galaxy. One of them is sitting on a crapper and thinking about the world's problems.

Ezra had profound thoughts about how man copes with the loss of modern technology. In the case of Samothea, civilization did not retreat just one or two steps but, in some things, regressed to the stone-age, mitigated by whatever modern technology survived, such as the metallo-plastic buckets, which were built to last.




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 03



He resolved that when his arm was better, he would build an earth-closet for the tribe east of the camp, so the prevailing wind would waft the odour away. This was the least he could do to earn his keep. If he could salvage his laser and plasma tools from his ship, he could build a new crapper in an afternoon; with his digger and bulldozer, he could build a new camp in a week! That was a pipe-dream, however: an earth closet was possible.

When Ezra returned to the camp, he was greeted by his lovely nurse and eight other Woodlanders, led by the commanding presence of Mirselene, their chief.

"Good day, Ezra," Mirselene said. "I hope you have rested well."

"Thank you, Madam," Ezra replied. "I did sleep well. ... I am grateful to you for my lodging and medical treatment," he added, more formally than he intended.

"It is nothing, Ezra," Mirselene said with a smile, "we are happy to have you. Come and meet us all."

The tribeswomen presently in camp lined up to be introduced to Ezra. He smiled and nodded at each one as Mirselene mentioned her name. Later, with Annela's help, Ezra would learn their names, ages and relationships properly but, for now, it was a blur. It didn't help that he was starving hungry. As the women gabbled questions at him, his ever-watchful nurse motioned to Mirselene, who held up her hand to check the curious women again.

"That's enough, Ladies. Ezra can tell us his story at the feast tonight. For now, Ezra, come to my hut and have some food. I expect you're hungry."

He gratefully obeyed and sat at the table on the dais in front of the hut. Annela sat next to him on one side and Parvinder sat on the other side. Casti and Lenta, the other two matrons, who were doing the cooking, were also invited.

"We won't make you talk any more until you have filled your belly," Mirselene said.

"Thank you, Madam," Ezra said, "but I have a question of my own. Where are Wildchild and Tamar?"

"Ah! I had to inflict schooling on those errant youths." She listed their crimes. "Now Tamar is in Sharne's hut helping Pepi read and Wildchild is with Carlin having an archery lesson."

Ezra was much amused by Mirselene's account of his friends' misdemeanours and their denouement.

"It is good of you to put up with us."

"Be assured, Ezra Goldrick, you are all three welcome to stay with us for as long as you like. We will find appropriate work for you all."

"Madam!" It was Annela who exclaimed. "Ezra is our guest!"

"No, you're right, Madam," Ezra replied. "A man should earn his keep. There is plenty of work I can do, especially when my arm has healed. In fact, I already have some idea of what I can do to help."

Mirselene exercised her one fault, so far as Annela was concerned: she beamed her 'told you so' smile and looked smug.

"Your first job will be to tell us your story at the feast this evening."

Ezra nodded his acquiescence.

Food had been prepared while they talked and plates brought for everyone, so that Ezra should not feel awkward eating alone. As he had survived two days on the same rations as a pair of underfed teenage girls, however, it was not likely that awkwardness would prevent him eating his fill.

After two platters of food and eight cups of water, Ezra's eating slowed. He stopped himself asking for a third plate only because he noticed the look on the faces of the woman around him, who had never seen how much a hungry man could gulp down. He did not want to appear greedy; and he had seen from the thinness of most of the Woodlanders that rich food was not abundant in the forest.

With a sigh and his compliments to the cooks, Ezra reluctantly pushed his plate away and relaxed back into his seat, claiming to be replete.

While Ezra relaxed at her table, Mirselene told Parvinder to look at his wounds. The elderly Indian woman dampened the bandage over the cut on his head, peeled it gently back, took a close look at the wound and seemed satisfied. Then she gently undid the bandage on Ezra's arm, dampening it where the ointment had dried. She sniffed the dressing, felt the wound with hard cold fingers, squeezed and twisted his arm quite roughly, which made Ezra wince. She studied the colour of the bruise (purple, almost black, with yellow edges) and stayed silent a moment.

"Your work is competent," she declared at last to Annela. "Also, you're right to say it's not broken, just badly sprained. Which ointment did you use?"

Annela told her.

"It's a good compound. You can continue with it."

Ezra had not realised that Annela was the pupil until he saw the pleasure on her pretty face from Parvinder's compliment.

With Parvinder satisfied, so was Mirselene. She declared late-lunch over and remained in her hut with the matrons for a discussion while Annela led Ezra back to her hut to reapply ointment to his head, to re-bandage his arm and tie it up again in a sling. Sitting on a chair outside Annela's hut, knowing his stomach and his wounds were well taken care of, Ezra relaxed and enjoyed the warm sunny day in the luxuriant forest.

Annela took her place at her loom and began to weave.

As Ezra looked at the camp, the dappled sunlight etched bright spots on the rustic benches and sturdy huts, under whose awnings those women occupied during the hottest part of the day sat working. A gentle wind waved the branches in the high canopy and the contented hens clucked, settling backward into the ash-heap as a heat-haze rose from the dry ground of their run. There was quiet, except for the chirruping of some birds and the gentle swish and clack of Annela's busy loom.

*  *  *

While Ezra was stuffing himself with lunch, Carlin and Wildchild had begun their archery lesson. They shot in the forest because it was too hot in the unshaded meadow and because the trees made convenient nearby targets for their small supply of arrows. Needless to say, Wildchild was a natural, picking up the quirks of the weak short bow and the misshapen arrows almost at once.

"The practise arrows are badly made and don't fly straight," Carlin explained; "but the best arrows are not much better. That's why I lure pigeons onto the forest floor with seed. Then I run out to scare them, so Dagma and Sharne can shoot into a whole bunch taking off at the same time. Hunting ducks is harder because they won't bunch like pigeons."

Wildchild was now reasonably accurate at close quarters, so Carlin took her further into the forest, where she could try shooting arrows a long distance across a small clearing. Soon Wildchild could compete with Carlin, shooting from one end of the glade to the other.

There was not much else Carlin could teach Wildchild: the rest was practise and learning the quirks of the bow, so Carlin said:

"Do you want to see something beautiful?"

Wildchild nodded.

"Then follow me. But we have to be silent and can't be seen."

Wildchild followed Carlin at a trot deeper into the forest. It wasn't long before they were approaching the stand of banana plants where Dipti and Urulla had gone to harvest fruit. The bananas were in a well-lit clearing in the forest, up a slight hill covered with tropical ferns.

As they neared the edge of the clearing, Carlin dropped down to crawl through the ferns on her belly. Wildchild did likewise. They stopped and lay on their fronts, their view obscured by a some fronds.

Carlin indicated to Wildchild that she was going to pull a frond away, so they could see. Wildchild nodded.

There, across the small clearing, at the edge of the banana plantation, beside a stack of large green bananas, were two figures, Dipti and Urulla, sitting on a make-shift bed of banana leafs and ferns.

They were kissing facing each other, legs intertwined. Dipti's hand was under Urulla's tunic, cupping on one of her breasts. With her other hand, she pushed Urulla's skirt up to caress her thigh. Urulla had her hands in Dipti's long straight hair and sucked on her lower lip.

While they kissed like this for some minutes, their secret voyeurs got comfortable, lying silently in the thick undergrowth.

Dipti undid Urulla's tunic and slowly pulled the top down over the girl's shoulders, sweetly stroking Urulla's breasts with her finger-tips as she gently eased the top further down,. She kissed down Urulla's neck to her throat, then to her breasts and gently licked an erect nipple. Urulla shut her eyes and held Dipti's head. Soon, however, she pushed Dipti away from her tit. Urulla's nipples were extra-sensitive when hard and she was learning to be more assertive and stop her lover before she felt discomfort.

Urulla was new to love-making. She was not as shy as at first but she was still hesitant and submissive. Under Dipti's careful tutelage, however, she was opening up and becoming more adventurous.

The girls helped each other take off their smocks, then Dipti laid back and pulled the naked girl down onto her. She wrapped her legs around Urulla's waist as they kissed again.

With encouragement from Dipti, Urulla began to kiss and lick the Indian girl's firm round tits. Her dark-brown nipples were large and prominent. Urulla sucked a nipple between her lips and pulled lightly.

"More, darling! More!" Dipti commanded.

Urulla enveloped more of the tit in her mouth and sucked harder. Dipti moaned encouragement, arching her back and pushing her tits up higher.

"That's lovely, sweetheart!" she whispered and "Suck harder!"

Urulla did so, trying to take as much tit into her mouth as she could, pulling the nipple out with her lips and then engulfing the breast again. She shifted to the other tit and did the same. Dipti moaned sweetly.

Holding the thin girl by the waist, Dipti shifted her legs, so that she and Urulla were scissored together. She pushed up her thigh between Urulla's legs. The girl caught on and began to rub her pussy up and down Dipti's leg. Soon she positioned herself so she could suck Dipti's tits while the two girls rubbed their pussies together.

This pussy rubbing position was nice but not as satisfying as it could be. Dipti pushed Urulla up until she was leaning back, increasing the angle between their groins, soft nether lips meeting soft nether lips. They rubbed their pussies together again, slowly swivelling their hips in opposite directions.

--- At this moment, Wildchild, watching the lovers with hawk-like intensity, felt Carlin's hand grip hers. She neither moved her hand away nor returned the pressure. Soon enough, Carlin let go. Either she acted unconsciously, or the passion that drove her had abated ---

Dipti was building to a climax faster than Urulla. The note of her sweet moans went higher. She leaned on her elbows and began thrusting forward and back. Her excitement rose and Dipti, gyrating wildly, shut her eyes and opened her mouth as her orgasm approached. Yet she needed more.

She disentangled herself and sat with her legs fully spread, asking Urulla to kneel. Then she guided the younger girl's finger into her damp slit.

Urulla smiled to herself when she began fingering her friend. Pretty soon Dipti was moaning loudly again, urging her lover on, climbing toward her climax. Urulla licked the fingers of her other hand and began to rub Dipti's clitoris. Dipti lay fully back, her arms spread wide, her back arched, her eyes shut, breath catching in her throat.

Urulla felt Dipti's pussy closing on her finger, trying to force it out. She immediately stopped, denying Dipti the orgasm her body craved. Dipti squirmed in frustration.

Urulla waited a minute and started finger-fucking her lover again and gently rubbing her clit. This time the orgasm built more quickly. Urulla was on the watch-out for the signs and, again, pulled away in time, leaving Dipti high and dry. Her sweet moans were now genuine complaints.

Urulla repeated this another four times, until Dipti could stand it no longer and tried to finish herself off with her own hand, which Urulla gently removed saying "This time for real."

"You promise?" Dipti gasped.

"I promise," Urulla reassured her.

Leaning over Dipti, she took a mouthful of tit and, sucking hard, pistoned her finger in and out of the wet snatch.

Dipti shook convulsively, shaking her head from side to side, as the orgasm spread over her body. She came a second time when Urulla flicked over her clitoris with her thumb. A minute later she had a third orgasm.

"Oh, God, darling, please. No more!"

Though she was still inexperienced, Urulla was woman enough to know when "No more" means "Do it again, slowly."

Urulla continued masturbating Dipti until she had truly had enough, which was when she closed her legs and turned to one side, gripping Urulla's hand between her thighs.

"All right, darling," Urulla said, freeing her hand, "no more." She lay on her side facing Dipti, caressing her lover in long strokes from shoulder to thigh until the over-stressed girl relaxed and recovered.

"Oh, God! darling, how did you learn that?" Dipti asked, "You've never done that to me before."

"I didn't learn it, darling" Urulla replied. "It's just something I've been thinking about. There's lots of things I want to try, if you'll let me."

"'Let you' darling, did you say 'let you'?" You can do anything you like to me, any time you want. I don't have to 'let you', not if I can't stop you."

Urulla felt pleased and relieved. Normally it was Dipti who teased her. She loved being controlled: she had not tried being in control before. It was almost as good.

Now she had recovered, Dipti rolled over Urulla and lay on top of her. She began to kiss down her neck, between her sensitive tits and down her flat stomach to the mound of hair concealing her slit. Here Dipti basted her girlfriend's clitoris, licking a pattern on it and gently dipping her finger-tip into Urulla's wet vagina, tracing a line up and down its folds. This made Urulla even wetter.

The girl was comfortable lying on her back, her knees raised and spread, her lover eating her pussy. Dipti lapped wetly at Urulla's small hot clitoris and flicked her tongue into a juicy snatch. Urulla moaned with each breath. A warm glow spread from her stomach down to her back and up to her chest and neck.

Satisfied that Urulla was nicely warmed up, Dipti left her clitoris alone for now and slowly pushed a finger into her tight slit, the finger-tip turned downward to stretch the skinny girl's vagina. Urulla gasped as Dipti finger-fucked her. She bucked her pelvis and sucked her own fingers. Now Dipti turned her finger-tip upward to catch on Urulla's most sensitive spot. The girl grabbed her hair and began to writhe.

Dipti slid two fingers into Urulla's twat and turned them flat. The younger girl was too sensitised to speak but grabbed hold of Dipti to signal she didn't like the stretch. Dipti ignored her and left the two fingers in her vagina until she got used to them. Then she started fingering Urulla again, who began to buck her pelvis. Dipti rubbed faster and flicked her thumb over Urulla's clitoris.

Urulla soon felt an orgasm starting and forgot she did not like the stretch. Her eyes tight shut, she heaved and relaxed, heaved and relaxed, in something like a cough and a sneeze together, throughout her whole body. Her convulsions lasted a minute, then she lay quiet and sedate, her nerves exhausted, just the glow remained.

As the lovers lay together gently fondling, kissing and whispering, coming down from their peaks of ecstasy, Carlin signalled to Wildchild that it was time for them to leave.

The girls crawled away in silence. When they were far enough away to stand up, Carlin said to Wildchild in a barely-audible whisper, "They are wonderful bed-mates, aren't they?"

Wildchild grunted her agreement but even that beautiful sight did not inspire her to speak.

On their way back, they passed where Sharne and Dagma were working and Carlin said "Let's help them".

The women were taking turns to chop at the branch of a fallen-down tree, cutting logs for fire-wood and smaller branches to make hafts for tools.

"We're off back to camp," Carlin said. "Can we take anything for you?"

"Good girl," Dagma replied. "we'll load you up."

The women set Wildchild a few feet behind Carlin and plonked a dozen long poles on their shoulders. These would do for fencing or roof repairs. With a playful smack on Carlin's bottom, Sharne sent the girls back to camp.

*  *  *

Back at the camp, Ezra was helping Annela weave bandages by feeding her the twine and holding the comb she used to straighten up the cloth. He was happy not to talk and Annela was content for now not to badger him with the questions about Earth and (especially) men that burned in all the Woodlander women.

They saw Carlin and Wildchild return to the camp with the burden of poles on their shoulders. Soon the girls came to join them and, after a short greeting and a mumbled account of their day from Carlin, the girls went off somewhere.

Next back to camp were Sharne and Dagma, heavily laden with logs, shortly followed by Dipti and Urulla each carrying a basket of green bananas and a tied-up bundle of banana leafs. After Sharne and Dagma had piled up their logs, Sharne went to check on Pepi. Pretty soon, Tamar appeared with the books, which she took back to Mirselene and then joined Ezra and Annela.

She was full of talk and entertained Ezra with her account of that day's achievements, the main thrill of which was access to Mirselene's library of four ancient paperback books. She had read the Herders' small collection of books a dozen times and was delighted with her history book, some details of which she wanted Ezra to explain to her.

While Tamar was happily chatting away, Dagma had undressed in her hut and made her way, naked, across the camp. Sharne and Pepi had also stripped and the naked pair met Dagma on the way. Ezra was listening to Tamar when they passed and he stared at first and then averted his eyes.

"What is it, Ezra?" Tamar asked.

"Naked women! There are naked women just walking about!"

Annela laughed.

"It's bath time. We should all go. I expect that's where Carlin and Wildchild went."

All the Woodlanders, including some Junoesque matrons, but not Mirselene, were now heading for a stretch of the river upstream, east of the camp, where a natural pool formed. It had a shallow bank on the near side and a steep clay bank on the far side. In the afternoon, when the day was hot and the cool water was refreshing, the women would bathe. They cleaned each other by smothering their bodies with wet clay from the river bed or far bank and then dunked in the river to wash it off. There were benches to rest on and a line strung between two posts to hang clothes at the weekly wash.

Ezra tried to look aside as Annela and Tamar undressed but he could not help sneaking a glance at Annela's naked beauty. The sight of her pert small breasts and shapely legs had the standard effect on a relatively healthy male. So, besides modesty, his erection (which he tried to conceal with his arm) was another reason for him not to join the women at the bathing place.

"Is it your Earthly sense of privacy again, Ezra?" Annela asked kindly, amusement also in her voice.

"I am afraid so, though I'm sure I could do with a bath."

"We'll bring you back some buckets of water and you can have a wash in the hut, if you want. Mirselene does it all the time"

"Thanks, Annela," Ezra said, relieved, trying not to look at her nude body.

Still amused at Ezra's discomfort around naked women, Annela kindly said "This is for your sake, you know."

"Getting naked?"

"No, bathing. .. I mean, we do bathe regularly, especially if we work up a sweat at our jobs, like Sharne and Dagma, but for everyone to want to bathe on the same afternoon is exceptional. Consider it a compliment."

"I surely do," Ezra said, not sure what else to say.




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 03



With a last laugh at the uncomfortable Earthman, trying (and failing) to use his one good arm to cover both his lap and his eyes, Annela and Tamar went off to the river.

Carlin and Wildchild were indeed having a wash, along with Erin, Dipti, Urulla and nearly all the Woodlanders. The pool was full. Annela and Tamar had to wait with a couple of others, but it was not long before there was space, as women climbed out of the river to dry themselves off in the warm afternoon sun.

The first out were Dagma, Sharne and Pepi, though Pepi had to be put back into the pool because, to her mother's exasperation and her own amusement, she had the clever idea of rolling in the dust on the ground to dry off.

There was mutual grooming after a bath because long hair needs to be combed. This communal activity gave an opportunity to gossip about the day's events. Most of the women had met Ezra by now, so Annela was spared some of the inevitable questioning as she and Tamar entered the river to bathe. When they had washed each other, Annela sat behind Tamar, combing tangles out of her long blonde hair. Most of the gossiping women had left to prepare for that night's feast, in eager anticipation of the time when Ezra should tell his story.

Wildchild, who did not care for any such frippery as combing her hair but merely shook it out and let it curl naturally, had a short whispered conversation with Tamar and went back to the hut to move their backpacks into Erin's hut. She now returned, cleaned and dressed, to help Tamar carry her bucket of water back for Ezra.

Ezra waited outside while Annela changed into her other set of clothes, then she undid his sling and helped him off with his shirt. She also removed the plaster from his head, reapplying a smaller one. He refused her offer to help with his trousers and to help wash him. He was getting adept at undressing with one arm, so she left him in the hut and went to give a report to Mirselene.

For some reason, her chief wanted an almost-hourly account of Ezra's status. Annela obliged, Mirselene was happy to learn that Ezra had mended enough to wash himself and was a little surprised that he was embarrassed by female nudity.

"I cannot complain, though," Mirselene concluded, almost to herself. "It sits happily with what I hoped."

Annela did not understand this but she did have a question.

"Madam, earlier today you got Parvinder to look at Ezra's injury."

"Yes, were you offended?"

"Not at all, I would have consulted her myself anyway; but it did make me wonder..."

"Yes?"

"Why did you choose me to be Ezra's nurse when Parvinder might have done a better job?"

"That's easy, child. It's because you're the prettiest of us."

"What difference could that make?" Annela asked, feeling herself begin to blush.

"You know I'm a schemer, Annela, a planner and plotter. I'm always trying to think a few moves ahead."

She put her soft plump hand on Annela's damask cheek.

"There is a purpose to all this, child, don't you worry."

Annela had to be content with this answer, which was no answer at all.

"And now, question for question," Mirselene said. "Why did you wait in the camp here when Carlin reported seeing an actual living man in the forest? Why didn't you rush out to see for yourself?"

"Because I didn't believe it, of course, Madam. Did you?"

"Oh yes. I never thought Carlin would make up something like that. I believed and I began thinking. I decided you should nurse our man before I'd even set eyes on him."

This was all Annela could get Mirselene to say but she resolved to find answers to her questions. There was only one person to ask. Casti was Urulla's mother and the woman who looked after the hens. Had she been ambitious rather than philosophical, she might have been chief instead of Mirselene; and she was perhaps the wisest of the Woodlanders. Annela would consult her at dinner that night.

Meanwhile, she thought Ezra must be finished washing and returned to her hut to check.

He had finished. He had used Annela's precious sponge carefully and afterward dipped his clothes in a bucket, shaking them out onto the floor. In a minute they were clean and dry, a benefit of modern self-cleaning synthetic materials. Ezra felt better, though he wished he could have shaved as well because his beard would reach the itchy stage in a few days; but there seemed to be no razors on Samothea. None the less, this was the best he had felt since his crash-landing. He was rested enough to face any kind of questioning at the feast and was even looking forward to telling his story.

Annela came in after knocking and helped Ezra put his shirt back on. He sat on the bed while she tied his arm in the sling and, a motherly touch, brushed his damp hair off his forehead. Then they were ready to join the others at dinner.

The preparations for the feast were almost complete and the hungry Woodlanders were milling about the stove and the various cooking pots, waiting for Mirselene to arrive. Normally they would eat when the food was ready but tonight was a special occasion, in honour of Ezra and their other guests.

It was not only the freshly-washed Woodlanders who had made an effort at grooming for that night's event. After dismissing Annela, Mirselene put on her best dress and arranged her hair (normally a severe bun) into a less severe bun. Of all the Woodlander women, in fact, the only one who did not dress up that evening was Dagma, to the disappointment and perplexity of her mother.

With the chief in place on her seat and the matrons suitably honoured and provisioned, the Woodlander feast began. Everyone set to eating her (and now also his) fill. Carlin, Wildchild and Tamar dutifully helped the older women to their platters and fetched cups or water or fruit juice until everyone insisted that they help themselves and sit down. The youths ate together and conversed quietly, the topic of their talk drowned by the louder voices of the older women.

Carlin whispered to Tamar how she and Wildchild had watched Dipti and Urulla from a hiding place. Tamar asked for the details but Carlin gave only a sketchy account, ending by saying "They're beautiful bed-mates."

"When I'm eighteen, Wildchild and I are going to be bed-mates," Tamar whispered back.

Carlin said nothing but she felt her face getting hot with a blush. Wildchild also heard but her face was inscrutable.

On the other side of the fire, Annela had left Ezra to the tender mercies of Mirselene and two matrons and gone to talk to Casti, who was always delighted to be consulted on any complicated matter. Also, since her daughter, Urulla, had recently begun sharing a hut with Dipti, Casti welcomed the company of such a bright youngster as Annela. They manoeuvred themselves to the end of a bench so their discussion could be relatively private.

Annela told Casti the part of her conversation that morning with Mirselene, where Mirselene had said that Tamar's question 'Why do we keep Adam?' was a good one.

"But it's obvious why we keep a cockerel, isn't it?" she insisted.

"Yes, dear, there is one obvious reason but there is also another reason. I doubt Tamar was thinking of it but I'm sure Mirselene was. Annela, have you ever seen how hens behave when there is no cock around?"

"No."

"Well, I have looked after the hens since I was a girl and once, long ago, the old cock was snatched by a peregrine and there was only a hatchling to take his place. I don't know if it's our particular breed of chicken or how we look after them but, golly, did the hens squabble without a cock to break up the fights! You know the pecking order they have now? Imagine the same thing but ten times worse. Some hens were plucked completely bare! The only thing worse than hens fighting is cocks fighting. That's why we keep only one adult male at a time."

Annela was silent, thinking. Then:

"But I've never seen Adam attack any of the hens or break up a fight between them."

"Nor have I," replied Casti, "but also I have never seen a squabble between hens break out into a real fight when there is an adult cock around. The hens never gang up on each other, even if Adam is too far away to intervene. It is always one-on-one when our hens bicker. I think it's his influence."

Annela was silent again.

"It's a interesting idea isn't it?" Casti continued, reading Annela's thoughts, as she tried to guess what Mirselene had been pondering. "Have you never wondered why our chiefs are, how shall I say it, the least feminine of us?"

"But Mirselene is very feminine," Annela protested.

"Perhaps so, in her manner, and of course she is greatly blessed with tits, but you must admit that she is not otherwise very feminine; and just think of Belena and Solange ..."

Annela had seen Belena, chief of the Mariners, and Solange, chief of the Herders. Both were warrior women: muscular, strong and (in the case of Solange) aggressive. Where Mirselene was stout and dumpy, Belena and Solange were athletic. Solange was also flat-chested; but Mirselene was as strong mentally as the other chiefs. She ruled by force of personality, while (Annela was sure) the other chiefs added physical domination to their authority.

"We Woodlanders are gentle and shy," Casti continued, "so Mirselene need not bully like Solange or constantly show off like Belena; but you'll admit that Mirselene has self-confidence and never needs our reassurance. The rest of us are always worrying what someone else thinks of us."

"That's true."

"So notice that Adam has no trouble being the only cockerel, while the silly hens, though they squabble and bicker, cannot bear to be alone. Even enemies who pecked at each other earlier that day will clump together on their perches at night - for fellowship, I suspect, as much as for warmth."

"You do have interesting ideas, Casti. Do you think Mirselene considers us no different from a bunch of silly hens?" she asked with a smile.

"Now, don't take a metaphor too far, Annela. No doubt she thinks some of us are hens - but she thinks others of us are more like cows or ducks."

Annela laughed and Casti summed up their conversation:

"I expect Mirselene has thought more than any of us about what Ezra's presence will mean for the Woodlanders. I would like to know what she has decided but I can't expect her to confide in any of us. We'll know soon enough, no doubt."

This conclusion seemed to satisfy Casti, so there was nothing more to say, but the two women remained silent, thinking.

Now that even Ezra had finished eating (and it was amazing to the women who had seen him eat two platters only three or four hours ago that he yet had the largest appetite in the camp) it was time to listen to his story.

Calling for silence, Mirselene stood and said a few words of introduction:

"Ladies, by now we have all met and welcomed our three charming guests. I am sure Ezra, Wildchild and Tamar are in turn beginning to know us and get used to our peculiar ways. I hope their stay with us will be long and happy."

The Woodlanders clapped or cheered their approval.

"Last night, Wildchild and Tamar told us their story. Tonight I invite Ezra to say some words about his mission from Earth to find us, the lost remnants of brave pioneers. Tomorrow night it will be our turn to tell him the Story of Samothea."

"Ezra, the floor is yours. I hope you will not mind answering our questions, simple and backward as our life is compared to what you know on Earth."

"Madam, Ladies," Ezra began, "Chief Mirselene is too modest on your behalf. I am far from thinking your life is simple and backward. Rather, I am in awe of everything you do. I certainly would not be able to survive as you have without modern technology, still less live in comfort as you do. You are the most resourceful people I have met."

This praise was enjoyed; and Ezra genuinely meant what he said, even though his thoughts that morning about transforming the Woodlander's lives with modern tools (if he could only salvage them from his ship) were also true.

Ezra then began his story. He explained what a planetary prospector was and told how he had researched Samothea in the libraries of Earth; how he had sought funding for the trip; how he received the qualified support of the original prospecting and settling companies; how he borrowed money from friends and family; how he left a letter with his sister Danielle; how he tested his engines and visited Capella to stock up (was it really only a week or so ago?); and how he crash-landed a dead ship in the ocean. The rest - his journey to the Woodlander camp - they knew from Tamar.

Now the questions began; but they were not about ancestral Earth or the wonders of space-flight, the comforts of modern technology or the chances of future visitors from Earth. They were about women's fashions and sexual relationships.

What little Ezra knew of women's fashions was through his mother, a society beauty and trend-setter, so what he said surprised them all. None could believe that clothing was so abundant on Earth that some women never wore the same dress twice; nor that Ezra's mother, Mariotta, had refused to speak to a friend for over a year because that friend had worn the same colour dress as her to a ball and did not go home to change. He told them that the fashion industry and the general public had almost opposite ideals of female beauty. The fashion industry's ideal woman was an dangerously skinny seventeen-year-old, preferably with a drug-habit. For red-blooded heterosexual males, however, the ideal woman was a curvaceous thirty-year-old.

The questions about relationships between the sexes were quite tame at first. The women wanted to know what marriage was like, what were Earth-women like, how women treated other women and, especially, how men and women treated each other.

He answered the questions as honestly as he could but he avoided too much personal detail. To tell the truth, there was little he could say. He had never been married and his longest relationship was for only five years. He was not about to tell the Woodlanders that, as a planet-hopping space-gypsy, most of his relationships with women in the last fifteen years had been brief and professional.

Darkness fell quickly on the camp. A strong west-wind rustled the tree-tops and lent a chill to the air. The roaring camp fire spread haphazard flickers painting the Woodlanders' faces in sharp-shadowed beauty. Soon the night-rain would put an end to the feast, sparing Ezra further questioning. For now, though, his audience were emboldened to ask details about his own life: Was a woman waiting for him back on Earth? Was he married? What type of women did he like best: what colour hair, what kind of figure, how tall, what colour eyes?

Ezra deflected all such questions with the skill of a politician and Mirselene's gruff cough also occasionally signalled that questioning had gone too far.

To the surprise of those who knew her as a quiet and naturally shy girl, Urulla had asked the most questions. Her eyes shone with the true student's intensity, as she listened to Ezra's account of marriage and Earthly ideas of femininity and masculinity. Someone else whose eyes shone was Dagma. Noticed only by Annela, her plain homely face was animated by the keenest interest.

Altogether, the Woodlanders were satisfied with what they had learned about Earth and doubtless judged that Ezra would be more forthcoming about sex when they got to know him better. As Mirselene gave the order to clear up the plates, each woman secretly planned to get to know Ezra better. Reluctantly, the Woodlanders left the feast to settle down for the night. They thanked Ezra for his story, wished him goodnight and returned to their huts to sleep.

When Ezra was lying on her bed, Annela propped his arm on a cushion then lay down on the floor with the blanket. Annela felt she had to apologise for something.

"Ezra, I know you answered our questions openly but I am ashamed of how we asked you about sex and fashions on Earth. We didn't ask you anything that mattered, about how we could improve life here."

"I disagree, Annela. I admit that I was a little embarrassed by some of the questions but I understand their motivation. I am one of those who thinks that science and facts about the world are what matter most. Most people think that relationships matter most. Maybe they are right."

She heard the drowsiness in his voice. Clearly, telling his story had tired him out again.

"I'm not sure that was the motivation of the questions, but I like your way of looking at it. Good night, Ezra."

"Good night, Annela."

As she dozed off to sleep, Annela thought she had found something else to like about Ezra. He was scrupulously polite, even chivalrous, but he disagreed with her without hesitation when he thought she was wrong. She liked that. She liked it very much; though she could not say why she liked it. Here was a new puzzle for her to think about at the end of a puzzling day.



Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 04



Chapter 4

The Bedmate Custom

[Previously in the story: In the year 2554, Ezra Goldrick, a forty-year-old planetary prospector, spends his last night on Capella Spaceport before taking the hazardous journey to Samothea, a planet 2000 light-years away that was lost a century ago. On Capella, he meets Yumi, a Japanese engineer, who spends the night with him but is missing next morning when he wakes.]

[Ezra crash-lands on Samothea and is rescued from the sea by Wildchild and Tamar. He learns that there are no men on Samothea and all the women are clones. The women live in six apparently antagonistic tribes. The girls lead him to the Woodlanders, peaceful forest-dwellers, who will tend to his wounds. The journey takes two days.]

[Meanwhile, on Earth, Ezra's sister Danielle, an astrophysicist, is too busy making love to her boyfriend, Roger, to notice that a star near to Samothea collapsed about a hundred years ago.]

[Next day, Ezra meets the Woodlander tribeswomen, learns some of their ways and begins to fall for his nurse, Annela.]

*******

That night, Ezra dreamed about Annela and woke next morning with a stiff erection that propped up his shorts. He looked around and saw his pretty nurse had already gone out. Annela had woken half-an-hour earlier, when Adam shrieked his morning call, and sat up under her blanket against the hut wall, watching Ezra sleep as the light slowly crept along the floor of the hut and up the legs of the cot, making him appear to emerge from the shadows like a ghost returning from the grave. She was fascinated by his erection and wanted to touch his penis, just to see what it felt like, but decided it was best not to, in case she woke him. Ezra looked comfortable, so she dressed and went about her morning chores with Erin.

After getting up, Ezra spent some time furtively peaking around the end of the hut to make sure the crapper was unoccupied when he visited it; then he joined Wildchild and Tamar. They were with Carlin, who was setting out bamboo, rushes and bark that would later be used for basket-weaving. It seemed like the girls were going to get a lesson on another useful Woodlander skill; but it was one neither girl seemed particularly keen to acquire. Wildchild idly tapped her sandal with the end of the practise bow that she now carried around with her all the time; and Tamar dreamily focussed on the distance, no doubt counting the hours until she could take up Mirselene's history book again.

Ezra was a welcome interruption.

"Good morning, girls," he said. "I need to stretch my legs. If you're not busy, would you like to come for a walk in the forest?"

Wildchild and Tamar immediately jumped up and Tamar said, "Come on Carlin," but the shy girl explained she had to finish her work. This suited Ezra, who had something to ask the girls.

After Wildchild had quickly retrieved some burnt-tip arrows from Erin's hut, they headed into the forest at a good pace. Tamar added a skip every few steps to keep up or just for fun. After five minutes, Ezra had to slow down. He was not as strong as he thought he was, though the vigorous walking had felt good.

Now Wildchild stopped to string her bow and load an arrow. She jogged briefly to catch up. As they walked, she looked up for birds, occasionally taking aim; but no pigeons flew close enough to warrant loosing a shaft and the smaller birds chirruping in the bushes were not worth her effort.

At the slower pace, Ezra began to talk.

"Sorry to take you away from your lesson with Carlin," he said.

"We don't mind. It was only basket-weaving," Tamar replied. Wildchild added her own very disapproving grunt. Ezra looked quizzically at Tamar for a translation.

"She says it's women's work," Tamar explained, which amused Ezra, who wondered how such a concept could exist in an all-female society.

"Baskets are useful things in the forest," he said. "You have swag bags yourselves. How are they made?"

"A sheep's stomach, sewn up."

"Is sewing women's work as well, Wildchild?"

She stopped scanning the sky for a moment to grant him an amused grunt and, with a captivating smile, brandished her bow.

"I understand," Ezra said, "hunting is real work: everything else is women's work."

Satisfied, the three walked on a little further, silent until Ezra spoke again.

"How long are you planning to stay with the Woodlanders?"

"We haven't decided yet but there is a duck-hunt in two weeks that Wildchild wants to go on. We may stay longer."

"I asked because I need a favour from you."

"What favour?"

"Do you remember where my ship sank? Could you lead me there again?"

"Is that the favour?" Tamar asked, seeing the look of caution on Wildchild's face. They stopped walking.

"Yes. I want to rescue my tools, clothes and some other things from my ship but I have no idea where it went down. Also, I don't think I'll be able to swim properly for at least a month. But as soon as I'm fully fit, I plan to ask the Woodlanders to accompany me on a salvage mission and I'll need one or both of you as guides. I wanted to check that you'd still be around."

The girls whispered together for a minute and then Tamar turned around.

"We don't think you can do it, Ezra."

"Do what?"

"Salvage your ship."

"Why not?"

"Because it's under water. None of us can swim. Only the Mariners can swim."

"Is that so? I am surprised. Are you sure? The Woodlanders go most afternoons to bathe in the river."

"Yes, they splash around but none can swim properly."

Ezra thought for a minute and realised he would certainly need the help of proficient divers to salvage what he wanted from his ship, even if it was submerged only in shallow water. He was silent.

Encouraged by nods from Wildchild, Tamar spoke again.

"I'm sorry, Ezra, but we don't want to take the risk of being captured by the Mariners and given back to the Herders. They won't be merciful."

"I understand. I wouldn't have asked you to take the risk if it was not really important. With the tools I have on board, I could transform the Woodlanders' lives. Also, I have a survival kit and medicines, which you could take on your journey to the mountains."

Knowing Tamar's love for books, Ezra added a further incentive: "I also have a dozen books from Earth."

Tamar was sorely tempted now. Her whispered discussion with Wildchild was animated. Ezra waited patiently, enjoying the fresh morning in the forest, the dampness in the air slowly dispelling now the sun burnt golden shafts through the tree-tops. Tamar seemed to be pleading in favour of helping Ezra but Wildchild was adamant. It seemed odd to Ezra that Tamar should be the risk-taker and Wildchild the more wary one but, eventually, Wildchild prevailed.

"Sorry, Ezra," Tamar said, "we can't take the risk."

"I do understand, girls, and I won't ask you again. I'll just have to think of another way."

The fact was that Ezra was not convinced of the threat from the Herders, which he interpreted as the product of two teenage girls' fantasies. Perhaps mistakenly, he did not think a tribe of cattle and sheep-herding women could be the terror of the Samothean plains.

One thing he had not told them about, though he was sure it would be as strong incentive for Wildchild as books were for Tamar, was his weapons. With his projectile-gun powered by chemical cartridges, besides his laser and plasma tools that can be used for destruction as well as creation, he was sure he could defend the Woodlander tribe from any group of Herders, regardless what they were armed with or how aggressive they were.

There was silence for a minute or two, then Ezra seemed to change the subject, asking:

"What weapons do the Herders have?"

"Spears, whips and lassoes. The younger ones use sling-shots."

Ezra had seen Wildchild take out her sling-shot but had not seen her use it yet. He was tempted to say his projectile gun could shoot a bullet a thousand times further and a thousand times more accurately than she could cast a pebble or shoot an arrow; but he thought better of it for the moment. Instead, he set himself to wondering how difficult it would be to get the Mariners to help him salvage his ship.

Ezra had stretched his legs enough and the girls were beginning to feel hungry, so they turned back toward the camp. As Wildchild had not shot at a single bird, on the way back she loosed her arrows off at nearby trees, just for practise. They waited for her to retrieve them.

While Ezra and the girls were walking, Annela finished her early-morning chores and went to ask Parvinder a medical question.

"Tell me about the penis," she said.

The old Indian woman shut her eyes and reflected for a few minutes, recalling the contents of the medical book that had been her constant study during the months she stayed at the Cloner City conceiving and bearing Dipti, some thirty or so years ago.

"It's a muscle," she at last answered, "and it has two tubes in it: one for urine and one for - I forget what it's called - the male liquid that impregnates a women."

Annela did not know the name of the liquid.

"The penis swells when the man is aroused and blood pumps into it. ... That's what the textbook said but, I admit, I'm not sure exactly how it works. I suppose the man might pump it by hand."

"He might do that," Annela agreed, "but twice now I've seen Ezra's penis swell of its own accord."

"You have?"

"Yes. Once when Tamar and I undressed to go bathing, and this morning, when Ezra was still asleep."

"What did it look like? How big was it? Did you touch it"

"I didn't touch it. I wanted to, but I thought I might wake Ezra. I saw only its outline under his clothes but it looked longer than my hand and wider than three of my fingers."

Parvinder nodded wisely, trying to match her memory of the illustrations in the Human Biology book with her imagination of Ezra naked and erect.

"You know, Annela, why the penis swells?"

"Yes, it becomes stiff so it can go into a vagina. I wonder what it feels like when it swells."

"I don't know. Perhaps it's what a clitoris feels like when one is aroused."

"Do you think it hurts him?"

"I doubt it. Your clitoris doesn't hurt you, does it?"

Annela shook her head.

"Also, you said he was asleep when it happened last. We don't normally sleep through pain. But his penis might become sensitive, like a clitoris or nipples. Don't your nipples become sensitive when you're aroused?"

"Somewhat, but not very sensitive. I never object to them being licked or played with. Your Dipti is even less sensitive. You can bite her tits as she is about to orgasm and she will still ask for harder treatment."

Annela and Dipti had been bedmates and the women of Samothea were completely open about sexual matters. No compunction prevented her discussing intimate sexual details with any of the adult Woodlanders, not even with Dipti's own mother. A woman like Annela still blushed like a teenager if anyone paid her a compliment but she felt no shame at all in regard to bodily functions. This was in marked contrast to Ezra, who would not go to the toilet if anyone else was there and had never stripped naked in front of her. She thought about this for a minute, then she returned to her questions for Parvinder, saying:

"Have you ever wondered what it would be like to have a penis inside you."

"You've had fingers in your vagina, haven't you?"

"Yes, but only one. I don't like any more. Ezra's penis is much bigger than a finger."

"Well, the textbook had diagrams of sexual congress and an account of its biology but no real description of what it feels like. I guess you'll find out soon enough."

"What do you mean?"

Parvinder did not answer directly but asked instead:

"Have you guessed what Mirselene has planned for you?"

"For me? Why should she have a plan for me?"

Parvinder only smiled at this reply and Annela realised that her incredulity was a little disingenuous. Mirselene had indeed hinted at a plan the day before. Smiling herself now, she thanked the matron and went back to her hut to prepare her medicines and bandages for Ezra's return.

When the three got back to the camp, Wildchild and Tamar went to help prepare breakfast while Ezra was called over to her hut by Annela, who wanted to dress his wounds. She decided he did not need a head-bandage any more: the gash was scarring over nicely. She would keep it moist with lotion on a plaster. As for his sprained arm, she left the splints off when she re-bandaged it, so that Ezra could move his arm a little. She tied off his sling and they went together to breakfast.

All the tribe were at breakfast early and, while they waited to load up their platters, paid the usual attention to Ezra. As he seemed able to cope with their pestering, Annela became less protective. She sat in silence while Ezra fended off the penetrating questions. He was spared only when the food was ready.

In the few minutes of silence when eating began, Ezra had time to whisper to Annela, checking with her that he now recognised all the Woodlanders by name and had a pretty good idea of their ages. He sorted the information in his head.

There were twelve Woodlanders in all. The four matrons: Lenta, Sharne's mother, who was sixty-five (apparently a very good age on Samothea); Parvinder, Dipti's mother, the Indian woman who cooked well and was expert in medicine, aged sixty-one; Mirselene, aged fifty-five; and Casti, mother of Urulla, the wise woman who tended the chickens. She was forty-six.

Next came six middle-aged women: Erin, aged forty-two, mother of Carlin; Sharne, aged thirty-seven, mother of Pepi; Dipti, aged thirty-three; Dagma, Mirselene's daughter, aged twenty-eight; Annela, aged twenty-four; and Urulla, aged nineteen.

Lastly, there were two children: Carlin, aged fifteen, and Pepi, aged eight.

Quickly doing the maths in his head, Ezra noticed that the Woodlanders had once had a clone every four or five years but recently they were every eight or nine years. Also, there was a gap between Mirselene and Casti that was presumably once filled by Annela's mother.

In general, Ezra judged the Woodlanders to be fit, strong and good-looking women. Except for Lenta, Mirselene and Dagma, they were all thin (though none so thin as Tamar). Lenta had surely once been athletic, like her daughter, Sharne, but had become corpulent with age. Mirselene and Dagma had always been robust.

The prettiest of the adults was Annela, whose pink, auburn and white beauty contrasted perfectly with the green and grey of the forest. She was five feet six inches tall, about middle height for a Woodlander. The blonde Erin was about the same height and a very handsome woman. Dipti curved more than the other women and had delectable round breasts to go with her round face and pretty black eyes. She was shorter than Annela. Urulla was the tallest. She had long straight brown hair and long straight thin legs. She also had one of those faces that looked like she had too many teeth. Her mother, Casti, had lost an inch of height but her features had gained an aristocratic mien.

As for the girls, Carlin had an elfin sweetness, a small-featured copy of her blue-eyed mother. Wildchild was even prettier than Carlin. Her green eyes shone mischievously out of a cheeky gamin face framed by strands of loosely-curling black hair; but no one in the forest had the heart-stopping beauty that Tamar would certainly possess in a few years' time.

When breakfast was over, most of the women were reluctant to leave while Ezra was still there answering questions, so Mirselene again asserted her authority and the gathering broke up, each woman going to her task.

Sharne and Dagma, the wood-cutters, did not return to the forest but worked on some smaller branches they had cut from the fallen-down tree. They sat on a bench whittling the odd-shaped pieces into tools. Dagma was working on a short branch joined to a piece of trunk that would become a ladle when she had hollowed the trunk part into a bowl. Sharne was making the curved handle of a hand-axe. They carved with small flints but such inefficient and easily-blunted tools made the work arduous.

Ezra had been good at carpentry on Earth and took a keen interest in their work. He walked over and offered to help. Sharne was very pleased and gave him a flat piece of wood and a stone adze, telling him to wedge the wood between the benches or stick it in the ground, then he could shape it into the blade of a spade with one hand. Ezra tried but the piece kept moving. It really was a two-handed job.

All this time, Dagma had been bent over her work, paying no attention to him. This was her usual response in his presence, a kind of angry silence. Sharne had no idea why Dagma seemed to dislike Ezra. She liked him herself very much and, after Urulla, was his most eager questioner. Now she suggested he might like to work with Dagma. They could take turns, one holding the piece, the other using the tool. Dagma pretended not to hear but bent lower over her task. So, with an apologetic smile, Sharne put down her own work and assisted him.

She found him a very good woodworker. He used longer strokes with the flint tool than either she or Dagma did, cutting deep smooth slices along the grain. Soon the spade was done and Ezra held Sharne's piece for her to finish. She tried Ezra's style but couldn't do it. She couldn't press hard enough with the tool. It was the first intimation she had of his strength.

Dagma was still carving her ladle when Sharne finished and this time Sharne was not going to be ignored. She insisted that Ezra be allowed to help and Dagma relented.

"You'll be impressed," Sharne said. "Ezra's very strong."

In silence, Dagma handed her tool to him and held the ladle firmly onto the bench. Rather than chip away at the stump, as Dagma had done, Ezra held the flint-chisel flat and twisted it around like a drill. It cut deeply into the wood, removing large shavings. It was working well and when Ezra stopped to rest for a second, Sharne took over, trying his technique; but she could barely make any progress. Clearly Ezra's method needed more weight and strength than she possessed. Now Sharne was truly impressed and even Dagma's hostile look became tinged with respect.

On the other side of the camp, Erin and some of the matrons were weaving baskets. They chatted as they worked, adding a pleasant alto hubbub to the cocktail of background forest noises.

Annela and the girls had gone into the forest with Dipti and Urulla to forage for tubers, berries and seeds. That afternoon, Carlin and Wildchild were to have an archery lesson with Sharne and Dagma, finishing off with a pigeon hunt. All this activity - the baskets, Annela's cloth, the wooden tools - were for the monthly trade with the Mariners, due to occur in two weeks. Roasted and salted pigeon was a valuable addition to the trade-goods, so not all birds shot today would go to the night's feast.

The morning drifted into the afternoon. There was plenty of wood-working to do but Ezra could not carve wood alone so, when the time came for Carlin and Wildchild to be taken for their archery lesson, he joined Tamar and Pepi, who were having a reading lesson.

Pepi had taken strongly to Ezra. The excitable girl was usually subdued in his presence and now she climbed into his lap as they sat under the awning of her mother's hut. She opened her book and spelled out the words but was really just content to repeat what she already knew rather than learn anything fresh.

Tamar was supposed to be helping Pepi read but she was more interested in the history book Mirselene lent her and demanded Ezra's help to decipher its text. She was unfamiliar with many of the words and even more of the ideas, names and places. Ezra did his best to answer. He explained what the Anglosphere was: how half the world now followed the Westminster and Philadelphia Constitutions, practised free trade, had liberal laws and democratic governments. He explained Earth's customs, warfare, populations, cities and anything else Tamar asked, knowing that her questions were inexhaustible and his knowledge modest. Still, he did his best and Tamar was enchanted.




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 04



Though Ezra was slightly peckish, there had been no lunch and it occurred to him that yesterday's extra meal was in his honour and not the usual practise of the Woodlanders.

The afternoon drifted on, getting warmer and lazier. Pepi became bored and began to fidget but it was too hot and she was in too much awe of Ezra to be much of a nuisance. The camp descended into a long silence that lasted until the foragers returned with their baskets of vegetables and seeds. Then there was plenty of bustle to entertain Pepi.

The foragers deposited their gleanings in the storage hut and, though it was still early afternoon, conveyed themselves to the bathing place to prepare for another special feast that night. All except Annela, who quickly checked that Ezra needed nothing and then made her way to seek out Mirselene and find an answer to at least one of her perplexing questions.

Mirselene was in her hut, avoiding the heat of the afternoon sun, when Annela scratched at the door post and was admitted.

"Good afternoon, Annela," Mirselene said. "I'm glad you're back. Was it a successful forage."

"Yes, Madam, very."

"I see you left Ezra to fend for himself."

"He was comfortable and there was no one to pester him because we were all occupied with chores."

"I see, though I expressly relieved you of all your duties so you could tend to Ezra full time."

"I know. I'm sorry I disobeyed but I really think Ezra can look after himself now."

"He can, of course, but that was not my purpose."

"No, Madam, I see it wasn't. Parvinder hinted as much this morning. Please will you tell me what you want me to do?"

Mirselene never liked to use a direct approach. Perhaps she ought to have revealed her plan from the beginning but she always preferred to lay the groundwork first. Even now that it seemed necessary to level with Annela, Mirselene would not be direct, wanting instead for Annela to reach the conclusion for herself.

"You understand why we are all interested in Ezra, don't you?" she asked, "That there is something behind the attention we give him, other than interest in an exotic visitor from space?"

"Yes, Madam. It's sex."

"Good girl. Tell me more."

"Well, we are all trying to, er, attract him, ... that is, to make him desire us sexually, even to fall in love with us."

"Quite right, Annela. There is an old Earth word for it we don't use much: 'seduce'."

"I understand. We are all trying to 'seduce' Ezra. We all bathed yesterday and some of us took the long way to the river just to parade naked in front of him. We sit at his feet and ask endless probing questions, hoping for an emotional response. We offer him food from our platters; put on our best clothes; and put flowers in our hair."

Mirselene nonchalantly checked her hair was still tied up out of the way, thereby secreting in her hand the small ring of daises she had laced into the grey bun that morning.

"Doubtless we are doing everything wrong by Earth standards," Annela continued, pretending not to notice the petals in her chief's plump hand. "How would a Samothean know what was sexually alluring to an Earthman?"

"I have no fear on that score, Annela," Mirselene said, crumpling the daisies with a smile, "because nature will surely take its course. My question is what we should do about it?"

"I don't know. I suppose Ezra will prefer one or another of us and want her as his bedmate. If she is willing, then the matter is settled and the rest of us will have to respect his decision."

"Hmm." Mirselene self-consciously fiddled with the top-button of her tunic. "Annela, I expect more ambition from you regarding your tribe and more insight regarding your sisters."

"What do you mean, Madam?"

"I mean, why can't all the Woodlanders be his bedmates? As you say, we all want to be. Think of the benefit to the tribe. Instead of a child every eight years, purchased from the greedy Cloners at great expense of produce and effort, we could all have children by this time next year - supposing him capable of the deed."

"I am sure Ezra is capable," Annela assured her chief. "I've seen his penis swell. It was what I talked to Parvinder about. But I have to wonder ..."

"Yes, Annela?"

"... what if he doesn't want us all? What if he doesn't want any of us?"

"As regards Ezra wanting us all, Annela. ... Well, I've read more than you," Mirselene replied, as someone who spent many months in the Cloner City conceiving and bearing a daughter, where there were dozens of books, including a fictional romance. "I believe it's a man's nature to mate with as many women as he can."

"Really, Mirselene?" Annela was appalled. "Why would he want to?"

Annela knew women from the inside, as it were, and lived in a society of women: she could not see anything so admirable in a woman that a man would ever want to be with more than one, if any at all.

"Are you sure?" Annela asked.

"I think so, but we can ask him."

"How, Madam?"

"How what?"

"How do we ask him? Despite what he's told us, we know little about the sexual morality of Earth. All we know is that his need for privacy is much greater than ours and his sense of decorum much more pronounced. At the feast last night, he resisted saying anything about sex, beyond the social side of marriage and family, and you are keen that we don't offend or discourage him."

"Quite right, hence this conversation."

"You want me to speak to him?"

"Yes, and more."

Annela waited.

"In that romance I read," Mirselene explained, "an injured man fell in love with his nurse despite already loving another woman. He also fell for his secretary ..."

"His secretary?"

"... a women who worked for him in an inferior capacity," Mirselene explained, leaving Annela just as bewildered. "Anyway, it all ended happily because, although the man appeared to act dishonourably, he was really honest all along."

Annela looked blank.

Rather impatiently Mirselene concluded: "The point is that all it took to make the man fall in love with three different women was a pretty face, an elegant figure and some kindness. You have all those virtues, Annela, very much so."

Despite her good sense and twenty-four years, Annela blushed at the compliment.

"You want Ezra to fall in love with me?" she asked.

"I want him to fall in love with us all. I want you to be his guide and take the lead, find out exactly what his views on sex are and tell me how amenable he will be to the agreement I will put to him."

"What agreement?"

"We are a poor tribe, as you know, and have few children. We have saved eight years for another clone and if we need to save even more in the future, then we will surely decline and die out, which would be a disaster for Samothea as much as for the Woodlanders. Who else knows about herbs, weaving or wood-carving like us? But the Cloners cannot see this, though I put it to them many times. They want their luxuries...."

Annela had heard all this before: it was Mirselene's constant refrain, that her tribe was diminishing while the Cloners were getting rich on Woodlander produce. The same increase in the cost of clones had an effect on inter-tribal trade, making the Herders more arrogant and putting up the cost of everything the Mariners sold.

"But the agreement with Ezra?" Annela prompted.

"The agreement is simple: Ezra mates with us all or with none of us, and stays long enough to see that he has impregnated all who can conceive."

Annela thought silently for a minute, then she asked:

"How can we ensure Ezra will keep the agreement if he tires of us and wants to leave?"

"If I am right about male nature, then he won't tire of us so long as we still want him sexually; but even if I am wrong, then nothing is lost and we will possibly get some children from him. Also, he might be like that man in the story, with a sense of honour that can be appealed to."

"I really don't understand, Mirselene, but I will do what you ask. I admit, I would be very happy if it's true that injured men fall in love with their nurses. I like Ezra."

"Good girl. Maybe all it will take is your pretty face - but don't forget to find out his views on mating with us all."

"All?" asked Annela with a smile.

"Well, not me or anyone else who is too old, of course, but all the tribe older than eighteen who still bleed. If Ezra agrees, then they will be his bedmates in turn."

"And if we don't want to be his bedmates?"

"Come now, Annela, be serious! There is only one man on Samothea and every woman on the planet wants children. Besides, which of us would be so unnatural as to want her tribe to diminish when she could simply open her legs for Ezra - especially if her chief tells her to do so?"

Annela had her orders and plenty to think about. She went to undress in her hut and visit the river to bathe. On her way, she met the pigeon-hunters, returning with a dozen birds. Wildchild's grin could not have been wider: she had bagged two of the pigeons herself and was convinced she could have bagged more if she had an adult bow to use. The successful hunters also went to the bathing place and the excitement grew leading up to that night's feast.

There was good humour and good appetites at the feast and many compliments on the roasted pigeon but there was also a feeling of expectation that subdued the usual boisterous chatter. The Woodlanders were going to tell Ezra their story.

It was night and the flickering camp-fire projected merrily-dancing shadows onto the surrounding huts. The platters were cleaned up and though it was still warm, some women went and fetched blankets to wrap themselves up. Pepi fell asleep on her mother's lap and the hubbub died down as Mirselene stood to announce it was time to tell 'The Story of Samothea' to Ezra.

'The Story of Samothea' was a chant with a rhythm and a tune which told how the Founders, the three-hundred scientists and engineers who first landed on Samothea to finish the terraforming process, became the ancestors of the current population of Samothea. The Herders clearly had a slightly different tradition from the Woodlanders because Wildchild and Tamar stood to perform actions along with the chant. The tune, however, was the same. It began:

"In the year 2450 of ancestral Earth, on day fifty-one, the Founders landed on Samothea. One-hundred and seventy-two men and one-hundred and twenty women came from Earth to build a new world. They filled the oceans with fish and the forests and plains with animals and birds. They made houses and roads, digging and building with machines powered by the sun. They travelled long distances in cars and aeroplanes and talked to one another across the globe with radios."

"In the year 2455, on day one-hundred and twenty-nine, the northern star Sothis erupted. We gazed in wonder as the night sky lit up bright like the day."

"In the year 2455, on day one-hundred and thirty-seven, storms blasted the settlements of Samothea. Every machine stopped working. Hail lashed the forest and plain. Ribbons of light whipped across the night sky. A tidal-wave washed our boats up the beach and smothered our houses with sand."

"On day one-hundred and seventy, the storms ceased and calm weather returned but the rain now came at night and was freezing cold."

Wildchild and Tamar, doing the actions, hugged themselves and shivered.

The chant continued, describing how the Founders were cut-off from Earth and the rest of mankind, but bravely organised themselves to survive, until rescue should come or the machines be repaired. But more disasters followed: the women were barren; the men were sterile.

Ezra pieced together a consistent story. It seemed that a nearby star, the one the Samotheans named 'Sothis', was swallowed into a black hole, emitting x-rays followed by a harsh solar wind of cosmic particles. The wave-front from the black hole no doubt caused the violent storms, auroras and ice-cold rain. X-rays or solar wind also fried the circuits in every computer, book-reader, communicator, car, boat, aeroplane, tractor, digger, laser drill and plasma cutter on the planet. In one day, the Founders were thrown back into the stone-age.

Pulses of radiation can interfere with hyperspace pathways. Doubtless they crippled all the robot scouts sent from Earth to investigate the fate of Samothea. Though much weaker now, the same radiation must have frazzled Ezra's navi-comms system and crippled his hyperspace engines, sending him dangerously close to Samothea in his last hyperspace jump.

Snatches of the chant intruded on Ezra's thoughts. Unable to communicate with their orbiting space-ship or with any nearby planet, the Founders devised a plan to survive. They split themselves into six groups, the Tribes, with about fifty members each. They specialised in exploiting particular habitats: sea, plain, river-valley, forest and mountain; plus a group of scientists in what is now the Cloner City, whose task was to try to save or recreate Earth's technology.

Some Founder couples were already married: others paired up with the intention of having children; but they found they were all sterile. Not only people but every mammal was afflicted. Plants and egg-laying animals (fish, insects, reptiles, birds and amphibians) could reproduce normally but all mammals were barren.

The cloning laboratories first set up to populate Samothea with every kind of animal were now employed in cloning only horses, sheep, cattle and people. They soon found that males could not be cloned. The male engineers were the first and only generation of men on Samothea. It must have been an unbearably sad time for the women of Samothea to see their menfolk die off, leaving them to face the future alone.

Another cause of sadness was that life-expectancy plummeted. Under the harsh conditions of Samothea after the catastrophe, the first generation of Earth-born Founders died in their seventies or eighties. The last of the founders had died about fifty years ago. Their clones lived only into their fifties and sixties. A clone will begin life with the burden of years her mother had endured at the time of cloning, so the clone of a twenty-year-old woman will have twenty years cut from end of her life.

At this point, silence interrupted Ezra's thoughts. The chant had finished and Ezra was sorry he had become distracted by his own ideas and not listened as closely as he should have to the more recent parts of the story, which told how the different tribes had fared in the last one-hundred years. But Ezra was thinking about something else: How could he tell the Woodlanders about the first settlement ship?

The women looked expectantly at Ezra. It was his turn to speak.

"Ladies," he began, "the Story of Samothea is beautiful and moving. I can add some details to the story but I fear that, sad as the Story of Samothea is, what I will say will be even sadder."

There was murmuring as the women discussed among themselves, then Mirselene spoke up:

"We Woodlanders are tough people, Ezra, we can bear any amount of bad news. Do not fear to tell us everything you know."

Ezra began with his theory about the nearby black hole and the effects of its radiation. He briefly surveyed the difficult subject of the life-spans of clones. Then he paused again to order his thoughts and continued:

"Five years after the Founders landed on Samothea, the first settlement ship was sent from Earth. It carried five-thousand people. The last anyone ever heard of that settler ship was just before it took its final hyperspace jump to Samothea."

There were a few catches of breath and then silence.

"On board the ship were the farmers, builders, teachers and craftsmen who left Earth with a pioneer's courage, hoping to build a new life beyond the stars. The Settler Company on Earth keeps a list of their names because their property claims are valid for one-hundred years. They were mostly young singles and couples but some were families with children. Some were relatives of those Founders who chose to stay on Samothea, even their wives or husbands, bringing children to join their spouses."

"What happened to the ship?" Mirselene asked.

"I don't know," Ezra admitted, "though the same disrupted hyperspace pathways that steered me into a collision course with Samothea probably deflected the settler ship out of its path as well."

"If they were lucky, they fell straight into a star. They would have felt nothing. If they were unlucky, their ship became stranded somewhere between the stars. Without power, communications or life-support ..."

Ezra trailed off. Death by asphyxiation or freezing in the lonely vacuum of space was too horrible to contemplate. He did not mention a third possibility, that the ship crash-landed on a rocky planet somewhere, even on Samothea itself, and was now a rusting hulk, filled with five-thousand slowly-decaying corpses.

There was horror and sadness at Ezra's words. The women around the camp-fire hugged each other and wept as the enormity of their loss sank in. Their silent tears affected Ezra deeply. His own eyes were moist when he looked up to see Mirselene gathering her dignity, preparing to bring the feast to an end.

"Ladies, the night-rain is almost on us. As you go to sleep tonight, I hope you will think about the poor settlers (no doubt some of them our relatives) and regret their passing; but I hope you will not dwell too much on the sadness of their fate. Rather, we should remember their courage and optimism. Every day we must be strong and brave to survive on our world. We should remember the spirit of those settlers, who took ship to fly across the galaxy, courting unknown dangers and unfortunately succumbing. I feel certain that, if asked 'Would you have taken the risk anyway?' they would all have replied 'Yes! The goal is worth the danger!"

Buoyed up by their chief, the women quietly dispersed to their huts but Mirselene kept Ezra back for a minute. When there was no one in ear-shot, she put her question to him.

"If I understand correctly, Ezra, you came all the way from Earth on your own and were lucky to find us. But if one lone adventurer can make it, is it not possible that others can too?"

"Yes, it is possible but very unlikely."

"But you found your way here, is it really so unlikely that others will follow?"

"Yes, it is Mirselene," Ezra replied. "I took the risk because no one had tried for fifty years. When I do not return and no distress call is received, it will discourage other prospectors. Anyone else who tries to come here either has a very powerful motive or is an idiot."

Mirselene looked relieved for some reason. It puzzled Ezra. Surely the inhabitants of Samothea would want more adventurers to visit, in the hope that permanent contact with Earth might be established and the original plan for the settlement of the planet would resume.

As he went to bed, Ezra thought about the prospect of being rescued. He thought of his little sister, Danielle, an astrophysicist back in England. The problem of navigating along hyperspace pathways disrupted by black holes and exotic matter was bread and butter to her. He got no further than imagining her working on the problem when sleep overcame him. He remained conscious long enough to mumble "good night" to Annela before all went dark.

*******

Back on Earth, Danielle wasn't working on the problem herself but it was being worked on, and successfully. One morning a week, she taught a class of select undergraduates on hyperspace navigation at Trinity College, Cambridge. She was proud of the class, especially of her two top students, Rosa Silverstein and Li Qu Yuan, who always surpassed her expectations.

This week, Danielle asked her students to plot the quickest route through hyperspace from Earth to Samothea. This was normally done by computers because it consisted only of huge number-crunching calculations; but Danielle wanted her students to go back to basics and re-think all the shortcuts they usually allowed the computer to perform for them. She also wanted to reassure herself that Ezra had not taken too great a risk, thinking that five minds were better than one at looking for an anomaly that might turn an otherwise routine hyperspace jump into a fatal disaster.




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 04



Three of the five students did the task the hard way, cautiously sending their virtual space-ship on many short jumps through hyperspace, mechanically cross-referencing their computers' results with the star-maps and records of actual jumps in the region before re-calculating for the next jump: a tedious, routine and, for the most part, entirely reliable process. It was surely what Ezra himself had done.

She did not bother to check these competent but pedestrian results against the star-map because, if the method was sound, then she could assume the calculations would also be right.

One of the two star pupils managed to surprise her, however. Not content with taking baby-steps across the galaxy, Rosa Silverstein wrote a nested sequence of programs to navigate through hyperspace to Samothea in a single leap. This was an absurdly dangerous thing to do because, though a space-ship in hyperspace was invulnerable to impacts from matter, the location at which the ship emerged from hyperspace was minutely sensitive to the matter it by-passed on the way.

Rosa's program began with the main calculation and as soon as an anomaly was encountered, launched a cut-down version of the program to solve the problem quickly and adjust the main program in real time. Then, if the correcting program itself met an anomaly, it would also split off another, even smaller, correcting algorithm. Meanwhile, the original program might meet a second anomaly, so another sequence of corrections would start, running faster than the original. Ultimately, there would be a swarm of programs plotting the trajectory and issuing corrections (and correcting the corrections), each competing to produce the quickest result.

Fifty iterations of the program were necessary to produce the final calculation and when the result was matched with the star-map, Rosa's virtual space-ship was only half a light-year out of place.

Danielle was enchanted with her work.

"It's truly brilliant, Rosa!" she declared. "It's a real innovation, and it has only one problem: ... it won't work. You've posited a micro-ship of only one-hundred tonnes; but the more massive the ship, the quicker the calculations lose accuracy and need correcting. For a thousand-tonne mass, the system would be bogged down by so many corrections that the ship would arrive (and who knows where, precisely?) long before the calculation finished. My guess is that a hundred-tonne space-ship would have fuel enough to go less than a fiftieth of the way there."

Rosa was an earnest girl who had the habit of hooking strands of her dark-brown hair behind her ears when she concentrated hard or was nervous. She did so now.

"Is my program useless, then?" she asked.

"I don't know for sure. It has certainly given me something to think about," Danielle replied. "For example, if it were possible to exchange energy while in hyperspace, then your micro-ship can take on fuel and make course corrections in mid-jump...." Danielle trailed off, frowning as she sat back to think hard.

The class remained silent, waiting. A few minutes later Danielle emerged from her trance, quickly jotted down a few notes on her computer pad, looked around and asked:

"Who's next?"

Only Li Qu Yuan was left to present his solution and he was strangely reticent, bowed over his computer, whispering commands and moving formulas around with a pen.

"Li?" Danielle prompted him.

The boy looked up, embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Doctor Goldrick, I've not finished," he mumbled.

"Well, that's all right," she said, "we've run out of time anyway. You can send me your work later."

She stood to walk around the class, collecting the students' projects on data cubes in case she wanted to double-check their work later.

"Well, this brings the lesson and the term to an end. Next term, Professor Jenkins will be taking an advanced study-group on exotic matter, which I recommend to you all. Thank you for being such good company and working so hard."

There was a murmur of thanks in response and then the class broke up. Only Li remained, locked onto his computer, frowning in an ever-more puzzled way at the display.

Danielle turned to her own computer and started to make notes on her copy of Rosa's program. When she finished, she noticed Li was still there.

"Aren't you going to lunch?" she asked him.

"Er, yes Doctor, presently. May I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"You gave us the star-map co-ordinates but have you seen the latest data from nearby Samothea yourself?"

"As it happens, I looked at the star map for Samothea just four days ago."

"Oh, then it must be a problem with my calculations. ... I'm sorry I didn't complete the task in time."

"That's quite all right. It wasn't an exam and you have done outstanding work this term, more than enough to earn a credit for the course. Please don't worry."

Li wasn't worried about the credit but about the error in his calculations. His virtual ship never reached the Samothean system because some nearby anomaly made the hyperspace pathways impossible to navigate. As Doctor Goldrick said she had checked the star-map four days ago, when the delayed signal from an old probe had last updated it, he assumed she knew of the anomaly and had taken it into account for her's and the others' calculations. It was only Li's original and untested method that failed to calculate the correct route; but he had no idea why.

Unfortunately, Li had been concentrating on his apparent error when Rosa presented her method and he did not pay much attention. It was a shame because, had he understood her work, then, combined with his own, a rescue mission to Samothea might have been possible within the year. As it was, what prevented Li's discovery from coming to the attention of Danielle was love. Danielle's shy and lonely young student was desperately in love with her - as she was desperately in love with her boyfriend, Roger.

Danielle had not seen Roger since that night in her apartment with the ritual of Ezra's letter. He had been visiting another university: she had been busy at her job. They did not live together and they were at that 'honeymoon' stage of the relationship when they ached constantly for each others' touch. Now she was equally excited by Rosa's work and horny for her boyfriend. Sex won. What she wanted more than anything was for Roger to be here, holding her, kissing her, driving his hard cock deep into her.

With Li now gone, Danielle sent Roger a message. His communicator flashed while he was studying in the university library, his blond head a human cupola over a castle of books.

--- I've got an itch --- it read.

--- Where? --- he typed in reply.

--- Where do you think? ---

--- I mean, where are you? ---

--- Trinity College, Astronomy dept., room 4 ---

--- On my way ---

--- Be quick, or I'll take matters into my own hands ---

Roger packed his communicator and reading glasses into his case but left the open books on the table. He hurried out of the library and into the cold wind that blew rain and hail from the North Sea across the fens and into the unprotected faces of hapless Cambridge folk on a dank winter's day. He made his way quickly to Trinity College, passing through the Great Gate with its statue of Henry VIII.

A benefit of the scouring wind, in Roger's opinion, was that it was gradually eroding the face of the gross monarch. He called his ritual greeting to the statue:

"Another hundred years and your face will just be a memory, you syphilitic old bastard!"

A point made for the Good Old Cause, Roger's long legs brought him swiftly to the entrance of the science building, where he caught up with a student. It was Li Qu Yuan, who politely held the door for him. Roger ran inside and sprinted up the stairs, three at a time, finding Danielle's classroom by lust-filled instinct. From the door to her arms was only five good steps, then his mouth was on hers, his arms around her waist.

"I have an itch as well now," he said, his voice rasping. "Where can we go?"

"The broom cupboard, if we're quiet" she whispered.

Roger threw his coat and jacket aside and, kissing wildly, they bundled themselves into the storage room with the quaint anachronistic name. He pushed her against the door, his hard cock upright against her belly. They breathed heavily as they fumbled to loosen their clothes without breaking the kiss. Her skirt soon dropped to the floor, followed by his trousers. The buttons of her blouse were quickly undone and she released her bra. He cupped a warm breast and held its erect nipple between his finger and thumb. With his other hand, he grasped a perfect buttock.

She lifted her leg over his hip and began pushing her pelvis against his, her hands under his shirt, holding his shoulders.

Roger broke the kiss to pull her bra down and take a mouthful of bountiful tit. He suckled joyfully while she moaned with her head held back. He put a hand between her legs and dipped a finger-tip into her slit to feel her moisture. She closed her eyes and dug her nails into his shoulders as he teasingly ran his finger-tip along her labia.

With his fingers nicely lubricated, he began to rub circles on her clitoris to match the circles he was licking on her nipple. She moaned deep in her throat, making pelvic thrusts in a slow rhythm. He started sucking on her other tit and sped up rubbing her clit, now dragging his fingers across from side to side.

She closed her eyes and held him tightly.

"Oh, God! Roger. I need your cock," she whispered.

What she got was his finger pushed all the way into her vagina, his thumb still diddling her clitoris.

"Oh, God!"

He turned up his finger-tip and thrust at double speed. Danielle had been horny for days but not sought any relief. It was no wonder she came so quickly. "Oh! Fuck!" she cried and went weak at the knee. Roger didn't stop working on her pussy, however, and pretty soon she had the electrical sensation again on her clit and in her vagina. She collapsed, juddering. Roger had to let her breast go to hold her up.

She recovered quickly and they kissed again. He hooked her leg back over his hip. She helped him position his taut cock against her soaking vulva. They pushed together and she sighed with the pleasure of being filled up at last.

They fucked standing, trying but failing to remain silent. He thrust deeply into her and she met his every thrust. Her tight muscles massaged his cock, giving her the delightful sensation of being stretched. His heavy breathing and her sweet moans filled the cupboard as they rose toward their peaks. He thrust faster, pushing Danielle's back hard against the door with every long energetic stroke.

They didn't care now who heard them but it was a race to the finish line. The door rattled on its hinges in the final frenzied minute of fucking, as they banged each other hard to reach a shuddering moment of climax together. His cock throbbed as he squirted his juice deep into her pulsating snatch. Breathing heavily in unison, their hearts thumped in their chests.

Winding down from their peaks was sweet and tender. He held her tightly and whispered the same words of love he had grunted incoherently while they screwed.

They dressed each other slowly and did their best to straighten Danielle's hair before peaking out from the slightly-opened door to see if they could leave the broom cupboard unobserved.

In the classroom, she collected her books and he picked up his coat and jacket. Danielle noticed a data cube next to her computer. Thinking she must have forgotten to put it away before, she flung it into her bag and, taking Roger's arm, they left the classroom, hoping no one would notice the glow of satisfaction on their faces. Outside, on the steps of the college entrance, they kissed chastely and Roger returned to the library while Danielle went back to her job.

The data cube was not Danielle's but belonged to her student, Li. After the class, he had gone to the refectory to think about his program over a cup of coffee. He was convinced his program worked but knew it was unlikely that both Rosa and Dr. Goldrick had the wrong results. The small part of Rosa's presentation he had heard was the fact that her ship emerged from hyperspace about half-a-light-year from Samothea. Given his method and data, that was impossible.

Li struggled with the problem, running the program over and again on his computer and then gave it up. He decided he would hand Dr. Goldrick his project complete with its errors. Maybe she could tell him where he had gone wrong. He left the refectory and crossed the quad back to the science building, holding the door open for a tall man in a rain-coat, who rushed into the building and ran up the stairs. Li followed at a slower pace, going over in his mind what he was going to say to Dr. Goldrick.

The one thing really he wanted to say was "I love you" but he didn't know how. It was not that he feared rejection or even being laughed at. He knew she wouldn't laugh at him, comical though his love might seem to her. What he feared was that she would be kind and understanding; that she would pat his cheek and say "You're very sweet, but ..." as though he were only an infatuated teenager. If only he could make her see what he was like inside, then she would know he was worthy of adoring her; that he, more than anyone, understood her brilliance, worshipped her perfection and fully deserved her.

When he got to the classroom, it was empty, except for her coat, bag, books and computer out on a desk. There was also a man's coat and jacket idly discarded on another desk. This worried him. Li was too shy to call out her name but he thought it would be polite to wait for her to come back. He placed his data cube beside her computer on the desk and sat on a stool.

Presently he thought he heard noises: high-pitched moans and low-pitched grunts. It was coming from behind the door at the end of the room. Despite his shyness, Li approached the door and listened. He heard Danielle's ecstatic cry "Oh! Fuck!" and a man's voice as well. In embarrassment, shame and anger, he grabbed his coat and bag and ran along the corridor, down the stairs and into the quad, where cold wind and rain soothed his boiling face. Nothing, however, would lift the stone he felt crushing his heart.

********

Next morning, Ezra awoke with his usual erection. This time Annela was in the hut, waiting for him to rise.

"Good morning," she said brightly. "Would you like to go for a walk this morning?"

"Yes, I'd like that," he murmured sleepily. Ezra had not yet regained all his strength and was still drowsy in the mornings.

"Good. I'm going to delegate my chores and fetch us some food. I'll be back soon."

Ezra dozed for a few minutes, then swung himself out of bed and struggled on with his trousers.

Annela had at last decided to obey Mirselene and get Wildchild and Tamar to do her work while she spent her time with Ezra. The girls agreed because they liked Annela and because she nursed Ezra so well: they had a proprietary interest in Ezra and approved of anyone who cared for him. They made short work of helping Erin clear the ash from the camp-fire and lay new logs for the next night.

Ezra managed a private moment at the crapper and was ready for his walk when Annela returned with a basket of provisions, which he insisted on carrying. He bent down for her to hook the basket over his shoulders and they wandered off into the forest.

They walked in silence at first, enjoying the sounds of the forest as the birds woke up and announced their importance. When Annela began to talk, it was simply to make conversation. She wondered if the plants and animals on Samothea had the same names as on Earth. Ezra knew something about wildlife and thought the names were the same, though there was a greater variety of wildlife on Earth.

One major difference between an Earth forest and a Samothean one, he added, was the age of the trees. Here, there were no trees older than one-hundred and twenty years and the forest looked like a plantation, with trees evenly-spaced in rows. He described the forests of Earth, some of them so thick with trees they were impenetrable, and the forest giants: ancient trees hundreds of feet high and dozens of feet in girth. It amazed Annela, who found it hard to imagine trees so great.

As they walked, they passed trees that the Woodlanders has felled, many of which were now slowly-rotting moss-covered corpses. Others had lost only their bark and a few of them were still-fresh victims of a strange butchery that left most of the trunk intact but robbed them of their branches. After an hour, they decided they were hungry, so they sat on a convenient tree-trunk and fished seed-filled biscuits, apples and salted pigeon wrapped in leaves from the basket for a hearty breakfast.

Comfortable on the log, Ezra waited for Annela to tell him the reason she had brought him on this walk. It must be something important and probably delicate, he thought, because otherwise why not tell him when they were alone in her hut?

Annela also realised it was time to speak but she hadn't the faintest idea how to carry out her plan to seduce Ezra. Were he a woman, it would be simple for her to know if there was any attraction between them. Maybe they would sit and work together. The conversation would become intimate and she would know by what they revealed to each other whether they could be more than friends. Or they would brush each others' hair at the bathing place and she could tell by how she was touched what the other woman felt about her. But with a man, it was a complete mystery. There were no guide-lines, no shared code.

Ezra seemed happy to help her weave but he clearly did not want to share intimate details of his personal life. As for touching each other: it was strictly as nurse and patient. She could not read anything into it and wondered if men do not respond to subtle signals. Or maybe the signals the Woodlander women were giving to Ezra were not subtle enough.

It was a puzzle; but, as it was Mirselene's plan, Annela intended to use that devious woman's method and approach the subject from an oblique direction, rather than head-on as her own honest nature would normally have counselled. She started speaking.

"Ezra, do you know what bedmates are?"

"No."

"It's when two people share a bed at night. It's mostly for warmth but many bedmates are also lovers."

Light dawned on Ezra: he leapt to the obvious conclusion.

"Oh, God! Annela. I had no idea I had displaced your lover. I'll move out, of course. Wildchild and Tamar have a tent. I can borrow that and sleep under one of the awnings."

"Oh, Ezra! I didn't mean that at all! I have no bedmate. I was only trying to tell you about the customs of Samothea."

She smiled ruefully to herself and thought it would be the last time she tried to use Mirselene's roundabout methods.

"I understand," he said, not understanding. "Sorry to jump to the wrong conclusion."

Now Annela was in a fix. She had planned to lead up to the question of whom Ezra would choose as his bedmate and then tell him that all the Woodlanders would gladly accept him, herself especially; but now she did not know what to say. Luckily, Ezra filled the silence, saying:

"I'm surprised you don't have a bedmate."

Having failed with Mirselene's method, Annela reverted to her usual simple honesty.

"I've had bedmates before. I don't have one at the moment."

"I see. So tell me more about bedmates."

"Well, a girl usually stays with her mother until she is eighteen, then she can choose a bedmate. I stayed with my mother until I was nineteen, when Dipti invited me to join her. I had always liked Dipti and I was curious. My mother encouraged me and so Dipti and I became bedmates. We were bedmates for about a year."




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 04



"On Earth, there are marriages, long-term relationships and casual relationships;" Ezra said, "and lots of heartbreak and jealousy because of them. Is the bedmate custom like that? Do lovers break up and reconcile? Is there jealousy?"

"There are all of those things, though we are such a small tribe, large fights would threaten the whole community, so we manage to contain our jealousy. Mirselene has a keen eye and manages to quell most squabbles before they develop into serious disagreements with a quiet word to one or both parties. Sometimes a nudge or a hint from Casti or Parvinder will do the trick as well. I don't believe anyone was ever jealous of Dipti and me. Also, Urulla and I were bedmates for a few weeks early this year. When we broke up, she and Dipti became bedmates and I was happy for them both."

Ezra remained silent, wondering if she planned telling him any more. It was clearly the right thing to do.

"I've had three bedmates in all," she continued: "In between Dipti and Urulla, I shared a hut with Erin. She was a great comfort to me after my mother died."

Ezra waited for her to continue but she looked down at her feet and said nothing.

"Don't answer if it's painful for you," he said, "but I noticed there is a gap in ages between Mirselene and Casti where I assumed your mother ought to have been. Won't you tell me what happened?"

She looked up at him, smiling sadly.

"My mother's name was Freya and she was the sweetest, gentlest woman I've ever known. Everyone loved her and she was devoted to the Woodlanders. When she was young, the Mariners tried to entice her away but she was loyal to our tribe and stayed. It troubled her when the Cloners became so distant and then the Herders became aggressive."

"She fell ill when I was twenty. She had pain in her stomach and none of our medicines helped her. When our treatments no longer even dulled the pain, she agreed to go to the Cloner City for help. Mirselene had to stay but Casti, Dipti, Dagma and I started on the journey. Mum had declined quickly and we couldn't go fast. Normally it's four days to the Cloner City but, at Mum's speed, it would be at least eight days; and when we had to carry her, it was even slower."

Annela's eyes filled with tears as she told the story.

"We weren't even half-way there when Mum asked to be let down. She didn't want to go any further. She just wanted to sleep."

"We set up a tent to shield her from the sun and made her comfortable. She died later that night, in my arms. I wept for days."

She was weeping now, the tears ran in streams down her cheeks and Ezra's heart broke for her. He laid his hand gently on her shoulder. She grasped it and looked up at him, seeing a face filled with concern and sympathy. She put her arms around him, laying her head against his chest. She had never held a man before but some ancient instinct told her there was real comfort here. He hugged her to him.

It was a completely non-sexual embrace that made her feel warm and protected. She had not felt as safe as this since her mother died. She held him tight as she wept in memory of her mother.

When her tears ran out she looked up at him and smiled. He let her go. There was more to say.

"I don't think the Cloners could have done anything," Annela admitted, "but Mirselene was very angry on my behalf. In the old days, the Herders might have taken Mum to the Cloner City by horse but since all this distrust between the tribes began, we haven't been able to contact them directly. Sometimes I think Mirselene is too insular and blames the other tribes too much; but then I remember how she felt about my Mum and I understand."

Annela wiped tears from her cheeks and smiled.

"As you can see, I'm not quite over Mum's death. But that's why I broke it off with Dipti. We had a wonderful year together. Dipti is very romantic and passionate but she could not comfort me. I felt guilty about leaving Mum and I didn't want to be reminded of it, so I moved back into Mum's hut. Dipti understood and waited for me but, really, I knew I was never going back to her."

"Erin was very sympathetic. She helped me and I loved her but she had Carlin to raise, so again I preferred to be on my own. Then last year, Urulla turned eighteen. She came to me and offered to be my bedmate. I was flattered, especially when everyone smiled and looked happy for us, but my heart really wasn't in it and I know Urulla could tell, though she never said anything. Anyway, she and Dipti found each other and I think they make the perfect couple."

There was nothing Ezra could say but she would remember the sympathy on his face and the warmth of the embrace.

They walked back to the camp in silence. Annela had failed to seduce Ezra this time, nor find out his opinion on mating with all the fertile Woodlanders; but she had learned something about how chivalrous men treat vulnerable women. She had also given him plenty to think about.

Ezra had fallen for his lovely nurse on his second day as her patient. He had wanted to kiss her all that morning and hoped for his chance on the walk; but Annela's sad tale prevented him. He wasn't a man to take advantage of a woman in distress.

Back at the camp, they met up with the girls. Tamar and Carlin were full of talk about Wildchild's feat of strength that morning; how she had lifted the bucket of ash on her own, though it usually took two people to carry it. Ezra shared in the praise but was not surprised. He remembered how he had been able to lean on Wildchild when the girls rescued him from the sea and he could barely stand, let alone walk.

Later that afternoon, Annela set up her loom under the awning and gave Ezra the ball of twine to hold. He helped her weave until it was time to prepare for the feast. She went to wash at the pool and brought a bucket of water back to the hut for him: Ezra was not quite ready to expose himself in his underwear to the entire tribe.

Annela waited outside the hut, drying off in the afternoon sun as Ezra washed. She wore her long shirt instead of her smock but left off the peasant skirt for now, letting the sun bathe her legs. When Ezra was done, she came in to take the bucket back and noticed him rubbing his bad arm.

"What's wrong?"

"I've got an itch."

"Where?"

"My elbow."

"All right. Let me see to it."

She sat him on the bed and undressed his bandage. The skin on his elbow had begun to dry out. Taking her mortar and pestle to the tall bamboo cabinet by the entrance, she crushed a handful of soft leaves with nut oil and eucalyptus. Ezra watched her work, admiring her perfectly-carved legs and her pert breasts outlined by the simple shirt. The setting sun glinted off her long hair. He was enchanted and felt the strongest stirrings yet of desire for her.

She brought over the lotion and applied it to his arm with a gentle caressing motion. It quickly soothed the itch in Ezra's arm, while inflaming another itch elsewhere. She stopped applying the lotion.

"That's so much better, thanks," he said to fill the silence.

She nodded and knelt down to replace the bandage. As she leant over to tie the sling around his neck, her small firm breasts pressed against his chest and he could feel her hot breath on his cheek. As she finished and pulled away, their eyes met, his hungry dark-blue eyes looking deeply into her calm light-blue eyes. She lowered her gaze, blushing pink on her face and neck. Ezra could stand no more tension: he pulled her back into him and kissed her.

Annela didn't know what to do. Her mind was filled with contrary thoughts. She had never kissed a man before. Was she doing it right? Would it put him off if she was not a good kisser? Was he kissing her from sympathy because of what she told him that morning? Was it the nurse-effect, as Mirselene described from her soppy novel, so he might reject her when he was healed and no longer needed her care? Or did he really care for her?

In her confused state, she neither pulled away nor kissed him back, keeping her arms at her sides. Ezra read her hesitation as a refusal.

"I'm sorry, Annela, but you're so beautiful," his words were gentle and sincere. "I couldn't help myself. Please forgive me?"

This confused Annela just as much. She blushed again and scolded herself for blushing. It was good that he had kissed her. It was what she was supposed to make happen. Even more, it was what she wanted! She liked the warmth of his lips on hers and the pressure of his arm around her waist. She wanted that feeling again.

"Of course I forgive you, Ezra. Please will you kiss me again? I wasn't ready."

Ezra took this explanation in the same philosophical spirit as he had taken her apparent rejection and kissed her again. Now she kissed him back, putting her arms around his neck.

She was a good kisser, eager and responsive, opening her mouth to brush the tip of her tongue against his. At first, she hadn't liked his beard, which was long enough to tickle her. Then she decided she did like it because it made his face so different from a woman's. She put a hand on his cheek to caress the stubble. That first kiss seemed to open a flood-gate. Now Annela wanted to kiss him all the time.

Trying out various positions, seeking ways to be comfortable on the bed or in the chair without putting weight on Ezra's damaged arm, they found the best way to kiss was if she sat sideways on his lap on the chair and he put his good arm around her waist. They kissed like that until it was time for the feast.

Annela left Ezra to eat with Erin and Casti. She thought it was important not to keep him to herself too much, and so he talked to many of the Woodlanders, especially Sharne, who brought Pepi to say goodnight, and Urulla, who was fascinated by the growth of his beard and wondered if it hurt him.

That night Annela climbed over Ezra to lie against his good side on the bed. They slept together innocently. As she cuddled him, Ezra hoped his erection would go down enough to allow him to sleep. At least he was on his back.

His sexual interest in Annela was prominent again next morning when she kissed him awake. It was already light and she had been up for half-an-hour. As she leaned over him, a shaft of sunlight made a halo of her strawberry blonde hair, dappling her pink cheek. He pulled her onto him for a long passionate kiss. After this, he was anxious to get her alone in real privacy but they were called to breakfast and he did not have her to himself again until they went for another walk that morning.

As they left the camp, passing through the meadow where Bessie the cow grazed opposite small allotments of growing turnips and potatoes, four of the curious eyes that watched them belonged to Casti and Parvinder, two of the matrons who had done the cooking, still sitting by the stove.

"Can I guess what you're thinking?" Casti asked her companion.

"I expect so," Parvinder replied.

"You're thinking that Mirselene ought to make an announcement soon about those two or there will be dreadful jealousy in the camp."

"It's obvious what Mirselene's plan is, so why not allay jealousy by telling us? But, actually, that wasn't what I was thinking."

"No? Then you're worried about Dipti?"

"I am. We both know that Mirselene wants at least a dozen naturally-born children; but I'm not sure she has considered everything. We don't have any experience of giving birth here: the Cloners have the medical text-book and lots more knowledge of childbirth. My Dipti is thirty-three now. Why take more risk than we need? I'd even be worried for your Urulla."

"Yes, though she is strong and younger than I was when I had her," Casti agreed, "yet I will worry about her. I can also predict Mirselene's answer. She will say that to contact the Cloners means to reveal the existence of Ezra and attract the interest, even the violence, of the other tribes. Or maybe the Cloners will help deliver our babies only if Ezra agrees to go to them. Perhaps she is right to distrust the other tribes and seek to remain hidden in our forest."

"So what can we say to her?"

"The only idea I have had is to remind Mirselene that, if we don't buy a clone this year or next from the Cloners, then they will surely enquire about our prosperity and maybe raise suspicions among the other tribes, who could pay us an unexpected visit. It's unlikely, but if she agrees, then Dipti is the obvious choice to go to the Cloner city."

"It's an idea, Casti, but I cannot see Mirselene agreeing. Do you think if we opposed Mirselene, we would get a majority?"

"No, I don't, and I have no intention of opposing her. We will have to solve the problem another way."

The discussion ended there and the women went about their chores, dissatisfied by the fact that, though Ezra's appearance was a wonderful boon to the tribe, he brought problems with him, including no doubt some they were yet to discover.

The question of sex had come up as soon as Ezra arrived in the Woodlander camp. It could hardly be avoided in such a small, isolated community. Any visitor was a welcome change from routine. A visitor from ancestral Earth was an object of fascination. When the visitor was also a man, in a society of mostly childless women whose dearest wish was a child, then it was a wonder he hadn't been pounced on and ravished by the whole tribe, young and old.

Annela pounced on Ezra late that morning but she didn't ravish him. Exactly the opposite.

They had often stopped on their walk to kiss, sometimes standing, sometimes sitting on a fallen tree and, finally, when the warmth of the day had dried out the undergrowth, lying on an impromptu mattress of ferns. As soon as he sat down o the ferns, she pounced on him, knocking him flat on his back. Then she took up her favourite position, lying on his chest, her legs astride his waist, her hands stroking his scruffy beard.

Occasionally she would kiss him and sometimes she put her hands under his shirt to feel the hairs on his chest, but mostly they just chatted. For a while, she lay with her head on his chest, listening to his heart beat, enjoying the rise and fall of his breathing. She also liked feeling his hard cock against her stomach and the groaning noise he made as she occasionally rubbed herself against it.

Kissing was all they did, however. Ezra urgently wanted to make love to Annela and although she seemed to return his feelings, for some reason she resisted anything more than kissing. She liked it when he held her by the waist or put his hand on her cheek or in her hair but if he touched her breast, thigh or bottom, she would pull back or move his hand away.

It was like making out with a shy virgin who insisted he 'behave himself'. It reminded him of his adolescence, of an endless summer when, aged sixteen, he and his first girlfriend would kiss for hours and he would relieve his frustration by marathon sessions of masturbation when he got home (if he hadn't already ejaculated in his pants).

It was similar now because it was hot, there was not much for him to do and there was a pretty girl to make out with; but he wasn't an adolescent any more and he saw no reason at all to endure sexual frustration. His sexual frustration had peaked at that moment because, as they kissed, she was grinding her pelvis into his cock. It was too much for Ezra to bear, whose balls were aching and no doubt turning blue. He pulled her head up and said:

"Annela, please will you take your weight off my cock?"

She laughed. "You call it your 'cock'? Like Adam?"

Adam was the Woodlander's rooster, a noisy disturbance in the camp, especially in the morning.

"Yes."

"All right." She moved down his body.

"I need to tell you something about male physiology."

"Go ahead," she said, putting her hands on his chest to rest her chin on them. She gazed into his eyes, happy expectation written on her face.

"It's to do with what you're doing to me."

"What's that?"

"Arousing me. Making me horny."

"Ooh! I like that word, 'horny'."

"Well, when a man gets horny, semen gets pumped into his balls."

"Semen!" she exclaimed, rolling off him to sit up and snap her fingers. "That's the word Parvinder couldn't remember."

"All right, then you know what it is."

"Yes, and I know what 'balls' are: they are testes." She had the enthusiasm of a star pupil.

"Well, semen builds up in the testes and, if a man keeps getting aroused for a day or more without a release, then they can become painful."

"I had no idea. Do they hurt now?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry. What do you mean, 'a release'?"

"Sexual intercourse or masturbation."

"Masturbation?"

"Jerking off."

"Oh, wanking."

He smiled wryly at what old English slang had survived on Samothea.

"So I need to know, Darling, am I doomed to frustration or will you have sex with me?"

"You want to have sex just because your balls hurt?" She pretended to be outraged but the feline glint in her eyes betrayed her amusement.

"No; I want to have sex because, well, because I do - but it would also be a good thing for my aching balls."

"Well, hard luck! I'm not having sex with you until I get Mirselene's agreement."

Ezra was appalled and struggled to sit up himself.

"You won't sleep with me without Mirselene agreeing?"

"I don't need her permission!" she exclaimed. "I mean that Mirselene wants an agreement from you."

"What agreement?"

"About your role in the tribe."

"What role? Why do I need a role in the tribe?"

"I will explain but, first, I want to ask you something: ... Which of us would you take as bedmate?"

"You, of course."

"Besides me."

"Well, I don't know. I don't know any of them as well as you."

"What about Sharne? She's strong and kind. I know you like her."

"I like her very much. I even admit I fancy her; but she's not you."

For some reason, this did not seem to be the answer Annela wanted.

"How about Dipti?"

"She's sweet and pretty but didn't you tell me that she and Urulla are bedmates?"

"They are, but Urulla wouldn't object. Nor would Dipti mind if you and Urulla were bedmates."

Ezra's face showed his confusion.

"By the way, what about Urulla?" she asked.

"A lovely girl but neither Dipti nor Urulla are my choice."

"And Dagma? You may not think she's the prettiest of us, but she is very intelligent and unfailingly generous. She would make a lovely bedmate."

Ezra's first answer snagged in his mind as his mental gears changed.

"Dagma is kind? This is a woman who has neither spoken to me nor smiled. She only ever scowls!"

"She's shy, Ezra. You'll never know as gentle and submissive a woman as she."

"You're talking about Dagma? Mirselene's daughter? Your formidable chief's clone! Don't you have regular heredity here on Samothea?"

"Of course we do! Mirselene is gentle and kind as well. It's just her position in our tribe that makes her seem abrupt and controlling."

Ezra let that absurdity pass.

"Annela, you have left someone out. Erin is a very handsome woman. I think I prefer her to everyone, except you."

"Oh, Ezra!" She exclaimed with enthusiasm, holding his arm. "Erin is the best of us all. If anyone deserves the only man on Samothea as bedmate, it is she. ... But, unfortunately, it would mean you couldn't have Carlin when she comes of age."

This stumped Ezra.

"Darling, will you please tell me what this is all about? Why do you want me to choose another woman as a bedmate when I want only you?"

Annela paused for a few seconds.

"Unfortunately, it seems Mirselene was wrong about male nature."

"In what way?"

"She thought a man would take as many bedmates as he can, but you insist you don't want more than one."

"Is this what all this is about?" Light dawned on Ezra. "You weren't asking me if I preferred Sharne or Dipti instead of you but as well as you?"




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 04



She nodded. He paused a minute to reflect.

"Well, to be completely honest, Mirselene is quite right. Most men would take as many bedmates as they can. On Earth, men distinguish between love and sex much more readily than do women. Many men say they love their wives but think sex with other women is all right if it's not for love."

"And you?"

"I have always been a one-woman man. I have never cheated in a relationship. But I haven't had many relationships and outside a committed relationship, I'm like most men."

"Meaning?"

"We have a saying on Earth: a woman needs a reason to have sex but a man just needs the opportunity. When it's not cheating, I don't pass up the opportunity."

"I understand. So if Mirselene were to ask you to join our tribe on condition you take all the fertile Woodlanders as bedmates, you would consider it?"

"As a man, I would; but as your lover, I think it would feel odd."

Smiling to herself, she stored the word 'lover' at the back of her mind.

"Even if it was what I wanted?" she asked.

"Yes, that's the thing that would feel odd. Most Earthwomen would demand to be exclusive."

"But, surely, if you had something wonderful, you would want to share it with your friends, wouldn't you?"

"No, I wouldn't! If you were the only woman in a world of men and I had the good luck to be your bedmate, I would never want you to take other bedmates. The jealousy would destroy me! I would never share anything so precious with another man."

He paused, then continued. "Men are different from women in this. Some cultures on Earth practise polygamy but it is almost always multiple wives, almost never multiple husbands."

"So, consider us your wives and take us all!"

Ezra could not tell if this was a test or a serious suggestion. She sounded sincere and, despite his genuine belief in exclusive relationships, he was sorely tempted.

"Is this Mirselene's agreement: all or nothing?"

"Yes."

"I will consider it. ... Meanwhile, tell me why have you been fending me off? Why not seduce me into accepting Mirselene's agreement?"

"But I thought I was seducing you!" Annela exclaimed.

Ezra laughed. Not the wry chuckles she had heard him make so often in the last few days, but a real laugh, a sound of pure joy and release.

"Darling, that may be how you seduce a woman, with teases and a slow build-up, always keeping the pot simmering, but men are much simpler. Give us what we want and we are putty in your hands."

"Well, you can't have what you want."

"No?"

"Not until I get Mirselene's agreement."

"You're serious? You and I can be bedmates only if I agree to be bedmates with all the other Woodlanders?"

"All the fertile ones, yes."

"You really want this?"

"I do."

He thought again for a minute. After all, it should be an easy decision. It was every man's fantasy, wasn't it? Also, in Ezra's defence, it was largely Annela's fault that, at that moment, he was thinking with his cock.

"All right, then," he said at last. "I agree."

"Darling, that's wonderful! Let's go back to camp and tell Mirselene!"

"No, let's stay here and make love. Remember my aching balls!"

She laughed. "Don't worry, one way or another you'll get your relief but it wouldn't be fair on everyone else for us to have sex before Mirselene has made her announcement at tonight's feast."

"You Woodlanders have very strange customs," he said. "However, I will abide by the rules for your sake. You understand what I'm saying, don't you?"

"I hope so," she said and knelt in front of him to kiss him again before insisting they return to the camp, to inform Mirselene and prepare for the feast. As the ache in his balls would only get worse if they made out more, Ezra complied.

Mirselene saw them from her seat on the dais as they emerged from the trees and looked on them with a fondness that turned to delight when they came straight over to her and Annela said there was something they had to announce.

"Come into my hut. We can be private," Mirselene invited.

In the hut, Annela said, "Madam, we have good news."

"Excellent. Well done child."

She turned to Ezra to address him formally:

"Ezra Goldrick. I have to ask you some questions."

He nodded.

"Will you take all the fertile Woodlanders as bedmates and try to conceive children with them? Will you stay with the Woodlanders until all those who can conceive have done so? Will you perform your share of the chores the tribe requires?"

"I will," he replied.

"Good. I will make an announcement at tonight's feast."

Contented and relieved for her tribe, Mirselene sent them away.

Ezra went to find Tamar and Wildchild, now completely inseparable from Carlin and usually accompanied by Pepi when in the camp. He liked to know what the girls had been doing each day. Apparently, they had helped Sharne and Dagma cut saplings and strip bark. Tomorrow they would tie the stakes together for fencing and awnings. Also, Sharne had given a full-sized bow to Wildchild and made her an arm-strap, to stop the recoiling string hitting her near the elbow. Wildchild had a large bruise there which Sharne had noticed. Typically, Wildchild had not complained, though it must have been painful.

Wildchild and Carlin went off to practise archery while Ezra stayed with Tamar and Pepi. He helping Tamar with the obscure words in the history book while Pepi sat on his lap and read about farm animals until it was time to go and bathe in preparation for the feast.

When Annela went to the river she struggled not to share her secret with the other women. As usual, she brought back a bucket of water so Ezra could wash in her hut after she had dressed and gone to help with the feast.

There was jollity that night but no great sense of expectation. Annela and Ezra sat together but did not speak much. They mostly looked down. Seeing this, Parvinder and Casti shared a conspiratorial nod; but no one else seemed to notice.

Soon after the Woodlanders had finished eating, Mirselene stood up and tapped her plate with her spoon to demand silence.

"Ladies," she said, "I have wonderful news for you: Ezra has agreed to become a Woodlander. Our rules allow everyone a say on who can join the tribe so, before we decide, I'd like to give you my reason for approving his adoption. ... Ezra has agreed to take every fertile Woodlander in turn as his bedmate!"

She allowed some minutes for discussion, which sounded like general approval. When the hubbub died down, she continued:

"I'd also like to invite Wildchild and Tamar to join our tribe."

The same approving hubbub rose up.

"Ladies, take your time to discuss your decisions, then I will ask for your votes."

The discussion started in earnest. No one stood up to address the whole tribe but small conclaves of woman established themselves, particularly mothers conferring with their daughters. Parvinder spoke passionately to Dipti, while Casti quietly listened to Urulla, holding her hand. Mirselene smiled encouragement at her daughter, Dagma, who remained stony-faced and Lenta and Sharne whispered together, with Lenta nodding often. Some of the Woodlanders then conferred with each other. The three adolescent girls watched all this with wide-eyed interest.

Eventually Mirselene decided there had been enough discussion and it was time to make a decision.

"Raise your hands all those in favour of Ezra joining the tribe," she ordered.

A forest of hands went up.

"All those against raise your hands."

There was no visible dissent.

"All those in favour of adopting Wildchild and Tamar into the tribe?"

At least the same number of hands were raised.

"Against?"

As no hands were seen, Mirselene addressed the girls:

"Wildchild, Tamar, would you like to join us?"

The girls whispered together for a moment then Tamar said: "We would like to join you but we also want to go to the White Mountains."

"You are free to stay as long as you like and to come back whenever you like. We will always help you as much as we can," Mirselene assured them.

"Then we accept, thank you."

"Good! The decision is made: we all welcome Tamar, Wildchild and Ezra to the tribe!"

A cheer reverberated from the huts to the trees, followed by the demand for a speech. The demand persisted until Ezra reluctantly stood up. He beckoned to Wildchild and Tamar, who came and stood by him. Tamar said something to Ezra and he nodded.

"Madam," he said, addressing Mirselene in her seat of honour on the dais, "Ladies," he bowed to the Woodlanders seated around the camp-fire. "Wildchild, Tamar and I are honoured to be adopted into the tribe. We have been touched by your kindness and generosity, which we hope we can repay in the future."

There was a cheer for this speech. Wildchild and Tamar sat down.

"As for me," Ezra continued, "I want to tell my future bedmates how happily I look forward to performing my duty. I take on the task willingly. I say this for my own benefit. I don't want you to think I feel it as an obligation rather than a delight. I think all the Woodlanders are beautiful and sexy, so it will be my most profound pleasure to try to get as many of you pregnant as I can."

This short speech, pompous but sincere, was welcomed with a lusty cheer by the younger Woodlanders, flattered to be thought desirable by the only man on the planet. The older women enjoyed it too, some making vulgar comments about Ezra's capacity to satisfy so many eager women.

Mirselene beckoned the three new members of the tribe to her seat and welcomed them with kisses on the lips. Then the other Woodlanders greeted Ezra and the girls. There was general joy and everyone thought the ceremony was over, but Mirselene stood and demanded silence again.

"Ladies, I am assuming you all agree to be Ezra's bedmates." There was silence, which Mirselene took as consent. "So it's time to assign Ezra's first bedmate."

By this time Annela had returned to Ezra's side and held his hand tightly as she waited expectantly, but Ezra was outraged.

"What does she mean?" he whispered to Annela. "I agreed to have sex with all the young Woodlanders but I agreed only for your sake. I had no idea I would be told in what order."

"Shush!" Annela said, "It's how we have to do things, to avoid jealousy."

Ezra was not mollified but he had given his word and would do his duty. After all the build up, however, assigning Ezra's first official bedmate was abrupt and unceremonious. Mirselene turned to Annela and asked:

"When did your last period end, child?"

"Six days ago, Madam."

"Good, then it's perfect timing. You and Ezra are bedmates this month. We all hope your mating will be fruitful."

There was a final cheer. Drums were brought out, which Sharne and Erin played while all the younger women danced and the older women clapped along. In the middle of the dancing, Ezra and Annela slipped quietly away. Not long afterward, the cold wind announced the arrival of the night rain.

As Mirselene ordered the drums put away and the feast broke up, Ezra and Annela were in her hut, kissing madly: she, from the joy of anticipation; he, from relief that it was Annela and not someone else.

It was mostly dark in the hut but some flickers from the camp fire infiltrated through gaps between the slats, making deep-red shadows on the bed and in Annela's long hair.

She sat on his lap on the chair and pushed her tongue into his mouth. Now she didn't mind him putting his hand under her shirt to cup a tit. It made her hum in her throat and lean more into him, arching her back. He brushed his thumb and forefinger over the pert upturned nipple, feeling it grow hard.

He wanted to suck her tits now, God! he wanted to fuck her hard, but, despite the ache in his balls, Ezra was slow and gentle, taking his lead from her, not wanting to do anything to put her off.

It was all so different, here in the tropical forest on Samothea, where the Woodlanders made love with teasing caresses, gentle strokes of the fingers, a light touch of the lips or a faint blow of warm breath on the neck. It built up arousal slowly. It was loving but it was also frustrating.

Annela liked the warmth of his hand on her tit. She wanted more contact and leant back to slip off her shirt. She undid his shirt slowly, loosening the sling on his arm and tying it back up afterward. Then she leant her body full against his, feeling the warmth of his skin against hers.

The patter of the night rain began now, heralding a drop in temperature and dowsing the camp fire. The air of the hut would stay warm, however, heated by their two passionate bodies.

She put her fingers in his chest-chair while they kissed. It still fascinated her.

Ezra roamed his good hand from her neck down to her buttocks and back to her tits, stroking her soft skin with his finger-tips then caressing lightly with his hand flat on her waist or back, returning to her tits, always her tits.

She broke the kiss to put her lips on his neck and gently kiss along his collar bone, from one shoulder to the other, while he lightly brushed her hair off her back and ran a gentle thumb up her spine. She liked when he slipped his hand under the band of her skirt to fondle her bottom and got up to take the skirt off.

She sat back on his lap to kiss him on the mouth again and squirmed prettily as he caressed her buttocks. He pulled away to kiss along her jaw to her neck and then down her throat and back up to her mouth again. He was working toward her tits, but slowly, approaching and retreating, savouring the aroma of her warm skin, flicking a line with his tongue from the bottom of her neck to the middle of her chest and along her ribs.

She pushed her chest toward his face but he refused the offer and kissed around her breasts again, tantalising her as much as she had tantalised him. Their breaths, in unison, were deep and heavy. She turned to sit with her legs astride his, her thighs wide open, her body inviting him in.

"Oh, God, Ezra! Suck my tits!"

He didn't answer but just continued kissing her ribs and shoulders, avoiding her delicious mounds, building her tension.

Ezra put his fingers tentatively in her arm-pit to feel the hair there. He had already seen most of the Woodlanders naked and knew they didn't shave anywhere. He quite liked a hairy pussy but hairy armpits and legs were things no one ever saw on an Earthwoman. The silky thatch under her arm was softer than he expected and more sensitive. Annela clearly enjoyed being stroked there and the more he stroked, the more erotic it felt. Perhaps he could get used to hairy armpits, he thought, but he was sure he would never want to run his tongue along a hairy shin.

Annela was strongly turned on by all the gentle fondling and teasing. She wanted more and again tried to push her chest into Ezra's face. Now, at last, he accepted the invitation and tasted her tits, licking round her left nipple then engulfing the whole breast with a hard suction. She gasped. Her tits were small and suckable, with nipples sensitive enough for her to adore being sucked - feeling it in the breast itself and in the small of her back - but not so sensitive that it hurt. This suited Ezra perfectly. He loved sucking tits more than almost anything else.

While he adored her breasts, the rain began to fall as hail, rattling on the hut roof, drowning out Annela's gasps and moans, which were frequent now that his hand was on her pussy, fondling, exploring, playing hunt-the-clitoris in the thick mat of her pubic hair. He gently ran his fingers through the down, exploring her mound, resting his hand on the flat of her stomach, lightly brushing his fingers over her clit.

She breathed in gasps, her eyes shut tight, her head back, rocking her pelvis to a rhythm of her own. The air was becoming suffused with the scent of arousal and his cock was hard and straining. It was time to concentrate on her bottom half.

He stopped sucking and fondling. It took her a second to come back down to Earth (so to speak) and respond.

"What's wrong, Ezra?"

"Nothing, darling. Let's use the bed."

She got off him and, holding his hand, led him to the bed. She lay on her back and gave him a tug on the arm to follow her but he stayed by the side of the bed.

"Lie across it, darling," he said, pulling her around so her legs were facing him.

"Spread your legs."

She spread them wide on the edge of the bed and held her breath in anticipation. Ezra knelt and began to kiss her belly, working his way slowly down her body to her right thigh, then kissed up her leg. She put her hands in his hair.

He kissed the back of her knee and down the inside of her thigh, tracing a thin avenue of hairs to the edge of her pelvis, then around the top of her pussy and up the other leg. As he kissed her knee, he caressed the hairs around her outer lips and ran a finger-tip softly up the line between her thigh and pelvis. He kissed back down her thigh and sank his tongue into the same gap on her left side. She squirmed. It half tickled her and half turned her on. He did it again. Now it was more turn-on than tickle. At the third time she let go his head, grabbed hold of the mattress and hooked her legs over his shoulders.

He took the hint and went for her clitoris, flicking it lightly with the tip of his tongue at first, then, as she pushed her pelvis into his face, wanting more, he basted it in long sensuous strokes. She arched her back and hummed deep in her throat. He couldn't hear her hum over the clatter of the hail but his hand caressing her waist felt her stomach muscles bunch and relax.

He licked a pattern on her clitoris: the alphabet first, then the prime numbers until he lost count and started the alphabet again. Annela was in ecstasy. She had a couple of little climaxes while he worked on her clit; and now she was building steadily a nice big orgasm.

He pushed a finger into her vulva and spread her inner lips, stopping at the entrance to her vagina. She was sopping wet and eager for penetration, but language eluded her. He still worked on her clitoris and tantalised her with strokes of his finger-tips along the labia, pushing down on the perineum. She was rocking her pelvis again now, a steady motion that meant 'Fuck me, please!'

Ezra pushed his finger into her vagina now and felt around, exploring, finding her g-spot for later reference, then pushing downward to stretch the muscle and find the back of her anus from the inside. No one had ever done that to her before. It wasn't unpleasant. He did it again and her reaction showed she decided she liked it. Her legs were still over his shoulder. She pulled him hard toward her and he responded by keeping the pressure of his finger in the bottom of her vagina and sucking her clitoris into his mouth.

She had another small climax - tantalising because she wanted a big orgasm which Ezra was denying her. His next move made her shake with pleasure. He turned his finger upward in her vagina, found the soft spongy organ and pushed his finger flat against it. Then he made a strong suction with his mouth on her whole vagina, causing a vacuum inside, and swiftly pulled his finger away from her g-spot, making it swell and become sensitive. He did it again and again, building her up. At the sixth time, she gasped, stretched out her arms, slapped them flat on the bed and cried out:

"Oh! God, Ezra, now, please now!"

He turned up his finger-tip to catch her g-spot and flicked over it again and again in a come-hither motion. She came in seconds. Her back arched and she screamed. The wall muscles of her tight vagina squeezed his finger in convulsive waves and he slowly removed it and used his hand to rub her vulva as she relaxed from her spasm. She hugged him tightly as she recovered.

She lay back with a smile of contentment which it was unfortunately too dark for him to see. Though the hail was slowing, she had to talk quite loudly for him to hear.




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 05



[I am grateful for all the comments. Sorry it takes me so long to write at the moment. Please bear with me.]

[The note at the beginning on Chapter 4 says what has happened so far in the story. In Chapter 4 itself, Ezra was persuaded (quite easily) to take all the fertile Woodlanders in monthly turns as his bedmates, with the hope of impregnating them, starting that night with his nurse, Annela.]

*****

It was next morning and Annela was lying on Ezra in her favourite position, her legs astride him, her bottom pushed against his stiff upright cock.

She had been out as soon as she woke and came back feeling cold, so she crept into bed quietly, careful not to wake him. Still feeling cold, she snuggled up close, rousing him from a pleasant dream.

"Good morning," he said. "You're cold. Come here. I'll warm you up."

She climbed onto him and he held her tightly. Soon she was warm again and lifted her head from his chest to smile at him. Though she liked the feel of his stiff cock against her bottom, she didn't think she'd be up to repeating last night's performance.

"Darling," she said. "Do you mind if we don't have sex this morning? I'll make it up to you tonight."

"Of course. You rest for now."

She was pleased he was so considerate.

Annela's first time of sex with a man had been strange, a little painful at first, but amazing over all. At times, it had given her more pleasure than she had ever known from sex. She had been in ecstasy so often she lost count of her climaxes but, even so, some things need time to recover. Was it fair on Ezra, she wondered? Ignorant of the sexual customs of Earth, she would have had sex with him if he had insisted.

"I don't want your balls to start aching again," she said thoughtfully. "I could wank you, if you want."

"I want," was his gruff reply.

Annela took his cock in her hand and began to rub it up and down as she had done last night. She made slow and steady movements, feeling it get even stiffer, watching its head turn a deep red.

She knelt beside him and leaned over to kiss his chest as she made long slow strokes. Ezra groaned happily. He was nicely aroused and loving the feel of her slow but firm treatment.

She swapped hands so she could cup his balls, careful not to squeeze as she had been warned. That was even nicer for him. Her hands were warm and soft.

She was not as strong with her left hand as with her right and she tired after a few minutes, so she swapped her hands over again.

"Go a little faster, darling," he said, lying back and breathing deeply.

Annela wanked him faster, one hand flat on his belly the other pistoning his cock. Now she tired more quickly and swapped her hands over again.

It was an erotic experience for her because Ezra was enjoying it so much. His legs were spread slightly and he bucked his pelvis the way he had done when she rode him last night. His cock was red and large. A small dribble of clear semen appeared at its tip.

"Oh, God! Darling, that's wonderful," he groaned, his hands involuntarily clenching and releasing.

Annela's hand tired once more. She swapped over for the last time and wanked Ezra fast. She felt his orgasm start as a pulse in the base of his cock, swelling the tube that ran its length. Then, as Ezra arched, shut his eyes and groaned "Oh, God!" again, cum erupted from his cock in quick spurts that shot into the air, followed by slower surges that flowed over her hand.

She wanked the last few drops out and then sat back, pleased with herself. She felt his cock soften slowly as Ezra relaxed from his peak.

"Hmm! I enjoyed that," she said. "Did I do it right?"

Ezra was breathing heavily and only nodded with a grateful smile.

"So that's what your cock did in me last night?"

He nodded and smiled again.

The first spurts of semen had fallen on Ezra's chest and belly, the rest was on Annela's hand and dripping into his pubic hair. Intrigued, she lifted her hand to her mouth and licked a small drop from a knuckle with the tip of her tongue. It was slightly salty but not unpleasant.

She looked for something to wipe the semen from her hand but Ezra said.

"Rub it in. It's good for your skin."

She did so, lathering it into her chest. Then she shepherded as much fluid as she could into a little puddle on his belly and lay on him, rubbing the semen into their bare skins. He was delighted.

"You're an amazing woman, Annela."

"I know," she said, rising up off him, rubbing the last of his semen into the cup of her breast. "Come on, it's time to get up for breakfast. I think it's going to be an eventful day!"

They rinsed themselves off from the night bucket and, after separate visits to the crapper, were the last to breakfast.

At breakfast, knowing it must feel strange for them, Mirselene had exercised her authority to prevent Annela and Ezra from being pestered by the inquisitive women. As soon as the breakfast plates were cleared away, however, Mirselene called Wildchild, Carlin, Tamar, Pepi and Ezra together, saying:

"I want you to be our foraging party this morning. We need mushrooms, nuts and berries. You should also check if the figs are ripe and come back via the banana plantation. Carlin, you know the route, so you take the lead."

"Yes, Madam," the girl said and went to collect shoulder baskets for the troop.

Hitching up his basket and preparing to follow Carlin out of the camp, Ezra smiled knowingly at Annela, mouthing "Good luck." She understood and smiled back warily. Ezra knew why he and the girls were being sent away. It was so the Woodlanders could grill Annela about last night's events. They all wanted to know what sex was like with a man.

Annela had never previously hesitated while talking about sex. It was a natural process and not a cause for shame or embarrassment. In fact, openness about sex was one of the things that prevented jealous gossip from rending the small close-knit community into warring factions, threatening the survival of the whole community. It was curious to Annela, therefore, as she sat down on the dais next to Mirselene, ready to be questioned, that she suddenly felt a reluctance to describe in detail everything she and Ezra had done together.

She did not know what it was about sex with a man that was different, that she wanted to keep private, but she had no time for self-examination because Mirselene quickly got matters going when she asked what Ezra looked like naked. Annela could answer this. It was only biology, of course. For obvious reasons, they were all interested in his penis. Annela described its workings in detail and even told them what semen was like - slightly warm, gooey and mostly white - but again found a reluctance to tell them she had tasted it. She also made a mental note to tell Parvinder she must have misremembered the biology book because there was only one tube in the penis that she could feel or see.

Annela was happy to reveal all her own feelings when Ezra kissed and fucked her but she blushed when someone asked whether Ezra had licked her pussy and whether his tongue was rough or smooth. She also skirted over the description of how she masturbated Ezra that morning.

So the morning stretched out with probing questions and demands for more detail. Annela described the difference between sex with a man and sex with a woman but side-stepped the question which kind of sex was better, saying that she couldn't judge on so little experience. Secretly she already knew the answer: she wanted Ezra again but she didn't think she'd want another woman again.

***

Two hours since breakfast and the foragers were idling along their route, having gathered hazelnuts, mushrooms and the first ripe figs. They were in no hurry to return. Tamar chatted happily (to herself or the wide world, it didn't matter), while Carlin was content to listen and Pepi interjected random statements, apropos of nothing. Wildchild scanned the trees for birds to aim at and Ezra was self-absorbed, happily replaying the events of last night and this morning in his head.

What amazed him was that Annela had been so loving and compliant. He had learned last night how easy it was to put her at her ease sexually. It surprised him that there had been only one instance of apprehension, until he remembered that the Samothean women had grown up knowing about men only from history lessons. Their sexual encounters were with other women and there was an openness about sexuality that mixed-sex societies could not maintain.

Even the gentle Woodlanders felt love, heartbreak and jealousy in their friendships, of course, but there seemed to be nothing like the passion-led sexual conflict that, in Ezra's opinion, made so many Earth-women, even in the most liberated societies, impossible to live with.

Thus occupied, the foragers wandered on through the dappled greensward as the temperature rose and the forest floor dried out. Bird-chatter accompanied their meandering, interrupted by the occasional whoosh of an arrow loosed at the canopy by Wildchild, causing excitement among its feathered denizens but no actual harm. They reached the banana plantation after nearly three hours and with little room left in the baskets. Ezra pulled a hand of bananas down for Wildchild to cut with her knife. So, with full baskets, it was time to return to the camp.

At their leisurely pace it took an hour to walk home. En route, a rare event excited the foragers. When there was only a hundred yards to go, Pepi ran ahead so she could be the first to announce it.

Though Annela and Ezra had made love for two hours last night, yet four hours later the tribeswomen were still sitting around the dais, grilling Annela about sex with Ezra while they cut vegetables, wove baskets or performed other chores. Pepi's shrill piping was a welcome interruption to her.

"We saw swans!" Pepi shouted as soon as she cleared the tree-line around the camp. "Mummy, we saw swans!"

"How many?" Mirselene asked, rising from her seat.

"Four," Pepi said, holding up five fingers.

"Good. What direction were they flying?"

Pepi pointed in a direction behind Mirselene. The others had now caught up and Mirselene looked quizzically at Carlin for her to corroborate Pepi's story.

"They flew west, Madam," Carlin answered.

"Hmm. Perhaps they'll settle on Duck Lake. Sharne, how prepared are we for the hunt?"

"We need to check the bows, strings and arrows," Sharne answered. "We can do so this afternoon, though it may take another day if we need to make repairs."

Mirselene thought for a moment.

"If the swans settled on the lake, then they'll probably still be there in two days; but I think we should try to hunt tomorrow if we can. Ladies!" she commanded with a certain relish in her voice: "Go fetch your bows!"

All the women planned to hunt except Lenta, who could not walk that far. Soon the camp was full of women stringing and carefully flexing their bows, bending them a small amount at a time to prevent the bows snapping when fully flexed.

Sharne distributed arrows and then set to checking a pile of spare bows and a basket of bowstrings while the women took their places at the edge of the meadow to practise shooting. Luckily, Bessie the cow was in her enclosure and no chickens had escaped their run into the meadow.

Dagma patrolled behind the line of archers, a critical sergeant lending expert advice to those who needed their stance or technique corrected. Soon she had the satisfaction of seeing most of the women shoot the entire length of the meadow.

One whose arrows were falling short was Carlin. Dagma went over to see what help she could give but the girl was getting the most out of her small bow and was not yet strong enough for a full-size bow. Here Dagma noticed Tamar, who did not have a bow but was passing arrows to Wildchild and Carlin. Dagma fetched the smallest practise bow, flexed it a few times and then offered it to Tamar, who said:

"I've tried with Carlin's bow but I'm not strong enough to pull the string all the way back."

"It's not all strength, Tamar, some of it's technique. Show me what you can do."

Tamar loaded an arrow and pulled the string as hard as she could but it went only halfway back.

"See!" she said.

"You're starting too upright. Hold the bow down in front of you. Lean forward and bend your knees just a little." With a firm hand on the girl's back, she guided Tamar into the position. "Start pulling the string back." Tamar got the string half-way again. "Now straighten up as you pull the rest of the way, so you use your back as well as your arm."

This time Tamar pulled the string three-quarters of the way back. She tried to release the arrow but the string got dislodged and snapped forward leaving the arrow where it was.

Dagma reseated the arrow.

"Try again."

Tamar managed another three-quarter pull and this time loosed the arrow successfully, but it went only ten yards.

"Again," Dagma commanded, loading another arrow.

Tamar shot six arrows but none further than twenty-five yards.

"Don't be discouraged," Dagma reassured her. "All you need is practise. The more you try, the stronger you'll get. Sharne or I will give you proper lessons whenever you want."

Tamar put the bow back and left Wildchild and Carlin practising. She couldn't help being a little disheartened, though she was still excited by the prospect of the duck-hunt tomorrow. She returned to the camp to see what help she could be.

She found Pepi sitting on Ezra's lap, reading. Across the campfire from them, Sharne was sorting bow-strings and collecting arrows into bundles for those who came back from the field for repairs or more ammunition.

Lenta was by the stove, blowing on the embers to light a faggot. She saw Tamar return and called her over.

Though she would rather sit on a bench and mope, Tamar obeyed the ancient black woman, whom she respected.

"Take this kindling to light the campfire," Lenta said.

Tamar put the tapers in a convenient gap and lay down to blow up the flames. Building a fire was a skill she had lately acquired and was showing an aptitude for. Soon fire licked up the sides of the stack of logs and a plume of smoke rose into the air as Tamar built the fire steadily, poking the faggots with a long stick.

Preparation for the feast was Pepi's cue that her reading-lesson was over. She hopped off Ezra's lap and, with exaggerated care, returned her book to its place in Mirselene's hut.

Now Annela returned to the camp. She was the first to declare her bow working properly and left the practise field to go early to the river to bathe. She did this so she could bring a bucket of water back for Ezra, giving him time to clean up before the feast. As she passed Ezra on her way to her hut, he said "I'll come with you."

Annela was pleased and they went together to her hut to undress. She pulled off his bandage and helped him remove his shirt. Because his arm still hurt if he straightened it too much, she tied it up with the bark sling Wildchild had made. The bruise was now a painful-looking purple with yellow edges. He was quite adept at removing his trousers but Annela wanted to help anyway. She was amused when he insisted he keep his shorts on.

As they left her hut for the bathing place, Pepi saw them and called out: "Mummy, are we going to the pool? Can you wash me?"

"No, Sweetie," Sharne replied as she delved into the basket of strings. "I have work to do - and you're old enough to wash yourself."

"But I like when you wash me. Please, Mummy, please?"

"No. Stop being so childish. If you want to wash, go and wash yourself."

Then Pepi had a thought.

"Ezra can wash me. Mummy, ask Ezra to wash me!"

"I will not. He's got better things to do."

"Ezra!" Pepi called out, running to him and grabbing his good arm, "Will you wash me?"

He turned to Sharne for her guidance, who sighed and said:

"Sorry, Ezra. ... Pepi, will you stop bothering him!"

"She's no bother, Sharne. If you don't object, I'm happy to help her wash."

"Oh, I don't object at all but you've only got yourself to blame if she never lets you go afterward. ... Pepi, Ezra's responsible for your noise and mess now. Behave yourself and don't come crying to me if he ends up drowning you. ... And put your clothes away in the hut, don't just drop them on the ground." It was too late. "Pepi!" she cried. "Come back and put your clothes away properly!"

Pepi obeyed, throwing her clothes at the entrance to the hut and running naked to catch up with Ezra. Sharne sighed but she watched Ezra until he reached the river, fascinated by his body. Only then did she pick up her daughter's strewn clothing.

At the meadow, Mirselene noticed the column of smoke and shot a last arrow the full length of the field. With a glow of satisfaction, she declared it was time to prepare for the feast.

Giving Wildchild and Carlin the task of collecting the arrows, Mirselene led the remaining women to the camp-fire and to their tasks.

A whisper spread around the returning women when it was realised Ezra had gone to the river to bathe. Soon a crowd gathered at the bathing place. Too many to enter the water at the same time, the women stood around on the bank, pretending not to stare. Annela smiled knowingly and apologetically at Ezra but he seemed not to mind any more. When Pepi was washed thoroughly and had been playfully dunked a few times, they got out to make room for others.

Drying was fast in the afternoon sun and Ezra and Annela dressed quickly to join the matrons at the camp-fire and help with the feast. Annela was given a task but Ezra was told to relax and let the women work. His injury was the official reason but, because he insisted he ought to do something, Parvinder made him 'official taster'. It was a sop but it was something to do and Ezra performed his role conscientiously.

There was pent-up excitement at the feast, fraught with quiet anticipation of the following day's hunt. Only one thing disturbed the harmony of the tribe. It was Pepi, who protested in shrill tones when her mother told her to sleep that night in Lenta's hut because everyone else was leaving early to go on the duck hunt.

"I want to go on the hunt!" Pepi exclaimed, protesting the unfairness of it all.

"You know you can't come," Sharne explained patiently. "It's a long way and we must all be silent when we reach the lake."

"I can walk as far as anyone and I can be silent."

Neither statement was true: Pepi was tired after walking just four hours today and she couldn't keep silent for five minutes at a time. But she was excited about having seen the swans and thought it very unfair not to let her help hunt them. As Sharne was having trouble quieting her daughter, Mirselene entered the row.

"Pepi, that's enough," she commanded. The girl went quiet. "Tamar," Mirselene continued, "you can't handle a bow, so you can stay here and help Lenta look after Pepi."

It was an order not a request and a devastating one for Tamar, whose face could not hide her disappointment. Ezra saw what Mirselene apparently did not see and he spoke up immediately.

"Madam, Tamar can use her slingshot but I cannot handle a bow. I always expected that I would stay behind, so I will be happy to entertain Pepi."

"Of course, Ezra, that's just as good," Mirselene said, clearly not offended by his intervention. "The matter's settled and Pepi can come on another duck hunt when she is old enough."

The girl could not argue with Mirselene but was only somewhat mollified. As it was her bed-time, she now wanted to sleep with Ezra and Annela in their hut.

"You can't, Pepi," her mother said, "Annela and Ezra want to be alone."

"Why Mummy?"

"Because they do. That's enough, Pepi. Time for bed."

The argument went on in a subdued form as the girl was bundled off to her grand-mother's hut but she was sleepy and soon there was quiet, leaving Tamar grateful to Ezra but also troubled by how easily Mirselene could be thoughtless. There was no malice in the chief's judgment, however, just an imperious lack of consideration for the feelings of others. It was something Wildchild and Ezra also noticed. All three reflected for a few minutes on this feature of life in their newly-adopted tribe.




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 05



Ezra had not been reflecting long before Annela tapped his arm and, under cover of the darkness that quickly fell on the camp, led him away silently to her hut. She wanted to carry on from last night and soon they were lying on the bed, kissing. She was on top, her shirt unbuttoned to the waist, his good hand fondling a round tit.

She pulled away to take her shirt off and when she leant back down, she guided her tit into his mouth. He licked around the nipple before sucking on the small beautiful mound. She revelled in his touch, in the warmth of his mouth on her flesh and the suction he applied, first to one tit, then to the other.

She sighed when he let her tit go and relaxed, lying full length on him, her hands in his hair.

"Darling, what do Earth women do when they want to please a man?"

"Anything they want. A man gets most of his pleasure from feeling that he's satisfied a woman."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Hmmm. But what if she wants to give him pleasure for his own sake, regardless of her? What can she do?"

"I see what you mean. Then she would suck his cock."

"Is that all?"

"Other than fucking, it's the main thing. We say on Earth that a woman has many erotic zones but a man has only one."

"Men are simpler than women?"

"And how! If you want to please a man, play with his cock."

"Show me."

"Do what you did this morning but with your tongue and lips - no teeth."

He couldn't see her smile as she licked her lips and wriggled her way down his body. She held his hard cock in one hand and began to lick the tip, making the same circular motion as he had on her nipple just now. Then she licked up and down the shaft as Ezra laid back and felt like a king.

So far it was all tongue. She even licked his balls, which he thought was perfect.

"Put your mouth around my cock," he said.

She did so, laying her tongue along the under-side of his cock and sucking her cheeks in a little.

"Now move your head, like you're wanking me."

His voice was gruff and occasionally his breath caught. She was doing a good job for a novice and kept her teeth away. She pulled her head back and flicked her tongue around his cock-head and then engulfed it again in her mouth, taking it a little further in and caressing it with her tongue as she bobbed her head slowly.

There was pleasure for her in the novelty of the action and the feel of his cock but the greatest pleasure was how much she was turning Ezra on, who was stretched out and slowly bucking his pelvis in time with her bobbing. He had involuntarily gripped her arm in his hand and was squeezing tightly. She stopped to gently remove his fingers. He understood and released his grip.

When she began sucking again, she also rubbed the base of his cock with her fingers and gave more suction.

"That's wonderful, darling," Ezra groaned happily.

She made a muffled response, which might have been "Thank you" if her mouth hadn't been filled with hard cock. She bobbed faster and cupped his balls in her hand. He was on the plateau and building to an orgasm. His cock was hot and hard. He had to concentrate to force the words out but he managed to say:

"Darling ... turn around ..."

"Hmm?" she replied.

"... turn around ... lie ... uh ... on me."

She understood. It was the sixty-nine position. She'd done it with Dipti many times.

She stripped off her skirt and straddled his chest, her left knee raised so as not to lean on his bad arm; then she lay on him, offering her pussy to his face and took his cock in her mouth again. Now her tongue was on the sensitive top of his cock as he began to lick gentle patterns on her clitoris and along her slit. She relished this position and began bobbing her head again.

Her pussy was wet and inviting and he did his best but Annela was shorter than him and he could not prop himself up on his elbows very well so it was a strain to hold his mouth on her pussy. After some time, he laid his head back and began to use his finger in her slit, probing with a gentle motion, giving her a delicious sensual ache when he put pressure on her tendons and tight muscles, using his thumb to flick over her clitoris.

As he rose toward his peak, he began to concentrate on her g-spot, rubbing it gently with the flat of his fore-finger, then more vigorously, trying to bring her off in time with his own arousal. It was working. She closed her eyes and began to buck as she surrendered to the ecstatic feeling. She tried to remember to wank him, flicking her tongue on his shaft, then sucking hard on the cock-head.

The tension rose for them both. She could feel his balls tighten in her hand and she felt her own climax start in the small of her back. His cock felt harder and bigger. She knew what was coming. Her mouth was greedy, waiting, inviting his eruption.

Ezra came first. There was a flexing and a pulse and another pulse; then she felt the warm liquid in the back of her throat. She swallowed as she continued wanking, drawing out further pulses of juice into her mouth. She swallowed again.

Moments later, her eyes shut and her back hunched as the convulsion hit her. Ezra kept working on her g-spot and she convulsed again. A small squirt of her own juice sprayed his face. Her bottom shook for a few moments, then she lay still. His cock was still in her warm mouth and it was a minute before she recovered enough to give it a final suck and let it go.

They talked when they had both recovered. Annela refused to believe she had squirted until she felt the dampness on his face and neck, then she was pleased. She had never squirted before.

About thirty minutes later, they were both ready again. Annela climbed on him and, finding his cock good and hard, rode him slowly to another satisfying orgasm.

All was peaceful in the camp as they breathed heavily and held each other tightly, sweat co-mingling on their chests, her long hair strewn about his face and neck. The rain had stopped but none of the night's chill intruded as they lay together and whispered themselves to sleep.

Next morning, Annela slipped out quietly to join the hunting-party at an early breakfast. Ezra got up in time to watch the hunters march out of the camp, their bows at the slope, their spirits high. It made him realise something that had been at the back of his mind since first meeting the Woodlanders.

It was that they were a gentle, shy and fearful tribe. Due to an unpleasant incident some years ago, they no longer traded with the Herders, who were considered aggressive; yet the Woodlanders were not peaceful vegetarians, as one might romantically imagine. They hunted pigeons and ducks with relish and the prospect of killing a swan raised a blood-lust in them. It seemed incongruous until he asked himself, How otherwise were they to survive?

With the camp empty, there was nothing to do except entertain Pepi, which Ezra did conscientiously until it was time to help Lenta cook lunch. They had a carefree afternoon, during which Lenta kept them interested with stories from the Woodlanders' history.

The hunting party reached Duck Lake after a couple of hours fast marching. The lake looked like a slightly crooked finger, the 'finger-tip' pointing up-stream, the 'knuckle' forming a small dam down-stream. They approached the lake from upstream and stopped a good way from the finger-tip.

Sharne scouted ahead and came back to report that most of the ducks and all the geese were at the knuckle end of the lake and the four swans were near the finger-tip. They would therefore split into two teams to hunt the birds, one at each end of the lake. The team near the finger-tip were not to shoot until the team at the knuckle had started their attack. They were to save some ammunition in case the ducks fled from one end of the lake and tried to land at the other. The swans would need a good length of the lake as a runway, so both teams should get a few shots in before they could all take-off.

Sharne led the larger party, taking those who could shoot the furthest, to the knuckle end of the lake: Dagma led the others to the finger-tip.

The women crawled to their posts, keeping silent. trying to remain under the cover of the undergrowth. This was not very easy for someone as bulky as Mirselene, who was in Sharne's party, so she wisely kept to the rear.

As soon as they were ready, Sharne's team shot their arrows in a large volley from a good distance into the unsuspecting ducks, killing some and scattering the others into the air in a festival of avian panic. This was the cue for Dagma's team to shoot at the swans. They quickly re-loaded and loosed more arrows before the big birds began their get-away.

Some of the escaping ducks wheeled around and tried landing at the finger-tip end of the lake. Dagma's party sent a volley at those unlucky birds, while Sharne's party was shooting with pot luck at the swans and any flying target.

Tamar was in Dagma's party. She crawled on her belly almost to the lake's edge and stood to fling stones with her slingshot. She had no hope of bringing down a swan, or even a duck unless she brained it with a direct hit, but she put all her might into her throws and sent three pebbles at the swans before they were out of range.

The Woodlanders' war on the birds of Duck Lake had lasted less then ten minutes and there was jubilation at the result, which was one swan, four geese and eleven ducks killed. As they waded into the shallow lake to collect their prizes and retrieve their spent arrows, the Woodlanders' essential gentleness returned, which Mirselene expressed to the younger members by sincerely hoping that all the birds had been cleanly killed and that none had escaped with an injury to die later in pain.

Their jubilation subsided during the long trek home but the hunters still had a glow of satisfaction when they trooped late afternoon into the camp and laid their kills on the work-benches, ready for plucking, cooking and salting.

At the feast that night, Ezra and the younger Woodlanders tasted swan for the first time. It was horrible: tough, gamey and fishy, it was a stringy meat and probably needed another hour's roasting. The best bits of the swan were the feathers, to be used for pillows and bedding. However, the goose was delicious.

Later, in her hut, Annela and Ezra fucked hard. She was full of spirit from the hunt; he was full of longing from missing her that day. There had been little foreplay, just urgent kissing, his hand in her hair. She loosened his straining cock from his trousers and practically tore her own skirt off, then she speared herself on him and rode and rode until she heard him gasp and felt the strain of her own juddering climax.

While she lay collapsed on him, sweating and exhausted, they heard a high-pitched yelp that turned into a frantic giggle. The night rain had diminished to a drizzling pitter-patter yet it must have been a loud cry to be heard from the next-door hut.

"That's Dipti," Annela said. "She must have goaded Urulla into tormenting her."

They smiled to know that another couple had been energised by today's hunt into passionate sex. It was a nice thought to go to sleep on.

***

The duck-hunt was the exciting highlight of Annela and Ezra's first week together as bedmates, which otherwise was characterised by lashings of sex (every night and morning and sometimes during the day, if they had time to slip off together into the forest), plus lots of work in preparation for the next significant event, which was the trading day with the Mariners.

Every month the Woodlanders met the Mariners to trade forest goods for the fruits of the sea. Through the Mariners, all the produce of Samothea (meat products from the Herders, food from the Farmers, children or cattle from the Cloners) was available for trade - at a price.

Every three months the Woodlander and Mariner chiefs met, to set the prices for the next two trades. Every year, all the Samothean chiefs met, to set the price for the 'Cloner Tokens', the currency the tribes collected to spend at the Cloner City in exchange for impregnating a woman with her cloned daughter or in exchange for cloned horses, cows and sheep. This month it was an ordinary trade.

It was better that Mirselene went only to the chieftains' yearly trades because she found it difficult to keep her temper when she saw how little a basket of Woodlander produce fetched and how expensive the Cloner tokens were.

Seven Woodlander women planned to go to the trading place, leaving the older women and Pepi behind (plus Tamar, Wildchild and Ezra, of course). Annela also wanted to stay behind but Mirselene ruled that it would cause suspicion if fewer Woodlanders than normal turned up. Pepi did not moan about staying because it would be such a long and boring walk. This was a mercy because Pepi could not be trusted to keep the secret of Ezra's existence or where Tamar and Wildchild were hiding from the Herders. All the other women were strongly cautioned to guard their speech, in case they inadvertently let slip one of these secrets.

It was a hard four hours' walk to the trading place laden with baskets. The location was not far from the forest-edge, so the timid Woodlanders could retreat to the cover of the trees if they felt threatened. The Mariners were less intimidated by the Herders, though everyone went unarmed to the trading place.

As the women were due to leave before dawn, Ezra planned to send Annela off with a smile on her face. He woke her early with gentle kisses and a warm hand massaging her bottom. They lay on their sides, face to face. She smiled and pretty soon had pushed him on his back and taken her place on top, her wet snatch filled with his hard cock, her sweet moans echoing off the walls of the hut, muffled to the outside world by the damp mist that hung on the camp like a blanket.

She rode him sensuously but briskly, loving the stretch and the electric buzz as her clitoris rubbed his pubic hair at the bottom of her urgent thrusts. She leaned back to give him more tension. Now his cock rubbed the sweet spot in her vagina and she loved this even more. She came first, her spasm shaking her thighs and bunching her stomach muscles. Shortly afterward, he pulsed his seed up into her with a groan and a bucking pelvis.

She lay down on him to kiss and he held her tight, making her feel warm and loved. She wanted that satisfying moment to last forever but soon had to be up and going.

The women were waved off before dawn by a solicitous Mirselene, who got up unusually early to give the traders a last warning about not gossiping too freely and to tell Annela to stop looking so suspiciously happy. The girl messed up her hair and tried to look serious. Then they were off, silent at first because it was so early but, as the day warmed up, so did the conversation, so the drudgery of a long walk was relieved by silly friendly chatter.

The monthly trade was a communal affair, enjoyed as much for the pleasure of meeting friends as for trade. This meeting was subdued but successful. None of the Mariners seemed to have any news of Herder girls gone missing, even though they had just traded with the Herders. This aided the gossip-starved Woodlanders from revealing secrets they might otherwise have struggled to conceal.

Both tribes brought baskets filled with pre-ordered goods, plus extra goods in their pockets to be traded for special treats once the Cloner Tokens had been purchased.

Annela had some fancy-coloured woven material to trade. Sharne and Dagma had some wooden tools they had made to Ezra's designs (though none were of his own production, in case his alien handiwork were detected). Before she left, Annela had asked Ezra if there was anything she could bring him back. He had requested a piece of obsidian or a shell which would take sharpening so he could use it as a razor. Thus Annela traded her spare cloth for a few scallops, oysters and long straight bivalves.

The traders got back in the early evening and were greeted with hot vegetable soup and baked flat-breads. They didn't bother to unpack their baskets but left them in a storage hut and settled down for the night, exhausted yet fulfilled. This was the first night of those Ezra and Annela had together that they did not make love. She lay on her side beside him and he held her warmly.

Next morning, they tried to fuck doggy-style. After kissing and fingering her, Ezra got Annela to go on all fours. Her long red hair hung over her face as she waited expectantly. He had a glorious view of her perfect legs, slim thighs, hairy bush and inviting pink slit between mouth-watering firm round buttocks as he knelt behind and lined up his cock. She arched her back, emphasising her thin waist and he pushed his stiff cock slowly into her tight damp pussy.

Rear-entry fucking was deeply satisfying for Annela but not perfect for Ezra, who could not balance so well with only one arm to hold onto her hips. He slipped over a couple of times as they fucked. Eventually, they reverted to their usual position with Annela on top. Afterward, they saw they had broken the bed; but it was worth it.

For work that day, the trade-goods were sorted and the perishable items put into long-lasting containers. Pumice, soap-stones and sponges were handed out. Sinews and stomachs were sewn into useful bags or water-containers. Strips of leather were cut to patch clothes or as grips for tool-handles. Necklaces of pretty shells and pebbles were distributed to everyone, including Pepi, who took hers apart so she could play with the coloured beads.

Ezra was delighted with the shells Annela gave him and spent the afternoon sharpening them. He found the oyster shell the best because it was thick enough to take the most sharpening but when he tried to shave using wet clay as a lubricant it was too painful, so he gave up and kept his beard, which most of the women liked anyway.

***

By the end of the second week that Annela and Ezra had been bedmates, life for the Woodlanders had settled into as near normal a routine as was possible with a man in the camp. Everyone got on well, even those who had indulged in envious gossip about the pair. It was never bitter gossip, however, and it stopped immediately Mirselene made her announcement. Now there was good will, smiles and encouragement, especially when Annela kept the tribe updated with details of their love-making.

For Annela, though, life was anything but normal. She had never felt so much joy. She had that full-to-bursting feeling in her chest, as if her heart would explode from happiness. Even vigorous sex twice daily or more could not use up her nervous energy but every sensual touch from Ezra added to her craving for sex. She missed him every moment they were separated.

As she sat weaving outside her hut, her thoughts wandered back to those voluptuous moments in bed that morning, when she had ridden Ezra to a shuddering climax, his mouth, baby-like, sucking at a tit, his cock pulsing warm seed into her eager pussy. She had rested on him afterward, nuzzling the hair on his chest. With a few convulsive thrusts of her pelvis, she milked the final drops of semen from his cock as it slowly softened in her vagina.

A warm glow suffused their bodies. They relaxed and took deep and restful breaths in unison - a sure sign of sexual contentment as a couple.

Annela said: "Rub the small of my back, please."

He did so and she sighed, lying in motionless contentment, like a cat.

"Is that better?"

"Mmmm. Much better."

"Do you get back-pain?"

"Once a month, for a day or two," she said.

"I understand." He rubbed gently in a circular motion, changing direction every so often. "That means, until now, we've only been practising."

She knew he understood how crucial the next few days were - and she smiled to think how full of sex they would be. God she was horny! Luckily (she smiled again), Ezra was just as horny.




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 05



She wanted him here with her now, not just for sex, but to look at him and hear his voice; but he was out foraging for bananas with Urulla and Dipti. It was for the best, she knew. Mirselene's strictures against causing jealousy by overt displays of affection were well-meant, so she sent him away whenever she could bear to. Besides, Ezra wanted to be useful and one advantage of his height and strength was that he could pull down branches of trees to be gleaned of their fruit and nuts.

Annela tried to keep her passion under control but today she bubbled over with happiness. No doubt it was hormonal but, so what? She needed someone to hug. Her current piece of cloth was finished, so she tied off the yarn and placed the thin sheet in the basket. She left the awning of her hut for the sunshine of the mid-day camp and looked around.

Erin and Carlin were weaving baskets outside the next-door hut. She would have liked to hug either of them but they were busy. Wildchild sat near-by, whittling with her large knife. She was not a hugging kind of girl, as Annela had already learned. She permitted Annela's embrace but never returned it.

Across the camp-fire, on a bench in the sun, Pepi was trying to repair the necklace she had unthinkingly pulled apart. Annela headed that way.

"If you give me a hug, Pepi, I'll help you with your necklace."

"All right."

The girl put out her arms to Annela, who held her tightly but she squirmed so much that Annela let her go.

She had just finished remaking Pepi's necklace when Tamar came out of Erin's hut carrying one of Mirselene's books, a happy smile on her face to show that she had just finished reading it.

Seeing Annela on the bench next to Pepi, Tamar came over to say 'hello' and boast about finishing another book but she got no chance to talk. Tamar was Annela's ideal target. She loved cuddles and liked Annela very much. As soon as she was in range, Annela grasped the girl to her in a suffocating embrace.

"Mmmff, mmmff," Tamar exhaled.

"What, Darling?" Annela asked, releasing her hold a little.

"I said, I'm glad you're happy, Annela, but I can't breathe!"

"Sorry, Darling."

She let the girl go.

"I don't mean don't hug me," Tamar explained, "just don't squeeze so tightly."

Annela hugged her again, stroking her long blond hair and feeling the small buds of Tamar's young breasts against her own.

"I skip when I'm happy," Tamar said, "but this is nice as well."

A couple of minutes later and the feeling was finally receding. The girls sat down on the bench to talk.

"I know why you're so happy," Tamar said.

"Why is that?"

"Because you're in love."

Tamar spoke with such simple honesty that Annela had to admit she was right, regardless of the complications it meant for her and the whole tribe.

"Don't tell anyone else, Darling. It's our secret."

"It's not a secret at all, Annela, everyone can see it. I don't know why you don't want to tell everyone."

"Because we have to avoid jealousy. I don't want people to think that I would try to stop Ezra going to another woman."

"But why should that matter? I can't see why any other woman would want him, unless she wants babies."

"You can't? You don't think Ezra is attractive?"

"Of course not!" Tamar exclaimed, shocked that Annela could judge her taste so badly.

"I like Ezra because he's clever and kind, and because I helped find him, but he's very ugly."

"Ugly?" It was Annela's turn to exclaim. "Why do you say 'ugly'?"

"Because he's big and hairy and all straight lines and angles. You and Erin are beautiful because you're smooth and curvy and soft."

Annela had nothing to say, though she thought to herself it would not be that long before Tamar began to think differently.

She also thought that, if it's true the others could see she was in love, then maybe she need not try hiding it. Also, why suffer pangs of longing just to prevent gossip?

"Thanks, Darling," Annela said, getting up. She planted a soft kiss on Tamar's forehead. "I'm off to find Ezra."

With that, she ran to her hut, collected a water-bladder, which she flung over her shoulder and ran out of the camp into the forest, her peasant skirt bouncing up to reveal her well-turned calves and slim thighs. Tamar watched her go and then, shaking her head at the foibles of adults, visited Mirselene to return the book and collect the last volume from the Woodlanders' small library.

Annela found Ezra by himself in a clearing not very far from the banana plantation. He was on his way back to camp with a full basket on his shoulders. Dipti and Urulla had made an excuse to go off together for nuts or berries but even Ezra knew why they wanted to be alone; and he was content to walk back, at peace with the forest and happy with the world.

Hearing Annela call him, he thought at first there was an emergency. When he realised what she wanted, it didn't take him long to drop his basket and pull her to him, planting his mouth on hers.

They made an impromptu bed of bracken fronds and soon Annela was naked, her back arched, his mouth on a breast, his hand on her pussy, his fingers building waves of ecstasy. He pushed her onto her back and kissed down her belly to her clitoris, which he tongued as he finger-fucked her. She grabbed handfuls of fern and writhed on the floor, shaking her hair over her face, as she climaxed quickly and sweetly, leaving her high, like the buzz from a strong cocktail on a warm day.

Now Ezra tried something he had not done yet. They had fucked in lots of positions but not missionary because his sprained left arm was painful to lean on; but it had been feeling better of late and Ezra wanted to try.

Kissing back up her body, his weight on his good right arm, he gingerly leant on his left elbow and took a mouthful of small firm tit. Annela squirmed sexily, the glow of her first orgasm still warming her.

His elbow held firm and didn't hurt much. He flicked his tongue up her neck to her chin and lay full on her, kissing her deeply as she automatically spread her thighs wide, lifting her knees. It was time to test his arm more.

He shuffled into position and tried to push his hard cock into her but the angle was wrong. Annela understood and put her hand down to guide him into her vagina.

She gasped and held him tight around the neck as he thrust in hard. She crossed her legs on his back to give him better access.

Ezra got a rhythm going and she met his thrusts with her own. The fucking was deep and sensual. Annela adored the sense of being trapped under him. It was delicious for her to take his weight and be used for his pleasure.

It felt like all his needs were centred on her; but she didn't know how much his arm hurt. It had been too soon to use it but he couldn't stop himself. She moaned sweetly in his ear as he panted, his eyes shut, the pleasure from her body overwhelming the discomfort in his arm.

He felt her spasm as a percussive rhythm on his cock and she cried out, "Oh, God! Ezra, I love you!" as she came.

"I love you, too!" he managed to gasp between thrusts, his voice gruff.

Her wet thighs shook with another orgasm as she dug her heels hard into the small of his back, getting more purchase to buck upward at him. Another half-dozen thrusts and the throbbing began in his cock, so pleasurable it was almost painful. He groaned and spurted his juice deep into her pliant body. She hit a final peak herself before the last moments of his convulsive throbbing were over and he lay still on her.

As soon as he could, he rolled on his side to take the weight off his arm. He probably wouldn't be able to use it for a while.

Annela rolled to face him and entwined her legs with his. She put her hand on his sweaty cheek and said: "That was wonderful, Darling. I'm glad your arm is better."

"It isn't," he said, "but it was worth it."

Later they walked hand-in-hand back to the camp and were greeted with benign smiles and knowing looks by the tribeswomen, who followed the pair with their eyes as descended to the river to bathe.

***

It wasn't until they had been lovers for three weeks that Ezra's arm was well enough for him to go on top again. His muscles were weak but the arm no longer hurt him. Ezra on top gave Annela new pleasure in sex. She lay back, spread her legs and took Ezra's weight on her. She loved to feel their mouths, chests and bellies pressed together. She would cross her legs over his back and dig her fingernails into his shoulders as he pumped her hard, their sweat mingling as they reached a frenzied climax together. 

She liked when he pulled her head to one side by her hair so he could kiss her neck. Or when he put his hand under her to raise the arch of her back, presenting her tits to his mouth, which he greedily sucked.

Even so, Annela's favourite position was on top, controlling the angle and speed of their fucking, leaning back so his cock rubbed the sensitive spot on the top wall of her vagina, her flat stomach stretched taut, her round tits bouncing freely. With him underneath, her orgasms were long and sensuous, with gasping peaks and sighing valleys, which did not finish until her pulsating muscles had milked his cock of all its load. Afterward, she would lie on him in a hyper-sensitised stupor, not wanting to move and unable to talk.

With his arm finally mended, Ezra could do more of the kind of work he wanted, helping Sharne and Dagma fell trees and cut timber. Though he was happy to help Annela weave or the younger girls forage, a man needs vigorous activity as well. Even a couple of hours of passionate sex with Annela each day was insufficient exercise. He went out with Sharne and Dagma to cut logs and was surprised that Dagma, who still barely spoke to him, accepted him without demur. They taught him how to fell trees by digging around the trunk and severing the roots. Then they would mark the ground with stakes to warn people to stay clear; a year or so later, the tree would fall down of its own accord or in a high wind.

It felt good to work up a sweat and rebuild muscle as he shaped boughs with a heavy stone adze or hefted substantial logs back to camp on his shoulders.

The skin on his hands hardened and Annela felt their roughness on her soft flesh. At first, she wasn't sure she liked calloused hands caressing her sensitive inner thighs or breasts. Then she thought these were definitely a man's hands and she liked it.

Ezra was a good worker. Soon there was a large surplus of logs and some repairs that had been put off could now be attended to. One such repair was to Annela's bed, which the couple had broken twice and he didn't think could be lashed up again. With Sharne and Dagma, he built a sturdy new frame with extra cross-pieces. They also used wooden slats rather than cross-laced bamboo for the platform. The old bed was broken up and thrown on the fire. Ezra wished he could also throw the ancient mattress on the fire as well but there were no new mattresses to be had and this one was still serviceable when patched up with feathers.

The effort he spent on hard work during the day did not make their love-making any less frequent or energetic. They could not get enough of each other's bodies and were still fucking passionately every night and morning when they entered their fourth week as bedmates and an obvious calculation that all the women could perform led to some hopeful whispering.

Annela thought nothing of it when her period did not come on its due date: a few day's delay was no reason to hope. But that she and Ezra were bedmates a week past her due date, however, could not fail to cause a susurration of gossip to flow about the camp. When, a few days later, the couple still retired early together from the feast, rose late from bed and slipped off into the woods during the day, the gossip began to gain an envious edge.

So far, Mirselene had only beamed happily at the pair. Nothing could be openly said while she was prepared to quash any jealous talk. But it was also Mirselene's task to prevent causes of jealousy developing into genuine grievances; and Annela and Ezra had now been bedmates for more than their allotted month.

Mirselene invited Annela into her hut for a chat. When the girl was seated, she said: "You have to give him up, you know."

Annela began to blush.

"Now don't be angry with me," Mirselene said, with an unexpected motherly tenderness in her voice. "You know you can't keep him to yourself."

"I know. ... I'm sorry to be so selfish." Annela looked down, hot tears starting in her eyes.

"Don't be soft, child. I'd think there was something wrong with you if you weren't selfish. That's why I'm here as referee to make sure Sharne gets her chance. ... You've had Ezra more than four weeks. Why don't you say goodbye to him tonight and let him rest a day. Tomorrow night he and Sharne will be bedmates."

Annela thought to part from Ezra would be like dying. She had fallen in love and wanted her time with Ezra to last forever; but she knew the bargain they had both made and she was not going to defy her tribe. Accepting Mirselene's demand with a good grace, she said:

"I understand. I'll tell Ezra."

"Good girl. ... Now to the more serious business."

"More serious?"

"Of course. Would you care to explain why your eyes sparkle so much?"

"My eyes?"

"Your hair shines, your complexion is perfect and" (here Mirselene reached forward and put her plump hand on Annela's waist) "you feel warmer than normal."

Annela blushed again and said nothing. Mirselene smiled at the girl's embarrassment.

"We can all count, child! Your period was due ten days ago and you have been making Ezra do his duty to you every day. We're not going to get our hopes up but you must know that everyone is secretly wishing you've been lucky first time."

"Thank you, Madam."

"So my orders to you are to take extreme care of yourself. You are precious to our tribe and what you might carry is equally precious."

Annela was grateful for the concern but unhappy in having to part with Ezra. She didn't hide her sadness, which her chief for once picked up on. She put a hand on Annela's knee and spoke softly.

"Don't be dejected, Annela. I see how you care about Ezra. I'll tell you what I'm going to do. I'll speak to him and make sure he returns to you when he has done his duty to the other girls. Go and tell Ezra I want a word with him."

Annela was pretty sure she knew Ezra's mind and he didn't need Mirselene to tell him to return to her, but she wouldn't stop her chief talking to him. The truth was that Annela had been carried away by her passion for Ezra and barely even noticed when her month with him was up. It was a salutary moment for her and she took it to heart.

Ezra saw her unhappiness when she told him Mirselene wanted to speak to him. He kissed her on the forehead and went straight away to the chief's hut. He tapped the door-post.

"Come in, Ezra, sit down," Mirselene said. "I want to talk to you."

"Yes?

"Are you a lucky man, Ezra?"

"I must admit my colleagues thought so. Some of them called me 'Lucky Ezra'."

"Why?"

"Because I survived a dozen missions and some of them even made a profit. In my profession, a mission is considered successful if most men get back alive."

"And now?"

"Well, I didn't think I was lucky until I came to Samothea. Now I think I am."

"Because?"

"Well, for lots of reasons. It was good luck to find Samothea, despite the hyperspace pathways being disrupted (though it was bad luck to crash-land here and bust my arm). It was good luck to be rescued by Wildchild and Tamar and to be accepted into the Woodlander tribe, but it is bad luck that you have no men, no modern technology and there is friction between the tribes. It was very good luck to meet Annela ..."

He paused.

"I see," Mirselene said. "And is it bad luck to give her up and move on to the other women?"

"I will do what I agreed ..."

"But?"

"... but Annela is special to me. You can see that. I don't want her to be hurt."

"Yet she was the one who persuaded you to take the other bedmates."

"Yes, she did. We can't always know how we will feel about our future decisions until the time comes."

"I understand. ... You know I have a lot of influence over the tribe. I could nullify our agreement and tell the other bedmates that you are staying with Annela. There would be anger and protests, of course, maybe the threat of defection, and the resentment would last for years, but I think the tribe would survive. Would you like me to do that?"

Ezra hesitated. He opened his mouth to speak and then shut it. Finally, he spoke:

"I am in debt to the tribe for saving my life and, even more than that, I want to keep my word. Annela and I will have to patch things up between us as best we can."

"Well said, Ezra! I like you. I like your manliness."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that you say things straight and stick to your word; and you don't use tears or pleading to try and get what you want."

"I've not seen any of the Woodlanders do that."

"No, I'd see they'd get short shrift if they did; but it's in our womanly natures to try. You've told us about Earth-women and (reading between the lines) you seem to think they're needy and possessive."

"I never said that!" he exclaimed. "I merely said that a prospector's life is not conducive to long-term relationships."

Mirselene laughed at his protest.

"You don't need to justify yourself to me, Ezra. I also think women are too underhand and clingy to live with."

Ezra made to protest again but she stayed him with an upheld hand. It was clear she had her own idea of what he thought of women and his arguments would not turn her.

"I also like the fact that you didn't say you were lucky to be the only man on a planet full of women."

"Well, I have learned a few things in the six weeks I have been on Samothea. I admit that many men fantasise about being the only man in a society of women, thinking they would live like an Eastern potentate with a harem of willing servants. But it's really only a sexual fantasy."

"I think I know what you mean by an Eastern potentate, and by a sexual fantasy. I agree that reality is not the same. So here's my advice to you. Don't worry too much about Annela. I know the girl. She has a strong heart and her passions are long-lasting. If she truly loves you, she will still do so in five months' time when you are free to return to her."

The interview seemed over and Ezra turned to leave but when he got to the door Mirselene spoke again, in a quieter and kinder voice:

"Ezra, you do know why you're allowed only one bedmate at a time, don't you?"

"Yes. To prevent jealousy."

"If only we could prevent jealousy so easily," Mirselene sighed. "No, ask yourself how our little tribe could cope if two women bore children in the same month."

He nodded to show his comprehension.

"So even if Annela is not pregnant, or if her missed period does not turn into anything, she is off-limits to you until you have done with Urulla."

"I understand."

"And you will return to her then?"

"Yes," he said in a voice that meant "You try to stop me."

"Well, why are you still here? There's a wench out there who loves you. Go and make your last day together count!"

"I will," he said with resolve.

"Good man. Off you go."

Although Ezra looked for Annela he could not find her. She had gone into the forest to be unhappy. Even if he had searched in the right direction, she probably would not have heard him calling, she was so distracted.

Both returned to camp just before the feast began and they sat together without talking. They retired early to her hut, as usual, and undressed for bed. They lay on their sides, facing each other and, at last, she began to talk.




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 05



"I'm sorry I went off," Annela said, "but I couldn't face seeing you, knowing I have to give you up."

"I understand. You know I'm coming back to you?"

"I know it but I can't believe it. I think something will happen."

"What could happen?"

"Something. Anything. You've talked about going to salvage your ship. You could be drowned, or another tribe could take you..."

"Are these fears serious, Annela?"

"No. Probably not. I don't know. ... I'm sorry to be so stupid, but I don't want to lose someone I love again."

"Darling, I really do understand. And I promise I will come back to you. What can I do to prove it to you?"

"Nothing, Darling. Don't worry, I'm just being stupid. Will you hold me?"

She snuggled close as he wrapped his arms around her.

"Shall I tell you what Mirselene said to me today?" he asked.

"Go on."

"She said that if I asked her, she would annul the agreement and let us stay together."

Annela paused for a second.

"She wasn't serious," she concluded.

"I thought she was," Ezra admitted.

"But she knew you'd say No."

"Maybe, but I was tempted to say Yes."

"I wish you had."

"I wouldn't break my word and cause such disruption in the tribe. Mirselene believed that some tribeswomen might even leave."

"I doubt even Mirselene could find a clever way to stop anyone leaving. ... It would be a disaster if another tribe learned of your existence. I'm sure they would organize a raid and capture you, not caring if us Woodlanders perished. ... Ezra, you must know how precious you are to us all, not only to me."

He remained silent.

"That's why I want you to be bedmate with all of us. That's why - though it hurts me so much - I can accept you being Sharne's bedmate tomorrow."

"I knew you would want me to keep my word. You know I can't love Sharne, or anyone else."

"It's all right: I won't be jealous. ... You told me that, on Earth, some men have many wives; but can a man truly love more than one woman at the same time?"

"Yes, I'm sure we can, though I never have."

"Ezra, I want you to love all the Woodlander women. ... But ..."

"Yes, Sweetheart?"

"promise me you won't love them quite so much as me?"

He smiled. "I promise."

Annela was finally comforted but, after talking for so long, and spending many hours in tears, she was disinclined to make love, preferring just to be held. She turned over and snuggled her back against him while he held her safe and warm.

In accordance with their agreement with Mirselene, they didn't make love next morning, as they had almost every morning for the last four weeks, but got up early and enjoyed a good breakfast.

She kissed him to show she was over her unhappiness, then went foraging with Tamar while Ezra went to cut poles and make planks. He had at last begun work on his pet project, the earth closet, and was preparing the wooden beams, joists and panels for the frame. He would need the help of Sharne and Dagma to fix them together with pegs but there was plenty to do for now. There would also be a pit to dig and a roof to make.

Mid-day in the tropical forest of Samothea was always hot and sultry and Ezra had just sat down to take a swig of water and rest a minute when he saw Tamar returning with a full basket.

"Hello," he said, "Why are you on your own?"

"We filled our baskets when we got to the orchard so Annela wanted to rest under a tree. I didn't want to rest, so I came back to read my book. Annela didn't mind me leaving her alone."

"I see. Annela's at the apple grove?"

"Yes."

Ezra turned back to his work and began lining up the poles he had cut earlier.

"What are you doing?" Tamar asked.

"I'm making joists. I've cut these branches and now I'm going to make them the same length and whittle joints at their ends."

"What are they for?"

"It's a new crapper. I'm making a frame that'll stand over a pit. There'll be steps up to the seats and there'll be walls and even a roof, so it can be used during the night rain."

"Why do we need a new crapper?"

"Hmm, what?"

"Is the old crapper broken?"

"No. But this one will be where the wind will take the smell away from the camp and there should be less smell because the, er, effluence will be covered by earth."

"Why does it need steps and walls?"

"Sorry, what?"

Tamar could see she was distracting him. She didn't repeat her question but quietly left to get her book and help Pepi with her reading.

Ezra didn't notice her leave but a minute later he stopped whittling the joint and stood still. In principle, it was right that he and Annela were separated. He ought to rest from sex so he could have a proper first night with Sharne but, "Damn it all!," he thought, "I've not properly said 'goodbye'."

He dropped the stone chisel and began walking into the forest, absent-mindedly wiping his hands on his trousers, smearing the grime and sweat around. He was making toward the apple grove at a good pace.

It was a fifteen minute-walk and he was no less agitated when he arrived than he had been when he left.

He saw Annela across the clearing, on the edge of the grove. She was sitting with her back against a tree, idly swatting ferns near her feet with a stick.

"Annela!" he called.

She didn't look up. He ran across the clearing and stopped about six feet away from her.

"Annela."

She looked up, startled. She smiled at him and then frowned and looked down, as if she had only been dreaming.

"Annela, I don't care about Mirselene's rules. I will be with Sharne tonight only because you want me to but until then I'm going to be with you every moment I can."

She shook her head as if to clear her thoughts, then she smiled again, stood up, took a step, and another; and then ran and leapt at him, wrapping her legs and arms around his back, planting her mouth against his.

He staggered, caught his balance and held her tight. He walked a few paces and pushed her hard against the tree trunk. His cock was quickly stiff. He undid his trousers, pushed her skirt up, and sank his cock into her tight pussy. He began to ram her hard.

The tree-bark bit into her back. His rough sweaty hands were on the soft skin of her buttocks, gripping tightly. Her moans were of joy and relief. She didn't care about tomorrow but wanted this moment to last forever.

Thrust after thrust rubbed her back against the scaly bark and reminded her who she belonged to.

Her wet pussy squelched. Her heart raced. She sucked on his tongue. She moaned and, after a few minutes, she came, the spasm arriving like an surprise guest.

He continued ramming her, pulling his mouth away to gasp large breaths of air.

She came again, her squirt soaking his cock and running in dribbles along her buttocks onto the ground.

He thrust in again and again. She was beyond speech now. She felt the hot pleasure in her pussy and the tingling joy in her legs, in the small of her back and all over her skin. Another climax was building and she gasped as it approached.

Ezra was close to finishing as well. His eyes were shut and he put his mouth to her ear to whisper in a rasping voice in time with his thrusts:

"I ... love ... you."

Then he came, pushing in hard as his cock pulsed seed. A few thrusts more and she had a final climax, sweet and gentle like a polite hiccough.

He leaned against her, supported by the tree, his cock still in her vagina, until they could breathe normally. When he pulled out, she tried to stand but her legs shook and he had to hold her steady.

She laughed.

"I'm such a fool! We could have done this yesterday."

"You had to set your mind right. Now we can make up for lost time."

They walked hand-in-hand to a favourite spot by the stream about a mile away, where they had often made love on a bed of ferns. Here they stripped and lay down. Annela climbed on top and when Ezra had proved he was ready, rode him at a sedate and loving pace. She alternated between swivelling her pelvis in a figure of eight and making long sensual thrusts. He sucked her tits and ran his thumbnail along the curve of her spine.

When the time came, she thrust faster, balancing herself by holding his upright hands, their fingers intertwined.

She came first with a shaking orgasm and an ecstatic moan. A few more thrusts brought him off as well.

They rested an hour together before the next bout, lying on their backs in the ferns, looking up at patches of cloudless blue sky framed by the grey-green forest canopy. The stream gurgled happily nearby and a few irrepressible birds chirruped in the branches. They were a long way from the camp and it was unlikely anyone was close enough to hear them talk yet they spoke in whispers or just lay in silence, holding hands and breathing deeply.

Annela climbed back on Ezra and kissed him like she thought it was the last time they'd ever kiss.

When he was aroused enough, she climbed off, knelt on all fours and presented her bottom to him. He knelt behind her and kissed her back, working his way to her buttocks, starting her off with his fingers on her pussy. She squirmed prettily. Soon her sensitised clitoris retreated under its hood and he began to finger-fuck her. She began to buck and moan.

She folded her arms and rested her head on her forearms, pushing her bottom up higher to show she needed more than his finger. He knelt down and pushed his rock-hard cock into her tight vagina with a satisfied groan. This was doggy-style at its best for her because Ezra was so much taller and because he got maximum penetration.

He began thrusting, holding her by the hips. She bucked rhythmically and pretty soon was on that plateau of pleasure where she felt she was floating and every touch was like fire. She pushed the top of her head into the soft bracken fronds.

He gripped a tit when he started thrusting faster and she arched her back, lifting her head up, her mouth open, her eyes tight shut. He grunted and she moaned, human noise for once louder than the forest noises.

When it came, her orgasm had many peaks jolting her spine. She shook her head and cried out. "Oh, God!" Still he thrusted. He pulled all the way out and thrust all the way in, again and again. She could only moan and sigh, and cry "Oh!" when she squirted. 

Eventually his own peak arrived and he gripped her tightly and made his final few thrusts, fucking her hard until he unloaded inside her with a deep groan.

They rested again on their backs, holding hands. The hot sun shone at an angle through the trees, making carefree doodles on their bare skin. There wasn't much to say and not much energy to say it but occasionally they laughed together for no reason.

When she had the energy, Annela climbed onto Ezra in her favourite position, to rest her head on his chest or put her hands in his beard.

After a while, she said "One more time?"

"I'll try," he said gamely, "but I can't promise to finish."

She started with long passionate kisses. Then she moved to his neck and shoulders, with pecking kisses and small flicks of the tongue. By the time she had worked her way to the right side of his rib-cage, his cock was hard. He sat up and manoeuvred her onto her back. She spread her legs wide and he lay on her.

Though it was the fourth time that day, she moaned low in her throat when he pushed his well-used cock into her slick passage. Their love-making was slow and gentle, trying to make it last as long as possible. He bent his head down to take a tit into his mouth and she put her hands in his hair, holding him to her.

They fucked at this comfortable rate while the sun moved into the fourth quarter of the sky, lengthening the dull shadows of the trees that fell over his thrusting buttocks.

Annela was moaning loudly now, her eyes shut, her back arched, her body responding to the need built in her by his ownership.

Her climax was slowly building but Ezra's stamina was waning. Like a marathon runner, he dug deep and pushed himself, breathing heavily. He stopped to rest a minute and started again. When he stopped five minutes later to rest again, Annela indicated it was her turn.

He lay on his back and she climbed on him. At first she lay full length and moved only her hips, fucking as slowly as they had before. Then she straightened up a bit, pushing with her hands on his chest. She went a little faster now.

Ezra was pretty convinced he wouldn't be able to cum this time and was amazed Annela had the sex-drive to reach a climax herself but she seemed to be building nicely to yet another orgasm. The note of her moans deepened as her speed increased, her every breath was a gasp.

Now she lay back down on him and they shared the movement, thrusting together for the last few frantic minutes until, finally, she shook and gasped with a sexual spasm and, moments later, Ezra surprised himself with another joyful release.

Spent and exhausted, she collapsed on him and they lay together, satisfied at last, drifting into a short and silent sleep.

*****

It was sunset when they woke and they knew it was time to return to the camp. The water in the nearby stream was warm enough for a quick bath, so they dived in, washed off the sweat, semen and squirt of their marathon love-making and walked back toward the camp, carrying their clothes.

It was dark when they neared the camp, its fire a ghostly amber beacon flickering between the trees. They stopped and dressed and had a final kiss goodbye before crossing the clearing to the centre of the camp to take their places at the feast.

If they felt guilty about disobeying Mirselene, it was too late to apologise or make amends. Nothing was said, however, but platters of food were handed to them and, absurd though it sounded to their ears, polite enquiries made about their day.

"It was good," Annela's ears heard her mouth say, though she was sure her brain had not been involved. Ezra, who was sitting away from her, mumbled something himself, which seemed acceptable. The usual merry conversation continued around them and they were left in peace to think or eat as they desired.

Ezra ate ravenously: Annela picked carefully at a few morsels. Soon the platters were collected up and an expectant silence fell on the tribe. Mirselene stood to make an announcement. Annela held her breath, though she knew what was coming. Ezra was sanguine and ready to comply.

"Ladies," Mirselene said, "as you know, our cow Bessie is very old and barely gives any milk. ..."

This was not the announcement everyone expected.

"... You also know that, because of all your hard work, and the additional good work of Ezra, who is so handy at woodwork, we have already filled our quota of wooden tools, spears, poles and staffs for next month's trade."

There were nods all around. This was a welcome piece of news.

"It has therefore been suggested that we negotiate for a new cow, using up some of our stored goods and spending some Cloner Tokens. I take it you all understand what this means?"

There were more nods, but not from Wildchild, Tamar or Ezra, who asked to be told. Mirselene explained:

"It means that we ask the Mariners to get a price from either the Herders or the Cloners for a calf. The Herders may not be willing to sell an animal but the Cloners surely will. The risk is that the other tribes will wonder why we are spending Cloner Tokens on a cow when we haven't bought a child in eight years. As you know, we are still buying Cloner Tokens only to allay suspicion. My answer will be that we can wait another year for a child but not for a cow."

"Now that everyone understands, what is the general opinion of the policy? Shall we proceed and try to buy a new cow?"

There was a little discussion among the tribeswomen but the answer was a unanimous Yes.

"Thank you," Mirselene said. "Now that it's time to douse the fire and retire for the night, there is one more thing to say. Annela and Ezra have been bedmates for a month (plus a little bit) but it is time for Ezra to move on. This month Sharne and Ezra are bedmates. We all wish them a fruitful union."

This was the expected announcement and it was loudly seconded around the camp. Ezra stood and took his place by Sharne and Pepi, while Annela looked away and, soon afterward, went silently to her hut, followed by Erin, who tapped at the doorpost and walked in. She didn't stay long but later, just before the night rain began, Wildchild and Tamar, carrying their backpacks, extra pillows and blankets, entered Annela's hut.

It was clear that, though Annela had not wanted to be comforted, she wasn't going to be allowed to be alone. Indeed, Annela welcomed the two girls, who had been her guests in the first week they arrived at the Woodlanders' camp, when Annela had been Ezra's nurse.

Meanwhile, Pepi had been claimed by her Grandmother, leaving Sharne and Ezra to go to her hut alone. They had barely spoken.

In the hut, Sharne cleaned her teeth with a stick of soft bark dipped in a cup of salt-water. She offered him his own cup and stick.

When they had done, she invited Ezra to sit on the edge of the bed and sat next to him.

"Well," she said at last, "bedmates!"

"Yes, bedmates," he agreed.

Then she launched herself at him, her mouth on his, pushing him flat on the bed. She lay on him, kissing him deeply and, of course, he kissed her back.

Kissing, however, was all he did. There was no arousal: no blood pumping into his loins, no glands setting off an erotic fizz in his brain.

It was clear that Sharne had learned her lessons well from Annela's descriptions of sex with Ezra. She was full of erotic movements, running her hands on his body, spreading her legs to sit astride him. She was a good kisser, too, flicking her tongue in and out of his mouth. But she could also tell he wasn't responding. She pulled away and sat up.

"I, ... I'm doing it wrong, aren't I?" she said.

"No, you're not. It's me," he replied.

She shook her head in disbelief.

"Look, Sharne," he continued, "I have something to explain and to apologise for ..."

"It's all right, Ezra, I understand. I wouldn't expect you to fancy me after you've been with Annela."

"Oh, God! Sharne. It's not that. It's not that at all. I do fancy you. I mean you're strong and beautiful and sexy."

Ezra had come to know Sharne well from working with her in the woods and liked her very much. They often made each other laugh. He admired her strength and (as was natural in a healthy male, even one in love with another woman) often found himself physically attracted to her.

"It's just that I disobeyed Mirselene and went off with Annela this afternoon."

He left the implication silent. The truth was that had exhausted himself fucking Annela so many times, he had neither the sex-drive nor the energy to fuck Sharne as well.

"I'm sorry. It was thoughtless of me. I mean, I thought only of Annela, though I knew tonight would be our first night together. Please forgive me?"

"I know you love Annela."

"I do. But that won't stop me also loving you or any other of my bedmates."

"Even though I'm ugly?"

"Sharne! It's not true!"

How, he wondered, could such a strong and capable woman, a mother and, in practise, second-in-command to the chief lack self-confidence? True, she wasn't delicate and petite like Annela but she had an athlete's grace and, he just learned, very kissable lips. He also liked her curving buttocks. In fact, there were times when Sharne bent over to pick up a log or tool and he'd had an erection imagining what she would be like as a bedmate.

"Darling, you're not ugly. I will prove to you tomorrow how attractive I think you are. Just say you forgive me for spoiling our first night together and let's go to bed."

In the dark, she could not see him stifle a yawn but she heard the sleepiness in his voice.





Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 05



"And you'll call me 'Darling' will you?"

"If you'll let me."

It was Ezra's plan to call all his bedmates 'Darling' or 'Sweetheart' because, as a typical man, he was very likely to call one of them by the wrong name.

"Can we go to bed?" he asked.

"All right."

Sharne wasn't tired, but if he was, then there was nothing she could do. She took his explanation at face-value and suspended her judgment until tomorrow. Maybe he was sincere and did not think she was ugly.

She undressed and lay on the bed. He did the same and lay next to her. Only their arms touched. Then he took her hand in his, intertwining their fingers. They lay like that until he fell asleep, which was only a minute or two later. Perhaps he didn't hear her quietly say, "I forgive you."

******

In the morning, Sharne woke before Ezra. She was lying on her side and he was lying against her, his front to her back, an arm around her waist. Clearly it was how he slept with Annela. She thought he might have been dreaming of Annela because his hard cock pressed against her bottom.

Her stirring woke him and he pulled her into a closer cuddle.

"Good morning, Sharne," he said, his early-morning brain performing wonders.

"Good morning."

"Well, isn't this cosy?"

She had to laugh.

"I suppose it is."

("Damn it!" she thought to herself. "I'm a grown woman of thirty-six, not a neophyte of twenty. I can say what I need and want. I could say 'Fuck me now!'.")

She didn't need to. He rolled her onto her back and rolled himself onto her, his hands under her shoulders. She automatically put her arms around his neck and spread her legs.

"Now to make up for last night. You want it?"

Her affirmative answer was muffled because he had pressed his mouth against hers and, pretty soon, she was responding with an enthusiastic tongue to his kiss.

She felt his hand move to her breast and his fingers toy with the nipple. His cock was warm against her thigh and belly. Curiosity made her put a hand down to feel it. He lifted his pelvis so she could put her hand around his cock and dropped his own hand to her pussy and began to fondle her, his fingertips softly diddling her clitoris. She clearly loved it. She began to moan and gripped his cock.

He kissed his way down her neck and shoulder and began to lap at a nipple. At the same time, he began to rub his fingers across her vulva. She was already wet and her nether lips squelched as he fondled her. She arched her back and spread her thighs wider, moaning deeper in her throat.

Her nipples were black and rubbery. He sucked at one and then the other, then he took as much of a tit as he could into his mouth and gave it a good suck. Her tits were bigger than Annela's but not as firm. (Ezra cursed himself for making the comparison). He basted them, while slipping an exploring finger into her vagina. She arched and bucked her pelvis to swallow his finger.

He felt around and found her g-spot and the tight ligaments and muscles that gave her the best sensation. She moaned her disappointment when he removed his finger from her vagina, but he returned to fondling her outer lips and clitoris. One tit or the other was in his mouth now and he licked and sucked greedily.

When he began to kiss his way down her chest and over her stomach, she had to let go of his cock. She laid her hands flat on the bed and surrendered herself to whatever Ezra wanted.

His lips traced the outline of her taut stomach muscles as he worked his way across her belly, returning to kiss up the sides of her stomach. Her athletic waist was thin from front to back but more or less straight from ribs to hips. Her thighs were round and strong and she had large round buttocks that were sensitive to has hands. Doggy-style was going to be fun, he thought.

Ezra found he was enjoying making love to Sharne, who seemed to respond to everything he did.

He kissed down to her thick black pubic hair and parted the tight curls to tongue her clitoris. That got her engine going. She tasted good and he gave her clit a tongue-lashing which revved her up into second gear. She bucked her pelvis. Her moans were throaty and urgent. They ended with a disappointed sigh when he pulled his mouth away from her clitoris.

He wanted a look at her pussy. He folded back her brown labia to reveal the smooth pearly pink lining inside and ran a teasing finger along the slit and around the entrance to her vagina. She groaned expectantly, liking his touch but wanting more. She got more teasing. He flicked his tongue into her slit and licked around her labia, raising her tension by sucking her lower lips or her clit but not giving her any real satisfaction.

Satisfaction came when he plunged a finger into her vagina, angled upward to find the rough spongy patch. It was third gear now and she was bucking rhythmically. He pushed in another finger and jerked them quickly up and down. Her twat made a sloppy noise as she soaked his hand. She came again and then crunched herself up, raising her knees and trying to move his hand away, rolling to one side.

"You liked that?" he asked as she lay there, breathing heavily.

She didn't answer, but when he leant over her to hold her, she grabbed him, pulling him in for a kiss, and holding him tightly. She had strong arms and he had to hold the bedstead to lever himself into the right position to push her onto her back. He forced her legs open with his knees, lay on her and sank his stiff cock into her expectant willing twat.

Their first moments of coupling were thrilling. She was pretend-fighting him and he had to use all his strength to force her arms onto the bed. He gripped her hands in his, fingers intertwined, and pushed them with bent elbows beside her head. Then he slid his cock into her again, fucking her slowly then pumping faster as she responded with passion, gripping his hands hard and raising her knees to put her legs over his back.

It turned her on that he was taking charge so forcefully. Her gasping moans were earthy and loud, forced out of her by every thrust, until she finally reached a peak and, holding her breath, shook with a joyful spasm.

He pulled out and lay beside her, letting her rest a minute; then he lay back and invited her on top. Clearly, Sharne was trying to practise what Annela had explained about sex with a man because she climbed on him with relish and positioned herself in almost the right place first time. She shuffled a little, put her hand down to guide his cock, and then enveloped it in her well-lubricated vagina.

Lucky Ezra indeed! Annela's lessons had given the Woodlanders the idea that the woman is most often on top during sex. This was due to Ezra's injury but it suited him well. If he was going to be having sex twice a day (which Annela had also taught the Woodlanders was normal), he needed to conserve his energy. The Woodlanders were fit and healthy (and none so strong as Sharne), so why shouldn't they do most of the work?

He sucked her tits again as Sharne rode him, her strong thighs keeping up the rhythm effortlessly. He lay back and let the sensual pleasure run over him. The sight of her stomach muscles bunching, her tits jiggling and beads of sweat on her forehead as she rode him were delightful. Her low moans catching in her throat were also a turn-on. He caressed her waist as he relaxed back, trying not to succumb to the erotic dance, trying to make the fucking last as long as possible.

She sped up her thrusting and leant backward (again, Annela's lessons learned well). He couldn't resist much longer. She felt another climax imminent. She grabbed his hands and held them hard to her tits as she pumped him fast. In a minute there was blank look on her face, her eyes rolled up and he felt the spasm in her body. Her thighs juddered. His own spasm followed immediately and he spunked warm white semen into her greedy snatch.

She pumped her pelvis a few more times as the tension ebbed away. His hands were still holding her tits. He guided her gently down to lie on him and relax. It was a few minutes before she could talk but her first words were:

"Yes, I forgive you. Yes, I want it. And Yes, I liked it, very much. ... When can we do it again?"

***

The day after Ezra took Sharne as his bedmate, Annela left Wildchild and Tamar in her hut as she went to do her morning chores. There they conferred and reached a decision. Later that morning, when the girls saw Ezra taking a rest from constructing the new crapper, they took him a short way into the forest for a private talk.

Tamar said: "Can we tell you something?"

"You can tell me anything; though I can guess what you're going to say. You're leaving for the mountains soon, aren't you?"

"Yes. We've decided to go at the end of the week. We wanted to tell you first because we like you best. Though we like Annela best as well. And Carlin and Erin."

"I understand. I wish you luck."

Though he preferred the girls would stay, Ezra knew they were determined and entirely able to survive on their own, so he would never try to dissuade them. He said:

"I know you'll be careful but I hope you'll have a safe journey because I want you to come back."

"We will be careful and we both want to come back." Wildchild nodded in agreement.

"Can I help you prepare for your journey?"

"We need as much dry food as we can carry."

"Of course. We can go and harvest figs tomorrow and dry them in the sun. Would that be useful?"

"Thanks, Ezra, I'll come with," Tamar said. "Wildchild is going hunting."

"I'm sure Mirselene will allow you to fill your swag bags with dried meat and salt-fish. You can have any share I'm due as well."

"Thank you."

"You know I said I wouldn't ask you again to guide me to where my ship sank but I've been thinking: what if I could guarantee your safety from the Herders?"

"How?" Tamar asked and Wildchild showed a wary interest.

"What if the Woodlanders could make an agreement with the Mariners? Mirselene gave me the idea when she talked about negotiating for a new cow. ... You told me I'd need the Mariners' help to dive down to the ship, so what about an alliance between the two tribes? Would the allied tribes have enough people to scare off the Herders?"

"Maybe, but the Herders have horses." Wildchild was shaking her head.

"All right, so I have more thinking to do but if I can make an alliance, will you reconsider?"

There was a short silent conference and this time Wildchild nodded.

"We'll think about it," Tamar said, which satisfied Ezra.

"Good girls. ... So when will you announce your departure to the tribe?"

"Tomorrow, at the feast."

"Very well. I'll support you all I can, though I can't see why anyone would object. .. By the way, please don't mention my own plan to anyone yet."

"Of course we won't."

With that agreement, they walked back to the camp. Ezra was thinking seriously about how to salvage his ship and he knew he would need the agreement of Mirselene, which was not something he could predict, so distrustful of the other tribes was she.

Part of Ezra's motivation in supporting the girls on their trek to the mountains was also the fact that Wildchild would be eighteen in a few weeks. By his agreement with Mirselene, Ezra had to take all the fertile Woodlanders age eighteen or older as bedmates and it concerned him that, now Wildchild had been adopted into the tribe, she might want to be his bedmate after Urulla. Or she might be persuaded by Mirselene to agree to be his bedmate. The problem was that Ezra still thought of her as a child.

When Wildchild and Tamar rescued him from the sea about six weeks ago, she had looked to him about fourteen by Earth standards. Although both girls had put on a spurt of growth in the last month or so, she still looked about fifteen or sixteen. Having the two of them go on a reasonably safe adventure to the mountains would push that problem away for some time.

***

At the feast the next day, Tamar made her announcement. There were exclamations of concern and attempts to dissuade the girls but there was no real pressure because Mirselene, who had authority as well as vast persuasive powers, stuck to her word. She had promised to help the girls all she could when they decided to move on and she repeated her promise now, adding her fervent hope the girls would return safe and successful in finding the Miners.

Then, in a rare moment of silence, a thin quiet voice spoke, someone rarely heard in large gatherings. It was Carlin, who had summoned up the courage to say something.

"Mother," she said, "I would like to go with Wildchild and Tamar, if they will take me."

"No, Darling," Erin responded automatically, "I don't want you to go. It's too dangerous."

Carlin blushed red and looked down. There was silence. The tribe was waiting for Mirselene to speak but the great woman was unwilling to intercede between a mother and her daughter. The silence continued. Out of sympathy for Erin, no one asked the obvious question, until Ezra spoke up:

"Forgive my interference, Erin," he said, "but what danger is there? If it's too dangerous for Carlin, who has lived in the forest all her life and can handle a bow and arrow, then surely it's too dangerous for Tamar as well. But (so far as I can see) we have only tried to dissuade the girls from leaving because we want them here with us, not because we fear for their safety."

Erin looked unhappily at Ezra but did not answer. It was the shock of Carlin's sudden declaration that had made her forbid it. If she had thought about it, she realised, then it was not such an outrageous idea.

Annela knew Erin to be well-balanced and biddable. She took her friend's hand and said:

"Darling, I think you should re-consider Carlin's request." (It was typical of Annela that she would call Carlin's brave declaration a 'request'.) "Wouldn't this be a wonderful experience for her? She could see the ice-lakes, the volcanoes and perhaps even meet the Miners. Wouldn't you have wanted to go on a great adventure before you were too encumbered by work and motherhood? I know I would have, had there been the chance."

Erin had indeed had an adventure of sorts: she had trekked to the Cloner City and lived there for nine months while she conceived and bore Carlin. How could she forbid her daughter from enjoying her own adventure? She was almost persuaded when Mirselene herself spoke up.

"It is your decision, of course, Erin. You are responsible for your daughter until she is eighteen, and I know she is a dutiful girl who would not disobey you. But I also wish I'd had a similar opportunity when I was her age. I'm not sure I would have been so dutiful if my mother had forbidden me."

It was the look of joy on Carlin's face when their chief also supported her that finally persuaded Erin. With tears in her eyes, she hugged her daughter and said: "All right. You can go, but promise me you'll be careful and not take any risks."

"I promise, Mum," the girl assured her, "but I don't yet know if Wildchild and Tamar are willing to take me."

Curiously, no one had thought to ask the girls, who conferred quickly and decided that three would be better on this trek than two. Carlin was very welcome to come.

Besides accidents, the only real danger might have come from the Herders; but the girls were safe while they were in the forest, which stretched to the foot of the White Mountains, and it was very unlikely they would meet any Herders in the mountains themselves.

It was seven weeks since the new-comers had been adopted into the tribe. Wildchild and Tamar had stayed this long because they enjoyed life in the forest, picking up tricks and skills for their future trek, especially archery. It was Wildchild who said it was time to move on and, because Tamar had finished reading all four books of Mirselene's library, she agreed.

On the morning the girls were leaving, the whole camp rose early to share a hearty breakfast and wish them a safe journey. Erin, Annela, Ezra, Sharne, Pepi and (to Ezra's surprise) Dagma set off to walk the first hour with the girls. Erin embarrassed Carlin one last time by insisting on carrying her backpack. The girl was too shy to make a fuss, though she clearly wanted to show her independence from her very first step outside the camp.

Wildchild changed the mood of the occasion, however, by doffing her own substantial backpack and imperiously holding it out to Ezra to carry for her, like he was her native bearer. They laughed as he pretended to stagger under the weight of her hefty baggage.

When Sharne had taken up Tamar's backpack, the party could properly begin the trek.

They chatted amiably, trying to cheer Erin, but when they reached the far side of the banana plantation, it really was time to let the girls go on their own. There were kisses and hugs all around. Pepi clung on to Carlin even longer than Erin, who resisted weeping for her daughter's sake. Ezra thought he had a moment of real understanding with Wildchild when he said:

"I know you'll be back. I need you to come back!"

She smiled and kissed his cheek. It was the first time he had known her kiss anyone.

The escorting party watched the adventurers as they slowly disappeared through the trees into the dense forest.

After a mile or so, they would again pick up the same small river that meandered through the forest to run by the Woodlander's camp. They would follow the river upstream, at an increasing gradient, passing small waterfalls and silent pools, to its origin in the terminal lake at a glacier in the foothills of the White Mountains.

Here they would leave the forest and cross the glacier. Then there was a dormant volcano to walk around, behind which the peaks of the White Mountains temporarily disappeared, and across a valley to the mountains proper, when the hard climb would begin.

It was Sharne who explained this itinerary but here she stopped because it was a generation or more since anyone had been further than the slopes of the volcano and she didn't know the terrain beyond. Dagma, who had been stomping along in silence, added the rumours she had heard and the two got engaged in a discussion that could not be settled until the girls returned or the women themselves made the trip.

They walked with Pepi between them, holding her hands and occasionally swinging her up.

Ezra looked over at Annela. At first, she had walked with her arm around Erin, sustaining her friend at a sad time. Now Erin seemed comforted and was walking alone, deep in thought.

Ezra went over to Annela and said "Hello."

"Hello, yourself."

"How are you?"

"Fine. How are you getting on with Sharne?"

"Very well, thanks. I love you."

"Shush! Ezra! She'll hear!"

"She knows. Everyone knows."

"But still, it's not considerate, to me as well as to Sharne."

"You're right, I'm sorry. I don't love you."

"Now you're being stupid."

He was pleased she could joke.

"You'll miss the girls more than anyone, I think."

"I will," she agreed. "In fact, I'm going to move in with Erin for a while. We'll comfort each other."

"Good idea."

They walked a few minutes in silence. He wanted to take her hand, but that really would be inconsiderate to Sharne. He also had a question about Mirselene and wanted to talk to Annela about it. This was partly habit and partly a sense of communion with Annela he did not yet have with Sharne.

"One thing puzzles me about Mirselene," he said.

"Go on."

"Why did she allow Carlin to go with the girls when children are so precious to the Woodlanders?"

"I know, it seems a puzzle but it's a calculated risk. I think she sees much less danger in the journey than others do. Also, I think there's a compliment to you here."

"To me?"

"I think she can see how potent you are and is generally optimistic about you impregnating many of us. When the girls get back, who knows how many Woodlanders there'll be?"




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 06



Chapter 6 Ezra's duty

[Thank you for your votes and supportive comments. They are much appreciated.]

[Ezra is doing his sexual duty to the Woodlander women in this order: Annela (aged 24), Sharne (aged 37), Dipti (aged 33), Dagma (aged 28) and Urulla (aged 19). His current bedmate is Sharne.]

[Wildchild, Carlin and Tamar are on a trek to the White Mountains, the home of the lost Miners tribe.]

***

Sharne and Ezra were alone in the forest.

It was a sultry windless afternoon. The sky was cloudless but more yellow than blue. The chattering birds were quieter than normal. There was tension in the air. The hot afternoon had an electric charge that only a storm would relieve.

It was the end of their first week together and Ezra was doing his sexual duty conscientiously and with great pleasure every night and some mornings but they had not yet spent time alone during the day because they always worked with Dagma. Today, however, Dagma had remained in the camp to attend to something her mother wanted.

They finished laying cut logs in a pile. Sharne bent down to collect her tools and when she looked up, Ezra was gazing at her. Their eyes met and she saw something in him she had not seen before but had been hoping to find. It was a look of raw sexual hunger.

She felt a constriction in her throat and her mouth began to water. Her legs - her strong round legs - felt weak. She kept his gaze at first, soft brown eyes inviting the penetration of dark blue ones, then she looked down. She felt rather than saw him approach and dropped her tools the moment he grabbed her by the waist. She curved into his body as he forced his mouth on hers.

His hands roamed over her pliant body as they kissed. He pushed up her shirt and felt a hardened nipple against the palm of his hand.

She lifted her arms to help him pull her shirt off then sighed heavily when he planted his mouth on her tit. She held his head against her chest. He sucked greedily. His exploring hand pushed into her trousers and cupped her pussy, a finger lying along her moist slit. He began to rub a circle on her vulva and her knees went weak again.

She felt a contest in his body between the greedy lust that was pushing him to fuck her right now and a desire to take things as slowly as possible, to savour her body, to make her wait, even to beg for it.

They were lying on the floor now, an impromptu bed made from her cloak and his clothes. She wriggled out of her trousers and spread her thighs. He pulled her legs up and told her to hold them, then he went to work on her with his tongue, starting with pecking kisses and soft strokes with his fingers around her mound and along her thighs.

His licking was light and teasing, taking his time before targeting her clit, then moving to her labia and sucking on one side then the other, stopping when she got too aroused. He licked gently along her slit or kissed the gap between her thighs and pussy, returning to her clit to build her tension again and moving off when she began to squirm.

On the sixth repeat, he pushed a forefinger into her vulva. She was wet and breathing heavily. He pushed further into her vagina and explored its ridges and tendons with a careful finger-tip. That raised the tension for her too much. She was on the edge but he could read her well by now and removed his finger and stopped licking before her climax could begin.

In frustration, she gave a deep-throated needy groan and lost hold of her legs. He waited for her to calm down, pushed her legs up and began again. She crooked her elbows over the backs of her knees and held tightly. She was flexible but it was a strain to keep the position when she wanted so much to be fucked. Beads of sweat grew on her forehead.

He lapped at her slit, spread her labia with two fingers and pushed his tongue in. Her eyes were tight shut and she moaned from the delicious heat in her pussy.

Again he stopped as she approached a peak and left her squirming, wanting more. She held her breath and stopped herself speaking. She didn't want to beg to be finished off before he was ready.

He went down on her again and sucked her clitoris into his mouth, flicking it around with his tongue. It was hard and sensitive so he went carefully. He had one finger in her snatch. He pushed in another finger, spreading her wetness. Her pussy dripped over his fingers and down her smooth buttocks.

He rested his finger-tips on her g-spot, put his mouth over the top of her pussy to make a suction and did his special trick. He gently pressed his fingers onto the rough spongy patch, sucked hard and released, sucked and released, making her coo and moan loudly every time.

Sharne's brain was too fogged with pleasure and frustrated desire to count how many times she had the amazing sensation of having her sweet spot swell and pump with blood. This treatment brought her so close to a climax that she thought he must let her go over the next time but he was on the watch for her spasm and each time pulled quickly away. Sharne let go her legs again and writhed in frustration.

This time he pushed only one of her legs back up and lay on her.

"Oh, God!" she said. "Please, now!"

Ezra remained silent but she saw him smile and she regretted asking. Her left leg was stretched out and trapped under him. He had her right tit in one hand and with his other hand, grabbed the soft curls of her hair and pulled her head back so he could kiss her neck.

He pushed the head of his cock into the entrance of her pussy. She sighed in relief but he withdrew immediately and did it again. And again. And again. More teasing. More tension.

He put his left hand down to guide his cock, moving the tip up and down her slit, coating it with her buttery juices and smearing it onto her clitoris. He again pushed his cock an inch into her vagina and withdrew, repeating over and over. She couldn't move. She needed to do something. She wanted so much to fuck him, to suck his cock into her pussy and orgasm on it.

"Please, Ezra, please. Make me cum!"

"Say you're my sexy beautiful woman."

He spoke gruffly, interspersed with grunts as he pushed in another inch and withdrew then held back in until she spoke.

"Oh! God! Ezra, I'm your sexy beautiful woman."

He thrust all the way in. She moaned loudly. He pulled out again and stayed out.

"I'm going to make you wait," he said.

"Oh, God! It's not fair, please?"

"I'm using what's mine as I like."

He started fucking her again, penetrating an inch at a time and withdrawing. She was on the edge of cumming but he was tantalising her, fucking her too slowly to bring her off.

"Oh, God! Please?" she begged again.

His slow thrusts went in and out all the way now. She struggled to move her pelvis, to increase the rhythm but, despite her strength, his weight was too much for her to get any movement. God! She wanted to be on top so she could bring them both off.

She had been too long in that position. Sharne was flexible but no longer a young women.

"Please, Ezra? My leg."

He understood and raised himself up. She pushed her leg out and spread it wide to relieve the tensed muscles.

Now, she hoped, he would fuck her to the finish and make her cum. She tried to pull him down to kiss her but he resisted. He pulled up her other leg instead and lay on her, like before, rebuilding the tension. He pushed his cock into her, just a little and kept it there. She was about to moan but it came out as a gasp as he sank all the way in.

Still fucking her too slowly to bring her off straight away, he gradually picked up speed, finally allowing her to rise toward her climax. She put her arms around his neck, digging her nails into his shoulders. Now he pumped her hard, the strain in her leg giving her added sensation. He breathed heavily and gripped her tightly.

She felt the orgasm starting a long way off. It grew as if it were happening to someone else. Then she couldn't deny the heat in her pussy was her own. The warmth spread to her back. Her breath caught. Her nipples felt the strain.

As the spasm began, her eyes rolled up in her head and her tongue popped out of the side of her mouth. Her muscles clenched his cock and she cried out. Still he rammed her. She convulsed again, moaning loudly.

Hot joy spread from her pussy along her belly to her throat. Her free leg shook. She slapped her hands onto the ground and tried to arch her back but was still trapped, able to respond to his thrusts only with spasms and moans.

A third climax engulfed her. Now Ezra was close. He closed his eyes and put effort into the last dozen strokes. Sharne had another gasping orgasm and, finally, he felt the joyful moment himself. He rammed hard into her a last time and pulsed his seed out in a long satisfying discharge.

Afterward, he released her leg but still lay on her, his cock soft in her pussy, stroking her, kissing her neck and shoulders, letting her ride the aftershocks of her nerve-shredding orgasms. She arched and her legs shook one more time, then she lay still, satiated and silenced.

He rolled off her and lay on his back. They were both warm and relaxed and happy not to talk. He slipped his hand into hers and they lay together under the sun, the tension relieved - until the next time.

***

The following day, Ezra finished making the parts for the new crapper and dug the hole. Now it needed to be put together.

Sharne was keen to help with the construction. Dagma surprised him by also volunteering to help. He thought she disliked him. She rarely spoke when they worked together but she worked hard and, in a few hours, the three of them had fixed the frame together with pegs, manoeuvred it over the pit and attached the steps.

When it was ready, the whole tribe came to admire, though they weren't entirely clear why they needed a new crapper. They were used to the smell of the old one and going to the toilet had always been a communal activity, however understanding they were of Ezra's peculiar need for privacy.

The new crapper took Woodlander culture into account, however: there were two single-seater cubicles with doors and an open four-seater bench between them, so customers could choose either privacy or company.

Trying out the new crapper in public was a very odd ceremony. The privacy of the closed cubicles was undermined by the presence of the entire tribe calling encouragement to those who first mounted the steps to sit at a hole in a bench. Ezra almost laughed when the women cheered the plops of admirably large contributions to the pit.

Despite its oddity, the new crapper quickly became popular. There was a large pile of earth and ash to throw on the pit after a visit and a rake to smooth the surface. Everyone agreed that the new crapper smelled less than the old, so Ezra was encouraged to work on its roof, so it could be used during the night rain.

The roof was finished a day later, then Sharne, Dagma and Ezra began to mend and improve every wooden structure that needed attention, from hut roofs to the benches around the camp-fire.

Dipti, Ezra's future bedmate, asked to have her bed strengthened. Again, Ezra admired the sexual honesty of the Woodlanders when she said to him, "Will you double up on the supports, please? It will need to be very strong."

Not everyone admired her openness.

"She can't wait to get her hands on him," Sharne whispered to Dagma. "You can almost smell her anticipation."

It was a moment of unusual bitchiness which she regretted immediately. Luckily, no one else heard and Dagma was like a locked safe for not passing on gossip.

The next big event was the monthly trade, in which Mirselene's order for a cow was placed and Cloner Tokens delivered. Casti represented the tribe and was pleased to report only a few minor price rises for the next three months and that no one asked why the Woodlanders were spending tokens on a cow rather than a new child.

When Ezra and Sharne had been bedmates for two weeks, anyone who could count knew it was about this time that Sharne would begin to ovulate. Ezra didn't count but he noticed how warm Sharne felt and that her vaginal fluid was thicker and more sticky than usual. The next few days were critical and they had sex so often that Sharne imagined she squelched when she walked.

Annela had missed her period again and had begun properly to hope but the only sign she might be pregnant was her heightened colour and her sparkling eyes. None the less, Parvinder began to stockpile medicines and bandages. For the last time, she took her concerns to Mirselene, saying it would be safer for a pregnant woman to be at the Cloner City, where they had more medical equipment. Mirselene was not swayed, however, replying that Annela was young and strong and that, as soon as the secret of Ezra was out, they would surely lose him forever.

Parvinder therefore took to whittling what she hoped would be unnecessary (and certainly unsanitary and painful) obstetric tools in case of complications.

Despite Ezra's best efforts, Sharne was not so lucky as Annela this time. In the third week, her period came. She was disappointed yet she knew Ezra had performed manfully. He intended to stay with her until the end of their allotted month and she was happy at first that he stayed. He was unfailingly kind and attentive to her but by the third day, Sharne felt something odd that she couldn't quite communicate to him.

It was not about sex. Though she was just as horny now as before her period, she was also happy that Ezra had not asked her to suck his cock or wank him. She would have complied, of course, but he was too understanding to ask. That was irritating in itself.

His thoughtfulness in pretending he didn't want sex was particularly annoying to her that morning. She knew he was horny because she felt his erection prodding into her back when she woke.

The three woodcutters went to work that day in the orchard, thinning saplings. Dipti, Urulla and Annela were already there, plucking fruit. Sharne called Annela over to talk privately while Dagma and Ezra prepared to begin work and the foragers moved on into the grove.

"Can you do me a favour, Annela?"

"Of course. What is it?"

"Take Ezra away and fuck his brains out."

Annela's eyes boggled.

"What? Why? ... er, What's going on, Sharne?"

"I need you to make Ezra happy while I'm temporarily disabled."

"Of course I will." She licked her lips. "But I don't understand. Please explain."

"It's Ezra. He's too damn kind and understanding. It's infuriating! I think he's even more upset than me about not conceiving this time and he's always asking me how I feel. This morning, when I told him I was fine, he hugged me and said, 'Sharne, I understand, you'll talk about it when you're ready.'"

Annela laughed out loud.

"It's your own fault. When I explained about sexual relationships, all you and Urulla wanted to know was the mechanics of sex. I never got to tell you about the psychological peculiarities of Earthwomen."

"What are they?"

"Well the significant one here is that when an Earthwoman says she's 'fine', she never is and a man risks a serious row if he can't discover what's really wrong; which, of course, she refuses to say."

"That's daft!"

"It gets worse! If the man can't tell what's wrong, he has to guess, but if he shows he's only guessing and not knowing intuitively, then it's worse than not trying to understand at all."

"That's ridiculous! Why are Earthwomen like that?"

"This bit is unclear but I think that Earthwomen fantasise about sexual relationships in which the partners are so finely attuned they can read each other's minds."

"Earthwomen believe in telepathy?"

"Only a kind of sexual communion. An Earthwoman seems to believe that if a man truly loves her, then he'll instinctively know what she feels without having to be told; just as she thinks she instinctively knows what he feels without him saying so. The romantic ideal for Earthwomen is a sort of unspoken psychological unity."

"And what's the romantic ideal for Earthmen?"

"An easy life, I think, and lots of sex - so they try to guess the minds of women as best they can, hoping to be more right than wrong."

"I don't believe a word of it. I think Ezra's pulling your leg. Whenever he talks to me about women, he's never disparaging but shows how much he respects us. At least, he's always generous about our foibles and only critical of men. According to you, he thinks Earthwomen are irrational."

"All women are, sometimes. You know that. The same is apparently true of men."

"So why do men and women bother living together at all: why not meet up just for sex?"

"Because men and women are irrational in different ways. They don't really understand each other, which makes sexual relationships interesting. A little misunderstanding, even a little conflict, can be exciting."

"I think these are your words rather than Ezra's."

Annela laughed again, a guilty look on her face.

"I may have embellished a little on what Ezra told me but I think I have it substantially right. Ezra told me about a girlfriend who expected him to predict the weather whenever they went out and, if he guessed badly, would blame him for making her wear the wrong clothes."

Annela expected Sharne to laugh at this absurdity but the older woman pondered the anecdote seriously.

"Besides," Annela continued, "there is also love, which makes people stay together despite their differences, sometimes even forever, or so Ezra says," she added wistfully.

Sharne absorbed this idea too and then returned to her original query.

"So I just need to tell Ezra that I really am fine and he'll stop worrying about me?"

"If that's what you want, then yes."

"So I don't need you to make him happy for me," she said with a crafty smile.

"Oh, no you don't!" Annela responded, hitching up her dress to run to Ezra. "No backtracking!"

At last, Sharne laughed.

"All right. Off with the both of you."

"Ezra!" Annela called out to him. "The boss says we're to get lost in the forest. Come on."

He looked at Sharne for confirmation as Annela tugged on his arm, leaning back with all her weight, trying to pull him along. Sharne smiled and gaily waved him away, so he stepped toward Annela who yelped as she started to fall.

She laughed when he caught her, then pulled him away into the forest, her arms around his waist.

"I'm not sure what I've done to deserve this," he said, "but I'm not going to risk anything by asking."

Sharne noticed Dagma's disapproving frown as she looked at the retreating couple. As usual, she didn't understand her friend.

"Mirselene doesn't need to know about this," Sharne said.

"I'm not talking," her friend assured her. "I just wonder why ..."

"Why what?"

"Never mind."

Sharne let her friend alone and the two women quietly picked up their axes and began to trim the trees in the orchard.

By an unspoken agreement, Annela and Ezra found their way to their favourite spot, a dense stand of soft ferns by one of the small tributaries of the main stream that coursed past the camp a mile or so away.

There they stood and kissed, gently and lovingly, like old lovers who found each other again. It was passion on a long slow burn.

He undressed her slowly, kissing each part of her body as it was revealed. Her white shoulders with a few freckles, her thin arms, the back of her neck, moving her long light-red hair to one side. The dress fell to her hips and he knelt down as he kissed along her spine. He turned her slowly, kissing around her thin waist to her taut flat stomach, pulling away to admire her belly which - he was sure - had just a hint more of curve than before.

He could see her small round tits and wondered if it was only in his imagination that they seemed a trifle bigger. Her nipples were hard.




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 06



Her dress flopped to the floor and she stood naked in a shaft of sunlight, a sexy wood-nymph, pink and white in the grey-green forest, her long red-gold hair flowing over her shoulders, a bush of golden curls in a triangle between her belly and thighs. Pink lips and pink nipples. She was warm but felt a shiver of anticipation.

He flattened the ferns and guided her onto her back. She pulled him onto her and they lay together and kissed. When he felt she wanted more, he kissed down her body to her tits and worked on them, licking and sucking gently, keeping his touches light and loving.

Again, the tone of Annela's responses told him when she wanted more and he kissed down her belly to her mound, stroking her thighs and spreading them apart.

He started on her inner thighs, kissing down to her mound and then by-passing it to kiss her other thigh. He went back the other way, kissing her belly this time and letting his fingers gently explore her bush. She was warming up nicely. He saw a line glistening along her pink slit.

He kissed around her mound again and this time parted the hair to flick the tip of his tongue on her clitoris.

"Ooh!," she moaned. He did it again. She raised her knees and shifted her bottom but he declined the invitation to concentrate on her clit and pussy but went back to kissing her thighs. He worked from one thigh to the other again, spending time on her clit and dabbing his finger tip into the folds of her pussy, then withdrawing.

He performed the same routine again and again, licking and fingering for longer each time, drawing ever closer to tonguing her properly but always pulling back when she bucked or moaned.

Annela knew she had to be patient. Ezra could tease her like this for hours. But she was nicely worked up now. He could smell her arousal.

This time when he reached her clit, he didn't move on but licked in a pattern with the tip of his tongue.

"Oh, God!" she sighed. "Just like that. Just .. like ... that. ... Please, Darling, more!" She ended in a whimper.

Ezra pushed his forefinger into her wet snatch, held it flat and pulled downward.

"Oh, God!" she cried out and began to buck, trying to push her pelvis into his face, wanting more.

Ezra continued the same treatment, gradually licking her clit with faster, longer strokes, pushing his whole tongue into her slit, sucking her lips between his, and making a zigzag movement with his tongue, meanwhile feeling around in her vagina for the tightest muscles to stretch.

He stopped for a minute to frustrate her, then he repeated. She was squirming all the time now, more than ready to be fucked and, just as urgently, wanting to cum on his tongue and finger. He stopped and forced her to relax.

When he began again, she grabbed his head to keep his mouth in place and even tried to hold him with her feet on the back of his shoulders.

He gave her five more minutes of teasing then decided she deserved an orgasm. He attacked her clit with his tongue, lashing it from side to side and sucking it into his mouth to lash it more.

"Oh, God! Ezra," she cried again and her legs shook.

He pushed his finger back into her vagina with the tip turned up. He rubbed the sweet spot with a come-hither motion and she convulsed. The soft cushioned walls of her vagina kneaded his finger and tried to eject it. He continued rubbing.

She arched, and came, and arched again, soaking his tongue and finger.

"Oh, my God! Ezra. Oh, my God! Enough!"

"Enough!" she repeated in a whisper.

This was a genuine request. He stopped fingering her but left his tongue on her clit. She had a couple of aftershocks, where her muscles bunched and relaxed and a warm contentment spread to her legs and arms.

He let her calm down, gently caressing her belly and thighs, placing a few pecking kisses on her tits and neck. She opened her eyes, smiled and him and then grabbed him and held her to him in a powerful hug while the burst of joy ebbed slowly away.

He stripped off his clothes and lay on his back. She climbed on him, shuffled down his body and took his cock in her mouth. He was stiff and ready and she sucked him well, raising the tension quickly.

"That's wonderful, Darling," he said, a hand stroking her hair.

He relaxed back and tried not to let the beautiful sensation bring him off. He wanted to last a good time for her.

She cupped his balls and sucked sideways up and down his cock before taking the head into her mouth again, teasing him the way he teased her, with soft gentle sucking and delicate licks.

It was graceful and loving but he couldn't let her pleasure him for too long.

"It's time," he said and she gave a last suck before shuffling back up his body and squatting over him. A wriggle of her bottom and a guide from her hand and she had enveloped him in her pussy with a gasp and a sigh of satisfaction. Now she began to ride him, a slow circular movement with her hips, her body low against his, her tits rubbing on his chest.

As she grew in arousal she sat up more and picked up the pace, swivelling in a figure-of-eight. Ezra caressed her from waist to tits.

Now she was bucking her pelvis, in long strokes that pushed her clit onto his pubic bone.

Ezra took over when she got tired. He held her hips and thrust up at her, rocking her backward.

Rested and close to orgasm, she grabbed his hands to push herself up and then, leaning backward, her hands on his knees for support, they fucked together in rhythm, climbing to a mutual climax.

"Oh, my God! Oh, God! Oh, God!" she cried out.

Her eyes were shut, her back arched. She felt the tightness in her throat as the spasm began. There was a tingling from her strained erect nipples to her toes, which were stretched out, her calves stiff and aching. Then she came.

"Oh, my God!" she cried "... I love you, Ezra!"

Her legs shook and she pulled off him. Her squirt soaked his belly. She fell forward onto him and he held her.

"I love you, too, Darling," he said, his voice hoarse and tense.

She breathed heavily for a few seconds, positioned herself again and rammed his cock back into her. They pumped together quickly and again her thighs shook like elastic bands. Her spasm lasted a minute, hunching her back and draining her strength. Sweat stuck her hair to her cheeks and neck.

More squirt dribbled onto him as she pulled away. Lying on him, she used his warmth and strength as a crutch while her breathing settled.

She enveloped his cock one last time and they fucked to the finish. Ezra groaned. His hands gripped her waist hard, helping her move. His cock felt the strain of imminent ejaculation.

"Lean back more, Darling," he said.

She did so and he got the rub he wanted on the top of his cock. It sent her over the edge again and, as she convulsed, her vaginal walls tightened to massage his cock. It was enough. The throbbing in his cock began and he released, a joyful pulsing and relief from all strain.

He held her tight as she lay on him, recovering, breathing deeply, silent and fulfilled.

It took some time to come down from their peaks but, afterward, when they had rested, Ezra said:

"So, will you tell me what this is all about? I'm not complaining, mind, just curious."

"Sharne really is fine when she says she's fine."

Ezra looked blank for a minute, then he laughed.

"I've got her all wrong? I'm not surprised, I was never good at understanding female psychology."

"Never mind. I'm here to steer you right."

They lay quietly together for a bit, then Annela said:

"Ezra, tell me about the women you've known. We've never talked properly about your relationships, just a few stories here and there."

"True, but we've never really had time. It's a busy life, working, shagging and sleeping."

"Well, tell me now."

"I've not had many relationships, only two longer than a year, when I was young, plus some casual liaisons I'd rather not tell you about."

"Why not?"

"Well, because a prospector's life leaves no time for romantic attachments, even were it possible to meet normal women during brief stops at space-stations or lonely planets. Since I've been earning my living as a prospector, most of my sexual encounters have been short and, er, professional."

After a moment thinking, Annela understood.

"Are there no women prospectors?"

"Very few, though I admit, I did once spend some time with a woman prospector. I'll tell you that story. It was an adventure of a kind."

She got up to pull her clothes back on. Comfortable as a bed of ferns was, there were the occasional sharp points. He dressed as well. They lay back down and he began his story.

"After I left university, I was taken on as an assistant geologist by a prospecting company on Earth. I was learning to be a prospector, picking up skills in piloting and navigation. There's tons to learn, so my first two years were spent on relatively simple missions with experienced crews."

"Then, about fifteen years ago, a newly-opened hyperspace route made it possible to prospect an asteroid belt around a small star near Beta Auriga. It was a race to get to the system first. Galactic mining rights require landing on the asteroid and staking a claim by submitting an accurate survey to the authorities."

"My company had a lot of missions going on and there was a shortage of men, so I was assigned as the geologist to a new team. We were to go to the asteroid belt and stake as many claims as we could while the company rounded up the more-experienced men. The pilot and engineer were rookies, just like me, but the danger ought to have been small."

"However, my crew-mates were not just rookies: they were idiots. They'd gone out drinking and whoring the night before the launch and were too dazed to do their safety checks properly the next day. Sure enough, we suffered a mechanical failure just at the worst time."

"I'd gone down to the asteroid in a space-suit to take surface samples and plant explosives to make small craters and expose the core. When I got back to the ship, there was a malfunction and the air-lock jammed."

"Greg, the engineer, suited up and entered the air-lock from inside, trying to release the mechanism and open the door manually. He said it would take ten minutes. The charges were set to blow in thirty minutes and the ship needed to be a good distance away before then."

"I was wondering if I had time to go back and defuse the explosives, or would Greg get the door open in time? (Actually, I had plenty of time, but when you're on your own in space, under pressure, it's difficult to think clearly.)"

Annela nodded, showing real concern, though she knew the story had a happy ending.

"Just as I'd decided to return to the asteroid and defuse the explosives, I was pushed away from it by the wash from the retro-rockets of a space ship pulling up next to me.. The radio reception was full of crackles but I could make out a commanding voice with a thick Russian accent telling my ship to make its escape and that I would be picked up."

"A door slid open and I steered myself into the air-lock. As soon as I was inside and the outer door shut, I was thrown sideways against the wall as the ship accelerated away. Then the pressurization process began. A few minutes later, the seal on the inner door released a gasp of air and I could unlock my helmet and step out of the suit. I was damp with sweat but happy to breathe ship-air."

Annela was clearly enjoying the story and he tried to put in as many details as he could remember.

"When the inner door opened, I expected to see my rescuers but there was only one: a stocky Russian woman, aged about fifty, with short dark hair, large brown eyes and a nose like an eagle's beak. (Think of your chest of drawers, but with arms, legs, breasts and a head.) She held out her hand."

"'Welcome to Voskhod', she said. 'I am Tatiana. What name?'"

"Her English was heavily accented but understandable, despite the difficulties Russians have with English articles and pronouns."

(Here Ezra broke off to explain that he could not remember the exact words they spoke, so Annela would have to forgive him making them up just to keep the narrative moving.)

"I'm Ezra. Thanks for rescuing me."

"Your ship is faulty?"

"My crew are."

She laughed.

"The air-lock's broken."

"So I hear on radio. Luck for you I prospect same region, no?"

"Yes, lucky indeed."

"Indeed!" she repeated, smiling.

"You geologist too?"

"Yes."

"Then we work together!"

"I work for a prospecting company, Tatiana."

"I am the freelance. We get more surveys done if we work together. Your company and me, we share the claims."

(It made sense but I was far too junior to make any such decision. I needed to call my colleagues and get them to talk to the management. Tatiana pointed me to the communicator and I opened the channel. Greg answered.)

"We've got real problems, man," he said. "I can't open the air-lock. The whole circuit is fritzed and now the handle's bent. We can use the emergency escape hatch but, man, you're better off staying on the Russian ship. We'll wait for the rest of the group to come get us."

"All right. Good luck." (I had no sympathy. They could have stayed on board that last night running all their checks, as I had done.)

"What're the Russians like?"

"Only one Russian. A woman. She's beautiful."

"Fuck, Ezra! You're one lucky son-of-a-bitch!"

"Yes I am. Out."

(Tatiana had been listening. She slapped me on the back, hard.)

"I like you, Ezra. We make good team."

(Her ship was fully provisioned for a geological survey. I had to learn only the Cyrillic words on the instruments. We surveyed a dozen asteroids before the rest of the company flotilla arrived. The senior captain ratified our informal agreement and, when my old ship was fixed, sent the guys home, leaving Tatiana and me to finish our part of the survey on our own.)

(We stayed six months and I learned more about prospecting from Tatiana than from any other single person.)

"And what did she teach you about sex?" Annela asked.

"How do you know we had sex?"

"Because I know you, Ezra. As you told me, you don't pass up the opportunity."

"You're right. We had sex non-stop, except when we worked or were asleep. There was nothing else to do. ... So the first thing I learned was the stamina and appetite of middle-aged Russian women. And, in Tatiana's case, the complete absence of inhibitions."

"That makes sex better, does it?"

"Oh, yes! You can know all the techniques in the world and be an expert in the biology of sex but if you're too shy to ask for what you want, you're going to be frustrated. That was a valuable lesson to learn. The end-result was that we had an amazing connection. We seemed to understand each other's bodies perfectly, though I later realised it was all her doing."

"I'm sure it wasn't her alone," Annela said, thinking that she and Ezra had a pretty good connection themselves, which was surely due more to him than to her. "Anyway, go on with your story. Tell me what else she taught you."

"You know that trick where I make a vacuum on your pussy with my mouth and fingers to get blood to rush into your g-spot?"

"Oh, yes!"

"She taught me that."

"I thank her very much. What else?"

"She taught me about licking pussies. She said to keep trying different things until the woman shows what makes her happy; then keep doing that until she says 'stop' (and really means it)."

"Hmm!" she said, remembering.

"Also, warm the woman up before going for the clitoris by kissing around her pussy and into the gap between her pelvis and thigh."

"Yes, I like that. Tell me more."

"Take time because the longer you make a woman wait for it, the better it is for her. I'm not sure that's always true but Tatiana was one of those hyper-sensitive women who, once you got her to that place, could be kept on the edge of orgasm for hours with a little teasing or even just a finger laid flat and motionless on her clit. Then, when she came, it was volcanic."

Annela had snuggled down, lying on her side to face him. He had his hand under her shirt and gently held a breast.

"Volcanic, you say?"

"Yes."

"Hmm. It sounds to me she was trying to encourage you."

"She certainly was encouraging. A man feels amazing when he makes a woman lose herself in an intense orgasm."

"But didn't you tell me that some men need to feel that they are sexual experts and women sometimes pander to them because such men perform better when their egos are stroked?"

He laughed.

"You think she was only flattering me? She might have been, at first, but by the end I think she was genuine when she called me a 'wonderful lover'."

Annela had called him that herself.

"What else did she say about you?" she asked.

"She saw stars when we fucked."

"So do I."

"Sometimes it was fireworks."

"What are fireworks?"

"Something like exploding stars."

"Ooh! I saw those just now. ... Was there anything else she taught you?"

"Yes, she gave me some general advice about women. It sounded like traditional Russian sayings but I think they were her own ideas. It need not be true of all women."

"What did she say?"

"This is just about sex, you understand. She said: Never say 'please' to a woman. ... A man doesn't ask, he takes. ... In sex, as in dancing, a man leads, a woman follows. ... A woman wants to surrender to a man stronger than her, a man who takes possession. ... Hesitation is a turn-off. So is considering her feelings too much. ... Lots of stuff like that."

"This woman really said that?"

"I know what you mean. Tatiana was the most confident and capable woman I've ever met. One of the most successful prospectors of her day. With the exception of Mirselene, she was possibly the most formidable woman I've ever known. But she believed that a true woman wants to submit sexually to a man."

"She was right," Annela whispered.

"So it seems. And this was a woman who once floored a twenty-stone man with a single punch."

"God! Why did she do that?"

"It was to defend the honour of a prostitute."

"Tell me?"

"It was on Capella Spaceport. After three months, we had run low on provisions, so we went to re-stock, re-fuel and get some gravity (albeit artificial) under our feet."

"You also went to Capella Spaceport on your way here."

"You remember? Well, Tatiana and I went to a pub to relax. It was half-full and the best seats were taken, so we took stools by the bar. Tatiana introduced me to a couple of prospectors she knew but there was also a tough bunch of Russian men in the pub, the crew of a big freighter. They were drinking hard and were a little rowdy. Tatiana was getting irritated by them (they were giving her nation a bad name) but I didn't care much."

"There were also about six or seven 'entertainers' there. It's a euphemism that Tatiana refused to use. She called them 'prostitutes', almost spitting out the word, and turned her back on them. I kept looking, of course."

"Of course," Annela agreed.

"They were glamorous in their make-up and revealing dresses. Probably young (though it's hard to tell with rejuvenation therapy), they were very sexy. They talked to the men, asking if they wanted to be shown around the space-station or to go somewhere more private."

"One of the girls came over to talk to me. She was tall and curvy, aged about twenty, with dark red hair (much darker than yours) and soft green eyes. High cheek bones, a straight nose and a bow-shaped mouth. Very attractive."

"It sounds like you remember her perfectly, though it was fifteen years ago," Annela said with a smile.

"True, but I've seen her since. Her name's Hestia and, thanks to modern surgery, she still looks about twenty."

"All right," Annela said, indulgently, "go on."




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 06



"Well, I told her I was with someone and she turned to go away when one of the freighter-crew, leaning on the bar next to Tatiana, said something in Russian and slapped the girl hard on the bum. She span around, shocked, but the man just laughed."

"Tatiana wasn't pleased and spoke to the man but he just waved her away and went back to his drink. He was a huge grisly bear of a man but she wasn't fazed."

"She tapped him on the shoulder. He slowly put his drink down and turned toward her. Then she punched him, right on the chin, with all her strength. He just slumped down to the floor, like a sandcastle in the rain."

"This had happened so quickly I couldn't do anything but now I had to move. I got ready to carry Tatiana out of the bar because, even if I could fight the bear when he got up (though I knew I couldn't), I certainly couldn't fight all the crew-members. But just as Boris recovered from the shock and made to get up (he was in a killing rage), a huge boot pressed down on his chest and an even bigger man stood over him."

"It was the master of the freighter. If freighter crews were tough, then their masters were even tougher and kept them in line. Boris was made to apologise to Hestia, which he did grudgingly, and then was sent back to the freighter to cool off."

"So what did he say to Hestia and why did Tatiana defend her?"

"It doesn't translate well but I think he said something like 'You're very expensive for a cheap whore. Let me have a feel of the goods.' You see, Hestia had tried soliciting him but when he found he couldn't afford her, he resented it. Despite her disapproval of entertainers, Tatiana disapproved even more of men who do not treat women as ladies."

"Which is something you learned from her?"

"Actually, it's something I've always known, or maybe I learned it from my father, but it was a good lesson to see a woman who certainly doesn't need chivalrous men to protect her none the less demand that men be chivalrous."

They were silent together a while.

"And have you never seen Tatiana again?"

"Oh, yes. Twice; and I introduced my sister to her."

"Danielle, the astrophysicist?"

"That's right."

"Do you think Tatiana was in love with you?"

"Of course not! I think she wanted just what I wanted: companionship and, as it turned out, amazing sex."

"Would you have noticed if she loved you, though? I mean, might she have pretended not to care, so as not to be a burden to you?"

Annela, the loyal hero-worshipper, could not conceive of a woman who knew Ezra and did not love him.

"I never thought of it." He was stumped for a moment. "But, if she could ask me to do ... er ... stuff to her that I've never done with a woman before or since, she'd hardly be reticent about saying she loved me."

"I don't know. What is all right to say between sex-partners might sound different between lovers."

"I suppose so."

He paused to think. The good-hearted girl sounded as though she was sad for Tatiana and this made Ezra wonder if he'd been thoughtless toward his Russian sex-mate. He was silent for some minutes.

"So, tell me what 'stuff' you did to Tatiana," Annela asked, interrupting his pondering.

"Not on your life," he replied, laughing. "Besides, we've talked too much about me. I want to know something from you."

"All right." She pushed him onto his back and climbed on him, resting her chin on her hands, her elbows on his chest. "What do you want to know?"

"What did you tell Sharne about sex with me?"

"Nothing that I didn't tell everyone else. Why, is she doing it wrong?"

"No, she's good. ... Better than you, anyway."

"Ooh!" She dug her elbows sharply into him.

"Ouch! All right, Madam, stop it! I'm sorry. You're the best!"

She left him alone.

"So what's the problem?"

"Not so much a problem as a peculiarity."

He paused to think how to explain without revealing too much private detail. The fact was that Sharne seemed to think she had to have sex with him every time he wanted it and, if she couldn't, as in the last few days, she hinted she would give him a blow-job. Because Ezra had the sense she didn't really want to do it, he didn't ask.

But he knew how important customs were to the Woodlanders. The power of custom kept the small society from disintegrating. He could excuse any of his own peculiarities by saying "It's an Earth custom" and it would be understood and accepted.

"I think Sharne believes it's an Earth custom for women never to refuse sex to their men. I was just wondering if this attitude is something she has decided for herself or if you had a hand in it?"

"I don't know. I only told them what we did together. I suppose they deduced what that implied about customs on Earth. Do men on Earth really allow women to refuse sex? Why would a woman ever refuse sex?"

"Allow? You're joking? As for why a woman might refuse sex: well, she might be tired, have a head-ache or just not be in the mood."

Annela laughed.

"Now you're joking! A head-ache? Sex is the best cure for a head-ache! And she would always be in the mood if she had a good lover. ... I allow them 'tired'."

"Very gracious of you."

"But is it really the custom on Earth for men to accept such paltry and dishonest excuses? What's the real reason for women to refuse sex?"

Ezra was stumped again.

"I suppose that, for some, it is a way of controlling the man. Other women may genuinely not enjoy sex, or the man is not a good lover. Many reasons, I guess. The point is that an Earthwoman need not be entirely compliant in sex or eager to please her man all the time."

"Really? Well, what will you give me not to tell the others they can refuse sex whenever they want?"

"Ha, ha."

"You know, I would never refuse you sex, not without a very good reason."

"I know it, Darling. Nor would I ever refuse you."

"Well, that's obvious!"

"Why is it obvious?"

"Because I'm irresistible!" She spoke triumphantly, sitting up.

"Really?"

"For sure. I could seduce you anytime."

He remembered her failed attempt to seduce him two months ago.

"How would you seduce me?"

"Easy, I'd lean into you, very close, and whisper in your ear: 'Would you like to fuck me?' Then, ten seconds later, there you'd be, stark naked, mouth watering, cock erect - seduced up to the eyeballs!"

"Up to the eyeballs?"

"Yes, the eyeballs!" she affirmed, confidently.

He laughed. "Well, I don't deny the efficacy of your seduction technique, Annela, though I lament your execrable English."

"Execrable! What a lovely word! 'Irresistible Annela's execrable English!' I like it!"

"It's not a compliment."

"Are you sure?"

"Come on, we should go back to the orchard. We can't leave the others to do all the work."

He pushed her off him, stood and then helped her to her feet. She leaned into him and they kissed.

"I could seduce you into staying here with me," she said as he held her. "I could use my execrable English."

"You're incorrigible."

"Even better!" she exclaimed. "Incorrigible Annela's execrable English. Or should it be Execrable Annela's incorrigible English? or maybe Adorable Annela's irresistible English. I am adorable, aren't I Ezra?"

She was in a girlish mood, almost euphoric. She danced around him as they walked slowly back to the orchard.

"You are adorable, to me ... but I have poor taste."

She was going to punish him but decided she preferred to turn pirouettes instead, eventually getting dizzy and falling into him, laughing. She loved that he held her so firmly whenever he caught her.

"How about Incorrigible Annela's adorable English?" she asked, skipping off again.

Annela prattled like this all the way back. He was pleased she was so happy. He hoped Sharne would also be happy.

It was late afternoon when they met up with the woodcutters. The foragers had already gone. Sharne and Dagma were collecting the cut branches to take to the camp. Annela skipped over to Sharne, kissed her cheek and whispered, "Thank you, Darling."

"Did it go well?" Sharne whispered back.

"Oh, yes! I explained to him what's what. He understands. You don't have to worry about pleasing him. .. But, Sharne, I have a question."

"Yes?"

"Does Ezra ever talk to you about me?"

"Not really."

"I don't mean trivial stuff, like my favourite sex position (on top, leaning back, by the way), which you can ask me yourself any time, but something secret or embarrassing, like what I scream when I climax?"

"Of course not."

"I know it. He's discreet. That means you can trust him. So talk to him. Tell him everything that bothers you, and everything you want or need or hope. Don't be shy. And never doubt that he loves you."

Sharne was silent a minute. Annela had read her mind perfectly.

"You're a witch, Annela."

"I know. Shall we go back to the camp? You're due to be disappointed that Pepi doesn't miss you as much as she ought."

"That's enough witchcraft, Miss. Besides, Pepi is doing fine."

"I know, I'm just teasing."

So, after loading Ezra up with a pile of wood so big he couldn't see over it, they trundled back to camp, chatting gaily.

Sharne did speak to Ezra and they reached a state of real communion in the last few days of her month, when her period had passed but there was no hope of her getting pregnant. It didn't matter. They had sex - sweet, loving, indulgent sex - once more, for its own sake and vowed to come together to try again. And so, with a smile on her face, Sharne let Ezra go on to his next bedmate.

***

After a slow trek through the forest, it was three weeks before the intrepid young explorers reached the terminal lake with its swans and geese. The glacier towered over the lake like an ice cathedral. Here they stopped to decide their best route onward.

The longest way was around the lake, through a thigh-deep stream with ice-cold water and across the valley to the west of the volcano. They would be exposed and vulnerable to a posse of horse-riders, though it was unlikely any Herders would be this far from the coastal plain.

The shortest route was straight across the glacier where they were; and the hardest route was to skirt the forest edge for a few miles and then to cross the glacier at a narrow point higher up, which would put them east of the volcano. But it was a steep climb and was probably just as steep on the way down.

They left their backpacks at the forest edge and, taking their water bladders, climbed the rocky escarpment that took them onto the edge of the glacier. It formed a dam a hundred feet above the lake. The ice was streaked with blue and grey from crushed rock and had deep crevices worn down by melt-water rivulets that poured into the lake as small waterfalls, sometimes carrying blocks of ice with them.

There were a few patches of snow in the shadows of over-hanging crevices where the hot sun couldn't touch them and the ice formed finger-like sculptures. Carlin had never seen snow or walked on ice before. She bent down to touch the cold ground. She lifted a handful of snow to her mouth to taste it.

Wildchild found a clear pool and tasted the water. It was sweet. She drank her fill and then charged her water-bladder. The other girls did the same. Now it was time to venture out onto the glacier to survey their route.

It was soon evident that the shortest route would be impossible without climbing equipment. The crevices were too steep and jagged. Bare hands could make no purchase on the sheer ice-walls and who knew how much bigger the crevices would be further out, where the rivulets were proper streams?

Now they had to decide whether they preferred a hard climb for the rest of the day, hoping to be able to cross the glacier higher up tomorrow. Or should they make for the valley floor, which was dry and had neither shelter nor food? While they were discussing, they heard the screech of a large bird-of-prey high above them, wheeling across the glacier. They looked up.

"She's an eagle," Tamar said to Carlin. "We see them in the southern hills, where the Herders pasture the sheep. If we don't watch carefully, sometimes they take lambs."

"I've not seen one before," Carlin said. "I've seen peregrines. They fly above the forest and go after the pigeons. What can she eat here?"

Wildchild had been asking herself that. She didn't think eagles ate other birds, so maybe there were animals for the eagles to hunt - and for her also to hunt. Seeing the eagle helped her make up her mind. She returned to her pack, picked up her bow and pointed up the glacier. The other girls concurred and the three set off on a steep climb over the grey rocks, occasionally dipping into the forest for an easier path with roots to haul themselves up by.

They erected the tent early that evening and slept in the shelter of the forest leaving themselves a short climb up to the glacier. It had taken Carlin a couple of nights to get used to sleeping in a tent, almost exposed to the night rain and on a hard lumpy surface, but she liked it now. It was more companionable than a bed in a hut because the three girls slept together in a sleeping bag with Tamar in the middle (who loved being cuddled on both sides).

The sleeping bag was an innovation that Tamar and Wildchild adopted from their new tribe. Before, they had slept in their clothes, keeping each other warm as best they could on the cold open plain. It was warmer in the forest, though, and they adapted quickly to sleeping naked in a light cotton bag. Even now, at four-thousand feet altitude, where the night-rain fell as large drops of snow, it was plenty warm enough in a tent under the protection of the trees.

Next morning they foraged for breakfast (keeping the dried foods for when there was no more foraging) and then set off to cross the glacier, less than a mile wide at the point, walking on a bed of fresh soft snow. They could appreciate the raw beauty of the clean white glacier, which turned at a right angle higher up and disappeared behind a wall of mountains to their right.

On the far side of the glacier, they stopped for a view of their future route and to look back where they had come. They could see the end of the terminal lake five miles away and a thousand feet below on their left. In front of them was the dirty grey murrain wall and beyond that was the brown volcano, white smoke rising from its peak. Behind was the forest, which crept up as close to the glacier as it could and climbed as far up the hill-side as climate allowed.

In the far distance, beyond the volcano and across the dry valley, there were more white-tipped mountains.

"How do we know the miners live in those mountains over there and not in the mountains here?" Carlin asked, pointing first to the distant hills in front and then to those to their right.

"We don't, for sure," Tamar replied, "it's just what we were told - Go past the volcano to a lush green valley and in the valley there are caves where the miners work."

Wildchild grunted something to remind Tamar:

"That's right. Ezra said what to look for. He said the mountains are all volcanoes. They've grown so high because the younger ones have pushed up the older ones."

Carlin gave a puzzled exclamation.

"I don't know what it means, either. That's what he said. Anyway, the miners would have dug near the younger volcanoes because that's where the precise metals would be."

Wildchild gave a laugh.

"'Precious' metals," Tamar corrected herself.

"So those are the youngest volcanoes?"

"The highest are the youngest, he said."

Carlin stared out into the distance, shielding her eyes from the morning sun.

"I can't see a green valley."

"Nor can I," Tamar agreed. The land between the volcano and the further mountains was flat but it was scorched yellow and brown.

"So the valley might be on the other side of these mountains here," Carlin suggested.

Wildchild signalled to the others, took a handful of gravel and threw it onto the flat icy surface of the glacier. She used the end of her bow to draw a map.

First she made a long shallow crescent with a crude fish in the middle.

"The ocean," Tamar said, unnecessarily.

Then Wildchild drew a three-sided box to the right of the ocean, leaving the far right edge blank. She drew a tree in the middle and, in the gap between the coast and the forest, she drew an animal which was probably a cow but might have been an elephant or a giraffe.

The girls tried not to giggle.

Ignoring them, she filled in more details. There was a mountain range to the south (she didn't bother drawing a sheep) and a large river to the north that flowed east to west. The river started in mountains in the north-east, which is where they were. A large squiggling line represented a much larger range of mountains that curved from the north and down the east side of the forest. The northern range were those they could see beyond the volcano. The eastern range was invisible from within the forest, though the mountain they stood on was one of its foothills. The valley before them cut into the north-east range; but where the mountains started and ended was all left vague.

Lastly, Wildchild made a series of jumping dots with her bow from her 'cow' (which was apparently a horse) up the coastal plain to the north-east mountains and then she pointed at Tamar.

It was clear: Wildchild believed the Herders who snatched Tamar had taken the coastal route to the White Mountains, where they met the miners.

With Carlin satisfied, they set off down the soft gravel slope of the murrain wall, slipping knee-deep into the powdery clay and sliding some of the way on their bottoms. Half-way down there was a rocky ridge that connected the mountain to the right to the lone volcano in front. They scrambled up the ridge and strode on toward the volcano, which they would meet half-way up its side.

As they approached, they could see the lip of the volcano shimmering in the hot air, changing colour in patches from grey-green to yellow and back again. It was a curious phenomenon and the girls were interested to know what was causing it.

They agreed to climb over the volcano rather than go around. They could get an even better view of their route from its peak. They didn't fear the volcano's soft white plume feathering into the sky but climbed the muddy slope, sometimes finding hand-holds in dry pumice slabs.

At the top, the rim was obscured in wispy clouds of what they had taken to be smoke. They could now tell it was steam. They could also smell it: an unpleasant vapour with the stench of bad eggs. They carried on regardless and, from the lip of the crater, at last saw what was causing the steam. The crater had a muddy flat surface in which were many rock-pools, gently bubbling with internal heat. The water was sulphurous, staining the rocks yellow and black.

The floor of the crater was a yellow and grey-green mat, changing its colours like a kaleidoscope. Tamar took a few steps down from the lip into the crater and the floor shimmered leaving a brown semi-circle around her where the bare floor was revealed.

"It's lizards!" she cried out.

The floor of the crater was a mat of thousands of reptiles, large and small, of different shades of grey, green and yellow, plus some brown ones that were hard to see. They had scattered out of her way into the shadow of the lip of the volcano. It explained what they had seen from a distance, when the lizards were sunning themselves on the volcano's rim.

Now another puzzle was solved: these must be the animals that the eagles feed on. Sure enough, they heard the shriek of an eagle in the sky overhead. Wildchild and Carlin thought of trying for one of the larger lizards with their bows but they decided they'd save their arrows for more delectable fare.

From the north side of the volcano they could see their route clearly. Across the dry plain and tucked into a notch in the foothills of the distant mountains, almost at the limit of vision on a hot hazy day, a small green valley was visible.




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 06



"How far?" Carlin asked.

Wildchild shrugged, an eloquent gesture that meant she didn't know but now that they could see their target, it didn't matter. She made a couple of gestures and a grunt, which Carlin understood to concern their water supplies. Carlin grasped a good deal of her friend's minimalist language, though she lacked Tamar's telepathic interpretation skills.

The order Wildchild gave was that they were always to finish their water bladders and not try to save any because it was better to carry the water within them than to die with a supply left in their bags.

Thus instructed, the girls took good swigs of their water-bladders, hefted their packs onto their backs and started the long trek to the distant valley, filled with the hope that they would find the Miners there.

***

For month three, Ezra belonged to Dipti. That was the right way to put it, so possessive was the girl about her bedmate.

On the day that Dipti and Ezra were to be bedmates, Urulla moved her clothes and essential things out of their hut into the hut of her mother, Casti, while Ezra plonked his bag of meagre belongings under the awning of Dipti's hut in preparation to moving in that night. Then he went to work with Sharne and Dagma as usual.

Dipti and Urulla came back to the camp at lunchtime. Every day that week they had returned early from foraging to work in secret on a project of their own. Today they checked their preparations were done and then went to bathe at the pool, taking their time, rinsing and repeating.

Urulla drenched her naked lover, covered her with clay from the bank, spread it conscientiously into every nook and cranny, then dunked her again, carefully washing her all over. Dipti had never felt so clean.

They dried themselves in the sun as the others came down to the pool to bathe. Ezra was one of the last. The girls had already left when he arrived.

He had mixed feelings. He felt regret at leaving Sharne when she had not yet conceived. He felt a strong longing for Annela, made worse because she was so understanding and patient. No sane person could be that good-hearted, he felt. And now he was going to be bedmate to Dipti, a woman he barely knew. A woman who already had a lover. A lover, moreover, who was as keen for Dipti to be bedmates with Ezra as Dipti was herself. Woodlander customs seemed just so odd and unsettling.

A good wash in the pool with three stark naked women, while other naked women stood on the bank, drying in the sun, put it in perspective for him, however, reminding him that Earth customs do not entirely belong on Samothea. If Annela, Sharne and Urulla were happy for him to move on to Dipti, then there was no reason he could not look forward to it himself.

Back in their hut, with an hour to go to the feast, Urulla prepared Dipti for her first night with Ezra.

The secret project the girls had been working on was to crush flowers and fruits to make perfume, which Urulla flicked from a bowl into Dipti's hair and applied with her finger to her neck, shoulders, underarms and breasts. The girls had also boiled down fruit-juice to make a kind of sweet shiny syrup, which Urulla painted onto Dipti's lips, fingernails and toes - plus other more intimate parts of her body for Ezra to discover later.

The feast was almost ready. Food was cooking and dusk had fallen. Everyone was either cooking or seated, waiting to begin. Parvinder entered the hut. Dipti was still naked and Parvinder could see the feast that awaited Ezra that night. She took her daughter's hands and kissed her forehead, a blessing and a wish for good luck.

"You look beautiful, Darling," she said.

"Thank you, Mummy," Dipti replied, in a sweet shy voice.

Urulla had spread the dress out on the bed. It was a white cotton chemise without arms. It tied up around the chest. Saying "Lift your arms," Parvinder and Urulla pulled the dress over the girl and dropped it down, tying it up just above her proud round breasts.

Parvinder lifted the dress a little further up her chest and closed the gap in front to hide her cleavage while Urulla tied a pale blue sash around the girl's waist.

Urulla then set a garland of flowers on Dipti's head and tied a single bracelet of coloured stones around her left wrist. When she had strewn petals on the bed and on the floor between the door and the bed, Urulla's preparations were complete. She gave Dipti a sign and left the hut. Parvinder took a last look at her daughter and then went to her place at the feast, leaving Dipti in the hut, waiting her cue.

The feast was under way and Ezra could not remember a merrier evening. Even the feast after the swan hunt had been more subdued because the hunters had been tired.

The chief cause of all the gaiety was Urulla, who was taking a platter around the cooks to collect portions of food, jollying everyone up by her enthusiasm and the look of excitement on her face. She gaily side-stepped all questions about what she and Dipti had been preparing, saying "Just you wait" and "Be patient, all will be revealed" but her sense of fun rubbed off on everyone and fed a general air of expectation.

Slipping back into the hut with a platter of food, Urulla kept up the suspense by not returning. Evidently, she and Dipti would eat their meal in private. This was a mystery in itself and the Woodlanders finished their platters quickly in the hope it would shorten the wait.

Ezra was as much caught up in the anticipation as everyone else, taking a peek every so often at the entrance to Dipti's hut in case she should appear. He finished his platter and Pepi climbed onto his lap to be tickled, which was their ritual whenever he ate with Sharne.

"Hello, Lump," he said. "How horribly bad have you been today?"

"Very bad!" she said and earned herself a tickle on her stomach.

"Very, very bad!" she exclaimed and earned another two tickles.

"Very, very, very, very, very ..." she squealed in delight as he tickled her continuously.

"How many verys?" he asked, holding the laughing child to prevent her falling off his lap.

"Ten!"

"Ten?" He began to tickle her again. She collapsed in laughter and squirmed in his lap, kicking her legs.

"I think you're much worse than ten very bads."

"A thousand bad!" she shouted.

"I'll run out of tickles."

"A million bad!" She laughed even harder.

"A million? No one that bad should get tickles. You should get a million spanks."

He turned her on her front and smacked her rump. This was even funnier. It sent her into hysterics. He spanked her once more before tickling her sides again. Her eyes streamed. She gulped huge breaths of air between fits of crying laughter.

Soon, however, her laughter was the only human noise in the camp. Night had fallen and all was black beyond the huts, which glowed orange in the light of the camp fire. This was Urulla's cue. She pushed aside the curtain door of the hut and stood in the entrance, a cloth bag around her waist. She waited for everyone to notice her and, whoever did, went silent, waiting for the show to begin.

Hush swiftly fell upon the camp, except for Ezra and Pepi, enjoying their game.

Sharne tapped Ezra on the shoulder and he woke up to what was happening. Clasping Pepi to his chest, he tried to calm the crazy girl but she couldn't stop laughing.

"I believe this is yours," Ezra said, handing the squirming child over to her mother.

"Thanks for winding her up for me, Ezra," she said, but her voice was more indulgent than critical. She took her daughter from him, saying "Shush, Sweetie. Look, Dipti's about to appear."

Urulla stepped to one side and threw a handful of petals from her bag onto the ground at the door of the hut. The half-light of the fire made a chiaroscuro effect as Dipti stepped from the shadow and her white dress was picked out in orange flame.

"Oh, my!" exclaimed Casti. Lenta clapped her hands together and the other women sat and gazed.

Urulla threw another handful of petals and Dipti took another step forward.

The garland of white petals in her hair looked like it had caught fire. The waterfall of black hair over her shoulders shimmered orange, yellow and red as the flickers rebounded.

More petals and another step.

Now the girl was visible herself, radiant and shining. Her brown skin reflecting deep orange on her forehead, nose, sparkling black eyes, cheeks, shoulders and - fascinating to Ezra - her breasts. Urulla had pulled her dress down a couple of inches and widened the v-shape to reveal a generous cleavage that disappeared into purple shadow.

It was one more step to the bench, which Urulla strewed with her last handful of petals. Dipti sat down and there was silence.

"Wonderful!" Mirselene explained in her booming voice. "You look beautiful, child."

"Thank you, Madam."

"Well done as well, Urulla. That was a charming show. ... Now you all know the ritual. Let's all wish Dipti and Ezra a fruitful month together. ... Ezra, if you please?"

He took his place next to Dipti and the two shared a look of lust-filled anticipation. Ezra saw such a depth of longing in the girl's eyes that he wanted to be alone with his voluptuous new bedmate as soon as possible.

The women crowded around them both, wanting to smell Dipti's hair and look at the paint on her lips and nails. Eventually Urulla took charge and shooed them away, saying it was time the couple were left alone.

This recalled Mirselene to her leaderly responsibilities, though she had been as guilty as any in wanting to look Dipti over at close-quarters.

"Ladies, bring out your drums. Let's have some dancing while there is still time."

There was maybe half-an-hour before the night-rain. Drums were quickly brought out for Sharne and Erin to play. Annela, Urulla and Casti were the first to dance - after Pepi, of course, who had a special dispensation to stay up when there was music.

Five minutes into the dancing and Dipti signalled to Ezra it was time they should go. He needed no persuasion. At the threshold of her hut, he stopped her, turned her around and lifted her into his arms.

She gave a squeal of delight and held on tight. He carried her up onto the platform and, careful not to bang her head on the door post, through the curtain into the hut.

Urulla, who saw this, smiled with satisfaction.

Inside, still holding her in his arms, he bent his head and kissed her. She responded passionately, popping her tongue out to caress his. He tasted the cherry balm that was painted on her lips.

They kissed for some minutes, tongues intertwined. It was a deeply satisfying kiss, a sign that there were to be no barriers between them, that he would give her everything she desired - and take everything he desired from her.

He placed her carefully on the bed and lay on her, holding her by the waist as they kissed. When he began to fondle her breasts, however, Dipti decided it was time to take off her dress. Clothes were precious on Samothea. She had better take care of it before it got damaged in the throws of passion.

"Help me undress, please?" she asked.

He helped her stand and she took off the sash. They undid the draw-string together. She wriggled out of her dress and picked it up. Faint light from the campfire infiltrated the hut through the curtain and picked out delicious highlights on the curvy girl as she folded her dress and bent over to store it carefully.

Dipti had round tits high on her chest, a smooth belly, wide hips and strong legs that tapered to thin ankles that looked too weak to support her. She was also the hairiest girl Ezra had yet met on Samothea, the delicious bush of her pubic hair was a black triangle that seemed to suck in the light between the ghostly reflections on her hips and thighs.

Dipti disappeared completely into shadow when she climbed onto the bed on her hands and knees.

Ezra began to undress. As he did so, he felt her hands on his back and shoulders, feeling their way in the dark.

"Let me help," she said. She knelt on the bed behind him and undid the buttons of his shirt, putting her hands underneath to touch his fascinating chest-hair. He pulled off his shirt and she put her arms around him to feel his ribs and stomach muscles. Her breasts with hard nipples pressed against his back and she kissed the top of his shoulder.

He turned around and guided her hands to his belt. He helped her undo it and unbutton the fly, pulling his trousers down. He stepped out of them and was naked facing her, his cock growing hard.

He bent down to kiss her again. She put her hands on his hips but she hesitated to go further. He broke the kiss to say,

"Go on, Dipti, you can touch my cock."

She felt along his belly to his curly pubic hair and put her hand on his cock. She felt it up and down with her finger-tips, then put her hand around the head.

Ezra wondered what she was going to do next, and didn't mind if it was nothing. He wanted tonight to be about her; but tonight was really about surprises and Dipti had many of those in store for him.

She felt down his shaft to his balls and touched them gently with her finger-tips. Clearly, while Sharne and Urulla had asked Annela all the questions, Dipti had been listening and learning.

She leant down and kissed the top of his cock. This was a surprise. An even bigger surprise followed when she put her mouth around the head and popped her tongue out to caress the shaft with little bird-like licks.

"Oh, God! Darling, how did you know to do that?"

Her answer was muffled for the moment but when she came up for air, she asked:

"Am I doing it right?"

"Almost perfectly," he assured her. Annela must have told her not to use her teeth.

She sucked him until he was fully hard (which did not take long, truth be told) and then he got her to lie back on the bed again. He wanted to explore her and he guessed she and Urulla had prepared more than just scented hair and cherry-flavoured lips.

She lay back and invited him onto the bed. They kissed until the cherry taste had completely gone. This was his cue to kiss down her neck in search of more treats.

In the dark, he couldn't see which parts of her body had been painted with fruit lotion but he noticed a change in her scent as he kissed down to her shoulders. There were spots of berry flavour on her collar bones - redcurrant, if he had to guess.

He licked a mouthful and kissed her to share the taste.

He kissed and licked slowly from her shoulders toward her tits. In the scrumptious valley between the inviting globes, he found a taste of banana. It wasn't his favourite flavour but it was close to his favourite place, so he licked the spot clean and gave her a taste.

Now he had to control himself, to savour the moment and take his time. He kissed up one mound to its peak and took the nipple into his mouth. It was surely apple - and he was just as sure that the other tit would be pear.

He was pleased the syrup had been applied thickly to the nipple and around her large aureole, requiring lots of licking and sharing with her. Just for fun, he continued sucking the apple-flavoured tit long after all the ointment was gone. He then sucked the other nipple clean. It was pear.

Dipti's medium-size tits were very suckable and Ezra had admired them for a while. He even dreamed of them a couple of times, so he spent a long time kissing and licking the nipples, putting the flavour-trail on hold. She loved this attention and made loud gladsome moans in response when he ran his tongue in circles around a nipple.

Encouraged by her sensual notes, which got gradually louder and more urgent as he increased the intensity, he massaged her tits firmly, squeezing and gently nibbling a nipple with his teeth. He swapped sides frequently and sucked harder, pulling her nipples into his mouth. She arched her back, feeling an ecstatic buzz begin in her tits. She moaned even louder and breathed deeply.

He worked alternately on her tits, gripping one nipple hard while gently licking the other or sucking hard on as much tit as he could get in his mouth while softly massaging the other. She squealed and squealed. The muscles of her chest and stomach tightened and she felt an electric charge in her breasts. The suction and squeezing sent her over the edge and she had a nipple orgasm. The spasm rocked her body and soaked her pussy.

She screamed her joy and went silent.

Dipti loved nipple orgasms and fell into a deep relaxation, the peace spreading to her legs and arms. She murmured contentedly, "Mmmm!, that's lovely, Ezra," as he gently stroked her ribs and belly.

He kissed a tit, avoiding the sensitive nipple but she pushed her chest up at him again and held his head against her chest, clearly wanting even more. As he sucked on a tit, he ran his hand down her belly to explore her pubic hair and cup her pussy. He was about to spread her nether lips to feel her wetness when she pulled her wits together and said,

"Not yet, please. ... Taste me?"

This was a request no gentleman should ever refuse, so Ezra began to kiss his way down her belly. He found fruity ointment there too. Urulla had painted syrup along the line between Dipti's stomach muscles, from the valley between her breasts to her pubic hair. Ezra took the taste of plum to Dipti's lips and then bramble.

Now he was at her pussy, he could smell its sweetness and another scent, not so sweet but very feminine. He kissed her inner thighs just to tease her and make her wait. She spread her legs and breathed deeply in anticipation.

The noise of drums and high-spirited dancing had stopped outside and it had gone quiet. In moments, the patter of rain would begin and a cold wind would rattle the eaves.

In the hut, however, it was hot, and soon would get hotter.

Ezra planted his mouth on Dipti's pussy and tasted her outer lips. It was blackcurrant, one of his favourite tastes. He licked the juice off her labia and shared the flavour with her. Then he went down on her again and cleaned off all the syrup until all he could taste was the woman herself.

She got used to his licking quite quickly, though his tongue was rougher than a woman's and he was not as gentle with her as Urulla. Her arousal rose to a plateau of sensitivity and pleasure, where she moaned loud and often, bucking slowly and squeezing her own nipples.

Fifteen minutes later, she had peaked many times. Her juices ran down his beard and he decided it was time to fuck her.

The rain was now so heavy it bounded off the hut-roof, suppressing Dipti's loudest yelps and cries. For once, he was glad of the rain. Dipti was so vocal from having her tits sucked and her pussy licked, he wondered what she would sound like when she had his cock in her.

She moaned when he removed his mouth from her pussy. Her disappointment turned to greedy anticipation when he lay on her. He kissed her and then asked, "Are you ready?"

"Mmm! Mmm!"

"Darling, is that 'yes' or 'no'?"

"Mmm! Mmm!"

"Can't you speak?" He was amused.

"Mmm!"

"Is it one grunt for 'no' two for 'yes'?"

"Mmm! Mmm!"

"All right."

All this time, he had been positioning himself so the head of his cock was resting against her sodden vulva.

"Are you ready, Darling?" he asked again.

"Mmmmmmmm! Mmmmmmmm!" she almost shouted it, though her mouth was closed.

To the rhythm of the rain thudding against the roof and falling in sheets to the ground, Ezra began to fuck her.

If he thought she was noisy during their foreplay, it was nothing compared to her noise now. Dipti was a screamer. From the moment he penetrated her vagina to the moment she had her final shaking orgasm, she wailed like a police-siren, her pitch rising and falling on every thrust but never dying away.

Ezra pumped away between her legs, turned on by her amazing response. Her noise drove him to go harder. He gripped a tit in his right hand. She liked that as well and wailed her approval.




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 06



She was submerged in a world of sensual pleasure, where everything he did added to her joy. His weight on her, his tongue in her mouth when they kissed, his hand on her tit, the deep fullness of her vagina and the erotic rub on her clitoris; they were all working her up to a new kind of sensual crisis.

She brought her knees up and felt the rub from his cock at a different angle, marking the new feeling with screams of a different pitch.

He'd not heard anything like it before. The heavy rain drowned her out at first but now it was letting off and she was shrieking like a banshee. The noise reverberated around the hut.

Ezra put two fingers in her mouth and she obediently sucked them. She couldn't wail quite so loudly now but he felt her moans as a vibration in her throat.

It was a turn-on for him: he wasn't just suppressing her noise; but he couldn't always be stuffing her mouth with things. This was one of the things he thought about to try to keep himself from cumming before she did. It wasn't working well but, luckily, she was close to satisfaction.

She raised her legs even higher and stopped sucking on his fingers so that she could scream louder. Her mouth was wide open, her eyes tight shut and she climaxed, her legs shaking, her pelvis thrusting up at him.

He kept pumping into her and she quickly climaxed again.

Now he pushed himself up, spread his knees, held her bottom off the mattress, got the angle he wanted and thrust in again. Her back was arched off the bed, her legs resting on his chest. She supported herself with her shoulders and elbows. His thrusts caught the top of her vagina with long hard strokes and really gave her something to moan about.

Another joyful spasm approached. She arched even more, rising onto her hands, using the top of her head a fulcrum. Then she shrieked and released, a shock-wave of pleasure spreading outward from her pussy. Her legs shook again and her vaginal walls bore down on his cock in swift contractions.

He could go a little more. He gripped her hard and plunged in a few more times, feeling her convulsions on his cock, goaded on by her tireless ecstatic moans. Another thrust and another and it was his time. A sharp joy at the end of his cock and the throbbing pleasure in the shaft and his spunk shot into her cleft in joyful surges.

He lay on her when he had done and they hugged tightly, coming down from their peaks and finding a serene moment to share.

It was a peculiar thing for them both, fucking someone they knew as a friend or fellow tribe-member but was not in love with (not yet, anyway). Moments of sexual intimacy reveal so much about a person: it seemed to reverse the natural order of things for him to know what Dipti sounded like when she fucked but not what food she liked or what she thought about living in the forest.

These random thoughts occupied Ezra's mind as he rolled off his new bedmate and cuddled her to him. Dipti's thoughts were simpler: "So that's what sex is like with a man," she said to herself. "What a shame we have only a month together!"

No one said anything at breakfast that morning about how demonstrative Dipti had been in bed last night but this made Ezra even more acutely aware that they must have heard and were deliberately not saying anything, which was worse. The Woodlanders were usually so open about everything, no matter how intimate. He imagined how discomforting it must have been to Annela next door, so he said to Dipti:

"I have an idea. I'm going to ask Mirselene if we can escape our chores today and go off together for a walk. Is that all right?"

"Is it all right to spend all day with my new bedmate? Hmmm! Let me think?"

"All right, all right. I'll ask."

Mirselene gave permission with an understanding smile. Ezra took a backpack with some food and, holding Dipti's hand, led her off into the forest, following the river half-a-mile upstream to a place where there was another natural pool. Here the river was wide and deep, with a flat grassy patch of ground by the bank and a stand of trees nearby, including a large oak.

"I've been thinking of building a permanent structure against the tree here, to use as a Honeymoon Lodge. What do you think?" he asked.

"I think it's perfect, Darling!" she exclaimed happily, clapping her hands together. "What's a honeymoon?"

They spent the afternoon wandering further into the forest, finding secluded spots to kiss and make love or just talk. Dipti knew why Ezra wanted a hut away from the camp but she didn't complain. In fact, she was in favour. She would really like to let herself go and not be so restrained as she was last night.

Next day, they started work on the Honeymoon Lodge. His first construction would be a temporary shelter, half-hut and half-tent, using the tarpaulin from the roof of one of the huts which Sharne, Dagma and he had repaired. He built a wooden frame up against the oak tree and began to build a platform and steps while Dipti wove saplings together as wind-breaks to line the walls. Under the protection of the tree, the roof and walls didn't need to be substantial.

Urulla turned up half-way through the morning with food. The three of them worked together all afternoon, then Dipti whispered something to Urulla and the girl nodded. Saying goodbye, Urulla gave Dipti a full and passionate kiss, with tongues and a heavy kind of fondling that was almost groping. With her fingers under Dipti's shirt, she squeezed Dipti's left tit; and when she broke the kiss to leave, she kept hold of the nipple until she was an arm's length away, then let it go with a final squeeze and skipped off into the forest. Ezra looked on with a smile, obviously aroused. He pulled Dipti to him, pushed up her shirt and put his mouth on the tit that Urulla tweaked, as if to confirm his possession.

This demonstration naturally led to fucking, with Dipti on top, riding him as he sucked her tits as hard as he could.

Afterward, as she lay on him breathing deeply, Ezra for the first time thought properly about Urulla as Dipti's lover. That first night, Urulla had been just as enthusiastic on Dipti's behalf as Dipti herself. Now it seemed that Dipti had sent her girlfriend away because she wanted to fuck her temporary bedmate; and the girl had agreed, clearly without jealousy, even acting to turn Ezra on.

He wondered if Dipti and Urulla would still make love during this month. And, though he was not a sex-maniac, he was a man in a situation that all sex-maniacs dream about, he wondered if Urulla planned to join Dipti and him at any time. What would he say? More important, what would Mirselene say?

He got no further than this thought because Dipti had something to ask.

"Darling?"

"Yes?"

"Are we spending the night here?"

"We can if you want, the shelter is strong enough, but it won't be very comfortable without a proper bed and mattress."

"That's all right. I've sent Urulla to get our bedding and you and I can get the bed and mattress - or maybe just the mattress will do."

He laughed and was satisfied that his new bedmate was not so submissive that she couldn't make decisions for both of them.

"Yes, the mattress will do for now. I hope Sharne and Dagma will come and help tomorrow and we can knock up a new bed in a couple of days."

The first night together in the temporary hut would not have been considered a success by anyone other than a couple whose lust for each other made all external circumstances irrelevant. They stayed too long at the feast and had to make their way in the dark, tripping on tree roots and stubbing their toes on the rough plank floor of the new hut. A bird had got into the hut during the feast and scared the daylights out of them, squawking and flapping in terror when they entered the hut. Insects crawled into the bed with them and the night rain brought acorns down noisily onto the flimsy tarpaulin-covered roof.

On the good side of things, Ezra fucked her hard and she screamed to her heart's content, disturbing none but the stupid birds with her ecstatic wails.

The next night would be better.

After breakfast next morning, Ezra and Dipti brought a party of workers back to the Honeymoon Lodge. Sharne and Dagma carried their tools and a supply of cut wood. The bank down to the stream was steep and awkward to climb back out when wet, so they built a ladder for the pool and began to reinforce the walls and roof.

Dipti and Urulla stripped thin branches of their leafs and wove them together to make a door for the hut and shutters for the windows. Erin and Annela turned up with food and drink for the workers. They were interested to see the progress.

That night, Ezra and Dipti left the feast in good time and had a much more comfortable night, half of it sleeping, half fucking.

A simple Honeymoon Lodge was finished in a week. It was a medium-sized hut set on a large wooden platform lying on a frame of untrimmed logs and attached to the tree-trunk, which it half surrounded. There were steps up to the platform and a veranda with a roof over the whole complex. The roof was planked across and proofed against both water and acorns.

Ezra still needed to make stronger walls from interlaced logs, which would make another room and double the size of the lodge, but there was a sturdy bed and a solid four-legged table with bamboo chairs. There was a simple bench on the veranda and an innovation of Ezra's which he kept as a surprise for Dipti the next morning.

It was a swing he had made with vines for rope and a flexible wide bamboo seat. He got up early to tie it to the frame on the veranda and when he returned to the bed, he woke her with gentle kisses and fondling. For all her sex-drive, Dipti was not as keen on morning sex as Ezra. Nor, for that matter, was Sharne. Only Annela seemed up for it at every moment Ezra was himself.

But a slow and gentle start, with compliments on her beauty and sexiness (Dipti thought she was a mess in the mornings) and he soon got her panting and wet between her thighs. He led her outside to the misty morning and showed her the swing. He helped her onto the seat and began to swing her. There was pleasure for her in the simple motion, even more so from pressure on her bottom and pussy as she squeezed her legs together.

Things grew hotter from there and pretty soon she was sitting back on the seat, her legs apart, her ankles tucked behind the ropes. He knelt down and was (by design) the right height to bend down and lick her pussy. He got her even more worked up, giving her clitoris a good seeing to, then stood and pulled her to him, stuffing her with a good hard cock.

She loved fucking in this position and her own noisy chirruping competed with the avian dawn chorus but Ezra wanted to try another position. He got her to lie on her side, with one leg out sideways and the other pointing up the rope, then he penetrated her. There was pleasure in this position for her, with the unusual feeling of his cock sideways in her pussy, but she got uncomfortable after a while with the weight on her ribs.

He read her rightly and tried another position, lying on her front, her legs around his hips, helping him swing her, while he stuffed her from behind.

She liked it very much and got almost to her climax in that position; but the first position had been the best and that was what she wanted, even if she didn't have the verbal power to say so. Again, Ezra read her well. They changed position for the last time and fucked on the veranda, swinging steadily faster as Dipti screamed and came and made splashing noises in her pussy with a convulsive squirt. Then Ezra came, pumping his juice deep into her snatch.

The swing was counted a success and they used it often.

Two weeks into their month together was the monthly trade with the Mariners. Here a young cow was bought. It had come from the Herders and they paid a premium for it, but it was worth the money.

The variety of cows cloned on Samothea were genetically modified to give milk without being mated. The calf would produce milk in another six months and Pepi was allowed the honour of naming her, so long as she didn't name it after any of the Woodlanders. It was a shame that Pepi had to re-think her choice because everyone thought the calf would have liked to have been called 'Ezra'. Eventually she chose to call her 'Jemima', which was the name of the cow in her farm-animals reading book.

Having named the cow, Pepi was also given the duty of looking after it. On the principle of, if you want a child to be responsible, give him something to be responsible for, it was time Pepi had something to look after. Two of the matrons, Parvinder and Casti, would help at first, and Pepi's grandmother, Lenta, would always have some wise advice. In fact, Pepi was happy to be in charge of the cow and took her duties seriously, which surprised everyone, especially her mother.

There was also possible good news because Ezra's month with Dipti ended very well when she missed her period. They fucked to the very last day of their month together.

***

The fourth month of Ezra's duty ought to have been Dagma's but, to her mother's consternation and the whole camp's disbelief, Dagma refused to be Ezra's bedmate. It was only when Mirselene gave orders to prepare the Honeymoon Lodge for the couple that Dagma spoke up and said she didn't want to be Ezra's bedmate.

Ezra was the only one not surprised. He believed Dagma disliked him. There was a commotion in the camp, however, and a bitter row all morning between Mirselene and her daughter. They argued in Mirselene's hut but the final few exchanges were audible to everyone when Dagma stormed out, slamming the door.

Mirselene opened it and shouted after her:

"Why did you wait until today to make this ridiculous decision? Just to humiliate me?"

Dagma stopped and turned.

"I've tried telling you, many times, but you never listen. You hear only what you want to hear!"

"I'm listening now. Why don't you explain?"

"I'm done explaining. You refuse to understand."

"Oh, God! Darling. Of course I understand!"

"Then why are you badgering me to do something I don't want to do?"

"Darling, I'm not badgering you but your decision makes no sense."

Fuming, Dagma turned around and stormed off again.

"Where are you going?"

"Away!"

At one of the storage huts, Dagma grabbed a bag, hefted it on her shoulders and stomped off into the forest.

She spent the night in the forest and did not return until the next day, when she arrived back for breakfast and silently went to work with Sharne. Her mother sensibly said nothing and everyone tried to ignore the argument boiling beneath the surface.

Mirselene left her daughter in peace for a whole week, hoping she would come to her senses. She also decreed that no other woman was available to Ezra.

Though he resented the authoritarian form of her ruling, Ezra did not object to having a few days' break from non-stop sex. As a prospector, he was used to going months, even a year or more, without sex, so a week of abstinence was no great hardship, even though he had gone from sexual feast to sexual famine so abruptly.

After ten days without sex, however, and Dagma still adamant that she wanted neither sex with Ezra nor children, he was beginning to feel the itch.

It seemed daft not to let him be with Annela, who was in a horny stage of her pregnancy, or with Sharne, who was yet to conceive, not to mention Urulla, who was impatiently waiting her turn, or Dipti, who frequently gave him lustful looks, even when Urulla was present. If Ezra would have ignored Mirselene's arbitrary ruling, however, none of these women were inclined to disobey their chief at a time of personal stress to her.

As always, Ezra discussed the situation with Annela, whose advice was always thoughtful.

"I wish I can understand Mirselene's mind better," he said. "Her manner to me seems altered. I suspect she blames me a little for Dagma's refusal to be my bedmate."

"Why would she do that?"

"I don't know. Perhaps because she's so proud and cannot believe her daughter, her own clone, would disobey her."

Annela had a sudden flash-back to the time when her chief first told her the agreement she wanted from Ezra, when she said none of the Woodlanders would be so unnatural as to refuse to be his bedmate.

"I'm was pretty sure I've not shown any dislike of Dagma," Ezra continued, "though I know she dislikes me."

"I don't think she does, you know," Annela assured him. He nodded. He knew (but never believed) Annela's explanation that Dagma was shy and reticent.

He sat and pondered, thinking how to say the obvious, that perhaps Dagma was ashamed of her looks.

True, on the surface, Dagma was less attractive than most of the other Woodlander woman, but if she had her mother's passion, then there was no reason she couldn't be as sexy as any of them. As an average-looking man himself, Ezra knew that confidence and enthusiasm were as sexy as a perfect figure. Besides, he also knew that what men say secretly about sex with fat girls was completely true.

He settled for repeating how mystifying the whole thing was and regretting that Mirselene was so strict on the no-sex rule in their case.

Annela only smiled. She had tried talking to Mirselene, asking that Ezra be allowed a bedmate, but Mirselene misunderstood her gentle plea, thinking that she was asking for her own sake. On the other hand, she fully understood Mirselene's reason, which was that this month belonged to Dagma and if he went off with someone else, she could use it as an excuse to keep refusing. Besides, the girl might change her mind at any time, and Ezra should be free in that case.

It was hard to steer a moderate course between Ezra's sex-starvation, which was beginning to make him cranky and impatient, and Mirselene's authoritarian intransigence. Some bad feeling and tension was bound to fester in the camp.

Mirselene felt it herself, despite her thick skin and blind spots. She made a show of taking advice and gathered the matrons to invited their opinions. It was only the matrons, who understood Mirselene's impatience for reassurance. She would politely listen to advice, even if she rarely took it, but what she craved was information.

Lenta, Parvinder, Casti and Erin sat in Mirselene's hut and listened to their chief rant for five minutes about her disobedient and unnatural daughter. Then she calmed down and looked ashamed.

"She's not a bad girl," she said, "she just doesn't know what she wants. Ladies, when you were young, would you have refused sex with a man?"

Parvinder spoke for them all when she said "Certainly not."

"It can't be that she has no sex-drive," Mirselene continued. "She's my clone. She has my instincts, my urges. She must feel the same painful longing, the same frustration about sex and motherhood. How can she not want the only man on the planet? How can she not want a child, a child to propagate herself and increase her tribe?"

The conclave had no answer. Sharne, consulted the next day, as Dagma's closest friend, had no information either, only bafflement. Annela, the most understanding woman in the tribe, seemed as much concerned about Ezra's sex-starvation as with Dagma's dereliction of duty as a tribe-member and as a woman.

To make matters worse, Ezra decided now was a good time to discuss his plan to salvage his ship with Mirselene.

He had begun puzzling over the matter to keep his mind off his sexual frustrations. He knew he would need the help of the Mariners and probably Wildchild and Tamar to guide him to where the ship sank; but they weren't prepared to risk capture by the Herders, so maybe he could find the place himself. It was a shallow sea and his ship was no more than one-hundred feet from the shore, he thought. The problem was the alliance with the Mariners.




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 07



Disaster for the Woodlanders came from a fight during the monthly trade-meeting with the Mariners.

On the day before the monthly trade, Mirselene renewed her attempt to persuade her daughter, Dagma, to be Ezra's bedmate. She had been refusing for more than two weeks and, by her mother's calculation, she should now be ovulating. Mirselene began with kind words, appealing to her daughter's loyalty to the tribe, but was unsuccessful again and, losing her temper, drove her defiant daughter away.

Dagma spent the night in the forest and returned the next morning before her mother woke. She hitched up her basket of goods and waited for the trading party on the route to the trading-place. Unfortunately, she took her anger and resentment with her.

The Woodlander party made good time and by mid-morning had concluded the normal preliminaries of sharing food and gossip. The pre-ordered goods had been exchanged and bargaining for additional items was advancing peaceably when Dagma got into a dispute about the price of a wooden tool.

The argument turned into angry pushing when Dagma grabbed back the haft and appeared to threaten the Mariner woman with it. She was a tall strong woman called Kalyndra. The women grappled together and Kalyndra grabbed hold of a stone knife from a nearby basket. Urulla moved in to try to separate the brawling women but there was confusion. Arms flailed and curses were shouted. Then a cry was heard. The women backed off and there was Urulla, lying on her back, with a bloody wound in her chest.

Kalyndra was still holding the knife. She screamed, threw it down and ran away. Someone shouted "She's dead!" and the other Mariners ran after Kalyndra, leaving their baskets of goods behind.

The Woodlanders thought Urulla was dead. Dagma was closest to the ailing girl but she was in shock, unable to move. Casti acted first and knelt by her daughter, staunching the blood with her hand. Blood bubbled out of the corner of Urulla's mouth and the girl went pale and silent.

"Get help!" Casti shouted. "Dagma! Don't just stand there, run for help!"

Dagma woke from her daze and, taking off her cloak, ran into the forest toward the Woodlander camp. A weeping Dipti knelt beside Casti and they took turns to put pressure on the wound and staunch the blood flow. The other women stood around uselessly.

The Mariner settlement was closest and it was only an hour or so before Belena, chief of the Mariners and a dozen of her tribeswomen arrived. They brought water, bandages and assorted medicines. Their nurse, Calliope, accompanied by her teenage daughter, went to offer what help she could. Other Mariners carried a large tent roof on poles that they set up over the injured woman to shield her and her nurses from the sun.

Belena herself sat on a chair under another tent and set her women to put the baskets of goods back in order and sort out who owned what while they waited for Mirselene to turn up, as she surely would.

Dagma arrived back in the Woodlander camp, exhausted and sweating, barely able to talk. Tears in her eyes, she gasped out the story to the disbelieving tribe. It was clearly too great a disaster for Mirselene to apportion blame. What mattered now was saving Urulla's life. Her orders were swift and concise:

"Parvinder, pack your medicines. Annela, help her. Dagma, you need some water. Ezra, can you make a stretcher?"

Then she retired to her hut to think through her strategy. Soon Parvinder was ready with a bag of medicines. Annela was ready as well. Ezra and Dagma had folded the strong tarpaulin sheet and tied it to two long poles.

Mirselene emerged from her hut, prepared to lead the rescue party.

"Annela, Ezra, you can't come."

"Madam, I can help Parvinder," Annela protested at the same time that Ezra asked "Why on Earth not?"

Mirselene replied:

"Annela, you are clearly pregnant. Ezra, do I really need to explain? No time to argue. Stay and make up Parvinder's hut to receive Urulla. Help Lenta make us some dinner because we'll be famished when we return. Dagma, can you make the journey twice in a day?"

"Yes, mother," she said in a meek voice.

"Good. Let's go."

Mirselene led Parvinder and Dagma out of the camp, carrying the stretcher, water bladders and the medicine bag.

Even with a light load and not stopping, it was more than a two-hour walk to the meeting-place. They found the Mariners waiting for them. Calliope and her daughter were helping nurse Urulla. The other Mariners sat or stood around their chief under her tent. There was an empty seat next to Belena.

Parvinder went to look at Urulla while Mirselene took her place on the vacant chair.

"Sister," she said, "this is an awful business."

"Indeed, Sister," Belena said, "we are very grieved and sorry."

"Who is the culprit?"

"This is Kalyndra." Belena motioned forward a contrite woman.

"What have you to say for yourself, girl?" Mirselene demanded.

"I am to blame, Madam. I am very sorry. Please forgive me? Please tell me Urulla will live?"

"It is not my place to forgive you, girl, but your remorse does you credit. Our nurse will tell us how Urulla is."

"To be fair to Kalyndra," Belena added, "it was half-and-half who was to blame for starting the fight."

"So my daughter has admitted; yet your woman was entirely to blame for using a weapon. This is utterly forbidden, as you know."

"Yes, I know. We are prepared to make restitution, if you agree."

"I agree but first I will learn if it's safe to bring Urulla back to camp today."

Parvinder was summoned and, when she was satisfied she could safely leave her patient, she attended on the chiefs.

"Urulla is unconscious but stable," Parvinder reported. "She's breathing freely now and the wound has stopped bleeding; but she's lost a lot of blood and I don't know if the journey home will re-open her wound. I'm going to strap her up now. We tried to give her water but she coughed it up."

"My settlement is nearer," Belena offered. "We have an excellent nurse in Calliope and we will give Parvinder lodging, of course."

"Your offer is kind, Sister, but I think Urulla would be happier in her own tribe and under the care of our two nurses."

"As you wish, Sister, my offer remains open, should you change your mind."

"What do you say, Parvinder?"

"If you want us to take her home, Mirselene, then so long as we go slowly and are prepared to stop if she's in danger, I think it's safe."

With that, Parvinder returned to her patient. The bustle around the tent indicated they were removing her shirt and binding her wound with bandages. This done, Urulla was left to rest, watched over by Parvinder, while Casti and Dipti went to rinse the blood off their hands and Calliope and her daughter returned to their tribe.

There was silence between the two chiefs for a few minutes. The Mariner women handed out small baskets of dried fish and cups of water and, though no one was hungry, the Woodlanders knew they had a long journey home and tried to eat. Even so, neither Casti, Dipti nor Dagma ate even a mouthful.

"Sister," Belena began, "your baskets of goods are over there. How will you take them as well as your girl?"

"We'll manage."

"If you say so. I am prepared to give you two women as compensation until Urulla is healed. They can help bear the stretcher."

It was customary on Samothea to provide compensation for an injured tribeswoman in the form either of Cloner Tokens, trade goods or workers. One worker would replace the injured woman until she is healed and the other would either nurse her or work in place of her nurse. The Woodlanders were the best at medicine and did not need a nurse.

Mirselene pondered the offer. She had a difficult decision to make.

The problem was that any Mariner in the camp would soon learn the existence of Ezra and would surely transmit that knowledge to her tribe when she returned. The Mariners had to learn some time, of course, especially if Ezra was ever going to salvage his ship, but Mirselene wanted to choose the time for that herself. But it would be suspicious for her to reject the offer of workers. Belena did not know that Ezra did the work of two younger women (and ate the food of three). She thought the Woodlanders were too small a tribe to lose the labour of two women.

"Belena, I accept the offer of two women."

"Very good. Kalyndra! Step forward."

The girl did so.

"You will go with the Woodlanders to work in place of Urulla until she recovers."

Kalyndra silently nodded but Mirselene was angry. Belena was up to her tricks, putting a sting in the tail of the just compensation.

"Kalyndra is Urulla's assailant!" she protested.

"Yes, and Dagma was the principal cause of the fight," Belena retorted.

"Besides, the girl has apologised and asked forgiveness. She is a strong worker and therefore generous reparations."

Mirselene swallowed hard. She knew she would be forced to accept Kalyndra if she wanted compensation at all. She was bound to relent but not without protest. She calmed herself down.

"Kalyndra is acceptable to us only if we shackle her wrists and ankles. She'll also be gagged at night."

"Do as you wish to her. Just leave no permanent marks or injuries."

Still Kalyndra had not spoken.

"And whom will you give us to replace our nurse?"

Before Belena answered, Calliope, who was standing behind Belena's chair, pushed her daughter forward. Mirselene saw the movement and the naked plea on Calliope's face.

"I will work in compensation for your nurse," the girl said.

"No!" Belena objected. "Not you, Thalassa! Calliope, she is not appropriate."

Mirselene was careful not to let Belena see her glance again at the girl's mother. She saw the same imploring look and made up her mind.

"I do not know if she's appropriate or not, Belena, but she's seems very scrawny."

"That's right, Mirselene, someone older and stronger would be better ..."

"I am stronger than I look, Madam," Thalassa said. "And I am learning nursing from my mother."

"Nursing, you say?" Mirselene asked. "How good is she at nursing, Calliope?"

"She is learning well and takes orders," Thalassa's mother said. "She is competent."

"Merely competent? I'm not sure we need another nurse. We have two."

Belena now asserted herself again. "Come back, Thalassa. The Woodlanders don't want you."

"On the other hand," Mirselene said, pretending to think it over, "most of the nursing will just be sitting with Urulla while she recovers. My women have far better things to do and an older woman would be bored but Thalassa might be suited to the task. She looks about Urulla's age. How old are you, girl?"

"I'm seventeen, Madam."

"Then you'll suit us well. Belena, I'm happy with your compensation. Say goodbye to your mother, Thalassa. And you, Kalyndra, make your preparations. We'll leave straight away."

Belena was finessed. She could say nothing without revealing to Mirselene why she wanted the girl to stay or why Calliope showed such profound relief, an emotion she hid from Belena as she tearfully kissed her daughter goodbye.

Four women carried Urulla on the stretcher, alternating when they got tired, treading as carefully as they could to avoid jolting the patient too often. Stopping every so often, it was a slow journey back to the camp.

Carried delicately into the camp in the early evening, Urulla was taken straight to Parvinder's hut so her nurses could wash and dress her wound and make her comfortable. She still hadn't woken but Parvinder was not worried, thinking that while she was unconscious, she was mending.

Kalyndra and Thalassa were left to stand next to the dais in front of Mirselene's hut, awaiting their orders. With perfect timing, Ezra appeared from one of the storage huts on the other side of the camp fire and made his way to Parvinder's hut, to ask after Urulla. The Mariner women saw him through the smoky flames but he was clearly a man. They stared, unable to speak. On all the journey back to camp, no one had thought to mention the man in the Woodlander camp.

"That is Ezra," Mirselene said, appearing behind them. "You will meet him later. Meanwhile, Thalassa is to wash and begin her nursing duties and Kalyndra is to go with Sharne and Dagma, who will find you a bed and prepare you for work. Off you go."

The Mariner women obeyed in a sort of daze.

Erin took charge of Thalassa and Sharne thought it best that she, rather than Dagma, showed Kalyndra where she would sleep. The women didn't go straight to work, of course, but were shown around the camp, including the new crapper, and given fresh water to drink.

At the feast that night, there were two topics of conversation: fear for Urulla's health from the Woodlanders and the amazement of the newcomers on learning there was a man on Samothea (indeed, it turned out, a fertile man).

Thalassa shared with Erin and Annela but, true to Mirselene's orders, Kalyndra was tied to the bed-post in the spare hut and gagged. She made no objection and the bonds were not very tight.

Next day, while Thalassa helped to nurse Urulla. Kalyndra was put to work carrying logs and poles back to camp. Her hobbles were removed but her wrists were kept tied. She was plenty strong enough for the task and even enjoyed the hard physical labour. It was not clear what she thought about working with Ezra.

Kalyndra had stared open-mouthed when she first saw him and was still fascinated by his unwomanly shape, his beard, his hairy chest and hairy arms. When she had a spare moment, she shyly observed him, modestly lowering her eyes when he caught her glances. Even if she'd had the courage to talk to him, her task kept her busy all day.

As for Ezra, the first thing he noticed was what a beautiful woman Kalyndra was.

Aged twenty-six, she was as tall as him, with long wild black hair, black eyes, a broad nose with finely sculpted nostrils, a wide mouth, good teeth and a feminine jaw. Her naturally olive skin was deeply tanned. Her neck was long and her breasts were magnificent: large and shaped to be sucked. Despite her height, she was all curves, from elegant shoulders to a thin waist and flat tummy over generous hips. Her buttocks were firm and her long, long legs were graced with powerful thighs.

She was a Mediterranean goddess, designed to give a corpse an erection, but Ezra tried to ignore her, which was odd considering it was three weeks since he'd had sex and his loins were feeling the strain of inactivity.

All day, Kalyndra worked hard, conscientiously and in silence. Strong and resourceful, she showed no disobedience and meekly accepted the rope-restraints as her punishment.

On the second day, Kalyndra felt a little bolder and tried to get Ezra to talk but he gave only curt replies to her ventures. He would say "Yes," "No," "Hello," and "Goodbye." The most he ever said to her was "Here are some more logs."

The next day, Kalyndra tried to tease Ezra in overtly sexual ways. She normally wore a leather jacket and skirt. The jacket covered only her shoulders and breasts. Today she took it off when she started work and left it on a tree in the forest.

Now when Ezra worked nearby, her delectable tits were exposed to his keen admiration. She turned toward him and pushed out her chest. He gazed at a drop of sweat trickling over the plateau of a tanned breast into the luscious valley between. He focussed on her large brown nipples, which grew erect when she saw him staring. She asked for some water, took a mouthful and poured the rest of the bladder over her head and tits. Licking her lips, she ran her hands sensuously through her long wavy black hair.

Sharne and Dagma arrived to witness the end of this display and were unhappy. Asked why she had left her jacket on a tree, she said that the Mariners always worked naked and, besides, her restrictive clothing made her task of carrying logs harder than it need be. No one took this explanation at face-value but there was a simple solution: After lunch, Kalyndra was given one of Urulla's smocks to wear.

It was a simple garment with a round neck and short wide sleeves. It came down to the knees on Urulla, who was one of the tallest Woodlanders. On Kalyndra, it came to the middle of her thighs. When she tied her rope hobbles around her thin waist as a belt, it was more like a cocktail dress.

She swayed her hips when Ezra could see her. Hitching the dress even higher, she wiggled her bottom at him when she bent over to pick up logs. Once she leaned her forearms on a tree and pushed out her buttocks, emphasising her voluptuous beauty. Smiling to himself, he turned his back, struggling to hide his powerful erection. He couldn't help wondering where she learned her repertoire of sexual teases, greater than any Woodlander woman had yet displayed.

Those who saw Kalyndra's posturing in front of Ezra did not seem to appreciate how hot she made him feel. Even the wise Annela, who had an almost telepathic understanding of him, was too preoccupied with her nursing duties to notice. In fact, all the Woodlander women seemed preoccupied at the moment.

Casti and Dipti spent hours at Urulla's bedside, holding her hand, waiting for her to wake up. Parvinder and Annela looked in on the girl every hour and checked her wound, her breathing (which was shallow but not alarming) and her pulse (steady but not strong).

Thalassa was happy to do all the mundane chores: washing bandages, sweeping the floor and fetching water; plus she was learning the Woodlander way of healing, making ointments and preparing drugs from mushrooms and herbs. She was delighted to make friends with all the Woodlanders but Annela was her favourite because she let the sweet Mariner girl feel her pregnant belly or press her ear to her bump, trying to hear the baby's heart-beat. Thalassa was equally delighted to learn that Dipti was also pregnant, having missed another period.

When Urulla opened her eyes on the morning of the third day, there was relief around the camp. She managed to smile and was given water one spoonful at a time. In the afternoon, her nurses raised her head and shoulders to feed her some restorative broth.

When Urulla tried to speak, however, she coughed painfully. None the less, Mirselene was pleased enough by the news to decree that her attendants had neglected their work for too long. She sent Dipti, Annela and Thalassa out foraging for the rest of the day and invited Casti to visit her chickens and help Pepi and Lenta with the calf, Jemima, leaving Parvinder in sole charge of the patient.

Deep in the forest, while the three woodcutters were splitting a large fallen tree-trunk into planks, Kalyndra held the spare wedges and waited patiently for her next orders. Ezra took surreptitious looks at her whenever he rested. She was just as gorgeous as before but today it seemed she wanted to goad and rile him rather than tease and excite him. As she passed him the next set of wedges to hammer into the trunk, she said:

"If you're really a man, why do you hide your manhood?"

This was a reference to Ezra's trousers. He generally went topless when he was working but he was never entirely naked.

When he didn't answer, she said:

"I'm as tall as you. What sort of a man is no bigger than a woman?"

Whatever its purpose, this tactic brought no response from him and only contempt from Sharne and Dagma, who quickly finished the plank they were splitting and took her to work elsewhere for the rest of the afternoon.

Today's provocations from Kalyndra - so different from yesterday's sexual teases - puzzled Ezra but he had no time to think about them. He was preoccupied with a larger problem. Mirselene was acting very oddly to him. She seemed determined to start a fight. She spoke to him only in abrupt commanding tones, demanding menial tasks and never thanking him. He let it pass, as his share in her disappointment with Dagma.




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 07



She seemed to blame him as much as her daughter. She became even more bitter when Dagma's period began and the girl missed her chance at getting pregnant this month. It wasn't Ezra's fault but there he was in the camp, showing sexual interest in the slutty Mariner woman, while confining Dagma to virginal loneliness.

Next morning, as the woodcutters and Kalyndra were setting up for work, Dagma had loaded Kalyndra with tools when the rope hobbles and gag she wore as a belt fell down. Ezra was nearby. To save her putting down her load, he picked up the ropes and tied them back around her waist. It was a courteous gesture without any sexual meaning but Mirselene had seen it.

"Ezra Goldrick!" she barked. "Come here right now!"

It was an order, not a request. Everyone heard it and looked up. Rather than cause a scene, Ezra swallowed his pride and attended her.

"Go inside: we need to talk!"

Sharne and Dagma waited to see if Ezra would be joining them straight away but it seemed that the interview would be a lengthy one, so they took Kalyndra to work with them in the forest.

Inside, Mirselene confronted Ezra.

"You are not to touch that woman."

"Do you mean Kalyndra?"

"Of course I mean Kalyndra. You're not to touch her. She's off-limits to you."

"Off-limits?"

"I'm serious, Ezra. I've seen the way you look at her and the way she looks at you. I can read the signs and I don't want you having sex with her. It's still Dagma's month and soon it will be Urulla's month. I won't let you insult them by bedding someone else."

He just stared, not trusting himself to reply.

"Besides, if you and she are bedmates, you'll talk. You'll mention your ship and your plan to salvage it. We've had this discussion. I don't want it known about until I have made a trustworthy treaty with the Mariners. Do you understand?"

"Of course, I understand."

"I don't want you mentioning your ship to anyone again, Ezra."

"Good God!" he exclaimed.

"Women talk, Ezra. The story will get around. I want your weapons kept secret."

"And when will you make this treaty?"

"When I'm ready to trust Belena, which is not yet by a long way."

"This is absurd. I'm sure they'd make a treaty when I've explained how beneficial my tools can be."

"Now I am even more persuaded that you can't be relied on. Your pride prevents you taking my advice seriously. It makes you over-confident. You think that, just because you're a man, the Mariner women will simply obey you?"

"How can you say that, Mirselene? I have never thought any such thing."

"Kalyndra's wanton display has inflated your ego and made you arrogant."

"Arrogant?

"I have given my orders and I will not listen to you questioning them any more. If you want to live among us, Ezra Goldrick, then I forbid you from having sex with Kalyndra and from discussing your ship with another person, including Annela!"

Ezra was furious at being given such orders and in such a manner. He opened his mouth to answer but Mirselene held up an imperious hand to still him and declared: "I have spoken!"

Then she turned her back on him.

With fury in his heart, Ezra swallowed the obscene response he was about to make and stamped out, punching the doorpost as he went, which broke from its socket.

He strode off into the forest, walking far enough away that he could no longer hear the noises of the camp. There was no one about. He leant against a tree and tried to figure out why Mirselene was provoking him so much.

Then he heard footsteps. He turned and saw Kalyndra. After depositing an armful of logs at the camp, she had seen him storm out of Mirselene's hut. She followed him into the forest.

He waited to hear what she wanted but she just stared boldly at him. Her look teased him just as much as her wanton posturing and silly insults.

"What are you staring at?" he asked, nastily.

"Whatever I want."

"Well, stop staring."

She stayed still, defying his orders, holding his gaze, her chin raised.

"This is not a good time for you to provoke me."

"What's wrong, Ezra?" she asked, mockingly. "I saw how Mirselene treated you. Don't you like it?"

"I warn you, get on with your work!"

"Poor little man! Having to take orders from a woman!"

That did it. As far as he could tell, it was Kalyndra's "wanton display" (as Mirselene called it) that had set the chief off, taking it out on him.

He grabbed the rope that tied Kalyndra's wrists together and pulled it roughly to lead her further into the forest. She followed silently. Half-a-mile on, he stopped by a fallen tree. He bent her forward over the trunk and tied her arms to a gnarly stump. Then he pulled off the rope belt she wore around her waist and used it to tie her ankles apart, spreading her legs wide.

He pulled her smock over her head and down her outstretched arms. He yanked her head up brutally by her hair, fed her the robe gag and tied it tightly around the back of her head. Now Kalyndra was secure and vulnerable. She waited silently, panting a little, sweat glistening on her back, but in all this time she hadn't tried to scream for help nor offered Ezra a moment's resistance.

He broke a switch from a nearby tree and began to whack her bottom with it. She was still silent, though the sharp pain made her grunt. After twenty strokes, she was emitting muffled yelps. The sweat ran in rivulets down her back. Another twenty strokes and she was really feeling it. She struggled hard not to cry out. Her bottom was hot and throbbing. He started whacking her thighs. She stiffened in protest.

Ezra's cock was hard and straining but his only thought had been to punish her - until he saw the dampness glistening on her slit. Creamy droplets moistened her pubic hair. She was aroused and bucking her pelvis into the tree-trunk.

He stopped whipping, loosened his trousers, slipped out his cock and stuffed it straight into her pussy. She was wet enough for him to slip all the way in. There was no obstruction.

Ezra fucked her hard. Her moans were muffled but she didn't cry out, not even when he gripped her luscious breasts fiercely. He pounded relentlessly into her, occasionally slapping her firm buttocks, whose crimson welts from the whipping were still hot and angry. She rested her forehead on the cool bark of the trunk and bit down on her gag but made no protest.

Settling into a faster rhythm, he took her erect nipples in a pincer grip. She shuddered against the log, bucking and moaning.

Now her head was up and she groaned in earnest but he didn't care whether it was from pain in her tits or the pleasure in her pussy. The liquid pressure in his loins rose. He was building to his orgasm. He slowed his thrusting, making it last.

She breathed out heavily when he released her nipples but made no more sound, though rough bark dug into her tits and belly with every thrust. The wet slap of his thighs against her sore buttocks was the loudest sound in the forest.

His orgasm was almost upon him. Another thrust and another. He grabbed a handful of hair and yanked her head back to bite her hard on the corner of her neck. Now she screamed. It was her moment. He felt her vagina walls compress in spasm. Seconds later, he made the final thrust that took him over the edge, spurting his load into her soft inviting cleft while she shook in her bonds. A few more thrusts and the throbbing was over. Ezra was spent.

He pulled out and left her tied up. Her juices, her sweat and his semen dripped down her thighs while he sat on the tree-trunk to catch his breath. He planned to rest a while then turn her around for a second go but he didn't get the chance.

A party of Woodlanders arrived. Kalyndra had been missed and Mirselene sent out a search party which scoured the forest in concentric sweeps. The women seemed shocked at what Ezra had done. They untied Kalyndra, helped her into her dress and led her back to the camp. They also demanded Ezra come back to the camp. Though none was strong enough to force him to follow, he obeyed silently. Kalyndra also remained silent the whole way back.

A trial was quickly convened with Lenta, Mirselene and Casti as the quorum of judges. They sat on the dais while the rest of the tribe sat on the benches below (all except Pepi, who was sent to look after Jemima, and Urulla, who was in her hut, attended by Thalassa). Ezra and Kalyndra sat at opposite ends of the front bench.

Accused of rape and asked how he pleaded, Ezra quietly said "Guilty ... and ashamed." No witnesses were required and the judges were set to consider their judgment when Annela stood and was granted permission to speak.

"We all know Kalyndra goaded Ezra," she said. "What we didn't know was how a man would react to such provocations."

"What of it, Annela?" Casti asked.

"I think her actions are mitigating circumstances and make a good case for clemency. We do not punish so severely when there has been provocation."

There were many nods and a few words of agreement around the tribe. The judges conferred in whispers and then Mirselene spoke:

"We reject Annela's argument for clemency. Our duty as judges is to protect all the Woodlanders from a predatory man, who might turn on any of them. Any woman's behaviour might be considered provocative and therefore excuse sexual violence."

Annela again stood up to speak.

"Will the discussion of Ezra's punishment be made in public?"

"Why do you ask this?" Again it was Casti who responded.

"Because sending Ezra away or punishing him in a way that would alienate him from the tribe would harm us all."

The judges also rejected this request. Mirselene said:

"Left to open discussion, the matter would never be resolved. The law is clear: judges alone decide the sentence."

Annela sat down, racking her brains for something to say that could clear Ezra or prevent his exile.

As the judges conferred, the women in the audience also debated the case. Their whispered deliberations gradually rose in pitch and volume. On the dais, Casti seemed animated, pointing first at Kalyndra, then at Ezra. Mirselene shook her head and Lenta put her hand gently on Casti's shoulder with a sad smile.

The discussion seemed over and Mirselene rose to demand silence but before she could make her announcement, Kalyndra stood up and requested to speak. Mirselene answered her:

"Of course you may speak, Kalyndra, but let me warn you. This court will no more listen to a plea for stringency than it did to Annela's plea for leniency. You may proceed."

"I do not ask for stringency. I do not ask for punishment at all because there has been no crime. There can be rape only if there was no consent but I gave my consent."

There was a commotion in the tribe, the hubbub drowning out the last words of her testimony. Kalyndra waited for silence, which Mirselene commanded with an authoritative hand.

"Ezra did to me only what I wanted. I wanted him to tie me up and use me. I regret only that he treated me too gently and that he was interrupted before he recovered enough to use me a second time."

Again Mirselene held up her hand to quell the noise of the audience. If she also intended to interrupt Kalyndra's remarks, she failed because the girl carried on, saying:

"Chief Ezra can do anything he wants to me, at any time, and I will thank him for it. If you exile him as a punishment, then I will follow him. He can whip me again, tie me up and use me any way he likes, but I will always follow him."

There was such uproar now that Mirselene rose to her feet to gain control of the court. She spread her arms and there was silence at last.

"This is an irregular statement and cannot count as evidence," she pronounced, her voice stern and strongly disapproving.

"Ladies," she said, addressing the judges, "I suggest we treat Kalyndra as a hostile witness. I believe she is trying to sow discord among the Woodlanders."

"I am not sowing discord!" Kalyndra exclaimed. "You never asked for my evidence; so I am giving it now. There was no crime: Ezra is no rapist!"

"If Ezra did not rape Kalyndra," Mirselene addressed the judges, "then why did he plead guilty?"

Annela stood up to reply.

"Ezra can change his plea, Madam, now you see that Kalyndra is not accusing him."

There were nods and murmurs of agreement from the tribe. It seemed only fair to say there was no crime if there was no victim; and Kalyndra denied being the victim.

Mirselene sat down to confer with the other judges.

"Kalyndra is trying to divide us. Her testimony is suspect," she said.

"But there were no witnesses to the actual crime (if there was one)," Casti replied. "Without a witness or accuser, the trial is null and void."

As Lenta supported Casti, Mirselene had to relent. She would not give up one point, however, that Kalyndra was a danger to the tribe. The judges agreed this needed to be resolved.

There was silent expectation as Mirselene turned to address the witness.

"Kalyndra, if you are not a provocateur, why do you call the accused 'chief'? He is not a chief."

"Ezra is the natural chief here," Kalyndra replied, looking around at the tribeswomen. "You all know this. Most of you treat him as your chief already; but only I will say it. A man should command and women should obey!"

"That is enough!" Mirselene said. "You have proved that your presence here is a danger to our harmony and security."

Kalyndra crossed her arms and held her chin up in defiance. Casti whispered to Mirselene, who nodded silently, continuing:

"However, the court recognises the point of law brought up by Annela. If there is no accuser and no witness, then the charge of rape must be dropped. So I ask Ezra, do you want to change your plea?"

Ezra knew that to change his plea would embarrass Mirselene and lower her status in the tribe. Also, he disapproved of what Kalyndra said, though he recognised that many of the Woodlanders did treat him with exaggerated deference; but he did not want to command.

He considered carefully and said:

"If there was no crime, then I cannot be guilty; yet I am guilty of disobeying chief Mirselene" (he emphasised the word 'chief'), so I accept whatever punishment the judges decide is appropriate for me."

Mirselene was pleased both by his words and that Annela made no further plea. The judges considered the verdict and sentence one more time.

"Ezra Goldrick," Mirselene intoned, "you are sentenced to a week's exile from the camp. You may stay at the Honeymoon Lodge."

"As for you, Kalyndra. You are not on trial but you have acted and spoken foolishly. You will be tied and hobbled at all times. You will be watched closely and prevented from ever goading Ezra sexually again, until the time comes to return you to your tribe."

Ezra's exile began immediately. He packed up his small bag and made to leave for the lodge but was called back by Casti.

"You'll need provisions," she said and signalled Erin and Annela to go to the storage hut. Sharne and Dagma joined them, so they all carried baskets to the lodge, except Annela, who carried a smouldering taper from the stove. At the lodge, Erin had to practically drag Annela away but eventually they left Ezra alone to start his punishment.

The day after Ezra went into exile, when she had eaten her dinner, Kalyndra allowed herself to be tied to her bed, as usual. She made no protest but tonight she waited until it was almost dark and easily undid her bonds. She loosed a plank at the rear of the hut and slipped out of the camp, carrying her ropes.

She crept silently into the darkening forest and took the narrow track to the lodge. When she arrived, Ezra was dozing on the bed, lying on his back, his arms by his side. One of Mirselene's books, which had mysteriously been included in a basket of provisions, was open on his chest and dangerously close to falling on the floor. The light from a clay oil lamp burned on a wooden stand near the bed, casting sinister shadows into the corners of the room.

Kalyndra crept in silently and stood beside his bed. She lent over him, holding the ropes in her hands. There was a noise and Ezra woke, startled. There was just enough light for him to take in the scene. He had heard Kalyndra falling to her knees beside the bed. There she was, in the position of a supplicant, offering up her ropes to him with outstretched arms.

Ezra took the proffered ropes and gently stroked Kalyndra's wild hair out of her face so he could lift her chin.

"You are here to prove your courtroom declaration was sincere?"

"I am here to serve you, Ezra."

"Are you sure this is what you want?" Ezra asked.

"Yes, my chief," Kalyndra assured him. "Do whatever you want with me."

"So be it," he said and gave her his first order: "Take your clothes off!"

She began to pull off her smock.

"Slowly," he ordered.

She pulled the dress up inch by inch, gradually exposing her hairy bush, flat stomach, rib-cage and luscious breasts. She pulled the dress over her head and laid it down.

"Turn around!"

She did so. He inspected her body in the flickering light.

"Kalyndra, you are amazingly beautiful. I've never seen anyone quite so perfect."

"Thank you, chief Ezra."

"But Mirselene was right. I am not the chief here. I don't mind if you call me chief when we are alone together, but I won't have you call me chief in front of the others. Do you understand?"

"Yes, my chief."

"This is going to be the rule for us. You will be tied up every time we have sex. Do you want that?"

"Oh, God! Yes!" she thought but aloud she said, "I want whatever brings you pleasure, my chief."

"Very well. ... Lie on the bed, on your front."

She did so. He pulled her arms behind her and tied her left wrist to her right ankle and her right wrist to her left ankle. Then he turned her over. Naked, her tied arms trapped underneath, her knees raised, she was well restrained and vulnerable.

He spread her knees and lay on her to press his mouth against hers, sealing her submission with their first kiss. Kalyndra's response was electric. She opened her mouth and popped her tongue out, caressing his, inviting him in. When he pressed his tongue into her mouth, she sucked on it wantonly.

He eased his mouth from hers and kissed his way down her neck, loving the taste of her skin and the smell of her hair. He took his first mouthful of a succulent tit, glorying in the firm roundness of her flesh, her hot skin, her generous areole and hard erect nipples.

She arched when he sucked the nipple. She squirmed against the ropes binding her, frustrated that she couldn't hold him or wrap her legs around him. He sucked at her other tit and pushed his hand through her soft pubic hair to cup her mound and feel her moist slit. He could smell her arousal.

He kissed down her belly to her pussy and tasted it greedily. Lapping at her clitoris, he pushed a forefinger into her damp cavity to find the sensitive spots. The bindings made Kalyndra's nerves tingle. She sucked in her breath sharply and then closed her eyes to give in completely to the sensation of being tied up and used.

"Oh, God!" she exclaimed as he used his finger on her faster, twirling his tongue around her erotic nub and sucking it into his mouth. She was already close to a release.

"Oh, God! Ezra, please, I'm almost there, please!"

She almost screamed; at which point he stopped, leaving her high and dry, her hot soaked pussy aching for his touch, her giant nipples hard as bullets.

Letting her relax a little, he started again, licking up a storm on her clitoris then prodding a finger into her slit. Again, he got her close to the edge and then stopped. She moaned loud, frustrated, wanting to hold his face to her pussy or bring herself off with a vigorous finger.

Ezra smiled at her beautiful anguish. He squeezed a nipple and pulled it out hard. She writhed in exquisite torture, the voluptuous pain sending a charge to her clitoris and causing an extra flood in her vagina. He pulled the nipple out even further and sucked hard on the other tit. She breathed deeply, bucking her pelvis.




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 07



He let go of her nipple and massaged the tit. Then he lay on her and they kissed again. She was eager, responsive, but needed more. She could feel his hot hard cock against her belly and squirmed again, trying to entice it into her slit but he held off, making her wait, making her want it even more.

She shook her head in mixed pleasure and frustration and found her voice again.

"Please? I need to cum. I can't take any more. Please, Ezra?"

"Well, if you ask like that," he said. He put his left hand flat on her stomach and, with his right hand, drilled two fingers into her soaking hole, the finger-tips turned up to catch the g-spot. He wanked her hard and fast. She came instantly, the sweet spasm rocking her body, shaking her thighs. He felt her stomach muscles bunching under his hand.

He vibrated her again and she had a second moaning convulsion. A third orgasm made her cry out, and the fourth caused her to protest for real, suffering a painful over-stimulation. She sighed with satisfaction when the beautiful torment ceased and he let her rest a little.

Still in her bindings, he pulled her up to a kneeling position. She waited expectantly for his orders, the joy of anticipation building her lustful tension again.

"Open your mouth," he commanded.

She did so and he pushed in his hard cock.

"Now suck my cock but don't use your teeth."

Kalyndra obeyed and, for a woman who had never given a man a blow-job, was surprisingly expert. She used her tongue teasingly, running it around the tip and along the shaft. She bobbed her head to get more of the cock into her mouth and give him some friction. She hummed in her throat and glanced up at him with submissive black eyes.

Ezra was building nicely to his climax but he didn't want to cum in her mouth this time. He pulled out and pushed her onto her back.

Bondage suited Kalyndra more than any women he knew. She loved being tied and defenceless to him. She lay waiting breathlessly, her colour heightened, her nipples erect, yearning to be fucked hard. Her pussy dripped with lubricious expectation.

It was time. He lay on her, grabbed her tits and launched, penetrating her up to the hilt. She sighed and moaned, struggling in her restraints to push her pelvis up and engulf his cock with every thrust.

He rammed her hard the first few times, then he settled into a rhythm, making long strokes and sometimes pulling out completely before thrusting back in.

That was the movement she liked best. Her high-pitched loud moans were encouragement enough. He thrust and withdrew, thrust and withdrew, while she shut her eyes, moaned and eventually came, shaking and jolting, wetting the bed.

A few more thrusts and it was his time as well. He sank his cock deep into her and fixed her mouth with a kiss as he pulsed out his semen in long satisfying surges.

Afterward, he untied her and they dozed an hour in each other's arms, by which time Ezra was ready to go again.

"Kalyndra," he said, "the sweet way you suffer under restraint and yet always beg for more is the greatest turn on there is. Do you like being tied up?"

"Yes, my chief."

"And punished?"

"Yes, my chief."

"Good. I'm going to fuck your arse. I warn you, it may hurt. Do you have anything to say?"

"I am yours to use as you will, chief Ezra."

"Very well."

He ordered her onto her back and tied her left forearm to her left shin and the same on the other side. Beautiful as Kalyndra was, she was even more beautiful as a trussed up sex-slave.

He kissed her. When he was ready, he pulled her onto her front so her face was pressed down into the bed and her arse wantonly raised and exposed.

There was a wooden flask of nut oil in the storage box. He poured some oil onto his fingers and smeared it around her anus, dipping a finger into her tightly sensitive hole. Kalyndra emitted something between a gasp and a moan. He poured more oil and worked his finger in and out. She moaned even more. Now he pushed two oiled fingers into her bottom, twisting them around and fucking her with them.

Loud though her moans were, she also seemed to be enjoying it.

With two fingers nicely accommodated, he poured oil over his rigid cock and smeared it around.

"Are you ready?" he asked, positioning the tip of his cock against her small hole, now less tightly puckered than twenty minutes ago.

"I'm yours, my chief," she grunted out.

He pushed his hard cock into her arse and fucked her slowly. She groaned. Her muscles bunched and she squeezed him tightly.

"Relax, darling," he said. "Just relax."

She did so and he thrust in and out, gradually building up speed, as she moaned louder and breathed in gasps. He thrust ever faster and harder into the hogtied woman, urged on by her sweet moans and palpable arousal.

Pulling out and flipping her onto her back, he saw how erect her nipples were. She glowed with sweat. The lips of her pussy flared to reveal glistening pink satin cushions, a hole open between them.

"Oh God, Kalyndra, you're so beautiful!"

He grunted out the words as he began stuffing her again.

"Ezra, Ezra, my chief. I'm close. Please don't stop! Oh, God!, I'm so close. Oh, no!"

But he hadn't stopped, only slowed. He felt himself building too quickly and wanted to last longer. He held off between thrusts and pushed his thumb into her aching pussy. Then he rammed in again. She came immediately, with an urgent yelping cry. She came again a minute later as he relentlessly drove his cock and thumb into her two adjacent holes until, unable to contain himself any longer, he came as well, groaning and shaking.

He collapsed onto her and rested for some time before untying her bonds. Then they slept the refreshing sleep of the sexually exhausted.

A buzz went around the camp early next morning when it was discovered that Kalyndra had escaped. A search party was again sent out. It was assumed she had made for the Mariner settlement but the tracking party found no sign of her having gone west. They spread out to search and soon found footprints in the muddy path beside the river.

A loud whistle summoned the dispersed trackers back to the camp. Mirselene was at breakfast when Sharne brought her report, so the discussion was in public. One who took part was Annela, who said:

"Madam, when I heard that Kalyndra had escaped, I feared she was going to fetch the Mariners. Now we know where she has gone, I think we can trust her. I propose we leave her with Ezra and, when she returns to work, we treat her kindly."

Mirselene was not impressed:

"Kalyndra has not been harmed or maltreated by us (consistent with being tied up and gagged, of course), and her escape is in breach of her agreement to work in compensation for assaulting Urulla. I want her brought back."

Parvinder also spoke up:

"I agree with Annela. Were Kalyndra malicious, she might have attacked any of us last night. We should censure her only if she doesn't turn up for work."

Mirselene saw where the consensus headed, so she conceded on the matter of punishment but not on the matter of bringing Kalyndra back. On that. she was adamant and she carried the tribe with her. Annela therefore volunteered to fetch her back. Erin and Sharne went with.

While the trackers searched for Kalyndra that morning, she and Ezra were having sex again. He'd warmed her up nicely, sucking her voluptuous tits and fingering her to a gently delicious climax. Then he tied her wrists and elbows together behind her back and bent her forward on the bed, her arse in the air, and began ramming her from behind. She moaned sweetly, getting gradually louder and more insistent; but he pulled out before she had another orgasm.

Lying back on the bed, he helped her squat over him and lower herself onto his upright cock. She rode him slowly and luxuriantly, a beautiful sensual fucking, made deliciously harder for her because she couldn't hold on. When she came, he held her tightly until the ecstatic feeling ebbed away, then she rode him again, wriggling her pelvis, getting enough friction to keep him in a state of glorious arousal. When he was close to his finish, he helped her balance and thrust up hard and fast into her smooth wet snatch. They came together with a joyful spasm and pulsing.

She rested on him until it was time to go.

Having dressed quickly, she kissed him goodbye and left for the camp. Half-way there, she met the party sent to collect her.

Annela said. "Hello, Kalyndra. We were on our way to find you."

"I am ready for work," she said, proffering her ropes, holding out her wrists to be bound.

"We won't need those," Annela replied. "Come, tell me: How was Ezra?"

The two women chatted amiably about their mutual lover all the way back to the camp where, persuaded that Kalyndra was no threat, Mirselene publicly announced the beautiful Mariner's forgiveness. She commanded that the rope bindings be discarded (but Kalyndra secreted them away for her own use with Ezra).

Mirselene also ruled that Kalyndra was not to return to the Honeymoon Lodge that week. It was, after all, still Dagma's month with Ezra and it was unfair on the other Woodlander women for Kalyndra to take her place if they could not. It was especially unfair on Urulla, whom Kalyndra had hospitalised. Kalyndra felt the injustice to Urulla deeply and meekly obeyed.

Urulla was sitting up during the day now and eating well (or as well as a skinny teenager on Samothea ever ate), slowly gaining strength. From the first she was delighted with her Mariner companion. They had lots in common with just enough differences to keep things interesting. Urulla was nineteen-and-a-half: Thalassa was very nearly eighteen. They were both tall and thin brunettes, though Urulla was mid-brown and Thalassa deep chestnut. Urulla had light-blue eyes with an intelligent spark: Thalassa had kind grey eyes that glinted silver in the sunlight.

For all her lively temperament and sexual spirit, Urulla was plain, with an aristocratic horsiness to her face and a strong jaw; whereas Thalassa was a real beauty, from her high forehead, perfect eyebrows over large pale eyes, a straight nose and thin mouth with sensual lips. Urulla had no jealousy but only real pleasure in her lovely new friend.

They were both talkers but Urulla soon ran out of breath, so Thalassa talked for them both, careful not to make Urulla laugh, however, because it was still painful. An interesting topic was the difference between life in the forest, where it was dank and humid but full of noise and variety, and life at the water's edge, where the soft whoosh of the regular waves lulled the senses and a salty breeze cooled the skin, but there were short feasts because the night-rain came early and nothing so interesting as birds and trees: only stupid fish, crabs and sea-weed.

Another fascinating topic was Ezra, and the fact that Urulla's month with him was supposed to start in a week. Then came the scandal of Kalyndra's behaviour, Ezra's pardonable response, his trial and exile for a week. Thalassa wisely left it to Dipti to tell Urulla those choice pieces of news.

Dipti visited her bedmate in the early mornings before work and then all evening, bringing their dinners into the hut. Much as Urulla enjoyed the company of Thalassa, Dipti's visit was the real joy of her day.

With the Woodlander's trust gained, Kalyndra was free to do something that her essential good nature had prompted but she had been ashamed to do while in restraints. She got permission to leave her work for an hour and sought out Thalassa. They conferred for a few minutes, then Thalassa nodded and went into Parvinder's hut.

She came back out and beckoned Kalyndra, who entered with her head bowed, her eyes modestly down.

It was always going to be an awkward meeting but Thalassa's kindness and Kalyndra's evident contrition mollified whatever resentment Urulla had stored for her assailant and produced in her an inclination to accept a heartfelt apology.

"My name is Kalyndra, I am the one who stabbed you."

"I recognise you. ... How are you being treated?"

"Much better than I deserve. ... Urulla, I am so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I didn't know what I was doing. It all happened so quickly."

Urulla said nothing.

"I am working in compensation for my actions but I can do more. I will do anything to make up for what I did. Please? Just command me."

"You don't have to do anything for me. I have whatever I need."

"I'm good with my hands. I can make excellent tools."

Thalassa corroborated this assertion with a nod.

"Please? Just command me," she repeated.

Urulla relented.

"I will think of something," she said.

Kalyndra saw the girl was tiring and so, with a last apology, she left the two teenagers together. Urulla shut her eyes a few minutes, then she said:

"I'd like to forgive her but I can't quite do so at the moment."

"I understand. ... You know, she is sincere about trying to make things right if she can."

"I know and the thing I can't really forgive her for is nothing she can do anything about. You know Ezra and I were due to be bedmates next month?"

"I know."

"When I dreamed of spending all month in bed, I didn't imagine it would be in a sick-bed!"

Thalassa laughed.

"There'll be plenty of time when you've recovered."

Urulla nodded.

"And would you have wanted to be a mother quite so young?"

"Now don't you be so reasonable and balanced. I'm going to be resentful if I feel like it! Besides, have you seen how radiant Annela looks? And my Dipti? Who wouldn't want to be carrying a child?"

Thalassa raised a perfect eyebrow.

"Except for Dagma, it seems. It hasn't taken you long to learn all our secrets, has it?"

As Urulla settled back into the bed for another rest, she thought that, much as Thalassa was now an expert on Woodlander matters, the girl had revealed almost nothing about how the Mariners conducted their affairs. This would have been something to puzzle over when she wasn't so tired.

Thalassa stayed in the hut while Urulla slept. She had one of Mirselene's books and made herself comfortable on the chair to read.

A few minutes later Urulla stirred again and in a sleepy voice said:

"There was something familiar about her dress..."

Then she fell asleep for real and dreamed of Dipti.

***

At the end of a week, Ezra returned to the camp. On the morning that he was due, Mirselene called out from the door of her hut, "Is he here yet?"

"No, Madam," Annela replied. She was on her veranda, looking out for him.

"He's to come and see me as soon as he arrives, Annela. No loitering, you understand?"

"Yes, Madam."

"Let me know when he's back."

When Ezra returned, he dropped his bundle at Annela's hut but she wouldn't let him in, instead giving him Mirselene's orders. He made his way to the chief's hut, feeling like a naughty schoolboy sent to the headmaster.

Mirselene came out to greet him, wanting their meeting to be in full view of the tribe. She didn't send the loitering women about their business but sat down at the table on the dais.

"Take a seat, Ezra," she invited.

He remained standing.

"Sit down, Ezra. I'm not going to talk to you while you're standing to attention."

"Yes, Madam."

"And don't 'Madam' me. We're friends enough for you to call me 'Mirselene'."

"Friends? I thought you hated me?"

"Why? For having rough sex with a woman who loves rough sex? That's no crime. Besides, I hear there's more than one woman in the camp who likes it rough."

Some of the eavesdroppers smiled to themselves at this.

"But, ... but you just exiled me for a week!" he exclaimed.

"And you have served your sentence and come back with a clean slate (whatever that is), so no recriminations and all is forgiven."

Ezra just stared. Could she really be so magnanimous?

"Thank you," he said, quietly.

"Now, let's go inside. I have prepared some refreshments."

This was amazing. He'd never heard of Mirselene cooking before. In truth, when he got inside, she'd only peeled a few fruits and laid out some salted meat but he was honoured and the whole tribe recognised this as a real sign of his forgiveness.

Once inside, however, she checked no one was listening and then said:

"Good God, man! I thought you might seduce her or she seduce you. I never dreamed you'd rape the girl."

"You ... you wanted this?"

"Not this precisely, but something like it. I wanted one or other of the Mariner women to fall for you, with the hope that she would become more amenable and forthcoming."

"Amenable and forthcoming about what?"

"Go on, eat. Don't just stare at me ..."

He obediently picked up some food and chewed unconsciously.

"... Amenable and forthcoming about what is going on among the Mariners. There is something peculiar happening in that tribe and before I consider an alliance or reveal the existence of your ship and its tools, I want to know what it is."

Ezra thought for a minute. None of it made sense. She had been against an alliance and now she was for it?

"This was all a ruse? Your fighting with me and giving me insulting orders was never serious?"

"Of course. I was keeping my options open. One scenario I planned was to exile you to the Mariners, so I needed our conflict to be believable."

"You could have told me."

"No, I couldn't. For all your charm, Ezra, you are a lousy actor. They would have seen through you in minutes."

"Madam ... Mirselene, please will you explain it all to me from the beginning because I am at a loss to understand anything."

Mirselene paused to order her thoughts, then she began:

"I suspected that Kalyndra was sent here as a spy. It's even possible the attack on Urulla was deliberate. Suppose the Mariners knew or guessed your existence. I could easily suspect that Belena ordered Kalyndra to assault someone so she could be sent here and learn if the rumours were true. Even Thalassa may also be a spy. Then, when they got back, the Mariners would attack our camp and kidnap you. Or maybe Kalyndra's shameful display was designed to entice you into returning with her to the Mariner camp."

"I think I understand Kalyndra quite well," he said, "and my experience tells me she is completely sincere - or a magnificent actor (unlike me)," he added ruefully. "As for Thalassa, she seems entirely innocent and honest to me."

"To me, too; and I'll take your word about Kalyndra as well. I have tried speaking to Thalassa about life at the Mariner settlement but she just looks down and mutters empty generalities. Apparently, the Mariner tribe is 'nice', Belena is 'nice', everything is 'nice'."

Mirselene sounded disgusted.

"What does Kalyndra say about her tribe?" she asked.

"To be honest, we haven't talked much, about anything."

Mirselene nodded in understanding as Ezra tried not to smile at his involuntary image of Kalyndra on her knees, his cock stuffed in her mouth, or her tied up, gagged with a coil of rope.

"Well, you'll have many more opportunities to talk, I am sure. Just be discreet."

"Thalassa is an interesting case, however," she continued. "You didn't see how forcefully Calliope pushed her forward to volunteer to be a hostage - and how much Belena revealed by trying to dissuade her. It may have been a blind, to trick me into taking her. But if the girl is innocent, then what I suspect is going on among the Mariners may be something even more monstrous than Belena's tyranny."

Ezra waited for her to explain further but she remained silent.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked.

"I want you to visit the Mariners, for a week or so, perhaps when Urulla has recovered and Kalyndra and Thalassa go home. I want you to be my eyes and ears. I suspect you might have ways of finding out things that a woman from another tribe may fail to discover."




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 07



"What things?"

"Why would Calliope prefer her daughter to be a hostage than to be at home with her mother? Why won't the girls talk about life among the Mariners? I won't trust Belena with information about your ship until I know the answers."

"I understand. So what happens in the meantime?"

"When Urulla is well enough to return to work, I'll contact Belena and tell her about you. She would never refuse your request to visit. Meanwhile, you make whatever arrangements you like regarding bedmates."

"Whatever arrangements I like?"

"So long as there's no risk of over-lapping pregnancies, you can choose whomever you like."

"Including Kalyndra?"

"Yes, even including Kalyndra," she said indulgently. "But remember that Sharne wants another child ... and Dagma doesn't know her own mind."

"Of course. ... You know, I never spurned Dagma."

"I know. Be patient with her. She'll come around. She probably needs more understanding and kindness than I can spare or that you have yet tried."

"I'll do my best."

"Good man."

He got up to leave but when he got to the door, he remembered something.

"By the way," he said, "thank you for the loan of the book."

She waved him away, smiling. Thus ended a curious interview that left Ezra with as many puzzling new questions as answers.

***

Urulla was recovering steadily. After a week of sitting up in bed she was feeling restless and it was agreed she could sit outside in the sun, so long as she was moved into the shade in the hot afternoons.

Ezra decided that he should spend a week each with his former bedmates. In the first week, he moved in with Annela. Everyone expected it and no one was jealous or felt ill-treated. One night they stayed at the Honeymoon Lodge and he showed her the improvements he had made during his exile. There was now a crude shower (which took half-an-hour to fill for the sake of a few minutes' convenient washing), a single-seater earth closet and some useful clay oil lamps on wooden stands.

He also fucked her senseless.

Her pregnant belly was fascinating and beautiful. He kissed the bump all over and caressed and stroked it for ages. When they had sex, she went on top, as she preferred, but she also liked it doggy-style, with her bump supported by a pillow.

After two weeks' rest, Urulla was allowed to walk around and perform some light cooking duties. She was grateful to be able to contribute something.

In their week together, Dipti and Ezra spent every night in the lodge. She had hesitated at first, not wanting to leave her girlfriend, but Urulla had insisted she go and enjoy herself. No disloyalty was implied. Rather, because she could not have sex with Dipti at the moment, Dipti should have twice as much sex with Ezra. Dipti didn't question the logic of Urulla's argument but simply and happily obeyed.

At the lodge, they used the swing so often they had to repair it. Dipti also asked to be spanked. The few times Urulla had spanked her, it had been fun but not nearly hard enough. She was sure Ezra would do a better job.

He sat on the edge of the bed and she lay over his knees. He fondled her bottom first, making her wait, building anticipation. Then he smacked her hard on a buttock. She yelped but stayed in place. He spanked her again and continued spanking, getting gradually harder until, finally, she rolled off him holding her bottom, small tears leaking from her eyes but satisfaction on her face.

He got her to kneel on the edge of the bed and stood behind her. Her moist beckoning pussy looked like two damp pillows. He shoved his hard cock into her and began fucking. His thighs slapped against her bruised bottom, reminding her of the punishment. She came hard and vowed always to make spanking part of their love-making from now on.

After three weeks recovering, Urulla was up and about all day, though still prohibited by her nurses from any stressful labour or walking more than half-a-mile from the camp.

By mutual agreement, Ezra and Sharne belonged to each other this week. They had delayed until she was in her most fertile phase. Sharne was pleased to try again for another child. Their week together was sexually fulfilling and physically exhausting. She was sometimes so tired from riding him all night that she spent the morning yawning and once took a nap under a fallen trunk while the others worked. Kalyndra smiled to Ezra and Dagma's face was unreadable. This week was apparently successful: Sharne missed her period.

A month had gone by and Urulla could go out with the foragers but not with a basket of her own and she was not to bend down too much when gathering or plucking.

Although Urulla was recovering strongly, she was not fully cured, yet Mirselene began to plan how she would arrange the return of the Mariner women and the proposed visit of Ezra to their tribe. She sent a message to Belena via the traders at the monthly meeting, saying that she hoped Urulla would be better by the next trade meeting.

By chance, her message crossed with a message from Belena, asking for a special meeting between the chiefs in one week to which Thalassa should also come. Mirselene led a party to the meeting place but left Thalassa in the camp. She brought Annela and Ezra, leaving them concealed in the forest while she met Belena under the shade of a tent in the open plain.

After the usual greetings and an inquiry regarding the health of Urulla, Belena said:

"I have been asked to make a special request to you on behalf of Calliope. She would like Thalassa back to celebrate her eighteenth birthday. I have brought you another girl in her place."

She signalled a pretty thin blonde girl to came forward.

"This is Cressi. She is twenty and will make a good companion for Urulla while she recovers."

Mirselene smiled a greeting at Cressi, who smiled sweetly back.

"Sister, I completely understand Calliope's feelings and, of course, we will ask Thalassa if she wants to return early. Though she and Urulla are such good friends it would be a shame to split them up, but I'm sure she will agree to her mother's request." 

"Quite so, but where is Thalassa?"

"I left her a little way back."

Mirselene felt no compunction about lying to Belena, who was certainly lying to her. It was significant that Calliope was not there to confirm the request. Belena eagerness to have Thalassa back was suspicions in itself.

"In the meantime, there's something in the forest I want you to see."

"What is it?"

Now it was Belena's turn to be suspicious.

"I'd rather you saw for yourself. Walk with me a little. It's not far."

"Just us?"

"Bring your women with, if you want. They'll be just as interested as you, I promise."

Belena was wary but she was also brave and the Woodlanders had never before been treacherous.

"All right," she agreed.

Belena and her tribeswomen followed Mirselene a short way into the forest. The party stopped by a tree stump and Belena was invited to sit down. She preferred to stand.

"As you wish," Mirselene said, taking a seat herself. "Annela!" she called.

Annela stepped out from behind a ticket. She was wearing her blouse over her peasant skirt. The blouse was too tight for her swollen belly, which pushed out between the clothes.

It took Belena half-a-minute to realise what she was seeing. She stared at Annela in wonderment. Her women gasped.

"How?" she demanded, pointing to Annela's belly.

"My bedmate, that's how!" Annela said, not offended by the rude question.

"A male bedmate? How can you have a male bedmate? Did a man fall out of the sky?"

"In fact, he did, Sister," Mirselene said. "Right into our camp."

"You have a man in your camp? Why have I heard nothing of this? How long have you had him? Where is he from? Can I see him?"

As Mirselene answered these questions in order, she ticked them off on her fingers.

"Yes, there is a man living among the Woodlanders, as a member of our tribe. I am gratified to learn that the Woodlanders can keep a secret. He has been with us nearly five months. He is from Earth and, yes, you can see him. ... Ezra!"

He also stepped forward into the glade.

Belena stared, sat down and remained staring at him while the Mariners huddled into a group and whispered together.

He came over to be introduced.

"Sister," Mirselene said to Belena, "this is Ezra Goldrick. Ezra, this is Belena, chief of the Mariners."

She took his proffered hand but neither gripped it nor let it go.

"Won't you introduce me to the rest of the Mariners?" he asked.

"Why?" She seemed stunned but recovered quickly. "Of course."

She led him to her four tribeswomen. Ezra shook hands with them as they stared open-mouthed at him, all except Cressi, who reached up and felt his beard with her fingers.

"Cressi!" Belena admonished her. "Don't be so rude."

"I'm sorry, Madam. I'm sorry, er ... I just wanted to check it was real."

Ezra smiled.

"I don't mind at all. And please call me Ezra."

Thus emboldened, she felt his beard again. So did the other women, to Annela's amusement. Meanwhile, Mirselene invited Belena to sit by her again.

"Sister," she said, "Ezra asked me if you would mind putting him up for a week. He wants to visit the sea-side. Apparently, it's an Earth custom to holiday on the beach. I can't say I understand it, no shade, no trees, just sand and sea; but I told him I'd ask you."

"You will let Ezra come and spend a week with us?"

"'Let' is hardly the right word, is it Sister? Ezra is just as free as anyone to come and go as he likes. I just thought, if he wants to visit the sea-side, whom better to take care of him than the Mariners?"

Belena was just as cunning as Mirselene and took none of this at face-value.

"So, if Ezra wants a holiday, why did you bring Annela, who just happens to prove that he likes women and is sexually potent?"

"Well, it's certainly true that Ezra likes women and, as a kindly hostess, I'm sure you wouldn't want him to be lonely while he's visiting. I'm sure he'll find all the Mariners friendly, though doubtless he'll prefer one or two over the others."

"One or two? In a week?"

"I think so."

"Hmm! And, doubtless, Ezra is unhappy with the present rate of exchange between Mariner goods and Woodlander goods?"

"As it happens, Sister, I do believe he has expressed an opinion on that very matter."

"Really? What did he say?"

"That you are stiffing us by at least fifty percent."

Belena smiled at last.

"He's not very diplomatic, is he, Sister?"

"It's apparently a manly virtue to be direct."

"All right," Belena said. "I agree, of course. ... You can have a one-quarter price-cut after Ezra has spent one month on 'holiday' with us. I'm sure if you can spare him for a week then you can spare him a month."

Mirselene nodded her agreement to these terms. She invited Ezra to join their discussion, disappointing the Mariner women.

Belena began:

"Ezra, I would like to invite you to visit the Mariner Settlement when Urulla is fully recovered and my women return to us. Mirselene says your tribe can spare you for a month but you are welcome to stay as long as you like. You will find my women are plaint and eager bedmates."

"Thank you, Madam. I look forward to the visit. I'm sure I will enjoy my stay. All the Mariners I have met so far have been charming and friendly."

Belena smiled and shook his hand again. None the less, the wonderment of a living man and a pregnant woman did not drive her original business from her mind.

"What about Thalassa?" she asked.

"I've taken a shine to the girl. I'd like to keep her in the camp," Mirselene said.

"And do you like her, too, Ezra?"

"Yes, very much. I want her to stay with us until Urulla has recovered."

Belena looked carefully at him and then at Mirselene again. It was clear she could not press for the return of Thalassa without jeopardizing Ezra's visit. Something puzzled her but she didn't know what it was; yet the visit of an actual man to her tribe took precedence over everything else. There was no thought in her mind of capturing him for her tribe but she thought she could rely on the physical attractions of the Mariner women to induce him to stay longer than a month.

The discussion ended with the Mariners swearing an oath never to reveal Ezra's existence to the Herders or Cloners. It was in all their interests to keep his presence on Samothea a secret between the two friendly tribes.

Thus the parties separated. On the way back, Ezra walked with Mirselene. Annela was a little away ahead, walking with Erin and Sharne.

Mirselene looked fondly at the pregnant woman and saw Ezra was doing the same.

"Ezra, can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"What do you think of fatherhood?"

"Until a few months ago, I thought it was a sublime and beautiful thing that, unfortunately, I had no opportunity to experience. Now I think it is a daunting, scary and very real responsibility."

"I'm glad you're not complacent, at least."

"Far from it. I worry about it often."

"Yet you are willing to be father to many children, maybe dozens?"

"I could say I like sex and there's no contraception on Samothea, but the truth is, I have always wanted children, in a theoretical way, and never done anything about it. But now it's what the women of Samothea want, I want it too. Also, the alternative might be that human life on this planet dies out."

"You now think of saving Samothea as your mission?"

"You sound like my mother. For the last ten years, she has been pestering me to settle down with a nice girl and give her grandchildren. Before I left for Samothea, she made it a condition of lending me money for the trip that I would settle down afterward. She said, if finding Samothea was my mission, then finding a nice girl for me would be hers."

"What would she say now?"

"I think she would say I should do as I must, so long as I love all my children equally."

"All of them? No favourites?"

"No favourites."

"Even Mariner children?"

That stopped him. All the while he had been fucking Kalyndra, he hadn't once thought about children. He wondered if Kalyndra had. But he had to think of it now, if he was to visit the Mariners.

"Why would they be different?"

"Only because every child the Mariners have will strengthen them against the Cloners. That might influence how honest they will be in an alliance with us."

"It's possible that Kalyndra and I have already started strengthening the Mariners against the Cloners."

"Yes, but one or two more Mariner brats won't make a difference. Ten will."

He was shocked by her language.

"Those Mariner 'brats' will be my sons and daughters and I will love them just as much as I will love my Woodlander children."

"Well said, Ezra! I expected no less from you. But I want to warn you against a possible misapprehension."

"What misapprehension?"

"That Belena and her women must think of the matter the way you do. You cannot be certain they will think of you as a bedmate and father, rather than merely as a human drone."

It was true, of course, even obvious. And while he was helping the Samothean population to survive, he might also be setting up the conditions for future tribal conflict. It was a worrying thought and he dwelled on it all the way back to the camp, until Kalyndra met him at the entrance to the camp to claim her bedmate rights.

He took her to the lodge, tied her face down to the bed, gagged her and then fucked her arse until his cock was sore. Afterward, dominated and fulfilled, Kalyndra held him tightly as they lay together in sweaty exhaustion, while all his worries about tomorrow washed away in a dreamless sleep.



Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 08



Sorry it has taken so long to finish this chapter, which is the longest up to now.

So far in the story: Ezra Goldrick from Earth crash-landed on Samothea, a planet inhabited by cloned women organised into competing tribes. He was rescued by two juveniles from the Herder tribe, Wildchild and Tamar. They took him to the Woodlander tribe and then left with Carlin, a Woodlander girl, on a quest to find Tamar's mother and the lost Miner tribe in the White Mountains. Ezra, meanwhile, took the fertile Woodlanders in turn as his bedmates, so far impregnating three.

After a fight which injured Urulla, a teenage Woodlander, two women of the Mariner tribe came to live temporarily with the Woodlanders, one (Kalyndra) as reparations, the other (Thalassa) as hostage. Ezra appeared to rape Kalyndra but was exhonerated at a trial and now she is one of his regular bedmates in the forest. Chapter 7 ended with the agreement that Ezra would pay a visit to the Mariners in one month's time.

In order of age, the Mariners Ezra will meet are:

Yolande (61) - mother of Elinor

Helen (57) - mother of Salema

Ferne (54) - mother of Kalyndra

Belena (51) - Chief of the Mariners, mother of Gerta

Philippa (48) - mother of Devon

Beatrice (45) - mother of Cressi

Calliope (42) - mother of Thalassa

Althea (39) - mother of Odette

Leanne (36) - mother of Juniel

Elinor (33) - mother of May

Salema (30) - mother of Della

Kalyndra (28) - daughter of Ferne

Gerta (25) - daughter of Belena - now at the Cloner City

Devon (22) - daughter of Philippa

Cressi (20) - daughter of Beatrice

Thalassa (18) - daughter of Calliope

Odette (14) - daughter of Althea

Juniel (10) - daughter of Leanne

May (6) - daughter of Elinor

Della (3) - daughter of Salema

1Sex with Annela

Annela was on top, leaning back, fucking Ezra with slow luxuriant strokes. His stiff rod in her pussy gave her the stretch and rub she so craved, that brought out her sweet moans and, lately, a kind of chirruping noise that amused him. Her held her waist firmly and helped her thrust. Her beautiful pregnant belly stuck out in front, like the prow of a boat. Her small tits were heavier than normal and wobbled with the rhythm. Her erect nipples, usually small and pink, were large and dark.

He stretched over her warm belly to suck on a tit, baby-style. She adored when he did this and lent forward to make it easier. He sucked the whole tit into his mouth and rubbed his tongue over the nipple. She sighed with contentment from the sensual tug.

They stayed in this position until she came, with a gasp in her throat and a fluttering in her pussy. Then she collapsed onto him.

Ezra wasn't done, though. He helped her lay flat across the bed and raised her pelvis with a pillow. She spread her legs wide and held her ankles. He stood before her and stuffed his cock hard into her tight pussy. She moaned louder as he rammed her, the note rising as she reached another peak, which shook her thighs and splashed her cum onto the floor. Then he came himself, slowly pulsing his seed into her quivering snatch.

Afterward they rested together, holding each other tightly, a glow of satisfaction and sexual contentment kept them warm, despite the cold night rain hammering on the roof and flooding the gullies beside the hut.

Annela couldn't stay long in one place, however. She had to keep moving, trying to get comfortable. It made her tense and agitated.

"Sorry, darling," she said, as she kicked him again and stuck an elbow into his face.

"Here, try this," he said. He sat behind her on the bed and she leant back. He wrapped his arms around her belly and she held his arms.

"Is it good?"

"Yes, it's good," she agreed.

He gently rubbed her belly, hoping to feel a kick or movement, but the baby seemed to be sleeping.

Annela herself couldn't sleep. To take her mind off her discomfort, Ezra told her about Earth. This always entertained her. He described the cities, their giant buildings and innumerable people, which she could never believe. Her imagination failed again when he described aeroplanes, space-ships, boats and submarines.

Then she wanted to know his favourite places in the galaxy.

"The best things I've seen have all been on moons and small planets. One moon is a pure white ball, its surface covered in frozen methane. If you land on it at an angle and a good speed, your ship will skate along for hours. One planet has got volcanoes on it fifty miles high that spurt out plumes of black and orange smoke, most of which drifts out into space and is washed away by light-pressure from its sun, giving the planet a tail like a comet. But my favourite is a small moon that got hit by a meteorite, so one side is a punched-in crater and the other side bulges out. The crater is filled with an ocean of red water, which steams and bubbles, covering the whole moon in a ghostly pink mist."

"It's a huge galaxy," he concluded, "and the human part of it is less than one tree in the entire forest, less even than a grain of sand on the sea-shore."

She had lain still for a long time but was uncomfortable again, the weight of her bump was pressing on her bladder. She tried lying on her side. Ezra lay behind her and reached over to stroke her belly.

"Despite everything I've seen on any planet or moon," he said, "the greatest miracle and the most beautiful thing in the galaxy is a pregnant woman."

"Beautiful? I'm fat and I waddle like a duck."

It wasn't true. Annela was one of those lucky women who had a bump out in front and no other sign of pregnancy than her rosy cheeks, her shining hair and her sparkling eyes. She felt fat though.

He kissed her shoulder.

"You know, ducks can be beautiful, fat can be sexy."

"You're rubbish at flattery."

"Even if I say you're the sexiest duck in the galaxy?"

"Lie on your back," she said, ignoring this. "You're wasted as a comforter but maybe I can use you as a pillow."

He lay back and she squeezed up against him.

"Useless," she said. "You're too hard." But she stayed where she was and rested her head on his chest.

"Maybe we should get Dagma to sleep with you."

"Oh, Ezra! That was really mean. I've never heard you make fun of her before."

"I know. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be nasty but she frustrates me, with all that nonsense about us not being bedmates. And she always seems angry when I'm near her, ever since we first met. I don't understand her at all."

"Get her to bed, then you'll understand her more."

He thought seriously about it for a minute: after all, they're not called 'intimate relations' for nothing.

"But how can I do that?"

"Have you tried seducing her?"

"She barely even speaks to me, and then only about work. How can I seduce her?"

"Turn on the charm. Give her the full Ezra Goldrick experience."

"What on Earth is 'the full Ezra Goldrick experience'?"

"Samothea ..."

"Pardon?"

"You should say 'What on Samothea ...?'"

"All right, What on Samothea is 'the full Ezra Goldrick experience'?"

"You know, all manly and commanding."

"Commanding?"

"Well, confident, then. You're good at saying what you want."

"Do you think that would work with Dagma? I thought you said she was shy. Mirselene was always telling me to be more patient and understanding."

"She is shy but maybe Mirselene is wrong: there are other ways to deal with shyness."

"You know, I'm not sure she's shy."

"All right then, tell me your theory."

"I don't know I have a theory but it occurs to me that all the other Woodlanders are thin and good-looking, so maybe she's a little ashamed of her looks."

"Why should she be ashamed? Besides, didn't you tell me that fat women are better in bed."

"Yes, but how would she have learned that? And it's not the same as good-looking, you know."

"All right, so Dagma's either shy or ashamed; if you were extra-charming, you could overcome both."

"And when should I be extra-charming? I'm going to the Mariner Settlement in three weeks."

Now that Urulla was recovering, Kalyndra and Thalassa were to go home and Ezra was going with them to stay a month with the Mariners. He was saying goodbye to his three bedmates one week at a time, starting (as usual) with Annela.

Annela pondered his question and decided:

"Tomorrow night, at the feast."

"What about our week together if I'm successful?"

"I don't mind and I don't think Sharne will, either. Dagma deserves a proper go."

"All right, I'll try, though I don't see why I should be more successful than two months ago."

Contented and relaxed for the moment, she kissed him and rolled over, trying to sleep. He spooned her and wrapped an arm around to hold her warmly. Eventually, she dozed off, but not before Ezra was fast asleep and dreaming.

His dream started off with Annela and him on his favourite moon. They were lying in the warm red ocean, making love, when Kalyndra appeared from under the sea. Red rivulets and pink sea-spume fell off her head and down her perfect bronze body as she rose naked from the water. Ezra was embarrassed: Kalyndra's wrists and ankles showed the marks from her restraints, her bottom was bright red from a hard spanking and his teeth marks were all over her magnificent breasts. Annela seemed only amused.

"Go, fuck her hard for me," she said, pushing him away.

Kalyndra walked up to him. He stood and they kissed. She melted into his arms but when he looked to find a place to lay her down, they were no longer in the ocean but on a rocky asteroid with no atmosphere. The surface was so black that they couldn't see where the rocks ended and space began. There were sharp edges everywhere and nowhere to lie down but suddenly they were sucked into the air-lock of a passing space-ship.

Ezra entered the space-ship through the inner door but it closed behind him, trapping Kalyndra in the air-lock. He turned to help her but she waved him on happily, encouraging him to look behind him. There was Tatiana Tcherenkova, his mentor and mistress, kneeling down to take his cock into her mouth. She began sucking on it.

He wanted to speak to her but he couldn't make a sound. He was worried about Kalyndra, trapped in the air-lock, but when he turned to check on her, it wasn't the inspection port-hole but the open window of the dormitory at his university. It was a memory, not a dream. The sun streamed through the window on a hot summer's day. He was lying naked on his bunk as his lovely blonde girlfriend knelt between his outstretched legs and sucked his cock.

She was new to it, as was Ezra, but she was doing a good job for her second time ever. He was loving it and, not knowing what to do with his hands, began stroking her hair.

"That's perfect, Sandy," he said. "You're amazing!"

"Sandy?"

Suddenly there was no soft mouth on his cock and Ezra was awake.

"Annela?" he asked.

She was crouched on all fours between his legs and had been sucking his cock, stiff with a morning erection.

"Who's Sandy?" she asked, in an apparently affronted voice.

"Sorry, Darling. An old girlfriend. I was dreaming."

"Well, I can't blame you for dreaming of other women, I suppose," though her tone suggested she blamed him very much.

Annela knew a blow-job was the perfect way to wake him up and she oughtn't to leave it unfinished for long. But she was having fun teasing him. She let him stew for a minute, then said:

"I know I'm not your dream woman but would you like me to finish?"

"No!"

"No? You don't want me to finish?"

"No, I mean, yes, you are my dream woman, in real flesh and blood, and I do want you to finish."

Smiling she went back to sucking him off and did so nicely. She put a finger on the top of his penis and licked along the shaft, cupping his balls and gently fondling them. When she felt he was ready, she swallowed his cock into her mouth and bobbed her head, her fingers on his shaft squeezing firmly.

She stopped bobbing and flicked her tongue on the underside of his cock, working up to the tip. That was exquisite for him. She swallowed his cock again and repeated this until his panting grew loud and she tasted his pre-cum.

Holding him in her mouth, she ran her tongue around the tip of his cock, feeling the head enlarge. He was almost there.

She bobbed her head again, swallowing him down further, rubbing the head of his cock against the roof of her mouth. Her tongue was working wonders on the underside of the tip and now, when she squeezed his cock hard in her fingers and began wanking him faster, it brought him off. He spurted out his cum in short shuddering bursts. She wanked out the last drops as his climax waned and he relaxed, his eyes shut, savouring the afterglow.

Annela sat up, spat her mouthful of cum into her hands and rubbed it over her belly. Then, after their ablutions, they arrived late (as usual) to breakfast to prepare for a special day. Today was Thalassa's eighteenth birthday and the Woodlanders planned to celebrate as if she were one of their own, with a feast, drums, singing and dancing.

2Thalassa's birthday party

It had been the practise on Samothea, as in all the galaxy, to take one day off in seven, but the Woodlanders' precarious existence meant this was a rare luxury. None the less, Mirselene declared a rest from regular tasks so everyone could contribute to the feast.

There were two surprises that evening. With Dipti's help, Kalyndra and Thalassa had collected long dry grass from the meadow and woven it into knitted cloth bands to make grass skirts, tops and ankle bands for themselves and for Urulla. They decorated the tops (really just a tube around the chest) with meadow flowers. This was a traditional Mariner costume. Kalyndra had proposed it to celebrate Urulla's recovery. After five weeks, Urulla had returned to light work duties and everyone was pleased to see how impatient she was of being molly-coddled. She intended to dance at Thalassa's birthday party, to show how much she had mended.

The three girls dressed in secret and then arrived at the feast together, drawing every eye with their tall thin frames and revealing costumes.

The other surprise was unveiled as soon as Thalassa sat down. Sharne brought over a birthday present. It was a deep wooden box with a lid and compartments inside, filled with phials and small bags of medicines, wooden spoons and spatulas, stone knives and bandages, a perfect present for an aspiring nurse. All the tribe had contributed and Thalassa was overwhelmed. She couldn't speak but went around hugging everyone, then she held the box on her lap, taking everything out and putting it all back, one by one, gloating over it and neglecting her food.

After dinner, it was time to dance.

Sharne and Erin played the drums and everyone danced, except for Lenta, who couldn't move so well, Mirselene, who preferred to watch, Dagma, who had reasons of her own and Ezra, who could dance but didn't enjoy it much.

The Mariners and Woodlanders had different dancing styles. The Woodlanders danced in a group, stamping their feet, holding hands in a ring or swinging their partners around. All except for Pepi, who was a maverick, keeping to the rhythm but to rules of her own devising, skipping in and out of the line.

The two Mariners danced as individuals, standing still or moving their feet only a little but bending their knees and swaying their hips, sometimes holding their arms over their heads. It was very alluring, especially in the grass skirts, which emphasised their curves (though the gorgeous Kalyndra didn't need any help in that regard).

The women taught each other their steps and then, by mutual consent, decided Ezra had to come and dance. Previously, he had always resisted but Thalassa was sent to ask him because he couldn't resist the girl on her birthday. She demanded to learn an Earth dance and held out her a thin delicate hand to invite him up.

His mother had insisted Ezra learn as a boy, which had put him off ever since, but he remembered the moves. Taking Thalassa by the waist with one arm, he placed her left hand on his shoulder and held her other hand, saying "Follow my steps but in reverse."

She understood and pretty soon they were moving around so well that he could try spinning her a little. She caught on quickly and whooped for joy when he span her around, letting her go and pulling her back in. The grass skirt flew up around her waist and her top began to shed its garland of petals.

Everyone wanted a go and Ezra taught the steps to the other dancers. It was too energetic for Annela, who swapped places with Sharne. Urulla also needed a rest and went to relieve Erin, who claimed her turn with Ezra. Now everyone was dancing again, taking turns to dance the man's part; yet one young woman still sat out. Annela and Ezra shared a glance. It was time for him to turn his charm on Dagma.

3Seducing Dagma

He approached the stocky girl.

"I understand if you don't like dancing," he said, "but it's for Thalassa's birthday and I thought you might want to celebrate."

"No thanks, Ezra, I don't dance."

He could imagine Annela's look, boring into the back of his head, telling him to be manly and commanding.

"Dagma, I think you should dance tonight."

He saw a hint of nervous doubt in her face, as if she was questioning her own answer, as if he had some kind of power over her. He decided to test it.

"I want you to dance with me tonight!"

Her legs obeyed his voice even though her mind refused. She stood up and, before she could retreat, he grabbed her hand and pulled her into the crowd. Mirselene did her best to pretend not to notice, so as not to spook her daughter as, by an unspoken agreement, everyone seemed to be looking elsewhere, rather than give Dagma even a moment's cause for embarrassment.

He held her the same way he had held Thalassa but Dagma was a clumsy dancer and couldn't get the hang of it. Fearing he would drive her away, Ezra signalled the drummers to play something slower.

He pulled Dagma to him and held her close. She could dance this way quite easily: it was little more than swaying to the music. Dagma began to enjoy herself and danced with Ezra until the end of the feast, when night fell and the whispering wind brought the sharp sniff of impending rain.

The women kissed Thalassa goodnight and accepted her effusive thanks, then made for their huts, but Ezra still held onto Dagma.

"Did you enjoy the dancing?"

"Yes," she said, answering warily.

"Do you want to continue the party in your hut?"

"No ... I ..." she hesitated and Ezra realised his mistake.

"I want us to continue the party in your hut. Come on!"

Again, her legs did what her mind refused. They entered her hut and sat together on the bed, still holding hands, as they had done ever since starting to dance. She didn't seem able to let go. Ezra took that as a good sign and leant in for a kiss.

Dagma seemed to enjoy kissing and they kissed for a couple of minutes until Ezra tried to use his tongue and she pulled away. Yet she still held his hands, gripping tightly. Ezra sat back and asked:

"Don't you want to make love?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"It feels wrong."

"Why does it feel wrong?"

She didn't answer.

"No one else in the tribe thinks it's wrong. Your mother doesn't think it's wrong."

"But they don't understand..." She was upset, almost in tears. "They don't understand what it feels like to be ..."

"To be what?"

Ezra was convinced she was going to say 'unattractive' and was prepared to tell her how brains and moral qualities are just as attractive as physiques, but she said:

"... to be so dirty."

"Dirty? You think sex is dirty?"

"I know it is."

"How on Earth can you have learned that? Certainly not from anyone here."

"I've always known it. ... I'm the only one who thinks this way. The others took bedmates as soon as they were old enough. They didn't care about being sluts ..."




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 08



"They're not sluts, Dagma."

"Why else do they want sex?"

Ezra was stunned. Of all things he imagined motivated Dagma, it wasn't this.

"Do you never want to have sex?" he asked, gently.

"You don't understand at all!"

"I'm sorry, please explain."

She was silent.

"Dagma," he spoke sharply, "tell me what I don't understand!"

Again, a simple command prompted the girl to obey. Now at last she let go of his hands and clasped hers together in her lap. She hung her head and spoke quietly, yet with a subterranean passion. She didn't know why she was going to reveal her innermost secrets to a man she had known only a few months and rarely spoke to before; yet she didn't know how to refuse. She started slowly, self-recrimination in her voice.

"You say I don't want sex but you're wrong: ... I want sex. I want it very strongly, all the time, I always have ..."

"Always?"

"Yes! ... When was younger, I used to touch myself. You know ... there. My mother thought I was lazy because I spent so long in bed but I was playing with myself, making myself happy. It was an obsession. I'd do it five times, even ten times, a day. It felt so good at first, like I was flying, floating on the clouds."

"So it does. Sex is a spark of pure joy. How can it be dirty?"

"Something happened."

"What happened?"

"I had a punishment, or a warning. It showed me how dirty I was. It told me I had to stop."

"Go on." Ezra wondered what on Earth it could have been.

"One day, I was in bed, touching myself, having fun, when I put my fingers inside myself. Previously, all I'd done was outside, stroking and rubbing. But inside, it felt even better. I gave myself more pleasure than I'd ever had before, more pleasure than was bearable but I couldn't stop. I got the most amazing feeling and then it all went black. I must have fainted and when I woke up, my bed was soaked. I'd wet myself. ... I pretended I'd had a bad dream. Mum was kind but I realised then how dirty I was. Pissing myself was a sign of my shame. ... I've never touched myself since."

"Oh, God! Dagma. But it's nothing. You squirted. That's all. Many women do that, most of them can, if you finger them the right way."

She wasn't convinced.

"It's not urine, you know. It's a fluid like the semen that men produce, except women produce much more of it. Darling, it isn't dirty at all. It's beautiful. Many woman get more pleasure from a squirting orgasm than from any other kind of orgasm."

This didn't convince her, either, but the fact that she had revealed so much to him was encouraging. It also caused a puzzling question.

"Dagma, why did you dance with me?"

"You told me to."

Annela would have said the same thing, but as a joke. He asked:

"Since when have you obeyed me?"

"Since tonight, when you started giving me orders."

"Good God! Are you serious?"

"Yes," she whispered and went quiet again. Could it be, he thought, that he had misunderstood her completely?

"Why would you obey me?"

Now that she was letting it all out, however shameful, she relaxed her guard and spoke freely.

"Ever since I first saw you, I wanted you to take me, to force me to have sex with you, but it made me feel dirtier than ever before. I was ashamed of myself and angrier than I'd ever been."

"You were angry with yourself? I thought you were angry with me."

"With you? Why would I be angry with you? I worshipped you."

"But," he was flummoxed. "... but you refused to be my bedmate. Why?"

"Because then everyone would know what a slut I am."

The way she said it made it sound obvious, though it still made no sense.

"Dagma, I'm going to cure you of the idea that sex is dirty. Sex is clean and beautiful and exactly the right thing for healthy men and women who want to celebrate being alive and are not cheating on others."

"I can't believe it. I know I'm vile. I feel it - but I also want to obey you, I want to be your whore. ... But I don't want to shame you by giving you something so dirty. ... I know it sounds insane; I know I'm not normal. Oh, how can I explain?"

She paused, trying to find the right words.

"Remember when Kalyndra testified at your trial, that you could do anything you wanted to her and she would always follow you? Well, everyone thought she was just a brazen slut but I understood. I struggled not to shout out 'Do it to me, too! I'll follow you as well!' Then I realised I'm just as much a slut as Kalyndra."

"Kalyndra isn't a slut and there's nothing insane or abnormal about wanting sex, even as much as you do. ... You know, if you really want to obey me, I could command you to have sex with me."

"Please don't, Ezra. Why would you want me?"

At that moment, he did want her.

"This is all nonsense!" he said. "Stand up, woman!"

She stood up.

"Take your shirt off!"

She did so. Although it was dark, she modestly folded her arms over her large soft breasts.

"Now your skirt."

Again, she obeyed and was now naked. Her face was flushed with embarrassment. She felt dirty and guilty - but also more alive than ever before. Her skin tingled and she held her breath, anticipating his first touch; but he stood there, doing nothing.

Ezra waited, and then he waited some more. The tension rose between them, her breaths got heavier. Her sense of lust began to win over her sense of shame. She felt her own yearning, the sexual longing and hunger she had suppressed for so long. It began to take over her mind, the way his commanding voice had done all evening.

She willed her arms down to her side, standing naked and exposed before him, her warm pink flesh washed of its colour in the darkling light.

"Please hold me," she begged.

He held her. She hugged him tightly and felt relief. This was as far as she would trust herself. She may be naked, but she wasn't being dirty, not yet.

Comfortable in his arms, she rested her head on his chest and shut her eyes. A moment later, her bottom rang with a sharp slap and a painful squeeze. He had smacked a generous buttock and now gripped it as a sign of possession. She tried to move away but he simply commanded "Stay" and she stayed.

"Kiss me!" he ordered, and though she wanted to say "No" she raised her mouth to his and they kissed again. Her full lips parted to allow his tongue to penetrate. He made her open her mouth wider and kiss properly with her tongue. This felt dirty - but it was also right because she was obeying him.

On the bed now, sitting side-by-side, they kissed with more passion. He began to fondle a breast and she tried to move his hand away. He grabbed her by the hair and pulled her head back, breaking the kiss.

"Do not resist me," he commanded.

She was under his control now. Her hand went back to her side and she felt her tit held firmly, the large nipple growing hard as he gently squeezed it between his finger and thumb.

He kissed her again and she responded, humming in her throat, spreading her legs, opening herself up to him. She had been an incompetent dancer, often moving in the wrong direction; but she seemed to be an instinctively good lover, following his lead and responding eagerly.

She rolled her head back when he kissed her neck. Her eyes shut, she felt heat in her pussy. Her skin tingled at his touch when he caressed her breasts and thighs. She raised her knees. His mouth was on her shoulder, his hand cupping her furry mound, his fingers a feather-light touch on her warm wet nether-lips, her clitoris a stiff nub against his palm.

She began to moan gently, a sweet high-pitched, girlish sound, incongruous in a big woman. Dagma was chunky, like an athlete with a layer of insulation, not really fat. Her bones were big, giving her strong shoulders. Her stomach was soft on the surface, hard muscle underneath. Good thigh muscles, too, with strong buttocks and wide womanly hips. Her tits were massive and ready to be sucked.

Ezra put his mouth to a nipple and licked gently. The tingling sensation became a warmth that bathed her chest and back. She pushed her chest up, seeking more contact, ashamed of herself for being so wanton but unable to resist. Ezra took the invitation and sucked her nipple into his mouth. The warmth in her pussy was becoming a fire, made worse because his hand lay so softly on her. She squirmed and began to buck. He fingered her clitoris harder.

Lying on her, his mouth attached to a tit, his hand wreaking devastation on her pussy, the sensual rub took her back years, to the joys of self-pleasure, now much greater under a masterful hand. She moaned and arched her back. Her flaring pussy-lips beckoned his fingers. He stroked her damp inner labia and she bucked faster, moaning loudly. His vigorous rub on her clitoris brought her to a peak and she came hard, covering her mouth with her hands to stifle her ecstatic cry.

She breathed heavily and tried to close her legs.

"Do you still feel dirty?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Do you want to stop."

"Please, no!"

There was humour in his voice when he said, "Are you a slut, Dagma?"

"Yes, but I'm your slut, Ezra."

"That'll do. Now, spread your legs wide, slut."

She did so and he kissed down her belly, around her mound to her thighs and, after teasing a little, took his first taste of her salty slit. She bucked and squirmed and felt her old sense of uninhibited joy again. She was moaning loudly, her breaths short, the hot fire in her pussy spreading to her belly and back. She arched again, pushing her pussy up into his face, wanting more, needing another climax.

He pushed a finger into her wet snatch and diddled her clitoris with his thumb. She was soaking. He pushed a second finger in and rested them on her sweet spot.

"I'm going to make you squirt, slut," he said and began a gentle rub on her g-spot.

She could barely talk but she wanted whatever he wanted. She shut her eyes and held her breath. He bent down to lick her clitoris while he rubbed her g-spot. The pleasure was intense and spread out all over her body. She felt a strain in her nipples and a constriction in her throat. It took less than a minute to get her off. The release was like a shock. She arched, hunched, arched again and went silent but her thighs shook in her convulsion and the ripples in her vagina squeezed out dribbles of cum.

Ezra kept wanking her and she convulsed again, dribbling some more cum. Her bucking slowed until, with more vigorous wanking and a tight squeeze on her clitoris, he took her completely over the edge. A fountain squirted from her quivering pussy and she shrieked for joy. The pleasure drained her energy and made her lie still and silent.

Ezra looked at the resting girl, her chest heaving, her legs spread wantonly wide. He stroked her hair, to see if she would respond. She seemed to have blanked out but after a minute or two, she turned her head, took hold of his hand and kissed it. She smiled up at him and held his hand between her breasts.

"Are you ready for me?" he asked.

"Yes."

"It may hurt at first."

"I want it."

He lay on her and she raised her knees. It felt like lying on firm cushions. She was warm and moist and sensual. He put his mouth to hers and positioned his cock. He was hard and ready. His cock pressed against her slick entrance and he pushed in a short way. She gasped then held her breath. He didn't make her wait but pulled out a little and thrust back in hard. She screamed then stifled her scream, settling into a throaty moan that was more pleasure than pain as he pumped her to a steady rhythm.

Not wanting to prolong it for her, he was close after a couple of dozen thrusts. He began to ram her fast. She kept up her rhythm in response. Almost at his climax, he squeezed a nipple. She felt the sharp pleasure and raised her knees, her thighs shaking. Now it was his time. He groaned loudly as he made the final few thrusts, his breaths deep and heavy, as he sank deeply into her. The blank joy of orgasm overtook him and his cock pumped its juice into her.

Resting, he lay heavily on her and when he recovered he tried to kiss her but she had her turned her face to one side. When he turned her head up, he felt wet tears on her cheek.

"Why are you crying?"

She said nothing.

"Dagma, tell me why you're crying."

"I don't know."

"Are you sad?"

"No, I'm happy ... very happy. I just want to cry. ... I told you I'm not normal. Do you mind?"

"Not at all."

He kissed her and she wrapped her arms and legs around him and held tightly for a minute, while the feeling overcame her.

Next morning, when Ezra came out of Dagma's hut, a few of the women making breakfast winked and smiled at him but he signalled them not to make a fuss of Dagma. He needn't have worried. She came out of her hut beaming with pleasure and pride. The first thing she did was take Sharne away for a private chat. Afterward, she had an embarrassing but necessary talk with Mirselene. Then it was publicly announced that Dagma and Ezra were bedmates for the rest of the month.

Sharne had given her blessing to Dagma with joy. Annela approved because it was her idea. Now Ezra had to try and make it right with Dipti and, perhaps more so, with Urulla. After all, it was partly Dagma's fault that Urulla was injured and unable to be his bedmate this month. As for Dipti, she was so horny in her fourth month of pregnancy and so reluctant to give up her bedmate rights that it was only the recovery of Urulla that saved Ezra from disappointing a woman he would love not to disappoint.

As Urulla gained in strength, so her sex-drive (always very strong) returned. With her urges centred on Dipti for now, Urulla took the news surprisingly well, despite looking forward more than anyone to being bedmates with Ezra; but she knew that she couldn't cope with pregnancy in her weakened state and satisfied herself with wistful longing and Dipti's loving embraces. Ezra promised to do his sexual duty to her as soon as he returned from the Mariner Settlement; so even Urulla was happy for Dagma.

Starting that night at the Honeymoon Lodge and over the next three weeks, Ezra released Dagma's natural eroticism from its self-imposed prison. He treated her like a slut and she responded eagerly, begging to be used roughly. He pulled her around by the hair, spanked her, called her "bitch" and "whore" and pinned her down while he fucked her hard. He said "Suck my cock, slut!" and she immediately fell to her knees, sucking greedily, swallowing his cum without question. There was nothing she refused when he commanded her with confidence. As a submissive, she was totally uninhibited and insatiable.

Dagma squirted every time they had sex. Always when he fingered her; sometimes on his cock; and occasionally when he used his tongue. He loved it when she came hard, spraying her cum over her thighs, often blacking out as well, sometimes for ten minutes.

She complained only once. It was about two weeks after they became bedmates, as he lay on her, sucking her tits, he slipped a finger into her vagina to massage her g-spot. It didn't take him long to bring her to a first dripping convulsion. He continued fingering her, trying to get her off again but Dagma wanted something different. She closed her legs and twisted to one side.

"I've already come, Darling," she breathed. "Let me please you now."

This was encouraging. Kalyndra's submission was entirely natural but Ezra dominated Dagma only because it overcame her inhibitions. He didn't really enjoy calling any woman a "slut" and didn't want to perpetuate Dagma's mixed-up view of sex. He really wanted to make her think sex is clean and healthy.

She sucked his hard cock nicely, using her tongue well and humming in her throat. But she didn't suck him to the finish. She had been thinking of this for a time and emboldened herself enough to get him to lie back. She lowered herself onto his cock and began to swivel her hips in a sinuous figure-of-eight pattern. After a while, she became even bolder. She leant back saying "Please rub my clit, Darling."

He put two fingers into her mouth and she sucked on them. With nicely lubricated fingers, he began to gently toy with her clitoris. With a feather-light touch, he traced a pattern to the same rhythm as her gyrating pelvis. She moaned her pleasure and he rubbed harder. When she came, it was sweet and intense. She rode him to the end, thrusting with her strong thigh muscles and squirting again before he groaned, pumping his load into her.

From then on, Dagma was unafraid to ask Ezra for anything she wanted in sex, though she never stopped thinking of sex as dirty and still liked it when he called her "slut."

4Journey to the Mariner Settlement

Dagma and Ezra fucked every night until the day of the monthly trade-meeting with the Mariners.

Most of the Woodlanders went to the meeting. Annela insisted on going and had to agree not to carry a basket, but Lenta, Mirselene, Casti, Dipti and Urulla stayed behind. Pepi, maturing quickly, also went and made hardly any fuss about the long boring journey.

The trade-session was successful and fun. There were ten Mariners, including Ferne, Kalyndra's mother, and Calliope, Thalassa's mother, who hugged their daughters before being taken to meet Ezra. It had been a while since there were so many Woodlanders at a trade-meeting and old friendships were revived and gossip exchanged.

There were hugs all around when it came time to say good-bye, though the farewells were kept short at the insistence of Pepi, who was keen to get back and check on Jemima the calf, whose food and water was left in the amateur charge of Casti.

Dagma and Annela both cried when they kissed Ezra goodbye. The other women were more resilient. Then with promises from Kalyndra and Thalassa to come and visit the Woodlanders again, the two groups made their ways home.

It was a hot day with a relentless sun overhead in a cloudless cerulean bowl. As they ventured across the wide grassy plain down to the ocean, Ezra noticed that Kalyndra and Thalassa walked apart. They were friends in the forest camp and chatted together all the way to the meeting-place, but now there seemed to be an estrangement between them. The Mariners had split into two groups for the walk home, centred around Ferne and Calliope.

He didn't puzzle much about this but recalled his journey in the other direction about seven months ago, when Wildchild and Tamar had rescued him from the sea. Injured and exhausted, it had taken him two days to reach the forest from the sea. Here, a long way north, the plain was not so wide but the shadeless heat was just as oppressive.

Wildchild and Tamar had saved his life and introduced him to the Woodlanders, thus starting this sexual adventure. He thought about the girls now and, despite knowing how hardy and resourceful they were, indulged in a few moments' concern.

5The adventurers reach the mining valley

On their trek to find the Miners, the girls took five days to cross the dry plain. Lack of water was a problem on the high plateau because the clouds disgorged themselves onto the foothills. The little night-rain that fell landed as large fluffy snow-flakes. When the girls woke to find their tent speckled with a dusting of snow, they squeezed the flakes together and dribbled them into their mouths or into their water sacks. The next night, they spread their cloaks on the ground and, this way, captured enough moisture to last a day on the barren highland.

For the two days it took to climb to the high-point in the middle of the plain, the valley of their destination was hidden from view. It was a hard slog but the direction was clear from the outline of the mountains; and their spirits rose when they glimpsed the valley again from the highest point of the plain. Fed by a river, which turned the nearby hills green, the valley was beckoning like an oasis, though it was still three days hiking away.




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 08



Parched and hungry, they none the less easily managed the next two days. It was downhill and their goal lay straight ahead. The girls rose early on the final morning, buoyed by the prospect of leaving the dry tundra and drinking from the cooling stream. They saw black specks circling in the sky over the valley - eagles for sure, and proof they would find animal life there.

The girls stopped talking and picked up the pace. They could smell the vegetation long before their feet touched the small outlying clumps of grass. When the tussock grass gave way to a lush meadow, they began running.

As they sprinted toward the shimmering river, there was a jostling in the verdure around them. Hundreds of small animals escaped out of their way. The girls didn't stop to identify them as birds, lizards or whatnot but leapt and skipped through the meadow, barely taking time to drop their back-packs and strew their clothes onto the grassy bank before jumping into the shallow stream to wash off the grime and dust of their journey, dunking their baking heads in the cold fresh water.

Sitting naked on the muddy bed of the river, they splashed for joy. Around them swam large brown fish: hungry trout, nonchalantly grazing the girls' legs as they gobbled at insects on the surface. Tamar was the first to try grabbing one of the fish but it wriggled free. She lunged after another but it also escaped. Carlin took up the chase and the girls laughed as they flailed around in an energetic but forlorn quest for a piscine dinner.

Wildchild decided to try a different method. She climbed onto the bank to fetch an arrow, which she plunged into the water like a spear. She had no more success than the others, however, and soon the river turned muddy brown from the girls' frenetic efforts.

Then Wildchild stood still. She had noticed what the movement in the long grass had been. Small brown and white animals with bulbous eyes and long floppy ears were cautiously appearing out of the tussocks and gathering to feed on the sweet soft grass of the meadow. Wildchild recognised them as rabbits and meant to eat one or two of them roasted for dinner that night. She didn't know they were descendents of children's pets that, alone of all mammals, had avoided the sterilising x-ray storm by living in caves.

Wildchild climbed out of the river and crept carefully toward her bow and arrows. Carlin saw her leave and followed, crawling silently on her belly. The girls reached their bows, attached the strings and tied their quivers onto their backs. Naked as the legendary Amazons, they went to hunt feral bunny rabbits.

Tamar stayed in the river, waiting for the obscuring mud to flow away. She planned to be more patient, taking a position a few feet from the bank and crouching down with her arms under water, her hands flat on the river-bed, palms upward. She waited for the fish to come near. One did so, seeking the protection of her shadow.

Tamar was too sudden. She tried to throw the trout out of the river but she didn't make good enough contact and the fish hit the bank, wriggled a few times and fell back in.

Tamar bent down again and was more patient. Her back was hot from the sun while her arms and legs were turning blue from the cold water; yet she endured. Sure enough, another trout sought the shelter of her shadow and this time Tamar waited for it to swim directly over her hands. She bent her fingers up in preparation of throwing the fish and accidentally touched the fish on the bottom of its belly.

She expected the trout to swim away but, amazingly, it stayed put. She touched it gently on the underside with her other hand and it actually moved backward over her fingers. By accident, Tamar had rediscovered trout-tickling. Now she gently tickled the trout until it was directly over her hands and, in one swift movement, stood up while raising her hands and threw the trout far enough onto the river bank that it couldn't wriggle back.

With a shout of triumph she clambered out of the river to claim her prize. There she found Wildchild and Carlin, grinning in satisfaction of their own hunting expedition. They each had a rabbit skewered on an arrow, slung nonchalantly over their shoulders.

Wildchild gutted the rabbits and trout by the river-side and washed them while Tamar plucked long tussock grass to wrap the food and store it in the empty swag bags. Dried in the sun and dressed again, the girls carried on their quest, happy to know that there was plentiful food to sustain them.

As they gathered up their packs, a swift movement over the river caught their attention and they turned to see an osprey dive low over the shallow river to snatch up a trout that had carelessly stayed too long near the surface. The fish was almost as heavy as the bird but she beat her powerful wings and turned her catch so it was streamlined facing the way she was flying and carried it to her nest.

The girls admired their skilled fellow hunter as she disappeared into the shadowy crevices of the looming cliffs. Then they continued on their quest, plodding upstream in search of the Miners.

The cliff-edges of the valley were pock-marked with holes too neat and regular to be natural. The nearest cave was empty but it was certainly evidence of the mining works they were looking for. A little way inside, a heap of fallen rocks prevented further passage. The next mine was the same. As they wandered up the valley, visiting each mine on the south side of the river, they found all were sealed a few yards inside by piles of rocks - doubtless a safety measure of the Miners when they finished digging.

They found no other sign of the Miners on the first day, though the valley was ideal for a settlement. As they explored, the girls picked up any dead branches that had fallen from the trees bravely clinging to crevices in the steep cliffs. They stopped exploring before evening and decided to spend the night in the last cave they visited. They left their backpacks and went to find straw and twigs to use as kindling. They also dug some tubers that could be roasted in the juices of the rabbits.

Wildchild made sparks by smashing the heel of her knife into a piece of flint and soon got a fire going. The fish was ready first. It was delicious. They also ate one of the rabbits but left the other for tomorrow's breakfast.

Next morning, the girls headed upstream into the mountains. All the caves they saw were closed off but they started to find abandoned machinery: small pieces at first, such as drill-bits and wedges, then larger apparatus designed to crush rocks or sieve gravel.

Toward the end of a fruitless day searching, Tamar showed the older girls how to tickle trout but they were all unsuccessful, so the archers took their bows and Tamar took her sling-shot and they went after the rabbits. Both the archers were successful and shot another dinner and breakfast.

Next morning they explored more empty caves. Leaving their packs in the last cave, they spent the afternoon hunting and fishing. The archers were unsuccessful this time. Unless they bunched together, the rabbits were hard to kill and Wildchild got angry. She growled in frustration but when Carlin came up to offer comfort, Wildchild snapped at her and ran away.

Carlin had never seen Wildchild lose her temper before. It frightened her and she didn't try to follow. An hour or so later, Tamar came back with a small trout. She found Carlin sitting disconsolately on a rock. When Carlin told her story, Tamar said:

"Leave her alone. She may snarl but she never hurts anyone. Don't worry, she'll be back tomorrow as if nothing happened."

"I only wanted to show I cared," Carlin whispered.

"She doesn't like that."

Tamar dismissed the problem with an elegant little shrug and gave her attention to a more immediate problem. She held up her fish.

"Can you light the fire?"

"No, Wildchild's got the flint."

"Have we got any other food?"

"Some raw tubers," Carlin said. "Can we eat the grass?"

"I tried. It's horrible."

"So, raw tubers and water for dinner. Yum!"

The girls settled down in a cave, raised the tent and, after munching on their meagre fare, rinsed their mouths and went to bed early, sharing the sleeping bag. Tamar chattered aimlessly until after it was too dark to see and then they slept.

Wildchild had climbed the valley to the mountain-peak. She reached the top in a couple of hours and took a look around. She saw the plain they had trekked across bounded by the ocean on the west. To the south, the large volcano they had climbed dominated the view, framed by the grey forest on the horizon. Eastward, the mountain range spread out, all white snow and brown mud, peak after unending peak, ultimately obscured by mist. Northward were four more valleys. Verdant and lush, fed by rivers from the snow-capped peak, the five valleys looked like the fingers of a hand pressed into a bed of moss.

She climbed back down and spent the night in the first cave she found.

Next morning, as the girls emerged from their tent, yawning and hungry, they saw a smiling Wildchild, a rabbit skewered on an arrow slung over her shoulder, her arms full of branches, ready to build the fire.

As they ate the roast bunny and the small trout, she told them about the other four valleys they had to explore. It was likely they would be seeking the Miners for a long time yet.

Brave and undaunted, they explored the final few caves on the south side of the valley, crossed the stream at a narrow point and began to investigate the north side, though with little hope. If the valley were inhabited, then they would certainly have been seen by somebody. Sure enough, all the mines were blocked off by collapsed roofs and none had signs of habitation. That is, until the morning of the next day, when they got to the bottom of the valley. There was temporary excitement because a cave had been lived in, though no one was there now.

When they reached the next valley northward late that afternoon, the first cave they saw had also been inhabited but was now empty. It seemed the Miners lived in the first cave they excavated and worked the other caves.

The third and fourth valleys followed the same pattern, with a cave that was inhabited and others that were mines. If the remnants of the Miners were in these mountains, then it would be in the last and furthest of the valleys. If the fifth valley also failed them, then there was a mountain-range stretching for hundreds of miles to explore, but no clear indication where habitable valleys or mineable hills might be found. The alternative would be to begin the long trek back, knowing they had failed.

With their usual courage and Tamar's buoyant optimism, but with little real hope, the girls trudged around the tip of the fifth 'finger' and worked their way uphill into the final valley.

6Kalyndra and Thalassa return to the Mariners

It was mid-afternoon when the trading party arrived back in the Mariner Settlement.

The settlement was an oblong of fifteen wooden huts in good condition about one-hundred yards from the beach, nearby the wide muddy estuary of a shallow river. Inside the ring of huts was an open space with a camp-fire on one side. Dusty foot-paths ran down to the camp and the ever-moving dunes wrapped the feet of the huts in a sandy blanket. The air above the camp shimmered with a heat-haze; but, at ground level, a cool salty breeze wafted in from the milky-blue ocean.

There was noise and bustle as they trooped into the camp. Women and children ran out to greet them, eager to welcome back their friends and gaze in innocent wonder at Ezra. He was well used to meeting curious women who kept their distance from him. Even the children, boisterous by nature, held shyly back, clinging to their mothers' skirts.

In the ring of huts opposite the camp fire was a beached fishing-boat. The Mariner chief, Belena, lived here and was on the look-out for the perfect moment to make her entrance. Emerging from her boat-house into the square, Belena greeted Ezra with open arms:

"Welcome to our home, Ezra. All the comforts of the Mariners are yours. Please ask for anything you want. Did you have a good journey?"

"Yes, Madam. Thank you."

"And how is young Urulla?"

"She has made a strong recovery. Also, she has forgiven Kalyndra."

"I am gratified to hear it. Is Mirselene in good health?"

"She is and sends her greetings."

Belena motioned forward a curvy brunette woman.

"Salema will show you where you'll stay. Join us for dinner when you're ready."

Salema was middle-height with nut-brown skin, long curly dark hair with sun-bleached highlights, a clear complexion (except for some freckles) and sparkling hazel eyes. As the women safely stored the perishable trade-goods under awnings, Salema beckoned Ezra to follow her to a nearby hut. She pushed aside the cloth door-hanging and walked inside. The hut had a high sloped roof, a large wooden bed, a low table with a bucket of water and a tall cabinet with some cloth towels, sponges and a comb. He dropped his bag beside the bed.

"I hope you'll be comfortable here," Salema said. "Don't wait to ask me if there's anything at all I can do for you."

She gave him a smile that couldn't have been more lascivious if she'd practised it for a year.

"I'm sure I'll be very comfortable," he replied and thought to himself: "So, that's how it's going to be!"

He freshened up with the clean water and then joined the tribe at a long bench under an awning near the fishing-boat. Belena sat at the head of the table.

"Come and meet us all," she said and introduced him to six matrons, eight fertile women (including Thalassa, now she was eighteen) and four girls, aged three to fourteen. Two women were missing: Belena's daughter, Gerta, was currently at the Cloner City, bearing a daughter, accompanied by a matron, Salema's mother, Helen.

Ezra didn't try hard to remember any names. He would acquaint himself with his new friends over the next few days, but he recognised the four women he'd met in the forest, the youngest and prettiest of whom was the twenty-year-old Cressi. He also noticed that Salema was the mother of the three-year-old girl, Della. Belena sat Ezra down on her right.

Thalassa sat at Belena's left, elevated to this special status as a belated birthday honour. Encouraged to tell how she celebrated her birthday, she described the feast, the dancing and her magnificent birthday present. Of course, she had to fetch the medicine chest to show it off, earning coos of admiration. Also, of course, now dancing had been mentioned, Ezra had to promise to dance with all the women. Bowing to the inevitable, he agreed graciously.

So began a joyful repast that featured grilled fish and nicely roasted vegetables that the Mariners bought from the Farmers at prices the Woodlanders could rarely afford. It was good food and Ezra ate with his usual enthusiasm, bordering on greed.

Perhaps it was the good dinner or her warm welcome back to Kalyndra and Thalassa, but Ezra was charmed by Belena, who made sure everyone had enough food and were part of the conversation. He particularly admired her kindness to Thalassa and her obvious delight in the two youngest children, whom she lifted by turn onto her lap and fed the tastiest morsels. It seemed to him that the Mariners were just as benevolent as the Woodlanders.

With dinner finished, it was only an hour or so before the night rain would hit the beach. This was nearly two hours before the rain reached the forest, so the Mariners would already be bedded down while the Woodlanders were still feasting.

As Ezra might have predicted, the Mariners devoted this hour to grilling him on anything they could possibly want to know about being the only man on a planet full of women. He answered honestly and resisted only questions that offended the privacy of his bedmates. It was an exciting revelation that Kalyndra and he were already bedmates but he skirted the question of how it had come about.

Once the question of bedmates was raised, an expectant hush followed and all faces turned to Belena for her judgment. She addressed him:

"Ezra, you are our guest and whom you take as a bedmate is your choice but will you agree to be guided by me in consideration of what is best for the tribe?"

"Of course, Belena."

"Good, then I'm leaving all decisions until tomorrow. You can rest tonight."

There were sighs of disappointment around the table, which she ignored.

"Tomorrow, we'll have a swimming contest, so my women can show off their skills. Then we'll have lunch on the beach."

The children were excited by this and there was a buzz around the table among the adults, who seemed to be split into two factions, those who said Kalyndra would win the contest and those who said a woman called Devon would win.

Sent by Mirselene to be her eyes and ears in the Mariner tribe, Ezra's first thought was that the Mariners were less worried than the Woodlanders about the dangers of jealousy and factionalism. Also, cautioned to watch Calliope's reactions carefully, he saw only a doting love for her daughter; and if he missed the fear for Thalassa's safety that Mirselene had witnessed, he also saw little relief at Thalassa's safe return. This was something to puzzle over.

The discussion didn't last long. The cold wind from the sea had picked up. Now rising clouds and a darkening sky meant it would soon be time to pack up the meal and disperse to the huts; but the women wouldn't let the day finish until Ezra had made good his promise to dance. A whisper circulated the table, then someone began clapping out a rhythm which was soon joined by others tapping their spoons on their bowls. A tune was hummed and a nudge given to Thalassa, who asserted her birthday privilege again and led Ezra onto the patch of ground by the table.

He took the thin elegant girl with the beautiful smiling face and the long chestnut hair in his arms and began to swing her around. The Mariners got up for a better view and formed a ring around the couple. They applauded every time he span Thalassa and were delighted with the performance, which couldn't last long. Distant thunderclaps over the ocean and the first drops of night rain signalled the evening was over. Ezra kissed Thalassa on the forehead then they helped clear dinner away.

In bed, Ezra tried to recall which of the women he had met was Devon. Then he remembered. She was a demure brunette, an athlete in her early twenties. Ordinary-looking with heavy eye-lids and a slightly sad demeanour. She seemed to be friends with Thalassa and Calliope.

Ezra was happy to spend the first night alone. He was beginning to crave an occasional relief from constant shagging (so long as the relief did not endure too long). His bed was comfortable and he quickly fell into a dreamless sleep.

***

Next morning, Kalyndra fetched him from his hut to show him around.

Many of the Mariners were already up, doing their chores, building the camp-fire for a new day, laying out the rain-scoured cooking pots or setting up long wooden spits from which some of the day's catch would be hung to be smoked or grilled.

Out of the camp toward the beach, on a flat surface, were a dozen large leather sheets, pegged to the ground. Some women were ferrying buckets of water from the sea and pouring their contents onto the sheets. These were salt-makers. They would return to the task many times during the day to refresh the water as it evaporated, leaving the salt to crystallize on the sheets. From there it would be collected into leather pouches or used to salt the fish.

There were no crops or domestic animals but fish were plentiful, dried in baskets in the porches of the huts or hanging from strings under the awnings. The smell of fish was omnipresent, except when the salty breeze wafted in from the ocean.




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 08



They waded the shallow river to the crapper on a sandy bank on the far side. From there they walked down to the beach, past rafts tied to wooden posts sunk into the mud of the estuary. Other rafts were dragged up onto the beach. All the rafts had baskets and poles or paddles stowed between the baskets. The Mariners paddled the rafts into the bay to fish or to dive for sponges and oysters.

The beach stretched for a mile in a shallow crescent, with two spits of sand-banks on either side, one of which sheltered the muddy estuary to the right, the other started from a line of rocks at the southern end of the bay. The rocks tumbled drunkenly into the sea, forming a line of sand-banks that stretched toward a large sandy island with an untidy toupee of palm trees. Between the shore and the island, spaced every few hundred yards, were more bamboo rafts anchored to the sea-bottom.

They sat silently, gazing at the ocean. Kalyndra has been very subdued and unusually silent ever since they'd left the trading place. He was about to ask her what was wrong when she got up, saying it was time for breakfast. They returned to share a meal of dried fish and vegetables with the whole tribe.

After breakfast, Belena showed Ezra her boat. About fifty feet long, it was sunk part-way into the sand and supported on its sides by wooden beams. The hull was breached by a huge rent that had been further opened to make an entrance and sleeved by wooden rails with a tarpaulin roof, it was warm and dry inside. The boat's engine was still inside but someone had removed all the electronic equipment. The bed and seats were still good. By Samothean standards, this was a comfortable and prestigious home, which Belena had to herself.

Kalyndra's mother, Ferne, a tall grey-haired woman who wore a cloth shawl over her leather skirt and jacket, announced they were ready for the day's events, so Belena led the tribe down to the beach. They carried food, water, seats and tent roofs to keep off the sun.

The women who planned to compete in the swimming contests stripped naked and ran on the beach or stretched to warm up. There were nine of them, all the fertile adults and Odette, an adolescent. The other women set up the seats and tables and began to prepare food. The children were sent off to play on the beach or splash in the shallows.

Ezra helped erect the large tent roofs and then sat on a wooden chair in the shade. He took a good look around. The golden beach was about fifty yards deep and fell at a shallow angle into the sea, which waved and shimmered in the morning sun. They were half-way between the estuary on the right and the rocky cliff on the left. The island was directly ahead with the line of rafts slightly to the right.

Ferne, who seemed to be second-in-command of the tribe and today was in charge of the meal, finished her preparations and came to sit next to Ezra. Kalyndra had spent last night in her mother's hut and Ezra was sure the older woman knew everything about what he and her daughter had done together. He was prepared for an embarrassing interview, but she only smiled graciously at him.

"How did you sleep, Ezra?"

"Very well, thank you, Ferne."

"I'm glad you and Kalyndra are bedmates."

"So am I," he said, smiling.

She gave him a searching look. Her eyes were black like Kalyndra's and had the same sparkle, but hers were amused where Kalyndra's were sensual. Her magnificent hair was grey and she was bowed a little in the shoulders, so she didn't quite reach her daughter's height any more; but she had been strong once and now was wise.

"Do you find us Mariners attractive?"

"Very much so." The question surprised him. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I noticed you avert your eyes from the swimmers when they stripped."

Ezra chuckled in admission.

"It's an Earth habit I don't seem able to shake."

"Well, they're doing a lot more stretching and bending over than they really need, so I don't see why you shouldn't enjoy the show. It's for your benefit."

Ezra had to agree and took in the delightful view. Devon had strong shapely legs over a thin swimmer's body with a muscular stomach and wide shoulders. She alone didn't seem to be showing off but stretched sitting on the sand with her back to him. The others were certainly showing off. The pretty blonde Cressi had cute small tits to match her cute small bottom. Three middle-aged women, Leanne, Elinor and Salema, had voluptuous hour-glass figures and, though he knew Kalyndra's body inside and out, she was still breath-taking.

As for Thalassa: he'd seen her naked before when she bathed in the Woodlander camp. She had a tight thin waist with prominent ribs and pelvic bones. Such a skinny girl might be physically attractive to other women but Ezra always encouraged her to eat more.

"I've forgotten some of their names," he confessed to Ferne.

"Well, in age, they are Althea, she's thirty-nine. Then Leanne, Elinor, Salema. There's three years between each of them. Then my Kalyndra: you know how old she is?"

"Yes, twenty-eight."

"Right. Next in age are Devon, Cressi, Thalassa and Odette. Odette is only fourteen. As you can see, she's Althea's daughter."

"And which others have children?"

"Leanne, Elinor and Salema. Their girls (Juniel, May and Della) are playing in the sand over there."

"I see. So how old is Belena's daughter?"

"Gerta is twenty-five."

He noticed an oddity and paused. He had a delicate question to ask about Kalyndra but, just then, Belena announced the start of the events, claiming everyone's attention. There were to be five contests. The first was a swimming race to the nearest raft.

As the women took their places at the start line, Ferne told him the favourites were Kalyndra and Devon. Salema and Elinor were good at long-distance. Leanne was a good all-rounder. Cressi had been steadily improving and Thalassa was also a good swimmer. The older women with experience might make up for their lack of speed in some events. Odette was taking part mainly for practise.

It was a running start from the line halfway up the beach. Belena shouted "Go!" and nine naked women ran down to the sea and dived in. They all swam breast-stroke. It was a close finish: Devon won by two lengths over Kalyndra, who was out of practise. Cressi came third and Elinor, Salema and Thalassa were tied in fourth place.

Next the women had to dive from the raft to the sea-floor to retrieve a selection of coloured stones. Devon won again. The third contest was holding breath underwater. Kalyndra won this, staying submerged nearly a minute longer than anyone else. The fourth contest was to swim as far as possible underwater toward the next raft. Kalyndra clearly had a natural talent for holding her breath. She came first, Devon was second, Cressi third. Elinor, Salema and Thalassa again vied for fourth place.

The women came back to the beach to rest before the final event, a long-distance race to the island. This would decide the contest, Kalyndra's lack of practise seemed to favour Devon. Ferne, who had given Ezra a running commentary on the whole contest, was on the edge of her seat, completely engrossed in her daughter's competition.

While the women stretched or rested, Belena came over to speak to Ezra:

"Can you swim?" she asked.

"Yes, Madam."

"Then I have a challenge for you. Take part in the final race and, if you win, then I will let you choose your own bedmates. If you lose, then I will choose them for you."

Belena was very confident; more so when Ezra hesitated, which he did because, though he was a capable swimmer, he was not sure he could beat Devon or Kalyndra, who were expert and very swift. Yet he was naturally brave and didn't care who chose his bedmates.

Ezra stripped down to his shorts and stretched for a few minutes before joining the competitors on the start-line. Some of the matrons also stripped off and joined the race.

The island was half-a-mile across the bay. It would be sensible to follow the line of fishing rafts, in case anyone got cramp or needed a rest.

Belena shouted "Go" again and, this time, fourteen women and one man ran down to the sea, some yelling for joy, the more serious saving their breath for a hard swim. They all waded in amid noisy splashes, some trying to swim too early, others lifting their legs high trying to run further into the surf than they needed, wasting precious seconds.

Devon and Kalyndra had already dived in but Ezra took a few more steps before he judged it deep enough for him to try swimming as well. He did a belly flop, put his head down and kicked hard while pulling strongly with his arms. Snagging at first on the sand, he kicked hard again and soon was buoyant and making good progress, turning his head to breathe every two strokes until he had established a rhythm, when he reduced to a breath every three strokes.

Not wanting to waste time looking to see how far behind the leaders he was, he concentrated on keeping his rhythm and breathing. His strokes were slower now and he kicked only twice for every arm pull. He knew he could easily keep up front crawl at this pace all the way, despite being so much out of practise.

Ploughing on, he looked up only to check he was going in the right direction, parallel to the line of rafts. He thought it odd there was no one directly beside him but thought perhaps they were taking a different line, knowing more about the currents than he.

With the fourth raft just ahead, he was half-way to the island. It was a good place to take a rest and see where his competitors were. He trod water and looked up. There was no one in front of him at all. Turning around, he saw a flock of bobbing heads far behind. As far as he could tell, they all swam breast-stroke.

It came as a revelation to him that none of the Mariners knew front crawl. Here was something valuable he could teach them. Ezra marvelled at how his luck had held for so long, giving him many easy victories. After catching his breath, he struck out for the island and was resting in the shade of a palm tree when the first of the Mariners arrived.

It was Devon, followed shortly by Kalyndra, then Cressi, Salema and Thalassa. The rest arrived in a bunch. They all had the same thing to say: Ezra was mobbed by fourteen naked women amazed at front crawl, demanding he teach them the stroke. He was happy to do so, of course, and promised to give them all lessons.

Thus agreed, they swam slowly back to the shore to be greeted by a big lunch, set out and ready for the exhausted swimmers. The important matter of explaining front-crawl dominated the meal but, after lunch, a different important matter became pressing. Belena announced her challenge to Ezra, triggering an animated discussion, which died down only when she spoke again:

"Well, Ezra, I'm impressed with your swimming. You've won the right to choose your bedmates. So, whom do you choose?"

"Madam," he replied, "you know Kalyndra has already been my bedmate. Do you object if we remain bedmates?"

"Of course I don't object! She can do whatever she wants. So can any of my women, who are of age."

Here was an interesting difference between the Woodlanders and the Mariners. Mirselene was petrified of jealousy and at first strictly licensed Ezra's bedmates; but she would never dream of calling the Woodlanders "my women".

"For the four weeks of my stay," Ezra said, "I choose Kalyndra and the first three competitors to finish: Devon, Cressi and Salema, in the order they finished."

"Very well. ... Devon, if you want to, you are with Ezra this week."

There was cheering from some in the crowd and Devon's friends congratulated her but the girl herself remained indifferent. True to his task, Ezra glanced at Calliope's reaction. He could have chosen Thalassa, who came fourth, so he thought it was odd that Calliope looked more concerned, not less.

The tribe had a lazy afternoon at the beach, sunning themselves and running into the sea when they got too hot. Ezra was not used to direct sunlight and didn't much care for the heat, so he sat under a tent roof and chatted to Belena and Ferne. Kalyndra sat nearby, getting up every so often to offer them fresh water. Again, he got the sense of two factions: the group he was presently with and another group centred around Calliope, who sat beside the oldest Mariner, Yolande, Elinor's mother, and Philippa, Devon's mother. Their daughters, Elinor, Devon and Thalassa, lay in the sun nearby.

It was a lovely day. Waves lapped at the beach and the soft wind blew dusty sand over their feet, but small white clouds began to gather on the horizon as the shadows lengthened. In the late afternoon, they packed up to go home. There were some chores to perform before the night rain arrived: bringing in the dried fish, collecting up the salt and building up the permanent fire in the stove so it would last the night.

Kalyndra fetched a bucket of clean water to take into Ezra's hut. He followed her inside to talk to her.

"Kali," he said, "can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"You know why I asked Belena if we can be bedmates?"

"Yes, but we're not jealous like the Woodlanders. You can have any of us, any time you want."

"So I see. I just thought Belena might want me to try with women I've not been with yet. After all, you might already be pregnant."

"I'm not."

"I'm sorry. Well, maybe we'll be lucky this month."

"We won't be. ... Ezra, I know I should have told you but the subject never came up. ... I can't have children."

She said it so matter-of-factly that it seemed she felt nothing but he was sure it was the opposite. He sat her on the bed and put his arm around her.

"How do you know?" he asked. "Just because we've failed together? What if you went to the Cloner City?"

"I've been to the Cloner City."

"You have?"

"Yes, a year ago."

"What happened?"

"They tried and it didn't work. It doesn't always work but you only get one chance."

"Please tell me everything."

She paused for a while to keep her feelings steady. She had no right, she thought, to burden him with her problems.

"You know the Cloners have Cloning Kits?"

"So I've been told. They were for some domestic animal or other but now they're used for people."

"Well, the kits have testers, lots of chemicals, plastic jars and an applicator. They started off a few weeks before my period, taking a tiny piece of skin from one of my nipples. When it was nearly a week before my period, they took blood tests: one a day, until it was the right time, when they used the applicator on me. It squirted something inside me, then I was told to wait but nothing happened. I had my period, as usual."

"So why didn't they try again?"

"They said, because there are a limited number of kits."

"I'm so sorry Kali, but maybe we'll have better luck together."

"I don't think so. We've been bedmates two months already."

"Don't be disheartened," he said, getting up. "My other bedmates have been very lucky. I'm confident we'll be lucky together as well - and nothing will ever stop us trying."

She smiled for his sake, saying:

"I really don't mind. I'm not one of those women who must have a child."

"But you don't not want children?"

She parsed the sentence and smiled.

"Yes, I would like a child."

"Good. And you have answered one of my puzzles about the Mariners."

"What puzzle?"

"Why is it that Gerta, who is younger than you, is at the Cloner City? I thought it might be preferential treatment by Belena for her own daughter."

Kalyndra was shocked.

"Using cloning for preferential treatment? No, Belena would never do anything like that! No one would. I don't think the Cloners would allow it. No tribe would send a younger woman to the Cloner City if there is an older one to go first. Why did you think that, Ezra?"

Ezra had forgotten that Kalyndra didn't know of Mirselene's suspicions regarding the Mariners.

"I'm sorry, it was a stupid assumption. I forget how ignorant of Samothean customs I still am."

They let the matter rest and, as it was almost time for the night rain, went to say goodnight to everyone. Most of the women were milling around the camp-fire, chatting about the events of the day. He looked around for Devon. She hadn't spoken to him since before lunchtime, when he chose her as his first bedmate. He didn't know if she accepted him or not. She wasn't there.

Belena called to Ezra from across the camp-fire, reminding him to give the whole tribe swimming lessons the next morning. Then she went to bed, which was the cue to the others also to turn in. Ezra took a last look for Devon but couldn't see her. He did see Calliope looking at him and smiled to her. She smiled thinly back and turned away.

In his hut, Ezra washed, cleaned his teeth and stripped. As he felt his way to the bed, he heard the cloth curtain over the door swish open. Devon stepped inside. She carried a long lighted taper that she stuck into the ground near the door. Then she turned to face him. She'd been to bathe in the river and put her short leather skirt and jacket back on while she was still wet. The thin light of the taper reflected off her dripping hair and damp thighs, picking out her curves as she stood, arms at her sides. Her sad face was framed by long straight brown hair that faded into the shadows.

Ezra had thought Devon was the most demure woman he'd ever met, more so than any of the shy Woodlanders. He hadn't been sure she even wanted to be his bedmate; yet here she was, gazing at his naked body, biting her lower lip.

"Hello, Devon."

"Hello."

"Would you like to talk..."

He didn't finish the question because she took a forceful step and jumped onto him, holding on tightly to his shoulders, wrapping her strong legs around his waist, planting her mouth on his.

She kissed well, full of lust, turning her mouth until she found the angle she liked best, then using her tongue, running her fingers through his hair. He put his hands under her skirt to help hold her up.

They kissed like this, getting a taste for each other, getting turned on. His cock was soon hard and pressed against her buttocks. She began to buck her pelvis, rubbing her naked pussy against his stomach.

He turned and made to lay her down on the bed but she pulled her mouth away to say "Not like this."

She wanted him to stay standing. They kissed again. She rubbed her pussy up and down his belly, using him to build her arousal, until she was ready.

She reached down, grabbed his cock and angled it upward, pulling away with her pelvis, ready to launch. This time he broke the kiss to whisper in her ear:

"It may hurt."

"It won't," she said, and pushed herself onto him, enveloping his cock in a swift sure movement. She was tight but soaked and he slipped all the way in. She felt his heavy hot breath as she pumped herself against him with her strong thighs.

She had amazing stamina, thrusting hard, doing all the work. He wanted to help, to slow her down and last longer, but she kept up her rhythm. So he stood there, legs apart, a hot girl clinging to him, bucking her pelvis, her tight pussy massaging his stiff cock, not sure if he was fucking or getting fucked, but quickly rising to a climax.

She moaned quietly in her throat, her head back, her eyes shut. Ezra was sweating, the sweet rub on his cock building him up.

She lent back to increase the angle and now he helped, steadying her with strong arms under her back. She pumped the last dozen thrusts that brought him over the edge. He groaned and shook, splurging his cum into her, gripping her tightly until the spasm passed.

He tried to lie her down on the bed. He didn't know if she had cum and was going to play with her clitoris, to bring her off, but she resisted again. For some reason, she wouldn't have him lie on her. Instead, she got him to sit on the edge of the bed and sat facing him on his lap, his cock still in her pussy.




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 08



There was no after-play but she clung to him until she was rested, when she got up, stripped off her clothes and wiped away the cum that had leaked down her thigh. She rinsed her hands in the bucket, snuffed the taper and climbed into the bed. She had barely spoken to him. It was clear she wanted sex in exactly her own way and none other; but she was happy to snuggle against him for warmth, turning so he could hold her.

With so silent a lover, he didn't want to say too much, but he had to say something.

"You were wonderful, Darling," he said.

"Mmm. Good night, Ezra Goldrick," she replied, and wriggled her back against him, holding his arm to her chest.

A few hours later, while Ezra was sleeping, Devon snuck out of bed, carefully trying not to wake him. She left the hut via a couple of loose panels in the rear wall. It was bad luck for her that Ezra woke up just as she left the bed. He also noticed when she returned an hour or so later and got back into bed; but he said nothing, assuming it was none of his business.

Next day, when the morning chores were done, Ezra gave swimming lessons to most of the tribe. He started them off lying on the sand, doing the front-crawl motion, co-ordinating their arms and legs. Then he took them into the sea, supporting each woman in turn under her waist while she practised the stroke.

Holding naked women in his arms had the usual biological effect and he stayed in the deep water long after the girls were off swimming, watching their progress, waiting for his erection to die down.

Most of the women had made a good start. Devon was just as good as he expected but Cressi was the best: a true natural. He released her after a few minute's practise and she darted off at a good speed, perfectly co-ordinated. Kalyndra was an unexpected failure, however. She kicked well but couldn't maintain more than a few strokes at a time, flailing around for a second before plunging in again for another few strokes. She couldn't keep up with Devon. Cressi swam rings around her.

To end the lesson, Ezra told the women he would race them to the shore. It was only fifty feet away and he won easily. Cressi was second and Devon third but Kalyndra was a good way behind the leaders. Even Thalassa beat her.

As they walked up the beach (Cressi glowing with a victor's self-reward) he witnessed more of the rivalry between the two factions and their champions. There was some banter about who was best at front-crawl and someone asked Kalyndra:

"How come Thalassa beat you? She's only a stripling."

"Shush!" said Thalassa, embarrassed to be the object of someone else's jibe; but Devon was clearly not one to consider another woman's feelings.

"It's no mystery," she said. "Kalyndra's tits are too big. They drag her back."

All the women laughed at this, including Kalyndra herself, though Ezra was sure she didn't really enjoy the joke.

That afternoon, Ezra was taken fishing. He joined Beatrice, a blonde matron, mother of Cressi, and two fit young mothers, Leanne and Salema, on a raft. They paddled out into the bay where they let down lines with lures (shiny slivers of oyster shell) and fish-bone hooks, weighted with stones, and when they pulled them up a few minutes later, dozens of fish were attached. They didn't even need to bait the hooks: the over-crowded fish were so hungry they would snap at anything that shimmered.

On the way back, they paddled near the sand-banks and saw two women diving for sponges and oysters. They were Devon and Thalassa. Here was more information to absorb. It seemed the sponge-divers were of Calliope's faction.

That night, Ezra learned some more about Devon's sexual preferences. She was happy to go on top but wouldn't lie on her back beneath him or allow him to stuff her from the side of the bed, either standing or kneeling. She wouldn't allow doggy-style; but she would ride him cow-girl style and even reverse cow-girl (which is almost doggy-style). It was a bit of a mystery and he tried to figure it out. His guess was that Devon wanted to do most of the work and also she wanted to control the angle of penetration. This led to a second mystery: How did she know so much about fucking a cock? Also, why was neither Devon nor Kalyndra a virgin (at least in regard to men)? Most of the Woodlanders had been intact virgins.

Of course, he might have simply asked Devon, but the girl was an odd mixture of demure shyness, uninhibited sexuality and, occasionally, a very sharp tongue. He wanted more information. A third mystery was where she went at night when she thought he was asleep.

Devon snuck out again that night and he pretended to sleep when she returned and snuggled cosily against him. In the morning, he saw the loose panel was not quite slotted in properly. When he was alone, he re-attached it but again said nothing.

Swimming lessons after morning chores quickly became the routine and he concentrated on those who struggled with the new stroke, which would have included Kalyndra but she wasn't there for a second day, though he waited for her until lunchtime.

For his afternoon chore, Ezra helped the fishermen heave up lobster-pots filled with blue crustaceans from the sea-floor. He saw Kalyndra at dinner but didn't want to ask her publicly why she hadn't come to the swimming lesson.

Sex with Devon that night was energetic and even beautiful, in a mechanical kind of way. She went on top and rode him, keeping up a strong rhythm without tiring. He had to admire her stamina and wanted to make sure she came as well. He tried to think calming thoughts, to last as long as possible, resisting the strong arousal brought on by her soft moans and the sweet rhythmic squeeze on his cock. With dampened finger-tips, he fondled her small clitoris and got her really humming.

Tonight she came hard, with a shuddering, gasping orgasm, the hot flush spreading from her pussy and thighs to her nipples and the tips of her fingers. He came soon afterward, groaning and bucking. Now there was passion, as she lay warmly on him for a few minutes, still bucking slowly, as the joyful strain ebbed gently away. Devon rolled off him to sleep but, later, for the third night, Ezra secretly watched her sneak out of the hut and return an hour later.

At next morning's swimming lesson, Ezra set Cressi the task of teaching the children while Devon was to coach the matrons. The others were all moderately good, so Ezra would have been free to give Kalyndra a personal lesson but again she never turned up. He had the answer, however.

After lunch, during the hottest part of the afternoon, when most women took a break from their jobs and retired to their huts or found somewhere in the shade to rest, Ezra sought Kalyndra in her mother's hut.

"Kali, come with me," he said.

Ferne raised an eyebrow but said nothing as her daughter unquestioningly obeyed and they set off past the beach and beyond the rocky headland to a deserted cove with its own small beach. Those who saw them go assumed he was taking her away for sex and Kalyndra had no reason to think otherwise; the more so because he immediately stripped when they got there. He told her to do the same and she was soon naked; but she was a little disconcerted when he led her down the beach into the sea.

"Swim for me," he said, "let me watch what you're doing."

It didn't take him long to see what her problem was. Kalyndra had copied his style of breathing every three strokes but, for some reason, breathed much better on the right than on the left, where her arm flailed, making her lose the rhythm.

He held her feet, saying:

"Use your arms alone and try breathing every four strokes."

She did so, breathing to the right. It was better, but Ezra remembered her major skill was holding her breath.

"Try breathing every six strokes," he said.

Here was the proper rhythm. He changed position to hold her at the side and let her kick. She was strong. He held her back for a minute then let her go and she was off. With longer slower kicks and fewer breaths, Kalyndra could now swim further and faster and would soon be a rival again to Cressi and Devon. In a few weeks, he thought, all three girls would be better than him.

"You got it now, Kali," he said. "Come on," and headed out to sea. She followed, keeping up pretty well.

They swam past the headland of the cove, gradually speeding up until they were racing. With her breathing sorted out and her stroke corrected, Kalyndra was a challenge. They headed for the Island in the bay and it was only her lack of practise, the fact that she still had to think about every stroke, that stopped her beating him. Panting, they clambered out onto the sandy shore and lay down to rest under the hot sun. Kalyndra's delectable tits were at their suckable best, rising and falling as she breathed heavily, but Ezra was too exhausted to do anything about it.

"Well done, Kali," he gasped. "You'll be faster than me soon."

She didn't answer but wondered if they were going to make love. They hadn't had sex in weeks, not since before he took Dagma as his bedmate back in the Woodlander camp. Curiously, though she was jealous of Devon as a swimmer, she held no jealousy of her as Ezra's bedmate; yet she was feeling the strain of sexual neglect. In the forest, Ezra had fucked her wildly, even brutally, but now she had the urges of a woman maturing toward her sexual peak and no means to fulfil them as she would like, tied to his bed, submitting to his every whim.

She got her breathing under control. Water dripped off her breasts and thighs as she lay back, her eyes shut, her legs slightly apart, her brown nipples hardening as she succumbed to lustful imaginings.

Then she felt his hand on a breast and his lips on hers. She opened her eyes when he pulled away.

"You know I told you I'd always tie you up to have sex," he said, a glint in his eye. "Well, I may have to break my promise."

"Not yet, though," she answered.

Beneath the untidy palm trees that grew haphazardly on the sandy island were wicker baskets with fresh water and other supplies. She led him to a basket and took out an armful of ropes and leather straps. They were spares kept there to repair the rafts and fishing tackle. There were also wooden pegs to stake fishing nets out to dry.

With a wicked smile, Ezra pulled the beautiful naked girl to him. She dropped her armful of ropes and held him tightly as he kissed her.

Nicely warmed up, he bent her over and tied her wrists to her ankles. The sharp pain of the first spank shook her composure and would have made her smile if he hadn't already gagged her with a leather strap around her mouth. A few more spanks and her bottom was tingling and warm. He kept up the assault until her yelping quieted and her breathing slowed, when she entered the zone where there was no pain but only the joy of submitting. Damp arousal glistened on the folds of her pussy.

An hour later, Kalyndra's nipples were like bullets. They ached after a vigorous sucking. Her red hot bottom stung from the merciless spanking. She was tied spread-eagle, her wrists and ankles staked to the ground, leather straps wound tightly around her waist, forcing out her chest and constricting her breathing, heightening the pleasure of her orgasms. Her back was arched cruelly, pushed up by a roll of palm-leafs. It was a hard stretch, restraining her tightly as Ezra licked her clit, making her cum another time.

"Mmm!" he said as he stuck a finger rudely into her dripping snatch. "You taste wonderful."

She could only moan in reply. He stuck another finger in.

"You know, normally your pussy is saltier than your skin ..." he twisted his fingers around to make her squirm, "but after that swim, it's the other way around. Isn't that interesting?"

She was in no condition to agree or disagree but could only buck and squirm, trying to escape his infiltrating fingers as he wrenched another orgasm out of her. She panted hard into the gag, moaning loudly.

"You have a beautiful pussy, Kali. Long and thin, like you, and very tasty."

He spread her inner lips apart to reveal pink satin cushions and a doughnut hole wrapped around his middle fingers.

"But the best part," he said, "is what it makes you feel when I taste you."

He sank his tongue into her slit and licked around, basting her clit and sucking on the inner lips. She moaned wantonly. He'd got her exactly where he wanted her, writhing and begging for his cock in urgent grunts and sighs. It was time.

He pulled back, grabbed her proud tits and launched himself onto her, plunging his stiff cock deep inside. He squeezed her nipples as he rammed her hard, speeding up as his cock swelled to its fullest. His fucking was urgent and vigorous, rocking her, bringing her gasping to another shaking orgasm. Then he had his own blank feeling of ecstasy and unloaded a sackful of cum into her taut yearning body.

He lay on her heavily while he recovered. She didn't mind. She was still in the zone, contentedly reliving her peaks of ecstasy; but she noticed when the weight lifted and her straps were loosened. She opened her eyes and smiled when he removed her gag. Often, after a hard session, she would curl into a ball and he would hold her warmly. This time she sat facing him, put her arms around his chest and held him as tightly as she could.

"How are you feeling, Darling?" he asked.

"Oh God, Ezra. You gave me a real going over!"

"I know. I've missed you."

"I've missed you, too."

She rubbed circulation back into her wrists and squirmed uncomfortably.

"Ouch!"

"What is it, Darling?"

"My bum. It stings."

"All right, I've got some nut oil in my hut. Let's head back now."

They swam slowly back to the cove, dressed and returned to Ezra's hut, where he rubbed soothing oil (going-away gifts from more than one of the Woodlanders) onto her bottom, as he often did after a good spanking back in the forest.

***

At dinner, Belena announced a wood-cutting trip to the forest the next day. This work would suit Ezra well and he wanted to know what axes the Mariners had. There were a dozen stone axes, some in the settlement, others stored in the forest, and a special treat. Belena was proud to show him an old Earth tool. It was a fireman's axe from the boat, not a woodman's axe, but it had a metal head on a metallo-plastic shaft and would work better than any stone axe.

"I'll sharpen it," he offered, "if I can borrow your grindstone."

The Mariners' grindstone was a large slab of the local sandstone. It was well used but quite soft and Ezra soon realised it would take ages to get a really good edge on the blade. What he needed was a stronger abrasive. Belena suggested that those women with no after-dinner chores could search on the beach for a piece of granite or hard sandstone but Juniel, the ten-year-old daughter of Leanne, ran back to her hut and returned with a leather pouch which she opened and spread on the table, showing off her collection of interesting things found on the beach and in the woods.

An inveterate beachcomber, Juniel had collected such curiosities as seaweed covered with barnacles, colourful sea-shells, pyramids of obsidian, smooth red sandstone pebbles, crumbly yellow sandstone pebbles, a dozen pine cones, some closed, some open, one with dry moss and one with lichen; plus a few small pieces of rough grey stone with white bits in them.

"It's a remarkable collection," Ezra said. "Please may I borrow these grey stones and the red one?"

"You can have them."

"Thank you."

He oiled the axe-blade and tried the various stones on it, finding the rough grey ones the best. An hour later, just as night drew in, the axe had a good blade and they were all set for an early start to the forest next morning.

Having washed in the stream, Ezra and Devon were ready for another night of sex and suspicion together, except this time there was no sex. Devon accepted his excuse that he was tired and snuggled against him to sleep. He stayed awake and, when it came time for her to sneak out, pretended to have just woken up, horny.

"Are you awake, Darling?" he whispered.

"Mmm?" Now it was Devon's turn to pretend to sleep.

"Sorry, I thought you were awake." He put his arm around her and snuggled up close, pressing his hard cock against her buttocks. "Go back to sleep."

"I'm awake now," she said and turned to face him, putting a hand on his hot pole. "Do you want to fuck?"

"That would be nice."

They kissed and he put a hand down to fondle her pussy in time with her slowly wanking him when the two fakers were interrupted by a scratch at the door-post.

"Who is it?" he asked.

"Calliope. I need to speak to Devon."

"Wait a minute."

They got up. Devon didn't know how to explain so she said nothing, but Ezra said:

"Come in, Calliope. What's wrong?"

"Please ask Devon to come out. I don't want to disturb you."

"Calliope, they'll be able to see you if you stay out in front too long. Come around the back, I'll undo the loose boards."

Devon was mortified that he had known all along. She hurriedly found her clothes as Calliope, being sensible and alert, climbed through the gap in the back wall and entered the hut.

It was too dark for Ezra to see the profound concern on Calliope's face or the streaks of dry tears on her cheeks but he heard the edge of panic in her voice.

"I was going to ask Devon where she went of a night," he said, "but now I can guess. What's going on, Calliope?"

Devon had managed to get her leather skirt on and now found her jacket.

"Come on, Calliope," she said. "Let's go. This has nothing to do with him."

"But I can help, probably, if I know what it's about," he insisted.

"You can't help," Devon said, "and it's none of your business."

"Calliope," Ezra said, addressing the older woman, "you can trust me. Tell me what's going on."

"Don't tell him!" Devon said. "He's with Kalyndra. He's on their side."

"Actually, Kalyndra is with me, which is a different thing; and I'm on nobody's side, at least not until I know what the two factions are fighting about."

"Come on, Calliope," Devon repeated, but Calliope stayed.

"What do you know about the factions?" she asked him.

"I think there are two factions, with Ferne and you as the leaders. I don't know any more, but I guess that Belena maintains her rule by playing one faction against another."

"Well, you're right about Belena and the two factions. Ferne is leader of the larger group. Belena gives them the best jobs; but things can change. Belena's always manoeuvring to keep on top. Some day she may favour our faction. It's not the factions that are the problem. It's her tyranny."

"She doesn't seem like a tyrant to me. She seems kind and thoughtful."

"Yes, she seems so." (This was Devon, her voice bitter and sarcastic.) Ezra ignored the sarcasm.

"Is that why you meet at night: so your plot won't be discovered?"

"Yes."

"So what's the danger? She knows you're a faction."

"Oh yes, she set up the factions herself by collecting Ferne's group together and favouring them. We meet in secret for a different reason."

"Don't tell him!" Devon said.

"Don't tell me what?"

"It's Thalassa," Calliope said, ignoring Devon, who raised her arms in despair. "Belena wants her."

"Wants her for what?" Ezra naively asked, to which Devon exclaimed "Oh, God! She hasn't gone, has she?"

"Belena has demanded her as a bedmate," Calliope patiently explained to Ezra; then to Devon: "No, she's to go to her tomorrow night, after dark. I've told her not to go but I fear she'll go anyway, just to keep the peace. She dreads what will happen to us if Belena is thwarted."

"But is it so bad, being Belena's bedmate?" Ezra asked.

"You don't understand!" Devon exclaimed, scornfully. "Belena is going to rape her!"




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 09



Thanks for reading, voting and commenting.

Chapter 9 continues straight on from chapter 8, which ended on the morning that Belena, chief of the Mariners, was banished. Calliope, the new leader, sent Kalyndra and Devon to light the smoke-signal to summon the Woodlanders to a special meeting the next day.

*****

1 A new friendship

Kalyndra and Devon walked in silence across the hot plain to the meeting-place by the forest, keeping up a fast pace, raising dust with their sandals, neither wanting to be the first to slow down.

It took an hour and when they got there, they built a fire from the logs the Woodlanders had stored. They threw the grey powder on the flames, sending up clouds of dense white smoke. When the plume was higher than the tree-tops and rising steadily, they sat down on a log to eat their lunches, waiting in case any Woodlanders nearby saw the signal and came to investigate.

There were no Woodlanders nearby but, in the forest-camp ten miles away (from the meadow beside the small vegetable plot), a thin wisp of smoke could be seen on the western horizon, trailing hundreds of feet into the cloudless blue sky. Mirselene received the report with interest and gave her orders for next day's special meeting with the Mariners.

Back at the meeting-place, the girls finished their lunches quietly and, at last, Devon wanted to talk.

"Well, Goliath?" she said.

"Well, Shrimp?"

Neither insult was fair. There was barely three inches in height between the women.

"Well," Devon repeated, "just because the factions have made up, it doesn't mean we have to be friends."

"Of course not. Rivals forever?"

"Forever!" Devon agreed.

"Because you'll always be in awe of my big womanly breasts," Kalyndra said.

"And you'll always envy my strong beautiful legs."

Kalyndra nodded. "Your legs really are your best feature."

Devon stretched them out, pointing her toes and pulling up her short skirt to expose her thighs.

"I do have rather fine pins," she admitted. She stood and put one foot on the log and show off her calf.

"Yours aren't too bad ..." Devon added.

"Thank you."

"... only they're too long. They make you unbalanced. That's why you're so clumsy."

"It's better to be clumsy than a short-arse."

"Is it?"

Devon began to roll the log with her foot, unbalancing Kalyndra, who started to fall backward. She tried to steady herself but Devon pushed again and Kalyndra began to fall. She reached out and grabbed Devon's skirt, pulling the girl with as she toppled over, laughing.

Devon laughed as well, falling forward onto Kalyndra. As the girls lay together, their arms, legs and hair entangled, they could smell the scent of each other's skins, glowing from the heat of the day. Devon acted first. She put her hands on Kalyndra's shoulders as if to push herself up but stopped, sank down and put her mouth on Kalyndra's, sucking on her lower lip. Devon didn't know whether the kiss lasted one minute or five. Eyes shut, heart pounding, she felt only Kalyndra's full soft lips. Then the dream faded and she was aware of a warm body under her. Devon came back to reality and pushed herself up.

"I'm so sorry, Kalyndra, I couldn't help myself."

"Come here," Kalyndra said, grabbing Devon's shoulders. She pulled her back down.

Now Kalyndra kissed Devon, just as passionately, with open mouths, smooth tongues entwined, a suppressed longing finally released. With Kalyndra's hands holding her tightly around her waist, Devon felt her love returned. Her fear vanished.

They lay on the ground, not caring about the leaves in their hair or the mud on their skirts; kissing, cuddling, occasionally stopping to breathe or to laugh.

Eventually Devon wanted to talk again.

"So, how long have you loved me?" she asked.

"How long have we been rivals?"

"About three years."

"Then, about three years."

"Really? Why didn't you say something?"

"You were so bitter, so angry at us all, especially me."

"It must have seemed so, but I was never really angry at you, Kalyndra. ... And now things are different," Devon said with satisfaction. "It'll take me some time to find my balance but I will; and then I don't think I'll be unhappy again. Not now."

Kalyndra stroked the younger girl's shoulder.

"I won't let you be unhappy, if I can help it. ... So, how about you?"

"How long have I loved you? As long as I can remember. You were always a bright presence in my life. You wafted about the camp, beautiful as a goddess. Everyone looked up to you."

"Wafted, did I?" Kalyndra asked, very amused.

"Like a goddess."

"Despite being so big and clumsy?"

"Uh, huh! A big clumsy goddess."

They laughed and Kalyndra rolled them over. Devon lay back and wrapped her rather fine pins around the taller girl's waist.

"So why didn't you ever say anything to me?" Kalyndra asked.

"I couldn't. You were so remote, so far above everyone."

"Well, I'm above you now."

"Yes, and you can stay there as long as you like."

"Oh, I will."

They kissed again and, comfortably relaxed, Devon wanted to know more:

"Can I ask you something?"

"Go on."

"Why do you love him?"

Kalyndra had thought about this but wasn't sure how to frame her answer.

"I can't really say. I suppose, because I do."

"That's no reason."

"Do I need a reason?"

"Everything has a reason, Kalyndra."

"All right. He's easy to love. He's kind and thoughtful. Also, he's the only man there is."

"Is that your whole reason?"

Kalyndra paused. She didn't want to keep anything from her new-old love.

"No. There's more. He makes me feel wanted, desired, adored ... and fulfilled. Especially fulfilled."

"That's a lot of things to feel. But I think I understand. So that's why you're his slave?"

"I'm not his slave!"

"Aren't you?"

"Well, I'm sort of his sex-slave. And I swore to follow him."

"So what will he say about us?"

"He'll say, 'Devon is the luckiest girl on Samothea.'"

"He will?"

"Yes."

"He won't mind if we're bedmates?"

"Why would he? He doesn't mind that Dipti and Urulla are lovers, or that Erin and Annela share a bed. Why would he mind about us?"

"I hope you're right; but you'd best ask him. I don't want you to lose him for my sake."

"It won't happen. Trust me."

"I trust you," Devon said, as she lifted her mouth to Kalyndra's.

Half-an-hour later, it was clear no Woodlanders were coming, and it was past time they were heading back to the settlement. Kalyndra helped Devon up and they walked hand-in-hand across the plain, chatting gaily, sometimes out of sheer happiness stopping to hold each other and kiss; but not for too long.

They were back in the settlement sooner than they wanted. It was mid-afternoon when they reported to Calliope, who had cleared Belena's stuff out of the boat and was moving her own belongings in.

"Well done, girls," she said. "We saw the signal. Did you have enough lunch? Yes? Then Ferne will give you your afternoon chores."

Ezra was helping some of the Mariners sort through a pile of oddments from the boat. They were hoping to find some old Earth technology he might repair but were having no luck. Apparently, the Cloners had ransacked the boat ages ago and taken away anything promising.

He threw another useless item on the storage pile and looked up to greet the girls.

Devon said: "Kalyndra and I have something to tell you. Do you mind if she comes to our hut tonight?"

"I don't mind at all."

"Good."

With that enigma for Ezra to ponder, the girls went off to find Ferne and learn their jobs.

Kalyndra and Devon had spent all afternoon working together, then bathed together in the stream and sat side-by-side at dinner; by which time everyone knew there had been another change in the settlement. Even Ezra had noticed, and he had almost no social antennae at all. It made him curious to know what they had to say.

There was no dancing that night after dinner. It was too early to celebrate the expulsion of Belena and those planning to make an early start to meet the Woodlanders tomorrow went to bed early.

When the girls came into the hut, they carried burning tapers. They sat on the bed while he took the wicker stool. Kalyndra made the announcement:

"Devon and I are in love. We're going to be bedmates."

"That's wonderful!" Ezra exclaimed. "Congratulations!"

"So you don't mind?" Devon asked.

"Why should I mind? I'm really pleased for you and I hope that you'll make each other very happy."

Devon could see he was completely sincere and she warmed to him even more than before. She didn't yet love him, not the way Kalyndra did, but she admired him for his part in ousting Belena. More than this, she enjoyed their week together, which had given her as much sexual pleasure as she'd ever known; and she wanted to love him for her new girlfriend's sake. There was no jealousy (or so she thought), but she and Ezra both noticed Kalyndra fall silent.

"What is it, Kali?" Ezra asked. "Have I said something wrong?"

"No. It's fine."

"Devon, help me out, please?" he asked. "This is female psychology."

Devon looked deeply into her girlfriend's smoky black eyes. Kalyndra met her gaze, smiling, but she couldn't hide her feelings.

"Kalyndra, you're disappointed. Let me guess why. ... You predicted Ezra wouldn't object to our relationship but you didn't want him to approve it so readily. If he'd disapproved, then you could've persuaded him to change his mind, showing me your power over him."

"Is that it, Kali?" Ezra asked. "You know you don't need to show your power over me. No one can doubt it. Everything we do together is down to you. It's my need for you that drives me."

"I know," Kalyndra said. "It's not that. Honestly."

"Well then, what?"

"It's that you're happy for Devon and me because it makes it easier for you to leave me here."

"My God! You're right! I'm sorry Kali. I admit that thought was at the back of my mind. ... I'm not going to leave you permanently, but when I go back to the Woodlanders, I thought you'd be comforted by Devon, until I could come back and claim you - which I will."

"You're not going away with him?" Devon asked her. "But your promise?"

"I have to stay here, in case Belena comes back or the rival factions start up again." She took Devon's hand. "And now I have another reason to stay."

Devon had mixed feelings. Of course she wanted her lover to stay; but she had been resigned to letting her go away with Ezra and she was sincere in not wanting to split Kalyndra away from him.

"I'm glad you're staying," she said, "but I'll understand when you have to go away."

"She - we - won't be away forever," Ezra said. "We're definitely coming back to the Mariners." After this, there was nothing to add. No one knew what would happen in the future and it would be fruitless to speculate.

"I'll go back to my hut now," Kalyndra said.

"You don't have to," Ezra replied. "I'll leave you two alone. Someone will put me up."

"No, Ezra. It's Devon's last night with you. You two stay."

He turned to Devon.

"It should be your choice, Devon. Do you want to spend your first night with Kali here?"

Devon thought a minute and had the best idea.

"I want you both to stay."

Ezra was enchanted. Two women at a time was one of every man's fantasies.

2 Three in a bed

"I need to go to my hut," Kalyndra said. "I'll be back soon." She was swiftly out of the door and returned a few minutes later carrying a small cloth bag. In response to Devon's quizzical look, she said:

"It's been a night of revelations already and they're not over yet."

She tipped the bag out onto the bed. It contained the rope shackles and gag from her time in the Woodlander Camp. When Devon's eyes boggled and a hard look showed on her face, Kalyndra said:

"Don't worry. They're for me. It's so Ezra can keep a promise he made."

Devon didn't say any more but Ezra gathered up the ropes and took them to his stool, saying:

"Why don't you two start and I'll join in when I see an opening."

Kalyndra was pleased by this and pulled Devon to her.

"Come here," she said. "The clumsy goddess wants to get to your opening first."

Devon laughed.

"Crudity from you, Kalyndra? You're ruining my illusions."

"I'll ruin more than your illusions if you don't kiss me right now."

Laughing, the girls kissed, and then kissed some more, holding each other tightly, warming into it, the unfulfilled lust of the afternoon finally unleashed.

They got comfortable on the bed, making love the same way the Woodlanders did, slowly, with gentle touches from sensitively exploring fingers and soft kisses on neck, arms or shoulders as they helped each other take off their jackets.

"Such large, womanly breasts," Devon said, admiringly.

Kalyndra ran her hand along Devon's thigh.

"Such strong beautiful legs," she replied.

Ezra had no idea why the girls laughed so much at this but he was happy they were happy. He was also pleased they were unselfconscious about him being there. They hadn't forgotten him but they weren't putting on a show, delightful though it was for him to watch the erotic dance.

It was joyful love-making, sweet and playful. The girls giggled as they undressed each other, learning each other's bodies. Kalyndra soon found that Devon's nipples were too sensitive to be played with much when she was aroused; but Devon was pleased to learn she could lick and suck Kalyndra's tits as much as she wanted and the older girl would still encourage her.

They sat opposite each other and scissored their legs, slowly rocking their bodies together, rubbing their pussies. Their moaning voices filled the hut, a delicious sound of urgent lust and pleasure.

Gentle and sensitive though their love-play was, two such driven women, who had lately been fierce rivals, couldn't completely suppress their rivalry. Everything between them had been a competition and the same imperative began to govern.

As usual, Devon started it. She pulled Kalyndra onto her and, as they kissed deeply, her fingers explored the bush of Kalyndra's pubic hair, seeking out her clitoris, tending it carefully, then with more purpose, until Kalyndra was strongly aroused and moaning softly. Kalyndra's reply was to diddle Devon's clit, rubbing the sensitive nub between her long elegant fingers.

Now the race was on to see who could make the other girl cum first. Kalyndra had practise in controlling her orgasms. She pushed down her mounting arousal and breathed deeply. It wasn't so easy for Devon, who was making a hoarse humming kind of moan and so getting into it that she began to neglect Kalyndra's pussy and lay back, her eyes shut, her knees spread wide, arching her back, hands gripping the sheet.

Kalyndra pressed her advantage. She knelt over Devon, one hand on her thin flat stomach, the other working wonders on her sweet little pussy. Devon gasped and shook with her first orgasm. She shook and writhed again as Kalyndra toyed with her until, with a final gasp, she twisted her legs aside, stopping Kalyndra's fun.

Devon lay breathing heavily, her arms stretched out, basking in a warm glow, eyes half-closed, a beatific smile on her melancholy face.

"Do I win?" Kalyndra asked, leaning over her.

"You win - for now," Devon replied, pulling her down to repeat the erotic dance once more.

Some time later, when she was kneeling beside Kalyndra, lapping at the long slit of her belly-button, Devon remembered something. She patted Kalyndra on the stomach, saying "Wait there," got up and walked languidly over to Ezra, who was on his stool, enthralled and erect. Devon bent over to put her mouth passionately on his. As they kissed, she pushed her hand down his shorts and slowly stroked his cock. A minute later she pulled away, giving his cock one last squeeze, saying: "I just wanted to keep you interested."

"I'm interested, all right," he said as she sashayed back to her position on top of Kalyndra.

The pretty love-making went on for another half-hour before Ezra got involved. Kalyndra also remembered him. Once, when she had her face planted between Devon's thighs, she stuck her bottom in the air and wiggled it at him, offering him an opening to join in; but he let the invitation pass. Now the girls were in the sixty-nine position, feeling the warm tingling on their skins after cumming. Kalyndra was on top, licking and fingering Devon's pussy and having her own clitoris jangled by Devon's tongue.

Kalyndra hunched and bucked and gently climaxed, letting herself relax down on her lover. When she sat up again she gave Ezra a mischievous smile. It was surely time. She took hold of Devon's ankles and pulled her legs wide. Devon knew what was coming. She wanted it and let Kalyndra know by re-doubling the efforts on her pussy.

Ezra was naked and ready. He knelt on the bed and pushed his cock between Devon's flaring pussy-lips. The girl moaned in her throat and bucked upward. He sank his rod into her soaked pussy and began thrusting.

The three of them made a triangle, with Devon as the base and Ezra and Kalyndra, mouth to mouth, at the apex. Devon loved being at the centre of the fucking. She arched her back, keeping up the rhythm in her tongue and pelvis. Kalyndra let Devon's legs go, leant back and thrust her chest out for Ezra to take a good mouthful.

They fucked nice and slowly, savouring it, making it last, until a long spasm overtook Devon. She cried out, writhing and thrusting, then lay still. Ezra withdrew and stepped away while Kalyndra cuddled Devon's tension away.

He wasn't being boorish but had gone to fetch the ropes and, as Kalyndra knelt astride her girlfriend, he pulled her arms behind her back, crossed them over and began tying them together. She made no protest and Devon looked on with interest and a little disquiet.

"Don't worry, Darling," Kalyndra whispered. "I really love this."

In the light of the last remaining taper, Devon got a good look at Kalyndra's face as Ezra tightened the ropes. Her eyes were clouding over with a smoky lust. Her face became serene and calm, her breathing deep. Ezra pulled her bottom up, pushing her head down beside Devon's. He smacked her firm buttocks a few times, just to warm them up, and began playing with her pussy. She shut her eyes and gave a throaty moan, her mouth wide open. Just the rough ropes and the feeling of being manhandled transported her into her special zone.

Devon hadn't seen anything like it, a girl enjoying such treatment. Despite herself, it turned her on. She watched, fascinated, sharing a smile with Ezra.

"Together?" he said.

Devon nodded. They pushed Kalyndra onto her back, lay either side of her and began to adore the tied girl, stroking her hair and kissing her in turn. When they kissed their way down her neck and shoulders, they synchronised their movements. They reached her tits together, licking and sucking in unison. And they joined their hands together to fondle her pussy.

With one finger each, they probed Kalyndra's snatch, pushing in deeply, stretching the lips aside, making the tall girl buck and moan, bringing her to a sweet and noisy little climax. Dividing their labours, Devon worked Kalyndra's clitoris while Ezra rubbed her g-spot. Here was the big orgasm they wanted to give her. Kalyndra writhed, her thighs shaking, the wrenching spasm stopping her breath, rolling her eyes into the top of her head.

When she recovered, they made a triangle again, with Ezra at the base and Devon slowly riding his cock. Kalyndra squatted over his face, his tongue in her hole. Devon's hands were on her shoulders, his on her arms, helping her balance, until Ezra finished, with a grunt and a cry as joy numbed his senses. Devon came at the same time, a last flash of lightning after a storm of pleasure.




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 09



Afterward, with Kalyndra untied, the three of them lay huddled together, Devon squashed in between. Ezra was exhausted and fell fast asleep but the girls were still buzzing from their sexual highs and couldn't rest.

"Do you want to talk, Kalyndra?"

"Shush! You'll wake him."

"He's probably awake anyway: he's very good at pretending to sleep."

Devon pushed him a bit to check. He groaned and rolled over, releasing his share of the old coarse blanket. She stripped it from him and pulled it over Kalyndra and herself.

"That's not fair, Devon!" Kalyndra whispered.

"Of course it's fair! He's naturally hotter than us. Besides, he won't notice if he's really asleep."

But Kalyndra wouldn't settle until she'd covered Ezra again, even if it meant she was partly outside the blanket herself. Devon solved the problem by lying on her girlfriend. They kept each other warm.

"You're an amazing lover, Kalyndra. I wish I'd made a move ages ago."

"So do I, but what's past is past. We have our whole lives now to make up for missed opportunities."

"True. ... So, tell me: which do you prefer, cock or pussy?"

"That's not a fair question."

"Sure it is. I know the answer myself."

"Go on."

"Well, before I would have said it depends on the pussy but now I know."

"Yes?" Kalyndra waited, amused by her sleepless girlfriend.

"Now I prefer cock. ... Ow! No, stop! Ow! That tickles. Ow! I'm joking, I'm joking."

Kalyndra held Devon close and soothingly rubbed the ribs she had just been pinching. But Devon remembered something else she wanted to tease Kalyndra about.

"He calls you Kali. That's sweet: a pet name."

"What of it?"

"Nothing. Only, it must be nice to have a pet."

Kalyndra rammed two fingers into Devon's snatch.

"Oh God! Sorry, sorry," Devon whimpered. "Ow! Please?"

Kalyndra twisted her fingers around. Devon's eyes rolled up in her head and she tried to pull away. She didn't want her over-sensitised pussy to have another wrenching orgasm forced from her, but she was held firmly and to fight too hard would definitely wake Ezra.

"I'm sorry, Kalyndra, you're not his pet."

"Oh, but I am his pet and happy to be so. Shall I make you my pet?"

"Yes, yes, anything! Please?"

"You'll obey me?"

"Like hell, I will. ... Ow! Ow! Yes, yes, I'll obey!"

"Good."

The girls were laughing hard but also trying to whisper, which made them giggle even more.

"I love you, Devon. I'm glad we found each other, at last."

"I love you, Kalyndra. You've given me the most amazing day of my life!"

So they slept at last - and were still sleeping next day when Thalassa knocked on the doorpost to fetch Ezra for breakfast.

Calliope, Ferne and Leanne had already eaten and were preparing for the meeting at the forest-edge. Dazed and still sleepy, Ezra sat down for a swift meal before they set off. The ambassadors carried water, a packed lunch and a basket of smoked fish as a gift for Mirselene. Thalassa made a fifth member of the party. She was hoping to meet Urulla and her other Woodlander friends.

3 The chiefs meet

The two parties reached the meeting-place at about the same time in the morning. Mirselene was there with Casti, her second-in-command, and half the Woodlander tribe. It didn't take Calliope long to announce what had happened to the Mariners but it took much longer to satisfy all the queries of the shocked Woodlanders.

Mirselene herself listened to the story of the mutiny with a stony face. It was clear she didn't approve of tribal chiefs being deposed. When all the circumstances of Belena's crimes were known, however, she had no complaint but welcomed Calliope as her sister. Then the two chiefs, Ferne and Casti (their lieutenants) got down to business.

Thalassa and Urulla went off together to catch up. Ezra spoke to Sharne, Dipti and the others. Annela had stayed behind in the camp. She was well and the baby was kicking wildly. Dipti was nearly five months pregnant and looked wonderful. So did Sharne, who was four months gone. Their bellies stuck out proud and warm. Ezra didn't get much time with his old bedmates: Parvinder sent Dagma and him to chop more fire-wood for stock.

This was typical on Samothea, especially among the Woodlanders. Stone tools, an unyielding soil, no television and few books meant that spare time was devoted to work. It was rare to see anyone in the forest not performing a chore. Even when they sat around gossiping, most women would be preparing food, spinning thread or weaving.

Dagma and Ezra had replenished the store of logs when he was called over by Mirselene. After some surprisingly firm negotiation by Calliope, the current trade agreement was confirmed and now Mirselene - his chief still - had a private question. She took him to one side.

"How are you being treated, Ezra?"

"Very well, Madam."

"Good. Do you trust Calliope?"

"Yes."

"Completely?"

He nodded.

"Why?"

"Did she tell you my part in the coup?" he asked.

"She did."

"About how your suspicions about Belena were confirmed?"

"Yes."

"Well, we trusted each other completely then and I've seen no reason since to change my mind."

"Excellent. It's worked out better than I hoped. Though I don't as a rule approve of deposing elected chiefs, this was justified. ... Ezra, I think we should start the plan to salvage your space-ship."

Thus resolved, they returned to the group.

"Calliope," Mirselene said, "Ezra has something to tell you that you may find interesting."

Calliope politely turned to him.

"We lied to Belena about my space-ship crashing in the forest," he announced. "In fact, I crash-landed in the ocean, south of the Mariner Settlement."

"You did?" Calliope was astonished. "We heard and saw nothing. How far south?"

"I can't say but it was where the plain is about twenty miles wide. It took me two days to cross from the beach to the forest but I was injured and slow."

"This is amazing. Why did you set out for the forest and how did you know where to find the Woodlanders' Camp?"

"I had help. This was something else we didn't tell Belena. Two Herder girls rescued me from the sea and helped me across the plain to the forest camp."

"Good heavens! The runaways that Solange made such a fuss about some months ago? Ezra, you are full of surprises. Well, why are you telling us this now?"

"Because we plan to salvage his ship," Mirselene said, "and we need the Mariners' help - in exchange for a proportion of the salvage."

"I see. You need us to dive down to the ship and bring up - what?"

"Well, lots of things," Ezra said. "I'd like my clothes, especially underwear. I have tools, books, knives, forks, plates and cups - all useful things. Water bottles. Blankets. A mattress. Some electronic equipment might still work. I dearly wish I could retrieve my heavy machinery, but that may be impossible. The medical kits from the escape-pods would be useful."

"If everyone agrees, I propose to split the salvage equally between the Woodlanders, the Mariners and me. I will get the final word on individual items. There are some things I need for myself and some things I've promised to other people." (Ezra didn't mention his weapons, which he didn't want others to know about, still less ever to use.)

Calliope considered a moment, just for effect.

"Of course, the Mariners will be happy to help. Just guide us to the place. We'll take rafts and dive from those if it's a long way from the beach."

"There's a problem, Calliope," Ezra admitted. "I was too dazed to know exactly where it was. It just looked like an endless beach. I'm sure I'd never recognise the place again."

"Well, just ask those Herder girls. They're good at tracking. They'd probably remember."

"That's another problem," Mirselene added. "The girls aren't with us any more. Also, they fear the Herders and don't want to risk getting captured."

"I see," Calliope spoke deliberately. "So there's a sunken space-ship somewhere in the ocean south of our settlement but you cannot say where. Why did you reveal this secret to us now?"

Mirselene smiled.

"Well," she said, "we were hoping you might know a clever way of finding the ship without the help of Wildchild and Tamar."

Calliope and Ferne looked quizzical at the name 'Wildchild' but didn't probe further.

"Any ideas, Ferne?" Calliope asked.

"Only one: flotsam."

"And what in the world is 'flotsam'?" Mirselene asked.

Ferne explained:

"Anything that floats on the sea and gets washed up onto the beach - seaweed and driftwood, usually - is flotsam. Because we know the tides and the currents, we can make a guess where it originated. If there's anything on Ezra's ship that became detached and can float, like clothing, then it will probably be found on the beach north-east of the wreck, depending on how long the wreckage floated and how far out to sea the ship is."

"I can't tell you exactly," Ezra said, "but I think I swam about one-hundred feet before I reached the beach and passed out."

"We could check the beaches southward for twenty miles or more and, if we find something, search the ocean nearby. But that job would take more manpower than we can spare. As for searching the ocean without having any flotsam as a clue - well, there's not enough manpower on all Samothea to complete that task in a decade."

"Sorry, Ezra," Calliope said, "but I agree with Ferne. I'll ask the tribe if anything has been found and I'll organise a search of the beach south of us but I wouldn't get your hopes up."

"Even so," Mirselene said, "Wildchild and Tamar may return soon and lead us right to the spot, so I think there's a reasonable enough prospect for us to formalise an agreement now." (Ezra and Casti shared a smile, knowing how much Mirselene loved to make formal treaties.) "I, for one, accept Ezra's proposed sharing out of the salvage."

"Yes, I agree we should make a treaty," Calliope replied, "but I do wonder why the Woodlanders are to receive a third of the salvage when they won't be doing any of the work."

Miselene smiled but didn't answer.

"Calliope is right," Ezra said: "the Woodlanders shouldn't get any share at all. So here's my new proposal: the Mariners get one-third, as before, and I get two-thirds. After all, it's my ship."

"I suppose that's fair," Calliope had to agree.

"In which case, I give one-half of my two-thirds to the Woodlanders."

Calliope laughed and the other women laughed with her.

"All right. I'm sorry. I was being greedy. I'm not very good at being a chief."

"Nonsense, Sister," Mirselene said. "You're doing very well indeed. Much better than I did on my first day. I know how tempting it is to exercise your power, but you must use it sparingly. Don't worry, it'll get easier."

"Thank you, Mirselene. ... Ezra, I accept your proposal: a third of the salvage each for us and you to decide who gets what."

"Actually," Ezra added, "the Woodlanders will be doing quite a lot of work. - Mirselene, I want to construct some apparatus to make the task of salvaging easier. I'm going to need bamboo poles, about two inches in diameter and between three and six feet long, dozens of them, strips of cloth, balls of twine, lots of that waterproof glue that Annela makes and some wooden paddles. I'll let you know at the next meeting if there's anything else I need."

"I will arrange it, of course, but what will you need all that stuff for? How will it make it easier to salvage your ship?"

Ezra's answer was enigmatic:

"I'm going to teach the Mariners how to breathe underwater."

4 Sex with Cressi

The Mariner envoys returned in the mid-afternoon, with time enough for chores, bathing in the river and settling down for a dinner animated by all the questions that could possibly be asked after Calliope told the tribe where Ezra's space-ship had really landed. She enquired if anyone had found anything unusual - anything at all man-made and relatively new - on the beach. No one came forward but all the tribe promised to keep their eyes peeled for Earthside flotsam. There were also volunteers for an expedition to scour the beach south of the settlement on the next day off.

Needless to say, everyone was strongly enjoined not to speak a word of this to the Herders. It wasn't from fear that the Herders would salvage the ship themselves, but they might steal the booty, so irresistible was the lure of old-Earth technology.

Another lively conversation concerned the hut arrangements, now that Kalyndra and Devon were bedmates and Cressi was temporarily moving in with Ezra. With some compromise and some bawdy joshing, accommodation was re-arranged and Cressi moved a bag of her belongings into Ezra's hut. When the dinner plates were cleaned and it was time for bed, Cressi came into Ezra's hut smiling and, as always, looking happy. Devon had a naturally sad face, even when she wasn't unhappy, but Cressi had a naturally happy face, with a joyful soul to match.

She was a pretty girl, with frizzy silver-blonde hair, a round face, pale-blue eyes and a cute ski-jump nose. She had a habit of raising her chin, exposing a delicate pale neck. Medium height with a small frame, she had small firm tits and round buttocks. She wiggled delightfully when she walked or ran and was wiggling now, as she pulled her skirt off, undressing for bed, not wanting to talk first or be undressed by him. Taking his cue from her, Ezra also undressed and pretty soon they were lying naked together on the bed.

Like Devon, Cressi had her own ideas of how she wanted sex, as Ezra soon found out. Sex with Cressi was like sex with a wildcat - without the bestiality, of course.

The love-play was gentle, at first, with soft kissing, stroking and fondling. Then Ezra discovered how ticklish Cressi was. He made her laugh so hard she couldn't breathe. She flailed around wildly on the bed until, like a cat who'd had enough of playing, she turned on Ezra and scratched him, hard across the chest. He sat up, looking so comically shocked that she leant forward and bit him on the forearm as well, just for emphasis.

"Ow!" he said, holding his arm. "You vixen!"

She laughed as he pounced on her, pushing her on her front. He pulled her arms behind her back and, with one hand, held her wrists tightly while he walloped her bottom. Cressi was laughing hard. She liked the spanking so much that she spread her knees wide and pushed her bottom up, bucking in time with the assault. When her buttocks were red, the small pink slit between them was dripping moisture and Ezra stopped smacking to taste her nectar.

He pushed his face hard into her bottom and sucked on her pussy-lips. Her juices smothered his moustache and beard. After a little while, Cressi was purring like a contented feline. He let go of her arms, turned her on her back and lay on her. Cressi opened her eyes and her legs.

It was a frenetic fucking, with constant changes of position as Cressi wanted to try every possible stance. She used her claws whenever she climaxed. She even managed to scratch him with her toenails. They finished with her on top, which seemed to be every Samothean woman's preference.

Afterward, Cressi curled up into a ball and rested against him, demanding to be held and stroked, breathing deeply.

Next morning, she was ready to go again, her hand on his erect rod, the hungry feline glint in her eyes. They fucked sweetly and slowly, without scratching or biting.

Ezra tried not to compare his bedmates, but as they lay basking in post-coital contentment, watching motes of dust dance in the shafts of light that beamed through the knot-holes of the hut walls, he reflected that, so far, only Annela and Cressi actually wanted morning sex. Kalyndra enthusiastically responded to anything he desired but she never initiated morning sex; and his other bedmates only ever put up with it. That's as far as his reflections went: Cressi wanted to be up and doing and they were already late for breakfast.

5 Mariner technology and Earth technology

At lunch, after the morning chores, Ezra had a surprise from Juniel: an amazing piece of luck.

It was the hottest part of the day and those members of the tribe who weren't hungry were sheltering from the sun in their huts, while those who were hungry (Ezra was always the first) sat at the table under the awning by the boat, picking at dried fish, sweet potatoes and beans.

Odette, the adolescent, a black girl with a huge smile, sat next to her best friend, ten-year-old Juniel, the sharp-eyed beachcomber. Odette nudged her friend and whispered. Juniel shook her head but Odette insisted and, at last, Juniel went to her hut, returning a few minutes later. She went over to Ezra and spoke to him.

"The flotsam Madam Calliope was talking about: what would it be like?" she asked.

"Anything from clothes to small plastic items, maybe a bag."

"Anything like this?"

Juniel reached into the pocket of her dress and brought out a small copper-coloured metallo-plastic object, like a lipstick or a lighter. As soon as he saw it in her hand he recognised it.

"Juniel, that's my pen-knife. It must have fallen out of my pocket when I scrambled up the beach after my ship sank. I wish you could show me where you found it."

"I think I know where it was," Juniel said. "I went for a walk with my mum, Aunt Althea and Odette. We stopped lots of times and I saw it sticking out of the sand."

"You never told me you found anything like this, Juniel," Leanne, her mother, said. "What is it, Ezra?"

"It's a pen-knife. An electronic knife, with a laser blade. May I have it, Juniel? I'll show you how it works - if it still works."

"Will you give it me back when you're done?" Juniel asked.

"Of course."

"Darling," Leanne said, "if it's Ezra's pen-knife, you should let him keep it."

"Do I have to?" she asked him.

"No. I lost it, you found it: it's yours if you want it."

"It's pretty and I've got nothing like it," she explained.

"I understand. However, it's precious to me and it can be dangerous. Will you let me buy it back from you?"

"Why is it dangerous? What can it do?"

"It can do lots of things. It can cut leather, metal and even stone. It can start a fire. It can also stick together anything that melts, with a joint we call a 'weld'."

She handed the knife to him, saying: "Show me please?"

The pen-knife had a lid with a key-ring at one end and a diamond point at the other. The stem in between had four ring dials and a button. Ezra twisted the dials in an order that unlocked the device. He pressed the button to activate the laser-blade. A small red glow appeared out of the diamond and then died.

"It seems to be working, but it needs power."

He twisted the dials some more to release the lid and expose a small hook, which he pulled with a finger-nail. A small black umbrella appeared, unfurled and turned inside out. He pointed it at the sun for a few minutes. Lights began to appear on the dials and the base of the diamond glowed red, then orange, yellow and through the rainbow until the whole diamond was white.

Ezra pushed the solar panel back in, replaced the lid and twisted the dials again. Now, when he pressed the button, a red laser-blade appeared, about three inches long and half-an-inch wide.

"Ooh!" said the wide-eyed Juniel, speaking for all the women. "What will that do?"

"Let me show you," he said and led her over to Calliope's boat. The hubbub brought the whole tribe out to see what was going on, including Calliope, who had been dozing in her boat.

"Madam," Ezra said, "can I make an adjustment to your boat?"

"What kind of adjustment?"

He pointed to a jagged piece of the hull that stuck out at the top corner of the make-shift entrance, causing the tarpaulin to hang crookedly at that point, risking holes being poked in the water-proof sheet whenever it was jostled by a high wind.




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 09



"I'd like to smooth off that edge."

"Go ahead, if you can."

With a touch of showmanship, Ezra made a strong blue laser-blade, two inches long, holding it up for all to see, saying:

"Stand back everyone, at least ten feet, and don't look directly at the blade when I make the cut."

They all stepped back and copied him as he shielded his eyes with one hand; then he sliced cleanly through the offending metal in a fraction of a second. There had been a bright white flash. Now there was an orange glow on the edge that remained. He held out the cut piece, a triangle with two jagged edges and a shiny smooth edge, gently smoking where the surface-paint had rippled and burned.

"Don't anyone try to touch it," he said. "It's still searing hot." He proved this by dipping one corner in a cup of water, which hissed and bubbled off a cloud of steam.

The pen-knife needed recharging in the sun; after which he took a log from the camp-fire and, adjusting the laser-blade with another twist of the dials, burnt a hole in it. The wood crackled, sputtered and burst into flames. The tribe clapped.

"You can see how dangerous this tool can be, Juniel, so name your price to let me buy it."

"I don't know."

"How about I make you something? Your own chair, for example."

"I don't want a chair."

"Well, you think about what you want and I promise I'll make it for you."

Then he remembered he'd made a lot of promises since arriving on Samothea and not been able to keep them all. Also, Juniel was an intelligent girl and he knew with what lawyer-like tenacity an intelligent ten-year-old can insist on an agreement.

"What I mean," he amended himself, "is that, in exchange for giving me the pen-knife, I will make, find or do for you anything you want, so long as it's legal, moral, physically possible, of finite size, duration and cost and not likely to cause fear or harm to innocent people or animals."

Juniel absorbed this promise and nodded seriously.

"I accept," she said. "Will you show me how to use it?"

"Of course."

"Certainly not!" Leanne exclaimed. "Ezra, what are you thinking?"

"She fusses," Juniel said, with an air of wise resignation.

"So I see," Ezra whispered confidentially.

He twisted the dials a last time, locking the setting into place with a code. Now the blade could only get warm and not project more than half-an-inch.

"I've made it safe, Leanne," as he demonstrated by passing a soft red blade straight through his hand. There were sharp intakes of breath - some of the audience actually jumped - followed by relieved laughter.

"Here, Juniel," he said, giving the knife back to her. "If you twist this dial, you can change the colour. I'll give everyone lessons on how to use it, if Juniel will lend it to me for the time-being."

"I will, later," she said earnestly. For now, she wanted to play with it. Odette and the other children joined her and they played changing the colour of the blade all afternoon, until it ran out of charge; then they brought it back for Ezra to recharge it.

That night, Ezra had a surprise from Cressi (as if being scratched and bitten during sex weren't surprise enough): Cressi brought her bedmate, Salema, into the hut with her.

Cressi and Salema were lovers and so often shared a hut that their periods had synchronised. Salema was due to have her period in the week she would be with Ezra. Cressi therefore decided to share him with her. He didn't mind. The three of them made love sweetly. He had the joy of lying back while the two women knelt on the bed and took turns to suck his cock.

Salema was short and curvy, with Creole features and warm blood. Sultry and sensual, in contrast to the wild and agonistic Cressi, the girls made a beautiful combination. As always with the women of Samothea, never having had sex with a man before and not quite knowing what to do, Salema encouraged Ezra to take charge; but when she decided what she liked, she had no hesitation in saying so.

They finished with Salema on top, riding his cock slowly, leaning back, with Cressi sucking her tits and rubbing her clit, while Ezra brought Cressi off with a probing finger, flicking her own joy buzzer with his thumb. Juices flowed and moaning cries kept those in the nearby huts awake into the early hours.

***

Over-night, Juniel thought about what she wanted in exchange for her knife. She consulted her mother and, after breakfast, approached Ezra.

"I know what I want," she told him.

"Well done. What is it?"

"I want a baby sister."

He smiled and looked to Leanne to see if she was party to the request. Leanne smiled back at him.

"Well, I can't guarantee success, you understand. Nor can we be sure it will be a sister. You may get a baby brother instead. What would you say to that?"

Juniel thought for a minute.

"A brother would be satisfactory; so long as he's not too messy and does what he's told."

"I can't guarantee that, either; but I think you've made an excellent choice."

"When will you do it?"

"Well, I need to consult your mother about the best time."

"That's a good idea," Juniel agreed, seriously. "Mum's already been to the Cloner City once. She can tell you what to do."

Making time to try to impregnate Leanne (a task he looked forward to, she was a good-looking blonde woman and friendly) reminded him of something. He looked out for Devon and found her heading down to the sea to go fishing. He walked with her to the raft. 

"Devon, can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Do you want a child?"

She stopped walking. She'd already thought about it. Her first motivation in agreeing to be Ezra's bedmate was the chance to conceive. Learning about sex with a man was also fun. Now she had Kalyndra, it didn't change matters.

"Yes, I want a child."

"Well, here's an indelicate question: is there any chance last week was the right time for you to conceive."

She had no idea why that was an indelicate question.

"Do you mean, when is my period due?"

"Yes, I mean that."

"Not for another week."

"Well, then, if you want, we can find some time to be together before I leave and try properly for a child."

She didn't hesitate.

"I'd like that, Ezra. I'd like that very much."

She kissed him sweetly and skipped off to her job, happy that something else in her life was now turning out as she wanted it to.

***

Ezra devoted the rest of the day to working with his pen-knife, using yesterday's metal off-cut to make a blade. He completed the knife with a crude wooden handle fastened to the tang with threads and presented it to Calliope, who was pleased and commissioned him to trim off more scraps from the boat and make knives for all the Mariners.

There was a couple of days' work involved and Ezra realised he needed help to make the handles, so he asked if anyone was good at wood-working. Odette was immediately pushed forward. It seemed like wood-carving was her special skill. With the encouragement of her mother, the girl overcame her diffidence and ran to fetch an example, bringing back a sculpture of a hovering kestrel: a beautiful piece about ten inches high, even more admirable because Odette had worked only with stone tools.

Ezra invited Odette to carve some fancy handles to fit the blades he would make. She took the job seriously and did well. Two other women joined in the production line, with twine and fish-bone glue and by the time they all rested for lunch, there were half-a-dozen knives ready to be given out.

Seeing Odette's skill at carving gave Ezra an idea. Straight after lunch he made two special knives: a chisel for Odette to use in her carving; and a very thin, slightly curved blade, on which he put an extra-sharp edge using Juniel's grind-stones. Watching him work on this curious tool, Odette asked what it was for.

"It's a razor: a knife I can shave with."

He had to explain shaving to her and then he made his suggestion.

"You're a very skilful sculptress, Odette. Will you do some sculpting on me?"

"What do you mean?"

"Will you shave me with this razor?"

"I'll try."

To begin with, he wanted her to lop his beard short with the pen-knife on a low setting. It was dangerous using it near his skin, so he cautioned her to be extra-careful. She gave it some thought and pulled a comb out of her hair, one of those she wore to keep the frizzy mop under control.

In front of an audience of the whole tribe (after he rejected complaints from Kalyndra, Cressi and others who liked his beard), Odette used her comb against his skin as a guide and sliced through the beard, leaving a thick stubble.

"That's good work, Odette," he enthused gratefully. "I feel cooler already."

Then, with cooking oil as a lubricant, she began to shave his beard, going down the cheeks and up the neck and chin, as he instructed. It was very painful, however careful she was. Inevitably, there were nicks followed by involuntary flinches and bleeding; but, in ten minutes, Ezra felt the relief of being clean-shaven for the first time in nearly eight months.

"Hmm," he said, feeling his chin and smarting as he touched a cut, "I don't think that razor's sharp enough but it was worth it."

He decided he'd stick to having his beard trimmed down to stubble for now.

"So, how about a haircut?"

"You want a haircut now?" Odette asked. "You're not going to wait for haircut day?"

"What the devil is haircut day?"

"It's the day we all have our hair cut." She sounded surprised he didn't know that. "At the Cloner Fair."

"What's the Cloner Fair?"

Calliope was enjoying the show from a bench by the table.

"It's an annual fair we have at the Cloner City," she explained, "when the chiefs meet. On one of the days, we get our hair cut by the Cloners because they own all the scissors."

"I did hear something about the annual chief's meeting. It was the only one Mirselene goes to. But why can't they cut your hair at other times; or, better still, lend you the scissors?"

"Ah, well, you don't know the Cloners yet, Ezra. They don't 'lend' anything. As for haircut day. I suppose it's just a tradition."

As Calliope explained, Ezra encouraged Odette to start cutting his hair with the pen-knife, using the comb against her hand to cut it short. She did good work and sliced Ezra hair back to an inch or so, just how he wanted it, despite the moans of his fans in the audience who wanted him to look like a hippy.

Now it was dinner time and Ezra recharged his pen-knife to present it to Juniel so she could keep it over-night and look at the pretty colours.

Two days later, a small group went for a walk southward along the beach, looking for anything that might have washed up from the sunken space-ship. It was Juniel's treat and also her job to find the place again where she picked up the pen-knife.

Besides Juniel and Ezra, there was Juniel's mother, Leanne, Odette, Kalyndra, Devon and Thalassa. They carried water and food. All wore sun-hats: some crude modern ones, some ancient and torn. Ezra had one specially made by Odette's mother, Althea. It was a bowl-shaped leather cap with a cloth surround, like a curtain, sewn onto it. It kept the sun out of his eyes and off the back of his neck; necessary, now that his hair was short again.

Unfortunately, they found nothing in the ten or so miles they covered each way, though Juniel was positive they'd found the right place. The problem was the sand dunes were always shifting, so who could say where they were six months ago or so. None the less, they went for a swim, diving to take a good look at the sea-bed, hoping to see wreckage of any kind; but there was no success.

Because the pen-knife was buoyant, and the long-shore drift was strongly northward, it might have floated for many miles before being washed up on the beach. Still, it was an enjoyable day out with a picnic. Juniel found some interesting shells and coloured pebbles; Odette collected some drift-wood that she could carve; Kalyndra and Devon disappeared together for a while; and everyone got back to the Settlement exhausted.

Finding the knife added strongly to Ezra's desire to salvage his ship. It showed that only some of his electronic equipment was damaged by the x-rays from the black hole. Maybe more technology would work. It also showed how useful Earthside technology will be on Samothea, how it could transform the lives of the women here.

6 A visit from the Herders

Early one morning, while Salema and Cressi were dozing in bed with Ezra, the peace of the Mariner Settlement was shattered by the thumping of hooves, as three riders galloped down from the plain straight into the camp, spears sloped over their shoulders. The commotion alerted the awake Mariners, who ran into their huts to get their own spears. The lead rider was a wiry but powerful-looking black woman, a Zulu, covered in tattoos. She pulled her horse up in front of the boat and shouted:

"Belena, you old mermaid! Where are you, Sister? Show your face! I haven't ridden all this way to be ignored!"

Her pony, foaming with sweat, too agitated to stand still, snorted and stamped.

With great dignity, Calliope stepped out of the boat and into the square.

"I am Calliope, acting chief of the Mariners," she said, refusing to shout. "Belena is not here."

"Well, acting chief Calliope. I heard you'd driven Belena out and taken her place but I didn't believe anyone could perform such a brazen act of treachery!"

"The Mariners exiled Belena and chose me in her place. If you have come to throw accusations about, Solange, then you can leave by the way you've come. If you want to be friendly, then leave your horse and spear behind and join me at the table. We can discuss your concerns over breakfast."

Solange, chief of the Herders, dismounted and stuck her spear point-first into the ground. Her two tribeswomen did likewise. She threw her reins to one of her women. The three stood in front of the boat while Calliope made herself comfortable at her table, inviting the Herders to sit down. Solange ignored the invitation but walked up and down, no more able to rest than her highly-strung horse.

"I've also heard you have a man here," she proclaimed. "I want to see him."

Calliope knew that Solange was testing her, seeing if she would lose her dignity or her temper.

"Ezra Goldrick is our guest. I will ask if he is willing to meet you but perhaps he is not one who likes being ordered about. ... If you are staying, Sister," she added sweetly, "then we have fish and vegetables. The soup also is very good."

Solange remained standing, her women at attention behind her.

"Please invite your man to show himself."

Kalyndra was closest to Ezra's hut, so Calliope said to her:

"Please ask Ezra if he cares to meet Solange."

She headed to the hut but he'd heard and pushed aside the cloth to step out. He was bigger than the Herder chief expected. She liked what she saw, especially that he kept her gaze.

Solange herself was middle height but carried herself with such dignity that she seemed taller. Very strong and aggressive, she had on a leather jacket and leather shorts. Her sandals were tied up about her calves. Black and purple tattoos ran up her legs and arms, across her shoulders and chest, making her skin seem darker than its natural brown.

She walked up to him for a closer look. He stared back, unmoved by her aggression.

"I hear you're potent, Earthman. Let me see your loins, so I can judge for myself."

"Go fuck yourself!" he replied.

Solange laughed.

"I heard you've already got two of your Woodlander whores pregnant."

Ezra smacked her. It was a back-handed slap to the face, not a punch, but he hit her so hard she went sprawling onto the floor, her arms and legs flailing. The Herder women tried to rush forward but the Mariners were ready with their spears and held them at bay.

Solange was stunned but not unconscious. His strike rattled the teeth in her jaw and robbed her legs of their strength. She tried to rise but her knees buckled. From the floor, she raised an arm to signal her women not to resist.

"You are stronger than I thought," she said, sitting up and rubbing feeling back into her jaw. "That's good to know. You also don't take insults lightly. That's also good. ... I like you, Earthman. ... Help me up."

Ezra stayed still.

"Sister?"

Calliope nodded to Devon, who carefully laid down her knife out of reach and helped Solange stand. She lent on Devon a second as her strength returned.

"Thank you," she said, brushing dust off her tunic. "Sister, I will take those refreshments you were kind enough to offer."

She sat at the table and indicated the other Herder women, saying to Calliope:

"You remember Galatea, my lieutenant? And this is Ash."

"Of course. Welcome, ladies. Come and make yourselves comfortable."

"Ash, you stay with the horses. Galatea, come and join us," Solange ordered.

"I'll send Ash over some food," Calliope offered. "What about watering your horses?"

"We'll take them to the stream when we leave."

"It's high tide. It'll be brackish at the moment. You should go upstream."

While Galatea made her way to the table, Ash tied two of the horses' reins together but she hobbled Solange's mount, preventing the bad-tempered nervous animal from bolting.

It was now that Ezra got his first look at the two Herder women and immediately tried to hide all signs of recognition. Ash was a small, Chinese-looking girl, very thin, with waist-length straight black hair and a leather tunic; but it was Galatea he recognised. She had wavy black hair, a good tan and electric pale green eyes: the very spit and image of Wildchild.

He felt Solange was looking at him and hoped he'd given nothing away, but she didn't speak and the awkward moment passed when Ferne joined Calliope and the Herders at the table, so the chiefs and their deputies could discuss politics. The other Mariners went on with their jobs, bringing breakfast and preparing to go fishing, though some of the wary ones stayed nearby, holding their weapons. They sat on the benches near the camp-fire. Ezra sat with them.

"I expect you're wondering how I know you'd exiled Belena," Solange said to Calliope.

"Not really. I guess one of the Herders met her on the way to or from the Cloner City."

"Yes, one of my braves saw an old woman trudging alone on the prairie. She turned around and gave her a lift to the city, then she reported the outrage to me."

"I'm glad your rider helped Belena. We had to expel her but we don't want her to suffer. I repeat, though, her temporary banishment was in accordance with our laws, which she broke."

"How, exactly, did she break your laws?" Solange demanded.

"By tyranny, bullying ... and other crimes that are none of your damn business, Sister."

Solange gave Calliope a good look and found a quiet strength in the woman. She always became less aggressive when someone stood up to her.

"She's a friend, Calliope. Belena and I had fun times together. She was good to you Mermaids and drove a hard bargain with the Cloners."

"She wasn't good to all the Mariners, Solange," Ferne said, gently.

The Herder chief paused a second.

"I accept that," she said. "I know Belena's philosophy: 'the strong should dominate; the weak should submit'. Apparently, she put it into practise."

She ignored the hard stares from Calliope and Ferne.

Solange had the ability to be at her ease anywhere. She was twenty feet from her spear, surrounded by armed Mariners and had been slapped almost unconscious; yet she was as relaxed as a lion in a herd of gazelle. She tasted her food.

"Calliope, this soup is good," she said.

As the two chiefs and their lieutenants discussed the existing treaty between the tribes, Odette and Juniel shyly approached the table. Calliope noticed them first.




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 09



"Yes, what is it girls?"

Odette spoke.

"Madam Solange, can we stroke your horses?"

"Of course you can, but you must approach from the front. If you go behind them, they may kick. ... Better still, how'd you like to ride a horse?"

"Can we, can we really?"

Solange called over to her tribeswoman.

"Ash, give these girls a ride. Does anyone else want a go? Ezra, can you ride?"

"No!" It was almost a shout. "No, thanks," he repeated, in a normal voice.

"I understand," Solange said. "You're still angry with me. Don't take it personally. I was only testing you."

"Did I pass?"

"I said I liked you, didn't I?"

Solange turned back to her conversation with Calliope and Ferne, as Ash helped Juniel climb up onto a horse. Galatea also came to help and lifted Odette by the waist, heaving her onto the horse in one go. That feat of strength proved she was definitely Wildchild's mother.

Now Ash told the girls to hold tight as she walked the horses out of the camp. They were back quite soon, ready to give rides to other Mariners. Della and May, aged 3 and 6, insisted on going, of course, so Galatea and Ash had to mount and carry the girls with them, seated on the horses' necks.

Ezra watched all this fun from a bench. His expostulation, declining a chance to ride a horse, was not because he was still angry with Solange but because he was petrified of the animals. He had been so as long as he could remember. It had been a trial when his younger sister, Danielle, had gone through that horse-loving stage all girls seem to go through, and he was deposed to transport her to the stables and horse-shows, where the mad beasts would nuzzle him and (so he thought) try to bite and kick him.

A reflex of male pride, however, prevented him admitting as much, so he kept his distance and looked on as fearless Mariner girls whooped and cried for joy on the backs of the insane creatures.

"Come here please, Ezra."

It was Calliope. Solange had done discussing politics and now had something to ask him. He came and sat down at the table.

"Calliope has agreed to sell you to us Herders for three cows and eight sheep. What do you say to that?"

"I'd say that, though I've only just met you, I'm very surprised you've been bested in a deal: Calliope has got much the better of the bargain."

Solange laughed.

"I knew I was right to like you, Earthman. Why don't you come and visit us?"

"Why would I?"

"Well, for two reasons. First, my sluts will give you a very warm welcome."

"You call the Herder women 'sluts'?"

"Believe me, Ezra, you will too, once you've met them."

"And your second reason?"

"So you can see for yourself how life is meant to be lived on Samothea, not skulking in a forest eating nuts, nor pretending to be a mermaid swimming after fish (no offence, Calliope)."

"None taken," she replied, smiling.

"No, you need to be on the open savannah, hot horse-flesh between your thighs, an empty sky above you, riding freely between mountains and cloud-covered sea, your only companion an eagle, screeching overhead."

"It sounds wonderful."

"We Herders have a saying: Grab life by the tits! You can't do that while you're making salt or picking berries."

"Or being a gay shepherdess, nursing lambs."

She laughed and slapped him on the back.

"Called me out on my own bullshit! Well done! We're cow-girls as well, following stupid cattle around, who only munch grass and make dung. But sometimes we go for long rides on the open plain; and when it's just you, a horse, a sea of grass and the eagles, then life really is beautiful. I want you to see it for yourself, then you'll understand."

"I would like to see it."

"Well, why not? What's stopping you?"

"I'm a Woodlander. I have bedmates in the forest who need me - as you well know."

"The Wood-elves can fend for themselves, for now. Tell me, do they still dance naked around tree-stumps and write poems about mushrooms?"

Ezra laughed.

"I don't believe they ever did anything like that."

"Here, I'll make you a deal," Solange said. "I've confirmed the trade agreement with the Mermaids. So now I'll make a new trade agreement with your precious Wood-elves."

He looked quickly at Calliope.

"Don't worry, the Mermaids won't lose out," Solange assured him.

At the moment, the Mariners got a commission for the goods they traded between the Woodlanders and the Herders because the two didn't trade directly, just as the Herders took a commission on the Cloner and Farmer goods they transported to the other tribes.

"We'll lower the prices for the Wood-elves and split the commission with the Mermaids. So what do you say?"

"You'll begin trading with the Woodlanders directly, just to entice me to visit the Herders?"

"Yes, that's my deal, though it's not really for your sake. We should have resumed trading with them long ago, but the system was in place when I became chief and you know how it's easier to keep things the same than to make changes."

"I know. Very well, Solange, I will be happy to pay a visit to the Herders."

"When?"

"In two weeks, at the next trade-meeting with the Woodlanders. If you come to that trade-meeting, I'll leave with you and stay one month at your camp."

"Excellent. Well, I'll just take another bowl of your delicious soup, Sister, and then we'll be off."

Ezra said: "I may have a couple of favours to ask you, Solange."

"What favours?"

"I can't say yet. It depends on some other things happening."

"You're a mysterious fellow, Earthman. I won't commit myself to granting you favours but I promise I'll listen."

It was good enough. The prospect of an alliance between the Woodlanders, Mariners and Herders was good for Ezra's plans to salvage his ship; but it would be perfect if he could get Solange to forgive Wildchild and Tamar, who could then guide the Mariners to where they rescued him. Now, however, he had the problem of telling his Woodlander friends that he wasn't coming back at the end of the month.

***

The next two weeks Ezra spent mostly having sex. After Cressi and Salema, he made good his promise to Juniel by taking her mother, Leanne, as bedmate. At the same time, whenever he had the time and strength in the mornings and afternoons, he did his duty to Devon, who was trying to get pregnant while she was in her most fertile period. Then there was Odette's mother, Althea, who boldly came up to him one day and asked to sleep with him. She was looking to get pregnant again but lust was certainly also a motivator, so passionate and eager was she.

He had sex with all these women, plus Kalyndra. Of the fertile Mariners, only Thalassa was left out; but she was a patient and gentle girl who was content to wait, knowing that Ezra would be back for certain.

At no time had he felt so much part of the tribe as now. Though he was shagging morning, noon and night, he didn't feel like a human drone but like a husband: a man with every intention of being a father to whatever children his bedmates conceived. He told Calliope his hopes and she was strong in her support: whether he had been inducted into the tribe or not, he was now a Mariner and always would be.

With just three days left of his visit to the Mariners, he was exhausted from his sexual duty and needed to rest. He took two days off from both sex and work, relaxing in the shade, taking a swim or wandering along the beach, always turning up on time for meals.

On the last full day of his stay, those who could be spared from their jobs went to the beach for a lazy day. They took tent-sunshades, food and drink. Ezra relaxed in the shade with the matrons while the children played noisily in the sand and most of his bedmates went into the sea for a splash. It was a delightfully erotic sight when some of the women returned, running up the beach.

Water dripped off Kalyndra's succulent breasts and down her curved body and strong thighs. Devon's sleek physique, with sculpted stomach muscles and shapely legs, was more angular. The elfin Cressi had a frizzy blonde mane and blond pubic triangle, round legs and pert breasts. Salema and Leanne stayed in the water.

Thalassa had a serene beauty, despite her young age, but her colt-like legs and tiny waist needed to fill out a bit before Ezra would properly consider her mature.

The women came and pestered him, Cressi and Devon first, the others behind. He hadn't chosen a bedmate for his last night with the Mariners and they wanted to know whom he would choose.

"It's impossible to choose between such gorgeous women; so why don't we do as we did a month ago and have a race? The winner will be my bedmate."

"That's not fair," Cressi started to say, knowing she was a slower swimmer than Devon.

"I'll make it fair. You can all start in your current positions. The first to the raft and back to me wins."

Salema and Leanne were already in the sea. Kalyndra and Thalassa were halfway down the beach and Cressi was next to him under the tent with Devon behind them, getting some water. The handicaps were almost perfect.

"Are you ready? Then off you go!"

The women set off and it wasn't until everyone had touched the raft that Devon and Cressi caught up with those who had a head-start. Then it was Kalyndra with a small lead over Devon, followed by Cressi, Thalassa and Salema a few yards behind. Devon had over-taken Kalyndra by the time they were in shallow enough water to stand up and run, where Kalyndra had an advantage. There was less than a foot in it between the front-runners, with Cressi five feet behind and Thalassa another two behind her.

Splashing out of the water and running up the beach, Kalyndra and Devon bumped, putting them both off their strides. They recovered, were neck-and-neck for a second and bumped again. This time they fell over, forming a mangled heap of legs and arms. Cressi was only a yard behind now. There was a wave of blonde hair and a flash of pink. Cressi had leapt over the stricken women, took four more steps and launched herself onto Ezra, who held the girl tightly to him to stop her bundling them both over.

With an exultant cry, Cressi announced, "I won! I won! Ezra's mine tonight. I won!"

Thalassa came next and also leapt on Ezra. He hugged the two lovely girls to him. Then the curvy Salema also finished and jumped on the pile. When Leanne arrived, Ezra was struggling under a pile of naked women; so Ferne had to tell them to get off the poor man and let him breathe. They reluctantly obeyed but Ezra didn't get much chance to breathe because the children who had been excluded from the fun leapt on him with screams and laughs as soon as he was free.

Ezra kissed them all, then sent them away because he had noticed that Devon and Kalyndra were still contesting a small patch of beach, each accusing the other of causing her to fall, rolling over each other, trying to pin each other down. From her current station atop Kalyndra, Devon had made to stand up but Kalyndra had grabbed her hair and pulled her back down. As Ezra approached, the laughing women fought and exchanged insults.

"See how she cheats, Ezra," Devon protested to him. "It's not fair. I would have won if she hadn't tripped me."

"I didn't trip you," Kalyndra replied: "You tripped me."

"You did trip me, you big-titted clumsy Amazon!"

"Frigid flat-chest."

"Slut!"

"Bitch!"

The women took to fighting again, pulling each other's hair and trying to sit on each other.

"Ezra, you are the judge, you saw her trip me." It was Devon who spoke, in a muffled voice, from under Kalyndra.

Ezra addressed the fighting women solemnly:

"Ladies! Is this an example to set the children? I refer to your language as much as to your actions!"

This made Devon and Kalyndra giggle.

"Well?" Ezra demanded.

They started speaking at the same time and somewhere in the babble of excuses were the words "Sorry, Ezra".

"I don't know which of you clowns is to blame because I didn't see who started it," Ezra said and continued more loudly when Devon sat up to protest, "but I suspect Kalyndra." Devon relaxed back down and pinched Kalyndra's bottom. Kalyndra gave Ezra an injured look and stuck her tongue out at him.

"Cressi is my bedmate tonight but you two deserve punishment. In a month or two, when I come back, I will teach you about behaviour proper to mature sensible women."

"Come to me, Cressi," Ezra commanded. She ran up to him and put her arms around him possessively. "You are mine tonight," he announced. The look Cressi gave the errant women was priceless; a little different from the look they gave her back, not to mention their hand-gestures.

Ezra wanted to go back into the shade and suggested Cressi might like to go and play with the children.

"I won't!" she said, clinging to him and pouting. "I won you fair and square and I'm going to keep you."

Ezra picked her up and threw her over his shoulder in a fireman's lift. She struggled so much, kicking in the air and pummelling his back with her fists, that he had to smack her bottom a few times to quiet her down. Then, accompanied by the laughing children, he carried her down to the sea, waded in up to his thighs and threw her into the water. The children splashed in at the same time and swam around Cressi, holding onto her and demanding she play with them. She gave up trying to follow Ezra back to the beach but played contentedly with the children for the rest of the morning.

Although Devon was still entangled with Kalyndra, the fight had gone out of her. She didn't respond to any of Kalyndra's goads or insults.

"What's wrong, Devon? You're not jealous of Cressi, are you? Let her enjoy her time with Ezra: he always comes back to us."

"Actually, he always comes back to you, Kalyndra; but I'm not jealous."

"Then what's wrong?"

"What did Ezra mean by a punishment?"

"Is that what bothers you?" Kalyndra asked, laughing. She lay back on the sand, putting her arms over her head to stretch, letting the sun worship her proud breasts. "Devon, I promise you, you'll enjoy it. The worst part will be the waiting."

"I've seen Ezra tie you up, Kalyndra, but I've never seen him punish you. How often has he done it?"

"Lots of times. It's fun and it really turns him on, so the sex is even better than normal."

"What will he do?"

"Whatever he wants. That's the joy. He takes charge completely."

"Won't it hurt?"

"You're thinking of Belena, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Well don't think of her. This is quite different. Belena was a Sadist. She was turned on by fear and pain. Ezra isn't a Sadist. He's just a man who likes to tie a woman up and do nasty things to her" - she smiled at her own statement and at Devon's uncomprehending look, then added - "just so long as she enjoys it as well. He wouldn't have any fun punishing me if I didn't have even more fun being punished."

"But there is pain?"

"Oh yes, but only until Ezra's decided I've had enough, which is never as much as I can really take. And, believe me, the more pain there is in the beginning, the more pleasure there is at the end."

"I think I see," Devon said. "I admit, I like the idea of being controlled but I don't like pain."

"Don't you?" Kalyndra asked and, with an evil grin, grasped one of her lover's nipples and gave it a hard squeeze. Devon stared at her friend but remained silent. Kalyndra then slowly twisted the nipple until it was half-way around. Devon shut her eyes and let her head roll back. Her tongue protruded from the corner of her mouth and she breathed out heavily. As Kalyndra slowly released the nipple, she patted Devon reassuringly and whispered in her ear: "Yes, you'll enjoy it. Trust me."

With Kalyndra smiling to herself and Devon thoughtfully quiet, the two malefactors got up and, holding each other by the waist, walked up to the sunshade to help with lunch.



Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 10



1   The three chiefs

It was a cautious meeting between the three tribes at the end of Ezra's visit to the sea-side; the first time in six years that the Woodlanders, Mariners and Herders had all traded together, just like they used to. The dozen Woodlanders who came to the meeting-place were wary but hopeful. They could smell the horses while they were still in the forest, where they left their bows and arrows, just in case.

As it was, they were needlessly cautious. Solange, chief of the Herders, came with only two of her braves and no weapons. Their trade goods were packed in saddle bags: a fourth horse towed a sled laden with cow-skins and bales of wool. They brought dried beef and mutton, sheep-stomachs filled with milk and tangy cottage cheese.

While the trading proceeded, the chiefs sat down to talk: Mirselene and Casti represented the Woodlanders, Calliope and Ferne for the Mariners but Solange sat alone for the Herders.

"Galatea is taking the herd to the southern camp," she explained, sharing out her milk and cheese. "We didn't think there was anything so serious to discuss that I needed my lieutenant with me. Or is there, ladies?"

"No, there's nothing serious," Mirselene assured her. "I'm pleased we're trading directly again, Solange."

"Of course you are, Mirselene. You're getting a big discount on what you previously paid for Herder and Cloner goods. It's Calliope who's losing out."

"I hear you've made generous terms with her, so that the Mariners don't actually miss out. I wonder why? Why now?"

"Because of Ezra, of course," Solange admitted. "Not because we want to take him from your two tribes but because the Cloners will want him. You understand that, don't you?"

"I do."

"Do you understand everything it means?" she persisted. "If they can't sell us human cloning, then they'll put up the price of all their other goods and animals, a price-hike I'll pass on to you both."

"I can see a period of adjustment after the Cloners lose their monopoly over new children," Calliope mused; "but I can't see how they can fix the prices of all their goods. Surely they'll have to sell us back some old-Earth goods. I'd like to have some synthetic clothes - or a mirror."

"Don't count on it, Sister," Solange warned. "The Cloners are wily. I'm closer to them than either of you and I know how they think. They've spent ages gathering up every piece of Earthside technology or old-Earth tool they can find and they won't be happy to sell them back to us. Expect a trade-war."

"Which will hit you as hard as any of us," Mirselene pointed out. "So, tell me, Solange: why do you seem to be taking our side and not siding with the Cloners?"

"I have my reasons."

"Which are?"

Solange appeared to change the subject.

"Have you met the new Cloner chief, Gloria?"

"Yes," said Calliope.

"Not since she became chief," said Mirselene.

"Well, she's young and she's been very friendly to us Herders but I think she's hiding something, something important."

"What?"

"My guess is: they're running out of cloning kits. Maybe our days are numbered on Samothea. ... I would expect a visit from the Cloners, Mirselene, and some strong interest in the Earthman."

"I hope you're wrong about the cloning kits," Mirselene agreed, "but I think you're right about a visit. The real question is, Why hasn't it happened yet?"

"Because I haven't given them any transport." Solange was almost boasting. "They could walk all the way here but the Cloners are lazy. They want a ride and I've not been inclined to provide one."

Despite herself, Mirselene was impressed with the Herder chief's insouciance.

"You risk annoying your biggest trading partner, Solange! You're playing a deep game. I hope you understand the risk."

"What's life without risk, Sister?"

While the chiefs talked, the tribeswomen made their exchanges peaceably, then sat down in the shade of the forest-edge to share their packed-lunches. The timid Woodlanders soon forgot the animosity that existed between them and the Herders. Gossip flowed freely, laughter rang across the plain and new friendships were forged.

Dipti and Annela (both very pregnant) had stayed in the camp but Ezra got to spend some time with Sharne, Dagma and, most importantly, Urulla.

"I'm going to break my promise to you again, Urulla," he said.

"No you're not."

"I'm sorry, but I am."

"You're not," she insisted, "because I won't let you."

"Urulla, I promised I'd return to the Forest Camp after visiting the Mariners but now I'm going off with the Herders."

"Oh, I know all that. It doesn't matter. You promised we'd be bedmates and so we will, next month or the month after, whenever you return. That's the promise I'm holding you to - and if you don't return, I'll come and find you and drag you back here."

"Thank you for taking it so well."

"I'll be twenty in six weeks. Come to my birthday feast."

"I prom..." He stopped and corrected. "I intend to be there."

She was satisfied with this and, with a sweet kiss on his cheek, let him go.

When it was time to leave, Ezra made his rounds, saying goodbye to all the Woodlanders and Mariners. The Herders loaded up the sled and fastened their saddle bags to the horses. They sat on blankets tied around the mares by a leather band with wooden stirrups attached.

Solange gave a whistle and her braves mounted their horses; but Ezra asked her:

"Can we walk?"

"We can, for a while, but we've got about fifteen miles to go, so we'll have to ride most of the way. Ash, Glynn," she called out. "You go ahead. Make us some dinner when you get there."

The Herder women kicked their horses and tramped down a path southward across the lush plain.

Walking between her mount and Ezra, Solange had an idea why he didn't want to ride. So, when they were a good distance from the meeting-place, she manoeuvred herself to the other side of the horse and let go of the reins. On cue, the mare lent over and licked Ezra's neck. He jumped and swore.

Solange laughed at him. She got on her horse.

"Come on up, Ezra. She can't bite or kick you if you're up here with me."

"Really?"

"Don't go soft on me now, Earthman."

She slipped her foot out of the wooden stirrup and offered it to him, saying:

"One foot in here. Come on."

She held out her arm and he pulled himself up. He sat behind her on the blanket, holding her by the waist.

"Now let me have my stirrup back and we're off."

She kicked the horse into a trot, forcing him to hold on tightly. She laughed at him again.

"How can a big man like you be scared of a little horse?"

"The beasts don't like me," he answered, plaintively, then he asked:

"Do you notice everything?"

"Noticing things is my skill. It's why the Herders elected me their chief."

"Elected? I assumed you strangled the previous chief and took her place."

Laughing, she kicked the horse into a canter. Though they were moving faster, it was smoother and Ezra relaxed a little. He still held Solange tightly around the waist, surprised at how slight the woman was. She was wiry and muscular but her waist was tiny.

As he sat behind her, though he'd had no thought of sex, pressing up against her body had an arousing effect and his cock grew hard. It pressed warmly against her back. He shuffled carefully backward and, noticing, she shuffled back to press against him again. He shuffled again and so did she.

"This game stops when you fall off the end of the horse," she said.

He pushed back against her, preferring to be embarrassed by his erection than fall off the horse.

She smiled and gave the mare her head for a few miles. When she slowed to a walk again, they were too far away from the Woodlander or Mariner camps for him to return easily. She could start testing him again.

"So, Earthman, are you going to overthrow me, the way you overthrew Belena?"

"I didn't overthrow Belena. The Mariners did."

"But you helped."

"I distracted her one night, to give the Mariners time to consult and to prevent a crime."

"What crime?"

"She was going to rape Thalassa."

"So that was it! The old bitch! I wondered why Calliope kept it quiet. I'm glad you told me, Ezra."

"I'm sorry I told you. I didn't realise Calliope wanted it kept secret."

"It's all right. It's just Calliope being over-protective. All new chiefs do it. They don't want anything to tarnish the image of the tribe. I won't mention it to her but it's important I know. It helps my decision."

"What decision?"

"Belena and I were close. She helped me when I was a new chief, four years ago. We were even bedmates for a while. But now I won't support her at the meeting of all the chiefs if she makes a complaint against Calliope."

He was pleased to learn that Solange had a moral sense. He hoped it would be something he could rely on because he was more and more thinking that the Herders would be instrumental to his plans.

Solange broke the silence again.

"What do you think of Samothea?"

"Well, I've not seen much of it but I think it could easily be a paradise."

"What are you talking about?"

"Samothea. So far, I've seen only the forest and the beach, but it's beautiful."

She laughed.

"I didn't mean Samothea the planet. I meant Samothea the girl. I saw you recognise her mother, Galatea, in the Mariner camp."

Ezra paused. There was no point in concealing.

"I didn't know her name was Samothea. I call her 'Wildchild.'"

"It's a good name. She's an odd girl: strong and proud."

"She is. I like her very much. I don't think you'll get her back."

"She's nearly eighteen. Soon she can ask another tribe to take her in. But we want Tamar back. She was still with Samothea, wasn't she?"

"Yes, but they're not in the Woodlander Camp anymore."

"I don't doubt it. I suppose they've gone to the White Mountains to seek Tamar's mother. Well, she won't find her."

"Why not?"

"The Miners left to live with the Cloners and the Farmers."

"How do you know that?"

"After Tamar and Wildchild absconded, I visited the Cloner City and learned the story. Here's the interesting thing. None of the Miners I saw there or among the Farmers looked like Tamar. I'm sorry to say, but I think her mother's dead."

"I hope not, but even if it's true, I don't think Tamar will want to return to the Herders."

"You are close to her, are you? She confides in you?"

"Not really, though I think she likes me."

There was a gap before Solange spoke again.

"You know who those girls are, don't you?" she asked.

"Wildchild and Tamar?"

"Yes, Samothea and Tamar. You know how important they are?"

"I've no idea. They haven't told me, nor did Mirselene or Calliope."

"I don't suppose Mirselene or Calliope know."

"Come on, Solange, why don't you say?"

"I will. Samothea and Tamar own most of Samothea."

"You mean Samothea the girl owns most of Samothea the planet?"

"Well, in fact, Galatea and Tamar own most of the inhabited part of Samothea; so Samothea will inherit Galatea's portion, as Tamar inherited her mother's."

"Explain, please?"

"It comes from the original settlement, when the land on this continent was first parcelled out. After the catastrophe, we organised into tribes but the Cloners have a law-speaker whose job is to remember the names of the original owners and their descendents. It so happens that the Cloner City was built on land Tamar's ancestors owned (including the farmland around it); and the plain we live on mostly belongs to Galatea."

"I see. It's very interesting, Solange, but does it have any practical relevance now? Do people still claim their property? Can they sell it? Are there rents to pay?"

"None of that, for the time-being. The tribes own their territories communally; but we all hope that the settlement of Samothea will re-start and the ancient boundaries will become relevant again. In which case, I want Tamar to be with a tribe who can protect her and her property."

"I see," he said cynically. "You're concerned for the girl's rights. It's very touching."

"Think what you like of my motives, Earthman, but don't get misled into thinking Tamar is better off away from those who brought her up. ... I'm glad you care for the girl. I hope you'll talk to her Herder mother. She misses the child."

"I will, of course."

Now it was Ezra's turn to question Solange.

"Do you really expect the settlement of Samothea to re-start anytime soon?"

"You tell me, you're the one who may have restarted it."

He remembered his second day in the forest, when Mirselene asked him whether it was likely other prospectors would find their way to Samothea, now that he had done so. Mirselene had seemed relieved when he explained that it was actually less likely anyone would follow him if no one heard from him in a year or so.

"No, I don't think I have. I don't think anyone else will be coming here from Earth in very a long while."

"That's a pity. Still, you may have saved us from extinction anyway. How many of your bedmates are pregnant?"

"Three, so far."

"Only three? Which ones?"

"Annela, Dipti and Sharne."

"That's good. I'd heard it was two. So what about the fat girl?"

"Solange!" he warned: "You know what I did before when you insulted my bedmates."

"That's right, Earthman, you stick up for the Wood-elves."

"Her name's Dagma and she hasn't told me she's pregnant."

"Well, you say I notice things so I'll tell you I think four of the Wood-elves are pregnant, you old goat!"

Ezra was getting used to Solange's insults and ignored this one.

"If you add the Mariners you bedded," she continued, "I think you're making a good start at reviving the colonisation of Samothea on your own."

They were silent for a time while Ezra absorbed this information. He wondered if Solange knew what a genetic bottleneck was. He also marvelled at how open she was, admitting that she wants Tamar back just because of the property the girl was heir to. He was thinking these things over when Solange spoke again.

"You know, Ezra, you can have sex with any of my sluts, except for Ash. She's mine. You have to ask my permission first."

"Your permission? Wouldn't I have to ask Ash's permission?"

"I think you're having a problem understanding the meaning of the word 'slut.'"

There was nothing to say to that and they rode the rest of the journey in silence. With a stop to pee and another at a water-hole for a drink, they finally reached the camp in late-afternoon.

2   At the way-station

It was a small way-station on a triangular spur of land where a stream, on its meandering course westward to the sea, cut out an island in the lush meadow.

There was a grassy platform with some small storage huts and a long wooden awning held up by wooden posts. Here the horses could shelter from the cold night-rain.

Two tents, one small, one large, had been erected in the clearing beside the huts, next to a small camp-fire. Three Herders pottered about, tending to the fire and cooking dinner. Their horses contentedly nibbled the meadow-grass or drank from the stream.

Solange steered her mare down the bank and into the knee-high water where she stopped.

"When did you last bathe?" she asked.

He thought back. It was yesterday afternoon in the Mariner Settlement, before dinner, since when he'd spent the night and that morning shagging Cressi. Then followed a long ride across the hot plain on a sweaty horse beside a hot woman. He could certainly do with a wash.

"A day ago," he admitted.

"I thought so," she said and reached down to grab his foot. She pulled hard upward and he fell off the horse sideways.

"You bitch!" he yelled as he splashed into the water.

"Have a nice bath," she called as she spurred her horse up the other bank and into the settlement.

He sat in the stream and decided he might as well wash himself and his clothes. He undressed and sank down into the clear warm water. A few minutes later, Solange appeared on the other bank, naked, thin and muscular.

Black and purple tattoos covered the brown skin of her arms and legs. The tattoos were in patterns: mostly lines, snakes and diamonds. Some were dotted around her neck and down her stomach and back. Only her buttocks and inner thighs were spared.

She walked calmly into the water and sat down next to him, unconcerned while he checked out her body.

"Wash my back for me," she said.

He grabbed some mud from the stream and rubbed it over her shoulders and back then washed it off. He repeated for her lower back but stopped at her bottom.

"Come on," she said, standing up. "Finish the job."

As he washed her buttocks, he said:

"Tell me about your tattoos."

"Ash does them. She likes to doodle after sex."

A normal woman would probably want to know if he liked them but Solange clearly didn't care what he thought.

"All right, I'm done. Now you," she said. "Turn around."

She washed his back, noticing the scratches and bites. Facing him, she ran her finger along a long red scar that crossed his chest.

"Who's responsible for these?"

"Cressi."

"That little blonde doll? Good for her. I bet she's fun."

"She has her moments," he said.

"So, who are you going to fuck tonight?" she asked.

"You, of course."

"Good choice."

He'd hoped to trip her up but it was clear nothing would faze this woman. To tell the truth, he liked her no-nonsense views on the world and even her aggression, which was mostly bluster. It was just a test to see if someone would stand up to her, after which she'd back down.

They'd done washing and she led him up the bank to the tents where the Herder women were waiting to start dinner. There were four: Ash and Glynn, who'd ridden to the trade-meeting with Solange, plus Hannah, an older woman, who looked after the camp that day.

The girls had made a simple dinner of a rich beef soup with pulses and beans which they mopped up with soft flat bread. They took their time eating. Glynn and Ash were chatty and playful. They were in their early twenties. Hannah was quieter and more serious. She was nearly forty, about ten years older than Solange.

"Tomorrow we'll ride down to the southern camp," Solange explained to Ezra.

"That's where most of us are at the moment, except for some out with the flocks and a couple tending to the dairy herd at the northern camp. Twice a year, we go the southern settlement for a month, to shear the sheep. The rest of the time, we drive the herd along the plain between the northern camp near the Cloner City and way-stations like this one."

"How far is it to the southern camp," Ezra asked, hoping not to have to sit on a horse all day.

"A day's ride: about thirty miles. It's another twenty or so miles after that to the mountains."

"Oh, joy!"

"You're a man, you can take it. ... Speaking of which, it's bedtime. You girls sleep in the big tent. Ezra and I will take the small tent."

"Solange, can we play with Ash?" Glynn asked.

"Sure you can."

"May we borrow your toys?"

Solange glanced at Ash and saw the edge of a smile on her lips.

"Go ahead," she said with relish. "Fuck her brains out."

In the tent, she had no nervousness or shyness in front of him. The bed was a leather sheet under a pile of thick woollen blankets laid on the floor. She undressed and lay down. She turned to face him, one knee raised, leaning up on her elbow, waiting for him to strip and join her. She hadn't spoken.

A few slaps and squeals from the other tent interrupted the silence. Solange smiled.

"Ash is enjoying herself," she said. "Now it's my turn."

Naked, he lay down next to her and she put her hand on his shoulder to pull herself close.

She kissed him. As he expected, she was a good kisser: firm and whole-hearted. She pressed against him and was pleased to feel his cock begin to harden as it had done against her back while they were on the horse.




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 10



It was cool in the tent and they were hot. Ezra lay on her, kissing down her body, tasting the skin of her flat chest, small nipples standing out proudly. Kissing along the muscles of her stomach, he worked down to her pussy. He pushed tight coils of thick black hair out of the way and put his tongue to her clitoris.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Licking your pussy."

"Why?"

"Well, some women like it."

"All women like it but that's what I've got Ash for. I want you to fuck me like a man should."

"How is that?"

"How would I know? You're the man. But not like a woman. What's a man's style of sex?"

"Apart from sticking my cock in you, much the same as a woman's, but rougher and harder."

"I like the sound of that. Fuck me rough and hard."

If she hadn't been winding him up all day, he might not have obeyed quite so literally, but if any woman had asked for it, it was Solange.

He lay heavily on her and roughly forced her legs further apart with his knees, then he pushed his hard cock against her pussy. He tried to push in but was stopped just inside her vagina. She was dry and tight. Also, Solange had clenched her pelvic wall muscles to make it as difficult for him as possible. It was another test: would he force himself into her?

He sucked hard on one tit and put his hand to her throat, choking her a little, trying to distract her into giving more access. Solange responded with heavy breaths and moans but she didn't relax her pussy muscles.

He withdrew and shoved in harder. Her clenched pussy muscles still constricted his entrance but he got in further. He withdrew and pushed back in once more, Now he was halfway in, she had no more defence, squeeze all she might. Then he was in up to the hilt and fucking her hard, loving her tight grip on his cock and marvelling at her strength.

He roughly turned her, so she was in a scissor position, one leg horizontal, the other vertical. He thrust harder, pulling her head back by her hair and rubbing his thumb on her clit.

Now he got some moans from her. She shut her eyes and succumbed to the delicious feeling of being fucked hard.

It was an energetic coupling, forceful, even callous, as when he pinned her down or rudely shoved her onto her front and fucked her doggy-style, pulling her arms behind her back.

She responded with passion, keeping up the rhythm. When he lay heavily on her, she wrapped her legs over his back and breathed hotly in his ear.

They ended like this, him on top, plunging into her flat on the floor, grunting with the effort, the ripples of her orgasm triggering his final moment, splurging his cum into her tight twat while she moaned out her joy.

He grunted with his last contraction and lay still.

She got back her breath, happily taking his weight.

"That was fun," she said, brightly.

"Glad you liked it."

"Let's do it again!"

"In a while. I need to recover."

"Really?"

"Really."

He pulled out and lay on his back. She leaned over and took hold of his cock.

"Oh, the poor little thing's gone soft."

"Give me half-an-hour."

"So sex with a man is fifteen minutes of frantic action and then you're useless to me for half-an-hour?"

"That's right."

"Interesting. Ash and I can fuck all night long and still be up for it in the morning."

"Good for you."

He sounded drowsy. She climbed on him, legs astride his waist.

"Come on, Ezra: no sleeping. I want to talk."

"Well I need a pee."

He always relieved himself after sex but there was no night bucket in the tent. He pushed her sharply off him and made to go outside.

"Where are you going? It's still raining."

"I know, but the stream will be warm."

"I'll come with."

The night-rain had slowed and now fell as large drops. Though they had been hot in the tent, the rain quickly cooled them down, so it was a relief to lie naked in the warm water of the stream.

Ezra was ready to go back to the tent but Solange had another test for him.

"How long can you stand out in the rain?"

"I don't know. I've never tried."

"Try now."

"What for?"

"I bet you can't stay as long as me."

It was a silly challenge but she goaded him into accepting it.

"All right."

They stood on the bank, arms by their sides, exposed to the freezing drops, which smarted as the rain landed on their heads and shoulders and ran in icy rivulets down their backs. Their breaths steamed in the cold air and they quickly began to lose their heat. Ezra thought he heard Solange shiver. He was trying not to shiver as well, forcing himself to stay out longer than her.

After five minutes, the cold was agonizing. Hunched over with folded arms, their teeth began to chatter. Another three minutes and it was becoming unhealthy. Another minute and Solange finally gave up.

"Shit!" she exclaimed and ran shivering into the tent.

Ezra waited half-a-minute to make his point, then ran in after her. Solange had wrapped herself in a blanket and was rubbing herself to get warm. He got into the blanket with her and they lay together, wrapping arms and legs around each other, rubbing their cold skin.

"God! That was stupid!" she said. "What were you trying to prove?"

"Me? It was your idea."

"Yes, but you didn't have to agree to it."

"I thought it was another one of your tests."

"It may have been. I test everyone. But how do you know what the test was?"

It was true: he had no idea what she was testing. Did he just prove he could endure more cold than her? So what if he could? Did he just prove he was foolishly competitive? Or did he prove that he would agree to any of her tests, however daft?

Ezra laughed at himself and pulled Solange onto him and kissed her. 

"Do you still want it?" he asked.

"Of course."

"Well guess what cold does to my cock? You'll have to warm it up again in your mouth."

This was something new for her. She was keen to give it a try and, with some guidance, did a good job sucking. Solange felt a sense of pride in getting him stiff just with her mouth. When he was full size again, she climbed on top and rode him slowly, giving herself a well-earned and gratifying climax. Then she turned around, faced his feet and, leaning forward to give his cock a delicious stretch, found just the right spot for herself and rode him faster this time. He struggled to hold off until she had come again, then he released joyfully, groaning and squeezing her waist tightly.

3   The southern camp

After breakfast, the herders started the long ride to the southern camp. To prevent the ponies tiring too much, Ezra rode with each of the four women in turn. He finished riding behind Glynn and was relieved when the journey was over. His bottom ached, his thighs were chafed and he was sure his balls would never work again. The girls seemed barely fazed by the gruelling journey.

The small party arrived in sight of the southern camp late-afternoon, descending from a small hill, casting eerie shadows over the short yellow grass that the herd had flattened on their slow trek across the plain. A hundred or more cows were dotted about the shallow valley: sleek and docile, they had shaggy red-brown hair with silly-looking fringes over their eyes.

As the riders approached the settlement, some of the cows looked up languidly but most took no notice, drinking placidly in the stream or lying contentedly chewing the cud.

Solange was proud of the cattle and rode beside Glynn to point out their virtues to Ezra.

"Look at their handsome faces," she enthused.

"What kind of cows are they?"

"Highlands."

"Why are they called that?"

"No idea. We don't take them into the mountains."

"They look hardy."

"They are. They don't care how cold it gets and can stay out in the rain all night. We lead them across the plain to find the best grazing; but they don't like it too hot during the day, so we never let them go far from water. Sometimes we take them to the forest-edge to cool down in the shade."

"Do you lose many to heat-stroke?"

"No, very rarely. There are so many small streams and springs on the plain. It's a very careless cowgirl who can't find water for the herd whenever they need it."

"Over there," she indicated a meadow across the stream where two women on horseback were using their spears as cattle-prods to guide six black-and-white cows into a fenced enclosure with a wooden shelter in one corner.

"That's one of our dairy herds. Friesian cattle. They're good for milk but not as tough. They always stay near the settlement and the girls gather them in each evening to shelter over-night."

By then, they were in the settlement. It had a ring of well-made huts around the camp-fire with a long wooden shelter for the horses on the far side of the stream. Uphill, toward the forest, were small tilled fields planted with potatoes, beans and maize. The forest, which supplied wood for the huts and the camp-fire, was only a few hundred yards away.

He counted at least ten women and five girls. The children were bathing in the stream. Everyone else was at work. He'd never seen so much bustle on Samothea. Horses were being stripped of their blankets and rubbed down. The dairy herd was in its paddock and no longer plaintively lowing its protest at being moved. Food was being prepared by the camp-fire.

The little troop stopped by a storage hut and began to unload their goods. Some nearby women came to help and pretty soon the horses had been stripped and led to the paddock to graze and drink.

Solange passed an expert eye over the camp and saw a few things that warranted her attention.

"Ezra, you're in with Ash and me," she said as she went to inspect the camp, gathering a small band around her. She was a good captain and didn't issue peremptory commands but asked each woman how she was getting on and thereby learned the tribe's problems.

She made a few suggestions and received appropriate replies. Satisfied, she had one more thing to say.

"Galatea, will you look after the herd while I take the girls to the mountain?"

"Of course, Solange. When will you go?"

"At the end of the week. Do you have any preference on who stays with you?"

"None at all."

"Good, then let's go to dinner."

Ezra had followed Ash into the hut. She prepared for the night by unpacking their clothes and rolling out thick woollen blankets onto the leather ground-sheets they would sleep on. Then she stripped and they went together to the stream for a wash.

Of all the tribes that Ezra had visited, the Herders were the least curious about him. Maybe they had been warned or maybe they were too busy, but they barely stopped their chores to look at him as he followed Ash down to the stream. The naked women bathing there greeted Ash and smiled at him but none stayed to talk.

The children were different though. There were five of them, aged four to fifteen (plus a one-year-old in her mother's arms). They were thrilled to meet an Earthman. Bold and curious, they introduced themselves and Ezra was happy to help splash them in the stream until everyone was called back to the camp for dinner.

With the chores done and the huts prepared, they took their places at a bench around the camp-fire, waiting to start dinner. It was time for Solange to introduce Ezra to the tribe.

"Stand up, Ezra. Let everyone see you."

He did so.

"Ladies, Ezra is our guest for a month. I know how warmly you'll welcome him and I know myself how well he responds to a warm welcome, so don't be shy. Come and say 'hello' and show him that the Herders know how to enjoy life."

There were appreciative comments and smiles all around.

"Girls, I want you to put on a show tomorrow, so Ezra can see our riding skills."

There was a cheer at this and lots of discussion, so the meal began with the same friendly hubbub as there always was when the women of Samothea sat down to dinner. Ezra sat between Solange and Ash, who managed to put her hand not-so-innocently on his thigh and rub it up and down.

"Welcome to the tribe," she purred in his ear.

"Leave him alone, Ash," Solange ordered, observing the movement out of the corner of her eye. "You'll get your chance later. When you're done eating, Ezra, why don't you tell us your story?"

Here was the usual request, which he expected and prepared for. It took an hour to tell the Herders about his life as a prospector, his good-bad luck in finding Samothea, what Earth is like, what the women there are like, what they wear, with even a few hints about sex.

It was dark now and the wind came up, so Solange declared dinner finished and the women began to make their way to the huts and tents for the night.

"You two go ahead," Solange said to Ash and Ezra, "I need to wash. Don't start without me, Ash," she added.

There was enough light to see her bedmate's face clearly but Solange couldn't tell if Ash meant to obey her or not. Smiling to herself, she stripped and headed down to the stream.

In the hut, Ash and Ezra cleaned their teeth and lay naked on the rugs on the floor, side-by-side. She turned to face him and pulled one of his arms over her waist and hooked a leg over his.

"This is how we stay warm," she explained.

"Of course. It seems the Herders don't care for beds," Ezra observed.

"No, we're used to sleeping on the ground under a tent with just a blanket. That's why bedmates are essential. They're not just for sex."

"And if no bedmate's available?"

"You mean out on the prairie or in the mountains? When it's freezing cold, you snuggle up with your horse or a cow or in a cave with the sheep. We're hardy folk, Ezra, and resourceful."

"I see that. It's very admirable."

Ash was a petite girl, cute rather than conventionally beautiful, she was nicely proportioned for a slim woman, with large black eyes, elegant neck, good-size tits high up on her chest, a flat stomach and a flat bottom. Her straight black hair went down to her bottom. Whatever she lacked in beauty, she made up for in eager and submissive sexuality.

He could smell her warm skin, which glowed gold in the light of the smoky tallow candle. He felt her hot breath on his neck. Her hair fell softly over them both and though it was getting cold waiting for her bedmate to join them, she didn't reach for the blanket but snuggled closer.

"So Solange had fun with you last night?"

"Yes, and this morning."

"She's good at fucking, isn't she?"

"Very good indeed, though it's an odd way to talk, like saying she is good at archery or sums."

"She is good at sums. I don't know about archery. Only the Woodlanders use bows and arrows."

Ash was clearly a literal-minded girl. She was also getting warmer as she gently rubbed her foot up and down his leg. He could feel the hard point of a nipple pressing against his chest as she reached up to put a hand on his face.

"You don't mind?"

"No, go ahead."

She ran her finger through his short scruffy beard.

"It's not as soft as I expected," she said.

"But this thing," she said, moving her hand down to his cock, "I'm told it won't stay soft for long."

She began to stroke his cock slowly.

"Weren't you told not to start without Solange?"

"Oh, she's always giving orders. Besides, I'm just keeping warm, I'm not starting anything."

This wasn't true. Ash was starting a fire but he was happy to let her do it. He lay back and tried in vain not to get too turned on.

Ash was pleased with the effect she was having and added kisses to her stroking, starting at his mouth and then pecking, bird-like, down his chest, ending up at his cock - now hard - which she kissed and then greedily sucked into her mouth.

"Oh God! Yes, that's good!" he said, though she hadn't asked if she was doing it right.

When Solange arrived at the hut, dripping from her bath, she pushed aside the curtain to reveal a perfect scene. There was Ezra, lying back, his eyes shut, with Ash on her knees between his legs, bobbing her head on his stiff cock, her bum sticking in the air. It was too inviting to ignore: Solange smacked Ash hard on the bottom.

"Ooh!" she exclaimed.

"Careful!" Ezra said, worried about the girl's teeth on his precious manhood. But Solange only laughed.

"I told you to wait for me."

Ash's reply was muffled, for obvious reasons.

"Leave his cock alone, girl, and speak clearly!" Solange ordered, slapping her bottom again.

"I said: I was waiting, I was just keeping us warm."

"What do you think of this saucy slut, Ezra?"

"I think she's charming."

"You would. All right, Ash, I guess you might as well carry on."

While Ash bent again to her task, Solange stowed her clothes and lay down next to Ezra. She kissed him, and Ash felt a surge of hardness in his cock. She used her hand now as well as her tongue and got Ezra bucking slowly. Solange had told her she'd love sucking cock and she was right.

Solange got up from kissing him and sat back. While the tallow candle lasted, she wanted to watch her lover and Ezra together. She reached over and gathered Ash's hair, which had fallen over her face and Ezra's legs, and pushed it to one side, Now she could see how enthusiastically Ash gobbled on his rod. It was a pretty sight. Ash began licking up and down Ezra's pole, from balls to tip, flicking her tongue from side to side.

Solange reached over again, this time putting gentle fingers between Ash's legs to fondle her pussy. It was wet. Ash responded eagerly to the touch, spreading her legs wider and arching her back.

"Ash, stop," Solange ordered.

The obedient girl sighed her disappointment.

"Turn around."

Ash was puzzled.

"Come on, this way."

Solange helped her climb onto Ezra in the classic sixty-nine position. The girl took to it immediately, slurping again at Ezra's cock while he licked her clitoris until she was moaning sweetly and hunched with a mini-climax. Then he pushed his tongue into her vulva. She loved it, pushing back to encourage him to explore further.

Solange didn't feel left out. Besides the pleasure of watching the others, she had a plan. While Ash sucked on Ezra's cock, she fetched her bag of toys from the corner of the hut. She took out an oddly-shaped wooden tool and a small wooden phial. The wooden tool was a double-ended dildo, which she smeared with oil from the phial.

Ezra lapped at the Chinese girl's pussy. Her wet arousal dripped down his chin. Turned on by them, Solange sat with splayed legs and fingered herself.

Loud groans indicated Ezra had reached the stage in his arousal before the liquid sensation and inevitable orgasm.

"Ash, stop!" Solange ordered again.

Ash disengaged reluctantly and looked at her lover. She saw the toy and smiled her lusty, sluttish smile. She knew exactly what to do.

Once again, Ash turned around. She knelt astride him and positioned his cock with her hand then pushed down to engulf it in her wet snatch. She was as tight as Solange but she wasn't resisting. She gasped as she pushed down and, with Ezra's hands on her waist, took him in all the way. She began riding him, feeling a beautiful stretch and giving him a joyfully tight rub.

Ezra raised himself to take a pretty round tit with brown nipples into his mouth. Ash's head went back and her back arched. He sucked on the other tit (reflecting the curious male idea that, if there are two of anything, both need equal attention).

She leant down to kiss him, tasting her own nectar on his lips and tongue. Then she felt Solange's fingers again, this time on her bottom. With fingers well lubricated with oil, Solange basted Ash's small tight hole. The girl sighed with pleasure. Solange rubbed more oil around the hole and penetrated it with an oiled fingertip, then two fingers, twisted sensuously around, making Ash shudder with anticipation, sticking her bum out.

Feeling her stop bucking, Ezra took over the work of thrusting up into her. He was aware that Solange was doing something. Then he saw the oiled double-ended dildo and understood. He looked at Ash to see what she thought and saw a greedy lustful look in her black eyes. He knew she was going to enjoy this.




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 10



Solange strapped on the toy and pushed it slowly into her own pussy. The protruding half was curved upward and had a bulbous end. With a few hard smacks to Ash's bottom as a punishment for disobedience, she knelt behind the girl, held her by the hips and prodded the oiled dildo at her hole. Ash shut her eyes and held her breath. Ezra lay still as well.

"Ready?" Solange asked but didn't wait for an answer. She thrust hard.

Ash gasped. The dildo had entered. She felt the usual burning sensation but it was a pleasurable, bearable pain. Solange pushed in further and Ash began pushing back, to envelope Ezra's cock and more of Solange's dildo. Now Ash was fucking both of them, thrusting her pelvis and loving the sense of being filled in both her holes.

"Good girl!" Solange said and put a hand down to get the right angle for herself with the toy.

Ezra could feel the rub of Solange's toy within Ash's body against the underside of his cock. This curious sensation was new to him. It was a real turn-on.

Penetrating the hot willing girl in unison, Solange and Ezra took over the rhythm. Ash's gasping moans rose in pitch, a squeaky exhalation and screech of pure joy as she reached a fulfilling peak.

She went silent for a minute while the others continued fucking her. Then she convulsed and shook again. Still the others continued their synchronised fucking, bringing Ash to another pleasurable peak.

They changed the rhythm, taking turns to thrust. Ash shook her head, moaning deeply. She didn't think she had any lust left to enjoy this variation but she was wrong. She stuck her nails into Ezra's shoulders when she came again with her hardest orgasm so far, the aftershocks hunching her back.

Now it was Ezra's turn. He held off as long as he could but the rhythmic clamping of her pussy on his cock set him off and he grabbed Ash by the hair, kissing her hard as he spurted his load up into her.

Ash shook with another mini-climax as Solange removed the toy excruciatingly slowly from her bedmate's bottom, then the two girls lay in a hot pile on top of Ezra to sleep.

There were chores to do next morning. Given the choice of helping with cooking, mucking out the stables, collecting firewood from the forest or milking the dairy cows, Ezra chose to assist the milkers.

The women drew off the milk into buckets which he helped pour into old skins (to keep as milk) or new skins (to turn into cheese) or into wooden cups for those setting the long breakfast table. He even had a try at milking, to the amusement of the milkmaids, nor was he entirely useless at it.

After breakfast, the Herder women put on a horse-riding display in the paddock. They were truly skilled horsemen. Even the least-adept stood on their mounts or rode backward. Some made their horses stand rampant or walk sideways and backward. Others jumped wooden stiles. Ezra's favourites were those strong agile girls who did hand-stands on their ponies and other gymnastic feats.

The best of these was a lithe flexible brunette of twenty-two, called Megan, whose display began with a handstand. She then brought her legs down into a perfect splits, which she maintained as she walked on her hands from the neck of the horse to its rump. Then she stood up, did a one-handed cartwheel along the horse and landed astride its neck. Facing backward, she steered her mount fast around the arena and jumped the fence to exit.

"That was wonderful!" Ezra applauded when the performance was over. "You women are amazing."

"Whom did you like best?" Solange asked.

"Is it fair to ask me that?"

"Of course, the Herders are strong women, they don't care if you have favourites."

"All right, then. Megan was the most gifted, I think."

"Good choice. Megan Herder, I want you to teach Ezra how to ride."

She was clearly pleased with the task but Ezra was not so happy.

"Why do I need to learn to ride?"

"It will make it easier for us to get about. Don't worry, you already know how to sit on a horse. It will take only a day to learn how to steer her. We don't need you to do handstands. Megan will teach you well."

He still feared what a horse might do if he was alone on it but he realised it was silly to be scared of horses when all the children could ride and none were afraid. He nodded his agreement.

"Penny!" Solange called out to a tall woman aged about fifty, with large shoulders and grey hair. She turned to her chief.

"Penny, I'd like you to be one of those who stays in the camp when we go to the mountains."

The women looked displeased, even distressed.

"What about Vera?" she asked.

This was her daughter, presently looking after the flocks on the southern mountain. Penny had not seen her in months.

"I'll send Vera back."

The crestfallen woman could only nod. Staying in the southern camp meant only work and lonely extra days waiting for her daughter.

"Will you lend Ezra your horse?"

This was the reason: as the biggest Herder, she had the largest and strongest horse; ideal for Ezra.

Again, there was a moment of resistance from Penny. Ezra then saw the best side of Solange. He had seen her aggression, her bluster and her desire to test him. He also thought he understood her humour, which overlapped with these characteristics. But now he saw her charm.

With kind words and a firm hand on the big woman's shoulder, Solange persuaded Penny to give up her horse. There was the promise of maybe getting a granddaughter from Vera and Ezra, should they have time to be together, but it was Solange's charm that actually persuaded the reluctant woman.

Penny invited Ezra to come and get acquainted with her horse. Urged by Solange, Megan skipped happily after them, ready to start his lessons.

"What's her name?" Ezra asked Penny.

"Whom?"

"Your horse."

"Why would a horse have a name?"

"Sorry, I just thought ... horses have names on Earth."

"Do they?"

Penny wasn't being rude: she just missed her daughter and didn't know what to say to the Earthman who was keeping them apart. Megan was a chatty girl, however, and filled in the gap, asking how come Ezra couldn't ride if they had horses on Earth. He fumbled an answer but it had broken the ice and started her off. While Penny went to fetch her tackle, Megan quizzed him on all his adventures on Samothea, his life on Earth, the other planets and settlements.

He barely had time to answer a single question before Penny returned and led them to her horse, a tall jet-black mare with a long mane and large haunches, grazing in the meadow by the stream. She looked up when Penny approached but she took no notice of the others. Ezra patted her, as instructed, and was pleased she was so placid.

Solange had chosen well. She was a large strong horse but also docile and good-tempered. She happily received the bridle, blanket and stirrups and even had no quarrel with Ezra who (after some coaxing by the women) climbed onto her back.

Megan then tied a long rein to the bridle and led them to the paddock, where she began the lesson, overlooked by the few Herders who had no pressing work and all the children. Ezra trotted in a circle around his teacher, who held the long rein more for his assurance than for any good it would do, should the mare feel like bolting or throwing him off.

By the afternoon, Megan had persuaded him to ride out with her onto the plain, where he could really learn. They stayed out three hours and, having learned to canter, Ezra lost his fear of the horse and instead gained a fear of travelling at twenty miles-an-hour on the back of an unstable animal. He gripped tightly and pretended to enjoy the thrill; yet, when they returned, he was genuinely more confident than he had ever been.

He again spent the night with Solange and Ash. He spent his load in Solange's tight twat, while Ash sat on her face. As he recovered, the girls took out their toys to play some more. They were completely open and unashamed about anything to do with sex and when they emptied the sack of sex-toys on the blanket to choose one, it answered a question he had been reluctant to ask.

"Ah, so that's how it's done," he said.

"How what's done?" Solange asked.

"Sorry," he said, "I didn't mean to say it out loud."

"Well, you did, so now you have to tell us what you're talking about."

"All right. I was wondering how come your pussies are so tight. Now I can see."

"Ha! You mean these toys. Well, you're right. Come on Ash, let's show him."

She brandished some tapered wooden dildoes, thick at the handle and thin at the tip, some with ridges, others smooth. Smiling, Ash squatted as Solange licked one of the ridged dildoes and pushed it into the girl's snatch, holding it there a second.

"Ready?" she asked.

"Yes," said Ash.

She gripped tight and Solange let go of the dildo. It stayed in place for some seconds, then began to fall out slowly as Ash relaxed.

"Come on Ash, you can do better!" Solange encouraged. She pushed the dildo back in.

The girl tried again, closing her eyes as she squeezed hard, bunching her stomach muscles. She kept the toy in for almost a minute before having to relax.

"Good girl!"

"I'm impressed," said Ezra.

"Solange is better than me," Ash said. "She uses the thin ones. They don't stay in unless you really squeeze tight. Sometimes I put weights on them to make it even harder."

"Not that I'm complaining," he said, "but why do you do it?"

Solange answered.

"It makes our orgasms better."

By this time his sex-drive had rebuilt, so while Ash knelt down and toyed Solange with a ridged dildo, Ezra knelt behind her and fucked her doggy-style.

Next day, Megan took him for a long riding lesson. They headed out onto the plain, following the trail left by the herd as it raised dust along the zigzag course of a lush valley in search of good pasture.

They began at a trot, so they could talk. He began by answering the questions Megan put to him yesterday, when he'd had no time to reply.

"You remembered!" she said, pleased by his thoughtfulness.

They had turned away from the valley before they caught up with the herd and were soon alone on the veldt.

Though it was still morning, the sun beat down mercilessly. Ezra was pleased he'd kept the hat that Althea had made for him in the Mariner camp. It was a leather skull-cap with a peak and a cloth curtain around the back. It looked stupid but it kept the sun off his neck. When she first saw it, Solange laughed, saying:

"Are you really going to wear that?"

"It's better to look ridiculous than to get sunstroke."

"Are you sure?" she said.

In contrast to his unfashionable attire, Megan had on a very fetching short leather jacket, a short leather skirt and a wide-brimmed leather hat. Clearly, the Herders had lots of leather, though the children seemed to be dressed in a mixture of badly-knitted woollens and ancient synthetics.

The green plain stretched out before them to the mountains, while the horizon to their right was a long white cloud over the ocean. The forest, a high wall to their left, was pale grey and blue-green in the shimmering air. Around them was a sea of grass.

Megan had the inexpressible good-to-be-alive feeling of every young fit animal. She needed an action to express her joy at the beauty and freedom of the boundless savannah.

"Come on, Ezra!" she cried. "Let's get some wind in our hair!"

She spurred her horse to a gallop. Holding on as tightly as he could, Ezra tried to follow. He found it easier to stand in the stirrups, leaning over the horse's neck, but he couldn't catch up with Megan, whose hair was flying backward in the wind as she streaked away.

Five minutes later, she slowed to a walk and let him catch up. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

"I could ride forever!" she exclaimed. "Don't you feel it Ezra?"

"I feel my sore arse and thighs," he said, growling.

She laughed at him.

"You'll heal; but isn't it beautiful?"

"Yes, it's wonderful. It's serene, like a grass ocean."

"I guess sailing on a calm sea might be like this," she said.

They were comfortably at peace with each other and the world, breathing in the hot dry air, smelling the rich verdure and following the circling flight of eagles riding the thermals in the far distance.

The only sound was the clip-clop of the horses and the occasional pee-yoo of a feathered hunter, calling over the savannah to her mate.

They rode a few miles in silence. He couldn't help admiring his companion. She was a good teacher and a friendly girl. It also helped that she was pretty. Middle-height, athletic with long straight brown hair, dark blue eyes the same shade as his, elegant features and strong legs. Her midriff was bare. He could see the sculpted outline of her stomach muscles. She even showed some tempting cleavage, though her clothes were made for comfort, not to captivate men.

He hoped she would be his bedmate sometime this month and was about to make the suggestion when she pre-empted him.

Megan hadn't shown all her gymnastic tricks on horseback yesterday but kept a special trick back for today.

She brought her pony alongside his, tied her reins to his saddle bag and stood up. She hopped from the neck of her horse onto the rump of his, daintily walked around him, turned on tip-toes and sat down to face him, crossing her legs over his back.

She put her arms around his neck and pulled herself in for a kiss. Ezra held the svelte girl to him as they kissed, his hand on her back, massaging the muscles of her spine.

She pressed her pussy against his erection as the horse led itself at a walk. Passion increased and Ezra put his other hand under her skirt to finger her. She moaned loudly and bucked her pelvis. He flicked his thumb over her clitoris and finger-fucked her until she came, holding him tightly, breathing hotly in his ear and whimpering.

It was his turn. He pulled his stiff cock out of his trousers. She pushed herself up and sat back down again, engulfing his pole in her wet slit.

They fucked slowly as the horse wandered aimlessly. Megan did all the work at first but then she told Ezra to kick the mare into a trot. The rougher bouncing of the horse gave them a very effective fucking motion, as they held each other and kissed.

After this, Ezra was completely comfortable on horseback and didn't need any more riding lessons. When they got back to the camp, Solange met them at the paddock.

"Well, Earthman, was I right?" she asked.

"About what, Solange?"

"About life on the savannah."

"Yes, you were right. I don't know anything more beautiful or serene."

She had also seen a sparkle in Megan's eyes.

"And was I also right about my sluts?"

"Yes, Solange, you were right about your sluts."

She gave him her 'I told you so' smile and helped them with their saddle-bags.

That night, he shared a hut with Megan and three other young women.

The Herders stayed five days in the southern camp, making preparations for the mountain camp and the six-monthly task of shearing the sheep. During this time, Ezra saw how different the Herders were from the other tribes he'd so far met.

One difference was in regard to bedmates. Apart from Solange and Ash, who were not exclusive, there seemed to be no regular pairs but when the women had sex, everyone in the hut or tent took part. Huts and tents usually slept four, so what Ezra came to think of his nightly orgies were usually with three women at a time.

Another difference was how quarrelsome the Herders were. He'd never seen so much squabbling. True, there were no actual fights (though some women sported scratch marks), but there was lots of bitchiness and name-calling. At the same time, the Herders were always laughing and those who fought also quickly made up. Only once did he see a Herder woman pack her bag and leave her hut to stay in another.

It contrasted with the quiescent Woodlanders, who had the authority of Mirselene, the wisdom of Casti and Annela's pacifying influence to smother all disputes and mollify the aggrieved. As for the Mariners, their society had recently been split by conflict and was now united under a temporary chief. During Calliope's honeymoon period, they were perhaps the most peaceful tribe on Samothea; but he couldn't say if it would last.

4   The southern mountains

At the end of the week, Solange led ten of the women and the oldest children to the southern mountains, leaving Galatea and a small group behind to tend to the dairy herd and drive the cattle out to pasture. Her party rode fast, leaving Ezra behind 

Having gone more slowly than the others (and enjoyed a sexual detour for an hour), Megan and Ezra trotted into the camp in the foothills of the southern mountains many hours late.

It had been a gentle climb to a plateau under the steep slopes of the mountain. Animal tracks criss-crossed the fields, where the grass was nibbled short by white sheep who dotted the hill-side.

The camp was small, with a shelter nearby for the horses and a large pen outside for the flock. There were small storage-huts but the tribe slept in tents. Four of them were pitched in a square against the sheltered leeward edge of the hill. Water was provided by a mountain stream, which channelled melt-water from the snowy peaks via the edge of the camp into a shallow lake, thence onto the plain and westward, toward the sea.

They were greeted with knowing smiles and some vulgar but friendly remarks by the women who came out to help unpack the horses and get them under the shelter. Then it was dinner-time.

There were four new Herders for Ezra to meet. These were the shepherds who served three-month shifts with the flock, making sure the stupid beasts didn't stray too far away or get caught in a crevice. Lambs might also be taken by eagles, so the shepherds watched the skies and were ready with their sling-shots.

It was easy work but sometimes lonely out in the hills, so the women took turns as shepherds and always looked forward to seeing other members of the tribe when they came to the mountain camp to shear the sheep. This was the purpose of the current visit.

It was decided over dinner that Ezra would share a tent with Megan and two of the shepherds, Vera and Lorna. This was because Vera was going to be sent back to the southern camp soon. She had to be given her chance.

Dinner was quickly over but when Ezra told Megan he wanted to wash before bed (he smelled of horse, his own sweat and their combined juices) she assured him it was all in hand. Because the mountain water was too cold to bathe in, the shepherds filled water-bladders in the morning and left them hanging on the tents all day to warm up. Then they used the water to wash in the evening.

Led by Megan and pushed by the other women, Ezra was bundled into the tent. He went along with whatever they had planned for him, even when they began to strip off his clothes. He saw what they were after when they filled buckets of water and began to sponge him down. There was the usual fascination with his cock, his balls and his chest-hair.

When it was the girls' turn to wash, he lent a hand. Sweet little Megan was ticklish and easy to make laugh, which set off the others. Lorna, aged thirty, was fair and curvy, with wide hips and big tits. Ezra gave them a much more thorough clean than they needed but she enjoyed the attention. As for Vera, she was in her late-twenties. Tall and strong with broad shoulders, big thighs and big hands. She also had large tits with huge nipples.

There was a lot of Vera to wash, so all three of them went to it enthusiastically, taking a leg or a side each or bending the girl over and giving her intimate parts a sensuous clean. Though it was still fun, they had stopped laughing. Other emotions were coming to dominate.

Lorna started the orgy. She finished cleaning Vera and began rubbing the girl's clitoris with her fingers. Then she knelt down and began using her tongue, while Megan put her own tongue to good use on Ezra's cock. There was a lot of giggling, sighing, a few spanks and some sensuous squelching; then it was too dark to see who was doing what to whom. The orgy ended with Ezra on his back and Vera astride him, riding them both to a climax; meanwhile Lorna and Megan were having fun of their own, rubbing their pussies together and moaning loudly.




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 10



Besides orgies most nights, three significant things happened to Ezra during his stay at the mountain camp.

The first was meeting Tamar's adoptive mother, Judith. She was one of the shepherds and, with unexpected delicacy, Solange arranged for her to meet Ezra beside the sheep-pen, where they could talk privately.

"Solange told me you've met my daughter, that you've news of her," Judith said.

"I'm pleased to say Tamar is a friend of mine. She helped rescue me when my ship crashed and brought me to the Woodlanders. You should be very proud of the way you raised her."

"I am."

"But did Solange tell you that she and Wildchild have gone to the White Mountains in search of her real mother?"

He didn't try to disguise the truth or soften his words.

"She did and though I don't fully understand what drove her to leave, she's still my daughter and I want her back. Did she say anything about me, was it my fault she left?"

"Tamar said nothing at all about you and nothing derogatory about any of the Herders, except she feared how they might punish her if she was caught."

"I don't think Solange will punish her now; but did she really say nothing about why she left? Did no one drive her away?"

"She never said anyone drove her away but only what called her to leave. It's not your fault, I'm sure, though I understand you may feel rejected."

"Rejection is painful, but it's my fault. I deserve it; and it's nothing compared to feeling that my daughter might be unhappy, or in danger, or hurt."

"She's brave and resourceful. So is Wildchild. There's also a third girl with them, a Woodlander. All the Woodlanders believe the girls are safe and will come back successful."

"Successful?"

"I know Solange thinks her mother is dead but the girls don't believe that."

Judith looked down. He was reassuring and disturbing at the same time.

"Come back where?"

"Judith, I'm sorry to tell you, Tamar allowed herself to be adopted into the Woodlander tribe. I don't think she means to come back to you at all."

"She must hate me."

There was a pause between them.

He spoke softly:

"Can I ask you a difficult question?"

"You want to know why I took her?"

"Yes."

"I don't know. I saw her, a helpless bundle in the arms of a woman dressed in rags with dirt on her face. I felt sorry for her. She was so small and so beautiful. I loved her at once and I took her. I couldn't help myself. Do earth women never do it?"

"They do: baby-snatching one of the few crimes only women commit."

"I know I did wrong but, at the time, all I could see was a daughter I couldn't have myself. I reasoned afterward that the other woman didn't really love her, or not as much as I did. I pretended - we all pretended - we'd done Tamar a favour, giving her a better home, a stronger tribe to belong to; but I was lying. We all were. I even thought of taking her back but our chief at the time forbade it."

"Judith, is there anything I can do?"

"Only, when you see her, please tell her I miss her and want her back, that I don't blame her, that I will always be her mother, if she'll let me."

"I will."

The second significant thing was shearing the sheep, an operation that involved most of the available women. The animals were rounded up a dozen at a time and driven down the mountain into the pen. Here a woman with ancient steel shears clipped off their woolly coats before releasing them to run back up the hill. Vera was one of the shearers who took turns with the only pair of shears in the tribe.

She called Ezra over and showed him how to do the job. The skill was to keep the sheep from fighting back by cutting carefully and working quickly. He started quite well but accidentally nicked a bit of skin and had to struggle against an enraged beast. He gave the shears back and held the animal while Vera quickly finished.

Ezra was in a quandary. His laser-knife would be perfect for this task but he didn't want to reveal its existence to the Herders before he could be certain they had no aggressive ambitions toward the other tribes. He had seen how much they squabble and bitch among themselves, though he'd not yet seen any actual fights; but he remembered how much Wildchild and Tamar feared the Herders, so maybe he'd seen only the tribe's good side. On reflection, he decided not to show the Herders his laser-knife.

The shearing was over and the tribe could relax. Vera was sent to be with her mother and Ezra asked Megan to take a day off and go for a ride with him. This was the third significant thing that happened.

"I want to visit the ocean," he explained. "How far is it?"

"About twelve miles," she said, "if we follow the mountains, which end in cliffs over-looking the sea. If you just want the beach, though, I know a good spot about fifteen miles away."

This suited his plans. He wanted to explore north along the coast.

"Do you think we can ride forty miles in a day?"

"Yes, if you want."

"Good. Will you come?"

"I expect so ... and I'll go for a ride with you."

Early next morning, they headed straight across the plain and reached the coast five miles north of the cliffs, where the long crescent of the beach began, the same beach that led to the Mariner Settlement, about sixty miles further on. His sunken ship lay on the sea-floor somewhere between the two points.

Megan wanted to splash in the sea, so they hobbled the horses, stripped off and plunged into the warm ocean. Lying on the beach to dry off, it was Megan who made the first move. With questing hands and a soft mouth, she soon got a rise out of him. She climbed on top and rode him, bringing them both off together at a gallop, tits shaking and hair flying wildly.

Afterward, it was time to eat lunch and move on. They rode about ten miles along the beach. Ezra searched for any feature he could remember, but the landscape was unfamiliar to him.

In mid-afternoon, Megan said it was time to turn back. She hadn't asked why he wanted to visit the ocean or ride along the beach, though it was clear he'd been looking for something. She assumed he'd not found it.

They got back in the early evening and went straight to bed. It was the first night in the mountain camp that he hadn't taken part in an orgy.

Next day Solange invited him for a walk in the mountains.

It was an hour to the snow-line, along paths of loose and crumbly rock, where over-hanging crags loomed menacingly, fringed by mad crystal fingers of ice - rain-water that froze over-night and slowly melted away during the day. The air was crisp and sweet and the views down to the camp and over the plain were breath-taking. Above them, eagles circled.

"Well," she opened, "are you going to tell me why you exhausted one of my horses just to visit the sea-side?"

"No. ... Are you going to tell me why you arranged for me to talk to Judith but have kept Galatea and me apart?"

"No."

"Well, then?" He waited.

"All right. ... Judith needed comforting. I hoped you'd be kind to her. As for Galatea, she won't forgive Samothea, whom you will defend, and if she starts a row with you, you may leave. Now your turn."

He paused. The fact that Solange was open and frank didn't mean she was telling the truth.

"I'm not ready to tell you yet," he said, "but I do want to tell you something else, about how I cannot start the re-colonization of Samothea on my own."

"Go on."

"Do you know what a 'genetic bottleneck' is?"

"No."

"It happens when too many people in a population have similar genes, including abnormal or harmful ones. When there's a lot of genetic diversity, harmful genes can be suppressed: where there is too little genetic diversity, harmful genes become a problem. Ideally, if I have sons and daughters, they should never mate (and, on the part of Earth I come from, it would be illegal for them to mate)."

"I see. But if you're all we have and the Cloners really are running low on cloning kits, then what choice do we have?"

"None, unless more men come from Earth."

"Which you say is unlikely."

"Yes. But you hinted you knew why Mirselene thinks more men from Earth would also be unwelcome. Why is that?"

"I guess Mirselene thinks that if more Earthmen come, then they will simply take over. They'll break up our tribes, steal our lands and live like kings, using us as slaves."

"Of course they won't! Women aren't property on Earth (or not in my part of it)."

"Really? If I were a man, I'd take my pick, like you do. Besides, they wouldn't need to kidnap and force a woman: we'd give ourselves willingly."

"I doubt it."

"You doubt it? How many Woodlanders have you slept with?"

"Four, so far."

"How many Mariners?"

"Six, ... er, I mean seven."

"And how many Herders?"

"I don't know."

There had been so many night-time orgies - and so many different women in the orgies - that he had no idea whom he'd fucked.

"Ten, Ezra, ten; or so they tell me. Now, how many have you taken by force (not including me, of course, because I goaded you into it)?"

"One; but she goaded me as well."

"And did she reject you afterward?"

"No, the opposite. She vowed to follow me."

"So you've already got twenty-one willing concubines and you've not even met the Cloners. So don't tell me the Earthmen wouldn't make slaves of us all."

It revolted him to believe it was true.

"In my case, it's just the 'rare male effect;'" he explained, "a well-known phenomenon in biology. If there were more men, you women would be much choosier."

"Maybe, maybe not, but that's what Mirselene thinks. I have my own ideas on the matter."

She didn't say what they were, though, and he needed some time to think through what she said. They walked in silence back down to the camp and sat apart at dinner, brooding and contemplating.

5   The final test

In the last week of his stay, Solange took Megan, Ash and Ezra on an expedition into the mountains.

They were looking for an easy passage through to the southern plain. Walkers could climb straight over the crags and some of the nimblest riders could manoeuvre their way through but the majority of horses would baulk at the narrow paths and too many of the clumsy cattle would be lost down crevices or trampled by a panicking herd. Ezra's knowledge of geology and his prospecting skills made him an ideal addition to the expedition.

After a day's ride, they pitched the tent on bare ground below the snow-line, where a small mountain stream trickled into a natural pool. This would be their camp. They ate dinner and settled down for the night. Ezra was weary from having so much sex and was happy the girls wanted just to huddle to stay warm.

Next day, they set off to find a track in a hanging valley they had seen last year. It had been wide enough for a pair of horses but too precipitate for cattle; but it was a good place to start searching.

The track no longer existed. Soft volcanic rock had collapsed to rubble and half-filled the valley. They left the horses and climbed the nearest peak for a look around.

"If only I had some dynamite and a bulldozer," he said, "then I could make you a road wherever you wanted."

"Wherever?" Solange asked.

"Well, more or less. I could build it right there," he said, pointing to the next valley. There was a deep cut between their own tall peak and next flat one. Passage was blocked by a wall of rock that had clearly collapsed from the mountain.

"I'd blast the large rocks to fragments and bulldoze them flat to make a smooth surface. The whole road would be below the snow-line."

"Could we do it by hand?"

"Not a chance, not even with the help of the horses."

"Well, we'd better keep looking."

They rode on until the morning sun had burned off the mountain mists and the central spine of the mountains was clearly visible.

"Do you want to see the southern plain?" he was asked. "I expect we'd get a good view from the next peak."

This was interesting. They rode as far as they could and then climbed on foot. The view was worth it. They breathed deeply and stared out at the blue-grey horizon.

It was when they reached the base camp again that he discovered that the expedition was just a pretext, a ruse to get him into the mountains.

As Ezra dismounted his horse, the women took their lassos and threw them over him, pinning his arms to his sides. He thought it was a joke at first and laughed, saying "Very funny."

When they pulled the ropes tight and he fell to the floor, he was less amused.

"Come on, let me go."

"No," said Solange, as she knelt behind him. "Not yet."

She slipped coils of ropes over his wrists and fastened them behind his back, leaning on him to get a purchase.

"Ow! Shit. What are you doing, Solange?"

"We're kidnapping you, Earthman. We're keeping you as the property of the Herders."

"Bollocks, you are!"

By now his feet were tied together as well and he was fully trussed up.

"Curse as much as you like, Ezra, we're good at knots. You're staying with us."

The girls manhandled him into the tent.

"I'll keep an eye on him," Solange ordered. "You girls go and sort out the horses."

She sat down to watch him. He lay on the cold floor of the tent, fuming and cursing.

"Damn you, bitch! Do you really think you can keep me here forever?"

"Not forever, of course," Solange said. "Only a little while; then you'll co-operate and we won't need to restrain you."

"Bollocks to that," he repeated. Then, a little more calmly:

"Come on, Solange, tell me what this is really about."

"We're keeping you with us to stop the greedy Cloners getting hold of you."

"I don't believe you."

"You should. The Cloners certainly want you."

"So what? Everyone knows I'm here. You can't hide me."

"We can, if we take you to the south side of the mountains."

"What good would that do you?"

"None, until we move the entire tribe to the southern plain. Then we will have just as much pasture and you all to ourselves."

"Just for one man? This is ridiculous. What about new cattle from the Cloners. What about the produce of the Farmers, Woodlanders and Mariners?"

"Is it ridiculous? Samothea has no future without a man and you are the only one. When the cloning kits run out, the other tribes will have to come to us; then we'll have the whip-hand. Do you think, if the Cloners got you, they would ever let you go?"

"How can they stop me? And how did you think your own plan would work? You can't tie me up for the rest of my life. Nor will I fuck any more Herders when you treat me like this."

"Really? I think women can be very persuasive, especially young pretty ones."

"I don't believe you," he repeated. "I think this was another test: one that's going disastrously wrong for you."

"Wrong?"

All this time, Ezra had been squirming in his bonds. Solange thought it was frustration but it was something else.

Because he didn't completely trust her, Ezra had kept his pen-knife hidden in a side pocket of his trousers. By squirming, he managed to get a finger on the knife and ease it out into his hand. He turned it on.

"Yes, disastrously wrong!"

He burned through the wrist straps, sat up and brought the blade under his ankle bonds, ready to cut through them.

By now, Megan and Ash had returned to the tent and were standing beside their chief. When Solange saw Ezra's hands were free, she made the mistake of pouncing on him again. He instinctively lashed out, sweeping an arc of red laser-light that sliced through the ropes and hit the three women.

He caught Megan on the arm and grazed Ash on the chest but the blade stuck against Solange's waist, scorching and burning. He switched it off immediately but the damage was done. Solange looked down at the bubbling scar on her side and fainted. Megan and Ash held their wounds and screamed.

The damage from the laser-blade was much less severe than the pain, which was excruciating. An acrid smell of burning flesh filled the tent. Ezra looked around and saw a water-bladder. He grabbed it and poured it over Solange's waist. Shouting to Megan and Ash to get water, he rushed from the tent to refill the bladder from the pool. He found another two bladders on the horses and brought them back.

Megan was crying from the pain and gabbling, pleading for forgiveness, explaining that she had to obey her chief.

"Forget all that," he said abruptly, handing her a bladder. "Pour this water over your wrist and keep pouring until I tell you to stop."

He gave the same order to Ash, who was pale and quiet, probably nauseated. He emptied the bladder over Solange again.

He kept going back and forth, filling the bladders from the mountain pool then emptying them on the girls' wounds. The icy water numbed their skins and began to soothe their wounds. Soon the pain was bearable, though the scars looked flushed and angry.

Megan and Ash poured the freezing water until their skins turned blue and their teeth chattered. After an hour, Solange opened her eyes. She was in pain but in no medical danger. It was only a flesh-wound, thank God. Ezra was as relieved to see her awake as he was angry at her.

It was too early to talk. He made her comfortable and tried to get her to sleep again.

In the morning, the girls had painful scars but no real damage. Megan and Ash were all right to ride, so he sent them back to the mountain camp, ostensibly for medicine but really so he could be alone with Solange. He wouldn't shame her in front of the tribe but he was going to have it out with her, one way or another.

"Are you awake?" he asked her.

She didn't say anything. She just smiled. Not her usual happy smile but one of resignation.

"You realise your irresponsibility caused me to wound three women I care for."

"Three?"

"I think it's time to put an end to your tests."

"Why do you call it a test?"

"What else was it? Your plan could never have worked and you're one of the most intelligent women on Samothea, so I'm sure you knew it. What I don't understand is what the test will prove."

"Why does it have to prove anything?"

"You're right. I should have twigged. You've tested me all during my stay with the Herders just for the fun of testing me. You knew my character the first time we met, or at least the second time. What on Earth could you learn by kidnapping me?"

"How do you know who I was testing?"

He thought about it. She hadn't admitted that her plan was absurd but maybe she was testing Ash and Megan, to see if they'd stay loyal to her if she ordered them to attack Ezra. It didn't matter.

"If I am going to be part of the Herder tribe," he said, "then I'm going to have to change our relationship somewhat."

"So you are going to overthrow me."

"No I'm not. I'm going to stop you testing me."

"How can you do that?"

"Oh, easily."

He had the lasso and whip from her horse. Solange tried hard to resist as he tied her wrists to her ankles but he was stronger and much heavier. He propped her up on her knees, her face on the blanket and her bum sticking up in the air. He began walloping her buttocks, using the handle of the whip, raising welts and leaving compression marks.

"Ow, shit!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing?"

"Getting your attention before I ask some questions."

"What questions?"

After six strikes, he stopped.

"When will you cease testing me?"

She gasped out her answer, struggling with the pain in her buttocks.

"When you ... ow! ... pass the test."

"I have passed all your tests."

He whipped her again. She breathed heavily and grunted with the pain.

"What do I have to do to convince you?" he demanded.

Her reply was a whisper:

"... pass a final test."

"There are no final tests where women are concerned. You'll simply make a new test for me."

He whipped her a few times more, just to make his point. At last she said:




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 10



"When you've had enough of being tested."

"That's it. That's the truth at last. I don't know if you really meant to kidnap me, to test me or to test Ash and Megan, but ..."

he raised the whip and struck her hard between his words:

"... Solange (whack!), right here (whack!), right now (whack!), I've had enough (whack!) of being tested! (whack!)"

She managed to grunt an answer: "I can see that."

The brave chief of the Herders never cried out nor screamed during the assault but she couldn't help weeping from the pain. She was weeping now but there was something else.

Ezra could see the moisture adorning the brown folds of her pussy. She was aroused by the whipping and perhaps by his violence. He was feeling it too. The whipping and her reaction had turned him on strongly. He was hard and he couldn't resist. He knelt down behind her and stuffed his cock into her pussy. He slipped all the way in. She gasped but didn't complain.

Then he felt her response, her sign of approval. She squeezed her vagina wall muscles, giving him the tight rub she always did when they made love, the response that made her such a delight to fuck. He began thrusting into her and she managed to buck in rhythm, despite the constraint of the ropes and the severe punishment her poor wounded body had endured.

Only once did she moan from anything other than pleasure, when he thoughtlessly gripped her by the waist, touching her wound. She yelped.

"Oh, God! Darling, I'm sorry," he said, but he didn't stop pounding into her and she didn't stop squeezing his cock.

She shut her eyes and breathed heavily. A deep pleasure was slowly building up her spine, presaging a joyful spasm in her pussy, stronger than any she'd felt before. Warmth spread over her skin, from the top of her head, down her legs to her toes. The pain in her buttocks had transformed into a hot tingling glow of pleasure.

He gripped her nipples and squeezed hard. She felt sharpness in her tits but joy in her pussy. Her skin was electric now. The tension was excruciating. She needed a release. It came moments later.

She hunched at the start of her convulsion and hunched again when it repeated. She forgot to squeeze her pussy muscles. No matter: they were squeezing themselves; involuntarily, spasmodically, in waves of tension and ecstatic release.

Now she screamed: a joyous exclamation mark at the end of an ecstatic sentence, telling the world she'd reached a crisis and overcome it. Her mighty orgasm exhausted her and she lay still. Ezra made his last few thrusts and pulsed his seed into her. While he recovered, he leaned against her recumbent body, her arse in the air, her face on the floor; then he pulled out and undid her bonds.

He put her down on the blanket and lay next to her, holding her gently, stroking her shoulder and back.

"I'm sorry I stabbed you, Solange. Please forgive me?"

"I deserved it. You'll have to show me that weapon sometime."

Her voice was drowsy but she was awake and needed only a few minutes to recover enough to talk.

"So you'll stop testing me?" he asked.

"I will."

"And you'll pardon Wildchild and Tamar?"

"I will."

"And you'll never keep my children from me, if I'm lucky enough to father any on the Herders."

"Good God, Ezra! I've never even thought of doing that! I would never do that!"

"You're right. I was wrong to suggest it. I apologise. ... So we're agreed. My only problem is, how do I know you'll keep your word?"

"I'm lying in your arms, with a hole burned by you in my side, my arse on fire from a whipping you gave me and my pussy full of your cum; yet you ask how you can trust me?"

"I still ask it. You're capricious and I don't know if you'll change your mind when I'm gone."

"Well, you can always come back and whip me again."

"Maybe I will, just for fun. ... You know I'll always come back - for you, for Ash, for Megan and all the others. I'm as much as Herder now as a Woodlander or Mariner."

"I'm glad to hear it. ... Look, Ezra, I know that my saying you can trust me means nothing, so I'm going to give you something of mine. Something precious. As a proof."

"What is it?"

"I ...," she swallowed. "I'm going to give you Ash."

"What do you mean?"

"You can have Ash. I'm giving her to you. She'll be your bedmate, like she is to me. She'll cook for you, set out the bedding, clean you, wash your clothes; and you can fuck her anytime you want."

"Ash loves you. She wouldn't come with me."

"She obeys me; and I'll tell her to obey you."

"I don't want a slave."

"Don't you?"

He paused to think for a minute.

"All right," he said.

She was unhappy but resigned. It was the best thing she had to give him.

"You can take her with you to the Woodlander camp next week."

"I don't mean 'All right, I accept your offer.' I mean, 'All right, I trust you.' You wouldn't make that offer unless you were sincere. Ash is yours. I'll never take her from you. And I don't want a slave."

"Thank you, Ezra."

"To show how much I trust you, I'll tell you how I got my pen-knife back."

"You mean you lost it?"

"Yes, when I crash-landed. Juniel found it on the beach."

"Juniel?"

"The ten-year-old Mariner girl, a keen beach-comber."

Then Solange twigged.

"I thought you crash-landed in the forest."

"No, in the sea. That's where Wildchild and Tamar found me."

"But then, they must have run away westward, not into the forest."

"Indeed."

"The little minxes!" She sounded pleased at their cunning.

"So why are you telling me this?" she asked.

"I have a plan to salvage my ship."

"Yes?"

"But I don't know where it is. I've tried to find the spot twice now. Juniel showed me where she found my knife and then I took a ride with Megan along the beach but I didn't recognise anything."

"Let me guess: you need Samothea and Tamar to guide you to where you crashed."

"Exactly. And I would like the Herders to help in the salvage."

"So that's why I have to forgive Samothea and Tamar?"

"One of the reasons."

"All right: the Herders will help with the salvage, whenever it happens."

"Thank you. Apart from the things I promised to Wildchild and Tamar, and those I need for myself, you can have my third of the salvage."

"We don't need anything."

"The Woodlanders and Mariners are having a third each. The Herders will earn their share."

"All right. You've proved you trust me. What next?"

"Next, we fuck again."

"Oh God, Ezra. You know how sore I am?"

"You're a woman, you can take it."

He helped her climb on him and they fucked slowly and gently. He was careful of her wound and her sore arse, until the last few spasmodic moments, when neither of them cared about pain or discomfort but melted together in a clinch of shuddering ecstasy.

They lay still.

"I love you, Solange."

He didn't know why he said it. He wasn't even sure it was true; yet there was some truth in it. He'd never met a woman like her and, now he knew her, he couldn't imagine ever giving her up. He hoped very much he'd gotten her pregnant.

"I love you, too, Ezra."

He'd half-expected a sarcastic response. She might have asked how many bedmates he'd said that to. He didn't expect an honest, heart-felt response. He was sure she was sincere.

"I will come back often and together we will restart the colonization of Samothea."

7Back to meeting-place

It was a subdued Herder Chief who returned to the mountain camp. Her wound was healing fast, though it was painful sitting on her bottom and painful riding the horse, but she had an inner glow that overcame all discomfort. Ezra had passed his test (if it really was a test, if anything had been a real test this last month) and he was, in a curious way, though not an exclusive way, 'her' man now. She smiled to herself, then she got busy.

It was time to load the saddlebags and pack-horses with trade-goods and head up north. The monthly trade at the Woodlander meeting-place was in three days. A trade with the Cloners and Farmers would follow a week later.

Though it was not essential she went, as one of the toughest women on Samothea, Solange insisted on leading the tribe. She rode all day, despite the pain.

At the southern camp, Ezra made up with Megan. Her pain had abated to almost nothing but she felt ashamed for her part in the attack.

"You have nothing to be ashamed about," he insisted. "It was Solange's stupid plan. I'm sorry you got hurt as a by-product."

They agreed to forgive each other and spent the night proving how well forgiven each other was.

Another day's riding and another over-night stay, this time at the way-station. Ezra asked Solange if he could have Ash that night and she agreed.

As they lay naked together, he was pleased to see her wound, which was only skin deep, had recovered the quickest. They made love sweetly, with gentle kisses and sensual touches. Solange came in half-way through and joined in, stroking and fondling Ash, helping her ride him to a satisfying finish.

Then they were back at the way-station and heading early the next day for another meeting of the three tribes.

The chiefs discussed politics. The Cloners still hadn't visited the forest camp or the Mariner Settlement but the yearly meeting at the Cloner fair was due next month, so maybe Gloria was being sensibly cautious.

As predicted, Mirselene insisted on a formal agreement (Calliope and Solange winked at each other), so the tribes agreed to salvage Ezra's ship together, to share the booty and that Ezra would be invited to stay one month with each tribe from now on.

It seemed that the Herders had thrown in their lot with the Mariners and Woodlanders to stand up to the Cloners; all for the sake of a part-share in a space-ship that may or may not contain any working Earthside technology and a visit from an Earthman every three months.

As for Ezra, so much had happened, he couldn't tell it all in one go. He used his time to say goodbye to his Herder friends and to catch up with his Mariner friends.

Half the Mariners were there. Kalyndra looking drop-dead gorgeous. Devon, demure as ever. Cressi, cheeky and lustful. Althea with her daughter, Odette, competing to produce the biggest smile. Leanne and her daughter, Juniel, intelligently curious. Thalassa, a picture-perfect beauty, patient and understanding; and Ferne, dignified and perhaps a little secretive, until he realised that none of the women were going to say who, if any, had missed their periods in the last month.

No matter. He was content to wait until the physical evidence was undeniable; yet Devon leaned into him as they kissed goodbye and whispered "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Just thank you."

Kalyndra was sad to let him go again. The Mariners were stable under Calliope's benign rule, so there was no pressing reason for her to stay at the beach settlement; but she refused his invitation to come back to the forest with him.

"We'll have our election soon. Let's see what happens then."

He had to be content and, anyway, the Woodlanders were impatient to take him home. Urulla greeted him back almost greedily.

News of Anella and Dipti was good, although Anella was very uncomfortable and impatient to give birth. She was a few days late already and almost irritable.

With the trade-meeting over, it was a long walk to the Woodlander Camp, for a delicious home-coming and hearty re-acquaintance with the first women he'd loved on Samothea.



Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 11



"Damn the woman!"

Parvinder sat on a bench in the Woodlander's forest camp, gazing at a pink sunset over the trees beyond the meadow. Casti handed her a cup of herbal tea and sat next to her. There was no need to ask who had angered the old Indian woman.

"Sorry. I'm irritable at the moment," Parvinder added.

No wonder. Annela was nine-months pregnant and, as the senior nurse of the Woodlanders, Parvinder was expected to ensure the survival of mother and baby; but she had never delivered a baby. Births had always occurred at the Cloner City. And, as Annela got more impatient to be delivered, Parvinder (normally so mild and amicable) got more anxious. It would be worse in two months' time when her own daughter, Dipti, was due.

"It's quite pardonable," Casti assured her. "Why don't you tell me what Mirselene has done?"

"I tried once more to get her to send Annela to the Cloners for the birth. I said that, now we're friendly with the Herders, they'll surely offer us transport. I can't bear the thought that there might be a complication and we'll be unable to contend with it through inexperience and lack of equipment. Now it is too late: the girl won't be able to travel."

"So what did Mirselene say?"

"Our chief, in her wisdom, said she trusted me. Fat lot of good trusting me will do if things go wrong."

"But nothing went wrong when others of us gave birth."

"Please allow me to worry and fret, Casti. It won't be you holding the forceps - ugly big wooden forceps that I made myself, by the way, better used for digging turnips."

Casti smiled.

"What reason did Mirselene give?"

"She has no reason."

"Really?"

"All right. She asked, What if it's a boy?"

"And you said?"

Parvinder paused.

"I said: What if it refuses to come out and Annela dies? ... Who cares what sex the child is, so long as Annela survives? But Mirselene thinks the Cloners will steal the baby and keep it for themselves if it's a boy."

"She is quite fearful of their power."

"She's paranoid! The Cloners may be greedy but they're not kidnappers. Why would they want to steal him?"

"But, as you say, it's too late now. It's not safe moving Annela when she's so nearly due."

"I know," Parvinder calmed down. "As I said, I'm irritable at the moment."

"Are you right to worry so much?"

"Probably not; but Mirselene is so nonchalant it sets me off. ... All right. I've done complaining. Let's drink our tea."

They sat in silence and tried not to worry.

As the pink sun settled down for the night, the preparations for the feast went on around them. Soon Casti and Parvinder joined the bustling women and took up useful tasks themselves.

It was the second night after Ezra returned to the Woodlanders and he'd had no time to himself since he stepped foot back in the camp. There was Mirselene to report back to first, then Annela to comfort, his other bedmates to show how much he'd missed them and everyone else to entertain and amuse with his stories.

A big event the first day was when Ezra showed his pen-knife to the tribe, after which Sharne, Dagma and he agreed on a program of repairs and improvements. There was also his salvage project to begin. The Woodlanders had collected the bamboo and other items he asked for. Soon he could set to work.

The first night, he told the story of his visit to the Mariners. The second night, he said what happened with the Herders. The women wouldn't let him leave out a single detail but badgered him for all the juicy bits. Thus he discovered an unexpected prudishness in the Woodlanders when they were shocked by the immorality of the Herders; how they fought among themselves, and their nightly orgies. He got laughed at for letting Solange test him; but they were pleased he'd secured forgiveness for Wildchild and Tamar.

It didn't matter how embarrassing it was to describe everything he'd done. He was home now, among family, and later on they would remember only that the Woodlander man was a hit with the other tribes.

He slept alone his first two nights in the camp, enjoying the peace and solitude, though he spent as much time as he could with Annela, who was uncomfortable and sensitive. Her pregnancy seemed to be going on forever. It was more than nine months already. Everyone reassured her that the first child was often late, so she had more frustrating waiting to do. Annela didn't find it reassuring at all.

"I just want it out of me!" she wailed.

They were alone together, sitting in the sun outside her hut. She sipped obediently at a cup of tea that Parvinder had made for her.

"Pyoo!" she said, spitting something out.

"What is it?"

"Raspberry leaf. She's gotten me eating garlic, radish and anything spicy she can find, even bark. And I'm waddling to the crapper every hour. It's your fault! You did this to me!"

"I'm sorry, darling, but it's not for long."

"Easy for you to say. ... Tell me something to take my mind off it."

"Actually, you can tell me something. What has Urulla planned for us?"

"I don't know. Nothing, I think. I know she made a fuss when it was Dipti's turn to be your bedmate but I don't think she wants a fuss herself. I expect Mirselene will just announce it and that'll be that."

Mirselene did announce it at the feast that night - and that was that: Urulla and Ezra were bedmates for the rest of the month. Quietly joyful, the girl kept her distance from him until the end of the feast, savouring her expectation.

Just before the rain started, he went to claim Urulla from her lover, Dipti, and they walked hand-in-hand to the Honeymoon Lodge, where they settled in, lighting the oil lamps.

They sat together on the bed and looked at each other. Urulla was very nearly twenty; tall, lithe, with light-blue eyes, mousy-brown hair, small pert breasts, slim hips and long thin legs that didn't meet at the top. Her face had a strong-jawed horsiness but there was beauty in her intelligent eyes, which looked out at the world with focussed curiosity.

He admired her intelligence but this night was about sex and what he most looked forward to was taking the skinny girl from behind. He imagined with relish the sight of her small firm buttocks, smooth thighs and pink juicy inviting slit.

One of his greatest fans since the moment he appeared in the Woodlander Camp, Urulla became his most devoted questioner on sexual matters. No one looked forward to sex with him more strongly than she. No one had such high expectations. Sex with Ezra would be the acme of joy and happiness.

Then came the conflict at the meeting-place when Urulla was stabbed, followed by a long recovery and, just when she was ready again for the supreme moment, Ezra went away for two months. She pined and lusted and built up such a store of longing that she thought she'd explode. All this pent-up desire was to be released tonight. How could it not be perfect?

It couldn't be perfect, even if Ezra were at the top of his game, because nothing could live up to the romantic girl's vivid imagination. For Urulla, love was a petal-strewn garden of delights, a world of butterflies and rainbows. Unreal hopes made her unusually hesitant and shy.

She wanted to talk about love and poetry but she became tongue-tied. Her mouth seized up and she stammered. Ezra took over and kissed her. She responded warmly and began to relax; but then she went the other way and started to gabble, her words coming out too fast and in the wrong order. She wanted to say what she felt, what she thought he felt, what she really wanted him to feel but couldn't find the words for.

He stopped her mouth with another kiss and started from there, quickly undressing her, hands roaming, exploring, with intimate touches and kisses, He thought he was giving the fraught girl what she really wanted, settling her down, taking charge. It didn't work. He was too quick, too eager.

Urulla had only ever had sex before with Annela and Dipti, who made love gently and slowly, with soft caresses and whispered endearments. By contrast, Ezra was bold and silent. He also seemed thoughtless. He began fingering her before she felt ready. Her moans encouraged him when they were meant to discourage. Her nipples were sensitive. They hurt when he sucked her tits. She liked when he kissed her thighs but he moved too quickly onto her pussy. He seemed impatient and unable to 'read' her.

She tried to respond in the right way to his kisses and touches but, contrary to what Dipti had told her, or what she had dreamed of for nine months, Urulla's first time with Ezra was an uncomfortable disappointment.

As she knelt on all fours on the edge of the bed, her pert bottom exposed to the night air, skinny legs spread wide, he had the joy of seeing her from behind, bent over and naked, a sight that was exactly as beautiful and arousing as he expected. He stood behind her and pushed his hard cock against her slit.

Holding her by the waist, he gruffly asked "Are you ready?" It was the only words he'd spoken since they first sat on the bed.

She pulled away.

"No, I'm not ready! Not at all!"

She sounded angry. She got off the bed, grabbed a cloak to use against the cold and stormed out of the hut, starting on the path back to the camp.

"Where are you going, Urulla? Please stop? Tell me what I did wrong?" he called out from the veranda.

It was the first time a night with a new bedmate had gone awry.

Urulla stopped under a tree at the edge of the clearing. Sheets of rain crashed around her. She thought for a minute. Was she being hasty and unreasonable? Was she over-reacting? It was her choice not to put on a show as she had for Dipti, to wear the one good dress the Woodlanders owned, to come to him like an angel, bathed in perfumes and flame.

"Urulla, please come back? Talk to me," he pleaded.

"Go on in, Ezra. I'll join you, but I need some time to think. Please go in."

"All right. I'll be inside."

Three times she rehearsed what she wanted to say and when she was sure of her words, she took a deep breath and went back.

He was inside, dressed, sitting on the side of the bed. He rose.

"It's my fault," he started.

"Shush! I want to speak," she said. "It's not your fault. ... I should have planned more. Dipti wanted me to but I said 'No'. I told her I didn't want anything artificial or contrived. I didn't need to dress up or have a special feast. I just needed to be alone with you, as I dreamed, as I'd yearned for months. It would be beautiful. Just you and me."

"I'm so sorry, Urulla."

She had spoken all this with her eyes closed, concentrating, fighting her urge to clam up or run away.

"It's all right. We can start over; but I want you to woo me, to make me feel happy and wanted, to make me think I'm the only woman in the world for you. I know it's not real but it will feel real to me."

He stood by her and took her hand.

"I do want you, Urulla, and it is real. Come and sit down."

She did so and he put an arm around her.

"It is my fault. I've had it too easy for too long, even before I came to Samothea, when I had no time for romance - for talking poetic nonsense to women. I've become even more lazy and taciturn in the last month."

This was true. Too much easy sex with the Herders had left him jaded. At the end of his stay, during their orgies, all he did was lie back with an erection and the women did all the rest.

"I know I should have said more," he went on, "to tell you how I feel about you. How much I like and admire you. I thought you could see it in my actions ... but how could you?"

She turned to face him, the heavy cloth opening to reveal her naked thighs and waist. She smiled.

"Is romance really 'talking poetic nonsense to women?'" she asked.

"No, not really. At least, poetry isn't nonsense. Do you like poems?"

"I love poems. Do you know any?"

"I used to know some. I read lots when I was young."

"Tell me a poem."

"I'm not sure I remember any now. It was a long time ago."

"Try to remember one for me ... a love poem."

"Well, I think I know part of one. It was my favourite."

He paused to recall. Then:

"She walks in beauty, like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

And all that's best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes;

Thus mellowed to that tender light

Which heaven to gaudy day denies."

"It's lovely!" Urulla said. "Say it again."

He did so, adding:

"I'm sorry, I forget the next two stanzas."

"What does it mean?"

Ezra explained who Lord Byron was and how England was a misty over-cast island, in contrast to southern Europe, with its clear dark skies and its dark-haired and dark-eyed beauties, whose complexion moon-light enhanced so ravishingly. (Then he had to explain what the moon was.)

"Do you know any poems about girls with brown hair and blue eyes," she wondered.

"I'm sorry, I don't."

"What a shame! Well, go on, tell me another."

"Oh, God! My memory's useless. I read them twenty-five years ago."

"Please?"

"All right, I'll try. This is one of Shakespeare's sonnets I learned at school. I know how it starts, anyway:

Let me not to the marriage of true minds

Admit impediments. Love is not love

Which alters when it alteration finds,

Or bends with the remover to remove:..."

"Er, ... God! It's gone. There's something about tempests and stars, I think, and a sickle. ... Di-dum di-dum di-dum di-dum di-dum. ... I've got it!

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,

But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

If this be error and upon me proved,

I never writ, nor no man ever loved."

She laughed at his triumphant recall of the last four lines.

"Do we have a marriage of true minds?" she wondered.

"We didn't at first but I think we're getting closer."

She sat in his lap and snuggled close. His arm, holding her firmly, warming and supporting her, did more to turn her on than all the bungled foreplay of an hour ago.

"Go on," she said. "Another."

"I'm not sure I remember any more, but I can tell you the most erotic poet of them all is John Donne. Some of his lines have always stuck with me ..."

Again, a pause, to get it right, then:

"License my roving hands, and let them go

Before, behind, between, above, below.

O my America! my new-found-land ..."

She was happy with this verse, too.

"I understand it. I'm your America, your new-found-land."

She put aside the damp cloak and lay naked on the bed, her arms over her head.

"Your roving hands are licensed," she said. "Let them go!"

He lay on her and they kissed again, but not like before. Slowly, tenderly, his warm hands caressed her thin taut body, taking possession, roving gently over her sensitive nipples, a teasing finger-tip playing along the edge of her rib-cage.

They kissed deeply. She put her hands in his hair and spread her long thin legs, raising her knees to embrace him, opening herself up completely.

Now, as he kissed down her delicate neck to her shoulders, he went slowly, stopping to praise her, to say how beautiful and sexy she was. He kissed her lovely ribs, one by one, over the taut drum of her stomach, moving up to the little hillocks of her tits with their small pink peaks. Sensitive to her response, he briefly allowed himself the delight of sucking her tits but stopped as soon as her gasps hinted at protest.

Now they kissed again: long, slow, passionate kisses, with exploring tongues and a gentle hum in her throat. She wanted to take his weight on her and was pleased to feel her sexual effect on him, as his cock pressed through his trousers onto her bare belly.

He kissed in a straight line down her body, from lips, strong chin, elegant throat, flat chest and tight stomach to her pussy, where he deviated down a thigh to a knee. She was buzzing nicely now, warm and tingling, a pretty blush starting to form on her chest and belly. He kissed back down her thigh and, tantalizingly, by-passed her pussy again to devote attention to her other thigh, with soft warming kisses and the faintest stroke of a finger tip around her pubic mound.

Her heart beat faster and she caught her breath. The blush reached her pussy, reddening her pretty labia. She was ready for more.

Starting slowly, turning his tongue sideways, dipping gently into the open slit, he licked up her pussy to her little hooded clitoris. Then he worked down, passing a flat tongue over her slit, all the time stroking his finger tips over her soft pubic hair.

Sometimes he lifted his mouth from her pussy, letting her relax, yearning to be touched again. Arousal engorged her pussy lips, widening her slit, so when he next tongued her, he pushed deep inside. She let out a moan and held his head to keep it in place.

He licked up and down her slit, dipping into her cleft, working over her clitoris to an accompaniment of encouraging moans and sighs. He sucked her clit into his mouth and flicked it hard with his tongue. This made her writhe, arching her back. He repeated the soft licking and the hard clit-attack until she reached a peak.

"Oh, God!" she exclaimed as she came. "Oh, God, Ezra! More, please more!"

Of course, he obeyed, pushing a finger into her tight twat and diddling her sensitive spot as he continued to suck on her clit. It wasn't long before she came again, a deeper, richer spasm, rippling along her pussy, bunching her stomach muscles. She held him tightly, squeezing his head with her thighs, beating out the slowly-releasing tension with thrusts of her pelvis.

She lay still for a minute. Then he lifted her up. She was very light and squealed out a laugh as he man-handled her, turning her so she was bent over, her bottom sticking in the air. The position was perfect: her legs spread apart, tight buttocks framing a thinly bearded pussy, matted with her creamy arousal. He stuffed his face between her buttocks and renewed his tongue-attack on her tiny pink clitoris.

She moaned deeply, shutting her eyes and breathing heavily. More damp lust collected in her pussy as the strain built. She bucked involuntarily, slowly swivelling her bottom, supporting herself on her outstretched arms.

She felt movement. He was undressing, taking off his trousers. Then there was a gap while he removed his shirt. Now he was back, his mouth on her yearning pussy, tongue squelching over the soft wet folds, licking figures on her clitoris.

There was another shift and her legs were lifted off the bed, her thighs hooked over his shoulders. She was hanging down his body. His cock stood proudly out, hot and hard, brushing against her cheek. Her response was almost instinctive. Holding the back of his thighs, she pulled her head up and swallowed his cock into her mouth.

She sucked more greedily than elegantly but soon got an erotic rhythm going, building his tension nicely. Firm hands on her waist held her tightly. The blood started settling in her brain, blocking her thoughts, spreading a more complex kind of feeling to her nerves. Her stimulation heightened and she headed to another joyful peak. She shook when she came and neglected his cock.

He laid her down on the bed and turned her on her back. Lying on her, he brushed the hair off her face to kiss her. She smiled as he lay on her and lined his cock up with her slit. She lifted her knees to show him she was ready.

He took her hands and they intertwined their fingers. Then he pushed his cock into her and began thrusting. She felt pressure in her throat and a warmth all over her body. She naturally began to buck to meet his thrusts, with low-pitched throaty moans. He thrust harder. As the pitch of her moans rose, he increased the speed of his fucking. With all the stimulation, she wasn't far off cumming again.

He maintained a steady pace now as she breathed and moaned more quickly, squeezing his hands tightly as the tension rose. She instinctively raised her knees to get a better angle of penetration. There was a strain in her thighs and in her calves. She liked the feeling of restraint, of his weight and his grip on her hands.




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 11



Arching her back, her eyes closed, her wild moans let him know how close she was. Thrusting even faster, he began to pant. The tense rub and the tight squeeze were irresistible for them both. A few more hard thrusts and she was at the crisis point. She yelled out as she came, the pleasure rocking her body with rhythmic shocks, her pussy clamping down on his dick in joyful spasms.

He had no resistance himself now. Soon a throbbing orgasm overcame him and he injected his load into her in quick hot spurts. Sighing with relief, his tension waned as he finished off with a final few thrusts.

As they lay together, panting, letting the glow of arousal melt away, snatches of poetry came unbidden to his mind. Fragments from the Song of Songs.

"Behold, thou art fair, my love;" he said "behold, thou art fair; thou hast doves' eyes. Behold, thou art fair, my beloved. ..."

Like in the poem, his left hand was under her head, his right hand embraced her. She pulled herself up to kiss him again, approving the poem, though she knew her eyes were not like doves' eyes.

"Is there more?"

"It's all mixed up, but ... Until the day break, and the shadows flee away, I will get me to the mountain of myrrh, and to the hill of frankincense."

She didn't know what myrrh or frankincense were (Ezra barely knew himself) but his right hand was on her mount, her hill of pleasure, playing with her clitoris, giving her spicy aftershocks that warmed her skin.

"Awake, O north wind; ... blow upon my garden, ... . Let my beloved come into his garden, and eat his pleasant fruits."

"You've eaten my pleasant fruits, Ezra. Keep going."

He put his finger in her vagina and gave her nipples gentle kisses. He was momentarily spent but she still had a reserve of sex-drive to use up. She lay back and surfed her arousal again.

"I am the rose of Sharon, and the lily of the valleys. ... My beloved is mine, and I am his: he feedeth among the lilies."

His fingers were giving her a welcome ache. Her breath began to come in short gasps. Whatever she thought the lillies were, she had a valley pining for cultivation, asking for more than just his fingers.

"Thou art beautiful, O my love, as Tirzah, comely as Jerusalem, ..."

They were just sounds to her now. She pushed herself up, rolled him over and lay on him, mouth to mouth, chest to chest, not just for the cold but for the intimacy. Her long straight hair formed a tent over their heads, her knees hugged his rib-cage.

She put her hands in his hair, lent down and kissed him, feeling his cock respond against her belly. She put her hand down to guide his stiffening rod into her vacant snatch.

"Come into my garden," she said, "feed among the lillies."

She began riding him, his cock hardening all the time. She thrust her pelvis slowly up and down his body, using his cock to fill herself up. The harder he got, the deeper she could thrust until he was fully hard and she could lean back to get more tension and a better angle.

It was another delightful fucking, with peaks of pleasure for her that lasted until Ezra couldn't hold off any more and spurted another load into her welcoming pussy. She collapsed on him and rested content for a while, her cheek on his chest, warm on her front, cold on her back but too satiated to move.

They slept an hour or so. Urulla was the first to stir, feeling cold and waking him up by reaching over to fetch the blanket.

"Sorry I woke you."

"I'm not. Are you up for it?"

"Oh, yes!"

They started under the blanket with Urulla on top but soon were warm again. He had her go on all fours and pumped her from behind. It was all new to her and she found she liked this position as much as face-to-face.

"Mmm!" she moaned, loving the feel of his cock along the back of her vagina. She bent down to rest her head on her folded arms and get a deeper penetration.

When he tired, she took over the movement but they ended thrusting together, gasping and moaning as they came.

An hour or so later, they were at it again.

Dawn was breaking when they made love a fifth time. A gentle breeze wafted the morning mist under the door. Thin shafts of daylight cut the air and lay dreamily on the floor.

Urulla was on her back, her legs crossed over his back, bucking her pelvis, meeting him stroke for stroke. She moaned with every penetration and he sucked her chin or breathed heavily on her neck.

But he was slowing, tiring, putting longer gaps between thrusts. When he stopped for a second, she said: "My turn."

They rolled over and she turned her back to him, climbed aboard and rode him with slow deep thrusts of her pelvis. He couldn't quite finish this time but he came close and Urulla got off nicely, gasping out a crying orgasm before turning around and collapsing on him to sleep away the morning.

It was noon when they next woke. The Honeymoon Lodge smelled of stale sweat and semen. They opened all the shutters and went naked to the river, jumping in together and sitting in the stream, letting the cool earthy water revive them.

There was a small store of food at the lodge, so they spent all day there, having sex or dozing. Urulla wanted to use the swing he made for Dipti and hung from the roof of the veranda. He had to adjust it for her height but that afternoon, they put it to good use.

There were no comments but some knowing smiles when the pair met up with the tribe again at the feast that night. The same knowing smiles appeared less than an hour later when Urulla, who ate only a small dinner but spent her time in a long chat with Dipti, which ended with a passionate hug, came and took him by the hand and led him back to the Honeymoon Lodge, though it was long before the night rain would begin and the feast end.

2 Annela gives birth

A week later, Annela went into labour at last. The whole tribe wanted to be in the hut with her but Parvinder bustled everyone out except for Ezra, whose job was to support the girl while she squatted, and Erin, whose job as assistant nurse was to fetch whatever supplies Parvinder needed.

The final contractions began that morning. After two fruitless hours pushing hard, Annela was in great pain. She screamed with every contraction but nothing happened. She had to sit down on a stool now, sweating and exhausted.

Erin washed her face while Parvinder went out for some air and to think.

"How is she getting on?" Mirselene asked.

Parvinder waited a few seconds and took a deep breath before replying.

"There may be a complication."

The look of devastating concern on the chief's face took away all Parvinder's pent-up blame. She added in a conciliatory voice:

"Maybe it's not a problem but it's taking too long and I can't properly feel what's happening inside. It's worrying me."

"Well, then, how about Pepi?"

"Yes, I need Pepi. Will you have her fetched?"

Parvinder went back inside while Mirselene had Sharne fetch her eight-year-old daughter. The normally excitable girl sensed the occasion and arrived quietly, waiting for her orders from Parvinder.

"Pepi, I need you to do something very important to help Annela. Something only you can do with your small hands. Will you do that?"

"Of course I will!"

"Good. You have to wash your hands very thoroughly, all the way up your arms. Erin will help. ... Erin, scrub under her nails."

By the time Pepi was back with clean hands, Parvinder had prepared Annela, who sat on the stool, leaning back against Ezra, her legs spread, the painful contractions making her cry out every few seconds.

Parvinder smothered Pepi's hands with grease and then explained what she had to do.

"I need you to put your hand in Annela's vagina and feel where the baby is. You have to be very gentle and slow and describe to me everything you are feeling. Will you do that?"

The girl nodded. It sounded icky to her but everyone was so serious and Annela so clearly in pain that she knew she had to obey.

"Come on," Parvinder said, kneeling beside Pepi, guiding her hand, "start like this."

She helped Pepi push her hand inside.

"What do you feel?"

"I don't know, it's all wet."

"That's right. Feel around with your fingers, but gently."

"It's like a shoulder. Yes, it's a shoulder and an arm."

"Can you feel the head?"

"Ooh! The head's to one side, it's like this," she demonstrated by tilting her head onto her shoulder.

"Good girl!" Parvinder exclaimed. "Which shoulder is the head leaning on?"

"This one," Pepi said, putting her other hand on the right side of Annela's belly.

"Annela, Pepi can feel your baby. It's trying to come out sideways. I'm going to try moving it. All right?"

The girl grunted her agreement and braced herself while Parvinder put her hands firmly on the side of her belly and began pushing.

"Are you still feeling the head, Pepi?"

"Yes."

"Where is it?"

"Where it was before."

"Did I move it at all?"

"No, aunt Parvinder."

"All right, then you'll have to move it from inside. Can you do that?"

"I don't know how."

"Squeeze your hand around the head to the other shoulder and push the baby straight."

"I'll try."

"Brave girl. Go on."

Annela's contractions were pushing the baby flatter against her pelvis and squeezing Pepi's arm, but the girl eased her hand under the baby's head and felt for the other shoulder.

"I can feel it! I can feel the other shoulder."

"All right, Pepi, now push the baby straight."

"I'm pushing. I'm pushing."

"Is the head lining up?"

"I'm not sure."

"Is the head in line with your arm, no longer tilting?"

"Yes, it is, it is!"

"Good. Pepi, you can remove your hand. Gently! ... Annela, time for one last effort. Ezra's holding you. Erin, are you ready? Come on, Annela, push!"

They removed the stool and Annela squatted. She pushed again and this time the baby's head was in the right place. The contractions did their work properly. Ezra held her up by the arms, Erin knelt in front, ready with cloth towels. Parvinder leaned over and said:

"I can see the baby's crown, Annela, we're nearly there. Come on, a few more pushes."

Annela gritted her teeth. With huge screams and pain that almost made her faint, Annela pushed hard and, at last, the baby came out, a crumpled, bloody, soaking bundle.

"It's purple!" Pepi cried.

"She's purple," Parvinder corrected, as she took the girl out of Erin's hands and sucked the mucus out of the baby's nose, spitting it into the bucket. She rubbed the purple girl with the towel and, sure enough, she began breathing. Then she started crying.

"Well done, Annela. It's a girl!"

Still with the umbilical cord attached, Parvinder handed the child to Annela, placing her on a bare breast. The child's mouth closed over the nipple and she became calm, held warm, skin-to-skin with her mother.

"It's not over yet," Parvinder warned. Annela didn't care. She felt elated, with the special sense of euphoria that a mother feels when she holds a new child in her arms.

"Well done, Darling," Ezra said. Annela looked up at him, too tired to talk, but strong enough to smile with pride. Erin leaned over and kissed her. Then the last contractions came. Annela shut her eyes and gave a final push.

"Your pen-knife please, Ezra," Parvinder said and, when he'd made a strong red laser-blade, sliced through the umbilical cord, put the remnants in the bucket and it was all over. They helped Annela onto the bed and covered her with a blanket. She was feeling a chill, though it was still hot daytime.

Outside, the Woodlanders lined up to congratulate Annela, to bring her water to drink and food to eat. Parvinder, still a stern Matron, sent them away, saying Annela needed at least an hour's rest; but ten minutes later they were all back and eager to see their sister and her daughter. Checking that Annela was awake and didn't mind, Parvinder reluctantly allowed in one visitor at a time.

Ezra stayed in the hut. Parvinder wouldn't dream of asking him to leave. He sat next to the bed and brushed Annela's hair, congratulating her again and again and telling her to rest.

By dinner time, Annela had slept well, though the black rings around her eyes testified to the effort she'd expended. She wanted to join the feast. After a quiet argument, she agreed to compromise and sit with Erin and Ezra on the veranda under a thick blanket.

Annela and Pepi were the toast of the feast and, although everyone was happy, the tribe was not as overjoyed as it should have been at the first new member of the tribe for eight years and perhaps the first child on their planet born without cloning in a century. Perceptive when she wanted to be, Mirselene quickly divined the reason: the expectation of a boy had been universal.

"Ladies!" she cried. "Why are you so silent tonight? We have a new Woodlander to welcome. Why aren't you lighting up the night sky with your torches and rattling the trees with your songs and dances? Who among us thinks a baby girl is not worth celebrating?"

That rallied them and, catching the spirit, the tribe had a merry hour raising cheers to Annela and her daughter, to Pepi, to Ezra ("Thank you for the seed", they chanted) and to Mirselene's leadership. Then they sang and danced until it was time for bed. 

Next day, Annela was confined again to her hut and its near-surroundings, which bored her but Parvinder forced her to rest. A highlight was when Ezra came in from work. She had a question for him.

"Have you chosen a name for our daughter yet?" she asked.

"No. I assumed you'd name her."

"Why?"

"Well, I don't know. I just assumed. ... Here's an idea. You name her and I'll name the next one."

"Next one! ... If you think I'm going through all that again, you're mad!"

"All right, let's both suggest a name and choose between us from the two."

"You first, then."

"I choose 'Freya.'"

Freya had been Annela's mother. She died four years ago.

"Oh, darling! It's perfect. Thank you. She's Freya."

So, for the rest of his month in the forest, though he was Urulla's bedmate and stayed nights with her in the Honeymoon Lodge, Ezra spent as much time as he could during the day with Annela and Freya. They sat together at the feasts, proud parents showing off the newest Woodlander to the adoring tribe.

3 The adventurers return

One morning, a few days later, Annela was nursing Freya in her hut. It was just after breakfast and Ezra called on her before setting off for work. Erin followed him in, carrying some hot porridge for Annela.

"Hello, Darling, how are you today?" he asked.

"My nipples hurt," she said, adding: "She's definitely your daughter. She's been latched onto my tits ever since I squeezed her out."

His reply was interrupted by a shout from outside.

"They're back! They're back!"

It was Pepi, shouting at the top of her lungs.

No one needed to ask "Who's back?" Erin looked up, smiled at Annela, and shoved the hot bowl into Ezra's hands, scalding him where it dripped. She ran outside, wanting to be the first to greet her daughter.

It was true! The adventurers were back, plus two others, marching at a good pace across the clearing into the camp. Most of the Woodlanders ran to meet them, Pepi first of all. The hugs were joyous and prolonged. Erin, especially, refused to let Carlin go, kissing and cuddling her daughter. Even Wildchild graciously allowed herself to be hugged, suppressing her natural urge to escape.

The two strangers looked at the huddle from one side, bemused by the extravagant affection of the tribe.

The babble was amazing. Even Pepi's excited shouts were submerged in the general medley. There was too much to tell on both sides: everyone's story got muddled together and no one really heard anything. It was Tamar who first broke free from the throng to insist they enter the camp and say 'Hello' to the rest of the tribe. She wanted to boast how they'd found the lost Miner tribe; and here were two of them as proof.

The two Miners, a tall blonde middle-aged woman, strikingly handsome, and a shorter, darker woman in her early thirties, were silent until Mirselene arrived to impose some sensible order. She greeted Wildchild and Tamar with hugs. She would have hugged Carlin as well, if Erin hadn't smothered her so completely.

"Well done, girls! Well done, indeed! Welcome back!"

Mirselene had stopped the women in full gabbing flow. There was peace for a moment. She continued.

"Come on, let's get everyone into the camp. Ladies (she addressed the strangers), you are welcome to the Woodlander Camp. Tamar, please will you introduce us?"

"Yes, Madam," the girl said proudly. "This is Eloise, my mother, and Adarna of the Miner Tribe."

Mirselene took this amazing revelation in her stride.

"Welcome, Ladies, most welcome. I am Mirselene, chief of the Woodlanders. Please come along and make yourselves comfortable. You must be exhausted."

"It was a long journey, Madam," Eloise said. "You won't remember, but I met you once before, many years ago, at the Cloner Fair. You weren't chief then, of course."

"It is very good to meet you again, Eloise. I hope you and Adarna will stay long enough for us to get to know each other properly."

"Thank you, Madam."

"Come on, everyone. Let's get you some food and drink. Off you go, girls."

As they reached the huts, Tamar noticed something. Ezra had come out to watch the commotion. He stepped down from the veranda to greet the girls, a wide grin revealing his feelings.

Shouting "Ezra!" Tamar dropped her backpack and ran across the camp to jump on him and be kissed. Wildchild picked up her friend's backpack and sauntered over to join them. Holding Tamar tightly, Ezra bent over to kiss Wildchild lightly on her forehead, rightly guessing that she'd been hugged enough for one day.

"Girls," he confided, "do you want to see what Annela made while you were gone?"

Their eyes lit up and they exchanged a smile before Tamar leapt from his arms onto the veranda and ran into the hut. Now Carlin finally broke free from Erin, saying "Let me go, Mum, I want to see!"

Pepi was at her heels. They both overtook Wildchild and followed Tamar into the hut where, at last, Freya had drunk her fill and nodded off to sleep.

Annela was sitting in her chair with her daughter in her lap. Tamar was the first to approach. She was so moved, she couldn't speak. She kissed Annela and then stared in wonder at the baby.

"Her name is Freya," Annela said. "You can hold her if you want."

Tamar sat next to Annela on the stool and took the baby in her arms, expertly supporting her head in the crook of an elbow. She cooed in a motherly way. Carlin stood beside her, wanting to touch the baby, adoring Freya's bunched-up red face and tiny perfect fingers and toes.

Pepi was behind Carlin. She had missed her friend so much that she stood hopping from one leg to the other, eager to speak, too excited to stand still.

"Carlin, I helped deliver her. I did, didn't I, Annela?" Pepi exclaimed.

"Yes you did, Pepi. You were very brave. You saved her life - and mine."

"I was very brave, Carlin. I helped with my small hands," she admitted proudly, showing them off. "That's why they chose me."

"Well done, Pepi." Carlin was impressed but Pepi wouldn't bathe in glory for long. She had something important to show Carlin.

"Come on, Carlin," she said, "come and see my cow. She's not 'my' cow, of course, she's all of ours', but I look after her. Come on." 

She grabbed Carlin's hand and tried to drag her out of the hut.

"I named her," she continued. "I bet you can't guess her name, can you? Can you guess? ... It's Jemima. You wouldn't have guessed, Carlin, would you?" she babbled on.

"Pepi, I want to see the baby."

"But she's boring! She doesn't do anything! Come on, please? Jemima does stuff. She runs around. You can milk her and the milk's warm."




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 11



Pepi was making such a fuss that Carlin had to go with her.

"Don't worry," Annela said, "You can come and see Freya whenever you want."

As Carlin allowed herself to be dragged down to the meadow to pretend interest in Jemima the Friesian cow, Ezra held the cloth open for Wildchild to enter. She kept her distance but he could see she was just as smitten as Tamar.

"You can hold her as well, if you want," he said.

Wildchild approached the bed and knelt down next to Tamar. She saw the serene joy on Annela's face and shared the fascination. She put out her hands and Tamar passed Freya over.

Wildchild held the baby in one arm, rocking her gently, stroking the back of her tiny hands. Freya half-woke and tried to grasp Wildchild's finger. Wildchild was enchanted. She turned toward Ezra and said the first words any adult Woodlander had yet heard her speak.

She said: "I want one."

* * *

The feast that night started early and lasted right up to the moment the rain started. Tamar sat next to her mother, who tried to encourage the excited girl to eat more; but there was so much to tell, it was a wonder anyone ate anything.

What was most noticeable was how much the girls had changed. Everyone could see the growing spurt the girls had put on, especially Tamar. She seemed to have grown three inches in the last three months. Even Carlin, who was never going to be very tall, had grown an inch or more.

The news also went around that Wildchild had spoken; but she remained silent now and even Tamar, an intelligent girl with lots to say, who usually spoke on behalf of the others, left the job that night to Carlin, who seemed to have conquered her great shyness.

When the normal chatter over dinner had ended, the tribe settled down in silent expectation. Carlin told the story of their trek to the White Mountains and back. How they passed through the forest and climbed the glacier to cross it at its narrowest point, backtracking to the tall volcano with its lizards and boiling pools. Then they set off across the parched steppe to the river and the five valleys. She described hunting the rabbits and Tamar's trick for catching trout. There were eagles, osprey and even a flock of quail.

The valleys contained caves made by the Miners but no one lived in them now. They explored the first four valleys up to the snow-line and then pressed on to the fifth valley where, finally, they met the last two Miners.

"We knew the valley was inhabited when we got about half-way up because we saw traps set for rabbits and nets in the river to catch fish. We sat down by the traps, lit a fire and waited for the Miners to find us."

"Which we did when we checked the traps that afternoon," Eloise said, taking up the story.

"Adarna and I saw the smoke from the fire and approached warily; but when we saw they were young girls, we had no qualms."

"We shouted a greeting from a hundred yards away and the girls stood up and waved. They seemed friendly, so we approached. They'd clearly come a long way because their clothes were rumpled, their hair bedraggled and their faces smudged with dirt."

"Then we both stopped. We were close enough to see their faces and this one" - she put her hand on Tamar's knee - "was uncannily familiar."

"Mum and I just stared and stared," Tamar said.

"Adarna pulled my arm and I understood that she had also recognised her, but I couldn't stop staring at her, at my Yael."

"Yael?" Mirselene asked.

"I knew it was her, my stolen baby. I had named her 'Yael'; and I wept for months after she was taken. I longed for her to come back but finally gave up hope ever to see her again. And then, there she was. Come to find me."

"I cried out 'Yael' but she didn't move; then Wildchild pushed her forward and we ran to each other. I was weeping."

She was weeping again now. The Woodlanders sat around the camp-fire with shining eyes, gazing sympathetically on the pair, silently hanging on every word.

"We held each other," Eloise continued. "It was beautiful. It made all the waiting and yearning seem like nothing. All the pain and regret went away, now my girl was back with me. I couldn't speak."

She hugged Tamar and kissed her forehead.

Adarna took up the story.

"We sat and talked for hours. We were amazed by how far the girls had come, how they'd found us. They had other amazing things to say, but when our astonishment was over, we collected up the rabbits and fish and brought everyone back to our cave."

"Their cave is at the top of the valley," Carlin added, "near the snow-line. It's cold outside but warm in the cave."

Adarna said, "The girls weren't used to the cold. It's warmer here in the forest, even now it's almost night."

"They stayed nearly a month with us. We showed them how we live, netting fish, trapping rabbits and foraging for vegetables."

"There's a hot spring in the mountains you can sit in," Carlin said. "The water is fizzy and it steams but it's cold when you get out."

"And there's a boiling mud pit that splutters all the time and stinks of rotten eggs," Tamar said, adding: "We loved the mountains. The peaks go on forever. But it's cold."

"The cold was one of the reasons the girls wanted to come back here," Eloise explained, "though there wasn't really any discussion. Adarna and I wanted to see the forest and meet all the Woodlanders."

Mirselene had a question.

"I'm told the rest of the Miners live in the Cloner City. Why did you two stay in the mountains?"

"That was due to me," Eloise explained. "About fourteen years ago, after the Herders snatched Yael, three of us (our chief, an elder and me), went to ask the Cloners to intercede with the Herders."

"It was a clear violation of the law and it should have been an easy case to adjudicate. Madam Law-Speaker was on our side, but the Cloner Chief was not. She delayed and delayed, making one excuse after another for why nothing could be done straight-away. I had to wait for the Cloner Fair; but when that came and went, she made another excuse."

"We Miners had to go home but we also had to decide what was to happen to the tribe because Yael was the only clone bought in ten years. We had so little to trade and had used up all our tokens. It took a another year or so but we decided the tribe had no future in the mountains. Everyone came to live in the Cloner City."

"Except it wasn't in the Cloner City. They put us to work with the Farmers. It was hard graft but we didn't complain. It was an even harder life in the mountains and very lonely. So we worked hard and we began to earn Cloner Tokens again, so the tribe is carrying on among the Farmers; but I wasn't satisfied."

"I couldn't stay there, knowing that the Cloner Chief could do something about Yael but chose to do nothing."

"Why did she do nothing?" Mirselene asked.

"The trade agreement with the Herders was precious to the Cloners," Eloise explained. "At that time, something changed. The Cloners began favouring the Herders above all the other tribes, even the Farmers; and they put up their prices every year, as you know."

"We know," Mirselene said. "I'll tell you our story later but we've only just started trading directly with the Herders again. Go on with your story."

"Well, a few years after the tribe left the mountains, Adarna and I became bedmates. She saw how unhappy I was there, so she said: Let's go home."

"It was better for me in the mountains. I could never be truly happy but I was less unhappy without having to see other women with their children. Adarna made a greater sacrifice, though, giving up her chance of a child."

"I didn't mind," Adarna said. "The Cloners were getting ever more parsimonious. I probably had no chance anyway."

"Well, it's not too late," Mirselene assured her. "As you know, things have changed recently. It's too soon to discuss your future but, now you have Tamar, er, Yael, back, there is no reason you need to return to the mountains."

"It is something to discuss," Eloise allowed.

They talked on into the night, until the rain made it necessary to end the feast. Ezra and Urulla had already retired to the Honeymoon Lodge and Annela was long tucked up in bed with Freya. Beds were found for the five adventurers and those who couldn't sleep turned over in their minds all the amazing events of the day.

***

Next day, Mirselene was in her element. That most well-organised of women, who delighted in organising others, plotting and, especially, formal agreements, planned a day of meetings.

She began after breakfast, having ensured the Woodlanders' guests had slept well and eaten heartily, by telling the tribe to stay nearby because there would be a meeting later. Shepherding Lenta, Casti and Parvinder into her hut for a conference of the Matrons, half-an-hour later she invited Eloise and Adarna to join them.

While the women talked, Ezra had a chance to speak to Wildchild and Tamar. He took them to one side for a private chat.

"You know I went to visit the Herders for a month?" he started.

"We do," Tamar affirmed, nodding.

"That I got on very well with Solange, who agreed to forgive you both?"

"Yes, we know." They weren't impressed.

"She makes no claim on Wildchild but she wants Tamar back, apparently because of the property you will inherit."

Neither girl responded to this information.

"I also spoke to Galatea and Judith. Do you want to know what they said?"

Wildchild maintained her pose of studied indifference but Tamar said "Yes, please."

She felt no resentment toward Judith and was happy to learn more. She also thought Wildchild ought to know about her mother as well.

"Tell us about Galatea first, please?"

Wildchild gave Tamar a stare but, as usual, she indulged her younger friend and stayed to listen to Ezra.

"Solange kept Galatea and me apart for the whole month," he explained, "until the very last day, when I had a short chat with her. I told her I was friends with you, Wildchild, and hoped to see you again soon. Then I asked her if she had anything she wanted me to say to you."

"'Just one thing,' she replied. 'I want my knife back!'"

Wildchild smiled bitterly and put her hand protectively on the fearsome hunting knife she always wore on her thigh. That was her answer.

"Tell me about Judith?" Tamar said.

"She's a sweet lady and is sorry for what she did. She loves you. She misses you and wants you back. I told her I'd say this to you."

"Thank you, Ezra. I miss her too. She'll always be my Herder mother."

"Well, I expect Mirselene and the others are discussing your futures as we speak. Is there anything you want me to say on your behalf?"

The girls exchanged one of their psychic glances and smiled.

"No, thanks, Ezra. We're content with things just the way they are."

With that interview concluded, they carried on their chores, not leaving the camp.

When Ezra was summoned as a courtesy to join the meeting, it was standing room only, so he leaned against the door-post. When Wildchild and Tamar were admitted, they had to sit on the floor, but the matter was swiftly resolved. Mirselene did all the talking.

"Wildchild: you are almost of age. Soon neither the Woodlanders, nor the Herders (nor your own mother) will have any claim over you; but we like you very much and want you to stay with us. Nothing has changed in that regard."

"Tamar, yours is a different case. We had no formal treaty with the Herders when we adopted you, and you were away from us when we did make a treaty, so the subject never came up; but now your mother is here, all those obligations are cancelled. Your first duty is to your mother."

"She can take you away with her. She can leave you with us, as a child of the tribe. Or she can ask to join us. Of course, Eloise, you need not decide now."

"Why cannot Tamar choose for herself what tribe she belongs to?" Ezra asked.

"By proper law and custom, a girl is the responsibility of her mother until she's eighteen. In her mother's absence, she's the responsibility of her tribe."

"I don't understand," Ezra said. "On Earth ..." 

"I don't know how societies are organised on Earth, with its large population, but on Samothea, with our small communities, we are ruled by custom and moral obligation. It would be quite improper for Eloise to neglect her duty to Tamar, as it would be for Tamar to disobey her mother."

"The best thing," Mirselene concluded, blocking the chance of more interruptions, "is for Eloise and Adarna to try living here with us for a while and see if they want to stay. And, of course, Tamar is not without the power of persuasion, are you child?"

"No, madam. I'm a good persuader."

"Good girl! Now I have to speak to the tribe, so everyone out! Gather us all together."

Ezra was dissatisfied. He understood why Mirselene was jealous of the power of both mothers and the tribe, but the girls ('his girls,' as he thought of them) had proved they could look after themselves. The idea that Tamar was the responsibility of her mother was a legal fiction; but one in which Tamar seemed to acquiesce without protest. He was about to ask her what she really thought when he saw her holding her mother's hand, looking up at her.

Tamar's over-sized dress went down only to her skinny knees and she was barefoot. It gave her an urchin-like look which, added to the adoration with which she gazed on Eloise, reminded Ezra that she was still a child. His protest on her behalf vanished and he looked fondly on the beautiful pair, with their elegant sculpted features and their long golden hair.

When the tribe was assembled, Mirselene addressed them from the dais outside her hut.

"Ladies," she said, "we have four important events before us. The first is the trade-meeting with the Mariners and Herders at the end of the month. The second is the Cloner Fair five days later. The Herders have agreed to transport our tents, food and trade-goods, which is an improvement on previous years, but it's still a long walk, so I have some suggestions on who should go."

"Lenta cannot walk that far. She will stay and help look after Annela, who also cannot walk that far."

"Of course, I can!" Annela immediately protested.

Mirselene authoritatively squashed her protest: "No you can't, child," adding:

"Dipti, I think you should stay here as well."

Dipti was seven-months pregnant. It was usually a four-day journey each way. If the Herders carried their loads, then it was only three days; but her mother, Parvinder, supported Mirselene, so Dipti made no protest. Although Parvinder was known to be over-cautious, the complications of Freya's birth had recently proved her right, so her advice was incontrovertible for now.

"We want at least one more to stay in the camp. I need Casti with me for the negotiations; so who will volunteer to stay?"

"I'll stay," Ezra said.

"You're not coming anyway," Mirselene told him. "I have a different task for you."

"Thanks for telling me."

"Now, no petulance, Ezra. Wait until you hear what I've planned."

"I'll stay," offered Urulla. As Dipti's bedmate, it was natural she would volunteer.

"Good girl. You, Lenta, Annela and Dipti can run the camp for us."

"I would stay, but Pepi really wants to go," Sharne explained to Urulla.

"That's all right," Mirselene said imperiously on Urulla's behalf.

"So, Parvinder, Casti, Erin, Carlin, Pepi and I will go to the Cloner Fair."

Three questions came at once:

"How about Eloise and Adarna?" someone asked - "What about me?" asked Dagma - and "What about us?" asked Tamar.

Mirselene held up her hands for peace.

"This brings me to the third important item: Ezra's 'salvage operation' (as he calls it). I want it to happen as soon as possible, ideally during the Cloner fair. I assume you're prepared, Ezra?"

"I will be soon, Madam."

"Good man."

She addressed herself to Wildchild and Tamar.

"I also assume that, now there's peace between us and the Herders, you girls no longer have any objection to guiding Ezra to where his space-ship sank?"

Her complete assurance of a positive response was so compelling that Tamar answered "Yes" before she realised she had a choice. Even Wildchild seemed to agree.

"So, Eloise and Adarna: do you prefer to stay here, visit the Cloner Fair or take a trip to the sea-side? ... You can answer later, if you prefer."

"As for you, Dagma. I want you to be in the salvage party, as my representative."

"All right, Mum," she said, slightly disappointed at not going to the Fair but aware there may be compensations from the salvage trip.

"Lastly, ..."

She was interrupted by Carlin, bolder than ever, who spoke up.

"Please, Madam, can I be in the salvage party too?"

"Of course you can, child. Do you mind, Erin?"

Erin was getting used to having an independent daughter.

"What danger is there?" she asked, exercising her usual caution.

"Ezra?" Mirselene passed the question over to him.

"No danger at all to those who stay on land," he explained. "A slight danger to those on the Mariners' rafts who can't swim; and most danger to those of us who will dive down to the ship."

"You can join the salvage party if you want to, Erin," Mirselene generously offered; but Erin looked forward to the Cloner Fair. She was wiser now and understood the change in her daughter.

"You can go, Carlin," she said, knowing how grateful the girl would be that she made no fuss.

"That's settled," Mirselene said with satisfaction. "So to the fourth item. I hope I'm not the only one who's remembered it's Urulla's birthday in two days. We normally celebrate only an eighteenth birthday but our girl has gone through a lot this year. I promised her when she was ill that we'd have a party for her twentieth, so let's find something in the forest to make it a special feast."

"Meeting over," she declared, "Off to work!"

4 Urulla's birthday party

Next morning, Dagma borrowed Ezra's laser-knife and took Casti, Sharne and Dipti into the forest to show them something she found. It was a bee-hive, nestled in the angle between the bough and trunk of an oak-tree, about twenty feet above ground.

While Casti and Dipti foraged for dry wood and damp leaves to make a smoky fire, Sharne and Dagma fashioned a ladder out of a tall thin trunk by cutting chunks out every foot. When the fire was lit and the smoke smothered the hive, calming the bees, they laid the ladder against the oak tree.

Dagma wrapped strips of cloth around her wrists and ankles and around her neck. Casti threw her shawl over her head. Then, taking a clay pot and a long stick with a sharp spoon-like end, Dagma climbed the ladder.

From two feet away, she poked the spoon into the middle of the hive. The angry bees attacked the spoon and flew in disorientated frenzy around the hive as its robber spooned clear golden sweetness into the waiting pot. Some bees were caught in the sticky mess. Dagma ladled out another spoonful.

There were bees on her hands and arms and dangerously near her face now. She risked their anger to raid the store once more; then she climbed down as quickly as she could. The women ran away from the tree, chased by a handful of irate bees, who soon gave up and buzzed off in a zigzag path home.

The women helped shoo away any bees caught in Dagma's clothing, impressed by her courage and, even more, that she escaped without a sting. Of course, they wanted to taste the honey but Casti was firm: it was a present for Urulla and, if they were to start, there'd soon be none left. Reluctantly, the others agreed and, elated by their success, made for home.

When he got his pen-knife back, Ezra put the finishing touches to a metal knife with a horn handle he'd made for Urulla. The metal blade came from Calliope's boat and the horn handle from a Herder cow. He smoothed off the handle, slimming it down for Urulla's small hands, etching her name with thin laser burns.




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 11



Urulla herself prepared for the feast by resurrecting the grass skirt and top that the beautiful Mariner visitors, Kalyndra and Thalassa, made for a previous celebration. She wove new grass stalks into the cloth and laced on fresh flowers. Tamar happened to see her and asked what she was doing. This led to Wildchild, Carlin, Tamar and Pepi making grass skirts as well. It was a surprise that Wildchild took part. She usually dismissed concerns about clothing as female frippery and nonsense.

It was now, however, that Urulla noticed that Wildchild was outgrowing her patchy synthetic trousers and leather jacket, both by growing too tall for them and also because her thighs, bottom and breasts were filling out in a womanly way. Urulla had a talk with her mother, Casti, and the Woodlanders' precious store of clothing was unlocked.

The 'store' was a pile of skirts, dresses and other clothes in a basket in Mirselene's hut. They were taken out and proudly laid on the table for Wildchild to make her choice. She barely glanced at the skirts and dresses as she rummaged through the pile, finding what she wanted at the bottom. From a stack of men's clothes, she chose a pair of faded denim jeans and a thick cotton lumberjack's shirt.

A leather belt, a misshapen woollen jumper for use at night and her knife once more strapped to her thigh completed the outfit. She smiled happily. Her disreputable old clothes were washed and placed in the store, surely never to be claimed by anyone.

* * *

The night before her birthday feast, Urulla had a request for Ezra.

"Tie me up, please?"

"All right."

He laid her on her back tied her ankles to her wrists with long strips of cloth. He used another strip to blindfold her.

He lay on her and they kissed for a good while, until she was wet between the thighs and aching for an intimate touch. Then he began to finger her. She squealed nicely, enjoying the sense of submission.

This was what she wanted to try. Some part of her delighted in being commanded by him and this was the next step in her surrender, being restrained and unable to move.

The blindfold heightened the sensation, concentrating her thoughts on the singular point of joy, where his finger was working magic in her pussy. She came twice, with long rolling orgasms that spread up her spine and over her skin.

Then he pushed her on her front, lying forward with her bum stuck in the air. She was even more helpless than when she was on her back. He knelt behind and roughly sank his shaft into her wet pink gash.

"Oh, God, yes!" she exclaimed, "Yes, yes, yes!"

She only stopped moaning when she came with a yelping cry. He felt the ripples of her orgasms as he drove relentlessly into her, holding her tightly by the hips, finally unloading in a relieving splurge. He collapsed to one side and pulled her down with him, so they were spooning with his cock, gradually going soft, still in her tight slit.

After he untied her, he lay on his back, breathing heavily. Urulla lay on him, legs astride, nibbling at his neck. She lifted her head.

"That was wonderful. I think I may be submissive; which is odd, because Dipti always wants me to dominate her."

Ezra had nothing to say about that.

"Talking of Dipti," she continued, exercising the energy women seem to have after sex, "do you mind if I spend the night here with her after the feast tomorrow?"

"Of course not. It'll give me a rest. It's exhausting loving you."

"Really?" Then the serious-minded girl realised he was joking. "But it's worth it, isn't it?"

"Very much worth it."

After this, they went to sleep.

Next day, Ezra asked Annela if he could sleep with her that night.

"I'd love you to spend the night with me," she answered, "but I warn you, you won't get much sleep. Freya wakes every hour demanding food. Also, no sex. I'm not yet ready for sex."

"That's fine, Darling. I'll help with Freya if I can; and a break from sex would be welcome."

"Really? You've had enough of sex?"

"Enough for the time-being, at least."

"Are you sure it's not just a break from women you want?"

He laughed. Annela's mind-reading skills, usually so accurate, were far off-beam now.

"No. It sounds as odd to me as it does to you but I do think it would be nice to take a break from sex and just enjoy the company of women for their own sake. And I really do want to spend more time with you and Freya."

They were sitting outside her hut. He held Freya on one arm. Annela stood up and put her hand to his forehead.

"Curious. No fever."

She pretended to take his pulse.

"Yes, you're still alive. Are you sure you've not hit your head or something?"

He laughed again.

"I'm fully sane and aware of what I say. ... Sex with women is one kind of joy, but getting to know them is another kind of joy; one that appeals to me now just as much."

Annela smiled up at him and said:

"You're good at saying the right thing, Darling."

Then she gave him a wifely kind of kiss, with just a hint of mistress.

* * *

The feast started early and lasted long. The beautiful girls in grass skirts entertained the audience with their dancing. Pepi, Carlin and Urulla began with the Woodlander's style, to which the others caught on quite quickly. Then Urulla showed them the wiggling style of the Mariners. Wildchild and Tamar demonstrated the country dancing of the Herders, which had wild stamping. The others joined in, forming lines or circles, whooping for joy, throwing their garlanded arms into the air. Soon a line of girls was leaping and spinning, twirling and stamping, as the drummers beat out a frenzied rhythm.

After this, it was a free-for-all. Urulla enticed Ezra to dance with her. He showed the others his steps and ended with Wildchild, who proved herself extremely adept: strong, flexible, with a natural grace and sense of rhythm, she was happy to let him lead. Her curly black hair twirled as he span her around, the flickering fire adding gleams to her brilliant green eyes.

At first, Eloise and Adarna sat out, but Tamar claimed her mother as a partner. Adarna also stood, saying:

"Come on, Darling. We haven't danced in years."

Eloise relented. She first danced with Tamar; then - at the request of the Woodlanders, who wanted to learn the Miner's style of dancing - she and Adarna danced together.

They had a sedate and courtly style, suited to steep mountain-sides and cramped caves. The partners began at arm's length and stepped in together, turning side-on or briefly back-to-back, stepping out again, moving around but keeping eye-contact all the time. Their heavy skirts swished as they twirled, their feet making swirling patterns on the ground.

Dagma, ever bolder now, gave her drum to Sharne and claimed Ezra for herself. She had been practising. He span her around and she barely collided with anyone or trod on his toes. 

Things quietened down over dinner and then it was time for presents. Urulla was not expecting anything and was so overcome she was rendered speechless. The knife was such a hit that she carried it around to show everyone. Then she sat and began to test the blade, trimming the hem of her grass skirt and smoothing off a rough corner of the table.

"Well done, Ezra," Mirselene said, attempting sarcasm. "Now we'll find the name 'Urulla' scratched into every bench and door-post;" but she beamed contentedly at the birthday-girl, who, with a self-conscious smile, stopped whittling the table.

Urulla hadn't expected another present and was speechless again a minute later when a mysterious clay pot was brought out. She used her new knife to cut the string tying on the cloth cover and revealed a jar full of golden honey.

Now, as she brought around the rare delicacy, she allowed everyone to dip a finger into the pot, but only once.

The feast ended with more dancing (slower, more suitable for full stomachs) and singing. Urulla and Dipti left before the rain to go to the Honeymoon Lodge and Ezra disappointed his other bedmates by following Annela into her hut when she started to yawn with fatigue.

In the Honeymoon Lodge, Urulla had a treat for Dipti. They kissed and slowly undressed each other. Urulla took charge and kissed down Dipti's neck to her large round tits, giving the dark-brown nipples a good sucking.

Dipti hummed her pleasure and asked for more but Urulla said "Wait." She guided the pregnant Indian girl onto the bed. Kneeling on all fours, with a pillow for comfort, her bottom sticking up, Dipti waited expectantly.

"Darling," Urulla said from behind, gently fondling Dipti's buttocks. "You always complain that I don't spank you hard enough."

"Yes?"

"Well, Ezra made me something to help."

She pulled back her hand and swiped. There was a whooshing sound and then a sharp clap. Dipti jumped and yelped as a wooden paddle landed square on a buttock, making it shake with the impact.

Urulla had under-estimated her own strength. Her next swipes were less painful and more sensual. Pretty soon, Dipti had exactly the level of pain and submission she wanted. She lent down on her folded arms and channelled the burning sensation in her bottom into a heightened state of pleasure and lust, an urgency she communicated to her tormenter by bucking her pelvis and spreading her thighs wider.

Urulla read the signs and knelt down to lick at her girlfriend's sodden pussy. She kept this up until Dipti's excited moans indicated she wanted something else. Urulla pushed a finger into her slit and went to that special place that got Dipti really going.

Urulla was teasing, spreading the effect about her body. As the vocal girl moaned for more, Urulla pushed in a second finger, then a third, the middle finger reaching the spot nicely, the outer two fingers giving a delicious stretch. Dipti's bucking sped up. Her cries were more urgent.

Urulla took the paddle and, keeping her hand in Dipti's twat, swiped the outside of a buttock. Dipti shrieked. She was spanked again and tried to contain her noise but she liked screaming too much. Now her back was arched as far as her distended belly allowed, her hard nipples rubbing on the comfortable pillow. Damp effusion coated Urulla's active fingers as she caressed her lover's g-spot.

Dipti moaned with a different note when Urulla removed her fingers. The sudden emptiness in her sensitised zone was disappointing. The gap was soon filled when Urulla experimented with the handle of the paddle, squeezing it gently between Dipti's engorged labia into her vulnerable snatch.

It felt good at first. It gave an irresistible rub in the right places but it was too stiff. It rubbed too hard.

"Please, no, Darling," Dipti whined. "Your fingers are better. Please?"

Urulla returned to using her fingers, one, then two, then three as before. Then a fourth, her thin hand sawing in and out, the thumb outside.

"Oh, God!" Dipti cried, "God, that's good! More, please!"

Urulla deliberately disappointed her again, to try something new. She stopped finger-fucking Dipti and pressed her thumb into her palm. With a swivelling motion of her extended fingers, she began to infiltrate Dipti's pussy.

Dipti breathed heavily and, when Urulla's hand was in up to the knuckles, began to buck. It was a hard stretch but she was loving it. She wanted more and deeper and pushed back to get better penetration. The paddle came down hard on a buttock again.

"Stay still!" she was ordered.

This was frustrating in itself but the fisting was delicious. Now Urulla's hand was all the way in and she formed it into a fist.

"All right, Darling," she said, "you can move."

Urulla held her arm straight while Dipti used it to fuck herself, bucking with a swivelling motion. Then Urulla took over the movement, plunging harder and twisting her fist to give Dipti a sensuous rub on all sides. It was hard work and she used her left hand to help ram her fist in and out. Tiring, Urulla changed the angle of her arm and thrust a little faster, knowing exactly what to do to give Dipti the pleasure she urgently needed. She was well rewarded when Dipti hunched and shuddered with a powerful orgasm, giving her lungs a good blow-out with an ecstatic scream.

After a rest, she settled Dipti down on her back, legs spread wide, big belly pointing upward. She began fisting her again and this time used her spare hand on Dipti's clitoris. It wasn't long before she was screaming again and enjoying another hard climax.

"Suck my tits, darling, please suck my tits?" Dipti pleaded.

Urulla leant over and latched onto a tit.

"Harder, darling, harder!"

She obliged her friend and sucked as hard as she could, pumping firmly with her fist and rubbing her fingers over the clit. Five minutes of this treatment was too much for the supine girl. Dipti came once more with a satisfying shriek and a nervous shudder that shook her legs but she couldn't cum another time. She begged to stop and closed her legs on Urulla's arm.

Urulla withdrew her fist and let her girlfriend relax, pleased with herself. Now it would be her turn. They turned around and Urulla lowered her bottom to Dipti's face. Dipti licked her thin tight pussy, basting the lips and twiddling her clitoris. This was lovely and Urulla enjoyed it for some time. Then she moved forward, allowing Dipti to use her fingers on her pussy.

Dipti fingered Urulla in the way she loved best: first the clitoris then, when the pale girl was aching for more, with a finger in her twat, the tip turned down to catch just the right spot. Just one finger, dragged over the g-spot again and again, and Urulla was in the zone, fireworks going off in her head, tingling warmth spreading over her body.

Getting close, Urulla stopped moaning to hold her breath. She was squirming and bucking, unable to stay still under Dipti's questing fingers. She released with a gasp. It was a small orgasm, a prelude on the build up to a big birthday orgasm. She began moaning again, louder this time and higher-pitched, egging Dipti on to firmer treatment. Another catch in her breath and another small climax, she was riding the sensation, loving the tension but also wanting more.

Dipti used both hands, keeping Urulla's clitoris aroused and slowing down the finger rubbing in her vagina, wanting the sensation to last. She alternated now with a circular rub on the clitoris that made Urulla cry out for less stimulation and neglect of her vagina, which made Urulla moan loudly, demanding more. So Dipti played with her girlfriend for the rest of the night, allowing her many little climaxes but always stopping short of the big one she craved.

Finally, after hours of teasing, Dipti took pity on the girl and gave her g-spot the treatment it deserved. Urulla came hard, with a small squirt, a frenzied shake in her thighs and a big sigh. Then she came again and again, until she pulled away from Dipti and got her poor over-tensed body a well-deserved rest.

* * *

Annela and Ezra lay down on the bed. He was against the wall; she snuggled against him, with Freya in her arms between them. It was lovely to be held by him again, to feel his strong arms around her, to nuzzle the hair on his chest. She would have liked to talk but Ezra fell asleep immediately.

Despite saying he wanted to help with Freya, he slept right through the night - through a feeding, a change of swaddling clothes, another feeding, a burping, some combined crying and vomiting, another change and yet another feeding. Each time Annela came back to bed, he instinctively held her. It made her feel warm and safe but, however relaxing, she didn't sleep.

She felt the morning approach, not because twilight seeped in through the cracks in the door, but because Ezra's erection prodded her in the back. In the hypnagogic state between dreaming and waking, she imagined herself as merely the conduit of male potency, its stiff symbol behind her, its living product in her arms, sucking at a nipple.

Then she thought better of it. The bee serves the flower, she said to herself, though the flower generously feeds the bee. Woman is the flower: man is merely the tool for her reproduction. A good tool, of course, as bees are good and make good things, like honey; but the flower and its fruit are the point of it all.

Thus satisfied with her biological philosophy, Annela managed to doze off for an hour, suffering the kind of sleep that made her feel even more exhausted than if she hadn't slept at all.

* * *

Woken by cock-crow, and seeing no one else up, Wildchild and the other girls set off into the forest to hunt pigeons. She and Carlin took bows and arrows. Tamar took her sling-shot and Pepi was fortified with seeds which, if she didn't eat them all herself, could be used to lure pigeons down from the canopy as targets for the other girls.

Eloise and Adarna were also up before breakfast. They walked into the forest to talk, taking baskets with to forage as they went.

Casti got up to tend to the chickens. She helped Erin shovel up the ash from the fire.

Now Lenta and Parvinder began on breakfast, grilling fresh eggs and last night's left-overs on the stove.

Though they spent all night making love, and had to walk from the Honeymoon Lodge, yet Dipti and Urulla were the first young couple to arrive at breakfast. Arm in arm and yawning wildly, shawls hanging loosely over rumpled dresses, they sat at a bench by the stove; but Dipti stood up again immediately. Urulla smiled mischievously.

Dipti folded her shawl into a cushion and sat carefully on it. This was better, though she occasionally shuffled uncomfortably.

Sharne and Dagma arrived next. They were quiet and pensive, satisfied after a night of sex somewhat gentler than the other young couple. They began their breakfasts, eating rather than talking.

At last, Annela and Ezra arrived. Dagma offered to take Freya, while Ezra loaded the breakfast plates. When Freya was new, Annela might have jealously refused to hand her over to even a careful friend. Now she happily pressed her onto anyone kind enough to nurse her for an hour or so.

Freya had enjoyed her second meal of the morning and, lying flat on Dagma's lap, slept happily, gurgling with milk-gorged contentment.

Seeing the three loved-up couples properly supplied with nourishment, Lenta and Parvinder left them alone and returned to Lenta's hut to work together with the two-man loom.

The three couples sat in comfortable silence, enjoying the first warmth of the day. The kindly rays of a rejuvenated sun slowly evaporated the mist left by the cold night.

Annela ate as much as she could and pushed away her half-finished plate. She didn't let Ezra finish his plate either but, wanting more heat, climbed onto his lap, rested her head against his shoulder and shut her eyes.

He put down his plate, held her with one arm around her waist and gently stroked her red-gold hair until she fell asleep.

None of the forest noises disturbed her. The birds chattering in the trees were too far away. The babbling stream behind the huts, the wind swishing the branches and the regular clunk and whoosh of the loom were all soothing rather than jarring. At last, Annela was getting the restful sleep she so craved.

Now it was time for Mirselene to join them. A habitual late-riser, she descended from her hut, yawning and stretching. About to speak, she registered the mood of restful contemplation and made no more disturbance than was necessary to pile her breakfast plate high and chew her food appreciatively.

* * *

Eloise and Adarna talked as they filled their baskets with mushrooms, berries, nuts and seeds. It was a successful forage. The conversation was not so successful.

"Don't you like it here, Darling?" Adarna asked Eloise.

"It's too hot and humid. I feel sticky the whole time."

"But we will acclimatize."

"Maybe, but I miss the mountains, the snow and ice. ... Can you hear that?"




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 11



Adarna stopped to listen.

"I hear the wind rustling the tree-tops," she said. "It's a warm wind and gentle. Back home, the wind races down the valley, biting cold, forcing us to stay in the cave for days, unable to risk going out for fear of being blown away."

"Yes, the wind is bracing at home, but I meant the birds. Here they sit on branches and chatter all day long. I miss the lonely screech of an eagle. I don't like all the chirping and jabbering."

"Are you sure it's the birds you mean?" Adarna asked.

"Ha! You think I'm criticising the Woodlanders for being too clingy and loud?"

"We've lived on our own too long, Darling," Adarna said. "Society is something else we need to acclimatise to."

"I suppose you're right. ... Yael likes it here; and you seem to want to stay."

"It's too hot for me, too, but I would endure it for the chance of having a child. It was only a fantasy before for me, but seeing how Annela feels, and Dipti and Sharne, I'm thinking it could be a reality."

"Would you stay if I left?"

"No, I'll go wherever you go."

"I'll try my best to like it here," Eloise said, after a pause, "for your sake and for Yael's, but I can't give an answer yet."

They headed back to the camp through cultivated plots planted with potatoes, carrots and beetroot, where they met Casti and offered to carry her harvest of eggs to the camp. Lenta and Parvinder were weaving when the women passed their hut.

"Good morning, Ladies," Parvinder said. "Help yourselves to breakfast. If it's cold, let me know and I'll cook you some more."

"Thank you, Parvinder, but we're not hungry."

"Of course you're hungry and it's no trouble."

Sharne saw the women approach and got up, stoked the fire in the stove and set the pots heating again. She took plates and spoons and silently invited the women to take seats, indicating the sleepers.

Annela slept sweetly on Ezra's lap. Dipti and Urulla slept side-by-side, arms around each other, heads resting together. Freya gurgled peacefully on Dagma's lap, sucking on her fingers, making milk bubbles in the corners of her mouth.

Taking plates loaded with food to a bench, Adarna whispered to Eloise:

"These are good people."

"I know," she whispered back.

"Not very chatty, either."

"Not at the moment," she admitted, smiling.

The morning was wasted recovering from the party but by the afternoon, everything was back to normal. Ezra, for instance, left the newly-wakened and perpetually hungry Freya at Annela's breast and went off to work on his special project.

5 Ezra's project

Even before the girls returned, Ezra began to construct the equipment he needed to salvage his sunken spaceship, so confident was he that they would come back and would lead him to where they first met.

That afternoon he sat on a bench by the river, surrounded by bamboo poles, strips of cloth, pots of glue, leather bags and wooden paddles. Back from the pigeon hunt, Tamar skipped up to say "Hello."

The old Tamar would have launched into whatever topic had captured her versatile interest, chattering gaily. The new Tamar simply sat down beside him and watched him work. He was whittling the ends of bamboo poles to fit them together, making water-proof seams with bands of cloth dipped in glue. Unobtrusively, at first, she began to help, taking over parts of the task until, working side-by-side, they produced a dozen long poles with flexible joints in them and u-shaped ends.

Then they started on the leather bags and paddles. The bags had a large opening at one end, tied off loosely with string, and a small opening at the other, into which a bamboo tube was fastened. Two wooden paddles were glued to each bag on opposing sides. 

Only now did Tamar ask what he was doing.

"They're bellows," he said. Then he explained what bellows were.

"The whole contraption is designed to allow someone to breathe underwater. Here, I'll show you."

He fastened some poles together in a line, fitted a bellows to one end and an end-piece to the other, knelt in the river and got her to pump the bellows. There was a good stream of air out of the u-shaped end and a few bubbles from the edges of the seams. 

When they'd tested all the bellows and poles, Ezra was pleased.

"Thanks, Tamar. That was good work. I think it's ready. ... Now, young lady, what do you want to ask me? Is it a serious problem?"

"Yes, very serious. I'd ask Annela but she's busy with Freya."

"Thank you for the confidence. So what is so serious that I'm your second-best choice?"

"It's just a feeling. It's hard to explain but everything's changed since I came back. I feel all twisted up, like there's something wrong."

"In what way wrong?"

"I don't know."

"Is it because of your mother?"

"No. Well, a little bit; but not really. Mum's sweet and kind and she doesn't cling to me the way Erin clings to Carlin. I wish she'd cuddle me more. I like it when she brushes my hair after a bath but she doesn't hug me the way Annela does."

"You and Carlin should swap mothers. I'm sure Erin's going to suffocate the poor girl one day."

Tamar smiled at the thought of Erin as her mother.

"However," he continued, "I notice we all still call you Tamar."

"I know. Only Mum and Adarna call me Yael. I was thinking of telling everyone to call me Yael but I've never been known as Yael, not that I remember; I've always been Tamar. Do you think she's unhappy with me?"

"Your mother is a wise woman. I doubt she minds what you're called, so long as you're safe and well. ... As for being unhappy with you. I'm certain it's not so; but would you understand me if I said she might feel a little disappointed?"

"Disappointed by me?"

"No, not by you. Maybe 'disappointed' is the wrong word. But this is what I mean: your mother pined fourteen years for you. She missed you, loved you, yearned for you and wept for you. Then you found her. There you were, 'Large as life and twice as handsome,' as my old Grandma would say; but fourteen years of yearning doesn't dissipate over-night, nor in a week, nor in a month."

"I think I see. It's like what you said when the pipe didn't fit into the bellows. It needs adjustment."

"Exactly! You and Eloise need to adjust to each other. ... I have an inkling that adjustment is also going to be the answer to what you're feeling when you say you're all twisted up. Do Wildchild and Carlin feel the same?"

"They feel it too, but not as much. I don't know how to describe it but it's like I can't get comfortable, that I'm itching or I've got too much energy."

"You're restive, unsettled, agitated."

"Yes."

"I can guess what it is because I've often felt the same when I returned from a prospecting trip. If you're like me, then things happen at a different pace when you're away from home. On your adventure, did things go more quickly and were they more intense? Did you feel you could do twice as much in a morning there than you can do in a whole day here?"

"Yes, that's exactly it!" she exclaimed.

"Well, it takes some time to settle back into everyday life. You feel out-of-sorts when you're back, even disappointed that everything's so normal and slow."

"I knew you'd understand!"

"I do indeed. And because your quest was such a large one - finding the lost Miner tribe and your own mother - and because you were successful, I expect you feel the change much more strongly than the others. It's been a big 'high' to come down from."

She pondered this explanation for a minute.

"What can I do?"

"Well, there are two answers. With time, you'll naturally settle back into the normal pace of life but, to distract you while you settle, take up a new task, especially a difficult one, something to concentrate on. Maybe you could learn to use a bow and arrow."

Tamar had been too small to learn before but with her spurt of growth while she was away, maybe she was big enough now. However, she was still so thin she made a rake seem obese.

"What's the other answer?"

"Go on another adventure."

Tamar smiled with relish at this idea. Then she frowned with thought, a beautiful sight he always liked to see.

"What adventure?" she asked.

"I'm interested in those mountain caves. You say rabbits breed normally there? I presume that male rabbits (or even only one) avoided the effects of the cosmic rays by living in caves. Maybe other male mammals also survived; even a man. There may be people on the far side of the White Mountains."

Tamar sat quietly, thinking.

"It's a long way and there's nothing to eat on top of the mountains."

"But is there another way around the mountains, maybe from the south?"

"I don't know."

"So that's one thing to think about. There are other places to explore, as well. I don't suppose the Woodlanders have explored all the forest. Who knows what there is to see if you set off eastward and just keep going."

"Mountains. There are mountains east of the forest. You can see them from the plain."

"You can see their peaks; but what is there in the forest before you reach the mountains and what kind of mountains are they?"

"I don't know."

"See, there are lots of adventures left."

She mulled it over as she helped Ezra tie up the poles in a bundle and pack the rest of the contraption into baskets. When they finished, they sat back down. Ezra had some questions of his own for Tamar.

"Why does Wildchild hate her mother? ... Don't answer if it's a secret."

"It's no secret among the Herders. Everyone knows that Galatea was training Wildchild to be a chief. She gave her extra tasks and punished her when she failed or disobeyed. Then Wildchild would do things wrong on purpose but Galatea punished her more. She was often sent to her tent without supper. I took her food, until one time they caught me. She never let me help with her extra chores though I offered to share her punishment."

"Why did you do that?"

"Wildchild always loved me, since I was little. And I loved her back. She used to fight with all the other children and some of the adults but she never fought with me. The Herders are rough and the bigger girls sometimes bully the smaller girls but Wildchild never let anyone bully me."

"I see a real connexion between you girls, something almost psychic."

"What does psychic mean?"

"Mind-reading, communicating by thought alone, without speech. Like the way you always know what she's thinking or the fact that you can pacify her when no one else can."

"I can't do that. I can't always understand her but we do usually feel the same things. We both know what it's like to be loved, to have someone always look after you. When I'm bigger and stronger, I'll look after her as much as she looks after me."

"I see. So why didn't Wildchild want to be trained to be chief?"

"I don't know. She just didn't. She thinks I should be chief, but I don't want to, either."

After this talk, Tamar began to feel better. Beside her chores and spending time with her non-clinging mother, she devoted the rest of the week to archery lessons and practising with her bow. She went on pigeon hunts and was always unsuccessful but never stopped trying.

As usual, Tamar told her mother everything. She reported her conversation with Ezra when she and her mother were drying off after bathing together in the river. Eloise, who was braiding Tamar's hair, nodded wisely but said nothing.

She was disappointed that her daughter seemed to reject the name her own mother gave her; at least, she never corrected anyone who called her Tamar. However, Adarna had persuaded her to be philosophical about it. Yael wasn't insulting her but was merely a girl unable to decide exactly how she feels or what she wanted. On every other matter, she was a dutiful daughter.

"Yael," Eloise asked, "do you want to stay in the forest?"

"I want to be with you, Mum, wherever you go."

This was the answer Tamar gave every time she was asked and, this time, Eloise accepted the truth and made up her mind.

* * *

When all the tribe was gathered around the camp-fire for dinner, Eloise told Mirselene that she and Adarna had made a decision.

From her seat on the dais, Mirselene called for silence.

"Madam," Eloise said, "Adarna and I think it's best that we come to the Cloner Fair with you. We haven't seen any of the Miners for a few years and we've lots to tell them."

"A good choice. It will be a merry trip, with good company. ... Anything else?"

"Yes, Madam. ... We are conscious of the great kindness the Woodlanders have shown us and we admire how you live. We would like you to accept us into your tribe."

"A very good choice!," Mirselene exclaimed. "Ladies!" she addressed the tribe in general. "Eloise and Adarna would like to join us. Does anyone object?"

No one did. Mirselene beamed with pleasure but Tamar was the more delighted and hugged her mother.

There were formal matters to agree, of course, to which Mirselene happily proceeded:

"We know you're good workers. Do you agree to perform any reasonable task required to contribute to the commonweal?"

"We do. We also have skills we can teach that the Woodlanders may appreciate."

"Excellent! ... I have told you the rules of the tribe. Do you agree to abide by our laws?"

"We do, Madam."

"One rule applies to you in particular, Adarna. Can I assume you're content to become Ezra's bedmate?"

"Not only content, Madam, but willing!"

There were understanding smiles all around, which made Adarna self-consciously realise she'd spoken too boldly.

"I mean, that is, if Ezra will have me," she added, meekly.

"Don't worry about that," Mirselene imperiously reassured her. "Ezra will do as he's told!"

"Oh, Mother, really!" Dagma was exasperated.

"What is it, Darling? What did I say?"

"Ezra's a man, not a machine. He doesn't copulate to order."

Mirselene stopped short and thought for a minute, blinking.

"Of course, Darling. Thank you. ... Ezra, I apologise. I have been over-bearing and thoughtless. I hope you're not offended."

"Not at all, Madam. I'm honoured that you treat me just like any other Woodlander."

"Well then ..." she started, then stopped, realising that Ezra's statement was double-edged. For a short-sighted woman, Mirselene was capable of a penetrating stare, which she turned on him. Then she relented and smiled.

"I see what you mean, Ezra. You think I'm over-bearing toward everyone. You're right. It's a fault I don't try hard enough to remedy. I will try harder in future."

"Mirselene, I assure you..." Ezra started to say.

"Mother, Ezra didn't mean that at all," Dagma tried to interject.

"Nonsense, I'm not above criticism. Now come on everyone, we have two new members of the tribe to welcome: there is celebrating to do!"

The feast got underway. The kindly Woodlanders did everything they could to assure Eloise and Adarna they'd made a good choice. Nor did Ezra have any complaint about taking Adarna as his bedmate. She was a good-looking woman: brunette, curvy, middle-height with a deep chest and a beckoning smile.

The night descended and the feast finished before the rain came.

* * *

Although she didn't know when she would become Ezra's bedmate, Adarna was keen to learn what sex was like with a man. Before Urulla and Ezra arrived at breakfast next morning, Adarna asked the others what she need to know to do it right.

Sharne, Annela, Dipti and Dagma were present and were happy to give their answers, which conflicted in many details. As always with the Woodlanders, however, this led to a lively discussion. What was shaping up to be an informative morning was unfortunately interrupted by the arrival of the man himself and his current bedmate; so Sharne announced that they were taking Annela foraging. It would be her first long trip away from the camp, where she was going stir-crazy.

The foraging party, armed with empty baskets (and a full one for Freya), left on a hot day to wander in the forest. They found a good spot where Freya could be left, swaddled in light sheets and a blanket in the shade of a tree, and Annela (never out of ear-shot) could help the others pick nuts and berries.

They talked as they worked and whenever the topic tended to stray, Adarna brought it back to sex with Ezra.

They discussed everything, from favourite sexual positions to clitoral versus vaginal orgasms, from going on top or bottom to a man's tongue compared to a woman's. Each bedmate had her own opinion and experience, which was not always enlightening for Adarna. A case in point was the size of Ezra's penis.

Here was a serious debate. Dipti said she wished it were larger; Annela said she didn't want it any larger; and the relentlessly loyal Dagma couldn't be shaken from her conviction that it was the exact perfect size. The women had a merry half-hour arguing until Sharne used her casting vote to decide the matter by agreeing with Dagma.

It so happened that, in another part of the forest, while the women were discussing Ezra's cock, he was stuffing that very organ balls deep into Urulla's warm wet pussy. They had gone foraging on their own, away from the main group, but luckily found some soft bracken to lie on and make love.

When the women were discussing their favourite positions, Urulla had already sucked Ezra to hardness and was riding him slowly. When the women had exhausted the topic of orgasms, Urulla had already lost count of the number of climaxes she'd enjoyed, moaning and gasping in response to Ezra's tongue and fingers.

When everyone agreed that they liked best going on top, Urulla had turned around on all fours, pushed up her bottom and invited Ezra to take her from behind. And by the time Sharne had settled the argument, Urulla's final squeals of pleasure as she hunched and relaxed were Ezra's reward for his hard work ramming her.

* * *

Finally the month was over. Next day was the trade-meeting, after which Ezra would be gone for another two months. It seemed unfair on his bedmates but he intended to come back before Dipti gave birth. He felt guilty about leaving Annela alone with Freya. 

"I'm not alone," she said, in her 'Don't be so stupid' voice; so he resigned himself to leaving and made his preparations.

The Woodlanders were the last to arrive at the trade-meeting and they came in force. There was so much to transport that almost the entire tribe was loaded up with the largest baskets they could shoulder, leaving only Lenta, Annela and Freya behind. Ezra and Dagma between them carried the stack of bamboo poles and the other equipment for his project.

Waiting for them were six Mariners and four Herders with eight horses, who had already made their exchanges and were seated on logs, enjoying a friendly chat. They looked up when the Woodlanders trooped into the camp. Then the Herders stood up, seeing golden-haired Tamar and raven-haired Wildchild (whom they recognised as Samothea, of course, despite her peculiar clothing) march boldly into the camp, followed by a taller women who was unmistakably Tamar's mother and another stranger.

When the Woodlanders were all assembled, the surprise was dying down and Mirselene, puffing with exertion, let down her heavy load with a sigh and gratefully took a seat by the other chiefs.

"Ladies, I have some new members of the tribe to introduce to you," she said, inviting Eloise and the others to come forward (but Wildchild hung back).

"These are Eloise and Adarna, formerly of the Miner Tribe. You know the others, of course. Ladies, this is Solange, chief of the Herders, and Calliope, chief of the Mariners. These are their deputies, Galatea and Ferne."

The women greeted each other. Then there was an awkward silence, until Solange said:

"Hello, Tamar. You're looking very well."

"Thank you, but my name is Yael."

Eloise smiled with pride.




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 12



Author's note:

Thanks for the encouraging comments.

If anyone has sent me a private message, I'm sorry I haven't replied but my emails from Literotica were going into the spam folder and automatically deleted. I didn't realise until recently.

This is a lengthy chapter, with some sex, some humour (I hope), some fictional science, some real science, some history and some details necessary for the later plot. I hope you like it.

*****

The story:

As Ezra and his party trudge across the sunny plain to the Mariner Settlement to start his long-delayed salvage operation, we turn to his family on Earth, who continued with their lives, trusting he was well. His younger sister, Danielle, who thought most often about him in the last year, had twice been too preoccupied by sex with her boyfriend (in chapter 2 and chapter 4) to learn why Samothea had been cut off from the rest of the galaxy.

1 Roger surprises Danielle

Danielle and Roger had been together more than a year and settled into a comfortable rhythm. Both had apartments in Cambridge, England. Danielle, who earned the most, had a spacious modern flat in the town-centre but worked in a high-rise office at an out-of-town science park, except for the class she taught once a week at Trinity College. Roger worked at the university but shared a house with a buddy in the suburbs, where accommodation was cheaper. He saved his money to take Danielle out.

Had they put their brilliant minds together, they could have found a simple way to save money and improve their living arrangements; but they were always busy with work and, when they had time to see each other, had much better things to do than talk about accommodation.

After two weeks apart, during which Roger went home to Boston (Massachusetts, not Lincolnshire), to deliver a lecture, do some research and visit his folks, they decided on a special trip for the coming Saturday. He arranged to pick her up in King's Parade.

It was the first warm day of spring and the dull yellow-grey stones of the Gothic King's College entrance gate, so dismal on a rainy winter's day, now almost sparkled under a clear blue sky. Not only was the college looking good, so were the women of Cambridge, relieved at last to go out in short skirts and skimpy tops. It made a man's heart glad to see them.

Danielle sunned herself on a stone ledge on the Parade, turning the heads of passers-by and attracting the admiration of a group of horny male students. Her flowery sun-dress exposed her generous cleavage. She pulled the dress up to let the rare sun warm her legs.

Like most beautiful women, Danielle was convinced she had flaws. Sometimes she thought her eyes were the wrong shade of blue. Sometimes she thought her forehead was too high. Sometimes she thought her breasts were too large. Sometimes she thought her legs were too plump. Today, however, she was convinced her bum was too big; hence the sun-dress with its wide skirt.

The cause of all this dissatisfaction was the fashion industry, of course, which, even in the twenty-fifth century, elevated emaciated and drug-addled teenagers to the pinnacle of feminine beauty.

The admiring students instinctively knew better. Their erections proved that, to red-blooded males, a woman's physical allure was measured by her pretty face and her curves.

Danielle wasn't offended by the gorping boys. She was teasing them quite innocently, but their enjoyment of the view was spoiled when a tall man appeared behind them. Roger put his hands on the shoulders of the two outlying students and said:

"Gorgeous, isn't she?"

"Oh, yes!" one randy youth agreed before looking around and recognising the history lecturer.

"Oh, God! Sorry Sir."

The boys made a quick escape with barely a glance back at the sexy woman.

"Hello, you're late," Danielle said to her boyfriend.

"Sorry. You ready?"

She stood up and kissed him.

"Yes. Where are we going?"

"I'll tell you on the way. More important is how we get there."

That was intriguing and Danielle waited for the surprise as Roger pressed a button on his communicator. A minute later, the crowds of ambling students and tourists in the high-street parted as a beautiful bright-red vehicle came out of the side-street where Roger left it, and rolled up, its engine making a throaty growl. It stopped at the kerb. Low to the ground, looking muscular and sleek with a chrome grill and wide cooling vents. There was a hiss as its gull-wing doors swung open.

"Is this yours?" Danielle asked.

"Sort of. I've hired it."

"What the devil is it?"

"A car. What your ancestors would have called a motorcar and my ancestors an automobile."

"This isn't a car," she said. "That's a car," pointing at something that looked like a thick mattress with half an Easter-egg on top. It shimmered with vibro-lucent colours in the current fashion, like an electrified cuttlefish, and zipped along almost silently on mag-lev beams about ten feet off the road.

"That's a soulless ugly people-mover. It's plastic, robotic, functional ... it's ..."

"Antiseptic?" she helped him out.

"Exactly!"

"I agree your motorcar looks wilder but you're not telling me it's as safe."

"No but it's more fun. Come on, let's get in."

"I'm not going in that until you tell me how it works."

"Darling, I'm a historian, not an engineer. I've no idea how it works. I just know how much fun it is to drive."

"You've been in it before?"

"A little way this morning, but I've had lessons on other automobiles and practised for hours on a simulator."

She was impressed by the effort he made to surprise her and cut him some slack.

"All right, tell me what you know about the motorcar."

"That I can do. It's an Aston-Martin-Williams. A wonderful collaboration of the Anglosphere two-hundred years ago: Hong Kong money, Yank marketing, British design, Japanese gears, built in India."

"It's two-hundred years old?"

"Re-modelled and rebuilt, though it's based on an original four-hundred years old."

"Four-hundred years! You're joking?"

"Things were solidly built in the past, before everything was metallo-plastic."

"It's ancient!" she protested.

"It's vintage," he countered.

"It's obsolete."

"So am I," he admitted. "I don't fit into the modern world, either."

"That's true."

In fact, it was a reason she loved him. Roger wasn't predictable, like the other antiseptic men she knew. She relented a little.

"What are those?"

"Wheels."

"I can see they're wheels. I mean, why was it rolling on them, not levitating?"

"That's how it works. It's driven by its wheels."

"Good God! You mean it runs on the ground?"

"Of course."

"How fast does it go?"

"220 mph."

"That's about 350 kph, and it's in contact with the ground! How does it turn?"

Roger pointed to the steering wheel.

"That wheel turns the front ones."

"My God! Have you never heard of centripetal force? Friction? Newton's laws of motion? That thing's a death-trap!"

"Yes, but fun. Come one. I'll do my best not to kill us both. Besides, we're insured."

"Just so long as we're insured," she said indulgently. In fact, she was interested in the ancient vehicle and trusted her boyfriend. Even more, she felt a frisson of excitement from the idea of taking a risk. Lately, her life had been so dull.

They got in and the doors closed. Roger addressed the onboard control system:

"Computer."

"Hello, my lover."

It was a woman's voice, a thick West-Country burr, honeyed and sexy, instantly conjuring up the image of curvy blonde woman with plump rosy cheeks and big buttery breasts.

Roger didn't need to look at Danielle to see her arched eyebrows.

"Previous user," he explained. "I forgot to change it. ... Er, Computer, do you have another voice?"

"Sure, buddy. Hank here, where d'you dudes wanna go?"

Danielle's eyebrow hadn't dropped.

"Er, do you have someone more reserved, please?"

"Good morning, Sir. I am Aston. How may I assist you?"

"Thank you, Aston. Can you drive us to the motorway, please? We want to go to north."

"Yes, sir. The motorway is seven miles away, twelve minutes in present traffic. Please fasten your seat-belts."

With a throaty rumble and a slight lift to the front, the car trundled slowly off down the high street. Danielle was impressed by how smoothly it drove over the cobbles and turned sharp corners, weaving through the narrow streets to the main road.

"Why aren't you driving?" she asked.

"I'm waiting until we're on the straight flat road. I'm pretty good at the wheel but I don't want to risk running anyone over."

"Very thoughtful, I'm sure."

She was amused. It was an experience and not unpleasant.

"Tell me why the English and Americans have different name for cars."

"Well, I'm not exactly sure, but I think it's mainly because, in the Twentieth Century, we Americans were trying to forge our own identity and break all ties with the mother-country, even linguistic ones. So this perspex window is a windscreen to you and a windshield to us; the front of the car is a bonnet to you and a hood to us; the back is a boot or a trunk; and this is the gear-stick or a gear-shift."

"Interesting. Who's right?"

"It's half-and-half: we perfected the automobile but you perfected the language."

"Very diplomatic, Roger."

She settled back into the white leather seat and began to enjoy herself. Soon they were at the main road, which they had almost to themselves.

Personal transports generally followed magnetic-levitation strips, which took direct routes across open countryside, so many roads had decayed; but the main roads were maintained in case of emergencies and for heavy freight traffic; and small country lanes were in better condition than ever, dedicated to walkers, cyclists and robot farm vehicles.

"Aston," Roger ordered, "give me manual control."

"Very good, Sir. Would you like me to navigate?"

"Yes, please. We are going to Woolsthorpe Manor, Lincolnshire."

"Woolsthorpe, Lincolnshire, sixty-four miles: forty-eight minutes at top legal speed."

"Here we go," Roger said and put his foot down. The powerful motor roared and the front of the car rose up as it surged forward, pushing them into the backs of their seats.

Now Danielle began to understand the thrill of a powerful sports car. The speed; the thrust of the engine when he accelerated; the vibration of the road felt through her seat; the intimation of danger; and the sense of being safe in his (relatively) expert hands all combined to turn her on. She felt the familiar buzz and longing in her pussy.

"You know," she said, "those antiseptic Easter Eggs have one advantage over this contraption."

"What's that?"

"They have back seats. We could have lain them down and fucked for an hour on the way."

"Yes, that is a disadvantage," he agreed.

"Still, there's nothing to say I can't make you happy while you drive."

"Happy?"

It was a bad habit to repeat what she just said but she was kind enough to forgive him.

"You remember happiness? You studied it in school."

"I recall. ... What are you doing?"

She had her hand on his thigh and stroked gently toward his cock.

"Really, Darling, your education!"

She unzipped his fly and put a hand inside his trousers. His cock's reaction had been so quick that she had to undo his belt and the top of his trousers to get it out. Now it was standing proudly upright, pink and smooth. She began to wank him slowly, with the barest of touches. He sighed deeply.

"I've missed you," she said.

"I've missed you, too."

"I wasn't talking to you, Roger."

"Right you are, Darling."

She tried to lean over to plant a kiss on his cock but the seat-belt restricted her. She took it off.

"Please put your seat-belt back on, Madam."

"Shut up, Aston."

"Yes, Sir."

Now Danielle leaned over into his lap. She put her soft lips around the head of his cock and, with a fluttering tongue, began to lick. He hardened further and she swayed her head as she swirled her tongue around, making pleasant sloppy noises.

Turning her head to one side, she licked with a sawing motion up the shaft, from base to tip and back down.

"Oh, God! That's beautiful, Darling."

Pleasantly distracted, Roger none the less managed to drive surprisingly well, though the road was a dead straight line and the car had emergency steering and brakes.

It was harder to concentrate when she eased his balls out of his trousers and began to lick them, her hand gripping his shaft more firmly and slowly wanking.

She licked upward from the bottom of his cock, her fingers pressing around the base of the shaft, until she got to the tip. She licked around and around it until he groaned: "Oh God! That's beautiful!"

Now she made dipping motions with her head, capturing his cock-head in her mouth and sucking gently before releasing and tonguing around it again.

It was driving him crazy. His cock was full size and straining, the head bright red and hot.

She swallowed down more of his dick, sucking gently, teasing him, half-an-inch more each time, until she had a mouth full. Now she was bobbing her head, adding pressure to her sucking, gently cupping his balls.

He groaned loudly, trying to keep his eyes on the road.

She slowed, making him last, using her hand, sucking only the head, her saliva glistening sweetly in rivulets down his pole.

He wanted to hold her, or stroke her hair, but he daren't take his hands off the wheel. It was increasingly hard to concentrate and he dangerously closed his eyes a couple of times.

Her fingers tightened at the bottom of his shaft. Her head bobbing, she raised his tension wickedly, pulling with more pressure then flicking with her tongue.

He groaned as she sucked, getting more vocal as he neared his peak.

"Oh, God! That's beautiful. Just like that!" he exclaimed.

She bobbed and sucked.

"Oh, God! Oh, God!"

She swallowed more of his cock down, even getting it into her throat a little. She felt his cock begin to twitch. He was almost there.

"That's wonderful!" he said, groaning.

She turned her head more, so her tongue rubbed on the sensitive top of his cock-head.

"God, Darling! It's perfect!"

She bobbed faster and swivelled her tongue side-to-side as she swallowed him down, pulling up with a firm suction. He couldn't last a minute longer. She felt the orgasm starting in the swelling and heat of his cock.

"Oh God!" he cried out.

She sucked down strongly once more.

"Oh God!"

She braced herself, his cock deep in her mouth, her tongue along his pole. She wanked the base of his shaft. It was now!

"Oh my God! My God! ... AUTODRIVE!"

She almost choked from trying to laugh and swallow his cum at the same time. He spurted long deep surges into her throat, but she managed not to spill any and she finished him off nicely, sucking to the final spasm and licking up the drips with relish.

She sat up, one hand on his cock, wanking away the final moments of tension, while he breathed heavily. A small drip of semen ran down her chin. She collected it up with delicate finger-tip.

"Tell me, Roger," she mused. "Are you going to yell 'autodrive' every time you orgasm?"

"Ha, ha. What you were doing distracted me from driving. I almost steered us off the road."

"I thought you said driving is safe."

"It would have been, if you hadn't been slutting me up at the same time."

"Slutting you up? Is that good English?"

"It's not even good American-English but it's apt."

"I don't know if it's apt but think how it would sound: 'Do you, Roger Harcourt, take this woman to be your lawfully married slut?'"

He didn't laugh. Did she know, he wondered?

"I'm joking," she said.

"I know. I'm sorry. I was thinking of something else. There are a couple of things I have to say to you and I want to try to get them right."

"What things?"

"Can I tell you later?"

"Of course you can, Darling. Actually, I've some news for you as well. We can both wait."

They were silent for the rest of the drive to Woolsthorpe Manor, which Roger left to Aston to accomplish, while Danielle sat back in her seat, enjoying the ride, smiling with self-satisfaction, chewing a stick of mint-gum.

2 At Woolsthorpe Manor

When they parked and set off for the entrance, Roger said:

"I'm shocked you've never been to Woolsthorpe Manor, Danielle, the childhood home of Sir Isaac Newton, the greatest scientist there has ever been, a fellow of the very college at which you now teach physics."

"Yes, my education has been a miserable failure. Thank heaven you're here to put it right."

"Indeed. I'll start your instruction immediately."

He gave her the brief facts of Isaac Newton's life, adding:

"In 1655, when he was just twenty-two, Cambridge University shut due to the plague. Newton came home and, in two years of effort, invented the laws of optics, mechanics and gravitation and something called calculus, having previously discovered the binomial theorem."

"Gosh, Roger, that's wonderful memorising. How much of it do you understand?"

"Not a thing," he happily admitted. "Though I've picked up some science from listening to you."

"Like what?"

"Well, I know the sun goes around the earth and the moon goes around the sun. Beyond that, however, I'm clueless."

"Idiot!"

"Charming idiot?"

"No, just idiot." But she graced him with one of her happiest smiles.

At this moment, a fluffy pink lady, with a big red jolly face, a long flowery dress and sensible shoes, came bustling out of the old stone farmhouse. She'd spied them out of the window of the reception. Fussing busily, she carried communicators hanging on lanyards over her wrists and a small stack of thin clip-boards with crayons.

"How many little angels?"

"I beg your pardon?" Roger replied.

"Children? How many children have you got?"

"None," he said, not following her line of enquiry.

"Oh, what a relief! I know we're supposed to think young people are delightful, especially as most of our visitors are school parties, but, really, they can be such nuisances! ... These clip-boards are for them, to keep them happy and stop them disturbing other visitors and breaking things."

"I'm Gladys," she said, by way of self-introduction, "It's my job to sell you tickets. Two is it? ... Very good. ... I'll bring you some change ... You'll have to tell me if I'm talking too much. I have a habit of running away with myself. It's so nice to have visitors who are normal people, not mannerless schoolchildren or fusty antiquarians."

"Well, one out of two isn't bad," Danielle consoled her. "Do you show us the house or do we go around on our own?"

"You go around on your own. There are holographic guides in all the rooms. Feel free to talk to them but, frankly, they're too inhuman for my taste. You can use one of these devices instead. Press here and a nice man will tell you about each exhibit. ... When you're done, take a seat in the garden and I'll bring you over some tea and cakes. I bake them myself."

"Thank you, Gladys. We look forward to tea."

"Very good. Come this way: I'll show you where the exhibition starts."

Though old cottages can be quaint, Woolsthorpe was not a beautiful house. The countryside around, dissected into uneven fields by grey stone walls or low hedges and festooned with sheep, had a featureless beauty of its own, especially in the sunshine, but the main attraction of the house was its age and its association with one of the greatest minds in history.

The exhibition was light on Newton's science, assuming only physicists on pilgrimage would care to learn any mathematical details, but it was impressively thorough on the man himself, outlining Newton's alchemical experiments, his studies in Biblical chronology and his work at the Royal Mint, besides mock-ups of his experiments in optics and his reflecting telescope.




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 12



Knowing the science herself, with Roger giving her the historical background and the holograms (dressed in ancient fashion and adopting inaccurate 'country' accents) providing the social context, Danielle felt by the end that she'd been truly immersed in Newton's life. It was a relief to walk out into the fresh air of the garden and to sit at a bench near the fabled apple tree (or its great-great-granddaughter).

Gladys brought out a tray of tea and cakes with elegant china and napkins decorated with pink flowers. She sat down next to Danielle. A woman who craved company, Gladys made the most of her few acceptable visitors.

"Well, what do you think of my gentleman?"

It took them a few seconds to realise she meant Isaac Newton.

"He's an inspiration to us all, the nonpareil of geniuses."

Danielle thought Roger was laying it on a bit thick but she smiled her agreement with his judgment.

"He is, isn't he?" Gladys gushed, "Though he was not in every respect an admirable character - all those priority disputes and the like, and he never married - yet no one touches him for brilliance, not even now."

"Indeed," Roger agreed. "Danielle, here, has the privilege of teaching physics at Trinity college. ... Ouch!"

His exclamation was because Danielle pressed her heel into his instep.

"Oh," Gladys said, "so you understand all that mathematical stuff?"

"Yes."

"But you are such an elegant young lady!"

"Ahem!"

"I mean, you don't seem like a mathematician, not cold or intellectual at all ..."

Danielle could only stare as the fluffy old dear rattled on. Not all she said was nonsense, however.

"I always think Sir Isaac's failing was because he wasn't much of a people person," she said. "All that physics. It's just things. And the people who come and study him. Historians. All just dead things."

"Ah yes. Roger, here, is an expert on the Commonwealth and Restoration periods."

Danielle smiled her 'I got you back' smile but Gladys's own smile unexpectedly widened. She beamed benevolently at the pair.

"Ah, then you're perfect for each other... I just so adore when a courting couple comes to visit."

Clearly her mind had been addled by reading too many romantic novels but Danielle was amused. She tried to use the mad woman to tease Roger.

"What gave us away?"

"Well, you sit so close together; and he held all the doors open for you."

"Roger is neurotically polite and he's got no sense of personal space."

"Also, the way you look at each other," Gladys pursued her idea as if Danielle hadn't spoken, "it's so romantic, so human. I go on and on, I'm afraid. You'll have to stop me, but I think there's too little romance in the world, too little genuine feeling."

"I was saying exactly that to Roger on the way here, wasn't I, Darling?"

"Were you, Dear? Sorry, I don't remember you talking much at all."

"Romance is dead, I said to him, Gladys, romance is dead."

"Oh, I hope not, my dear," Gladys gushed, adding in a whisper that Roger couldn't fail to hear. "He seems a fine young man. I'm sure he's just waiting for the right moment to pop the question."

"Gosh! Do you really think so?"

"Well, I wouldn't be surprised," she whispered. "Though young men seem to lack a certain gumption nowadays, I'm sure your young man has more 'go' in him than most."

"Oh yes, he does. He's quite useful, really."

The two women nattered conspiratorially for a while, until another visitor arrived, forcing Gladys to rush off and fuss over him.

When it was certain she wasn't returning, Danielle said:

"She's a CCD short of a telescope but I like her. ... You're very quiet. What are you thinking about?"

"You, of course."

"Liar!"

"All right, Restoration politics."

"Is that the thing you wanted to talk to me about?"

"No, not exactly, but you said you've got something to say as well. Why don't you go first?"

"Ladies first, is it?"

"Indulge me: I'm old-fashioned."

"All right. ... I've been offered a job on Celetaris. It's the chance to join an astrophysics department at a research facility, the Celetaris Institute for Science. Post-grad teaching only, and as much or as little as I want. The rest of the time, I can research. I can bring my own team or recruit when I get there."

"I don't know Celetaris."

"It's about 170 light years from here, on a small planet with a free-port on the border between the Anglosphere region and the Sino-Russian region. They've enjoyed a rapid advance in wealth and technology and now they want to spend their profits on science and culture. Lots of ambitious people are moving there."

Celetaris was a rich community, a former colonial settlement that became a self-governing dominion twenty years previously. With abundant natural resources and on a prominent trade-route, it had prospered well and grown quickly, attracting industrialists and investors. After concentrating too long solely on economic development, however, the chief residents began to miss the comforts and amenities of home. With magnificent civic pride, they set up institutions to promote Earth culture, building a university, art-galleries, libraries and even an opera house.

High wages attracted academics, scientists, artists, musicians and architects. Beautiful plasto-steel and perspex cities were now growing up on the granite escarpments of the planet's rocky surface, replacing the low-rise fabrications that, however homely, were always intended to be temporary.

"Celetaris is wonderfully placed for onward space-travel to quite promising regions of the galaxy," Danielle explained. "There's cutting-edge work to be done on hyperspace pathways. You know, I've gone about as far as I can in my present job. On Celetaris, we could have a good life in a young colony that wants to progress and grow. What do you think?"

"It's an amazing opportunity, Danielle. Congratulations! How come it's just appeared?"

"Well, when my latest project officially ended last week, I thought I'd look around to see what jobs were available. The day after I put my name on the agency's books, I got contacted. Recruiters work quickly - everything for Celetaris is being done at double-speed - and they found me this post. I applied and an offer came through yesterday. An old professor of mine, Hendrik Jakovs, is at Celetaris and he recommended me. I haven't given an answer. I wanted to ask your opinion first."

"It's an amazing opportunity," he repeated. "It's just what you want, isn't it?"

"I want us both to go. I'm not going without you."

"But what could I do there?"

"I'm told there are lots of opportunities. You could teach history at the university. Also, because it's a border planet, you could teach at a Russian school. They're big on anything Anglosphere at the moment because our colonies fare so much better than theirs. They want to know our secret."

"When would you go?"

"They want me to start in October but I'd rather go a month early to get acquainted with the place. They're offering accommodation and assistance with the move."

"September? That's only three-and-a-bit months away."

He was silent a minute.

"Well," she asked, "what do you think?"

"I'm not committed to staying here, though my main research is on Earth. I'd like to come with you."

"Are you sure? Don't you want to think some more?"

"I'm sure - but I will think some more about it."

She was sincere in wanting him to ponder it, however much his "yes" pleased her.

"So what do you have to say to me?" she enquired.

"Nothing important. It can wait. It doesn't compare to your news."

"All right. I'll wait."

They sat on the bench, finishing the seed-cake, enjoying the afternoon sun. After a few minutes' silence, Danielle said:

"Darling?"

"Yes, Dear?"

"Do you remember the rule we agreed when we first got together?"

"That Friday night is oral sex night?"

"No, a different rule."

"That you will always order your own dessert and not say you don't want one and then eat half of mine?"

"No, and I never agreed to that."

"Well, then, what rule?" he asked.

"The rule that we wouldn't be like those silly romantic couples who, if one of them has something important to say, he won't say it because he thinks it will upset the other."

"Yes, all right, that rule."

"Well?"

He paused to sort out his ideas.

"I've also been offered a job, but it requires staying on Earth for six-months or maybe a year."

"What's the job?"

"It's a broadcast series based on my book."

"That's brilliant!" She was genuinely pleased for him. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I only got the offer a few days ago. I was saving it up for today, to surprise you."

"All right, I'm surprised. Tell me all about it."

"You know I gave a talk in Boston last week?"

"Yes, on The Three English Revolutions."

He'd practised the lecture on her but she remembered the title because it was the same as his book.

"Afterward, someone from the Anglosphere Free Market Institute came over to talk with me. He said he was impressed and told me about a program they run whereby academics are introduced to film-makers and journalists to publicise their ideas. He thought my book would make an ideal broadcast series and offered to take up my cause."

"Next day, he and I had a video call with a producer. The producer liked the idea of three videos, one for each revolution, giving its background and results, with lashings of historical detail, going back to before Magna Carta. He even suggested I might like to be the presenter."

"Gosh!" Danielle exclaimed. "I thought broadcast presenters had to be good-looking and charismatic."

"They agreed to make an exception in my case. ... Actually, I've no interest in being the presenter. They should use a celebrity; but they want me to test for it, anyway."

"Oh, Darling. That's wonderful! I'm so proud of you."

"Yes, but it's moot now. We're going to Celetaris."

"Not if you've got a video contract. We're staying here, at least until you've made your film."

"But your job-offer?"

"There'll be others. Every colony needs hyperspace engineers."

"Not all colonies are alike. Celetaris sounds perfect. I want to go there."

"No you don't, Roger. Most days you don't want to leave the university library. Could you live in a society that didn't have thousand-year-old buildings?"

"Of course I could, if I'm there with you."

"Now who's talking romantic nonsense? ... I'm staying here with you."

"No, we're going to Celetaris."

"Why do you get to have your own way and not me?"

"Because I'm the man: I'm in charge."

"Are you now?"

"Well, for the moment, if you'll let me. ... Look, Darling, there's no certainty my series will ever be made, but your opportunity is a real one. I know you think you've gone as far as you can in your present role, and my job will always be the same, whether I make a film or not, so it makes sense we both go to Celetaris."

"No, it makes sense that we compromise."

"How?"

"I go to Celetaris. You stay here to finish the video project ..."

"No!" he interrupted.

"... then you come and join me. That is, if you really want to leave Earth."

"I want us to be together. I don't care where."

"Besides," she added, "if you're worried about getting a position at Celetaris, then an Earth historian who is also the presenter of an acclaimed video series would have an advantage."

"It's not even made yet, still less acclaimed."

"It will be both. ... So tell me about the broadcast series."

"All right. Its main point is the difference between the English revolutions and other revolutions, best illustrated by our American Revolution."

"The third English revolution?"

"That's right. You paid attention."

"Of course I did! You argued that the American Revolution was the third in the series of English revolutions (I forget the dates) ..."

"1642, 1689 and 1776."

"... and not a new kind of revolution, because - something about ancestral rights and replacing tyranny with democracy."

"That's right, contrary to what we're taught, that our American revolution was a progressive revolution, driven by Enlightenment values, with the aim of creating a new kind of society, it was really a conservative revolution, driven by the old English ideals of liberty and individual rights. All the colonists asked for was the same ancient rights as native Britons and it was only when the King pig-headedly refused that they took up arms."

"Since then, however, the American Revolution has been an inspiration to revolutionaries all over the world, and also in the outworld settlements. But while the American revolution was successful and re-established the rights of man, most later revolutions have been disasters and only replaced one tyrant with another, sometimes a worse tyrant. For three centuries, almost every revolution in Europe, Russia, China, Africa and the Caliphate ended in despotism and, sometimes, even social collapse. Not a single one adopted either the English or the American Bill of Rights, for example."

"Why did they all fail?" she asked.

In answering, his voice took on a rhetorical sing-song tone.

"They destroyed the old order and tried to build a new society on new foundations. But the American Revolution was a shining beacon of liberty and individualism, not a cleansing destruction and sanctifying blood-letting. It modified the old system, re-establishing lost rights: it didn't demolish the old system. ... And I found a neat piece of evidence just recently from my home town to support the fact of continuity between England and America."

"Go on." She always encouraged his enthusiasms.

"In Boston, we're proud of a revolutionary called Paul Revere, who rode to Lexington summoning the patriots by warning them 'The British are coming!'"

"I remember the story."

"But it's untrue. Revere was British himself and so were the patriots. He really said 'The Regulars are coming out!' (The Regulars were the army, the Redcoats.)"

"All right, but so what?"

"So what is that I researched when the change was made to public school books. It was in the twentieth century, long after the revolution. This is when we Americans were trying to invent a new history for ourselves that downplayed our attachment to the mother-country."

Danielle was impressed by his passion even when she didn't fully follow his argument.

"So why is the Free Market Institute interested in your book?"

"Because of its contemporary relevance. There's a lot of tension at the moment between some of the out-world settlements and Earth."

Danielle nodded. She knew this from her father, a diplomat in the service of the Anglosphere, who said (with characteristic under-statement) that it was "an interesting time" in galactic politics.

"Dad says the richer Anglosphere colonies want more independence from Earth."

"They do," Roger agreed, "and most of them get it by a gradual process of increasing self-government, evolving from colony to dominion to independent federal polity. Some others don't want such a gradual and peaceful process, however. They're the ones who are at odds with Earth and the older settlements."

"So what's driving it?" she asked.

"Lots of things. Envy and stupidity on both sides, for instance; but the really dangerous problem is from unscrupulous demagogues who gain power by pretending they're freeing an oppressed people from unjust foreign rule. People like Alexander Marazon."

"Who is he?"

"Did you ever hear of a settlement called Marazonia?"

"I think so."

"It's gone back to its original name of New Exeter. It's a settlement about 300 light-years from Earth. A tiny frozen world that was colonised about eighty years ago. But it never lived up to its potential. The problem was that the terraforming costs were so great that the settler company had a huge debt to recover. Then they had the bad luck that a temporary contraction in galactic trade meant products from the mines in its asteroid belt were less valuable than they'd been when the colony was founded."

"The settler company couldn't attract more settlers or investment to support the colony, so it began to decline. It then became attractive to drifters, hucksters, carpet-baggers: all those who feed off other people's bad luck."

"One of these was a demagogue called Alexander Marazon, who claimed to represent the settlers who'd sunk their fortunes into the colony and couldn't now leave. He said the settler company was exploiting them and persuaded the colony to declare independence, electing him as President - a modern-day George Washington, or so he pretended."

"He unilaterally cancelled all the debts and nationalised the settler company's property. For a few years, things seemed to go well. They felt rich, spending all the money they'd otherwise pay in rent. The settler company fought back in the courts, of course, and though it took ten years, finally won the case. It was another few years before the government applied the judgment by imposing sanctions."

"Marazon tried to resist. He renamed the colony 'Marazonia' and ruled it as a tyrant but the colony was isolated and the stolen money ran out, so the economy began to collapse. Marazon tried to give the planet to the Chinese but diplomatic pressure prevented it. Eventually, he fled and, after negotiation, the colony rejoined the Anglosphere. Though even more heavily indebted now than before, trade picked up, new investors were found and the economy began to recover; but it was too late for the settler company, which had debts from another venture that had previously gone awry. Can you guess which one?"

"Samothea, for sure."

"Dead right. The two failures pushed the company into bankruptcy and its assets were bought by Outworld Ventures, for whom your brother has done prospecting work."

"Interesting," she noted. "So how does it fit into your project? Surely the message to other colonies thinking of achieving independence in such a dishonest way is obvious."

"Yes, one would think so; but it all ended fifty years ago and the temptation of cancelling debts by declaring independence is ever-present. The real problem, however, is that it makes colonisation more risky and more expensive; so settler companies are not so adventurous as before."

"I think I saw some proof of that in the difficulty Ezra had getting backers for his latest venture," Danielle volunteered. "So what can be done about it?"

"Not a lot. The Anglosphere government reformed the Planetary Homesteading Law to make it more attractive for settler companies to risk their capital; but government cannot intervene directly in the economy - thank God for that, of course. History shows it's much better to have a free market, even if some big companies fail."

"I've never seen you so passionate about politics," Danielle said. "You definitely have to make the video. You should talk to my Dad."

"Already done so, last week."

"You did? You never said."

"Rather misses the point of a surprise, doesn't it? Anyway, your Dad gave me some useful information and agreed to be interviewed, if the video goes ahead. He has led negotiations with colonies threatening to break away."

Danielle was silent again, thinking.

"If you're definitely coming with me to Celetaris," she said, "then I know exactly what you should do."

"What should I do?"

"Make a sequel to your book looking at how the colonies who unilaterally declared independence have fared. I know this is all recent history but it's still history, isn't it? And we can visit some of them on the way to Celetaris."

"Yes, a fourth film in the series!" He was impressed. "It's an excellent idea. Even a fifth film is possible, based on those colonies that look like they may be planning to break-away. Your Dad gave me some names to watch out for. ... Thanks, Darling. You always have good ideas."




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 12



"I do, don't I?" she agreed. "Here's another good idea. ... Let's get married!"

"Well that's romantic! I'm glad you put so much effort into your proposal."

"It's not a proposal, idiot. ... I mean, I suppose it is a proposal. But I didn't plan it."

"Clearly not. You know, a man likes to be wooed; to be brought somewhere special; to be made a fuss of ..."

"Yes, very funny, Roger. ... Roger? What are you doing?"

He was kneeling down, fishing in his pocket for something. He took her hand.

"What's this?"

He held out the ring, a brilliant diamond glistening in the afternoon sun, clasped in a ring of white gold.

"Danielle Goldrick. I love and adore you. You are my ideal woman. You are everything I ever wished for, every joy I dreamed of, everything good and beautiful I ever wanted. ... Will you marry me?"

She couldn't speak. Tears - unexpected, unbidden - smarted in her eyes. She cursed herself for being so wet.

"It's customary to give an answer - a polite one," he suggested, " so a poor fellow can get up."

"Get up, get up! Of course I'll marry you. ..." She was crying now. "... I'd hate to disappoint Gladys."

They kissed. It was a sweet, beautiful moment as they stood in silence, holding each other, savouring the feeling. He held her tightly, using his arm muscles to relieve the tension bursting out of his chest. She couldn't breathe but she didn't care.

"I didn't expect to be this happy, Darling," he said, releasing her. "I was in love with you a minute ago and I'm in love with you now, but it feels different somehow."

"I know exactly. It's because its real ... though it still feels like a dream."

"You're my dream and my reality."

They kissed again and were silent. When they spoke, it was at the same time.

"Sorry, you first," he said.

"I said: Mum will want a huge party, with all our families, friends and two-hundred notable guests - celebrities, ambassadors, you name it - all at a swanky hotel, or probably an island in the Seychelles. ... I don't want that."

"Neither do I, though my folks will expect something spectacular as well."

"So let's get married soon, just our families and a few close friends. In a year, when you've done your film, we can have a big party, for our parents' sake."

"When do you suggest?"

"First June, so it'll be easy for you to remember."

"That's in about six weeks, Is that long enough?"

"You know Mum, that's plenty for her and it'll keep her busy. ... Oh, Darling, I'm so happy I could burst!"

She hugged him.

"Me too. ... Shall we go home, or do you want to give Gladys the good news?"

They left via the reception, so Gladys could fuss over the ring while Danielle gloated. Back in the car, Roger said:

"Aston, take us home, please - the scenic route."

"Please specify 'scenic route', Sir?"

"Country lanes with high hedges, a pretty village with thatched cottages, a cricket pitch and a duck-pond."

It had been his plan to find a spot in one of those quaint little villages to propose, probably by the duck-pond.

"I understand, Sir. Route selected. Estimated time of travel: one-hour, fifteen minutes."

"Scratch that, Aston," Danielle countermanded. "Get us home as quickly as possible."

"Very good, Madam. Route selected. Estimated time of travel: forty-nine minutes."

"What's wrong, Darling?"

"Nothing. I just want to go home and have sex."

"Why?"

"What do you mean, why?"

"I approve, of course, but why must we rush?"

"Because we're getting married in six weeks and I want our wedding night to be special, so I'm making this rule: no sex while we're engaged."

"Six weeks?"

"Oh, yes."

"All right, but aren't we engaged right now?"

"I think you'll find our official engagement begins at one-minute past midnight tonight."

"Well, technically, Darling ..."

"Technically? You mean, 'Technically, I don't want sex with my horny girlfriend for six hours straight, though I've not seen her in a fortnight.'"

"Hmm, quite so, Darling, I spoke stupidly."

"I forgive you, Roger," she was very gracious, "... depending on your performance tonight."

They held hands all the way home and, with a minor squabble about whose apartment they would spend the night in (his was prepared but hers was more comfortable) they agreed to pick up the food and wine from his place and were at hers by 6pm and in bed five minutes later.

3 Celebrating their engagement

Naked, warm and very randy, they lay together kissing, side-by-side, his left hand in her hair, his right hand massaging a large firm tit, the pink nipple erect and aching for his lips. Sure enough, he pushed her onto her back and worked his mouth sensuously down her pale neck and shoulders to the inviting nipple, loving the leap of her response to his hard suction.

He licked, kissed and sucked her nipples to his heart's content, and almost to hers as well; and then he worked his way further down her smooth curvy body. She had a thin waist, a nicely smooth belly, wide hips and a bottom exactly big enough to give him something to hold onto or slap as the fancy took him.

She loved when he kissed her ribs, so he gave lots of attention to those ticklish articles, but the thing to get her really going was to kiss slowly down the inside of her thighs on the way to visiting her pussy. Here he lavished his attention.

With a loving tongue and a gently probing finger, her gave her a series of teasing climaxes. Sensuous flicks of his tongue over her clitoris, an aching stretch from an elongated finger pressing down in her snatch, then short come-hither rubs with a finger-tip on her g-spot, took her many times to the edge but each time he stopped short.

Danielle couldn't help sighing. Her joyful moans were, at the same time, disappointed complaints.

She told herself not to beg for it, though she was more than ready. They knew they had to go slowly, to make it last. With six hours to have enough sex to satisfy them until the wedding night, they had to pace themselves. But what her conscious mind said, her erotic body contradicted. She bucked automatically, her hands in his hair, holding his head to her pussy. Eventually he pulled away.

"You taste lovely, Darling," he said.

It was always nice to hear it but she could say only "Mmm" in reply. Moaning deep in her throat, her eyes shut and back arched, she was hot, wet and aching to be filled; but she couldn't trust herself to speak, in case she wantonly begged for it.

Trying to hold off the pleasure was worse than succumbing to it. All her responses provoked and invited him. Roger knew the sounds of her begging moans and, at last, decided it was time.

He lay on her again, mouth to mouth, her legs spread wide. He pushed his hot hard cock deep inside. Despite her urgent need, he went slowly, gently, more patiently than she wanted, fucking her to a lento rhythm, each stroke a small step in the long path to her peak. She bucked in rhythm and held his waist. His tongue was in her mouth and she sucked on it, urging him on with a hum in her throat.

About five minutes later he shifted position. She sighed as he withdrew. He stretched her left leg up her body, holding it by the ankle. She shifted her bottom to give him better access and then sighed as he entered her again, enjoying the stretch and the different feeling of pressure on her vagina.

Again, he went slowly. Her moans filled the bedroom and, in a couple of minutes, she was nicely aroused again, climbing onto the plateau.

After another few minutes, however, he again shifted position, pushing her right leg up so her ankles were by her ears, her knees squashing her tits. Her bottom was wantonly raised off the bed, making a highlight of her soaking pink pussy, its damp eagerness craving his cock.

"Now he's got to finish me off," Danielle thought to herself. "I can't stay in this position all night;" but when he laid on her and stuffed his cock into her vagina, he still went slowly, giving her just enough friction to get achingly aroused but not enough to take her over the edge. It was frustrating in the best possible way and she was too nicely trapped under him to squirm or buck.

Yet another five minutes or so and he withdrew again and pulled her to the edge of the bed, turning her onto her left side, legs together, knees brought up to her chest, her bottom hanging over the edge, the red-cushioned edges of her pussy an irresistible target between the pink globes of her lovely round buttocks.

Standing by the bed, he held her waist with one hand, his other hand on her upper thigh and began fucking her again. Here was another pleasant position for her. She relaxed and let the sensual rhythm flow over her, starting her once more on the slow rise to a heavenly peak. She moaned with a breathy urgent whine, the ache in her pussy spreading along her thighs and up her belly to her throat. She felt the tightening, the bunching muscles before a big release - and then he stopped again, pulling out, leaving her vacant and unfulfilled.

As he lifted her left leg up along his body, she found her voice and protested, saying "Darling, please! Every time I get comfortably aroused and near to coming, you stop. What are you doing?"

"Everything," he replied.

"What do you mean, 'everything'?"

"I mean, this is our last chance for sex in six weeks, so I am doing every position I can think of."

She smiled and relaxed.

"Ah! Now I understand. All right, carry on."

She arched her back to stick her bum out more, inviting his penetration again.

"Just let me finish when I ask."

"Will do."

He pushed his cock in and began thrusting.

Now she knew what he was up to, she enjoyed it all the more. It may take her a couple of minutes to get into it after each change of position, but he was making it last and the slower the build up, the bigger her finish at the end. She was soon back on the plateau, whining and moaning with arousal, egging him on.

He stopped again, pulled out and raised her other leg, pushing her onto her back, her bum at the edge of the bed, her legs up his body, held together at the ankles. Here was a position she loved because he usually hit the g-spot with every thrust. Now he worked her a little harder, speeding up, guided by her moaning cries, his thumb between her legs, flicking over her clitoris.

"Yes! ... That's good! ... That's good!" she wailed. "Just like that!"

Her encouraging cries tailed off into incoherent moans as, this time, it was certain she was going to make it to the end. Crisp and needy chirrups were the sign she was close. He left her clit alone and bent her knees so her feet were flat on his chest, pushing up her bum a little and giving her a stretch.

He thrust faster. The tension was irresistible for him as well. There was no stopping either of them now. His hard drilling jolted and rocked her. Finally, the peak, so long delayed, arrived and erupted, shaking her thighs, clamping her pussy muscles on his cock in rhythmic pulses. She yelped and went quiet. Hot joy coursed over her skin. Her pulse beat in her ears.

He kept up the rhythm. She gasped and shook again. A splash of her squirt dribbled down her buttocks. Another sodden climax made her cry out. Then he cried out as well and made his final thrust, gripping her tightly, his load of tension released in splurges as the barely bearable pleasure boiled up and slowly melted away.

They stayed in place, breathing heavily, letting the tension ebb, then she wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him into her. He lay on her and she raised her mouth to his for a satisfying kiss. Afterward, she smiled up at him.

"Autodrive?" she said, sweetly.

"Autodrive," he agreed.

After a short rest they started again. She sat astride him, took his cock in and swivelled her pelvis, making slow figures-of-eight, rubbing her clitoris over his pubic hair. When she wanted more friction, she bucked straight up-and-down. After some time, she raised herself to a squatting position and rocked back and forth on his cock.

As before, they changing position every so often. From the cowgirl stance, she leant backward to give a stretch to his cock, supporting herself on her arms and thrusting with her pelvis. Then she sat sideways on him for a while and swivelled, before turning her back to him and riding him leaning toward his feet.

From here, she performed a gymnastic move she'd never tried before. She stretched her legs out almost to the splits, lay on him still facing his feet and moved only her pelvis. This position got her off with a noisy climax. Her legs shook and she squealed with pleasure.

Afterward, she climbed on him again, lying on her back, legs apart, bent at the knees, feet flat on the bed. She guided his cock into her pussy and began to buck. He could thrust from underneath, so they shared the workload. She let her head drop back and turned it so they could kiss.

The position really hit the spot for her. She changed the angle slightly by pushing herself up on her arms, making a crab pose and thrusting with her whole body. A viewer from the side would have found it irresistibly erotic: her thick blonde hair cascading onto the bed; the wobble of her big tits topped by toothsome pink nipples; her thin waist and taut belly, glistening with sweat; her white pelvis beating out the rhythm; and her succulent pink pussy, filled with hard cock.

She came again and again. Only good insulation prevented her ecstatic cries from disturbing her neighbours as she reached her crisis moments. Every position brought her off, one way or another.

The lovers went for an hour or so, fucking slowly. Roger held off coming by stopping between every change of position. When he did come at last, it was in one of their favourite positions. He sat upright on the bed, knees raised, and she sat in his lap. They worked their pelvises together as he sucked on her tits and she held his shoulders.

She came first and her convulsions set him off, milking his cock of its load in joyful spasms. Then they lay together, breathing heavily, sweaty and glowing.

Having performed heroically and come twice, Roger needed a rest. Danielle was in a dreamy state, fulfilled and warmly relaxed. Unable to remember how many times she'd come, she bathed in the adoration of a man whose life seemed dedicated to pleasing her.

After resting fifteen minutes, she got up. Having missed lunch, it was a good idea to rebuild their strengths with some dinner. Leaving Roger semi-conscious, Danielle went to the kitchen and heated up the food.

She woke him and they ate slowly, sitting at the high kitchen table in their bathrobes. Then came dessert. There was only one, a small pot of fruity ice-cream. It was Roger's but Danielle insisted on having a taste.

"You should have ordered your own," he said. "You can have a spoonful but no more."

"All right."

"I'll choose the spoon."

She pouted in protest that he didn't trust her.

"And I'll feed you."

She smiled contentedly.

He dug out a spoonful and brought to her mouth. She ate it in a sensual, almost lascivious, way, with such pleasure that he said, "All right, you can have another spoonful." He fed her again and she licked her lips.

"Yum!" she said, which he knew was feminine for "more."

He fed her a third time and now there was a large mouthful left for him. He started offering it to her but when she opened her mouth, he swivelled the spoon and dropped the ice-cream down her front, through the gap in her robe, onto her bare tits.

"Now look what I've done," he said, and pulled the robe apart to get to the melting dessert with his mouth. It took him a few minutes to lick all the ice-cream off, especially because he licked in places the ice-cream hadn't fallen; but that was all right: Danielle adored having her tits adored.

It was clear that food and rest were beginning to invigorate him, so Danielle left her robe in the kitchen and led him by hand to the shower, where they washed each other and dried in a blast of hot-air.

In the bedroom, she lit the candles and got herself ready for the final two hours before midnight, which included fetching a tube of lubricant from the cabinet. She put it on the bed, saying:

"I want us to do everything we did before dinner, but this time stick it up my bum."

"Very happy to oblige, my lady."

They kissed and were warmly entwined when her dampness showed she was ready for more. He got her to kneel on the bed, pushing her bottom up in the air.

He eased her into it with liberal dollops of lube on his fingers, tenderly rubbing around her tight small hole. She shut her eyes and relaxed to the delicious sensation as he pushed a finger gently in and twisted it, smearing around a thick layer of cool gel. Soon he had two fingers in and she was breathing deeply, sighing and encouraging him on.

She loved anal sex because the slight pain at first made her feel submissive. Also, the rub on the nerves in her vagina was softened. She took longer to climax, building slowly, which made her orgasms last longer. But the main reason she liked anal so much was because Roger liked it. They were attuned in a special way now, so that her pleasures enhanced his and his pleasures enriched hers.

Danielle went on top again. He was flat on the bed. She squatted over him. With a gasp and some un-lady-like grunts, she enveloped his cock in her tight hole and began to ride him. Now she squealed as the pleasure grew. She changed to a kneeling position, then belly to belly; as before, changing position every few minutes.

Roger's third orgasm came when she was on her back on the bed, her bottom supported by a pillow, her legs in a wide V pointing upward. He knelt in front and held her thighs in his arms as he thrust to the finish into her arse. Her head hung backward over the edge of the bed, where the blood rushed to her brain, making her dizzy but also empowering her orgasm, spreading and deepening its impact. She had a series of the softest and most tingling orgasms of her night before he finally came with a groan and a sense of relief that he did finish before he collapsed from exhaustion.

After a good rest and some incoherent talk, it was time for the big finish, With a generous application of lube, they started the fourth quarter in a 'reverse missionary' position.

Danielle was on her front, leaning up on her forearms, legs spread wide across the corner of the bed, her back arched steeply. Roger pumped her arse hard from behind. The sharp angle pressurised the walls of her vagina to graze her g-spot and press her clitoris into the bed for another deep and luscious orgasm with a satisfying squirt.

They ended the night in their favourite position again. She sat in his lap and they thrust their pelvises together while he gave her tits the sucking they deserved. She came first, gripping him tightly while the convulsion lasted, her thighs shaking involuntarily. When he came in her arse soon after, it felt almost the same to her as when he came in her pussy. She sat on him a good while, bucking her pelvis, rubbing her clit against him, enjoying aftershocks even after he had gone soft.

They sat together, holding each other tightly, content and warm. Danielle recovered first.

"I've had an idea, Darling," she said, pushing him backward so she could lie on him.

"Mmff," was all he could manage to say.

"We need a new rule."

"You and your rules!" he protested.

"If Friday night is oral sex night, then Saturday night should be anal sex night."

He held her tightly.

"I love you and your rules!"

4 Wedding plans and loads of science

At a quarter-past midnight, Roger was fast asleep, enjoying a well-deserved rest, but Danielle was still energised. She had another shower, then sat in her bathrobe in the living room and placed a call on the communicator to her mother. A minute later, the 3D image of Mariotta Goldrick sat before her, all elegance and comfortable refinement in her beige dress, gloves and pearls, made up for lunch with some girlfriends.




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 12



It was early afternoon in Perth and clearly a warm day.

"Hello, Darling. I wasn't expecting a call until later."

"I've got some good news, Mum. Do you have time? Is Dad there?"

"He's out all day and I've got half-an-hour before lunch - longer, depending on your news. Go ahead, Darling. What do you have to say?"

"Roger proposed."

"Oh, how wonderful!"

"And I accepted him."

"Well, of course you did. Why don't you tell me all about it?"

"First promise me you won't tell Dad. I want to tell him myself."

"Don't worry, Sweetie. I'll tell him to expect call from you. Now give me the story."

Ten minutes later, Mariotta remembered her lunch appointment and interrupted the conversation to call her friends and say not to expect her.

"There's something else," Danielle continued when her mother was back, "it's why I don't want a big wedding. You remember the job on Celetaris I mentioned?"

Her mother nodded, fearing the worst.

"Well, I'm taking it."

"Oh, Darling! But it's so far away."

"Only three days."

"Three whole days!"

"You're five hours away now, and it's just the other side of the planet. Three days isn't so much to go 170 light-years."

"I know, Darling, but there's all the medical tests and the week of quarantine the colonies demand, even before you leave Earth. I can't just nip on a strato-liner and be with you and my grandchildren whenever I feel like it."

"Mum, you never come to England unless Dad brings you. You always say it's too cold."

"Well, it is cold and wet."

"And what do you mean 'grandchildren'?"

"A mother can hope, can't she? ... On that matter, what about Roger? Is he happy to go with you?"

"He's not coming straight away. He's got a project to finish on Earth first, then he'll join me."

"Hmm."

"Out with it, Mum. What does 'Hmm' mean?"

"I mean that long-distant relationships don't often work, Darling."

"We'll be married, Mum. It's different."

Mariotta remained sceptical but kept her own counsel.

Half-an-hour later, they were still arguing. Mariotta treated Danielle and Roger's preference for a small family wedding as an oddity, not to be taken seriously. However, Danielle was a stubborn as her mother and, after all, she was the bride, so Mariotta acquiesced in good grace with the promise of a truly splendid 'real' wedding party a year later.

Her psychic powers none the less sensed there was something Danielle wasn't saying, something troubling her.

"What is it, Darling? I agree to the small family ceremony, so what's the matter?"

"It's Ezra. I always imagined he'd be at my wedding."

"I know, Sweetie, but it will be a nice surprise for him when he gets back. Besides, he might get back in time for the real party."

"Mum, I don't want to worry you but it's odd we haven't heard anything from him yet. It's more than a year since he left Earth. We have to face the possibility that he's run into trouble. Even if he missed his target, he has communications probes to send an emergency signal. We really should have heard something by now, whether he arrived safely or not."

"I'm not worried, Dear." This was true, Mariotta rarely worried. "Ezra's always falling into adventures. He's probably too busy having fun to call us. Remember Liliana whatever her name was?"

"Tatiana Ludmilla Tchernekova."

Danielle remembered the name because it had such a musical sound. It was one of Ezra's early missions, a near-disaster that turned out so well for him that he earned a promotion and a pay-rise. She was aged twelve. It was a summer when she had pig-tails and braces and never took off her dungarees. She remembered sitting on the edge of her seat at dinner while he told the story. She lived his adventure with him, sharing all the dangers. He always spoke fondly of his Russian friend.

"Did you ever see a photo of Tatiana?" Danielle asked.

"No, I don't believe so."

"I met her once. She looks like a matryoshka and she was twice his age when they worked together."

"Really? Lucky Ezra. There are plenty of things I could teach a man half my age. Young men don't know how to go slowly. They're too impatient. And young women are too self-conscious to say anything."

Danielle was once again shocked by how her mother's mind worked. She never imagined that Ezra had a sexual relationship with the woman he considered his mentor. Luckily, she was used to her mother.

"It won't help," Mariotta said, looping back to the main subject, "but now Ezra's been gone a year, I can exercise my power of attorney over his estate and take a look at his communications."

"I can do that anyway, Mum. Ezra sent me his passwords to use in an emergency. I can access his messages and his bank accounts any time I want."

"Well, let's do that. He won't mind. Will you tell me what you find?"

"I can do it now, if you want."

She had the passwords safely stored and, in two minutes, Ezra's mail box was open on her screen. There were only a handful of messages.

"Shall I send them to you, Mum?"

"What are they?"

"Log entries. Mostly technical data from his ship."

"Then just read anything interesting to me."

Danielle read his inbox backward from the most recent messages.

"Ezra must have set his ship to transmit his logs and messages back home after each hyperspace jump, though we will get a message only when he's near a comms beacon, which are rare on his route and non-existent as far out as he went. The last log entry is from after his third hyperspace jump, when he was about eight-hundred light-years from Earth."

Danielle analysed the read-outs from the on-board instruments.

"Everything seems all right. The starboard rocket thruster has been running a little hot and the oxygen recycler is working harder than normal."

"Are they problems?"

"No. The thrusters are only for manoeuvring in space and the low oxygen levels could be caused by anything. Ezra might be cooking with an open flame or increasing his exercises. At those levels, it's nothing to worry about."

"All right, what else?"

"The next entry is a bank statement: a notification that the deposit he left with the Capella Port Authority has been refunded. It was returned to him on the day he left."

"The next entry before that is a message from someone called Yumi Takahashi. It was also on the day he left Capella."

"I don't know any of his friends called Yumi. Do you know him?"

"No and she's a woman. It's a private message, but innocent enough."

Danielle was being coy on her brother's behalf. She didn't mention that Ezra and Yumi seemed to have had romantic attachment: he clearly spent his last night on Capella with her. Also, Yumi signed off her message with the word 'love' and left a home contact address.

"All right, nothing to learn there," Mariotta judged. "What's next?"

"Just records of Ezra's transactions on Capella. He put one-hundred Galactic pounds on a credit stick. That's all there is. There are more ship logs and diagnostics for the month he spent space-testing the ship and, before that, correspondence on Earth."

"So all we know is that Ezra left Capella safely and was still all right nearly a week later."

"I'm afraid so, Mum. It's disappointing but also sort of a relief. He may have reached Samothea safely. I once set one of my classes the task of plotting the trajectory of a trip to Samothea, just to prove it could be done safely, and it looks like it can."

"Well, I'm not going to worry about him, Darling. He's been on more dangerous missions and always turned up again."

Agreeing that her mother was probably right, Danielle confessed she was tired now. Promising to call her parents later that day, she at last went yawning to bed.

* * *

Next morning, as soon as she woke, she a message to the Celetaris Institute of Science, accepting the job offer and the offer to arrange travel and accommodation for her arrival in September. She also sent her company a month's notice of her resignation.

Then Danielle looked for the mailbox addresses of her two star pupils from the previous year's advanced astrophysics course. She knew Rosa Silverstein and Li Qu Yuan were doing master's degrees but she hadn't seen either of them all year.

Rosa's mail address was in Danielle's contacts list. She remembered why as soon as she opened the contact. It linked immediately to the work she'd done ten or so months ago on Rosa's clever but ultimately unsuccessful method of sending a traveller to Samothea in one hyperspace jump.

For fifteen minutes she was absorbed in that problem again, until Roger came into the living room, showered and refreshed.

"Morning, fiancé. I love you. You were amazing last night. How are you feeling?"

"Wonderfully well, future husband. I love you, too. You were pretty good yourself. Mum congratulates us."

"Thanks. I should call my folks today. What's the time?"

"Eight-thirty."

"What're you doing?"

She was sitting at the coffee table with a computer tablet beside her. Rosa's data cube was on a reading pad on the table and above it hovered a holographic projection, filled with equations in black writing with notes and comments in red and blue.

"I came across an old problem while I was looking for an address - which you've just reminded me about. I should call her."

"Whom?"

"Rosa, an old pupil. I want to invite her to do her PhD at Celetaris with me. ... Computer, place a call to Rosa Silverstein."

The computer began to make the connection.

"Isn't it a bit rude calling her this early?"

"Eight-thirty is too early?"

"It's a Sunday, Darling, and she's a student. Mid-day would be too early."

It was too late. The computer completed the connection and a bedraggled-looking Rosa appeared in her pyjamas, with bird's-nest hair, gazing sleepily out of the screen.

"Hello, who's this?"

"Hello, Rosa, it's Danielle Goldrick."

"Doctor Goldrick? Is it an emergency?"

"No, just a beautiful spring morning."

"Huh?"

"Rosa, I'm sorry to wake you but I have a proposition for you. Are you free today?"

"Free? I suppose so."

"Oh, good. It's important. Can we meet up? Would you like to come over here?"

"All right. ... Wait, no, I've got a session with my study partner."

"Bring her along."

"It's a him."

"All right, bring him along. See you at ten?"

"I suppose so. If it's important. ... er, can we make it eleven?"

"Of course. Meanwhile, do you know Li's mail address?"

"Li? No."

"He's still at Trinity, isn't he?"

"No, I think he's in Hong Kong."

"All right. Don't worry. See you later."

Danielle got up to look for Li Qu Yuan's data cube but it wasn't with the other cubes. She double-checked the places she kept university materials and then stood, puzzled.

Roger reappeared, dressed and ready for breakfast.

"Can you help me find a missing data cube from one of my students?" she asked him.

"Of course. Where have you looked?"

"The drawer, a file and this wallet I put all the data cubes in."

"Hmm. Did you use a bag to carry things to and from the college?"

"A small briefcase. It's not in there."

"What if you were going on somewhere after the class. Would you take a bigger bag?"

"You're right. We should look in all my bags."

Danielle had a cupboard full of bags, of different sizes, shapes and colours. Being a man, Roger had no idea why a woman needed more than one bag. Sure, he understood that different bags go with different outfits; but that just raised the question why a woman needed so many different outfits.

They found Li's data cube in a brown leather holdall at the bottom of the cupboard, with a year's fashion accessories, used only once or twice, piled randomly on top.

Danielle put the data cube on the reader. It produced a holographic list. The top item was Li's version of the last task she set the class, with a note to her apologising for leaving it incomplete. She'd forgotten the details of his project but she remembered that having sex in the broom-cupboard distracted her; after which, she forget to check Li's work. She did so now, projecting a holographic image next to Rosa's.

"Well, that's interesting," she said to herself. "Rosa's and Li's methods are the inverse of each other. But Rosa's works, more or less, and Li's is way off. Why is that?"

"It's a rhetorical question, I presume?" Roger asked.

"Hmm, what?"

"I can't really tell you why Rosa's method works and Li's doesn't. But my academic training says you should run them side-by-side to see where they begin to diverge."

She stared at him a second and then smiled.

"Darling, what are we doing today?"

"Nothing until later," he said. "We're going to dinner. I've booked a restaurant."

"Oh, good. What time?"

"Seven-thirty."

"All right, so I'm not spoiling any plans if I look into this?"

"Well, my original plan was to stay in bed all day and have sex, but that's off the menu anyway; so, no, you're not spoiling any plans."

"Good. Also, Rosa's coming over at eleven. She's bringing someone."

"Very well. ... By the way, phone your father," he reminded her.

"Oh yes, I was forgetting. Thanks."

A long video call followed. Though her father gave his congratulations to them both in ten minutes, Mariotta was there and had lots to say about the music, the catering and the dress.

Eventually, Danielle mollified her mother and could sit down and go over the problem of why Rosa's virtual traveller reached Samothea but Li's didn't. She prepped the computer and opened the holographic models again.

"We've missed breakfast, Darling," Roger said. "Do you want anything?"

"Uh, uh," she replied, which he took to mean "No," because she didn't say anything more but stared at her holo-screen, her head already in hyperspace, puzzling over the problem.

She rolled up her sleeves, tied her hair out of the way and traced the virtual spaceships in their hyperspace jump from Capella Spaceport to Samothea. Rosa's program had a margin of error of half a light-year: Li's had a margin of error of fifteen light-years.

"Odd," she said.

Roger was on the couch with a tablet, writing the outline of his amended proposal to send with his acceptance letter to the video company. He took his glasses off to admire his beautiful fiancé. She had a high forehead, currently knitted with a frown, big, wide-set deep-blue eyes, a wide mouth with light-pink lips and a small but determined chin. Her crown of wavy platinum-blond hair shone in the morning light.

He saw her frown suddenly lift and her face light up.

"Aha!" she said. "It's not the programs that are different: it's the data!"

She ran them on the same star-projector program and got similar results: both missed their destination by plus or minus fifteen light-years.

"I've found it, Roger. The anomaly is near Samothea. Look!"

She projected the stars near Samothea onto the holo-screen, toggling between the data-set used by Rosa and that which Li used.

"There's a star missing," he observed helpfully.

"The missing star is on Rosa's old data-set, the one I used to set the question for the class. And this," she toggled the image and pointed to the stars around Samothea with the conspicuous gap, "this is the recent data-set that Li used. No wonder his spaceship never made it."

Then she remembered. The sunny smile vanished from her face.

"Damn!" she exclaimed. "Damn, damn, damn!"

Her body went cold and her heart sank into her feet.

"Ezra," she whispered.

"What about him?"

"That's where Ezra jumped, straight into that anomaly. God, what a disaster!"

"Do you know what happened?"

"No, not yet. Let's see how much data there is. ... Computer," she commanded, "show previous star maps and add updates sequentially."

The star reappeared in the gap nearby Samothea's sun and stayed constant as the map flipped through the years. There were only five updates until the star flickered.

"Stop!" she said. "Show details."

It was the most recent update, arrived just under a year ago. It showed the system one-hundred years in the past.

"Play sequence."

The star - it's catalogue name glowing in red; its local name, 'Sothis', added in brackets - flickered again, then went very bright and began to expand.

"What is it, Darling?"

"I don't know. It's not a true nova but it's definitely a big enough anomaly to explain what happened to Samothea. ... Poor Ezra!"

The star continued to grow. A sphere of gas, illuminated by lightning, arcing and flashing in the cloud, followed the expanding wave-front.

"Why 'poor Ezra'? Is he caught up in this thing?" Roger asked.

"No. It was one-hundred years ago but it's left a source of charged particles, That's the anomaly which caused Li's virtual spaceship to miss its mark. It would have done the same to Ezra's. Depending on how close to Samothea he expected his last jump to emerge, he could be anywhere."

"So he over-shot or under-shot. He's probably alive."

"He could be alive - unlike any poor soul who tried to reach Samothea one-hundred years ago, when this star was going off."

She sat down and felt miserable. Roger sat beside her. He put an arm around her.

"A year ago," he said, "I'd never even heard of the planet Samothea. Since then, I've done my homework - and I wish I didn't know so much."

"Go on, Roger, tell me."

"Nearly one-hundred years ago, a ship with three-thousand settlers went to Samothea. It was never heard from again."

"Oh, God!"

He held her tightly. She put her head on his shoulder.

"Ezra will be safe, I'm sure," he said.

She was silent a minute in his arms then she loaded looked up, eyes damp, but with resolution in her voice.

"Yes, but the best thing we can do is get one of the big science institutions interested enough in the anomaly to send out a probe. If we could do that, maybe it'll pick up signals from Ezra's ship as well. When I get to Celetaris, I'll make it my mission to arrange this, to explore as close to Samothea as we can."

5 Rosa and Herman

Rosa arrived at eleven-fifteen with a young man in tow.

"This is Herman," she said.

He was a thin boy, aged twenty-one, the same as Rosa. He had a prominent Adam's apple, aquiline nose and violent spots; but he was clean and polite. Rosa herself had made an effort to get her wavy brown hair under control and even applied eye-liner and mascara, indicating to Danielle her feelings toward the gangly youth she called her study partner.

They were introduced to Roger, who got to know them while Danielle went off to make coffee (but fruit-juice for Herman, who avoided caffeine).

"Come and sit down," he said.

They all got comfortable on the couch.

"So, do you both study astrophysics?" Roger asked.

"No, I'm a pure mathematician," Herman replied, "I study number theory."

"Number theory? So how come you two are study partners?"

"Our professors suggested we could both learn from taking an extra course," Rosa explained. "A more theoretical one for me and a more practical one for Herman. We both chose programmable maths, which is where we met."

"I know what programmable math is," Roger said brightly. "It's when you let the computer do your thinking for you."

Rosa laughed and Danielle's sigh was audible from across the open-plan flat but Herman's mouth was a perfect O.

"I apologise for Roger," Danielle said. "He's a Philistine."

"But he's nearly right," Herman exclaimed. "The question of how much thinking our computers do for us is a real problem in philosophy and psychology, not just in maths."

"It is?" Roger asked.

"Of course. I don't mean science-fiction rubbish about robots taking over the world; but I mean the question of how much we can trust a computer."

"Go on," Roger pressed him.

"Well, you admit that computers are cleverer than us?"

"I sure do. They're better at math, for example. They can calculate faster and more accurately than a man and they are probably more logical."




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 12



"Precisely," Herman nodded vigorously. "They're less prone to some human fallacies, though it's possible that computers have illogical processes of their own that we don't know about. Hence the problem: How can we tell when a computer is right if we can't do the calculations ourselves?"

"I suppose we can ask another computer."

"That's one way; but two computers might agree and still be wrong, like false witnesses who corroborate each other's stories."

"All right then," Roger suggested, "we can test the calculation against the evidence."

"That's a second way, empirical testing. It works in science, where there are physical facts to check, but it doesn't work in pure mathematics or symbolic logic; and what about the physics of places we can't get to, such as the middle of black holes or quasars?"

"Then we can check the programs. If the program is sound, then the result must be reliable."

"Very good," Herman said, sounding like a teacher pleased by a star pupil, making Danielle smile as she brought the drinks over.

"But what if the program is so large or so complex that no one can analyse it?" the earnest young mathematician continued. "Most computer programs are now written by computers, which were themselves designed by computers and built by robots."

"Can we write a program to analyse the program?" Roger ventured.

"Yes, that's a good answer, it's the iterative method; but a program to analyse a program can still be too complex for human abilities. We call a program an 'algorithm' and each iteration we call a 'generation'. Rosa and I are studying algorithms of the fifth generation."

Roger surreptitiously counted the sequence off on his fingers as Herman elaborated:

"We write programs to analyse programs, to analyse programs, to analyse programs, to analyse programs that do the calculations."

"It's where I got the idea from for my iterative method of steering the traveller through hyperspace," Rosa said.

"It's a brilliant idea, Rosa," Danielle added; "and now that Roger has been put in his place, let's get to work on it."

Herman was mortified.

"I'm sorry, Roger. I didn't mean to lecture you. I got carried away. I'm new to programmable maths at this level and I'm only just realising what we can do with it."

"No apology necessary," Roger assured him. "I love to see people who are passionate about ideas."

None the less, her thought the earnest young man could benefit from a sense-of-humour algorithm.

* * *

Roger had work to do, so he took his coffee to the other side of the flat, where he sat at a table with a reading screen, a few hefty old-fashioned books and a tablet for his notes. He finished the brief outline for the sequel to his video film and sent it off. He then began to think about his latest research and was soon happily distracted by historical details, listening in on the Putney Debates or watching Cato's Letters seed and germinate in the American colonies.

Danielle, meanwhile, launched into an analysis of Rosa's method. She showed her attempt to solve its problems and then introduced Li's method. Distracted by physics, she clear forgot why she'd invited Rosa over; and the two women almost forgot Herman was there.

More than competent to follow the maths, Herman was unfamiliar with the physics and so had nothing to contribute at first, while Danielle showed Rosa the holographic images of the Samothean solar system. When they wrote equations on the large projection screen, however, he came alert and followed pretty well.

Things stopped for fifteen minutes when Roger got up to call his parents. He did so from Danielle's bedroom, inviting her to join him. They shared effusive congratulations but were soon back to their respective studies.

An hour later, Rosa said:

"I think we've reached an impasse. I can't see past the time-lag problem."

"Nor me," Danielle admitted.

"Herman, what do you think?" Rosa asked.

"I can follow the maths but not the underlying physics. Can you explain some things to me?"

"Of course. How rude of me to exclude you!", Danielle exclaimed. "We'll give you the short version of hyperspace engineering. I've done this for Roger many times, poor lamb. In fact, he makes a good sounding-board."

"The general principles are not too difficult, but if you find you don't understand, say so, and I'll explain. If it's something you need postgraduate physics to understand, then I'll say 'relativity theory' or 'quantum theory' and you'll just have to accept it. ... Shall we start?"

He nodded. Roger also put down his book and paid attention. There was a point in even the schoolboy version of hyperspace physics beyond which he could never progress but always hoped to.

"The standard way of explaining hyperspace is to picture a balloon," Danielle said and commanded the computer to project a holographic image of a child's rubber balloon over the coffee table. With a finger in the air, she drew an X on one side of the balloon and a Y on the other.

"Now, the three-dimensional space of our universe is represented by the two-dimensional surface of a balloon."

"I see," Herman said.

"That's the first place I get lost," Roger said from across the room.

"I know, Darling," Danielle said. "It's because you try to imagine it but you should just follow the logic."

"I wish I could," he sighed.

"Just suppose that space has two dimensions, like a surface, not three dimensions, like a solid, so there's left and right and forward and backward but no up and down."

That made it no clearer for her fiancé, but Danielle went on.

"So, what's the quickest way to get from X to Y?"

"Well," Herman said, "assuming I can travel only through space, then it has to be this way ..."

He drew a line with his finger on the surface of the balloon from X to Y. Danielle smiled happily at his understanding.

"Quite right. But the actual quickest route is this one." She put her thumb on the X and a finger on the Y and squeezed the sides of the balloon together.

"A hyperspace path is a like pinching the balloon so that distant parts of the surface meet. Of course, what we actually do is make a bubble of hyperspace around a spaceship."

"The technical name for the hyperspace bubble is a 'plume' and the technical name for anything the plume transports is a 'traveller'. The way it works is that you point the traveller in the direction you want to go and you make a plume of a given quantity of energy. The more energy you give it, the further it goes. However, the trajectory of the plume is extremely sensitive to what we call 'anomalies', which are any sources of energy in the pathway of the plume, except for gravitational energy."

"Why is gravitational energy not an anomaly?" Herman wondered.

"Because gravitational energy is equivalent to the curvature of space-time, which doesn't affect hyperspace," Danielle answered. "Also, 'relativity theory'."

"Go on. I'm following so far."

"Well, relativity theory says time and space are joined in a continuum, so movement in one is also movement in the other; but, in hyperspace, one can travel 'through' space without also travelling 'in' space ..."

He looked blank and Roger was lost again.

"... which also means that one can travel through space but without travelling in time. Travel in hyperspace is nearly instantaneous."

"All right, I get that ... sort of," he conceded. "So what kinds of anomalies are there?"

"Pulsars, neutron stars, strong radio sources, x-ray sources, gamma-ray sources; black holes, clouds of charged or magnetic particles, exotic matter - anything, in fact, that feels the electromagnetic, nuclear weak and nuclear strong forces."

"The disrupting effect of anomalies," Danielle continued, "means we can take only short jumps; after which we stop to make measurements. We find out where we are precisely, recalculate and jump again."

"It's very expensive on fuel because the real drain on energy is getting into hyperspace. 'Bouncing out' of hyperspace is energy-neutral. To go 100 light-years in two jumps actually takes a lot more energy than to go 200 light-years in one jump."

"So Rosa's method of 'jumping' all the way to Samothea in one go would save a fortune in energy costs."

"Yes."

"But didn't you say the quantity of energy given to the plume determines how far you jump?" Herman asked.

"Quite right, but 99% of the energy is used to get into hyperspace, regardless how far you jump."

"Would Rosa's method also be quicker?"

"Yes, because there's no need to stop and recalculate on the way. The only problem is, it won't work. Her technique involves taking measurements and recalculating as soon as the plume meets anomalies; but the calculations quickly go haywire if the mass of the traveller is not negligible."

"Why?"

"Because the anomaly changes the energy of the plume and we need to correct for that if we're not to bounce out of hyperspace a long way from the intended exit-point. The more mass, the longer and more difficult the calculation to find the right proportion. For a traveller of a hundred tonnes' mass in a leap of more than a few hundred light-years, the calculations become intractable and impossible in real-time."

"All right," Herman said, "So how come there's a time-lag in travelling through hyperspace? How come you don't travel instantaneously?"

Danielle beamed happily.

"Very good question. 'Special relativity' and 'quantum theory'."

"Oh." He sounded disappointed.

"I'll try to explain," Rosa said, having listened meekly all this time.

"In special relativity, no information-bearing signal can travel faster than light."

"Yes, but the plume isn't travelling in space."

"The plume is an interface between space and hyperspace, so part of it is in normal space-time and, as such, obeys quantum theory and special relativity. Quantum theory says there's a minimum time for a signal to pass through the plume. Special relativity says that a signal that travels within the plume cannot contain information because the plume itself is travelling faster than light (or it would be if it were travelling through normal space-time)."

"I'm lost again," Roger confessed to himself and returned to his history books. Danielle carried on:

"We've established that the plume's trajectory and energy cannot be precisely measured in real-time if the traveller is of any practical size; hence we come to Li's method."

"Li proposed a static hyperspace drive which sends out multiple plumes. If the traveller veers off-course, the next plume steers it back on-track. As you can see, it's the inverse of Rosa's method."

"How does Li's hyperspace drive know that the traveller has veered off track?"

"Because it's in constant contact with the plume."

"Isn't the plume many light-years away in seconds?"

"Not in hyperspace. In hyperspace, the plume is connected to the hyperspace drive until it collapses and the traveller bounces back into normal space."

This was puzzling and Herman stopped to think it over. Then:

"So why didn't Li's method work? If it can correct for anomalies, why was his traveller off-target?"

"For the same reason Rosa's method failed. They both work perfectly for a traveller with zero mass; and less well the more mass the traveller has. For a traveller with a few thousand tonnes, the calculations for Li's method are intractable and cannot keep up with the anomalies."

"So neither method will work?"

"Not as originally proposed; though Li's method may be easier to fix. We just need a lot more power. Then Li's method would be similar to something we already do. The permanent hyperspace pathways that take travellers from Earth to Capella Spaceport and onward to the inhabited galaxy are driven by large hyperspace drives with huge sources of power."

"That's why Capella is so well-placed. It's 'star' is actually four stars. They are tapped for fuel by giant collecting-stations, which beam the energy to a dozen or more hyperspace drives that power pathways in all directions. The other ends of the pathways also have hyperspace engines, making what we call 'tethered' pathways. The drives at each end are called 'beacons'. A pathway with powerful-enough beacons can ignore almost all anomalies. It's like a really powerful radio signal: it doesn't matter how much interference there is; so long as the signal is strong enough, it will get through."

Herman nodded his understanding.

"This is where we came in, isn't it?" he observed. "You showed that Rosa's method alone wouldn't work and then you tried to combine her method with Li's."

"Exactly. I wanted to use Rosa's method to make the corrections in trajectory and Li's method to make corrections in energy. It would simplify the calculation for her traveller and reduce the power Li needs; but it doesn't work, either. We're always stumped by the impossibility of getting Rosa's traveller to communicate with Li's beacon."

"Because of special relativity?"

"Correct. The traveller is effectively going faster-than-light relative to the beacon; so, while the traveller can talk to the plume and the plume can talk to the beacon, the traveller cannot talk to the beacon through the plume. The information always gets scrambled."

"All right. I think I'm clear now." Herman prepared himself for renewed mental effort; but Danielle said:

"Before we start, I have a question for Roger."

"Yes, Dear?"

"Why am I hungry?"

"Because it's two o'clock in the afternoon and we haven't even had breakfast."

"How did it get to be 2pm? Rosa and Herman only got here ten minutes ago."

"Three hours ago."

"Good Lord! Sorry, everyone. You must be starving. I'll make us some lunch. Is scrambled eggs all right?"

"Darling," Roger halted her. "Do you want Rosa and Herman to remain friends with us?"

"Of course I do!"

"Then do you really think you should cook?"

"Oh, God! You're right."

Danielle was not a bad cook generally, but when her mind was distracted, she was a disaster.

"Rosa," she asked, "can you cook?"

"I'll cook," Roger said.

He retired to the kitchen to make scrambled eggs, toast, coffee and fruit-juice. He used almost every pan Danielle possessed, even though she had a robotic oven that would have done most of the work.

After the late lunch, Roger went back to his historical studies, leaving the others to ponder the problem of combining Rosa's method with Li's. He kept an ear open for signs of progress but there was still none by four o'clock, when Roger got up to perform more hostly duties by making tea. He forced them to stop work for five minutes to drink it; then he left them alone for another marathon session.

At six o'clock, he called the restaurant to cancel the table and ask them to deliver the food instead. He ordered boeuf bourguignon for four and a bottle of wine, paying with Danielle's credit stick, telling her that she had lots of money and it was better to spend it on good food than on clothes she would wear only once or (God forbid!) even more handbags.

She murmured something, which he took as an assent. The three of them worked in silence, at a holo-screen or tablet, or just staring into space, thinking.

Dinner arrived at 8pm and was a welcome surprise. Although they began the meal eating mechanically, minds winding down from intense activity, they followed Roger's advice to enjoy the food and rest their brains a little. Danielle and Rosa joined Roger in a glass of wine: Herman stuck to water. Eventually they relaxed and their glazed expressions softened.

It was now that the large lump of information Roger had swallowed while Herman was having his lesson began to digest in his mind. Enquiries percolated up. He let the others sit in silence all through dinner; but when they finished their coffees and got up to resume working, he asked his question:

"Darling, can you explain something about what was said earlier?"

"I'll try."

"Rosa was quite specific in her language when she said 'No information-bearing signal can travel faster than light'. Does that imply that signals that don't bear information can travel faster than light?"

"Faster than light in a vacuum, yes."

"Oh. But isn't light the fastest thing there is?"

"Yes, ignoring hypothetical particles with imaginary mass."

"I don't get it."

"You're probably confused by a popular version of special relativity, which says 'Nothing can go faster than the speed of light in a vacuum'. In fact, microwaves in a wave-guide go faster than light (though they're made of light themselves). In general, photons subject to the tunnel effect go faster than the speed of light in a vacuum."

Roger was mystified.

"So if light can travel faster than light, why can't you send information faster than light?"

"Because the way the tunnel effect works is that photons get through only randomly, so the information a signal carries in a collection of photons is scrambled."

"Oh, all right." Roger was glad he asked but wasn't sure he followed the answer.

He left them sitting comfortably, neglecting the holo-screens, going over their calculations and racking their brains for a new idea. Roger also pondered what they'd told him, trying to make sense of it as well he could. He began looking things up on the computer, such as the difference between problems men can solve, problems only computers can solve and problems neither men nor computers can solve.

An hour later he thought he'd understood something and asked Danielle how they were getting on.

"We've made some progress but we're still stuck on the main problem," Danielle admitted. "With a powerful enough beacon, we can send a moderately massive traveller but we cannot properly control the direction. The impossibility of communicating the effect of the anomalies beats us every time."

"I've been thinking. What about triangulation?" Roger asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Remember the three ways of checking a computer's calculation that I discussed with Herman? There were empirical tests, the iterative method and the third method, comparing information from different sources. I looked it up. I think it's the same as something called 'triangulation'."

"Well, Li's method is like empirical tests because the beacon gets information from the plume and sends out corrections, like doing experiments and testing them. Rosa's method is the iterative one, it makes corrections to corrections to corrections. So the third one is triangulation, getting to the same answer by using different sources."

"Oh, Roger! It's pure coincidence that you mentioned only three mathematical methods. You might also have mentioned approximate methods, like finding cube roots ..."

Roger appeared deflated.

"Sorry, Darling," she said in mollifying tones, "There's no connection between the methods. One is mathematical ..."

She paused and then carried on, just from inertia.

"the other is physical ..." she stopped again. She stared blindly at him, her mind racing.

"Good God! ... He's right! ... Triangulation! Plume, traveller and beacon. ... Do you see it? Good God! My fiancé's a genius!"

"I don't see it," Herman said. Rosa was standing up. Eyes shut. Thinking hard.

She spoke quickly, squeezing her fists. "We know the energy from Li's method and the traveller knows the direction by my iterative method; so we just need to get them to communicate - which is impossible. But we don't need to get them to communicate information. We just need to keep them synchronised through the plume. So long as they're synchronised, we can adjust the plume according to what it experiences in hyperspace. The plume knows where it is. We just need to triangulate the three sources of information."

Danielle beamed at her, summing up:

"The plume is like an automatic pilot that knows how to fly straight in a particular direction and height and therefore corrects any deviation out of its path but it doesn't know what it's actual destination is."




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 13



Author's note:

At the end of chapter 11, Ezra and the Salvage Party were on their way to the Mariner Settlement, with the plan to salvage his ship at last, while most of the other women were going to the Cloner Fair.

Events on Samothea now continue.

*****

1 Ezra and his party stay with the Mariners

A happy bunch of Woodlanders and Mariners embarked on the two-hour trudge across the sweltering plain from the forest to the settlement by the sea, gossiping and joking. Tamar, especially, didn't stop speaking unless she was directly addressed, but she skipped along regaling her friends from the Mariner tribe with the adventure of the trip to the mountains and everything Wildchild, Carlin and she had done there.

The other Woodlander members of the salvage party were Dagma and Ezra, though Ezra was technically a Mariner this month, according to the treaty of the three tribes (which was a formality only Mirselene much bothered with).

They carried the salvage equipment between them on their shoulders. Knowing Dagma was pregnant and had already carried her burden four hours from the Forest Camp, Kalyndra offered to take her place but Dagma refused. She was a strong woman and quite able to manage, even though her shoulders and back ached and her legs were beginning to feel numb.

Dagma told herself it was only pride that made her refuse. The fight with Kalyndra many months ago, in which Urulla was badly injured, had long since been forgiven on both sides and she was sure there was no lingering resentment. The two women had worked well together in the Woodlander Camp, where Kalyndra had served as a meek and obedient hostage.

It could be jealousy, of course, Dagma admitted to herself. She was plump and plain, while Kalyndra was a Mediterranean sex-goddess. Tall and curvy, her olive skin was deeply tanned by working naked in the sun and her jet-black hair fell in thick shiny waves to her waist. She had high cheek-bones, an elegant jaw, a wide mouth and sculpted nostrils.

From her elegant neck to her jutting-out breasts, now confined by a short jacket; from her flat stomach with a long slit of a belly button, to her long long legs with powerful thighs, Kalyndra exuded pneumatic sexual perfection. She gave Dagma more than a twinge of envy; yet it was Dagma who was pregnant, carrying Ezra's child, not Kalyndra.

She was nudged out of her self-justifying reverie by a shift in weight on the bamboo poles. Dagma's psychic ability told her exactly what Ezra was thinking, that she was foolish to refuse help. It wasn't a real psychic ability, of course, just the sense of body-language that women seem to have more strongly than men. Ezra must have shrugged or stepped a little faster in unconscious disapproval. She took the hint.

"Kalyndra," she called out. "I've changed my mind. Please will you take over from me?"

The tall girl happily did so and Dagma carried Kalyndra's shoulder basket instead. She walked beside Ezra and, in an unexpectedly girlish act, held his hand. He smiled at her and put both their hands briefly on her belly. Then they walked hand in hand, until Dagma decided she didn't want the other women looking at her and dropped his hand.

Tamar skipped up, still full of bright chatter, which gradually ran down. In the pause, Ezra asked her to describe her early life among the Herders. He'd heard most of the story before but he loved the girl and liked to hear her talk almost as much as she liked talking. So, entertained by Tamar's descant rendering of her exciting autobiography, the party trudged through the searing windless heat to the shelter of the Mariner Settlement and its relieving ocean-breeze.

At the settlement, the trade goods were stored and the guests assigned to huts. To save squabbles, Calliope, the Mariner chief, put Ezra in with Kalyndra and Devon. If one counted on from the end of his previous visit to the Mariners, then it would be their turn to be his bedmates. The other Woodlanders were given their own hut to share.

After they'd settled in, the tribe gathered in front of Calliope's boat for more introductions. The Mariner children were keen to meet the Woodlander girls. It also had to be decided who among the Mariners would go with the salvage party.

"How many divers do you need, Ezra, and whom do you prefer?" Calliope enquired.

"Kalyndra and Devon have already volunteered to be divers, so I'd like two more who can also dive well."

Here was a dilemma. All the Mariners yearned for the excitement of the Cloner Fair, compared to which the salvage operation just seemed like hard work. It was also a yearly treat for their children. Some women not already pregnant (or who just liked sex with a man) might have the compensation of sleeping with Ezra; but this was clearly not compensation enough. No one volunteered; so Calliope made a choice for them:

"Thalassa," she addressed her daughter, "I'd like you to go with the salvage party: your medical skills might be useful."

The sweet-natured girl agreed without protest, which pricked the conscience of Cressi, the fun-loving blonde.

"I'll go as well," she volunteered.

Now that the salvage party had a full complement, they went to look at the raft the Mariners had prepared. Pulled up on a bank of the muddy estuary from where it could be easily launched, it was a strong fishing raft about twelve feet along each edge, its seasoned timbers tied together with vines.

There were sturdy canoe-like out-riggers. A dozen or so empty baskets were on-board and two full of vegetables and dried fish. Water bladders and empty leather bags were held safely on the raft under rope-netting. Paddles of odd shapes and sizes were tied on with long ropes.

Ezra and Kalyndra went to fetch the apparatus he made to supply air underwater. They stowed it under the rope netting, though the ends of the longer bamboo poles stuck out.

Ezra judged it a very fine raft, exactly what he hoped for, and suggested the party gather together at Calliope's table to learn their jobs. There were four main tasks: to pump air down to the divers outside the ship; to ferry the air in bags to the divers in the ship; to carry out the salvage goods; and to haul them up in baskets to the raft.

The discussion continued until dinner time and was resolved harmoniously, with the agreement that those on the rafts who couldn't swim would be under the care of nearby swimmers and that those diving into the ship would not risk staying down too long.

Dinner was high-spirited: the Mariner women were always thrilled to have visitors. Kalyndra and Devon were subjected to some fond ribbing about being Ezra's bedmates and for missing out on the Cloner Fair. They answered back in a lively manner but Ezra smiled to himself.

As usual, ten-year-old Juniel requested his laser pen-knife. She made pretty colours and shapes to dazzle and excite the smaller children. Odette, the fourteen-year-old sculptress, brought out her latest works for general admiration. Wildchild and Thalassa, seventeen and eighteen respectively, got to know each other: the patient and gentle Mariner girl with the calm beautiful face and chestnut hair quickly picked up Wildchild's method of communicating with signs and grunts.

The evening ended well with everyone retiring early to their huts to prepare for their journeys the next day, either to the Cloner Fair or in search of the crash-landing site.

Because Kalyndra and Devon had already stowed their kit on the raft, they could relax that night. In the hut, they were as playful as they'd been at dinner, threatening to leave Ezra to sleep in the chair while they comported themselves on the bed. It gave him malicious pleasure to say:

"Ladies, I've not forgotten I still owe you a punishment from two months ago."

That stopped them in their tracks. Kalyndra had been looking forward to this moment. It really was true what she'd once said to Devon, that the waiting was the worst part. She smiled her hungry smile and savoured the nervous tingling along her spine and the butterflies in her stomach that always came before sex-sessions with Ezra.

Devon also responded with tingling expectation and butterflies, but without any lustful eagerness. She felt apprehension and a little fear. What excited Kalyndra was not knowing what Ezra would do: the same thing only worried Devon.

"Kali, fetch your bag," Ezra ordered.

Kalyndra immediately pulled out the cloth bag in which she carried the gear they'd collected for their games. She meekly handed it over to him and he tipped out the contents onto the bed. Then Ezra brought out a bag he'd carried from the Woodlander camp. He also tipped it out onto the bed, making sure the girls had a good look at its contents.

In addition to the ropes, leather gags and the flask of nut-oil from Kalyndra's bag, there were wooden pegs and two wooden paddles, a long thick one and a short thin one. Kalyndra's level of expectation rose excitedly; as did Devon's level of worry.

"Stand over here," he said, "next to each other. Keep your hands by your sides."

They obeyed and he kissed them. Kalyndra first, who responded with an exploring tongue, leaning her body against his but careful not to move her hands, though she wanted to. Devon was naturally demure but came alive when she kissed. Now, however, she was too nervous to kiss him back hard. He pulled her to him and pressed his mouth to hers. They sucked each others lips in a gentle way that didn't last long. When he pulled back, he asked:

"Are you ready for your punishments?"

"Yes," said Kalyndra, her chin proudly up.

"No," said Devon, looking down and timid.

"Kali, I want to talk to Devon in private for a minute."

"Of course, Ezra." She quickly left the hut.

"Devon," he said, "you understand that what Kalyndra and I do is a game? You didn't really do anything wrong that day on the beach two months ago and I have absolutely no right to punish you. I was just making an excuse to have my fun with you both. You don't have to go through with it if you don't want to; and if you do, any time you want to stop, just say so or shake your head, and I'll stop. Neither Kali nor I will enjoy even a minute of this if you don't also enjoy it. Do you understand?"

"I do, and I'll go through with it. I'm scared but I also want to know what it is that Kalyndra loves about punishment and obeying you."

"Good for you. ... Kalyndra," he called out, "come back in."

"Ezra, why did you send her out?" Devon asked.

"Because I didn't want to spoil the effect," he whispered, as the cloth flap opened. "Kalyndra takes these games seriously and I have to stay in character: I have to pretend to be angry with you."

"I understand," she whispered back.

"Let's begin," Ezra said as Kalyndra approached. "I want you both to strip."

The girls did so, quickly and in unison.

"Kalyndra, tie Devon's arms crossed behind her back."

"Not too tightly," he warned, handing her a rope. "Don't constrict her blood-flow."

Kalyndra did a good job. Devon's apprehension was restored when she was securely tied.

"Now tie her ankles."

This done, Ezra did the same to Kalyndra, forcing her arms tightly across her back and locking her ankles together. She grunted under the strain but made no complaint. Then he kissed the girls again, more passionately this time.

He put a leather gag into Kalyndra's mouth, which she took without protest; yet even she had a look of fear on her face when he collected the wooden pegs from the bed.

"Devon," he barked the order, "suck Kalyndra's tits!"

She carefully bent over and latched her mouth onto one of Kalyndra's generous nipples, sucking gently.

"Harder!" Ezra ordered, slapping Devon's bottom. Devon obeyed, making Kalyndra breath roughly. "Come on, Devon," Ezra repeated, smacking her bottom again, "much harder!" Devon sucked with all her strength and Kalyndra gasped, but her head went back and she pushed out her chest.

"Good girls," Ezra said, as he walked around the women, admiring Kalyndra's beautiful curves and Devon's small up-pointing breasts, elegant white neck, stomach with the hint of strong muscle, a little bulge forming in her belly. That was new. She had firm buttocks and shapely legs meeting in a rich bush of dark brown hair.

He fondled Kalyndra's bottom and lent over to take her other tit into his mouth, licking her wantonly erect nipples. He cupped the mound of her pussy, running his middle finger through its folds, pleased by her wetness. Letting go of her tit, he took a wooden peg, pulled her nipple out firmly and attached the peg to it. Kalyndra winced and bit on the gag to fight the pain.

"Devon, you can stop sucking."

He then pegged Kalyndra's other nipple. That was Kalyndra prepared.

He left her standing in the middle of the hut, breathing heavily and trying to control the pain; but he could see the moisture glistening on her hairy snatch and smelled the unmistakeable scent of a woman ready to be fucked. He traced a bead of sweat running down her breast and, meeting the beautiful woman's eyes, smiled and gave one of the pegs a firm twist.

Kalyndra's legs almost collapsed under her from the pain in her tit. She also felt an electric shock in her pussy. Savouring the pain he gave her, Kalyndra met his eyes with an even gaze, neither defiant nor imploring, just accepting. Ezra smiled at her again, at her heat and longing, her pain turning into wet arousal. He let her twisted nipple return to normal and turned to work on Devon, who was properly worried again now.

First he gagged her and then greedily sucked her nipples to erection. He tweaked them to stretch them out. Devon had sensitive nipples, the more so when she was aroused; and, despite her anxiety, she was strongly aroused. She was feeding off Kalyndra's reactions. The more Kalyndra submitted to the pleasure of being used, the more Devon feared Ezra would do the same to her; and the more it turned her on, despite her fear.

He rubbed a peg against a nipple and she shied away strongly. He worked some more on the nipple. Then he pulled it out sharply and attached the peg. Devon screamed and he immediately pulled off the peg and threw it away. He gently massaged her tit and her cries died down to a whimper until she was quiet.

Clearly, she hated having her nipples pegged; yet it had a strong effect on her. Her clit was buzzing and she felt warmth in her pussy. He cupped her mound, lightly rubbing over her clitoris. She almost came, bucking and whimpering, but he moved his hand away immediately, letting her squirm without satisfaction, tantalisingly horny and restrained.

He turned back to Kalyndra, lifted her and plonked her face-down on the bed on her knees. He pulled her head up by her hair until she was looking forward.

"Push up your bottom," Ezra commanded. Kalyndra obeyed, arching her back and exposing herself for whatever he was about to do.

He guided Devon in an ungainly shuffle to kneel by the bed, facing Kalyndra. Devon could feel her girlfriend's heavy breathing as the raven-haired beauty grimaced at the throbbing pain from the nipples she was lying on.

"Listen carefully," Ezra commanded. "I am going to give you girls forty spanks. Kali will be first. Devon, it's up to you to say how many spanks she receives because you'll have the remainder. Watch her face and stop me when you think she's had enough. Do you understand?"

Devon nodded and Ezra immediately began spanking Kalyndra's bottom with the small wooden paddle. She grunted. They were not hard strokes at first but they gradually got harder. Her plan was to take as many spanks as possible, to spare Devon. She hoped the other girl would read her expressions correctly and not try to be generous. The sixth to tenth spanks were hard enough to make Kalyndra moan out load. Her bottom felt hot and raw. She was sweating but she shook her head in answer to the fearful question Devon posed to her with her eyes.

Spanks eleven to fifteen were stronger yet and raised crimson welts on her buttocks. Spanks sixteen to twenty brought tears and cries muffled by the gag; but still she shook her head at Devon's imploring eyes. Spank twenty-one was ferocious and Kalyndra bit the leather gag fiercely but she didn't give up. Devon was about to take over when Kalyndra shook her head again.

Ezra was giving Kalyndra time to recover between strokes, which oddly made things worse. Spanks twenty-two to twenty-five were softer but excruciatingly slow. Devon wanted to wipe away the tears and saliva that dribbled down Kalyndra's lovely face. Her own face ran with sympathetic tears.

What Devon couldn't see was that Kalyndra's pussy was also dripping wet. She felt aroused like this whenever Ezra spanked or whipped her and, in the lulls between strikes, she let her mind wander back to previous cherished punishments.

Spanks twenty-five to thirty were quicker and harder but only number thirty was unbearable. Ezra had given up finding unmarked places to strike but simply added to one of the angriest welts with a good swing. Kalyndra shrieked. That was enough. Devon stood up, demanding to take over from Kalyndra.

"At last!" Ezra exclaimed, "Kalyndra, you are an amazing woman - you suffer so beautifully!"

He pulled Kalyndra up and told her to kneel upright. He then loosened a peg from a nipple. She screamed and she screamed again when Ezra sucked blood into the poor abused nub; but she soon died down to a whimper and the tingling warmth that remained in her tit made all the pain worthwhile. A minute later, Ezra repeated the torment on her other nipple. The throbbing pain was horrible at first but it soon mellowed off, sending a fresh flood of desire into her pussy. It also roused Ezra beyond what he could control.

He knelt on the bed behind her and pushed her forward. Her arse was pointed upward, her sodden cleft painfully inviting. He stuffed his cock into her hard. She gasped and pushed back in time with his urgent thrusting.

Now he roughly fucked her, thrusting deeply and relentlessly, One hand held the ropes across her arms, the other pulled her head back by the hair. She loved the tension and the manhandling.

Devon watched in fascination and piqued arousal as Kalyndra's eyes rolled in her head and her ever-more urgent moans filled the hut, drowning out the drumming rain and Ezra's heavy breathing.

She was quickly on the edge of coming, and when he reached around to squeeze a nipple, she came hard, moaning and bucking, her bent legs shaking, unable to straighten.

He reached further down and rubbed her clitoris. Kalyndra erupted again. Her legs shook, she felt the strain in her breasts. The warmth that had built in her pussy surged through her whole body. She climaxed again and again as the twin pressures from Ezra's fingers and cock repeatedly triggered her nerves.

He stopped and pulled out before finishing. Kalyndra wailed a protest behind her gag, wanting his cock back in her; but her complaint became a throaty moan when he grabbed the nut-oil, splashed a load onto her bum and began to open her small hole with a well-oiled finger. She sighed deeply and bucked again as he penetrated two fingers into her arse. More oil and a third finger and she was ready, moaning loudly, arching her back, begging for more.

With some oil on his hot hard cock, already slick from her sopping pussy, Ezra pushed against the puckered entrance and squeezed in. He withdrew and pushed back in and pretty soon was ramming her roughly again. The tight squeeze and her joyful response, meeting him thrust for thrust, were the kind of stimulation that would bring him off quickly. He made sure she came once more. Close to his finish, the pressure building, he reached around and stuffed two fingers into her snatch, pressing her nervy sweet-spot.

As he thrust faster he rubbed her g-spot, bringing her off with a final spasm, convulsing her tightly cramped legs and hunching her back. He felt a rhythmic squeeze on his cock and made a last thrust before ejecting his load, throbbing and groaning in his climax.




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 13



He lay on her as the tension released, holding her tightly and whispering in her ear.

"I love you, my beautiful Amazon, my gorgeous sex-slave," he said.

Kalyndra liked to feel his weight on her and believed whatever he said in his moments of passion. So long as he used her when he felt the need, she was satisfied.

After resting a few minutes, he got up and ordered Devon to climb onto the bed in place of Kalyndra. He pushed Devon onto her back and untied her ankles. He spread her legs wide apart, strapping them to the sides of the bed, pulling her pelvis to the edge. Her arms were still tied behind her, arching her back. He removed Kalyndra's gag and manipulated the girl to kneel on the floor and bent her forward, so her face was between Devon's legs. He gave his orders:

"Kali, you are to prepare Devon's pussy for me. Get her aroused but don't make her cum. I'll be gone a few minutes."

He left the hut to relieve himself and have a wash. Kalyndra lavished her newly-freed tongue on Devon's lovely pink slit, basting her bedmate's pussy-lips and licking her tiny sensitive clitoris to an excited prominence.

Kalyndra was always good with her tongue, but this time the pleasure was different, even heightened. Restraints and the gag made Devon concentrate on the joyful stimulus to her pussy and forget about what she should be doing for her lover. She tried to breathe deeply and not moan so loudly but her responses were outside her control. She shut her eyes and filled the hut with her noise.

When Devon's cries indicated she was rising to a peak, Kalyndra stopped licking, leaving the girl frustrated. She judged Devon had calmed down enough and began again, pushing her tongue through the sweet folds. Devon tried to buck against her restraints. She was soon close to coming, and Kalyndra stopped again, pulling back to breathe hotly on her girlfriend's soaking pussy.

There was a waft of cold wind from the doorway as Ezra returned. The night rain was finishing, leaving a cold mist in the air which settled to form a crisp icy coating on the sandy ground. Ezra was cold when he came back into the hut and rubbed himself with the blanket to warm up.

From the half-closed eyes and the blank far-away look on Devon's face, he could see what a good job Kalyndra had done.

"Well done, Kali. Keep it up," he said.

He began to untie Kalyndra's arms. As her arms were released, he rubbed them to stimulate the circulation. She continued to work on Devon's pussy. She made sloppy noises as she pushed her tongue in deeply and licked up the drips. Or she sucked prettily on the clitoris, letting go of it with a soft popping sound.

"Kali, you can use your fingers as well. ... Devon, I forbid you to cum until I say so. If you cum without permission, I'll give you ten extra spanks. And Kali, if you don't try properly to make her cum, then I'll spank you too. Now get to it."

His words spurred Kalyndra on, who really thought her buttocks had suffered enough, but it shocked Devon into awareness. She had been floating in a world of nebulous pleasure, rising to a beautiful peak, and momentarily forgot the spanks she was due. It concentrated her mind, though she wasn't practised in holding off her orgasms and wasn't quite sure how to do it.

Ezra sat back to watch.

Kalyndra licked well and lovingly. She infiltrated a fore-finger into Devon's ready twat and slowly finger-fucked the girl. Devon squirmed and bucked. Pretty soon, she was fighting to hold off an orgasm. She issued incoherent muffled cries through her gag. Ezra correctly interpreted her as asking permission to cum, which he cruelly chose to refuse.

"Go on, Kali," he ordered. "She can take more."

Licking up a frenzy on Devon's clitoris, Kalyndra pushed another finger into her vagina. Devon's urgent cries again sounded like pleas.

"No, Devon, you can't cum yet."

Kalyndra was tormenting the girl with a slow finger-fucking, sucking on her erect clitoris. Devon's next plea was louder and more nearly comprehensible. Though still muffled, it sounded like:

"Oh, God! Please Ezra, I really need to cum! Please?"

"Not yet, Devon. You can hold it for now."

She couldn't: she really couldn't; but she wanted to try, to please him; to do for him what Kalyndra did. Devon struggled mightily, took deep breaths and sent her mind somewhere else and somehow managed to push down the rising pink passion that was fogging her brain.

"Keep going Kali."

Kalyndra removed her mouth from Devon's snatch and used both her hands. She used the fingers of her left hand to rub gently sideways over Devon's clitoris while she put the middle two fingers of her right hand into her bedmate's vagina, preparing to move them up and down rather than in and out, as she had been doing.

This was something Ezra had done to her many times and it always had a quick and strong reaction. She looked around at him to check it was all right to start. After all, it was a kind of cheating, triggering a reflex Devon couldn't control. He grinned and nodded. She began slowly massaging inside the restrained girl's vagina, not hard enough to force an orgasm from her. It was wildly arousing, none the less, and Devon struggled to maintain herself.

"Do you want to cum, Devon?" Ezra asked.

Her muffled reply meant "Yes, please, Ezra. I really need to."

"I'm not sure we should let you. I think we should give you your punishment first; then you'll have the orgasm to look forward to. What do you think, Kali?"

It was cruel, making Kalyndra party to his decision but she was a merciful woman.

"I think we should make her cum now and again after the spanking," she suggested.

"Or maybe we should make her cum and give the spanking to you instead."

Kalyndra kept silent, but he saw the fear on her face.

"All right, how about this? If Devon can hold off coming while I count to ten, I'll let her spank you,"

Kalyndra gave him the nearest to a disapproving look that she could manage while in her submissive mood,

"... using the big paddle ..."

Kalyndra's face went blank 

"and if she can't hold off coming, then I will spank her as planned."

Devon squirmed and tried to sit up but her legs spread in the splits and her arms crossed behind her back didn't permit the manoeuvre for long. She collapsed back down and tried to resist the irresistible pleasure Kalyndra was building in her pussy.

"Are you ready Kali?"

"Yes, Ezra."

"Devon, try to hold it off for a count of ten, starting ... now. One!"

Kalyndra began to vibrate Devon's pussy, pressing down with a flat hand on her bush, rubbing the other hand up and down between the restrained girl's legs, the two fingertips pressing on the g-spot with every upward motion.

Devon wailed and writhed, unable to resist the pleasure inflicted on her.

"Two!"

She cried out, shaking, trying to twist her legs and arms out of their restraints.

"Three!"

Ezra hardly got the word out before it was all over. Devon erupted, ejaculating in great heaving convulsions, emitting a howl of agonised pleasure, squirting her release over the end of the bed.

As her back arched and her thighs shook, her contracting pussy muscles pushed Kalyndra's fingers out. She whined in protest when Kalyndra forced her fingers back in and vibrated her a second time. A few seconds later the restrained girl cried out, shaking in another squirting frenzy.

Kalyndra was soaked but ecstatic. She loved to feel Devon's contractions on her fingers and kept the tormented girl in her happy place by rubbing her hand sideways over the tiny clitoris as she forced out a third, fourth and fifth orgasm.

Now Devon was spent. She was at her limit of pleasure and any more stimulation would be painful. Kalyndra stopped and pulled away.

Devon was still squirming, riding her aftershocks. Her face and chest were flushed, her legs shaking. Eyes closed, she panted for breath.

"Go on, Kali," Ezra said, "Hold her."

Kalyndra climbed onto the bed and lay on the sensitised and vulnerable girl. She fed her arms under Devon to hug her and help bring her down gently from her ecstatic peak.

"You can untie her, Kali."

Kalyndra undid Devon's gag and kissed her bedmate on the mouth while Ezra untied the ankle straps. Devon used her new freedom to wrap her legs around Kalyndra, not caring about her tied-up arms, until her tension had drained away.

"Turn her over, Kali," he said. The girls rolled and he undid Devon's ropes. He held her arms out and massaged them.

With her arms free, Devon knelt astride Kalyndra, her hands on her lover's shoulders, while Kalyndra held Devon tightly around the waist. He let the girls hold each other and snog for a few minutes, getting comfortable, then he said:

"Devon, it's time for your punishment."

Devon went stiff. She was dreading this moment. She tried to relax and control her errant breathing.

"Move down the bed," he commanded.

She moved until she was kneeling at the end of the bed, her beautiful bottom poking wantonly upward.

"Kali, move the other way and spread your legs."

Kalyndra scooched to wall-side of the bed and sat up against a pillow, legs spread wide.

"Devon, you're to pleasure Kali while I spank you. And, Kali, every time she lifts her mouth from your pussy, you're to tell me because she'll earn an extra spank. Understood?"

Both girls nodded and Ezra tied Devon's wrists to her ankles, restraining her in position, her face in Kalyndra's lap, her knees bent under her, legs shoulder-width apart, back arched. She had beautiful buttocks: pert and rounded with a triangular gap at the top of her thighs when she stood straight. Now the gap was wider, revealing her inviting wet pink slit and pretty brown bush.

"All right, Devon. Start on Kali's pussy."

Devon loved kissing her bedmate's long thin slit. Now she had the pleasure of adoring it after it had been warmed up, made slick and stretched by Ezra's cock. She pushed her tongue in between the folds and tried to stimulate the nerves on the sides and top of Kalyndra's vagina.

She was concentrating on giving the best tongue-job she could when she felt the rough edge of a paddle drag over her right buttock. She braced herself but nothing happened. Instead, another paddle dragged over her left buttock. It seemed to be a bigger paddle because the stroke took longer. Then she felt a tap from the first paddle. It wasn't a spank, though it made her jump; yet she didn't lift her mouth from Kalyndra's pussy.

There was a slightly harder tap with the big paddle. Devon couldn't stop herself jumping, but she kept her mouth in place.

She realised that Ezra was testing out the paddles. He tried the small one again with a harder tap that she felt properly. Then the big paddle once more, which compressed her buttock and left a line of heat.

"Yes," said Ezra, "this is the one."

He whipped the paddle a few times in the air to test its weight, wafting air over Devon's vulnerable bottom.

"Ready for your punishment, Devon?"

She wasn't, but she wasn't going to admit it. She shut her eyes, steeled herself and waited.

Ezra pulled his arm back and swung hard at her. She flinched and yelped and then swallowed her protest, realising she'd been tricked. Ezra had dropped the paddle at the height of the upswing and connected with only his hand; and not too hard either. The slap stung only a little.

Spank two on the other buttock was a little harder but easily bearable. Spanks three, four and five on alternate buttocks were each stronger than the previous and she felt her bottom warming up, the stings melding into an overall mild pain.

Ezra now had the right strength of impact for her. Her bottom was a nice warm pink colour, tender and responsive. He left gaps between each of the sixth to ninth spanks, which were of the same strength. She endured them well and never once lifted her mouth from Kalyndra's pussy; but as soon as he delivered her tenth spank, she lifted her head up.

"What is it, Devon," Ezra asked. Though the tenth spank had been no harder than any previous one, he was concerned and put his hand gently on her arms, ready to start untying her. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Devon told him.

"Then why did you lift your head?"

"You told me you'd give me an extra spank if I moved my mouth from Kalyndra's pussy."

"So I did."

"Well?"

"Well what?"

But Kalyndra had caught on and laughed.

"Oh, I see," Ezra said, smiling broadly. "All right, Minx, one more."

Devon bent down to service Kalyndra again and Ezra gave her an eleventh spank. Again, she deliberately lifted her head. The twelfth spank was a little harder. It jolted her and she nearly forgot to lift her head but she managed in time and earned a thirteenth spank that was incrementally harder again.

They carried on like this, with slightly harder spanks until the eighteenth in the series, when Devon realised she'd reached her limit. She kept her mouth in place and the punishment stopped.

None of the spanks had been as hard as any endured by Kalyndra, yet Devon's bottom was hot and throbbing. She had the same response as Kalyndra: the sharp pain dissolved, leaving a sensuous warm feeling that spread about her body, to give the aching arousal that only a finger or a cock in her pussy would fully relieve. Devon had an urgent desire to be filled and used. Warm moisture glossed her pussy lips and formed dew-drops on her pubic hair.

Giving the spanking had revived Ezra's sex-drive: he was fully charged. Hard and ready, he stood behind Devon and thrust his cock up to the hilt in her wet welcoming pussy. Devon moaned loudly as he thrust. Neglecting Kalyndra's pussy, she arched her back. Ezra gradually quickened his pace. Soon he was pounding into her, panting from the effort. His thighs rubbed on her tender punished buttocks, which added fire to the joyful fucking. He gripped her waist tightly.

Devon came quickly, crying out "Yes! God! Yes!"

He put a hand in her hair and pulled her head back, the other hand massaged a tit. She was in an even steeper arch: her eyes shut, her mouth open, her moans echoed off the hut walls.

Kalyndra now knelt up and leaned forward to put her hand between Devon's legs and rub her clitoris. Devon shrieked and came again. Her body rocked from the twin assaults of Ezra's rough fucking and Kalyndra's questing fingers. She tried to meet his thrusts with her own but the restraints allowed her little movement. Her thighs shook and her back arched with a third orgasm.

A fourth orgasm had her pleading between gasps.

"Oh God! No more, no more. Please, I can't take any more," but her pussy erupted with another spasm, the convulsions straining her arms and legs, words forming in her throat but unable to get out. Still Ezra pumped away, close to the edge himself.

Devon couldn't strain any more, couldn't respond any more, couldn't speak or think. All she could feel was the tight sensation between her thighs, the ripples of ecstasy and the sharp heat that broke over her chest and spread from her toes to the top of her head.

In his final moment, Ezra increased his pace even more. He felt Devon succumb to another shuddering climax and then it was all over for him. He throbbed, groaned and panted as he spurted his cum into her with tension-busting surges, making a last few slow thrusts until he was completely spent.

He stood in place, holding Devon tightly as the tension waned from their bodies. Kalyndra wiped the sweat from Devon's face and planted sweet soft kisses on her lips.

When Ezra withdrew, they untied Devon and the three of them lay together in an exhausted and sweaty but satisfied pile. Not for long, though. Aware that Devon's pussy-licking had been building Kalyndra up to a climax but not actually delivered it, he rolled the beautiful girl on her back and lay on her, kissing her deeply.

He pushed a finger into Kalyndra's snatch and used his thumb to flick over her clit. He pushed in a second finger and rubbed her sweet spot. It didn't take long to get her back on the plateau. She arched her back and popped her tongue out into his mouth.

Devon now took part. Lying on the other side of Kalyndra, she put her lips to an exposed tit and sucked on the nipple, twiddling it with her tongue and then taking it into her mouth to suck hard. That was all Kalyndra needed. She arched further, held her breath and came with a satisfying spasm and a throaty moan.

Ezra gently caressed her pussy for a minute or two, to draw out her aftershocks, then he let her relax, holding her warmly. The three of them lay together in a moment of post-coital bliss.

Ezra had to go out of the hut again and, when he came back, he put out the oil lamp and threw a blanket over the girls, who were cuddling face-to-face. He got into the bed on Devon's side and lay against her.

"Ooh! You're cold," she said, but she didn't move away.

"You're hot," he replied.

It was true. Devon was still glowing from the spanking, the restraints and the rough fucking. It left her sexually drained but fulfilled, needing to be held but also wanting to share her warmth and happiness. She wanted to talk about it.

"It was amazing!" she exclaimed. "Kali, is it like that every time for you and Ezra?"

"Mmm hmm," was all Kalyndra would say.

"But really, Kali, you never described it like that."

"Go to sleep, Darling," Kalyndra said in a drowsy voice.

"But I can't sleep," Devon protested. "My brain is fizzing. I've got to say something."

"Do you both want to talk about what we did?" Ezra asked.

"No," said Kalyndra.

"Yes," said Devon. The girls paused, trying to read each other's minds.

"I can't please both of you," he said.

"You just did," Kalyndra said with a contended sigh.

"I mean I can't talk about tonight with Devon and not talk about it with you, Kali, while you're still here."

"Why don't you want to talk about it, Kali?" asked Devon.

"I'll talk about it with you, not with Ezra."

"Why?"

"Because he's the man. I want him to be remote, mysterious, inexplicable. If we talk about it, then I'll begin to understand him. I'll learn to anticipate and prepare myself, rather than simply obey and accept."

"But what we just did, it was so intimate, so primal!" Devon protested. "How can mere talking about it be any more revealing?"

"What we did - you and I - we did without thinking. We reacted instinctively. Ezra did the thinking. I don't want to over-analyse it and risk losing it. I just want to trust and enjoy."

For an exhausted woman, whose brain was still buzzing from her last sexual high, Kalyndra made a remarkably clear-headed case for keeping sex out of her head.

"I understand, Darling," Devon insisted, "honestly I do; but I've had sort of a revelation and I'm going to burst if I don't talk. I don't think I'll over-analyse it. Please let me? After all, it might only be nonsense."

It was in Kalyndra's loving nature not to refuse her bedmate anything; and Ezra didn't think it was his place to interfere in girl-talk. Besides, he was interested himself.

"Go on," said Kalyndra.

"Darling, I think I understand what you get from being tied up, spanked and played with. You've explained it to me as submission, as letting go, making Ezra take charge; but that's not what I felt."

"I think the restraints made me concentrate on my orgasms, making me think about coming as a relief from all the tension. When Ezra first played with my tits and briefly put the peg on, I almost had an orgasm, though I absolutely hated the pain. If I'd concentrated hard and he'd teased me some more, threatening me with the peg, over and again, I'm sure I would have come."

"Mmm!" Ezra said. "That's something to try."

"All right, Darling," Kalyndra said. "Don't reveal any more to Ezra. He'll just use it against us. You know he's got a delicious mean streak."




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 13



"I know, but I've just got to say this. It's odd. When we were bedmates, Ezra and I fucked harder and for longer than just now and I wasn't tied up. I came pretty hard then. But I came so much harder tonight and so many times more. It was wonderful!"

"All right." Devon sounded contented at last. "That's all I wanted to say."

Kalyndra held Devon in her arms and they pressed their mouths together, holding the kiss as true lovers do to say goodnight. They took their turns to kiss Ezra the same way; then Kalyndra climbed over him to snuggle up on the other side. The girls lent against him and rested their heads on his chest, their hands clasped together. At last, they all fell into a comfortable and dreamless sleep.

2 Return to the crash-site

As arranged, the Herders arrived next morning at the Mariner Settlement.

Solange and Megan led five horses into the camp. Two of the riderless horses pulled sleds: one full, one empty. The fifth horse was equipped for a rider, with reins, stirrups and a blanket tied on with leather bands around its chest.

The women hopped off their horses into the busy Mariner camp, where preparations for their journey to the Cloner Fair were continuing. Ezra heard the commotion and left his two lovely bedmates asleep in each other's arms to join Calliope and Ferne in welcoming the Herders.

"Good morning, Mermaids," Solange called out.

"Good morning, Solange," Calliope answered with a smile. "What have you brought us?"

"Rations and equipment for the salvage party and an empty sled to take your trade goods to the Cloner Fair."

Ezra greeted Megan with a kiss and took a look in the sled. It carried a basket of dried meat, bladders of milk, tents, blankets, spare baskets for the salvage goods and more empty leather bags. Megan had separated the large pack-horse from the others and tied its reins to her own mare.

"Morning, Earthman," Solange called to him.

"Morning, Madam Cowgirl. Thanks for all this. It's wonderful!"

There was real affection in his voice and more than affection in the look they exchanged, holding it longer than necessary. Then Ezra asked:

"Also, thanks for lending us Megan. She's a good choice."

"No choice: the lucky slut pulled the longest straw."

There was little for the Herders to do in the operation, so only one Herder woman was needed to join the salvage party. Megan was the lithe and lusty gymnast who had showed Ezra she had more than horse-riding tricks up her sleeve. She smiled happily, pleased to be a lucky slut.

Under Calliope's orders, the Mariners began to load their trade goods and tents into the empty sled. This left the fifth horse free to whinny and fret. Solange grabbed hold of its reins, pulling it to order.

"This is the spare horse you wanted, Earthman," she said.

It was a sleek brown mare with a black mane, white fetlocks and a white diamond on its forehead. Slightly smaller than Solange's own high-spirited mare, it was just as bad-tempered, snorting and stamping out its excess energy.

Ezra instinctively kept his distance and the Mariner girls, who'd come to see the horses, asked Megan if they could stroke her more docile pony.

"Where are they?" Solange asked.

He looked around and saw Wildchild and Tamar standing modestly at the back of the crowd. He beckoned them forward.

"Come on you two," Solange said. "Why are you dawdling? Come and say hello to her."

Ezra hadn't told them this arrangement but let it be a surprise. When Wildchild and Tamar realised the horse was for them, they ran over quickly. Solange threw the reins over the horse's neck and stepped away.

Wildchild approached first. She stayed in the horse's vision the whole way, walking boldly up to stroke it gently on the nose. After a minute, she put her arms around the horse's neck and pressed her face to its skin. The mare stopped stamping, bent her neck around and nuzzled Wildchild's back.

Approval gained, Wildchild grabbed hold of its mane and lifted herself up to sit on its withers. After this impressive feat of strength, she got comfortable with her feet in the stirrups and grabbed the reins in one hand. Tamar was next. She said hello to the horse as Wildchild had done and, having gotten her neck licked, asked Ezra to help her. He understood: he cupped his hands and she stood in them and mounted with a nimble athleticism that Megan would be proud of. She sat on the blanket and held Wildchild around the waist.

With a whoop, Wildchild kicked the mare into motion and took a canter around the beach settlement.

It seemed a miracle to Ezra how quickly the girls had pacified the mad beast and made it obey them.

"I know what you're doing," he said to Solange.

"What am I doing?"

"You gave the girls a test, to see if they could tame a feisty horse."

Solange only smiled.

"Or are you even more cunning?" he wondered.

"I doubt it."

"I think you are," he persisted. "You gave them a wild horse to remind them what good horsewomen they were. Those girls are going to remember what it feels like to control a horse."

"Once a Herder, always a Herder, Ezra. Even you don't flinch when you go near the animals anymore."

It was true. Horses still worried him, and he didn't take any chances, but he was no longer petrified of them.

When the girls returned, they'd swapped places. Tamar, every inch a confident horsewoman, fully in control of her mount, trotted the mare smoothly into the camp and stopped by Ezra.

He smiled happily at Solange and said:

"Thank you for this. I owe you something big."

"It's not that big, Ezra, but you definitely owe it to me."

Megan and some of the nearby women giggled.

"I didn't mean that!" Ezra protested, but Tamar asked, "What's not that big?"

Wildchild, sitting behind, nudged her and whispered something.

"But I don't understand," Tamar protested. "How can I learn anything if I can't ask questions?"

Ezra gave Solange a "now see what you've done" look but she laughed it off. Creative vulgarity was her speciality. She looked around to check that everything had been loaded on the sled and, satisfied, hopped onto her horse.

"I'll see you in a month, Earthman. Save some of your energy for us Herders."

"Aren't you staying for breakfast?" Calliope asked.

"No thanks," Solange said. "You keep your fish for yourselves. I'll see you Mermaids at the Cloner Fair."

With that, the Mercurial chief of the Herder tribe kicked her horse into motion and towed away the laden pack-horse, leaving the Mariner camp as quickly as she'd arrived.

***

The rest of the morning was spent having a good breakfast, to which the sleepyheads, Kalyndra and Devon, arrived so late they avoided all the work of loading the sled and cooking. They meekly accepted the good-hearted jibes of the other women and even the sharp-tongued Devon didn't answer back. She merely stretched, yawned and breathed out a long contented sigh. Both the girls looked so serene and content that the laughing women gave up trying to tease them.

After breakfast, there were friendly goodbyes and good-luck wishes; then the salvage party began its trek to try to find the crash-landing site. They went in two groups: Ezra, Dagma, Kalyndra, Devon, Cressi and Thalassa paddled the raft; Megan, Wildchild, Carlin and Tamar went on horseback.

As the senior Mariner, Kalyndra was captain of the raft. She gathered a large group to help launch them into the estuary. Once launched, those on-board had to paddle hard to get the sluggish raft under way. With a steady rhythm established, however, the going got easier and the raft's momentum began to work in their favour.

Thirty or so minutes later, after a strong effort from the crew, they cleared the headland on the south side of the bay opposite the island and entered the open ocean. From now on, until the wind picked up in the evening, it would be a smooth journey on a calm sea.

Ezra knew that, somewhere on the long concave crescent of the shore, between the headland behind them and the place, seventy miles distant, where the southern mountains tumbled drunkenly into the ocean, there was a sunken space-ship with a treasure-trove of old-Earth technology and tools. Buoyed by that prospect, the crew of the raft paddled hard, keeping up their rhythm by chanting a Mariner work-song.

The riders were miles ahead by the time the raft cleared the headland. They had planned to walk, so they could keep an eye on the raft, but the paddlers had a long detour to begin with and Wildchild and Tamar wanted to gallop, so they set off hell for leather and were soon five miles across the plain and far out of sight of Megan and Carlin, who had to go slower because they were tied to the pack-horse and its sled.

Carlin had never been on a horse before, so Megan went carefully, not wanting to frighten the girl. It turned out that Carlin, despite her shyness and fragile elfin features, quickly got used to being on horseback and was keen to go fast. It disappointed her that Megan hadn't galloped after her friends.

Glad to be on horse-back again, Wildchild and Tamar felt like princesses of the plains. Tamar even stopped her chatter to enjoy the ride. Wildchild slowed the horse to a trot and the girls looked around. They didn't expect to recognise anything, neither shoreline nor the line of mountains behind the distant forest, but they both had a clear idea of what to look for.

They were interested in the small brooks and streams that flowed over the plain toward the sea because they crossed more than one on their journey from the crash-site to the Woodlander Camp.

When Megan and Carlin caught up with the girls, it was lunchtime and they stopped in a small lush valley to let the horses drink and graze. Wildchild stood on a hillock and looked out to the coast, hoping to see the raft, but it wasn't visible.

The rafters didn't stop for lunch but ate as they paddled, making steady progress all afternoon across a sparking ocean. There was no relief from a hot sun and the salty wind but what a hat and a splash of water might provide.

Five hard hours later, they'd done about fifteen miles and were exhausted. Now a strong cold wind was blowing, making the sea choppy. Waves splashed over the starboard out-rigger and soaked the knees of the paddlers. Progress was getting harder and though there was plenty of daylight left, it was surely time to head for the shore and beach the raft for the night.

Kalyndra stood to look around for a good place to stop. The shore here was a thin beach leading to sand-dunes that rose steeply to the grassy plain. At the top of one sand-dune, they saw a horse and rider again for the first time in hours. Wildchild had been watching the raft, waiting for them to see her. She waved and signalled them to go further along the shore.

Kalyndra waved back and gave the order to carry on. Wildchild trotted down to the beach and emerged from between the grass-tufted dunes. She led the rafters on to where the dunes were cut by a narrow river valley.

It was a good place to stop. They could refill their water-bladders and the deep trench cut through the sand by the river offered good mooring for the night without having to drag the raft up the beach.

The paddlers put in an final effort and guided the raft into the shelter, gaining a helpful push from the insistent waves at their back. Having wedged the raft between the muddy banks of the stream, the crew at last stood up and stretched, though Cressi collapsed on the ground, breathing heavily.

"I don't know why I volunteered for this punishment!" the playful girl said, not at all bitterly.

"I'm grateful you did," Ezra said, offering her a hand up.

"How grateful?" she asked.

"Not that grateful, Cressi," Devon said. "Take your turn."

Cressi stuck her tongue out at Devon. "Easy for you to say."

"Yes, isn't it?"

The rafters followed Wildchild over a dune to where the riders had set up three tents. It was a flat grassy meadow, fifty feet from the stream and sheltered from the wind and sea by a line of high dunes. A dinner of cold cuts of meat and cheese in dry soft flat-bread with milk to drink was prepared and gratefully eaten.

They all went early to bed in the roomy four-man tents. The Woodlanders (Dagma, Wildchild, Carlin and Tamar) shared one. Kalyndra, Devon and Ezra were officially bedmates and shared the second tent. Megan, Cressi and Thalassa shared the third. The lusty Cressi might have thought it was a waste of a night with Ezra just to sleep, but Kalyndra and Devon were too tired to do anything. They kissed goodnight and slept sandwiched together to keep warm.

Next morning, the whole groups was needed to push the raft out to sea again, then the rafters got on board and paddled away, leaving the riders to clear up the campsite and pack up the tents. After paddling a while, the rafters ate a breakfast of dried fish.

"I hope you like fish, Dagma," Devon said, not unkindly, "because it's your lunch as well."

"I love fish," she replied, with the diplomatic grace of a chief's daughter.

Taking their time clearing up the camp and meandering slowly on their way to get their bearings by the mountains and the brooks, the riders caught up with the rafters by mid-morning and were a few miles ahead again by lunchtime. Tamar went in front today and rode slowly, giving Wildchild the chance to stand on the back of the horse and get a better look around, occasionally holding Tamar's shoulders for balance.

Studying the line of trees in the distance, the slope of the beach and the small hills and valleys, she pointed out a stream to Tamar. They left Megan and Carlin to follow the line of the coast and, instead, steered the mare along the valley of the stream. They'd meandered a few miles and lost sight of the sea when Wildchild mumbled in disappointment. It wasn't the right valley. They carried on southward.

They were many miles inland when they reached a small ridge of land beside another narrow meandering stream. Tamar stopped in the middle of the stream and turned the horse around slowly. Babbling water on a leisurely path to the sea lapped over the horse's ankles. The water was clear and they could see a river-bed of pebbles.

Wildchild stood up again to look along the shallow valley toward the forest. She used one of her scarce store of words.

"Remember?" she said.

"Yes," Tamar said. "There was a kingfisher."

Heading more west than south from the stream toward the sea, they gradually sped up as they recognised more of the landscape, eventually galloping with excitement when they saw the coast a few miles away. There was a stretch of smooth yellow sand with a long gentle slope down from the grassland. The shore here made a small dip in an otherwise flat coastline.

This was the place! They were about thirty miles south of the Mariner Settlement, which was hidden behind the curving shore and tall headland. Forty miles further south were the Southern Mountains, abutting the sea as steep cliffs, invisible in the mid-day heat-haze.

The girls made their way back along the shore to intercept Megan and, they hoped, get a glimpse of the raft. Two miles along, they saw the riders and the pack-horse in the distance. They galloped up, excited to tell their news.

"Well done girls," Megan said. "Carlin saw the raft no less than an hour ago. Shall we ride on and set up camp?"

They rode on and found a good spot inland from the beach. There was no stream but lush grass further inland indicated a watering hole or natural spring. They detached the sled from the pack-horse and took the horses to drink at the spring, letting them graze a while.

Back at the campsite, they erected all three tents. Now they kept an anxious eye on the ocean, not wanting to let the raft pass them by mistake.

With the tents set up, Tamar volunteered to ride along the beach to look for the raft; so it was the blonde adolescent who had the joy, fifteen minutes later, of seeing the raft come into view among the waves, about a quarter of a mile from the shore, taking the shorter route across the crescent coast and avoiding the long-shore drift in the shallows. She stood on the back of her horse, waving and shouting.

At last, someone from the raft noticed her and Kalyndra ordered "Oars up!"

The paddles were stowed so they could hear what she said.

"We've found it," Tamar shouted at the top of her fourteen-year-old lungs. "Wildchild found it. It's two or three miles that way."

She pointed further down the beach. Kalyndra, standing up on the raft, waved to say she understood.

"You all heard that?" she checked. "All right, not far to go. Ready? Oars!"

The crew paddled with a mission while Tamar galloped back to the camp to give the good news. In an hour, the rafters were in sight of the girls waiting on the beach.

The landscape had changed in the last few miles, from sand-dunes and a sharply-rising short beach to a longer beach that rose gently to the plain, transforming gradually from golden sand, through sea-spurge and grassy tufts to a thick carpet of green. It seemed familiar to Ezra, though he couldn't trust his memory of a year ago, when he was injured and exhausted.

Kalyndra again ordered the crew to steer the raft toward the shore. They did so gleefully, however tired they were, and with a final lift from a wave, beached the raft on the sand. Everyone grabbed a rope or an outrigger and helped heave the raft further up the beach until it was clear of the water. They planted the oars in the sand between the logs, to secure it from the sea when the night rain would whip up the waves, then they all rested.

All except Ezra. Relieved and happy, he didn't expect such easy success but not wanted to be up and doing.

"Show me the spot," he asked Wildchild and Tamar.

They pointed to a place in the shallow sea about ten yards from the raft.

"We think that's where we found you," Tamar said.

"Girls, you're amazing!" he said, adding: "I know I say that a lot but it's true, especially today."

Ezra stripped to his shorts (rather threadbare and no longer completely respectable) and walked into the water. He swam out a hundred feet or so and then dived under, surfacing a good way south parallel to the shore. He dived and popped up again. A change of direction under water and he scouted north of the spot he believed the ship should be. Clearly he was having no success.

The Mariners had rested now and thought it was only fair that they should help him. There were a couple of hours of good daylight and the tents were already set up by the riders; so they stripped naked, asking the other women to take their clothes to the camp, and joined him.

"I can't see anything," Ezra told them somewhat disconsolately when they reached him.

"How deep is it?" asked Kalyndra.

"About ten feet. I should see her, unless she's sunk into the sea-floor and been covered by sand."

"Maybe you haven't swum out far enough," Devon suggested.

"Possibly, but I was injured and tired, only half-conscious. I can't have swum far."

"If you were half-conscious, you might have swum further than you realise," Thalassa suggested.

"True. Let's try further out."

They swam in a line underwater, five abreast, about ten feet apart, scanning the sea-bottom. When they'd covered a fifty-yard stretch parallel to the beach, they moved out further and repeated. On the fourth sweep, only Ezra's keenness to continue persuaded them not to give up for now. On the sixth sweep they were about eighty yards from the shore: much further than Ezra thought he'd swum from his ship. Here they found something.

Cressi saw something glistening in the murky depth. She swam down and began digging in the sandy sea-floor. The others noticed and helped her dig. It wasn't long before Ezra recognised the silver cowling and exhaust port of a rocket-motor. He had no doubt it was the starboard motor that had failed and caused him to crash. It must have broken off when the ship hit the sea.




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 13



They looked around for the rest of his ship and found it quite easily, about twenty yards further out, half-sunk in the sand. It was lying on its port side, having flipped over as it sank. The hatch through which Ezra escaped from the flooded bridge was still open. A thin layer of green algae clung to every surface and small fish darted in and out of the hatch, colonising the ship like a protective reef.

It was light enough to see through the hatch onto the bridge but not possible to explore now. Maybe Kalyndra, who could hold her breath for five minutes, would manage, but no one else. None the less, they'd found the ship. They surfaced and went back to the camp to prepare for a full day's diving tomorrow.

Five triumphant divers walked out of the sea and across the hot sand up to the camp, where they were met with blankets to dry themselves. The same dinner as yesterday was being prepared and the divers sat with the blankets around them and told what they'd seen.

"It's about one-hundred yards out and in thirty feet of water," Ezra said. "The bridge is well-lighted with a perspex dome but it's quite murky that deep and it'll be very dark further inside; so Kalyndra and I will go in and Devon and Cressi will pass us the air-bags."

"We'll pass the salvage out to them, to put in a basket, which Dagma will haul up. Thalassa will stay by the air-pipes and fill the bags for Cressi and Devon."

Thus agreed, the salvage party went to bed early in the same formation as the previous night. Although there was joy at finding the ship, the crew of the raft had worked harder than yesterday, so even Kalyndra was too tired to goad Ezra into fucking her.

Next morning, they got up early, fortified themselves with breakfast and launched the raft. Dagma, Wildchild, Carlin and Tamar waded out and got on board, taking up paddles. The divers swam beside the raft and helped push it. Megan alone stayed at the camp, taking the horses to graze and tidying up, for want of something useful to do.

When the divers found the site again, they anchored the raft to the sunken vessel with a dozen strong ropes. Then Ezra climbed aboard the raft and, with help from Dagma and the girls, fitted the two long bamboo pipes together with one more as an extension and a u-shaped end-piece, sealing the joints with gum-soaked cloth strips. Two more pipes, of about fifteen feet each, were assembled and all three were attached to bellows.

The bamboo poles were let over the side of the raft. The longest tube was hooked inside the escape hatch. The others were tied to the ropes anchoring the raft.

Wildchild, Carlin and Tamar sat by the bellows, ready to pump air down the bamboo tubes.

Ezra gave his orders.

"Wildchild, will you try pumping the bellows a few times, please? Kali, dive down to the ship and see how much air comes out."

She took a deep breath and did an elegant flip to dive underwater. Wildchild began pumping.

"Don't worry if it's too difficult," he told her, "you're pushing against a lot of water-pressure. It may not work."

However, she seemed to have no difficulty at all. As usual, Ezra was amazed at Wildchild's strength. Pleased, he dived under water and followed the tube down to the ship, checking for leaks. He met Kalyndra coming the other way. She gave him the thumbs up. They surfaced together.

"There's a good stream coming out," she said, "you can see it collecting in the roof."

Ezra hoped that Wildchild's tube would make a reservoir of air in the roof of the bridge, to be used by those in the ship.

"Good," he said, "I think we're set. ... Thalassa, Cressi?"

The girls gathered up the bags they would use to fill with air from the pipes and carry to the divers in the ship. They swam to their positions, holding the anchoring ropes, ready to submerge to the ends of the poles.

"Kalyndra, Devon?"

They also took their positions, ready to dive to the ship.

"Dagma?"

She took up the end of a strong rope that was tied at three places to the rim of a loose-woven basket. She lowered the basket over the side of the raft. It was positioned to rest on top of the ship, near the hatch.

"Ready, Ezra," she said when the basket hit bottom.

"Girls, are you ready?"

The three Woodlander girls gave him the thumbs up.

"All right, then. We're all ready."

He swam out and positioned himself to dive and gave the final order.

"Man the pumps!" he said.

Instead of starting to work the bellows, however, the girls collapsed in giggles.

"All right, what's so funny?" he asked them.

"You said man the pumps, but we're not men," Carlin explained.

"You should have said Girl the pumps!" Tamar helpfully added.

"It means Hands to the pumps," he explained.

"How does man mean hand?" Tamar asked.

"I don't know, but it does."

"I know," said Thalassa, treading water beside the raft. "It's from the Latin 'manus', which means hand. Hence manufacture and manipulate."

"I didn't know that," Ezra admitted. "Thanks. How come you know it?"

"Mum studied the medical book at the Cloner City. It's got lots of Latin in it."

"Well, there you have it, girls. I've come two-thousand light-years to get a lesson on a dead Earth language. So now will you man the pumps?"

They still found it funny and, because he wanted to get some work out of them, he had to relent.

"Girl the pumps!" he said with a sigh. Grinning to each other, the girls began pumping and so the salvage operation at last got underway.

3 Salvaging begins

The sunken ship lay on its side, a yellow and silver tube with a small bulbous front (the bridge, covered by a perspex dome), a fat middle (the hold) and the hyperspace drive at the rear, its concentric silver rings sticking out of the sand like the ribs of a drowned and decayed whale. A long tear along the hull showed where the rocket motor and its supporting strut were sheared off by the impact with the sea.

Built in space and never intended to land on a big planet, the spaceship bulged out where necessary, regardless of aerodynamics or aesthetics. But it was of sound construction and very strong. It seemed to have survived the impact with most parts intact.

Ezra and Kalyndra entered through the hatch on the bridge. Everything was covered with a thin film of green algae. Small fish darted out of their way as they looked around the dormant consoles and lifeless buttons.

Kalyndra was fascinated. She'd never seen inside a spaceship or seen so much metal in one place. She wanted to touch everything: walls, consoles, buttons, his pilot's chair.

Devon and Cressi, taking turns to ferry bags of air from the pipes outside the hatch to the divers inside, were equally fascinated. They took a good look inside.

The divers used the leather air-bags by breathing out first and then pushing their faces upward into the bag, taking two or three breaths, then handing back the empty bag.

A good stream of air bubbled up from Wildchild's pipe and collected in the dome of the bridge. With the expelled air from the bags, there would soon be a few inches of air up there - useful in an emergency.

Ezra first looked for the torch that was usually secured magnetically beneath the navigation console. It was there and, luckily, still worked, though it could do with re-charging in the sun. Its meagre light would help for the moment, adding to the diffuse sunlight that made it through the water onto the bridge.

Ezra also picked up the first piece of salvage. It was a computer pad that linked to the ship's computer but might work on its own. He handed it to Devon, who swapped it for a full air-bag and took it to the basket outside.

He gave the torch to Kalyndra. After taking a few good breaths from the bags, they collected fresh air-bags and swam further into the ship.

The ship was in five parts, separated by four bulkheads. Through the first bulkhead beyond the bridge were two emergency escape pods, one on each side. Given the ship's current orientation, the port one was on the floor and the starboard pod was on the ceiling.

Here the natural light ended and the section of the ship that was through the second bulkhead was picked out in ghostly yellow torchlight. It was the galley, equipped with a stove, larder, cupboards and drawers.

Through the third bulkhead was the living quarters. Here Ezra found another torch. He laid it on the floor to light the passageway. The living quarters had a collapsible bed stowed in one wall and a shower and toilet in the opposite wall. Ezra signalled Kalyndra not to open the toilet door.

The fourth bulkhead led into the hold. This was completely dark and they had run out of air-bags, so Kalyndra went back to the bridge to bring fresh ones. Here Ezra grabbed a third torch from just inside the hold. It was a large one that made a floodlight beam. He took a good look around.

His heavy machinery was still firmly secured and wasn't ripped apart nor shaken to pieces. That was good news, especially because nothing heavy was lying on his tool boxes. It was encouraging.

With Kalyndra back, he swapped their torches and got her to shine a wide beam from the doorway while he swam in to start gathering his tools.

It was slow-going, bringing one or two tools out at a time and grabbing a few breaths, but eventually Ezra made a large pile against the toilet door while Kalyndra swapped tools for air-bags with the other divers. The last item Ezra brought out was a small metal tool-box. Everything else in the hold was too large to salvage easily. He also left behind, hidden and secure, his projectile gun and the powerful plasma cutter that could also be used as a weapon.

By now, the first basket was full and Cressi gave a tug on the rope, signalling Dagma to haul it up. It was heavy, but not too heavy. Soon two baskets of tools were stowed on the raft and drying out in the sun.

The salvage plan was working fine. Sacks of air were coming down and baskets were going up. Ezra and Kalyndra moved into the next section of the ship. They rescued personal stuff from his washing cubicle - towels, toothbrush, a comb and, the most desired item of all, his shaver. These began the third basket.

Sleeping bags, blankets, pillows and a whole bunch of clothes salvaged from the living quarters completed the third basket and easily filled a fourth.

They had nearly finished salvaging the living quarters when the large torch died. The torch on the floor of the gangway had already failed and Ezra had turned his off to preserve it. He turned it back on to guide them out.

They took only the empty air bags and the torches. As they swam out to the bridge, they met Cressi bringing down more bags. They took breaths and made for the hatch, signalling that it was time to take a break. All five divers to the raft and clambered aboard for a rest.

"Well done everyone!" Ezra said after catching his breath. "You're all doing brilliant work. How are your arms, girls?"

"They're fine," said Carlin.

"They hurt," said Tamar.

Wildchild merely smiled. She actually kept on pumping until Ezra told her she ought to rest a little. He had something for her. He looked for his toolbox in one of the baskets, opened it and brought out a laser pen-knife, just like the one he'd lost from his pocket and Juniel, the attentive Mariner girl, had found washed up on the beach.

He gave it to Wildchild. She was overwhelmed.

"Thank you," she said, gracing him with two of her rare spoken words.

"No, thank you, Wildchild." He kissed her forehead.

Tamar and Carlin came over to share in Wildchild's joy. She showed it to them. Wildchild opened its solar panel to charge it up.

Ezra likewise opened the torches to charge their fuel cells in the sun. As the Mariner divers lay on the raft resting, they talked about the ship.

"What's it like?" Dagma asked.

Kalyndra gave her impressions of the strange vessel and the things inside it.

"The living space is really cramped and there's no bed," she said.

"It's in the wall," Ezra explained. "The mechanism is electronic; which is a shame because I'd like to salvage the mattress."

"The cooking area is also small and I didn't see a fire," Kalyndra went on.

"It's called a 'galley'," Ezra explained. "There is a fire but it's inside the oven and it works by a really strong light. Otherwise, I have food packets that heat themselves."

"There was a door that Ezra told me not to open. ... What was that for, Ezra?"

"The 'head' .. the crapper."

"Ew!" said Tamar and Carlin, who thought of the crapper that Ezra has built in the Woodlander Camp.

"It's not like the earth closet in the forest," he explained, "it's got rather intimate attachments to be used in zero gravity and everything ought still to be sealed up against spillage; but just in case, Kali, we shouldn't open that door."

"Can we also go inside for a look?" Cressi asked on behalf of the other divers.

"Of course you can. Sorry I didn't think of suggesting it. We'll do that first when we go back."

After half-an-hour, the torches were charged up enough for another session. The Mariners slipped over the edge of the raft into the water.

"It's good work you've done with the baskets, Dagma," Ezra said. "Were they very heavy?"

"Not at all. Keep them coming."

He smiled his thanks and, taking two torches, dived into the sea.

The girls took turns to be given a quick tour of the ship, including a peek into the hold. What seemed most fascinating to them was his living quarters; but Thalassa was intrigued by the bridge. She swam around looking in wonder at all the buttons and the blank screens. Then they set to work again.

The rest of his clothing was salvaged, then the other personal items from his living quarters, notably his books and two more computer pads.

After this, Ezra and Kalyndra cleared his kitchen of the sealed cooking pots, squeezable cups with lids and cutlery made of an unglamorous ferromagnetic material for use in zero-gravity. The larder was emptied of its store of processed food-kits. They filled a basket with packets of nutrient-rich pap.

After the galley was done, the only things left were the medical bags stored in drawers in the emergency escape pods. It would take a few minutes to liberate them manually, so he signalled Kalyndra to follow him and they surfaced to get some air. The other drivers came with.

"What is it?" Dagma called. She had just pulled up the eighth basket, the one with the food-kits.

"Just getting some air," he said. "We're almost done, for now."

They trod water for a few minutes, then dived back down. There was now more than six inches of air in the roof of the bridge. Ezra took a lungful and swam through the bulkhead to the emergency pods.

The spherical pods were about eight feet in diameter. Opaque underneath, clear perspex on top, they were covered in slimy algae.

Kalyndra held the torch, lighting his work. Devon ferried the airbags to them and Cressi stayed at the hatch.

He pulled a lever on the starboard escape pod. It opened a drawer above them, a thin crack in the metal base of the pod. He slipped his fingers into the crack and pulled out the drawer. A white medical bag with a red cross on it fell out. He handed it to Kalyndra, who passed it to Devon.

Ezra took a few bagfuls of air, put his torch on the floor and lay down to work on the port-side escape pod. He pulled the lever. It moved and seemed to be working but nothing happened. It wasn't just that the drawer was stiff. It seemed locked. While he puzzled about it, the light from Kalyndra's torch wavered. Then the torch dropped past him.

He looked up to see Kalyndra clutching her throat, thrashing and panicking.

Ezra swam up to grab her. He tried to stop her thrashing but she was choking and unfocussed. He pulled her to him, rolled her over and held her by the chin, lying under her. Then he pushed off hard from the pod and glided straight through the bulkhead making for the roof of the bridge. He pushed her face up into the pocket of air but she only gasped and flailed around.

Staving off his own panic, Ezra took a big breath and manhandled her out of the hatch. Pushing past Devon and Cressi, he swam hard for the surface.

On the way, Kalyndra stopped thrashing and went limp in his arms.

Gasping for air as they broke the surface, he threw Kalyndra as hard as he could over the edge of the raft. She started to slip back into the water but Dagma's strong hands grabbed her arms and dragged her on board. Ezra quickly scrambled up. Ignoring all questions, he knelt down by her and laid her on her front. He pulled her arms out from under her chest, pushed her face to one side and opened her mouth; then he put his hands on her back and leant heavily on her chest.

Sea-water erupted from her mouth and nose.

He pushed down hard on her again. There was another gush of water.

One more hard push and he'd cleared her lungs but she wasn't breathing. He turned her over, held her nose, put his mouth against hers and blew hard. Her chest lifted. He took a deep breath and blew hard again. She coughed, tried to breathe in, choked and gasped. He turned her on all fours. She tried to breathe again and then threw up. He held her around the waist and got her to breathe slowly.

Few things hurt more than swallowing sea-water into the lungs. Her throat, nose and chest burned. Her breaths were short and painful. She snorted horrible salt-water out of her nose. But at least she was breathing. The danger was over.

Thalassa was there now. The slight gentle girl forced her way through the ring of women, carrying her medical box. She wiped Kalyndra's face with a wet rag, cleaning away the vomit and tears.

"Breathe slowly, Kalyndra," she said. "It'll get easier."

She was right. It burned less with every breath.

Thalassa offered her fresh water. Kalyndra sat up and tried to drink a mouthful. She tasted sea-water as the fresh water went down and leaned to one side to retch again. She drank another mouthful and that stayed down.

"Thanks," she said in a croaking voice.

"What was it Kali?" Ezra asked. "What happened?"

"I ..." She choked for a second and swallowed more water. "I saw a dead body ... in the pod."

"A dead body?"

"You were trying to open the drawer. ... I wiped away the green stuff on the pod and looked inside. ... There was something. I shone the torch and it was a face ... a dead face. ... I panicked and water got up my nose ..."

Ezra sat back, puzzled, though an answer was forming in his mind.

"Girls, do you mind coming back down another time?" he asked. "Devon, will you come into the ship with me?"

"I'm coming!" said Kalyndra, getting up.

Ezra looked at her. She held his gaze calmly.

"Breathe," he said.

She tried and coughed.

"Again!"

She breathed in deeply and exhaled without coughing.

"Once more."

She pulled in a big lungful and held it. Three minutes later, she slowly released.

Ezra glanced at Thalassa. She nodded.

"All right," he said. "If it's what I think, then we can all help. ... Ready?"

The divers got back in the water.

"Girl the pumps!"

They all dived down again. Devon came into the ship again with Kalyndra and Ezra. He picked a torch off the floor and looked in the escape pod.

There was definitely a body in there, pale and motionless in the restraining harness; eyes closed, not breathing. He nodded to himself and took a look at an instrument panel in the middle of the pod. He wiped away the algae and pressed a button. Lights glowed on the panel. He nodded again.

Signalling Kalyndra to come over, he gave her the thumbs up, hoping she'd understood that everything was all right and not be panicked again. He shone his torch into the pod and let her get a good look at its occupant. There was no shock this time and no panic. Kalyndra looked carefully. Then he showed her the instrument panel. He made a line with his finger under a red number, indicating that she should look at it. Then he touched her forehead.




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 13



She nodded, understanding. He wanted her to remember the red number.

Devon came over next. She also looked inside the pod and he got her to remember another number.

Kalyndra and Devon swapped places with Cressi and Thalassa, who were shown the pod and two more numbers to remember. Then they all swam back to the raft. When they were out of the water and drying in the sun, Ezra tried to explain it all.

"It's someone I know," he explained.

"Her name's Yumi. She's alive but asleep ... in a very deep sleep ... and has been so for the last year. She must have stowed aboard my ship and, when the alarms went off, hidden in an escape pod. She was still in the pod when the ship crash-landed and lay on its side, locking the escape pod in. Then I guess the pod must have automatically triggered the survival program and put her to sleep."

"She looked dead," Kalyndra said.

"She's barely breathing, maybe every half-hour, and her heart is beating only once every few minutes. ... Do you all remember the numbers."

They all nodded and repeated them.

"The numbers tell us her condition: how much energy the fuel cell has left, the time she'd been sedated, and other stuff." (For some reason, he kept the other stuff to himself, for now.)

"All right," he concluded. "Now we have a problem."

"What problem?" Dagma asked.

"Yumi is safe. The pod has a fuel cell which I charged before I left Capella, but it's been under water a year and I don't know how accurate the energy readings were. Besides, it's always best to revive someone from suspended animation as soon as possible. That means extracting the pod from the ship and bringing it to land."

"Is that difficult?" Devon asked.

"Yes. The ship is resting on its port side and it's the port-side pod that Yumi's in. The only way to get it out is to eject the starboard pod and then bring the port pod out through the starboard hatch."

"Is it very heavy?" Devon asked.

"No. ... I mean, it will float, but it's the release mechanism for the hatch that's my worry. It might not work after the crash. Do you all agree that we should try?"

They did, though Kalyndra also said:

"Shouldn't we tell Calliope?"

"Yes. I want the advice of all the chiefs. But, whatever they say, the best thing is to get the pod into the sun where it can charge up its fuel cells."

They agreed to paddle the raft to the beach for the night and come back tomorrow to rescue the escape pod. The divers jumped in for the last time that day to untie the rope anchors and retrieve the bamboo air-pipes, then the heavily-laden raft was steered to shore, unloaded and dragged up the beach.

Everyone helped to sort the salvage items. It was important to protect any fragile or brittle item, such as a computer pad, that may be damaged by the freezing night-rain. Ezra separated a few items as he supervised piling the baskets together, covering them for the night.

The first items he saved her his books, which he presented to Tamar as he'd promised long ago. She was ecstatic and hugged him. She showed them off to everyone (offering to lend them, of course, because she was a generous girl) and chose the only novel, Middlemarch, to start reading. 

It was late afternoon: a good time to rest and enjoy the last of the warm sun before preparing for dinner. They sat in a circle, the divers drying off under blankets, relaxing at last, telling Megan everything they'd done that day. All except for Thalassa, who took her medicine box over to Kalyndra and put ointment on the bruises and scratches she'd received when she was thrown onto the raft.

Tamar described the tasks the girls and Dagma performed. Cressi said what the divers had done. Then Ezra told Megan about Yumi and the plan to rescue the emergency escape pod tomorrow.

When Megan started to talk about dinner, Ezra went and fetched some of the food-packets salvaged from his larder. He gave them out to the nine women, showing them how to pull a strip of plastic at the top to open the packet and set it to heat up the contents. He wished them a hearty appetite and sat back to look at the range of expressions on their faces. Women who'd never had processed food before tried not to hurt his feelings by concealing their disgust at the taste.

Eventually it was too painful to watch. He laughed.

"Don't worry about insulting me, Ladies. I'm afraid the manufacturers put all their effort into making the food nourishing and none into making it appetising, You don't have to eat it."

Eight packets of processed Earth food were immediately thrown into a pile in the middle of the group.

"Though I don't know how you can bear to waste wholesome food," he said in mock protest. "Personally, I find them delicious."

He was set upon by Cressi and Devon, who sat next to him. They wanted to punish him for making them eat such horrible meals.

"Now control yourselves, Ladies!" he said. "I'm enjoying my dinner here."

Carlin, Tamar and Megan didn't want to be left out of the fun. Laughing, they also leapt on him, stopping him eating any more from the packet.

"Ow! You girls are real heavyweights!"

Carlin and Tamar were bouncing on his chest.

"Come on, let me up," he demanded. Instead, they decided to force-feed him some of the dried beef. Not as good as freshly roasted beef, it was better than whatever was in the food-packets.

The fight went on for ten minutes and eventually they forced Ezra to eat the beef by holding his nose and popping it in when he opened his mouth to breathe.

Victory for womankind achieved, Dagma used her authority to bring peace to the camp before they kicked over a tent or broke open a basket.

The fighters sat quietly back in their places, panting from the effort.

While they were fighting, Ezra hadn't noticed that Kalyndra ignored the food-packet and took no part in the discussion. Now that she could rest, she began to really feel the shock and panic she'd suffered when she almost died. She sat under her blanket and shivered. She couldn't stop shaking. Her teeth chattered. She put her head on her upraised knees, wrapped her arms around her legs and tried to control her breathing,

Ezra and Devon happened to look for her at the same time and saw she was suffering. They both got up and went to her. Ezra was there first. He didn't notice Devon beside him.

He sat facing Kalyndra and put his blanket around them both.

"You're shaking all over, Darling," he said. "What's wrong?"

"I'm so silly," she stammered against chattering teeth. "I can't shop shaking."

"Here, get close."

She put her arms around him and pulled her onto his lap. He held her tightly, rubbing her back. She was weeping.

"It's all right," he said. "... I know what it is. You've been surviving on adrenalin alone and now the reaction has set in. ... It'll pass."

He spoke soothingly, calmly, knowing the sound of his words were as important as their sense.

She put her head on his shoulder and tried to breathe evenly. Her teeth still chattered and her hands shook.

"I almost drowned. ... You saved me. ... You saved my life!"

"Our life," he said.

"What do you mean?"

"You belong to me, your life is mine."

"Yes," she whispered.

"And I belong to you. We have a shared life. That's what love is."

It was nice to hear but she was still shivering and weeping.

"Can you love someone so silly and scared," she sniffed.

"Kali, you went back to the ship. After nearly dying, you went back to the ship. ... You're the most courageous woman I know."

"I am?"

"How can you doubt it?"

She paused. She knew she was loved. She began to feel comforted.

"I can't doubt it, not now."

"Good. ... Are you hungry? Or do you want to rest?"

"I'm hungry."

"I'll get you some soup. It tastes of nothing but it's hot and nourishing."

"Don't leave me!"

"I'll be gone only two minutes, I promise. ... I'll get Devon to hold you. ... Devon!" he called out.

"I'm here," she said quietly, right beside him.

"Here's Devon, Darling."

Ezra got up and opened the blanket. Devon got inside and sat facing Kalyndra. They held each other close and he wrapped the blanket around them.

He chose a soup from the basket of food and pulled the plastic strip. A minute later it was piping hot. He took it over to them.

Kalyndra was calming down. Still naked from the swim, the girls sat skin-to-skin inside the blanket, gradually warming up. Devon held her tight and kept her calm while Ezra fed her the soup. She ate it all and didn't care about the taste.

Now Kalyndra began to feel tired. The shock, the panic and all the adrenalin had exhausted her. Warm and relaxed, she rested her head on Devon's shoulder and finally stopped shaking.

"Do you want to go to bed, Kali," he asked her.

"I want to stay here, with you two."

"Come on, Devon, let's put her to bed. It's almost evening anyway."

"I'll stay with her, Ezra," Devon said.

By this time, everyone was thinking about going to their tents. Wildchild wanted to play with her laser-pen. Tamar wanted to borrow a torch and read one of her books. The divers were tired from a hard day's work. Only Megan, having had little to do all day, was restless.

He helped Devon put Kalyndra to bed. They lay down together and he covered them with the blanket. Then Ezra spoke to Megan for half-an-hour.

The first thing he did was ask to see her forearm, where he'd burned her with his pen-knife. The scar was barely visible but he kissed it anyway. It was something he would never forgive himself. She put her hand on his cheek. She'd given up telling him it was her fault, not his.

Then he told her in detail how the pod was keeping Yumi alive and what he expected them all to do tomorrow.

"I also want to consult the chiefs," he said.

"When?" Megan asked.

"As soon as possible. What do you think?"

"I think it's for the best. I'll prepare the horses tomorrow and be ready to leave whenever you say."

It sounded vaguely to him as though she'd expected this but he couldn't see how. It was night-time now, however, and time for bed.

Kalyndra stirred when Ezra entered the tent. She and Devon were resting in each others arms under the blanket. Devon was wide-awake but Kalyndra had relaxed enough to sleep for fifteen minutes.

"Sorry to wake you," he said, snuggling up next to Kalyndra. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better. I was so silly, crying and being scared."

"Nonsense!"

"But I'm over it now. I feel better, much better. Will you hold me?"

He leaned over to hold her.

"Tighter," she said.

He pulled her to him and put his arms firms around her waist. She put her hands in his beard and kissed him. Immediately, she felt the welcome stiffening of his cock against her thigh. It turned her on. She forgot her fatigue and how scared she'd been but remembered only how good it felt to be held in his arms, safe and protected. She wanted more.

She lay back and pulled him onto her. It was intimacy she wanted and it was her biological programming that was driving it, driving her feelings of sexual desire. She wrapped her legs around his waist. He loved when she did that, as if she was saying, I'm never letting you go.

"I love you," she said.

"I love you too, Darling. Please don't scare me like that again."

"I won't. Please always be there to save me."

"I'll try."

She took his hand and put it on her breast, holding it there. She lifted her mouth to his, putting her tongue into his mouth, pushing the tip in and out. This was one of her signs that she wanted sex.

The emotions she felt that day - so raw, so primal - needed an equally raw and primal outlet, a sexual outlet, the way humans normally express their intimacy.

They kissed for some minutes and she grew hotter. He was worried that she was developing a fever. He put his hand on her forehead. She was normal. It was sexual heat alone; the strongest sexual heat he'd ever felt in her.

"Do you want it?" he asked. "Even after all that happened?"

"Because of all that happened. ... Please fuck me, Ezra! Please ... I really need it!"

"God, I can't resist you, Darling, but I'm going to break my promise."

"No you aren't," Devon said and fetched Kalyndra's ropes from her sack in the corner of the tent. "Give me your hands, Kali."

She put up her hands and Devon tied her wrists together, not at all tightly, and secured them to a corner pole of the tent.

Ezra massaged the tit. His hard cock pressed on her belly. She was hot and aching for it, the tension of the day literally leaking out through her pussy.

"Now, please, Darling," she begged. "Take me now! I want your cock in me. Please?"

Normally he'd spank her to warm her up. Normally he'd suck her tits to excite her. Normally he'd lick her pussy to make sure she was sopping wet and give her an orgasm or two before losing his will to resist and sticking his cock in her. But she was hot and ready now, squirming under him, begging for his cock, turned on like nothing before. It turned him on like nothing before.

He kissed her again, pulled back, positioned his cock and pushed in. Her pussy was wet and welcoming. She gasped happily and stuck her tongue in his mouth again, tightening her grip on his waist with her legs.

He began to thrust slowly, long strokes, pulling out all the way and pushing back in. She breathed in time with his thrusts. She began to moan, her head went back and she cried out "Oh, God! Ezra, Darling. Harder, please!"

He thrust harder and she moaned louder with every thrust.

"Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh! ..." she held her breath. Then she came. She squirmed and shook, flushing hot with the ecstasy.

"Oh God! Darling," he said, "You're perfect. I love you!"

He carried on thrusting, speeding up a little. She rose toward another peak.

He put his mouth on a tit and licked around her big hard nipple before sucking it between his tongue and top teeth.

She gasped. He sucked the whole areole into his mouth with gentle pressure.

She loved it. She wanted to dig her nails in his back but she found her arms restrained. She'd forgotten the ropes. It was enough to send her to that special place where she gave up control and surrendered completely.

Restraints made her orgasms stronger but now wasn't about her orgasms, delicious though they were, It wasn't even really about sex. It was about intimacy and togetherness and belonging to him. She wanted to cum for him because he loved making her cum so much.

She breathed heavily and bucked her hips. He held the nipple in his teeth and rubbed his tongue sideways on it. Her pussy spasmed again. She cried out from love and ecstasy.

It was the final lap for Ezra. He pushed himself up, getting a steeper angle of penetration, hitting Kalyndra's wonder-spot firmly each thrust. Her note changed, high-pitched and louder. She was rising to another peak.

He rammed her a final few times. She erupted once more and, in the middle of her mind-numbing convulsions, he gripped her tits and reached his own peak, spurting his sackful into her pussy as it quivered and pulsated.

He thrust through the ebbing tide of his tension and then lay heavily on her, kissing again. It was these moments she relished, taking his weight and being held tightly while she descended from her peak. They lay there, calming down, and kissing.

Devon untied Kalyndra's wrists and lay against her as Ezra rolled off.

"Feel better, Darling?" she asked.

"Oh, God!" Kalyndra said. "Like I can't explain."

"Good for you" her bedmate said, kissing her goodnight, feeling the heat radiate of her bedmates naked body.

Devon was not the slightest bit jealous that Kalyndra turned to Ezra for that kind of sexual comfort. After all, he had been her lover first and they had a special relationship, taking each other to places no one else took them. Yet there was something to think about in all this as she settled down to sleep.

They slept soundly and it was Kalyndra who work first, just after dawn, completely recovered. She woke Devon by getting up.

"Wake him nicely," she whispered, "but don't wear him out. I think it's going to be a busy day."

With that, Kalyndra left Devon to make good use of Ezra's morning erection and walked naked down to the sea for a wash.

The freezing night-rain left a thin layer of brackish cold water on the ocean. Kalyndra waded out a distance and then dived in, swimming fast to get to deeper water. There she took a good breath and submerged, swimming in the warmer salt-water until, five minutes later, she broke the cold surface again, gasping for air.

Yes, she was fine. Kalyndra walked back to the beach and joined the women preparing breakfast.

4 Rescuing the escape pod

It was still early morning. The raft was in place and the girls ready at their pumps. The diving team took to the water and the command given to "Girl the pumps."

In the ship, Ezra, Kalyndra and Devon, armed with a hammer, a wrench and gas-pliers from his toolkit, tackled the first job, which was to release the starboard pod to make room to open the escape hatch above it.

It was hard work, by-passing the electronic mechanism to do it by hand, but they finally managed to detach the escape pod from its pins and let it roll down and lean against the port escape pod (Yumi's pod), blocking the gangway.

The next stage was a logistical nightmare.

The hatch was secured with six levers. There was a four-foot hole behind the pod but only an eight-inch gap to get through into it. Ezra got his arm into the gap but could reach only four of the levers. Both Devon and Kalyndra got further in and reached the fifth lever; but only Thalassa was thin enough (with some juggling of the pod) to get all the way in and reach the sixth lever.

Sod's law said the sixth lever would be the stiffest: Thalassa wasn't strong enough to undo it.

They pushed the pod back in so Ezra could swim to the hold to find a length of metal to use as a lever to move the smaller lever. He returned with a steel tube from a vehicle and, with Thalassa inside the gap guiding them, Kalyndra and Devon gave the recalcitrant lever a good shove. The hatch at last sprang open and fell away, sliding down the side of the hull to the sea-floor, clanging as it went, making the whole ship ring with the sound.

They pushed the escape pod out of the hatch and let it float to the surface. Then they had to release Yumi's pod and do the same.

It came out easily, they were pleased to find, maybe because they were now practised; or maybe because they had more room to work.

Yumi's pod floated gently up toward the port side of the ship and, with a gentle nudge, was lined up with the hatch. It slipped straight through and soon two pods were bobbing about on the ocean under a bright sun.

The divers followed the pods through the hatch and swam after them, pushing them toward the shallow water and the beach. When they reached the shallows, the pods could be rolled. Ezra assured them that rolling Yumi's pod wouldn't harm her: she was strapped into a seat, held securely with a harness.

Leaving the pods on the beach, the divers finished their work by releasing the raft from its moorings. Just as they did so, Ezra swam off back toward the ship.

"Where are you going?" Kalyndra shouted after him.

He stopped swimming to shout back "I've remembered something," then he dived down to the ship.

Kalyndra grabbed some airbags and dived in after him.

After filling the airbags at the surface, Kalyndra was buoyant and had to swim hard to get down to the ship.

When she got there, Ezra had already filled his lungs from the pocket of air in the bridge and swum through the ship to the hold. She found him turning off the big torch and leaving it behind the door.

He gratefully accepted an airbag from her. He had something in his hand, a wooden box, rectangular, about ten inches long. He was grinning triumphantly and held it with exaggerated care, as if it were a baby.




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 14



Author's note:

Thanks for your patience. It's been difficult to find the time to work on this story; and this chapter is the longest so far.

Chapter 14 carries on directly from chapter 13.

***

1The Cloner Fair

Two riders appeared at the crest of the hill overlooking the Cloner Fair.

It was a colourful scene. Rows of tents lined up across a large field, flying red, blue, green, brown, white and gold banners from their top-poles. These were the colours of the six tribes of Samothea.

Next to the tents was a market-place. Two lines of wooden stalls with striped sunshades surrounded an open square, with cooking stoves at one end and a large tent-roof at the other end, sheltering a dozen upholstered chairs from the strong morning sun. Women milled in and out of the stalls, handling the goods and haggling over prices. Other women cooked lunch, gossiping as they stirred their pots.

Beyond the market-place was the Cloner City: about thirty cubes grouped around a tall central building with a green roof. White plasto-concrete shimmered in the mid-day sun, giving the city the appearance of a mirage. A wide shallow river kissed the north edge of the settlement, sparkling silver as it flowed lazily to the delta, a mile to the west.

Just as some women at the fair noticed the riders, Megan's horse whinnied and stood rampant, kicking her front legs in the air.

"Show off," Ezra said.

"You know it," she replied, then she urged her horse on and they trotted down the hill toward the fairground.

Mirselene, Calliope and Solange were sitting together in a tent with its sides raised to invite in the mid-day breeze, enjoying a friendly bickering. Someone alerted them to the riders and they came out to look.

"It's Ezra and Megan," Solange said after a quick glance.

Mirselene squinted myopically at the horizon. She couldn't even see the horses, let alone recognise the faces of their riders.

By the time Megan and Ezra reached the tents, many women and children crowded their path, eager to see the new arrivals, who dismounted and walked the last fifty yards. Ezra fondly greeted everyone he knew (Megan reminded him to compliment the short haircuts of his friends - which, being a man, he wouldn't have noticed) and he gave a polite "Good morning" to all the others. The bold ones stared. The silly ones giggled.

When they reached the three chiefs, the women had formed a circle around them. Taking charge both by natural habit and the fond forbearance of the other chiefs, Mirselene pushed her way through the throng.

"What is it, Ezra?" she asked.

"Can we talk privately?"

"Of course. Come into the tent."

Solange's bedmate, Ash, helped Megan unload the horses and stow their panniers in one of the Herder tents. They led the horses around the edge of the camping-ground to the paddock, with its row of wooden troughs and shelters for the horses. On the way back they passed the children's play area, furnished with a climbing frame, a sand-pit and a maypole with brightly-coloured ribbons.

Megan had many friends at the Cloner Fair, who stopped her for a chat and slowed her progress back to the tent, where Ezra had followed the three chiefs. The tent had wooden benches with cushions, courtesy of the Cloners. Solange sat down next to Ezra and rubbed up close, putting her hand on his knee.

"Really, Solange," Mirselene said. "Is this the time?"

Solange graced the Woodlander chief with a shameless smile but thereafter sat nicely, knees together, hands folded chastely on her lap.

"Go ahead, Ezra," Mirselene said. "How's the salvage going?"

"It's been successful," he replied, "but we've met a problem. There was someone aboard the ship."

"Whom?"

"A woman. Her name is Yumi. She stowed away in one of the emergency escape pods."

"She's alive?"

"In suspended animation."

Calliope looked up.

"Which is what?" Mirselene asked.

"A medically-induced form of hibernation. Yumi is alive but it's like she's asleep and aging very slowly."

"Interesting," commented Calliope. "Tell me more."

"No time for that," Mirselene commanded. "Continue, Ezra, it must be something important to make you and Megan ride all the way here."

"There are some problems. On-board ship, the pod was using up its power, so we brought it ashore to charge up in the sun. It's keeping Yumi alive but I think it's best to revive her as quickly as possible."

"Will that be difficult?"

"The escape pod has the medical ability to revive her but things sometimes go wrong, so it's normally advised to perform the procedure in a hospital."

"We have no such thing," Solange said.

"What can go wrong?" Calliope asked.

"Heart-attack, stroke; any kind of organ-failure is possible. Yumi will be very weak."

"So what do you suggest?" This was Mirselene again,

"I want to look through the Cloner City, to see the medical equipment they have. Maybe some of it still works. After all, my laser pen works and I found working torches on my ship."

"Yes, why is that?" Calliope asked.

"Don't deflect us, Sister," Mirselene interrupted.

"Actually, Mirselene, I'd like to answer Calliope's question. The reason I think my laser pen and the torches work is that they are very simple technology. Simple and robust. Such devices withstood the cosmic rays that damaged my more delicate engines and guidance system."

"And the emergency escape pod?" Calliope asked. "How did that keep working?"

"The pod is designed to be very robust and works by bio-mechanics and molecular nano-technology."

"Whatever they are," Mirselene said, a little impatiently.

"The point," Ezra explained, "is that the pod has little electrical circuitry, which may have been fried by radiation from the star Sothis. Also, the radiation one-hundred years ago would have been much more intense than now. It may be that some of the old-Earth technology that the Cloners have collected so avidly could work again. It's worth looking into."

The chiefs pondered this, then Mirselene pointed out something obvious.

"The Cloners don't do favours and they keep their Earthside technology to themselves. What can we give the Cloners to persuade them to help us?"

"They can have the escape pods," Ezra suggested. "Yumi's one won't be much use after she's been revived but the other one probably works. Also ..."

"Yes?"

"... they can have Yumi."

"What do you mean? She's not yours to give away."

"What I mean is that Yumi will fit in well with the Cloners. She's an engineer and a scientist. If anyone can get old-Earth tech working again, she can. Also, I think she'll appreciate the more comfortable kind of life the Cloners lead. You've often mentioned their luxuries."

Mirselene instinctively bristled. As the chief of the smallest independent tribe, she took for granted that any spare people would join the Woodlanders. Despite her tribe acquiring five new members in the last year (that is, Wildchild, Tamar, Eliose, Adarna and Freya), with three more on the way, plus a third-share of Ezra, yet it offended her swollen pride that Yumi should join the richest and biggest tribe, even if living with them would suit her better.

Mirselene began to protest but failed to get any words out before Solange, who read her mind faultlessly, deliberately interrupted:

"Will it be easy to get the escape pod here, Ezra? What will it do to Yumi?"

"The pod can roll or be dragged on a sled, even carried on a raft. I don't know what it will do to Yumi but it must be best not to move the pod again, if possible. There's no point in bringing it here if the Cloners have no better medical knowledge than Calliope or Parvinder."

"They have the medical text-book, of course," Calliope mused, "but I'm not sure they are better doctors than us."

There was a pause as this opinion was digested; then Solange again showed her instinctive ability to read minds.

"What aren't you telling us, Ezra?"

"Something important, Solange. ... I think Yumi is pregnant."

There was a general exclamation.

"Good lord!" said Mirselene.

"Good heavens!" said Calliope.

"Fuck me!" said Solange, adding: "Is it yours?"

"No," he said with clear conviction.

Solange smiled widely in evident disbelief.

"Immaterial at the moment, Sister," Mirselene ruled. "How many months pregnant is she, Ezra?"

"I don't know. She isn't showing a bump yet. The only reason I know she's pregnant is that the vital signs indictor on the pod reports two heart-beats, one very slow, the other a little quicker. I'm guessing she's less than three months."

"And is the child growing while she's in the pod?"

"Yes, but much more slowly than normal. Yumi won't give birth if she's still in suspended animation; but it's another reason to revive her as quickly as possible."

There was enough information now for the chiefs to have a meaty argument. They fell to discussing the problem while Ezra sat back and didn't interfere. The argument hadn't got far, however, before a messenger from the Cloner Chief scratched at the door post.

A pretty blonde teenager came into the tent.

"Madam Gloria sends her greetings," she announced, "and offers Ezra Goldrick the hospitality of the Cloner Tribe. Would you all care to take tea in the meeting tent?"

"Thank you, Hazel," Mirselene answered. "We will attend Gloria in a quarter-hour."

"Very good, Madam."

The girl curtsied and left.

Ezra waited patiently while the three chiefs quickly finished their argument and then made themselves ready to bring him to meet the Cloner Chief.

The meeting tent was on one side of the market square and was covered by a green tarpaulin. Loose swathes of thin red and yellow cloth hung in loops a quarter-way down each side, swaying in the cool wind that breezed down the valley from the mountains. It was the breeze that made the climate of the Cloner City the best in the tropical zone of Samothea.

As they walked through the busy stalls to the tent, Solange explained how the Cloner tribe was governed:

"Gloria is their chief, elected about six months ago for five years. They call her 'Madam Gloria'. She's head of the Cloner Council, which has five members. The other four officers are heads of the disciplines essential - so they say - to the life of Samothea. They are: Madam Medic, Madam Scientist, Madam Lawspeaker and Madam Recorder."

Ezra was amused by their titles and wondered what Madam Recorder did.

"Madam Recorder is the historian of the Cloners and all Samothea. She remembers everyone's name and ancestry, all the way back to the Founders."

There were only three council members present when they reached the meeting tent, sitting at one end of a semi-circle of well-made wicker chairs with plump cushions. They rose to greet the three chiefs and the stranger from Earth.

"Welcome to the Cloner Fair, Ezra Goldrick," the chief said. "I'm Gloria."

"Pleased to meet you, Madam. You've put on a fine fair."

She bowed to acknowledge the compliment.

"These are my colleagues: Madam Recorder and Madam Lawspeaker."

"How do you do, Ladies?" Ezra said, politely bowing his head to them.

They greeted him with nods.

As the hosts and visitors took their seats, the pretty messenger and another girl of the same age brought tea in a genuine china pot with genuine china cups. They set up a small portable table and poured the tea. After handing out the cups, they curtsied and withdrew to a corner of the tent, standing quietly and alert.

Ezra barely noticed the tea-cup in his hand. His attention was focussed on the Cloner chief. Aged thirty, Gloria was plain but with large intelligent brown eyes, dark-brown hair impatiently pinned out of the way behind her ears, thick glasses with wooden frames, beautiful clothes she cared nothing about and a deceptively mild and approachable manner.

She looked at the world with serious concentration and anything caught in her gaze seemed to become more real. Ezra felt it. Her intelligence was palpable and drew him in.

The sexual appeal of brains can never be over-estimated. Everyone saw the instant attraction Gloria had for him; even Mirselene, who looked wary. Calliope was neutral: she thought it was a complication, not a danger. Solange smiled her indulgent uncomplaining smile; but Madam Lawspeaker was frowning with profound displeasure.

"I'm pleased finally to meet you, Ezra Goldrick of the Three Tribes," Gloria said. "Why did you take so long before coming to visit us Cloners?"

"I've been busy, Madam."

Gloria blew on her tea and took a sip.

"I know," she said. "Congratulations on the birth of your daughter. I'm told mother and child are doing well."

"Thank you, Madam. They are."

"She's not your first child, I assume?"

"Actually, Freya is my first."

"But you left her behind to come here?"

"It was a difficult thing to do, Madam, but necessary. Annela understood."

"How was it necessary?"

"I'd like to ask a favour of the Cloners."

"I'm listening."

"I'd like to look through your famous store of old-Earth technology, especially your medical technology."

"Is that all?"

"Yes."

"Well, I'm happy to show you around. Shall we go when you've finished your tea?"

Ezra was startled. He almost dropped the tea-cup. He'd expected Gloria to say No and was prepared to bargain.

"Yes, of course," he said. "Thank you."

He hadn't touched his tea. He quickly put the cup to his lips and began sipping.

"Gloria," the Lawspeaker spoke in warning tones. She had a low-pitched slightly rasping voice. "Aren't you curious to know why Ezra Goldrick wants to see our technology store and medical equipment?"

"I'm sure he has a good reason," Gloria said, unconcerned. "Or do you fear he might learn our secrets?"

"Of course not, we have no secrets; yet I would like to know his purpose."

"You're free to ask him when we return, Madam," she said, getting up. "Are you ready, Ezra Goldrick of the Three Tribes?"

He quickly downed his tea and bent over to put the cup on the ground when he found it being collected by one of the girls who had served the drinks, kneeling daintily beside him. He gave her the cup with thanks and got up to follow Gloria. The Cloner women also rose as their chief did.

"No, sit down," she said, "finish your tea."

Under the surprised gaze of Mirselene and Calliope (though not Solange, who was never fazed by anything), Gloria led Ezra out of the tent, through the market and across the wide field to the Cloner City.

As they walked, a crowd of women and girls followed them through the fair at a respectful distance, keen to see anything new and exciting. The women nattered among themselves and the hubbub made Ezra turn around.

"Don't turn," Gloria warned, "you'll just encourage them," and she picked up the pace a little.

Behind them the hubbub gradually died down until only one voice was clear, the slightly rasping tones of the Lawspeaker, demanding Gloria and Ezra be left alone and the women go about their proper business.

Soon there was no train following them. They were alone as they crossed the boundary of the City.

2The Cloner City

The word 'City' was a magnificent exaggeration for the settlement of small pre-fabricated houses plonked haphazardly on the flat grassy floor of a well-watered and comfortable valley. The houses were separate units surrounded by gardens adorned with fruit bushes. Every house had wooden shutters protecting its west-facing windows. Palms lined the wider paths and stood sentry at the city borders.

A wide avenue criss-crossed by muddy footpaths led to the central hall, the only two-storey building.

As they walked, Ezra addressed his hostess:

"Madam Gloria, I'm happy to tell you why I want to see your medical equipment."

"No need," she assured him. "Save it until you meet the whole council. Whatever your reason is, we will benefit if you can make any of our old-Earth technology work. That's what I'm mainly interested in."

"Besides," she continued, after a pause, "the Lawspeaker is an old fusspot who likes the sound of her own voice. I enjoyed cutting her off. I rarely get the chance."

She added: "I don't think she likes you."

"I didn't notice."

"Trust me. However, Madam Recorder likes you. Did you see her eyes twinkling?"

"I really didn't notice anything."

"Am I being indiscreet?" she asked.

"Wonderfully."

"Good. Can you tell me why?"

"Girlish mayhem?"

She laughed.

"I knew you'd understand," she said. "How do you know about girlish mayhem?"

"I have a younger sister. She went through a stage when all she wanted to do was break things."

Gloria laughed again.

"That's exactly the feeling! I never went through the breaking things stage. I was too well-behaved and studious. So my mayhem leaks out every once in a while at council meetings. ... Have you no questions for me?"

"Only one for now. Why do you have servants?"

"Servants? Oh, you mean the 'Juniors'. I suppose they are like servants, though it's only a temporary appointment and more like a rite of passage."

"When our girls reach eighteen, regardless of what work they studied for, they spend a year as a Junior. They live in a dormitory in the Hall and do various tasks, mostly menial, such as cleaning the Council Chamber, making the councillors' beds, waiting on us at meal-times and running messages. Some of the councillors get the girls to wash and dress them. Mostly they just stand around getting bored waiting for orders. Sometimes, the girls are bullied. We think it's character-building."

"You don't think so?" he observed.

"I suppose doing menial work is a good lesson, though I hated washing Aunt Dolly."

"Aunt Dolly?"

"Dolores Leanesdaughter Cloner - Madam Lawspeaker, you know - is my mother's sister, so I always called her Aunt Dolly. Being her Junior certainly formed my character: I've never asked the Juniors to wash or dress me - and I try to keep a lid on the bullying."

She was disarmingly open, just as Solange had been when he first met her. Yet it seemed certain to him that she was playing a deep game, just as he suspected of Solange. He admired her none the less.

"I'm surprised you've allowed the institution to survive," he observed.

"You live with the Woodlanders and you're surprised about the power of custom?"

It seemed to him that Gloria knew everything that happened on Samothea,

"You're right. ... So why are Juniors bullied at all?"

"Well, doubtless, some councillors remember being bullied themselves and think it does the girls good; or maybe they think it's their turn now. ... Or perhaps the Juniors make too much of a few minor upsets. After all, they are teenage girls," she added nonchalantly. "At that age, everything's a matter of life and death. ... Here we are."

They'd reached the large central building, which she called the Hall. It was made of the same cubic units as the houses but they were double-high and set in a rectangle three cubes wide and five cubes deep. The area inside the rectangle was roofed over by a half-cylinder of translucent green metallo-plastic.

"I'll show you the Council Chamber first, then the classrooms, our scriptorium and the maternity room, where most of the medical equipment is. Next door is the cloning lab. I can't let you in because of the risk of contamination, but I can describe everything it has. We'll finish in the technology store. Is that all right?"

"It's more than I hoped for."

"Follow me. This is the Council Chamber."

She led him into a hall about thirty feet across and ninety feet long, with a high ceiling and plain concrete walls. A large table stood at one end with a set of throne-like chairs. There were doorways at each corner and in the middle on both sides.

"This is where we have our council meetings, public announcements and law-court. The hall is also used for exercise, for lessons, for dancing, communal dinners and a place to come when it's wet."




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 14



There was a row of clay oil-lamps on wooden stands along each wall. Steeples of black smoke stained the concrete walls above them. There were smaller oil-lamps on the table.

"We have a kitchen at this end and a crapper at the far end."

She led him out through a side-door and across a narrow corridor into a room with a tall lectern at one end and rows of desks facing it.

"This is the main classroom and scriptorium."

"What's a scriptorium?"

"A room for writing books. Take a look."

On the lectern was a large leather-covered book with vellum sheets, opened in the middle. On the desks were four similar volumes. The text was a list of names, titles and properties. The students were making copies. Many other leather-covered books were lined up on the shelves and stacked on tables in the corners.

"What is it?"

"We call it the Family Name Book. It's what Madam Recorder has memorized."

Gloria ran her hand along the spines of the books on the shelf, talking as she walked.

"After the catastrophe," she said, "we wrote down everything we could remember. All the history, all the science, all the mathematics, all our laws; even stories and poems. That's what our education has become: learning the content of these books and copying them."

"Why do you make so many copies?"

"A set of each volume is intended for every tribe."

"I see," he said. "So why didn't they get them?"

"Much labour goes into making these books, into preparing the vellum and the leather. Hours are spent dictating and writing each page. They are very expensive items and, as you can see, we decided to keep them to ourselves and let the other tribes study them as they wish."

She sounded defiant rather than apologetic.

He was going to make a sarcastic comment about the kindness of the Cloners sharing the legacy of Samothea with the other tribes; but something in her manner prevented him. It seemed amazing to him that this was a woman he'd known barely half-an-hour, yet he thought he understood her. He thought she couldn't really mean what she said, that the Cloners couldn't be so apparently greedy.

There was something she was almost telling him but not quite. He couldn't condemn her until he knew, so he remained silent.

"Come on upstairs to the Junior dormitory and the bedrooms," she said.

There were concrete stairs in the corridors each side of the hall. They led up to another corridor with windows so people could see what was going on thirty feet below.

The Junior dormitory was a long room with six good-sized beds and the kind of mess one would expect from teenage girls. Except for the bed nearest the door, which was empty, there was no clue here for Ezra to tell how many Juniors there were.

Next was the bathroom. It had a large shower area but no actual showers. The pumps no longer worked so the Juniors fetched buckets of water from the rain-water buts on the roof (warmed in the sun by mid-day) or from one of the nearby canals into which the river was partly diverted to feed the city with fresh water and to take effluent away to the sea. Behind a partition were the crappers.

There were bedrooms on the front of the building and down one side. They were fitted out quite well but not lavish, so far as Ezra could tell from glancing through the open doors.

Last was the west side of the hall, looking toward the ocean.

"This is where I live," Gloria said. "Come in and have a look."

It was a spacious apartment with three rooms. The living room had a bookcase and small tasteful carvings on shelves. Comfortable seats were set around a low table. The next room had a large bed and a wardrobe bulging with clothes. The third room was a balcony, open to the elements, with strong wooden shutters to defend the bedroom windows against fierce easterly winds and freezing night rain.

The balcony had water-proof furniture and a tarpaulin roof to protect against the oppressive sun.

Ezra had never seen so comfortable a living-space on Samothea and few quite so well situated even on Earth. The view was magnificent. Westward, beyond the straggling outliers of the city, the silver river snaked through the muddy delta to the shining blue sea. Leaning over the balcony, one could see the shore stretch in a long crescent southward, with spots of golden sand-dunes standing out proudly.

The north also showed coast: a rockier, wilder shore that blended with the sea and the grassy plain on the misted horizon. To the north-east were the White Mountains, their peaks obscured by clouds, where the three girls had ventured to find the lost Miner tribe.

"What do you think?" Gloria asked.

"It's beautiful," Ezra said. "And now I know why there are no sea-birds."

"Why?"

"Guano."

"What?"

"Bird, er, droppings."

"You can say 'shit'. I know the word."

"Well, I guess the Founders planned to live by the sea and knew that, on Earth, their city would be covered in bird-shit. There'd be squawking gulls fighting and splattering everywhere; and those mud-flats would be covered in noisy smelly geese."

She laughed. "There are many reasons to be grateful to the wisdom of the Founders, as you will see later. ... Are you ready to visit the technology store?"

He was, so she led him downstairs to the south-east corner of the hall and stopped in front of a double door.

All the while Gloria had shown him around the Cloner City, he'd taken surreptitious glances at her face, captivated by her big eyes. This time she met his gaze, clearly understanding his inner motive. Smiling back at him, she knocked on the door.

The small head of a small middle-aged blonde woman eventually popped out.

"Oh, hello, Gloria. What's up?"

"Sally, this is Ezra Goldrick of the Three Tribes. He's come all the way from Earth to see our technology store. ... Ezra, allow me to introduce Madam Scientist, Sarah Wandasdaughter Cloner."

Sally did a double take when she saw Ezra behind Gloria but she recovered quickly.

"How do you do, Madam Scientist?" he said.

"I do very well, thanks, Ezra Goldrick of the Three Tribes. Call me Sally and come on in."

The door opened into a room the length of four cubes. It was filled with bits of old technology laid out on the floor or stacked on shelves against the walls. Everything was labelled and there was a large leather-bound inventory book open on a wooden bench just inside the door, at which Madam Scientist had been working.

A girl halfway down the corridor bent over a pile of oddments with a small strip of wood-bark as a sheet of paper and a stick of charcoal to make notes.

"We have the big stuff outside, under tarpaulins," Madam Scientist said. "When you're done in here, just go through the door at the far end and you'll see it right ahead of you. Just promise you'll keep to our rule?"

"Of course, Sally. What is it?"

"If you move anything, either put it back or let Crystal or me know where you put it. Keeping inventory is the very devil! ... That's Crystal." She indicated the girl bending over the box of parts. "She's an apprentice who thinks I'll give her a better report just because she's staying here to help me, rather than running off to have fun at the Fair, as she damn well ought!"

Crystal smiled and looked up. She stared at Ezra for a minute before she blushed and looked down again at her work.

"What are you looking for, Ezra Goldrick?" Madam Scientist asked.

"I'm interested in medical equipment but I'm willing to try to get any piece of technology working for you, if I can. ... What exactly are you doing with all this, er, stuff?"

At first glance, Ezra saw a badly-arranged pile of junk. After closer examination, he saw a neatly-arranged museum of junk.

"We're recording it and trying to fit pieces together. If we can take something apart and guess how it works, we write it down. Someday, something may work again. Maybe we can make one good thing out of two or more broken things. ... In fact, you can help. We don't know what everything is. If you see anything marked as 'unknown', then please let us know what it's supposed to do."

Ezra began to look around and quickly found something promising: a laser pen-knife much like his own.

"Do you know how this works?" he asked.

"What's the inventory number?" Madam Scientist asked from down the room.

"A015/G032."

She looked it up in the inventory book.

"Aha! It's a laser-pen-knife. Apparently, it has a solar collector in the handle and a laser blade comes out of the nib. The last time anyone tried to charge it up or use it was, erm, eighteen years ago, give or take."

"Your records are remarkably thorough," Ezra said, somewhat impressed. "May I try it?"

"Of course."

All three women came to look. He pulled out the umbrella and held it in the strong afternoon sun by a window for a few minutes, then he tried the buttons. Nothing happened.

Crystal gasped and the two older women looked closely as he took out his own pen-knife and detached the fuel cell, swapping it with the fuel cell from the dead knife. Neither knife now worked.

"It's the circuitry inside, I'm afraid," he said, putting his own knife back together and handing the broken one to Crystal. "I really thought this would work, because it's such simple technology. It's a bad omen for the other technology."

"Would you know how to repair it?" the Scientist asked.

"Sorry, not a clue."

"That's all right. Will you show us how your own pen-knife works?"

After he'd spent ten minutes demonstrating his laser-knife, letting them touch it and promising to come back to perform all the tasks they now had for him and his laser-blade, Ezra spent half-an-hour helping Crystal identify some of the 'unknown' items, giving his best guesses for what they might be. Then he went outside.

Outside were a hover-plane with detached engines, a jeep with no wheels and broken windows, two tractors, a digger with decayed tyres, mixing machines, drilling machines and a sort of crane mechanism that must have been used to build the houses; all of it falling apart or seized up.

It saddened Ezra to think of the effort the Founders made to drag all this junk here and protect it with valuable tarpaulins.

Back inside the technology store, they could see from his disappointed face what he thought of the exhibits. With some last few words with Sally, Gloria showed him to the medical room, where it was the same story.

Various electronic machines were left in place since the days of the Founders but none worked; neither x-ray machines, ultrasound viewers, robotic microwave surgery tools or anything in what once was a very well-equipped clinic.

There were hypodermic syringes, scalpels and clamps; but nothing to look inside a living body to say where the work needed to be done. It was extremely disappointing.

Gloria was sympathetic but not very encouraging.

"I'm sorry you haven't found what you were hoping for, Ezra Goldrick, but we can only record and preserve the technology, we cannot mend it."

"I understand. Thank you, Madam, for showing me everything I needed to see. I'll go and report back to the chiefs."

"No need. I sent Crystal to fetch everyone to the Council Chamber. They should be there now. Shall we go and join them?"

3The Council

Four councillors and three chiefs were waiting in the Council Chamber, sitting on the throne-like seats at the big table. They stood when Gloria entered the hall.

The only member of the council Ezra hadn't yet met was Madam Medic, an old lady, frail-looking, with white hair and a kindly smile. She'd been talking to Calliope, who introduced Ezra to her. Now eight of the most senior women of Samothea were gathered together for an unscheduled meeting with their guest from Earth.

It was clear where the councillors would sit. The seat of honour in the middle of the table was reserved for Gloria. Her councillors sat either side. Richly embroidered cloaks hung over the backs of their chairs, one for each councillor. There was now a pitcher of water on the table and a bowl of fruit. The three chiefs stood behind the chairs opposite the councillors, waiting for Gloria to sit down, who remained standing, however.

"Well, Ezra Goldrick of the Three Tribes," she said, "I've shown you what you asked to see. Are you satisfied or do you have any further questions for us?"

"Thank you, Madam," he replied, "I've many questions but first may I speak to the three chiefs alone?"

"Of course," Gloria said. "I have something for the councillors to do. ... Ladies, come with me to the scriptorium, please."

As they left, there were voices outside the chamber and the pretty blonde Junior came in.

"Yes, Hazel?" Gloria said. "What is it?"

"It's Megan Herder, Madam ..."

"Megan Dierdresdaughter Herder," Madam Recorder muttered to herself automatically.

"... she wants to know where she and Ezra are sleeping tonight."

"Really, Solange!" Mirselene exclaimed. "Do you Herders think of nothing except sex?"

"Sure we do, Mirselene," Solange answered happily. "Occasionally we think about food. ... Gloria, will you put Ezra and Megan up here tonight? I'm sure you've got room."

Gloria nodded.

"Hazel, please make up a bed in the Junior dormitory for Megan and put Ezra in one of the spare rooms. Afterward, will you ask the cooks at the Fair to send us some food? We'll be having an early dinner. We won't need the Juniors again until dinner time, so you can amuse yourselves for an hour or two."

With that, Gloria led the councillors to the scriptorium and Hazel helped Megan lug her and Ezra's packs up the stairs to the Junior dormitory.

When Ezra was alone with the three chiefs, they waited expectantly for him to speak but he stood in silence, gripping the back of one of the councillors' thrones with whitened knuckles.

"Well, Ezra," Mirselene prompted. "What do you have to say?"

He remained silent, looking down.

"What is it? Are you disappointed?"

He looked up. It was Calliope's turn to be perceptive.

"He's not disappointed. He's angry."

"Why so he is," agreed Solange, going close to examine his face. "I have to admire Gloria. It took me a month of goading and teasing to get you this riled up but she managed it in only a few hours."

She turned back to the others.

"He's beautiful when he's angry, isn't he?"

"Stop needling him, Solange, and let him speak," Mirselene ordered. "Come on Ezra, we're your friends. What have the Cloners done? Why are you so angry with them?"

"I'm not angry with the Cloners. Not really. They showed me everything I wanted to see and kept nothing from me."

"So what is it?"

"Do you know what an anticlimax is?"

"Of course."

"Well, this is the biggest bloody anticlimax of my life! ... I was geared up for a fight over the precious old-Earth technology but what do I find?"

"What?"

"Nothing!" he shouted. "There's nothing here. You told me about the wicked Cloners: how they were proud, arrogant, greedy, rapacious?"

"We did," Mirselene said.

"I didn't," Solange said.

"No, Solange," he admitted, "you only said the Cloners wanted to kidnap me and keep me a prisoner."

She smiled at the memory.

"Go on Ezra," Mirselene said, "tell us how we misinformed you."

"I expected there to be Amazons with spears guarding the technology store and triple locks on the door of the cloning lab. I expected the Cloners to be menacing and territorial, secretive and cunning. ... They're nothing like that! They're just a bunch of women without a clue what they're doing or what they've got hold of. You know their much-vaunted collection of Earth-side technology, wheedled out of you and miserly protected?"

"What of it?"

"It's scrap. The whole lot of it. Nothing works or likely ever will work. Their medical kit is the same. Just rubbish. There's nothing here and no excuse for all their superiority and luxury. You know, they cover all that junk with tarpaulins, while our tribes use banana leafs to roof our huts!"

"Is that why you're angry?"

"No. I'm frustrated at the whole situation, especially at my own impotence. ..." There was almost despair in his voice. "Mirselene, there's nothing here to help Yumi ... and there's bugger all I can do if anything goes wrong!"

He sat down and was silent. The chiefs also sat.

"Yumi is key to so much that could be done here, to make human life sustainable ... ." he trailed off.

"We understand, Ezra," Mirselene assured him. "What can we do?"

"Nothing. Sorry. I'll calm down in a while. Please excuse my swearing."

They waited patiently, though Solange was disappointed at letting Ezra's anger waste away.

Calliope took the pitcher of water and poured him a cup. He drank it slowly and calmed down.

"Feeling better?" she asked.

"Not really. I feel cheated - and stupid."

"Why stupid?"

"Because I expected the Cloners to have secrets, so I kept secrets myself. You know, I didn't tell Megan and the others that Yumi was pregnant. Why not? Who cares? It shouldn't be a damn secret. Does anyone here object if I tell the Cloners everything about the salvage?"

There was no dissent.

"You've been here a few hours and seen the city but you weren't angry before," Solange probed, perceptive as usual. "In fact, you and Gloria seemed to be getting on famously. So what just set you off?"

He just looked down, frowning.

"Come on, Ezra, tell us." This was Mirselene, in the soothing tones she used on children.

"Better: I'll show you," he said, getting up.

He dragged a throne-like chair from the Council's side of the table around to the side the chiefs sat and lined it up with one of their chairs, back-to-back.

"See?"

They saw all right. Though the backs of the chairs were the same height, the seat of the councillor's chair was three inches higher than the chief's seat.

"It's a trick to make the councillors seem taller so they can look down on you. This is for show, so a bunch of women can play-act, just like men!"

"What do you mean 'just like men'?" Solange asked.

"All this dressing up and the pompous titles, 'Madam Recorder' and 'Madam Lawspeaker'. Men do that, not women. On Earth, there are societies where men wear grand costumes and address each other as 'Worshipful Brother' or 'Honourable Master' but it's all mere posturing. They pretend to hold arcane knowledge. In reality, they have a big dinner and collect money for charity. Women's lodges also do charity work, only without the pointless ceremony and dressing up. Women are more practical."

"But here, in the Cloner City," he went on, "the councillors have big titles, thrones and sumptuous cloaks. I'm surprised they don't have head-pieces as well. This nonsense must have been designed by men; so why are women perpetuating it? What's it all for? They don't have anything here: no secret power; nothing to justify all this pageantry."

"Don't the Cloners have one secret?" Mirselene asked. "They kept the cloning lab closed to you."

"Yes, but I know why. That is, I think I know how the cloning kits work. We'll find out later if I'm right or wrong. But even so, it's not such an important secret that they need to protect it."

He sat down again and no longer fumed, though his mood was not yet tranquil. The chiefs conferred for a minute, then Calliope went to fetch back the councillors.

The councillors returned carrying three large leather books, which they set on the table. Gloria took her place and soon everyone was seated at the table. The chiefs smiled at each other when they saw how tall even the diminutive Madam Scientist seemed.

"Well, Ezra," Gloria said. "It's time for questions. Yours and ours. Would you like to go first?"

"Yes, I would. Thanks. ... Why do you call me 'Ezra Goldrick of the Three Tribes'?"

"That's down to Calliope and me," Solange answered. "The Cloners asked your matronymic but no one knew it, so I suggested calling you 'Ezra Goldrick, Earthman'. No one else liked that, so Calliope suggested 'Ezra Goldrick of the Three Tribes', which we all liked."




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 14



"What's a 'matronymic'?" he asked.

"It's your mother's name. We use it with your tribe to identify you. I'm Solange Malkasdaughter Herder."

"Oh, then I'm Ezra Mariottason. But why do you use matronymics instead of surnames? You all have surnames, I presume, or your ancestors did."

"It's the wisdom of the Founders to keep the peace," Madam Lawspeaker explained. "The Founders knew that when small close-knit communities on Earth failed, it was always due to conflict caused either by social status, sex or property. So the Founders decided we should start with a clean slate and be judged on our talents. We shouldn't use our surnames or anything that reminded us of our family status on Earth."

"We also have strict marriage laws; and we hold land in common within the tribes. Madam Recorder remembers our surnames and what property each woman is heir to - for when such information will be relevant again."

"I see," he said. "It makes sense. So here's my second question: Why are there no pigs on Samothea?"

There was a whisper from beside Gloria: "He knows." "Shush!" said another voice.

"Good question, Ezra," Gloria replied. "Also, no goats, dogs, cats or donkeys; only one type of sheep or horse; and only two kinds of cattle. Can you guess why?"

"Well, at first, I thought it might be a dietary reason, but that seems unlikely. Then I guessed it might be cultural; but there's no religion on Samothea that I know of. So my guess is that you're using the pig cloning kits for people."

"Go on," Gloria said.

"Kalyndra told me women have only one go at conceiving a clone because you've got a limited number of cloning kits. Hence the rumour that they're running out; but I don't believe it. It's not the kits you're running out of: it's some vital component. After all, the kit is just a few swabs, a hypodermic and an applicator. There must be some active ingredient that's involved to explain why you've put up the price of cloned children consistently for the last fifteen years."

"True," Gloria admitted. "Tell us more. Tell us how the cloning kits work."

"Gloria?" the Lawspeaker warned.

"As you said, Madam, we have no secrets," Gloria said, firmly.

"All right," Ezra said. "The cloning kits work by molecular nanotechnology."

"Nanotech!" was the whisper on the other side of the table.

"I think the kits have two or three kinds of nanotechnology," he continued, "maybe in the form of a serum or crystals you can add to a fluid. You start by taking some cells from the woman. Kalyndra said you cut some skin from one of her nipples, I suppose because it's easy to get living skin from the teat of a pig."

"That sample is treated with one kind of nanotechnology which, I guess, separates out a cell and reverts it from its adult stage to an embryonic stage."

"Another process uses blood samples to test the exact place a woman is in her monthly cycle. And the third process uses the applicator to implant the cloned cell in the wall of the uterus. Am I right?"

"Madam Medic?" Gloria said.

"Mostly right, Ezra Goldrick," she said in a strong clear voice that belied her physical frailty.

"In fact, we use four types of nanotech, er, 'nano-technology'. The first kind we call the red nanotech. It reverts the cells from their differentiated states to an embryonic stage. The second type of nanotech - the purple nanotech - separates out one cell and isolates it, so we can collect it up and implant it. It makes a dark spot in the serum which you can see through a microscope and suck up in a pipette."

"The white nanotech is mixed with the blood and changes colour to indicate the best time to implant; and the green nanotech is placed in the applicator ahead of the cloned cell, to prepare the uterus for the cell."

"Why do you call the kinds of nanotech by colours?" he asked.

"Because they are the colours they're labelled in the kit."

"And am I right in guessing you're running out of nanotech?"

"No. Not exactly," Sally (Madam Scientist) said. "We're running out of the red and the green nanotech; but that's not the real problem."

"All right," Ezra said, "then I can guess what the real problem is. Most nanotech on Earth can reproduce itself, so it's either designed to be sterile or is kept under sterile conditions. That's why you couldn't let me into the cloning lab: not because I might contaminate your nanotech, but because the nanotech may get loose and contaminate everyone else."

What little opposition there had been to letting Ezra know about how the cloning kits work now dissolved. It seemed that he understood the process just as well as either Madam Medic or Madam Scientist. Gloria nodded to Sally, who continued her explanation.

"Quite right, Ezra Goldrick," she said. "We know we have to keep the nanotech away from the raw material it uses to replicate itself. One problem is that, although we know what the raw material is, we don't really understand what's going on at the chemical level. There may be lots of the raw materials all around us. If so, the nanotech would spread like a plague, so we do the replicating in a sealed room and use only the store of raw materials the Founders left us."

"And it's the original store that's running down?" Ezra suggested.

"Yes. We know the names of the minerals but we don't know how to identify them. We have enough of each kind of raw material to make enough nanotech for hundreds more kits; but, after that, cloning stops - for horses, sheep and cows as well as women."

"I can help," Ezra said confidently.

"You can?" Gloria asked.

"I'm a geologist. If you show me the chemical formula for the raw material, I can probably find a source of the elements you need, in minerals or other natural things."

Gloria signalled Madam Medic, who opened the large leather volume in front of her and flicked through the pages until she found what she wanted, saying to Ezra and the chiefs:

"This is our medical science book. It contains the instructions for the cloning lab and the details of the nanotech."

He looked over her shoulder as she turned the pages of the hand-written text until he'd read the whole section.

"I know all these elements," Ezra said. "Besides the commoner ones, like carbon, nitrogen, calcium and iron, we need iodine, magnesium, bismuth and strontium. We can get some from sea-weed or animal blood and bones. The others will come from minerals we can find the White Mountains because they are products of volcanic activity. I'm certain I can help you make new cloning kits."

He sat down feeling happier than he'd done since the discussion began. He even began to plan in his mind a trip to the White Mountains.

The three chiefs had sat silently all through this exchange. This was unusual for Mirselene, who at last had something to add, saying to Ezra:

"It's very noble of you, of course, to help the Cloners," she said, "but do you really need to? After all, we know you're potent. When you've had enough sons and daughters to sustain our numbers, we won't need cloning ever again."

"I'm sorry to contradict you, Mirselene," he said, "but we will need cloning for quite some time. My children can never mate with each other."

"It would be incest!" pointed out Madam Lawspeaker.

"You're right, of course, Madam Lawspeaker," he said, "but I was also thinking of biology. My sons should mate only with clones unrelated to them. Maybe, long in the future, distant cousins can mate; but no step-siblings. The danger's too great."

"Genetic bottleneck," Solange said, remembering her conversation with Ezra on the subject.

"That's right, Solange," Ezra confirmed. "My children must mate with strangers, not with close relatives, or further generations may have health problems and even deformities."

"You're assuming you will sire sons," Madam Medic said.

"Is there any reason to think I cannot?"

"One good reason: none of the Founders' attempts to clone men or male animals succeeded."

"Do you know why?" he wondered.

"No one knows why. We have theories but no explanation."

Ezra nodded. He didn't ask what the theories were. He had plenty to think about as it was. The table went quiet as the chiefs and Ezra digested what they'd learned. Then Calliope asked to see the medical textbook.

"Go ahead, Madam," Gloria said. "There's a copy for each of the tribes - with our apologies for being so tardy in giving them to you."

The three chiefs looked astounded. Even Solange was taken aback. Where was the arrogance of the Cloners? Where their superiority? These were different women from more recent times - kinder, more conciliatory. Had Gloria achieved this change in just six months?

"We have other books in preparation as well," Gloria continued. "We're working on the Book of Scientific Knowledge, Memories of Earth, the Story of Samothea, the Laws and Constitution of Samothea and the Family Name Book ..."

There was a stirring to Gloria's right as she pronounced the name of this last volume.

"... which Madam Lawspeaker advises should not be made public ..."

The Lawspeaker sat even more upright in her chair and prepared to make a comment.

" - for reasons she has already given us," Gloria added firmly, cutting off the interruption before it began.

"Ladies," she concluded, "I invite your opinions on the matter at the chieftains' meeting. The question is: will it disrupt the harmony of our society to publish the records of our ancestry?"

The three chiefs shared a glance but made no answer for now.

"Meanwhile, I would like to know from Ezra Goldrick of the Three Tribes precisely what problem brought him to visit us here in the Cloner City, to examine our medical equipment?"

The chiefs had already given their approval: Ezra was free to tell the story of the salvage operation and the discovery of Yumi. He took another cup of water and began to tell how he crash-landed in the sea.

4Megan joins the Juniors

While the councillors and chiefs talked, Hazel, the pretty blonde Junior, showed Megan upstairs into the Junior dormitory, where two other Juniors sat chatting comfortably on a bed.

"Girls," Hazel said, "this is Megan Herder. She's sleeping here tonight."

The Juniors got up to greet their guest.

"Hello, I'm Preeda," said a petite girl of Thai ancestry. She had a small round face and long, tightly braided, shiny black hair.

"I'm Jenna," said the other, a skinny black girl with a rich smile showing strong white teeth. Her dark eyes shone in bright friendly welcome.

The first thing Megan noticed in the Junior dormitory was how much stuff the girls had. There were six beds. The one nearest the door was empty but the others, even the one the girls had been sitting on, were covered with piles of clothes of every shape and style. Books and assorted knick-knacks essential to a young woman's happiness hogged every spare surface, and boxes with who-knew-what contents were ever-present obstacles on the floor. There was lots of furniture: chairs, dressers, a large wardrobe and a long mirror.

Clearly the girls had been trying on clothes. Megan marvelled at the wealth of the Juniors; though, as a woman whose tribe kept minimal possessions so they could move easily, she disapproved both the luxury and the clutter.

"Megan, this will be your bed," Hazel said, indicating the empty one by the door. "Would you like to rest while we do our chores?"

"I'd like to help," Megan said. "What can I do?"

"You can help me make up a room for Ezra. ... Jenna, you make Megan's bed and Preeda, will you to go to the Fair to order dinner for thirteen in two hours, please?"

Preeda was a sweet and submissive girl who normally obeyed straight away, but now she delayed, reluctant to leave.

"What is it, Preeda?" Hazel asked.

"Promise me you won't say anything interesting while I'm gone?"

"Of course not, away with you."

Now the girl rushed off to her task, running in the hope she might be back before she missed anything important.

The second thing Megan noticed, therefore, was that Hazel was the senior Junior (as it were), the one who gave the orders.

With armfuls of bedclothes, Hazel led Megan to a spare room, where they placed Ezra's pack and made him up a bed.

Back in the Junior dormitory, Jenna made Megan's bed and began to put away some of the mounds of clothes in the wardrobe. Ten minutes later, Preeda returned, breathing heavily after sprinting up the stairs. That reminded Megan.

"What did you mean about not saying anything interesting?" she asked the panting girl.

"Sex, of course," Hazel answered on Preeda's behalf, "especially sex with Ezra Goldrick of the Three Tribes."

"What do you girls know about sex?" Megan asked.

"Not much yet but we're learning," Jenna replied.

"From each other," Preeda added.

Megan smiled, thinking how lucky the girls were. Suddenly she thought of herself as a matron, with experience and knowledge to share. It was an odd idea - she was only a few years older than the Juniors - but it gave her a pleasing sense of power.

"I'll tell you what I know," she said.

The girls finished their tasks and sat down. The three Juniors sat on the bed that Jenna had just cleared and Megan sat facing them on her own bed.

She unstrapped her sandals and sat cross-legged, her arms and shoulders relaxed, preparing to tell the girls what most women at the Cloner Fair also wanted to know.

"Sex with Ezra is beautiful and exciting," she explained. "He's passionate and eager and makes me respond in ways I don't expect or didn't previously know I could."

"Is sex better with a man?" Hazel enquired.

"No."

"Ah-ha!" said Jenna.

"What do you mean, 'Ah-ha!'?" Megan asked.

"Your mouth said 'No' but your eyes said 'Yes'."

"I saw that," agreed Preeda.

"Come on, Megan," Hazel implored. "Tell us everything."

"All right, but it's hard to explain. ... Sex is better in some ways with a man but not in others. ... Ezra is hard where women are soft. ... He tends to take charge, even when he doesn't mean to. It's like he's in control because he knows what he wants more than me. ... With women, it's usually all soft touches and gentle caresses and feeling what the other woman feels, doing to her what you like having done to yourself, listening for her responses and being guided by them. ... We like to tease and delay and even when we reach a climax, it's all about reassurance and mutual pleasure."

"With Ezra, it's more like a contest. Sure, he gives me pleasure - amazing, unbelievable pleasure - but it's more like him taking what he wants from me and me giving myself to him. I find I'm responding to him, even when I'm on top and controlling everything."

"Does he have all the power," Hazel asked. "Is he rough?"

"No; yes; sort of. It's complex. Sometimes I have the power over him. I can tease him a lot, but nowhere as much as I can tease a woman because he'll reach a point where he can't control himself any more; then he'll take me forcefully. That's the best bit of all: the idea that I've got him to a point - with my mouth or my body - where he's got to give in and use me to finish himself off."

"How do you tease him? How do you make him lose control?" Hazel asked.

Megan told the Juniors what it was like to suck Ezra's cock, giving him uncontrollable pleasure just with her mouth. She said it was really his only erogenous zone, which the girls could hardly believe.

As they sat there, eyes shining, hanging on her every word, Megan realised she was talking for her own sake, trying to sort out in her own mind exactly how she felt, why she longed for Ezra and neglected her female lovers.

She also realised she was getting the Juniors excited. It was unfair to them, if there was no outlet for their desires. She needed to calm things down a bit.

"That's enough about sex for now. Tell me about yourselves. How long have you been Juniors together?"

"I'm nearly nineteen," Hazel said, "so I won't be a Junior much longer. Jenna joined me seven months ago and Preeda has been a Junior only two months."

"So what work will you be doing after this, Hazel?"

"I'm a Farmer, so I'll work in the fields or maybe with the cows or chickens. It depends on what needs doing."

"You're a Farmer? I assumed you were all Cloners."

"No, the Juniors can be Farmers, Miners or Cloners, though there aren't many teenage Miners."

"But how will you like it working in the fields after living with all this luxury?" Megan wondered.

"It'll be fine. It's hard work, planting, sowing, reaping and digging drainage ditches, but it's satisfying and I love my tribe. I love how we sing as we work; and we have wonderful feasts at the end of a hard day."

"I bet you keep all the best produce for yourselves," Megan said, not at all envious.

Hazel smiled silently to herself and the other girls laughed.

"All right," Megan said, "what's it like being a Junior? What's the best part?"

"The best for me is living in the Hall here with these girls," Hazel said.

"Same for me," agreed Jenna. "It's fun living with the Juniors."

"Yes, it's the other girls;" Preeda said. "And I like serving at the big table."

"I like the clothes," Jenna added.

"So what are the worst parts?" Megan asked.

"It's a long day, getting up before the councillors and going to bed after them," Hazel said.

"It's boring having to wait around," Jenna said.

"I don't like washing the councillors," Preeda said in a quiet voice.

"Ew!" said Megan. "You have to wash those old women!"

"And dress them," Jenna said, laughing. "It's not so terrible. They're sweet old dears, mostly."

"Preeda will get used to it," Hazel said, wisely. "It's better than being a nurse."

"I don't like when Madam Lawspeaker touches me," Preeda said.

"What do you mean she touches you?"

"Oh it's nothing improper," Hazel clarified. "Just a pat on the bottom or a hand on a cheek."

"She strokes my hair and says how pretty I am," Preeda said. "Maybe it's innocent but there's no need for it."

"You should report her to Madam Gloria - or does she touch you as well?"

"Never ... unfortunately," Jenna said. "I wouldn't mind if she did."

"Nor me," agreed Hazel, "she can touch me anywhere she likes anytime she wants."

"Me too," said Preeda.

"You all fancy Gloria?"

"Of course, don't you?" asked Jenna.

"She's not beautiful."

"You need to see her up close," Preeda said. "When she looks at you, you just melt in her eyes. She sees everything. She knows you all the way through."

"Ezra's smitten," Hazel said. "You can tell by how he looks at her."

Megan felt jealous. An instant and mortifying passion. She'd never felt jealous of any woman Ezra had slept with. She'd been in orgies with him and felt only pleasure that she'd been able to share him with her girlfriends. Now she felt affronted, as if he'd cheated on her. She needed to see for herself how he looked at Gloria.

"Girls, I'd like to help some more, if I can. Will you let me be a Junior and wait on the table at dinner with you?"

"We'd love you to," Hazel exclaimed, "but you won't want to be a Junior dressed like that."

Megan was in her practical leather shorts and jacket. They were old and faded, besides being a little dusty from the journey.

"Come on, we'll have a wash and dress you for dinner."

"Yes," agreed Jenna, "we'll show you how we wash the councillors."

The girls stripped and ran down to the bathroom, carrying thick towels which they left on hooks by the door. They fetched buckets of water, sponges and small bars of soft clay.

They began to wash each other, laughing as they splashed water around, rubbing each other with the clay and washing it off with the sponges. Then they got Megan to stand in the middle of a shower and began to work on her, cleaning her from the head down.

The Juniors laughed as they splashed, getting more water on each other than on Megan, but when she was fully lathered in clay, they became more serious and attended properly to their tasks.




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 14



Jenna and Hazel stood beside Megan and got her to raise her arms. They used large wet sponges to wash the clay from Megan's face and shoulders, around her firm breasts, in her armpits and down her ribs. Their cleaning was slow and almost sensuous.

Meanwhile, Preeda knelt behind Megan and asked her to spread her legs. Whether it was intended to be sensuous or not, Megan found herself responding to the intimate attention. She shut her eyes and enjoyed the sensation of soft sponges caressing her back, her tits, her sensitive buttocks and her thighs.

"You said women are soft but you're not soft!" Preeda said as she cleaned one of Megan's strong pert buttocks.

Her firm tits stood out proudly and the muscles of her stomach gave delicious shape to her thin waist, drawing a sexy line down her belly. Her athletic legs were beautifully shaped with hard muscle. She had well-rounded calves, elegant ankles and surprisingly dainty feet. She was a strong and lithe gymnast, beautiful and desirable, to both women and men.

"I am soft in a few places," Megan said, with a lusty smile.

"Not that we can feel," Hazel said with a giggle, her sponge gliding across Megan's taut stomach and lightly brushing the underside of her delectable tits.

Hazel and Jenna rinsed their sponges once more and wiped the last of the clay from Megan's curved back and ribs.

Now there was just Preeda, kneeling before her, the sponge gently working between her legs and up toward her pussy. Then she stopped. Preeda brushed the wet sponge softly down over Megan's luxuriant bush, not quite touching her most sensitive place. Megan was getting turned on despite herself.

Preeda wiped around her thighs again and Megan shifted position, spreading her legs a little further apart. Preeda shuffled an inch closer. Megan could feel the girl's hot breath on her belly, a soft small hand on her hip, the damp sponge poised tantalisingly before its target.

She held her breath as Preeda finally applied the sponge to her pussy.

And splash!

Hazel and Jenna had tipped their buckets over Megan's head, soaking both the girls.

Preeda shrieked and Megan shouted "What the f...!" but the other girls just laughed and ran away to refill their buckets.

This naturally led to a sponge fight, in which Megan and Preeda took on Jenna and Hazel. Megan's side won, of course, by dint of the Herder woman's accuracy and strong throwing-arm.

By the end, when the girls were thoroughly soaked from fighting and exhausted from laughing, they towelled each other down. This was just as intimate but not as sensuous. Then they walked, arms around each other's waists, back to the Junior dormitory and lay on their beds, giggling.

Soon it was time to get dressed to serve dinner to the councillors and their guests. It was a question what Megan should wear. She was closer in height and shape to Jenna: Hazel was taller and Preeda more petite. Jenna wore a blue polka-dot skirt and a white shirt. She had spares of different colours but Megan was more interested in the traditional sampot Preeda kept for special occasions. It was a long red and gold silk rectangle that wrapped a few times around the waist, then draped over the shoulder and tied off. With judicious folds, Preeda wrapped Megan up in the beautiful cloth, leaving tasty glimpses of cleavage and sexy calves.

Megan then indulged herself for ten minutes in front of one of the Cloner luxuries all the other tribes envied: the full-length mirror.

"It's beautiful, Preeda. Thank you."

"We're not finish with you yet," Hazel said. "Sit here."

Megan sat and the girls attended to her hair and makeup. Jenna braided Megan's hair into three large plaits and hung them over her bare right shoulder. Hazel and Preeda got their makeup kits and went to work on Megan's face, applying a purple eye-shadow, kohl black on her eye-lashes, a tiny smear of colour to highlight her strong cheekbones and a subtle pink on her lips.

She looked gorgeous and spent another ten minutes pouting in front of the looking-glass, until the other girls were dressed. They went down together to the kitchen to assist the cooks, who had brought pots of food from the Fair to heat them up.

5Dinner with the Councillors

In the council chamber, the discussion proceeded amicably. They agreed a formal rule that the women of the Cloner, Farmer and Miner tribes (who now live with the Farmers) were off-limits to Ezra, so that his offspring would have unrelated people to mate with. This meant that Gloria was off-limits as well, which Ezra clearly regretted. Gloria's own reaction was unreadable; but Mirselene and Madam Lawspeaker strongly approved the rule.

Ezra thought he understood Mirselene's motivation: leaving the outer tribes with a monopoly on normally-conceived children might balance the power of the Cloners. He didn't think there needed to be such a balancing power but he'd agreed to follow the three chiefs in their decisions. For the life of him, however, he couldn't fathom why Madam Lawspeaker was in favour of the rule. It was a puzzle he'd leave for later.

"May I ask a favour?" Ezra said. "One of my bedmates is Kalyndra Fernesdaughter Mariner. She's tried to conceive a clone and we have tried many times together in the ordinary way to get her pregnant but without success. ... If I can supply new nanotech material, will you try as often as Kalyndra wants to give her a child?"

"Of course we will," Madam Gloria said. "When there's no limit to nanotech, there's no reason to be stingy."

"Have you thought, Ezra, that it might be Kalyndra herself who has the problem, not you, nor the nanotech?" Madam Medic asked softly.

"It's a puzzle why it should be so," Calliope ventured. "How come Ferne conceived a clone when her identical daughter fails to conceive either by cloning or by normal sex?"

"But they're not identical," Madam Medic explained. "Ferne and Kalyndra have the same genes, so they look precisely similar, but if they grew up in different environments, then their physiology will be different. I don't suppose Kalyndra was malnourished as a child but she might suffer the lack of a particular vitamin essential to conception. ... In fact," Madam Medic carried on, musing to herself, "I wonder if that's what happens with the cosmic radiation ... ." She trailed off into silence.

That gave Ezra something more to think about and the table fell silent for a few minutes.

Their thoughts were interrupted by Hazel announcing dinner was ready. It was a welcome interruption. Everyone was hungry, Ezra especially. The Juniors were invited to prepare the table and bring in the food.

The books were removed, plates and cutlery brought in, glasses filled with water or fruit-juice as desired and, at last, hot food brought in on plates. It was only now that the fourth Junior was noticed.

Megan had been busy in the kitchen, plating up the dinners. Now she was carrying them in on trays; and, being well balanced and quick, she did a good job. Solange was the first to comment.

"Is that you, Megan Herder?" Solange demanded. "What are you doing?"

"Making myself useful," she replied, with a very bad, possibly ironic, curtsey.

"What do you think you look like, girl?"

"Beautiful and sexy, like all the Juniors, Madam. What do you say, Ezra?"

"Very fetching, Megan."

"Thank you, Sir," she said, dropping him a much finer curtsey than she'd given her chief.

"You call him Ezra?" Preeda asked, impressed by her boldness.

"Well, 'Ezra Goldrick of the Three Tribes' is such a mouthful."

"So you told us," Hazel muttered.

Megan giggled and most of the women smiled, though Madam Lawspeaker frowned - because of the giggling, not because she understood the joke.

"Megan!" Solange reprimanded. "Herders don't giggle!"

"Sorry, Madam," she said with another bad curtsey. "By the way," she whispered, close to Solange's ear, "what do you think 'fetching' means?"

"It's Earth-speak for he wants to fuck you," Solange whispered back.

"I thought so," Megan said happily.

When dinner was over, the table was cleared, a fresh pitcher of water brought and the books returned. The Juniors were sent away. Megan was disappointed but had to go with them. She took off her precious dress and handed it back to Preeda. She washed the make-up off her face in a subdued mood. She had seen how Ezra and Gloria looked at each other and her jealousy of Gloria was confirmed. Then she felt disappointed in herself for being jealous, though she knew exactly why she felt like this.

The Juniors had to stay awake for their final duties of the day: putting the councillors to bed. They sat on their beds chatting, distracting Megan from her thoughts.

***

Over dinner, as the chiefs and councillors continued their discussion, something interested Ezra.

"Gloria, can I ask you a personal question?"

"Of course, though I don't promise to answer."

"You said Madam Lawspeaker is your aunt but I believe the rule is that a woman has only one chance to make a clone."

"That's true, but some Cloner families have a different arrangement."

"A different arrangement?" He sounded suspicious.

"It began with my great-grandmother," Gloria explained, with an understanding smile. "She was one of the Founders, a woman in her twenties. Back then, before we knew we might run out of cloning serum, we wanted as many clones as possible, to sustain the population. By the time she'd had her second daughter, however, cloning had to be rationed; so great-granny established our family tradition."

"The older daughter would devote her life to politics and give up her chance for children. The younger daughter would take the older daughter's cloning rights and thus have two chances for children. Luckily, my grandmother and mother were both successful; and I have two wonderful nieces."

"From what I know of the women of Samothea," Ezra said, "how much they crave children, you and Madam Lawspeaker have made a great sacrifice - and taken a big risk."

"It is a risk but there are compensations. I had something that most women on Samothea have lacked for a half-century or more."

"Which is?"

"A sister."

Ezra paused. He considered himself lucky to have a sister himself.

"Madam Gloria, I hope I can find the right raw material to recharge the cloning kits, so that every woman on Samothea can have as many children as she wants."

She smiled in understanding.

"And failing that, I hope you'll consider the traditional method," he said.

Not everyone was pleased by that offer. Madam Lawspeaker began to puff herself up and prepared to speak.

"Yes, Aunt," said Gloria: "you have an objection?"

"We've just agreed that women of the Cloner tribe are off-limits to Ezra Goldrick!" she said.

"We have, assuming we can increase the supply of cloning nanotech, yes," Gloria agreed.

"Also assuming Ezra Goldrick can father boys," Madam Medic reminded them. "Otherwise, he's our only hope and every woman should be available to him."

"Though we will be neglecting the law," Madam Lawspeaker persisted, "and showing contempt for the wisdom of the Founders?"

"Explain yourself, Madam," Gloria demanded, beginning to be impatient with her fussy aunt.

"The Founders were strict on sexual morality and graced us with clear laws."

"What sexual morality is infringed were I to take Ezra as a bedmate? How would our laws be broken?"

"You'd be consorting with a known adulterer."

There was stunned silence.

"It is good, then, that we haven't consorted - yet," Gloria said in a lighter tone; but Ezra wasn't amused.

"I am not an adulterer!" he protested. "I've never even been married!"

"By our laws, you are married to Annela Freyasdaughter Woodlander," Madam Lawspeaker rejoined.

"How can I be? There was no ceremony. I gave her no ring. We made no vows."

"None of these was necessary. ... Was Annela married when you and she became bedmates?"

"Of course not."

"And you have just admitted you were unmarried. By our laws, therefore, you are married to Annela and any subsequent bedmate you take is an adulterous union."

"Madam," Ezra said turning to Mirselene. "You never told me this."

"It's an obsolete custom," she said. "I assumed the law was in abeyance without men and conventional marriage."

"That is not so, Mirselene," Madam Lawspeaker replied. "The law survives in our constitution. The sexual union of an unmarried woman and an unmarried man is equivalent to a marriage ceremony."

"But Ezra cannot marry all his bedmates!" Mirselene exclaimed. "Polygamy is also forbidden!"

"So it is. It's worse than adultery."

"Please explain?" Ezra said: "I'm sure adultery ceased to be a crime on Earth many centuries ago, at least in my country. How come it is a crime here?"

"The Founders made strong laws to prevent sexual infidelity and jealousy. It's a measure to preserve a peaceable and harmonious society. ... After the men died off, there was no need for the law, of course, but the law stands none the less."

"But what consequence does it have," Ezra asked, "except that it allows you to condemn me and my bedmates?"

"It means that Freya Annelasdaughter is legitimate and all your other children are bastards."

"Careful whom you insult, Dolores," Solange said, with a warning snarl in her voice.

Madam Lawspeaker looked pointedly at Solange's belly and said:

"Congratulations, Solange. I wish you a healthy delivery; but it changes nothing."

Solange was not mollified, though the Lawspeaker had sounded genuine and not sarcastic.

"So what if my other children are illegitimate," Ezra protested again. "What difference does it make? Won't they inherit from their mothers?"

"They will inherit from their mothers but only Annela and Freya will inherit from you."

"That's all right. I've nothing to leave anyone."

"Nothing of what you may gain in the future can go to any of your illegitimate offspring."

"Is that all: just laws of inheritance?"

"That is all the law cares about. The stigma of bastardy is conferred by the law but maintained only by society."

Madam Lawspeaker spoke calmly, without rancour, but her words stung Ezra.

"Then I suggest you change the damn law," he said, coldly, "because none of my children are going to have a stigma if I can help it."

"That's for the citizens of Samothea to decide, Mister Ezra Goldrick," Madam Lawspeaker said firmly, "and I think you will find the Cloners and Farmers have the majority."

"My dear aunt," Gloria said in a gentle voice, "no woman is forced to be Ezra Goldrick's bedmate and, clearly, the fear of adultery and illegitimacy does not weigh much on the consciences of those who so far have enjoyed his affections."

"Do you propose that we should just sanction law-breaking?"

"No. I mean to change the law."

"We cannot change the law simply because you have taken a fancy to the Earthman."

"We can if we can get a two-thirds majority," Gloria replied smiling.

Madam Lawspeaker was not amused.

"You will not survive a moral challenge, Niece."

"Perhaps not, Aunt; but I know someone who would get a near-unanimous victory if he stood for Prefect of Samothea."

'Prefect' was a political position that had not existed since the days of the Founders, before the system of separate tribes properly took off. The suggestion was met with silence all around, though the stony look on Ezra's face was a clear signal to those who didn't already know him that he had no desire for social status.

"However, this is not something to argue about now," Gloria relented. "It seems that Ezra lacks political ambition and, besides, we are a conservative lot on Samothea, so my aunt may be right about what changes to the constitution will pass."

Then she added in an even more conciliatory tone:

"I have no wish for political controversy - and even less desire for family conflict - so I thank my aunt for her legal advice and wisdom. We have no urgency for a decision on our constitution until we know whether Ezra Goldrick can father boys. What do you say, Madam Medic?"

Madam Medic had thought about this.

"Ezra, how many of your bedmates are pregnant?" she asked.

"I believe there are at least a dozen, though not all of them have told me."

"A dozen is a big enough sample. I would say we should know within a year. If all his bedmates have girls, then it will be a good guess that Ezra cannot sire boys on Samothea."

"I suggest we revisit this question in a year's time," Gloria concluded.

The Lawspeaker was not completely mollified but she was wise enough to accept a small victory. Some others at the table were more mystified than angered by the exchange. Solange was one whose temper vanished as quickly as it arrived. However, Ezra brooded. He was happy to learn that Solange was pregnant but unhappy to have got into a fight with the Lawspeaker. He tried to find some common ground with her.

"Madam Lawspeaker," he said. "Were you in office when Eloise pleaded for Yael (that is, Tamar) to be returned to her?"

"I was," she said warily, not knowing in what direction his question ventured.

"She spoke highly of the Lawspeaker at the time, who took her side in the case and was over-ruled by the Cloner Chief."

This pleased the Lawspeaker.

"I was new to the role," she explained, "and the old chief was secure and powerful. The law was on the side of Eloise and therefore so was I; but it taught me the limitations of the Lawspeaker's power and the need for balanced political authority."

"Just so," he agreed. "You'll be pleased to know that Eloise and Yael are reunited, that Yael discovered her mother in the White Mountains."

"Yes, I know this. I visited Eloise as soon as I heard she was in the camp. We are old friends."

She spoke matter-of-factly, not unkindly, apparently warming to Ezra, as he clearly wanted to reconcile with her.

There was silence once more at the table, which Gloria broke after a while to say to the three chiefs:

"It's getting late, Ladies: you should go soon, to be back in your tents before the night rain. Thank you for your company and for bringing Ezra to visit us."

Mirselene stood up to reply for the chiefs, saying:

"It's been a day of amazing revelations, Gloria. I'm happy to admit I've misjudged the Cloners. This," she put her plump hand on the Medical Textbook, "... this means a lot to us. Thank you."

Madam Gloria stood and bowed. All the women rose and the chiefs prepared to leave.

"I expect you and Megan will leave early tomorrow morning, Ezra," Solange said.

"Yes, I want to be back with the salvage party as quickly as possible, to start to revive Yumi. I guess the process will take a day or two. Calliope, would you leave the Cloner fair to come and help Thalassa?"

"She cannot leave the Cloner Fair," Madam Lawspeaker answered on Calliope's behalf. "She has to face a hearing."

"What hearing?"

"An accusation of mutiny and usurpation has been made against acting-Chief Calliope by Chief Belena. It is to be heard during the council of all the chiefs."

Ezra swallowed his instant protest. He'd just learned not to question the Lawspeaker until he knew all the facts; yet he had to speak.

"I was party to the events that unseated Belena;" he said, "and so were Kalyndra, Devon, Cressi and Thalassa, none of whom are here. On Earth, we don't have trials without witnesses."

"Nor do we, Ezra Goldrick, but this is not a trail, it's a hearing to see if there's a case to be brought to trial. For this, we need only the testimonies of Belena and Calliope."

Ezra realised he'd again been guilty of judging the folk-ways of Samothea by his own Earth customs. He made a judicious apology.

"Please forgive me, Madam Lawspeaker? I do not mean to question your system of justice."

She smiled at him, mollified at last.




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 14



So ended a meeting that Ezra knew was a turning point in his sojourn on Samothea. Nothing would be the same as before; and all his plans, hatched out of incomplete knowledge and faulty supposition, must be composed anew.

6After the meeting

With the three chiefs back in their tents and the Juniors putting the councillors to bed upstairs, Gloria and Ezra had the council chamber to themselves. They sat on adjacent chairs, enjoying being silent together.

Gloria realised it was best not to start something she couldn't finish. Instead, she turned to a safe topic:

"Do you understand Madam Lawspeaker's motivation?" she wondered.

"I'm not sure."

"The law is her baby."

"I see. Because, by family tradition, she gave up the chance for a child, she lavishes her love and care on the law."

"It makes her strict and pernickety," Gloria explained, "but she's not a bad person."

"I don't doubt it. On Earth, her talents and energy would have propelled her into the government of a province or captaincy of a large business."

She looked at him with her big eyes shining, imagining her aunt governing a province.

"On Samothea, she puts her mind to protecting the constitution and maintaining high moral standards among the Cloners," she said.

"Such as protecting you from my amorous advances?"

"Do I need protecting?"

"No. You're quite safe."

"I hope not. Besides, who says you're safe with me?"

"Indeed," he smiled.

"I trust we'll be good friends, you and me - until political circumstances allow otherwise."

"We will," he agreed. "What I find amazing about you, Gloria, is that I feel I know you completely, though I've only just met you."

"That's because we're attuned at a deep level. ... You know what that means?"

"I do - and I regret there's nothing we can do about it."

"Not yet."

"I wish your Aunt Dolly wasn't right."

"Me too! ... Come on. Walk me to my room before our erotic banter gets out of hand."

He laughed. They went hand-in-hand up the stairs and along the corridor. She walked gaily, like a girl, not seductively, like a woman. It was part of her charm, the contrast between the dignified chief and the fun-loving woman, enjoying the rare chance to be herself.

They passed the open door of a room in which Ezra's pack was clearly visible. At the door of her own room, Gloria stopped. An oil-lamp in a nearby recess flickered orange onto their faces. She turned to face him and on tip-toes kissed him on the cheek.

"Goodnight," she said.

"Goodnight."

She shut the door. He waited outside the door a minute, still breathing her perfume. He didn't know she was on the other side, leaning back against the door, waiting for her heart-beat to slow down enough to walk comfortably to her bed, to lie there, restive and longing.

"Damn!" she said, "I'm not done! I need to know."

She flung open the door to run after him but he was still there. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled herself up, planting her mouth on his.

She kissed passionately, eagerly, hotly - transmitting her whole body's repressed erotic desire through her lips and tongue. It was a strong turn-on. His cock was instantly hard. She could feel it through her loose robes. She sighed and kissed him harder, knowing she was making it worse for herself.

Eventually, Gloria regained her strength and broke the kiss, turning her head to rest it against his chest.

"Yes, I though that's what it would feel like," she whispered to herself, adding out loud: "When I change the law, we will finish this."

"All right," he agreed.

"But, for now, don't neglect any of your bedmates because of me."

She wasn't being presumptuous. Gloria was a woman who knew her own worth. It was part of her attraction.

He kissed her hand.

"Goodnight, Gloria."

This time he didn't stay at the door but made his way down the corridor. Suffering a raging hard-on due to his unsettling encounter with the alluring Cloner chief, Ezra walked straight past his room to the Junior dormitory.

The door opened silently. He looked inside. Starlight from the windows fell in grey squares on the bare floor between the beds. The nearest bed had been disturbed but was empty now and there was a bundle on the floor. It was Megan. Finding the mattress too soft to sleep on, she'd lain the blankets on the floor and slept there, curled up like a cat.

He snuck into the room and put his hand on her bare shoulder, whispering in her ear:

"Megan, are you awake?"

"Ezra?" she asked, drowsily. "What is it? Is it important?"

"No, just urgent."

"Hmm?"

"Come on, I need you," he whispered.

"All right, I'll get my clothes."

"You won't need your clothes."

It was too dark for him to see the look - both long-suffering and indulgent - she gave him. She fetched her clothes anyway.

In the corridor he lifted her into his arms and carried her to his bedroom. She dropped the clothes as soon as they were inside and turned to wrap her legs around his waist as he pulled her to him. She felt his stiff cock pressing against her belly.

His kissing was urgent and forceful. She felt herself swept up by his need. She kissed him back hard, as she always did because she was a Herder girl, who grabbed what she wanted with both hands.

From dreaming to horny in less than a minute, Megan was eager and responsive. She spread her legs wide when he laid her down on the bed and arched her back as he sucked on her tits, putting her hands in his hair. He made his way down her tight body to her succulent pussy.

She was already wet. He sucked her clitoris into his mouth and rubbed it with his tongue. She was bucking and moaning, feeling the tension. She moaned with every breath and breathed ever more quickly, her note getting more excited as he sank his face into her pussy and basted her nether-lips.

Her first orgasm came as a surprise to her. It was something left over from the erotic bathroom play with the Juniors. She tingled all over and her moans were deeper.

"Don't stop! Don't stop!" she cried.

He wrenched a second orgasm from her with his fingers on her g-spot, sucking on her clitoris. She arched again and her legs shook as she convulsed. Pleasure spread in a hot flush over her chest and thighs.

"Stop! Stop!" she begged and he stopped so she could rest a minute, lying back luxuriantly, eyes shut tight, humming to herself. Her left leg was still shaking. He held her, kissing her neck, hands around her waist, letting her recover.

Now it was Ezra's turn. Megan pushed him on his back and climbed on-board. She knelt and, with a hand, guided his hard cock into her wet and ready pussy. She sighed as she pushed down and began to swivel, massaging his cock in an erotic figure of eight with her hips.

As the tension rose, she began to make pelvic thrusts, riding him to a strong and steady rhythm, her hands on his shoulders, fingers digging in. They panted together and he matched her rhythm as he reached the plateau, fighting to make it last.

Close to the finish herself, she planted her mouth on his, putting her hands in his beard, his cock squelching in her pussy, her buttocks slapping against his thighs.

The last few thrusts were on them. With gasping moans from her and a satisfied grunt from him, they finished together, her spasm triggering his own, sending spurts of cum into her pulsating vagina. She thrust a few last times as his cock pumped out the last of his juice and the tension bled from their bodies.

Now there was peace and concord. They held each other tightly and relaxed. Ezra was exhausted after a long day. Sexually satisfied, his brain was tired and he started to nod off. It was the opposite for Megan. Where sex had enervated him, it had energised her. Her brain was fizzing and she wanted to talk.

"Talk to me, Ezra," she said.

"Mmm?"

"Tell me what you're thinking."

"I'm not thinking anything."

Then he remembered his manners.

"You were amazing, Darling," he said, drowsily. "Forgive my waking you?"

"I don't mind at all. I liked it, lots."

"Good," he said again, rolling on his side.

He shut his eyes. She pulled the blanket over them both and snuggled close.

"The Juniors are lovely girls, don't you think?" she asked.

"Mmm."

"They work hard but they have fun."

"Mmm."

"Are you listening?"

"Juniors ... fun."

"Do you think I'd make a good Junior?"

"Mmm."

"Is that yes or no?"

"Mmm."

"Then it's a yes."

"No," he said, "you're too wilful."

"You don't think I can be meek and obedient?"

"Not a chance. ... Darling, can I sleep now?"

"I suppose so, if you have to."

He rolled on his back. She lay against him, saying silently to herself: "Don't ask, don't ask, don't ask." She couldn't help herself. She had to ask:

"Do you love her?"

"Who?"

"Gloria."

"A little. Not as much as I love you."

That wasn't as satisfying to her as he supposed - if he supposed anything at all in his somnolent state.

("Don't ask any more," she told herself, "be content. Wait 'til the morning. Don't press him.")

She pressed him:

"Why?"

"Mmm? Why what?"

"Why do you love me more than her?"

"Mmm. ... Because I can have you but I can't have her."

That didn't sound like a compliment to either woman and did nothing to allay Megan's jealousy.

"Why can't you have Gloria?"

"... She's off-limits."

That's all he would say or could say. Morphia had conquered and he was breathing deeply, unresponsive to any further questions or prodding; but Megan was wide-awake and restive. Ezra seemed to say that he would love Gloria if she wasn't off-limits; but why was she off-limits? She was the Cloner Chief. She could change the rules and not be off-limits. It made no sense; and the more she thought about it, the less she liked it.

Dissatisfied, Megan got out of bed and collected her clothes. She snuck out of his room and returned to the Junior dormitory. Here she mused and fretted until she eventually fell asleep, snuggled in blankets on the floor.

***

Next morning, Ezra was woken by Preeda, who brought him a mug of tea. He was surprised Megan wasn't there but Preeda explained she'd gone to collect their horses and that he was the last one to get up.

He declined Preeda's help in using the bathroom, had a good wash and followed her to the Fair, where he said goodbye to the councillors, the chiefs and his friends.

Megan was waiting for him. Saying nothing, she threw him the reins of his horse and set off at a fast pace out of the Cloner Fair and up the hill. Ezra had to mount quickly and chase after her. Soon they were out of sight.

"What was that about," Mirselene asked Solange as they returned to her tent.

"I'm not sure. Megan asked me why Gloria is off-limits to Ezra, so I told her about the agreement with the Cloners, Farmers and Miners."

"Why would that make her mad at him?"

"I don't know, but I trust Megan to sort it out. She's a bright girl."

Mirselene gave Solange a searching look and then put the problem aside. She had meetings with the other chieftains today and trade agreements to pursue. It would be a full day for them all.

Megan gave Ezra the silent treatment for a couple of hours. She avoided talking by riding fast, waiting for him to catch up and then galloping off again. When they stopped to water the horses at a stream, however, she couldn't escape talking. They dismounted and let the horses drink.

"Megan, I'm sorry," he said.

"What for?"

"For whatever I said or did that made you angry with me."

"You don't even know, do you?"

"I know I've upset you and I'm sorry."

"Tell me what you did and I'll forgive you."

That wasn't fair but she was feeling testy. She really wasn't angry - it was something else - but it would be a good lesson for him.

"I did or said something last night," he hazarded.

"Did you?"

"Come on, Megan. Was it during sex?"

"No, afterward."

"I honestly don't remember."

"You don't remember talking about Gloria?"

"Was that it? I remember something but not what it was."

"You said you loved me more than Gloria because I'm easy and available but she's off-limits."

"Good God, did I say that?"

"Not those words, but it's what you meant."

"I promise you, Megan, I didn't mean that at all."

"What did you mean, then?"

He racked his brains and some of last night's conversation came back to him.

"Some people like things more if they're unattainable. They think it makes them special or better. I don't agree. I never want what's out of reach more than what's within reach. I don't want unattainable things instead of the here-and-now. ... I can't have Gloria, so I save myself pain and longing by not wanting her. I hope I'll always have you."

She took a minute to absorb this. It made a kind of sense. Besides, that wasn't why she was angry with him.

"I don't care if you think I'm easy and available. It's no shame to love sex and never refuse it. You agree to sex with me whenever I ask, so why shouldn't I be available to you whenever you ask?"

"So what did I say to make you angry with me?"

"What did you do with Gloria?"

"We kissed."

"And that got your cock hard, didn't it?"

"It did."

"Which you stuck in me."

"Is that it? I'm sorry, I was wrong to use you just because I was horny."

"Don't be daft! I was just as horny as you. Besides, I don't care who turns you on first. When we have our orgies, it could be anyone who first arouses you, but she might not be the one you stick your cock in."

"Come on, Megan, stop playing with me. You know I'm sorry for whatever I did. Just let me know what it was, forgive me, and we can go back to normal."

"That's just it. We can't go back to normal, not after this."

"After what?"

"After you fell for Gloria!"

"Megan, I don't believe you're jealous! You're one of the most beautiful and talented women on Samothea. You of all people have nothing to be jealous about."

"If I'm all that, how come you want Gloria at all?"

"Some of my other bedmates are just as beautiful as you, but you're not jealous of them."

"They're not her! They're normal people, like me. But Gloria's not. She's powerful. She's rich. She's intelligent. She's got wardrobes full of clothes. All the Juniors love her. She's got everything! ... It's not right that you love her as well. She doesn't deserve to take the little thing I have from me!"

"Darling, I'm truly sorry. What can I do to fix this?"

"Fall out of love with Gloria and never love her again."

"I'm not sure I can."

"You just told me you'll save yourself pain and longing by not wanting her."

"True, but I can't promise not to fall for her again when she's not off-limits."

Megan turned away.

Ezra hadn't encountered jealousy before on Samothea. He stood silently, thinking hard.

The Woodlanders nipped nascent jealousy in the bud by sharing him among them monthly. The Mariners were in transition when he first visited, so the problem barely arrived, though there were small sparks of friendly contest over him. The herders were equal-opportunity orgiasts and, though rough and agonistic, had surely been the least clingy and possessive tribe.

He needed a way to deal with jealousy. Much as a man might fantasize about women fighting over him, he's as likely to end up with none of them than with one or them all. Besides, Megan was a typical Herder woman. If they all felt like her in regard to Gloria, then he'd have a pretty torrid time explaining himself.

"Do you really think Gloria can take me away from you?" he asked.

Megan turned back, calm and reasonable.

"Yes, that's exactly what I think. She will insist on having you exclusively to herself - and she can do it. She has the power and the charm."

"She has the charm but no one has the power. If I have to choose between my present bedmates and Gloria, I will choose my bedmates, whatever happens. I will always choose you."

"That sounds nice but it won't work. If Gloria is one of your bedmates, then she'll be the only one. I know it."

"You can't know it and, now I see how you feel, I'll guard against it."

"There's only one way to guard against it, Ezra, and that's never to be alone with that woman. Keep away from her. Stay with your current bedmates. Don't go back to the Cloner city."

She stopped. She was not so sure of herself that she could dictate to him; yet it was a lesson he needed to learn on how his bedmates felt.

"I have to go back to the Cloner City some day, Megan, but I have an idea. If you can spare the time, and if Solange can spare you, I'll go with you - or one of my other bedmates you recommend and trust. Do you think that would work? Someone to stop me, er, making a fool of myself?"

Megan thought about it. Then she thought about it some more. He sounded sincere and it might be an answer.

As she was silent, he added some more information.

"Did you know that I'm legally married to Annela?"

"Yes, Solange told me."

"What do you think?"

"I think it's nonsense. ... I also think Annela is one of the sweetest women there is. She wouldn't dream of keeping you to herself, even if your marriage was a real thing."

"I agree. It was Annela herself who first persuaded me to take all the Woodlanders as bedmates. She even said, 'Think of us as your wives and take us all.'"

"Well, then, Annela is on my side, the side of your bedmates. She wouldn't want you to commit adultery with Gloria!"

It was curious for him to hear her use the term 'adultery' in this context, after it had been a feature of Madam Lawspeaker's judgment on her niece. It seemed that Megan's idea of adultery was for him to neglect his many bedmates and pledge himself to one woman alone. He didn't press her on the matter, happy enough just for her to talk to him again.

"So you forgive me for making you jealous last night and speaking stupidly?" he asked.

Megan gave this serious thought and at last relented.

"Yes, I forgive you. But we'll have to keep an eye on you, from now on."

She forgave him for real that night, when they pitched their tent after a hard day's riding. They camped by a stream, hobbled the horses, had a good wash, ate dry rations and fucked non-stop for two hours.

His suction on her tits, then his tongue in her snatch, her lips around his cock and her moans and cries as he pounded his cock into her hard body ended in convulsive spasms and a slow release of tension. It was make-up sex at its best. She lay on him and forgot how jealous she'd been. Right now, she was warm and fulfilled, sharing the intimate togetherness felt by lovers who use their bodies to forgive each other.

Megan went to sleep, content to know she was loved and desired.

7Back with the salvagers

When they got back to the salvage camp next morning, they took the horses straight to the watering hole, hobbled them and let them graze. The other horse wasn't there and they noticed the hole had muddied up.

They carried their panniers and packs into the camp, where it was clear the salvage party had been hard at work. There was a pile of wood for a camp-fire. Newly-dug ditches drained the rain-water away from the gullies around the tents. Full water-bladders were stacked in the shade of the largest tent to keep cool. Baskets of dried meat and leather rolls with cheese also sheltered from the sun.

It looked like the camp was empty as they stowed their packs; then Tamar appeared out of her tent. She'd been lying down inside, reading. She was about a quarter of the way through Middlemarch.

"Hello," she said.

"Hello," Ezra replied, "where is everyone?"

"Wildchild went off with the horse. The others have gone fishing."

"I bet Wildchild's having a strop," he said to Megan but Tamar didn't comment.

"How about you?" Megan asked. "Why did you stay behind?"




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 15



Author's note:

Chapter 15 continues the story of Ezra's sister, Danielle, and follows on from chapter 12, which ends with Danielle and her fiance, Roger, going to her parents' home for their wedding.

*****

1 Australia

Danielle Goldrick and Roger Harcourt were married in a short formal ceremony at the Goldrick family estate on the coast about twenty miles north of Perth, Australia.

Sixty doting family members and close friends watched the couple make their vows under a white canopy on a hill with a view of the blue-green ocean, criss-crossed by white-tipped waves. It was a cool June day. An east wind brought the smell of the sea and lightly fluttered the ladies' dresses but was more of a relief than a nuisance.

The groom was traditionally nervous in his top hat and morning coat. The bride was radiant and beautiful in a white and cream wedding-dress with gold cross-stitching; a dress hundreds of years out-of-date and therefore timeless and perfect.

The wedding party returned to a marquee on the lawn for dinner and embarrassing speeches. Mostly embarrassing. Roger's speech touched on a solemn note when he remembered Danielle's brother, Ezra, who was necessarily absent. They drank to his health and the hope of a safe return.

After the speeches, a string band played waltzes and the racier numbers of the Nineteenth Century for those guests not too replete from a sumptuous dinner to dance. Still in her wedding dress, the bride stood up with her new husband, her father and her own father. Then she changed into a red party frock and danced with all her other male relatives, her husband's relatives, even the best man. She loved dancing and by eight o'clock, with the party in full swing, returned to claim her husband for the rest of the night.

Although Roger didn't dance very well, he knew how to hold his wife and sway in rhythm. Danielle had always meant to correct this major failing but never seemed to have the time: now she had the rest of their lives together to teach him to dance properly. 

Content to hold him around the neck and gaze adoringly up at his face, Danielle let the tingling excitement and unexpected butterflies of the day gently drift away. She rejoiced in a sense of satisfaction that it went so well - not that she expected anything else, with her mother in charge.

Mariotta Goldrick, the famed society beauty and perfect hostess, a vision in a powder-blue dress and white stilettos, effortlessly ensured that no guest lacked food, conversation or a dancing-partner. She supplied her parents and older relatives with brandy and charmed two of her grand-nephews away from the bar and onto the dance-floor, to escort Roger's younger sisters. Finally she turned her attention to bride and groom.

"Come on you two," she commanded. "Eight o'clock: time for bed. Off you go."

"We're happy here, Mum," Danielle said, gazing up at Roger.

"You'll be even happier in bed. Go on. And stay there! I don't want to see either of you for three days. (You can come out tomorrow afternoon to say goodbye to everyone)," she graciously allowed.

"Well, fresh new husband," Danielle said, "are you going to stand up to your mother?"

"I don't think I dare, Darling. Your mother's very intimidating."

"Nonsense, Roger," Mariotta insisted. "I'm a lamb. Everyone knows that. And, by the way, if my daughter can walk straight or sit comfortably, I'll send you back to do it to her again properly."

Just then, Nathan Goldrick arrived with a glass of champagne for his wife.

"Really, my love," he said, "I'm sure the young people can arrange their bedroom matters for themselves."

"Bedroom matters, forsooth! My dear husband, you weren't always such a prude. Children, shall I tell you what my Lord and Master did to me on the very day we met?"

"Oh, Mother!" Danielle exclaimed, as the seasoned diplomat himself kept a diplomatic silence.

"All right," Mariotta said with determination. "I'll whisper it to my handsome new son."

She did so.

"That was not very diplomatic behaviour, Sir!" Roger said, sounding shocked.

"My dear boy," Nathan replied, "I have no idea what my flighty wife told you: she changes her stories every time she tells them. ... However, if you are minded to take Mariotta's advice, then I give you my congratulations a final time and wish you both a very good night."

He kissed his daughter on the forehead and shook hands with Roger.

Everything considered, it seemed a good idea to start their rounds of thanks and goodnights. With Mariotta in charge, however, the valedictions were short. She bustled the lovers quickly and efficiently to the secluded lodge-house, a five-minute walk from the main house, where they were spending their wedding-night.

"You'll find everything you need indoors and I'll have food and fresh linen delivered to the pantry."

"Oh, Mum!"

But Mariotta was serious. She kissed their cheeks and whispered a final instruction to Roger, then she pushed them inside and shut the door, regretting only she couldn't lock it from the outside.

In the bedroom, the newly-weds took off their shoes and sat on the edge of the bed, holding hands, breathing quickly, taking in the reality.

"We did it!" Roger said.

"We surely did. You composed yourself very well, husband."

"As did you, wife. You were beautiful, radiant, perfect."

"You were pretty handsome yourself, tuckered up like a grey penguin."

He pulled her to him and they kissed. She climbed onto his lap.

"What scandalous story did my mother tell you?" Danielle asked.

"Are you sure you want to know? Some children never recover from learning that their parents had sex."

"I think I can take it, though spare me the grisly details, if there are any."

He told her.

"Ooh! Ooh!," she pushed herself away. "Grisly details!"

"Sorry, Darling. I'll spare you the rest. ..."

She settled back into his lap.

"I've been meaning to ask this for ages," he said. "How come your father is such a successful diplomat when his wife is so deliciously indiscreet?"

"Ha! You think there's a contradiction? Dad's successful because Mum's so indiscreet. It's all an act: she reveals some trivial secret to put people at their ease and make them want to be less guarded in return."

"Very clever. It helps him, I suppose, that the diplomacy game is still heavily skewed toward men and most men fall instantly in love with Mariotta."

"Yes, that helps. It's the irresistibility gene: all the Goldrick women have it."

"I knew you had some kind of power over me. I thought it was drugs."

"Drugs are unreliable: the irresistibility gene is more certain."

"Certain enough to keep us confined to this bedroom for three days, as per your mother's orders?"

"Well, we can try, though I don't think she can stop us going for a walk outside."

"Actually, Mariotta's last piece of advice to me catered for that."

"Really? What did she say?"

"She said that, if you wanted to leave, I should tie you to the bed."

"Ooh! Well, go on then."

"Maybe I will, though you don't want to leave yet, do you?"

She immediately got up and walked to the door. He jumped up to catch her and held her but she struggled, laughing, inching toward the door. He lifted her up and placed her back on the bed. She leapt up again and ran for the door. He grabbed her again and, this time, as she struggled in his arms, he plonked her on the bed and lay on her, trapping her under him.

"Now stay put," he ordered. "Didn't you just vow to obey me?"

"Certainly not! I vowed to laugh at your jokes, even when they're not funny, and to fake an orgasm every so often just to keep you happy. I never said 'obey'."

"Not funny? When are my jokes not funny?"

She laughed and pulled him down to kiss him.

Getting into it, she turned them over to go on top and used his body to push herself up; then she sprinted for the door a third time (though slow enough to give him a good chance to catch her).

"All right," he said, his arms around her waist, pulling her back to the bed. "Mariotta's rules!"

She lay on her front on the bed, laughing hard. He knelt over her, searching for something to restrain her with. He decided on a pillow case and shook out its pillow, grabbed her arms and knotted her wrists together. With another pillow case, he tied her ankles. Then he pushed her onto her side in the middle of the bed.

"Stay there, wife, while I find something better to tie you up with."

She looked at him saying nothing, her eyes shining, an expectant hungry smile on her lips.

He pushed her blonde hair from her cheek and kissed her, then he slapped her bottom ("Ooh!" she exclaimed) and went to hunt in the drawers and cupboards for a large soft blanket, which he took to the kitchen. With a pair of scissors, he cut the blanket into strips.

It was a complex procedure, keeping Danielle still while undressing her, removing the restraints and tying her up properly. Of course she struggled, laughing and squirming, even trying to bite, giving him just enough trouble to want to gag and blindfold her.

Finally he got her in the position he wanted, spread-eagle on the bed, naked except for her white stockings and suspender-belt, her wrists and ankles tied to the corner posts, her bra loosened and pulled down her chest, releasing her big juicy tits with the pert toothsome pink nipples.

He left her there, breathing quickly, anticipating, loving her wedding night so far. Normally so independent, so much in control, she relished giving up power to her new husband, longing for him to take possession. The soft blanket strip covering her eyes, another strip gagging her mouth, made her concentrate on her predicament. She took shallow breaths and tried not to relax.

Roger stripped and lay on her. He started on her neck, kissing, flicking her throat with his tongue, taking small nibbles, working down to her shoulders. She enjoyed it too much to put up any resistance at first, but she began squirming again, just for show. She was already aroused and beginning to ache for his cock in her.

He got to her tits. She loved when he adored her nipples, which had just the right sensitivity to be a big turn-on when he sucked and nibbled but not enough to give her pain or want him to stop. The sensation went straight to her pussy, where the tap opened. She arched her back and held her breath.

He didn't leave her breasts until they had been properly worked over, sucked and licked in all the right places: the sensitive underside between ribs and nipples; the valley between; and the large pink nipples themselves, hard and aching to be squeezed and sucked. He left tooth-marks.

Then he kissed down her belly to her thighs. Slowly and gently, he rolled her stockings down to her ankles, kissing the bare flesh as it was revealed. He went as slowly as he could, to tease and frustrate her, finally reaching her wet pussy, where he languished for an hour, loving her with his tongue.

Danielle bucked and moaned. Her muffled note rose and fell as the warm and nervy tingling spread about her body; sometimes tense, sometimes intense, always a kind of fizzing joy that numbed her mind as she rose in her dark self-contained world to a series of pretty little orgasms. She shook and gasped as Roger sucked on her clit and lashed it with his tongue.

He licked the alphabet on her pussy, then - showing off as a historian - licked the Greek, Cyrillic and Hebrew alphabets as well. She moaned sweetly and came many times, biting on her gag, her juices wetting his chin. Finally, it was his turn.

He stripped off the last of his clothes, lay on her, pulled off her gag and pressed his mouth on hers. She sucked his tongue into her mouth as he stuffed his stiff cock into her. She hummed her approval as he began ramming her. But it was six weeks since they'd had sex and he couldn't last long. After a dozen hard strokes, he felt the liquid sensation, then the urgent, almost painful, joy at the head of his cock, and finally the relieving spasm as he spurted his seed deep inside her.

He grunted and lay heavily on her as the ecstatic feeling ebbed away.

Still in her dark world, eyes tight shut under the blindfold, Danielle felt content and satisfied. She clung on to him when he undid her bonds, unwilling to let him go, hanging around his neck. He carried her to the shower, which they used together, drying off with a hot air blast; then he carried her back to the bed. They lay together, resting, glowing, laughing a little.

"You know, husband, I thought married sex was supposed to be boring and samey."

"I'm sorry. I promise to be more boring next time."

"Don't you dare! ... So when is 'next time'?"

"Soon, I need to recover."

"I'm ready now. ... Come on, Roger, it's not polite to make a lady wait."

She climbed on him and began kissing his chest. He quickly began to recover and ran a hand through her hair.

"Tie me up again, please?" she said.

"As my lady desires."

He tied her wrists together behind her back and helped her to kneel beside the bed. He put the blindfold back on but left off the gag.

"Open up," he said.

She obediently opened her mouth, eager to be commanded. He pushed his cock into her mouth and she sucked it with relish until it was hard again.

Restrained, controlled and vulnerable though she was, while Danielle had his cock in her mouth, she felt she was the one with the power, the power to give him heavenly pleasure and make him groan.

Fully hard, he withdrew and helped her stand. He gagged her again and guided her forward onto the bed, kneeling with her arse up, her knees spread, her face in a pillow. He spanked her round buttocks a few times, which kept her in her subjugated mood, then he knelt behind and pressed his cock against her wet and ready slit.

She moaned sweetly as he pushed his cock in and began thrusting. He held her hips and she did what she could without the use of her arms to buck against him.

He thrust slowly with long strokes, pulling out and ramming back in. She moaned loudly, despite the gag, loving the friction. After a while, he began to go faster. Her moans rose in pitch and were interspersed with gasps as she sucked air in past her gag. 

Grabbing a tit in one had and tugging her head back by her hair, he rammed her harder, bringing her to the edge of a climax. She arched her back and moaned sweetly.

He reached around and rubbed his fingers sideways over her clit. She tipped over the edge, crying out with joy. Climaxing hard, Danielle felt waves of pleasure flow upward through her belly to her breasts and throat and downward to her thighs. More orgasms quickly engulfed her senses, as her back hunched and relaxed. Her thighs shook and she felt the tension even in her toes. Her body rocked with spasms of pleasure.

Swept away by her sexual response, Roger could no longer hold off his own release. Her spasmodic convulsions drew out his orgasm. He held her tightly around the waist as he spurted his load deeply into her wet cleft.

After he'd untied her, she rolled over and laid on him. He held her tightly, stroking her back. They shared that delicious moment of coming down together from a mutual high, breath returning to normal, heart-beat slowing, heat suffusing. They rested some time, then Danielle said:

"Ready to go again?"

"You're kidding?"

"Not man enough for me?"

"No one could be; but I suppose it's my duty, now we're hitched."

"That's right, it's a husband's duty to please his wife."

"So what's a wife's duty to her husband."

"To let him please her."

"That sounds fair."

"Doesn't it? Come on ... do your duty, nice and hard!"

It was early in the morning when Roger gamely began to do his duty for the third time that night. At the same time, the party finally wound down. The relatives had rooms in the main house, the guests were sent to hotels in taxis and Nathan and Mariotta Goldrick at last went to bed.

"I'm very happy with our son," Nathan said, unzipping his wife's dress and helping her step elegantly out of it.

"You should be. I chose well for Danielle: Roger has lots of potential."

"Potential? I'd say he's pretty accomplished already."

"Nonsense, Darling: a man isn't fully developed until a woman has licked him into shape."

Nathan paused.

"Why did you say 'you' chose well?"

"Well of course I wouldn't let Danielle decide for herself."

"She asked your opinion?"

"Naturally. A daughter needs her mother's advice."

"Frankly, I can't imagine Danielle not deciding for herself."

"Really, Nat? However sure of her own mind she may seem, a young woman's not fit to make such an important decision. It takes a wiser and older head."

"Danielle is twenty-nine!"

"Exactly! Not yet thirty. I wouldn't let the fate of our grandchildren be decided by the romantic notions of a child."

Nathan Goldrick knew his wife and daughter to be vital, intelligent and strong-minded women (for all Mariotta's pose as a dutiful diplomatic spouse) and he had the strongest doubts possible that Danielle allowed Mariotta to decide her choice of man. He went along with the fiction, none the less.

"So what made you choose Roger?"

"He wasn't an astronaut or a footballer."

"Very sensible criteria, my love. Anything else in his favour?"

"Yes, he's got a steady job but isn't rich. He's moderately good-looking but not too attractive. He's honest, fair, traditional, manly, liberal and good with his tongue."

"Good with his tongue? You mean sex, don't you, not conversation?"

She raised a sculpted eye-brow.

"Of course you do," he smiled. "How did you learn that?"

"From Danielle, of course. It was the first thing I asked when she told me they'd slept together."

"The first thing?"

"Certainly. If he's going to be the life-companion of my daughter, Roger needs to keep her happy in bed and, as you know, confidence, consideration and a good tongue are three parts of a good lover."

Nathan had nothing to add. He was himself traditional enough not to want to discuss his daughter's bedroom matters any further. He thanked God that no one had told him when Danielle and Roger had first slept together. Yet it reminded him of something from earlier that evening.

"So what did you tell Roger about our first time together?"

"I told him how you shagged me up the arse under the stairs in my Dad's house when we were supposed to be playing tennis."

They were eighteen and had just finished high-school. Their fathers had recently met and were arranging a business deal. With nothing to do on a hot summer's day, Nathan had accompanied his father. The plan was for him to play tennis with Mariotta in the local park but they never got there. They never made it out of the house.

"You were very confident and gave me no choice," she said, sitting on the bed, smiling at the happy memory as she rolled a sheer stocking down a long fashionable leg.

"Darling," Nathan protested. "I recall that you seduced me."

"Memory will play tricks, especially on the elderly. You were definitely the driving force, Nat, and I was too young and naive to resist."

"My beautiful Darling, you were young - you still are - but you were never naive."

She patted his cheek.

"You're sweet, but a woman who's just married off her daughter can no longer maintain any pretensions to being young. No," she concluded with an ornamental sigh. "I must begin to grow old with grace."

There was no chance of Mariotta ever doing that. Aged seventy, after two rejuvenation treatments she looked forty and was still one of the most compelling women on the social scene.

As for Nathan: though he'd tried to resist his wife's demands, he'd also endured a rejuvenation treatment for her sake and now passed for a vigorous fifty-five. Stocky and shorter than his voluptuous wife, he had distinguished grey hair, a strong jaw and intelligent dark-blue eyes. A boxer's nose gave him a pugnacious look but his character was open and he was capable of as much natural charm as Mariotta, mediated by his most attractive feature, a golden baritone voice.




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 15



"You know what's a good way to stay young?" he asked.

"No, what?" Mariotta said.

"To do again what you did when you really were young."

"Of course. What do you propose?"

He indicated his clothes cupboard, a small walk-in affair with its ceiling at a slope due to the second-story eaves (her own wardrobe was bigger than their bedroom).

"It's a bit like the cupboard under the stairs," he said.

Mariotta smiled.

"It's very cramped," she complained.

"That's the point, Darling."

Nathan had undressed down to his shorts and Mariotta had only her suspender belt and knickers to remove. He pulled her up and held her tightly as they kissed and he slipped his fingers into her knickers, finding her as responsive as always.

He gently pulled down her knickers and undid the suspender belt; then he led his beautiful wife into the cupboard and they fucked as forcefully and possessively as they had done fifty years before.

2 Japan

Next morning, Roger tied Danielle's wrists to her ankles, laid her on her front and spanked her until her bum was hot and red. Then he fucked her hard. She wailed delightedly. He did it again at lunchtime.

In the afternoon, Mariotta let the honeymooners join their relatives and friends for a late lunch. Danielle remembered to limp theatrically for her mother's sake but she yelped for real when she sat down. She and Roger shared a guilty smile.

After lunch and long sincere goodbyes (Danielle and Roger were not just going on honeymoon: they were emigrating), family and guests went home and Mariotta sent the young couple back to the lodge. They were too wrapped up in themselves to notice that Mariotta sported a crick in her neck and Nathan nursed a strained back. That morning, Danielle's parents had discovered the reason why cupboard sex is for teenagers.

All too soon the first part of the honeymoon was over. Mariotta released them early so she could spend the morning with Danielle, ostensibly to make sure she had packed everything but really to hold her daughter and kiss her whenever the mood took. Nathan was less demonstrative but just as affected. He held Danielle tightly and kissed her cheeks, damp with tears.

It was a prolonged tearful goodbye but, at last, Roger and Danielle were on their way to the airport. They held hands in the car, silent at first, then laughing together at nothing, just like they had when they were first in love.

At the airport, they checked their messages for the first time since before the wedding. There were hundreds of congratulations to acknowledge. Then Danielle had a good idea. Spurred by the coincidence that Yumi (the girl with whom Ezra had spent his last day on Capella Spaceport) had a Kyoto mailbox address and the head-office of HyperStar Japan, the engineering firm she was visiting, was near Kyoto, she took a chance and sent a message to Yumi, saying who she was and that she and Roger were on their way to Japan.

Missing her brother at her wedding, she thought it might be interesting to meet the last person he spoke to on Capella. Danielle kept her real motive safely hidden from her conscious self, which was that she was deeply worried about Ezra and fearful for his safety. It would be a comfort to talk to anyone who had seen him more recently than she.

It was a two-hour flight by stratoliner to Tokyo and, half-an-hour into the journey, Danielle's communicator buzzed. She read the message twice before showing it to Roger. It was from Hayate Takahashi of Kyoto. It said:

"Danielle Harcourt:

In this time of glorious heat...

Esteemed Madam,

It would be more honour than your humble servant deserves were you to reply to this missive with news positive regarding the whereabouts of your humble servant's beloved daughter, Beautiful, who has been missing beyond a year and two months.

Beautiful's father and mother, brother and sister bow to you and hope you will be moved by our overflowing tears to bestow good news upon your humble servants.

We wish you to enjoy the summer season...

High Bridge Smooth."

"High Bridge Smooth?" queried Roger.

"The idiot messaging program robotically translated the personal names along with the text," Danielle explained. "Look, Yumi's name means 'Beautiful'."

"Are you going to reply now?" he asked.

"I think I should, though I'm not sure what to say."

She read the message again and wrote an answer, saying she was sorry but she had no news of Yumi. She knew only that her brother and Yumi had been on Capella together. Danielle herself had hoped to speak to Yumi.

Fifteen minutes later, Danielle's communicator buzzed again. This time it was an incoming video call. She accepted the link and a young Japanese man's face appeared on the screen.

"Mrs Harcourt?"

"Yes."

"My name is Itsuki Takahashi. You honoured my family with a reply to my father's message."

The young man spoke quickly, in perfect English, with barely an accent.

"I hope you don't mind my intercepting your communication to my father but I have a good reason. Will you allow me to talk to you?"

"Of course."

"My father doesn't know that my sister went to Capella. He believes she's somewhere on Earth. I can't tell him the truth because I'm keeping a secret on her behalf."

"I understand, but what is the secret and do you know where Yumi is?"

"I don't know where she is. I am just as worried as my parents, though I know a little more than them. Please can we meet up and talk? Where are you staying? How long are you staying? Will you be visiting Kyoto?"

"Yes, we're visiting Kyoto. We're staying in Tokyo for three days, then we have a meeting with an engineering firm near Kyoto. We have another day after that before we leave Japan for Capella Spaceport."

"Ah! Can I see you in Kyoto? I can guide you to the best Temples and gardens."

Danielle consulted Roger and they agreed: they would meet Itsuki Takahashi at the Nanzen-ji Temple on the morning of their last day in Kyoto.

Thus resolved, the rest of the flight went quickly and soon they were in the vast Tokyo transport hub, trailing their suitcases and looking bewildered, not knowing what transport to take to their hotel.

There was a large choice: maglev trains, subway trains, levitating ground cars, air-shuttles and moving pavements. The bustle was amazing. People streamed constantly to and from the roadside pickups and train platforms, leaping onto moving walkways or squeezing into lifts to the airport or the subway.

Among the hurrying passengers and staff were robots - Japan's technological speciality - calmly giving directions or acting as porters, speaking hundreds of languages. Roger was about to join a queue to talk to a robot when Danielle grabbed his arm.

"Over here, Darling," she said confidently.

She led him up to a large gallery that opened onto the Tokyo skyline. Below were the maglev train-lines and roads that streamed out to the various districts of the city and beyond. At the edge of the gallery, beyond a row of booths, were launch-pads, where people stood on thick plastic cylinders, got their balance and floated out into the sky. Others floated onto the gallery, skidded to a halt and stepped off their cylinders.

"The air-jellies!" Danielle exclaimed. "We have to try them."

"What are they," Roger asked, hopelessly out-of-date with modern technology.

"Here, I'll show you."

They went to a booth, gave the destination and hired two of the larger cylinders that had room for their luggage. Danielle immediately got on her cylinder and felt the comforting embrace of the air-suit. The cylinder raised six inches off the ground and wobbled a little until she held her arms out to steady it.

"Get on Roger. This is going to be fun!"

"But what is it? What does it do?"

"Step on and I'll explain."

Roger stepped on and immediately felt a slight pressure on his thighs, chest and shoulders, as if soft invisible arms were holding him in place.

"It's an air-jelly. The cylinder levitates and takes you where you want to go and it keeps you in place by microwaves compressing the air around you. Try to move your arm, slowly."

Roger did so. It was like pushing against a soft pillow.

"Now try to move your arm quickly."

Roger found his arm held in place by a firm elastic.

"When we're moving, it's like being trapped in jelly. Very safe but exciting."

"You've done this before, Darling?"

"Never. I've only read about it. ... Now, are we ready to go? Just lean in the direction you want to go. You'll see a green light if you're going in the right direction and a red light if you're not."

Roger leaned gently forward and the cylinder levitated and began moving slowly. There was a ghostly green tinge to the air in front of him. Copying Danielle, he put his arms out about thirty-degrees to correct for a wobble at slow speeds.

They approached the launch-pad, preparing to leap into space on a plastic disc. It was a prospect Roger embraced only for the sake of his thrill-seeking wife.

"Are you sure it's safe, Darling?" he asked, peering tentatively over the rail of the gallery.

"Completely safe. Look at everyone coming in. There's nothing to worry about."

He could see air-jelly riders sporting in front of the gallery. It seemed to be the favoured kind of transport for young people. Boys were flying around at break-neck speed, standing on their hands or doing cartwheels, rushing toward each other and bouncing away at the last moment, grinding to a halt or hanging upside down just for fun.

At the launch pad, the air glowed red in front of them and they stopped to let some riders come in. It was a bunch of school-girls, sitting down on their cylinders, swinging vigorously from side to side before gliding in for a fast landing. They zipped past Roger and landed on the gallery, spinning and giggling. The girls leapt up and hugged each other - all except one, who sat on her cylinder with a flushed face and waved the other girls to help her. They giggled even more as they helped her up and formed a screen around her. She held her hands over the back of her short skirt.

Always the gentleman, Roger turned away, not wanting to add to the girl's embarrassment.

"Poor child," he said, "though I'm not surprised she wet herself."

"It's not that, I think," Danielle said. "Don't you know about girls and swings?"

"What about them?"

"That some girls get their first orgasms from a swing. I certainly did. We had a swing in the local park and, when Ezra was home from one of his trips, I used to make him take me to the park and push me on the swing for ages. He never knew why I liked it so much."

"That is charming and also faintly incestuous."

"Nonsense," Danielle laughed. "You can't have incest with a swing!"

The spot of air in front of them went green.

"Are you ready?" she asked.

"I suppose so."

"You're the one who made me ride in a motorcar, on the ground!"

Danielle emphasised the word 'ground'.

"But that was tried-and-tested ancient technology. This is new-fangled and strange!" he protested.

Danielle laughed at their opposite attitudes toward technology - him conserving the old, she embracing the modern - then she leant sharply forward and glided out over the gallery. Despite his reservations, Roger followed and they were off, floating over the Central Business District of Tokyo, along canyons formed by skyscrapers, expertly steered by the cylinders, tracking sideways to avoid other air-jellies and shuttles on the main routes.

It was evening and the famous lights of Tokyo flashed their bold colours over the towers. Some adverts dripped from the roofs of buildings and down their sides. Others were holographic projections into the air. Still other messages played tag with neighbouring buildings, flashing in sequence or disappearing on one side of the street to be taken up in front of another building on the other side. A glittering ticker-tape ribbon of news headlines and share prices kept pace with the air-shuttles along the highway, blinking as it updated its information from all over the world.

They landed at an air-jelly station on the roof of their ultra-modern hotel and were met by a robot to carry their luggage. The hotel manager booked them in and offered a choice between a robot maid and a human maid. In Tokyo, city of robots, they chose the robot maid.

Robo-geisha (as Roger inaccurately called it) had lifeless eyes and a fixed unsmiling face, but it was helpful, efficient and obeyed immediately. Roger thought its lack of expression was a general limitation of robots. But Danielle, who was generally sympathetic toward robots and computers, called robo-geisha 'she' not 'it'.

Robo-geisha shuffled around the room with dainty steps. It unpacked their bags, put away their clothes, offered to help them wash (which was declined) and, not being needed further, stood silently in the corner of the room, waiting until it could be useful again.

The hotel-manager gave excellent advice on where to eat and what part of the night-life to sample. His advice on site-seeing was skewed toward Danielle's desire to sample as much new technology as she could. Roger, of course, was interested in traditional Japan and historical Tokyo (of which there was little, except Shrines and Temples, that hadn't been rebuilt again and again). Thus they devoted the next three days to having fun in one of the most exciting cities on Earth.

The food was wonderful, as expected. The locals friendly and helpful. Most people spoke English: since Japan was affiliated to the Anglosphere, English was the language of commerce, science and international relations. They had no problem finding the tourist sites they wanted.

One highlight was on the afternoon of the second day, when they took a stroll through Akihabara, the technology district, so Danielle could have a good old geek-fest. The Nakatani Corporation, in a new building off the Boulevard, was more like an exhibition than a shop. Its flashing lights, its pretty greeters welcoming visitors and its promise of amazing new gadgets to play with brought customers by their thousands.

Danielle was at home here and even Roger, never one to take up an invention before it had been embedded in the culture for two-hundred years, was impressed by all the shiny gadgetry.

Holographic projectors beside the sales counters beamed adverts into the space directly in front of each customer. Danielle wiped them away with a wave of her hand as she approached the gaming zone, to immerse herself in the total-immersion computer games, leaving Roger to wander around on his own among the music-players, entertainment centres, communicators, cameras, vast display screens and electro-sporting goods.

None of these really interested him, however. Roger was drawn instead to the far end of the shop, where a troop of girls on a platform danced energetically to thumping pop-music under coloured strobe lighting. Though he didn't much like their style of dancing, which mixed jerky dance moves with ugly exercise moves - and he loathed the music - yet the girls were beautiful. They were athletic, flexible and seemed to be having genuine fun.

Roger watched the dancers for a while, as the crowds milled past. One dancer saw Roger admiring her and gave him a bright smile. When he smiled back she winked, which happened to be when Danielle found him and linked her arm in his.

"Darling," he said, "I know we've not been married long, but I have to leave you for a Japanese dancing girl."

"Oh! Which one?"

"Any of them, though the one nearest us just winked at me."

The same dancer span on a tip-toe, sending her short skirt flying up around her waist.

"Now she's showing me her panties," he added.

"Your problem, Roger, is you're too easily seduced. A big smile and a flash of knicker are enough to win you over."

"Nonsense! I recall we'd been dating at least a month before you showed me your panties."

"Well that's because I was well brought up. ... All right," Danielle kindly acquiesced. "I permit you one honeymoon fling - just so long as it's with a robot."

"A robot! Are these girls robots?"

"Of course. Didn't you know?"

"They're very lifelike."

"Humaniform robots are meant to be lifelike."

"Yes, but robo-geisha looks like a toy."

"I think that's deliberate, to cater for Western tastes. We're not used to perfectly life-like robots. Our robot servants look like vacuum cleaners with arms, not like people."

"Then I change my mind. I'll stick with my very non-robotic wife."

"Really, wouldn't you rather I was a robot? Then you could change my programming whenever you wanted - or replace my parts for better enhancements."

"No. I'd never change a single part of you, ever."

"That's sweet, Roger. ... Of course, I'd replace you with an android in a heart-beat."

Roger wisely ignored that crack.

"So how can you tell they're robots?" he asked.

"The girls must be super-athletes to dance like this for so long; but have you ever seen tits like those on a human athlete?"

The girls had big gravity-defying breasts that wobbled deliciously as they popped and gyrated on the stage.

"You know, I didn't even think of that," he admitted.

"Don't worry. You're a man. You'd have to stop drooling long enough to think."

"Come on," she added, pulling him by the arm. "Let's go upstairs."

"Are the games no good?"

"I couldn't get on them. It was too crowded."

"Pity. What's upstairs?"

"Industrial technology."

They took the lift up three storeys, past the home appliances, medical equipment and domestic transportation, to the top floor, which had trains, aeroplanes, ocean liners, air-shuttles, giant cranes, tunnelling machines, space-rigs and hyperspace beacons - if not the real-life items (because the shop was too small) then perfect scale models and holographic facsimiles.

Immediately in front of them when they stepped out of the lift was some familiar technology. A giant reinforced glass box contained riders on black cylinders who cavorted, gyrated and carelessly threw themselves about, bouncing harmlessly off each other and the walls.

"Air-jellies!" Roger said.

"Nakatani Engineering make them. Technically it's called Microwave Compressed-Air Technology. It has other applications, such as these ..."

Danielle led him beyond the air-jelly chamber to a row of upright cylinders, each about three feet across, reaching from floor to ceiling, with an oval aperture big enough to put an arm in. Forced air hissed around the cylinder, blowing warmly on the toes of those standing nearby. There was a green kettle weight on the floor, marked 'fifty kilograms'. Danielle waited her turn in the queue and then put her arm into a cylinder.

Dye had been added to the air for effect, so the compressed air around her forearm turned into a shimmering purple gauntlet. She grasped the fifty-kilo weight and threw it upward. The weight bounced on the top of the cylinder, thirty-feet above, and fell back. Danielle swiped her hand and caught it on the way down, holding it in an iron grip.

"Amazing," Roger said. "Just compressed air?"

"Go on, you try."

Roger had a go and was even more amazed. The microwave air-glove was instantly responsive to his movement, multiplying his strength dozens, maybe hundreds, of times.

"Can the air-glove be made into an entire suit that would work outside, like the air-jellies?" Roger asked.

"It can in principle, I think," Danielle answered cautiously, "but probably not in practise due to limits on miniaturisation and microwave power. The glove requires a constant supply of air and the air-jellies require external microwave beam-emitters."

"Do you know how they work?"

"Yes, it's simple technology. There are microwave emitters in this cylinder here and on buildings along the air-jelly routes. They beam microwaves that bounce off the skin or off the base-unit of the air-jelly. Where the waves are in phase, they compress the air, making a glove as strong as steel or the soft envelopes of the jellies."




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 15



"So if a suit requires a supply of compressed air, might it work if one jumped from an aeroplane or a high building?"

"Yes, that would work. We'd still need to miniaturise the beam emitters, of course, and attach a power-supply. ... I tell you what, husband, I'll work it out and build you a self-powering air-suit. We'll call it the 'Roger Harcourt Microwave Air-Suit'."

"I don't approve the name but I'll hold you to that, Darling," he said.

Danielle was sincere and she would have kept her word if something far more interesting hadn't diverted her attention, blanking her memory.

What caught her eye was an actual solid machine, not a model or hologram. At a distance, it looked like a standard hyperdrive engine: a fusion-powered fuel cell in front, a cone-shaped ion-drive in the middle tapering to a point. and the concentric ribs of a waveguide at the rear. Up close, however, there was little standard about this engine. Danielle had never seen anything quite like its waveguide.

"Come and look at this, Roger," she said.

"A fancy hyperdrive engine," he observed.

"I'm a little out of touch with hyperdrive technology"- her speciality was hyperspace pathways - "but I know enough to see there's real innovation going on here. The power seems to be focussed in the wrong place, around the waveguide, not in line with it."

"And that's good, is it?"

"It may be."

She beckoned one of the robot assistants, who glided over and politely bowed.

"Can you tell me about this engine, please?" Danielle asked.

"Yes, Madam."

The robot spoke English with a faint American accent.

"It's the Nakatani Corporation Hayai C1 prototype hyperdrive unit. A power-base for small to medium-size hyperspace traveller technology, giving unprecedented jump yields from standard fusion cell architecture."

It was meaningless sales blather.

"What can you tell me about how the machine works?" she asked.

"The Hayai C1 prototype utilizes the latest in concentric ring-pulse technology to stabilize the plume at unprecedented rates of transverse power. ..."

More babble. Danielle was unimpressed and waved the robot to silence.

She tried a few more questions and even found an English-speaking human to help her, but all she learned was that this prototype was on permanent exhibition here after passing all its field tests in a manner beyond expectations. It was unveiled a month ago by Mr. Nakatani himself.

"I'll have to get the information I want elsewhere but it's tantalizing," Danielle complained.

"It's similar in many ways to the engine we need for our Samothea Project. I wish I knew how it worked. Even so, it's giving me ideas, a different track from the one we've been following. I need to think about it. ..."

She was talking to herself as much as to Roger. Because he never interrupted her when she was deep in thought, she noticed his silence.

"All right, Darling," she said. "Geek-fest is over. It's time to do something you want. Where are you taking me tonight?"

"I get that. A wife's duty is to let her husband please her?"

"Exactly. Come on, what delights do you have for me?"

"Actually, I've booked two things. First, dinner, then a concert. Guess who's playing with the Tokyo Philharmonic tonight?"

"Tell me."

"Mercedes Sator."

Mercedes Sator was Roger's favourite violinist.

"How wonderful!" Danielle enthused. "What's she playing?"

"Sibelius' violin concerto."

"Interesting: a Japanese orchestra playing Scandinavian music. What will that be like?"

"It'll be good. There's a long history."

"You booked this before we left for Japan?"

"I did. Oddly, it's my last chance to hear her before she goes to Celetaris for three months."

"Well, it's an excellent idea. Let's go."

On the way to dinner by levitating ground car, Danielle consulted her pocket computer and dredged up some details of the Nakatani prototype engine. This got her brain going even faster. There was an insight, she knew, just out of her grasp.

Being well brought up, she put her computer away during dinner, but it was out again immediately afterward and evidently supplied her with some answers and a puzzle. She sat in the car on the way to the Shibuya district, and then in the Orchard Hall, where they took their seats twenty minutes early, tapping with her fingers, staring into space. As for Roger, he loved to see his wife think and, besides, a good dinner with plenty of warm sake left him comfortably relaxed.

The concert began and all through the overture, Danielle thought about her engine problem. Then it was the Sibelius and the famed soloist. A roar of applause welcomed Mercedes Sator onto the stage. An athletic and graceful figure, she wore a sheer black dress with no straps - for ease of performance as much as for glamour. Her blonde hair was pulled severely back and tied tightly. She wore no jewellery and little make-up. A look of unsmiling seriousness on her face as she bowed to acknowledge the audience suggested that this would be a performance to remember.

Immediately the first lonely aching notes of the violin filled the auditorium, Roger was spellbound, transported to the misty lakes and frozen pine-forests of Finland. It took Danielle longer to settle down. Her brain was still fizzing from the excitement of thinking about the hyperdrive engine; but when the virtuoso repeated the second theme, backed by the full warmth of the orchestra, it was like a sunrise over the tundra. Danielle felt a tingling in her spine and lost herself in the sumptuous music. She forgot to think about her engine. That was when her ideas began to fertilise themselves, combining and recombining in her subconscious as the music washed over her.

The applause at the end of the concerto lasted ten minutes, bringing beaming smiles from Miss Sator and showers of roses from the audience. The concert finished with Sibelius' fifth symphony, which was also a triumph.

Afterward, Danielle and Roger walked hand-in-hand back to their hotel, taking the moving pavement so they could smell the oily air and feel the buzz of the city. Danielle broke the comfortable silence to say only one thing:

"Darling, it was perfect!"

As they walked, the detailed memory of the concert faded into a dream, until only the feeling of serene joy remained. As the memory faded, Danielle's suppressed ideas began to bubble up. By the time they reached the hotel, she was again in the grip of her problem.

In the bedroom, Roger's expectations were firmly up. It was Saturday night after all; but Danielle pricked his bubble. She came out of the bathroom in a fluffy white robe, her hair tied up with a towel, a toothbrush in her mouth.

"Darling," she said, "I know it's our honeymoon and I know it's anal sex night but my head's buzzing with ideas for this engine. Do you mind if I try to write them down? I'll make it up to you in the morning."

"It's all right, Darling," Roger said, hiding his disappointment. "You do what you need to do."

"After all," she added, "it was you who said I won't remember things unless I write them down."

"True enough. You go ahead and work. I'll have sex with robo-geisha."

"All right, but don't wear her out. We need her to make us breakfast tomorrow."

She kissed him goodnight and sat in the bathroom, using her communicator to project a scribble board against the wall, sketching components and writing equations.

"No, no, I was joking," Roger said to robo-geisha, who had stepped out from its corner to ask him if he wanted her naked.

Roger realised that the robot had been designed to provide a very comprehensive range of services, including those that human maids generally don't provide. He wondered what the manager thought of them for requesting a robot, though they had not done so for its sexual functions.

Three hours later, Danielle had written down her idea, checked it twice and was at once relieved, happy and very horny, as she always was after hard mental exercise. She fetched something from her washing kit and returned in the dark to the bedroom, where she could hear Roger breathing. She thought for a second that she ought to let him sleep, but she decided against it, reasoning that, because she'd married such a forgiving soul, he couldn't practise the virtue of forgiveness unless she gave him something to forgive her for. Really, she was doing him a favour.

Danielle shook her husband awake, saying:

"Wake up, Roger. It's still anal sex night. Come on, husband, fuck me in the arse."

Roger was instantly awake. In fact, he'd only been dozing and quite expected to be disturbed sooner or later. He sat up, pulled her to him, and laid her on her back, but he didn't kiss her or suck her tits. He went straight for her pussy.

Only after Danielle was moaning hard and sopping wet - back arched, thighs shaking from an intense orgasm - did he kiss up her belly to her tits, working in the reverse direction from normal, ending up at her lips, where she could taste the savour of her pussy on his tongue.

Now it was time. He lifted her legs up so her ankles were beside her ears and held them there.

"Ready?" he asked.

"God, yes!"

"I need the lube."

"I brought it back from the bathroom. It was in my right hand."

He felt around the bed but she'd dropped the tube of lubrication a while ago. Now it was on the floor. He was going to get up to turn on the light but Danielle said:

"Robo-geisha can get it. She can see in the dark."

The cybernetic maid woke up and stepped toward the bed. It reached down and picked up the tube.

"Would you like me to apply it, Madam?" the robot asked.

"What?"

"I can apply the lubrication to your anus, Madam."

"Is she serious, Roger?"

"I think it's a good idea. Saves me moving."

"No, Darling! She's a robot!"

"It's a machine. You can ask it to do anything."

"Oh, God, Roger. I don't know."

"Let it try. It's no different using from a sex-toy."

"I suppose."

"Come on, Danielle. It's not like you to dislike machines."

"All right, all right. Go ahead."

"Apply the lube," Roger commanded the robot.

Robo-geisha squeezed out a slug of lubricant onto its fore-finger and warmed its hand internally, then it began to smear the lube around Danielle's tight hole, pressing lightly.

However uncomfortable Danielle was with a machine's intimate touch, the robot's tiny hands and delicate fingers were a real turn-on as they massaged her anus, working round and around.

"Oh, God! Oh, God! That's wonderful," she moaned.

The robot removed its fingers to apply more lube.

"No, don't stop," Danielle begged.

Robo-geisha rubbed lube on the palm of its other hand and began to work Danielle's tight hole again, pushing a tiny finger inside and rotating it.

"Oh, God!" Danielle said again, beginning to buck from the erotic action.

At the same time, robo-geisha began applying lube generously to Roger's cock. He stiffened:

"God, that's good!" he groaned.

"Roger!"

Danielle didn't think the robot should be servicing him as well, but her protest was cut short when robo-geisha pushed in two fingers and swivelled them around.

"Ahh! Oh God! Oh good God!"

Roger's cock was nicely lubricated so the robot concentrated on Danielle, massaging her perineum with the other hand as it pushed a third finger into her anus and lightly stretched its fingers.

"Oh my God!" Danielle exclaimed, then she came, thrusting involuntarily, swallowing all of robo-geisha's fingers into her hole, fucking herself on the robot's hand.

"Bloody hell!" she cried as she bucked hard, swallowing robo-geisha's hand up to the wrist.

"She's ready for you, Sir," robo-geisha said, pulling its hand slowly from Danielle backside.

"Fuck me!" Danielle exclaimed, breathing out heavily.

"Yes, Dear," Roger said. He lay on her, pushing his hard cock into her warmed-up arsehole and began thrusting slowly and carefully. Pretty soon, she was demanding faster and harder. He let her legs down and she crossed them over his back. He gripped her waist to fuck her harder. Danielle cried out for joy, moaning deeply.

In their passion, they didn't notice robo-geisha rinsing its hands in the bathroom and going back to its corner of the room, where it closed its eyes and went back into sleep-mode.

In the darkness, Danielle arched her back so far only the top of her head and her elbows touched the bed. As he thrust into her, Roger folded an arm around her thin waist and sucked hard on a tit. His other hand was on her pussy, rubbing her clitoris. She moaned wildly, then he stuffed two fingers into her snatch and got the right spot. That shut her up for a second; then it all erupted. She shrieked and came hard, shaking and squirming, muscles straining, heart pounding.

He kept up the stimulus on her g-spot and her clit with his fingers and thumb. She soon came again with another full-body shake; then she lay back, arms and legs spread wide, moaning with every thrust. Small ripples of leftover orgasm coursed around her body. She arched again and rose to another peak. He was nearing the end himself. He held her shoulders for the last few frantic thrusts and then it was all over. He kissed her hard as his throbbing cock shot spunk into her arse in nerve-shredding pulses.

Afterward, they lay together, warm, quiet and content, recovering from ecstatic peaks that were a fitting coda to a day of pleasure and discovery.

******

Early on Monday morning, they took the maglev train to Kyoto, then a ground car to their hotel in the cooler north of the city. Ordering the car to wait for them, they checked in. The manager bowed and asked whether they preferred a human maid or a robot maid. This time, in Kyoto, the city of temples, shrines and peaceful gardens, they preferred to be waited on by a real-life woman.

Her name was Aiko and she spoke perfect English in the pretty accent Japanese women have when they speak English well. She was an educated young woman, accomplished, elegant, meek and attentive. Dressed in Western clothes, she was not a traditional geiko but specialised in serving foreign guests. She wore a kimono only in the evening, when she served dinner and played music for her guests.

Aiko unpacked their bags while they washed and changed into more formal attire, despite the hot whether. On course to be twenty minutes early, Danielle and Roger took the ground car to the head offices of HyperStar Japan. Danielle remembered to send a message to say they were on their way. Even so, they urged the vehicle to go faster.

The ground car descended gently to the pavement from its ten-foot-high running level. Danielle and Roger got out at the street entrance to the HyperStar head office. A receptionist came to greet the visitors with a bow. As they returned the bow, someone cried out:

"Goldrick! I say, Goldrick!"

Danielle turned and saw Stephen Oakshott, her ex-boss, owner-manager of Oakshott Industries, the man who tethered Danielle to his company by paying her a retainer and sponsoring her PhD students. He was standing at the curb by his taxi.

"Stephen!" she cried and ran, arms outstretched, to hug him.

It was a girlish gesture he found utterly charming. Stephen warmly returned the hug and congratulated Danielle and Roger on their marriage.

"How did your wedding go?"

"It was perfect," she enthused.

"And how are you enjoying married life?"

"Oh golly! I can hardly tell you how wonderful it is!"

"I'm very pleased for you, Goldrick."

"Roger!" Danielle called to him. "Stephen's come all the way to Japan to congratulate us on our marriage."

Roger had been keeping a gentlemanly distance to allow his wife and her ex-boss to enjoy an intimate moment. Now he approached and Stephen grasped him in a firm two-handed shake.

"Congratulations, my boy!" Stephen said at his most avuncular, nearly shaking Roger's arm out of its socket. "I consider you the luckiest young man on Earth."

"Thank you, Sir. I think I'm the luckiest man in the whole galaxy."

"Well, if you must include the barbarian realms as well. ... Talking of which, I was relying on you to persuade Goldrick to stay here on Earth, where she can be useful."

"It was Goldrick who persuaded me that we'd both be more useful on Celetaris," Roger said.

"Our girl is very persuasive," Stephen agreed.

"Yes, Sir, she is."

"Come now, Roger, my lad. You know me well enough now to call me Stephen."

"Thank you, Stephen."

"And I suppose I've got to call Goldrick by a new name as well."

"Yes, you can call me 'Danielle'," she said.

"Certainly not. I call all my eggheads by their surnames."

Danielle was about to protest that she was no longer one of his eggheads, but she rather liked that he treated her as one of the lads.

"Should I call you 'Harcourt'?" Stephen enquired.

It was Roger who replied.

"I think Danielle would be pleased if you keep calling her 'Goldrick'. It's her professional name."

"'Goldrick' it is."

Another receptionist came out to greet Stephen. After bowing, the visitors were escorted inside and sent up in a lift to the top floor, where Ryota Miyazaki, Chairman and Founder of HyperStar Japan, waited to welcome his guests. He was accompanied by his chief engineer, Mr. Yamada.

Stephen Oakshott was visiting HyperStar Japan to discuss the business partnership with his company but he'd deliberately timed his visit to coincide with Danielle's. She was here to present her idea for a special kind of hyperspace drive. Introductions done and business cards exchanged (an amazing survival in these days of electronic communicators), the two chairmen sat in an office while Mr. Yamada took Danielle and Roger on a tour of the engineering department.

On the shop floor, Danielle met a team of five engine designers. After admiring their work, she explained the concept of what she called an 'inside-out' engine, a hyperspace drive that enhanced its own power with power from the beacon. She projected her calculations onto the wall with an outline of the engine's design.

Danielle was met with silence. Clearly, the Japanese engineers were too polite to say how incredulous they were. She found she had to hold up both sides of the conversation.

"Yes, I know that the engine requires us to communicate with the beacon through the plume;" she admitted, "and I know that everyone says communication through the plume is impossible; but my team and I think we've found a way. We've checked the calculations. It's theoretically possible. I just need to know if an engine of this type can be built."

Still the men were silent. They waited for Mr. Yamada to let Danielle down lightly - all except one, a young engineer called Haruki, who looked like he had something to say.

Haruki looked over at the chief engineer, who was studying the calculations a second time, and waited. Mr. Yamada breathed out and said:

"I find no errors in the calculations."

Emboldened, Haruki said:

"I think the calculations are correct and I can see how an engine like this might work in theory but I don't know if it can be built."

With general agreement that the calculations were correct but the engine would not work, the discussion became two-sided and the engineers began filling in Danielle's outline, adding and replacing components, treating it as a theoretical exercise.

Haruki became Danielle's champion, emphasising everything positive about her engine and, with the implicit approval of Mr. Yamada, trying to find ways to work around its problems.

It was Haruki who commented on the most novel feature of the waveguide and wondered how Danielle had thought of it.

"I stole it," she said, and was again met with uncomprehending silence, plus shock.

"I mean I was inspired by something I saw yesterday on a Nakatani Corporation engine," she corrected.

"Ah, the Speedy C1," Haruki said. "It works in a different way from your design."




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 15



An hour later, the team's deliberations were interrupted by a message inviting Danielle and Roger for refreshments on the top floor.

Tea with Mr. Miyazaki, Mr. Yamada and Stephen Oakshott was a great success. With only a little prodding from Stephen, and a message to the legal department to check that Danielle's design would not impinge on the copyright of Nakatani Corporation, Mr. Miyazaki committed HyperStar Japan to investigating the possibility of making Danielle's engine. It would be a worthwhile side-project in itself and, if it worked, may produce a lucrative return. With smiles and bows, the visitors took their leave.

Outside, satisfied beyond her expectation, Danielle hugged Stephen again.

"Thank you," she gushed.

"No need for thanks, Goldrick. It's an investment that I expect to pay off handsomely. I'm trusting you. ... Now, what are you doing for the rest of the day?"

"We have no plans."

"Then let's go site-seeing together. My flight home isn't until this evening."

They summoned a ground car and became tourists. Like all visitors to Kyoto, they were awed by the impressive castle of the Shogun warriors with its beautiful gardens; then they were enchanted by the serenity and perfection of a Shinto shrine that covered an entire hill-top.

Saying goodbye to Stephen as he headed home, they returned to their hotel, where the maid, Aiko, advised them to eat dinner there, so she could wait on them. They could eat in their room or with other guests in a communal room, where all the maids would play their instruments and dance for them after dinner.

Tired from walking around and interested in the communal dinner, they agreed to stay in the hotel and be waited on in a traditional manner. Aiko bowed and requested permission to help them undress. There was no shame in the procedure. She began with Roger and when he was naked, helped Danielle off with her grey business suit.

Aiko herself stripped down to a white slip and led them to the plunge pool next to their bedroom. She entered the pool first and invited them in, where she washed them with a kind of loofah.

The water made Aiko's slip see-through. Roger carefully avoided looking at her but Danielle happily admired their pretty maid's short curvy figure as she scrubbed Roger. Never one to deny the beauty of other women, Danielle thought Aiko's small breasts with perky brown nipples pressing through the thin fabric were beautiful. A triangle of thick black pubic hair was visible through the slip, which formed a curtain over her thighs.

After drying her guests with towels, Aiko helped them into comfortable robes and went to dress herself with the other maids. In a large room with wooden floors and rice-paper walls over bamboo lattice, Danielle and Roger joined the other Western guests seated on cushions on the floor around low dining tables. Simply made up and in gorgeous kimonos, the maids entered, playing their instruments, singing a traditional song. Two of the maids danced.

After singing and dancing, the maids left their instruments and catered to their guests, bringing out the dishes and sitting down at the table to fill and refill the plates. Danielle and Roger were hungry and ate everything Aiko served them, trying not to gulp the food down too greedily. She was impressed that they understood Japanese customs so well as to finish their plates.

"Leaving food is an insult to the chef," she explained.

"No chance of that," Danielle said, gamely endeavouring to transport a generous portion of delicious fried seaweed to her mouth with her chopsticks.

Aiko politely took Danielle's hand and gently guided her to a better way of holding the chopsticks. It wasn't so difficult and she soon got the hang of it. There was no hope for Roger, however, who ignored etiquette by using his soup spoon to eat his dinner, pushing the food onto the bowl of the spoon with the fat ends of his chopsticks.

The meal was exquisite and they were enchanted by the musical entertainment of the maids, who sang and danced prettily while their guests sat comfortably. The whole evening was a delight; so a replete and happy couple of honeymooners thanked Aiko effusively and persuaded her that, though it was traditional to bathe after dinner, they felt completely clean and were too full. She made their bed and wished them a good night's sleep.

They sank into the futon and held one another.

"Monday night, Darling. What kind of sex do we have on Mondays?" Danielle asked.

"The ordinary kind, I'm think, Sweetheart, except that I'm too full for any kind of sex."

"I can't believe you're neglecting your new wife less than a week into our honeymoon!"

"I can't move."

"It's your fault for being so greedy."

"I didn't see you stinting."

"I was being polite."

"It's not bad manners to refuse a fifth plate of sashimi."

"Oh, God! It was so delicious," Danielle enthused. "I'm going to taste it for ages."

"You're right. It was amazing. So which is better, food or sex?"

"Mmm? Right now, I'd struggle to choose between them. What do you say?"

"Sex with you is better than any kind of food."

"Flatterer! You have to say that to your wife."

"I'd say it to any woman."

"You better not!"

He laughed.

"I'm serious. Loving you is more harmonious than any music, more exalting than any shrine and more nourishing than any food."

"I don't know what that means but it's beautiful."

"It means you'll always be my highest ideal and greatest pleasure."

"Hmm!" she snuggled closer to him.

"I love you, husband."

"I love you too, wife. And I've remembered now that Monday night is 'woman on top' night."

"Your memory is very convenient for you."

"Isn't it?"

"All right, but don't blame me if I squash you flat. I must weigh a ton after all that dinner you made me eat."

She climbed on him and planted her mouth on his. They clasped hands together, fingers intertwined, just kissing, too full for further action at the moment.

But as their dinners went down, so their appetites for sex went up and pretty soon both were horny. Danielle moved down his body to take his cock in her mouth. He was hard already and she made the most of it, licking around the head before taking it into her mouth with a light suction.

She went slowly, taking in a mouthful and then pulling back with a soft suction, working gradually further and sucking gradually harder. Danielle was a very good cock-sucker and knew how to keep Roger on the boil for ages. She massaged his balls and changed her style, licking sideways up and down the shaft.

When he was groaning nicely, Danielle span around and knelt over his head. His tongue in her pussy worked her up so strongly that she forgot the weight of food in her belly and began to grind her pelvis onto his face. Roger alternated sucking on her clitoris with long succulent licks along her pussy. After some time, he added an exploratory finger, teasing on tendons and muscles, feeling as far into her vagina as he could, finding the a-spot, which he fingered, triggering a gush of dampness and a happy moan.

They kept in this position all the way to the end. Roger's insistent fingering brought Danielle off with shudder, spraying her sweet juice on his face. Not long afterward, her work on his cock brought him off, splurging his seed into her bobbing mouth.

******

On their last day in Japan, Danielle and Roger met Itsuki Takahashi at the great entrance gate to the Nanzen-ji Temple.

He was a thin young man with a slightly nervous look, perhaps because he was carrying a heavier burden than was his due. He made a polite bow and then shook hands with them in the Western fashion, asking them how they were enjoying their visit to Japan and what they thought of Kyoto.

Pleased by their praise of his city, Itsuki guided them through the serene temple and, afterward, they sat in the garden to talk about Yumi.

"She's my older sister by two years," Itsuki said. "She studied Hyperspace Engineering at Kyoto University. I'm there now studying Computer Science. After University, she took a job with the Nakatani Corporation in their engineering department, working on hyperspace drives."

"We visited the Nakatani Corporation exhibition in Tokyo," Roger said. "We saw their new prototype engine."

"Ah, the Hayei C1. Yumi worked on that engine in a small way. She helped model its wave-guide before it went out for space tests."

"That's a coincidence," Roger said, proud of his brilliant wife. "The same engine inspired Danielle to change the design for her own engine."

"You're a hyperspace engineer as well?" Itsuki asked.

"Hyperspace pathways is my speciality, not engines," Danielle said modestly. "But how does Yumi's education and profession relate to our problem?"

"They're relevant because Yumi fell in love with someone at university, a fellow student. It's because of him that she ran away."

"Go on, Itsuki," Danielle said, "tell us the whole story."

"Her lover was Michio Nakatani, son of the Chairman of the Nakatani Corporation. That's why she went to work for Nakatani Engineering, so she could be near him. Michio and she loved each other, or so Yumi thought; but maybe Michio didn't love her as much as she loved him."

"I have to explain: my family are humble folk. Mr. Nakatani wanted Michio to marry someone of his own class, the daughter of an industrialist whose company Nakatani was courting. Their marriage would unite the two families and complete the merger of their companies. Michio refused to marry her, though she was beautiful and stylish; but he gave his father no reason and never told him about Yumi. He knew that, even if the alliance failed, Yumi would still be too poor and humble for his father: Mr. Nakatani would see to it that they were never together."

"They decided to run away. They would go to one of the outworld settlements and start a new life. It wasn't a fantasy: millions of people have done it."

"Yumi spent her savings on a ticket to Capella. She went there to wait for Michio. His own wealth is tied up in the company. He needed to release it and then he would follow her."

"Michio never left Earth and his communications to me were being monitored. I could tell. I'm good with computer security. I got messages to him without being snooped on. He told me his father had frozen his bank account and prevented him selling his shares. Also, his communications to Yumi were blocked: he hadn't heard from her since she left Earth and he couldn't send her any money. He thought his father knew about Yumi."

"I told Michio I would convey messages to her for him and he said he'd be in touch again. I never heard from him since."

"At first, I was in touch with Yumi while she was on Capella, then our communications ended. Perhaps she left Capella, or perhaps she just stopped answering my messages."

"I wanted to go to her but I've no money and I have classes. Besides, I don't know if she's on Capella or not."

"Yumi asked me never to tell our father about the love-affair or where she really went. After a month, he had the police issue a missing person's report but it got quashed. My father doesn't understand why the police won't investigate and they won't tell him, but I think it's Mr. Nakatani's influence."

"Is that everything?" Danielle asked.

"No, there's one more thing. About two days after Yumi arrived on Capella, there was a news item. It was announced that Michio Nakatani was engaged to the heiress of a rival industrial firm and it had a photo of Michio in evening dress escorting his fiancé to dinner, surrounded by their parents, with reports of the merger being finalised."

"I'm sure Yumi must have seen the story, even on Capella, because it made the front pages of the financial news as well as the society news in Japan. Also, that was the last day I heard from her."

"That's everything I know," Itsuki said, sounding relieved that he could at last tell someone.

"We can help," Danielle said. "Roger and have a twenty-four hour stop-over in Capella on our way to Celetaris. We can try to find Yumi and, if she's not there, we can try to learn where she's gone."

"We will always be grateful to you," Itsuki said. "If you are willing to act as agents for our family, I've brought a document giving you power of attorney over Yumi. I got my father to sign it when we talked to a private investigator but we couldn't afford his fees. It will allow you custody of her ..."

Itsuki found he couldn't say the word 'remains'.

"... of anything of hers if they're in the hands of the police or a coroner."

"It won't come to that, Itsuki, I'm sure," Danielle said softly. "We will find Yumi for you."

"Certainly," said Roger. "Don't give up hope. We'll do our best."

"Thank you," Itsuki said, feeling more confident than he had for a year. "I'm sending you the document."

He typed on his communicator and Danielle received a dual-language document with Hayate Takahashi's ID stamp. Itsuki was relieved when Danielle put her own ID stamp on the document.

"I have to go," he said, checking the time. "I have a class soon. Thank you for seeing me and for all you're doing for Yumi."

He shook hands with them, bowed, retreated, bowed again, turned and ran off.

Danielle and Roger remained on the bench for a few minutes, silently mulling over the information, taking it all in. Then Roger said:

"Darling, do you ever get the feeling that you're just a character in a novel?"

"No. Why do you ask?"

"I mean the coincidences. Yumi works on the hyperdrive engine that inspires your own engine. Then she meets your brother on Capella and they both go missing. It's as if a narrator is moving pieces across a chess-board."

"I think that, if we were characters in a novel, then you'd be the hero and I'd be your glamorous sidekick who always gets herself kidnapped so you have to save her at the last minute."

"Nonsense! If it were a novel, you'd be the heroine and I'd be the straight man, who feeds you lines to highlight your brilliance."

"Now that's nonsense! In fact, we'd probably both be peripheral characters, put in to add colour or with a minor but important function."

"You'd always be a pivotal character, Danielle," Roger insisted. "I'm just here for exposition."

She smiled at that image and didn't respond. Instead she asked:

"What shall we do now? We have hours before our flight goes."

"More shrines, temples and gardens; or are you hungry?"

"Hungry, after last night? No. I think one more shrine and then a long stroll in a garden."

3 Danielle's speech

After walking around a temple with a handsome pavilion and a water garden, they sat in the shade of a willow, enjoying the scent of blossom and the gurgle of a stream that was said never to have dried up. Small birds chirruped in the trees. The whoosh and clomp of a cleaner's brush sweeping dust from the stone steps up to the temple was a pleasant continuo accompaniment.

Danielle's communicator buzzed. She'd forgotten to silence it. Thinking it was Itsuki with something he'd forgotten to say, she checked the message.

"Oh, it's from Jonathan. He sends us belated congratulations: he's only just heard about our marriage."

"Who's Jonathan?" Roger asked.

"Jonathan Wright, an old friend from university."

"Old friend, eh?"

"No he wasn't and no it won't."

"What?"

"No he wasn't my boyfriend and no it won't be awkward when I invite him to join the Samothea Project. Assuming he's free, he's exactly the man we need to configure the beacon."

"Darling, aren't you getting ahead of yourself? At the moment, the Samothea Project is just you and some students. It's a little precipitate to recruit an old boyfriend."

"A-ha! I knew you were jealous. Don't worry, Jonathan and I went out a few times but there was nothing serious between us."

"I'm not jealous."

"There's no need to be, Darling: he wasn't as good in bed as you."

"Danielle!"

She laughed.

"I'm joking, I'm joking ... he was much better than you. And he had an enormous d..."

She stopped.

"An enormous 'd'?" he asked.

"Diaphragm."

"Really, that was the word on the tip of your tongue?"

"It's your fault, Roger," she pouted. "You were supposed to interrupt me. You spoiled the joke on purpose."

"I apologise. Go on with your tease."

"No. The moment's gone. I'll just have to get back at you another way. As for Jonathan, he was as much a rival as a friend and colleague: we vied for top place in the department. I won, of course."

"I'd be surprised if you hadn't."

"It's a shame you won't be jealous, though. I've never had two men fighting over me. I always imagined it would be a turn on."

"Tell me about your rivalry. It sounds as though there's a story there."

"There is a story but it's a long one and involves a curious event that made me change my mind on an important topic. Do you really want the whole story?"

"Yes."

"All right. It begins with a confession, which is that I once belonged to a feminist society."

"You make it sound like you joined one of those demented religious cults."

"Didn't I? I had a single ready-made answer for everything - the patriarchal conspiracy - and a convenient scapegoat to blame - all men. I had a set of pre-packaged arguments and a fool-proof way of avoiding having to answer criticism (that is, anyone who disagrees with a feminist is a chauvinist). It sounds like a demented cult to me."

"But I'm a feminist," Roger protested.

"No you're not, Darling," Danielle was unimpressed. "You pretended to be one because you thought it would help you get into women's knickers."

"Well, that plan didn't work, then."

"Of course not. Women prefer manly men, not antiseptic ones."

"Is that why you married an effete academic?"

"Manliness is not measured in muscles and aggression, as you well know, husband, but in the quiet strength men have more than women. Manly men are firm, solid, reliable and chivalrous, especially chivalrous. You're the most chivalrous man I know."

"I'm sure I'm not such a paragon."

"Don't worry, you will be when I'm done with you. No man is perfect until a woman has licked him into shape, as my mother says. ... And if you won't take a compliment, then you'll agree my Dad is very manly but I've never once heard him raise his voice in anger. Real manliness is moral certainty, confidence, dependability, courage."

"Women have all those virtues," Roger said.

"We do, but less so than men; that's why we admire men and look up to them. Women specialise in different virtues: endurance, resilience, loyalty, putting up with pain and loss, making the best of a bad thing. It's the difference between us that makes us compatible."

"Well that's an interesting philosophy."

"Besides," she continued, "now you've got me, you don't need to pretend to be a feminist any more. You can get into my knickers any time you want."

"All right, I surrender, I'm convinced," he said.

"Good. I'll continue with my story, which has both muscles and chivalry in it."

"I'm listening. I love your stories - though they rarely reach an end and never go by the shortest route."

She laughed.

"I'm a woman. Being direct is a manly virtue."

"So," she went on, "although my flirtation with feminism didn't last long, and I never took it too seriously, at the time I did my doctorate, I was a paid-up member of the cult and my friend Eva Welwyn was one of its leaders."

"As you know, I finished my doctorate six years ago at Caltech, where they had an excellent post-doctorate program. In conjunction with some other universities, a team of post-docs would collaborate on a project for three-quarters of their time and teach for the other quarter. It was ideal for me, I thought, so I asked my supervisor to propose me for the program."

"He advised me not to bother, saying I wasn't suited to that kind of work, that I wouldn't fit into the team. He was quite explicit: he said I wasn't the right man for the role."




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 15



"He actually said 'man'?" Roger was shocked.

"Oh, yes. He repeated it because I asked him who would be a good candidate and he said 'Jonathan Wright is the best man for the job'."

"Jonathan and I had collaborated on a project, though we had completely different methods of working. Jonathan was fastidious, precise and clinical. To write a paper, he would sit in his chair and think; then he would dictate the paper fluently from beginning to end. Afterward, he would check it over, make a few minor changes and the result would be perfect."

"As you know, I'm the opposite. I start off with a blank page and write down my ideas as they come; but they come in the most haphazard and idiotic order. I start somewhere in the middle and then work a little forward, then I leap backward and the paper looks like a jumbled mess until, near the end, when it all comes into focus. I love that feeling, of order emerging from chaos. I also think my wild way of working produces new ideas because I see links that I wouldn't see if my ideas ran on rails."

"Anyway, the post-doc position depended on results, not on conforming to any particular method, and my results were better than Jonathan's. I pointed this out but my supervisor still insisted I wouldn't fit into the program, so it was a waste of time my applying."

"What did you do?"

"I applied, of course."

"That's my girl!"

"I also had a rant to Eva, who offered to mobilise the sisterhood on my behalf, but I declined. I could fix the problem myself."

"It turned out that Jonathan and I were the only two candidates of that year's intake to make it to the interview stage. I prepared for the interview by studying what the team were working on and speaking to a couple of team-members until I knew the subject inside out."

"When the date for the interview was published, I learned that my supervisor was leading the panel of examiners. That was unusual."

"It was very unusual," Roger agreed. "So, tell me, who was your supervisor?"

"Professor Jakovs."

"Hendrik Jakovs? The man who recommended you for the academic position on Celetaris? The man you're now going to work with?"

"The very man."

"What changed his mind?"

"You mean, why is he recommending me for an academic position now though he refused six years ago? I guess because he's seen my work. And, of course, he was right all along. He knew I needed to make an impact first, then I could go into teaching with some real-life experience. But we're getting ahead of ourselves."

"Professor Jakovs offered to recuse himself," Danielle continued, "but I told him I trusted him to be fair. Then came the examination and it was the hardest test of my career. There were three examiners, all men: Professor Jakovs, a man from Harvard and a man from Oxford. The other two barely spoke. In fact, the Harvard man looked at his computer the whole time."

"It was Professor Jakovs who did the interview, and he was the most ruthless questioner I've ever met. All my preparation was useless. He asked me nothing about the project the team were working on but launched into the most complex subjects at the cutting-edge of science. He demanded I do huge calculations and solve equations in my head."

"One of the equations was so monstrous that I asked for a computer and was told to make a guess. I did guess and they only nodded, except for the Harvard man who tapped away. A few minutes after I'd solved the equation he looked up and said: 'Only 2% out, not bad.' Then he went back to tapping on his computer."

"That was the high point. As the difficult questions flowed, I got angry. Anger actually helped me. It made me try harder. You know I like a challenge. I like a challenge even more when I'm being pushed, and Hendrik Jakovs was pushing me hard."

"At the end of the grilling, I was relieved but what made me angry again was the calm way that they simply said 'Thank you' and dismissed me, as if it had been a normal examination. They must have known it was an extraordinary performance."

"Anyway, I meekly left; but I was really fuming an hour later when I met Jonathan and learned that he'd sailed through his examination. He answered a few easy questions and then had a long chat about how the team worked and what he hoped to gain from the next few years."

"When Professor Jakovs told me that they'd selected Jonathan, I asked him point blank if I ever had a chance. 'No', he said, and repeated what he said before: I wasn't the right man for the job."

"I needed to vent, so I ranted to Eva again. She insisted we make a stink about it and, having refused before, I now went along with it. It seemed no coincidence that all the members of the selection committee and the project-team were men. A couple of days later, I got three job offers. They were all industry jobs. All of them cutting-edge science and engineering. All of them really well-paid with sweeteners.

The most curious one was from Oakshott Industries. It had the lowest salary and wasn't that specific about the work but it contained the equation I had tried to work out in my head during the examination. Beside the equation, Stephen Oakshott had written:"

"Dear Goldrick, if you got this equation right to 2% just in your head, under stressful conditions, then you're perfect for us. We can give you harder tasks under worse conditions and a sense of satisfaction limited only by your ambition."

"That got me: it was a challenge. I told my feminist friends to drop the case: I was leaving Caltech and going to work in Cambridge. I left without saying goodbye to either Professor Jakovs or Jonathan."

"It was a few months later, after I'd settled into my new job, learning the ropes as the only female engineer in my department, revelling in the difference between the commercial world and the academic world, that I asked Stephen why he made me the job offer. He said that the Oxford man at my examination was his recruiter. He made the recommendation; but it was Professor Jakovs who had sent in my CV a month previously."

"I was surprised but I realised that Professor Jakovs had been right all along. I was better suited to an industry job, with its high pressure deadlines and need to balance the books, while Jonathan was better suited to open-ended academic research and teaching. Of course, the way Professor Jakovs had said it was deliberately designed to rile a young and doctrinaire feminist."

"I also realised that, in the examination, Professor Jakovs asked such difficult questions because he was showing me off to the other judges."

"So, a year after I joined Oakshott Industries, I was a team-leader and we were bidding for a contract to work on part of the Beltway Hyperspace Project. A year later, we won the contract with an innovative design for the hyperspace junctions. I won an industry award for that work and both my career and Oakshott Industries took off. A year after that, I was back at Caltech, invited to the 'Women in Science' conference as a guest-speaker."

"Eva Welwyn was now head of the Women's Studies department. She invited six women who were at the top of their fields or in the news (as I was) to speak on their experience of sexual inequality in science. She acted as moderator and introduced each speaker. The hall was packed and the front rows were stuffed with big-wigs from the universities, as many men as women. The men sat there beaming with smug self-congratulation."

"Almost all the speakers wore the standard feminist uniform of a blue or grey trouser-suit (we can't be seen in skirts or girly colours) and high heels. We also spent hours on our makeup and hair. We told each other we were doing it to 'empower' ourselves, not for the sake of men."

"The exception was the woman next to me. A pleasant middle-aged lady with grey hair in a bob, a tweed jacket, tweed skirt and comfortable shoes. Her half-moon glasses on a string around her neck made her look like a traditional English school-marm; but she was the only one of us who was truly empowered. She dressed to please herself and didn't care what anyone thought, neither men nor the sisterhood; and she brought her knitting in her handbag for when she got bored."

"Eva introduced the first speaker, a sociologist who gave an over-view of the problem, using the standard data that had been the same for centuries: only 20% of all scientists are women; fewer than 10% in the hard sciences; only 6% of mechanical engineers are women; and fewer than 3% of mathematicians. It was the usual stuff with the usual interpretation: the cause was bigotry and favouritism by the male establishment and the only answer was quotas and special help for girls."

"I had a difficulty because that was more or less what my speech said. I'd looked up the statistics and written about breaking down prejudice and not wasting the abilities of women. When the second speaker said the same thing, with the variation that she was an economist not a sociologist, I knew I had to modify my speech. So I began to think about the statistics, to drill down into their sources and analyse the underlying cause of the sexual disparity."

"You know I'm good at that kind of analysis and pretty soon I realised that the standard feminist interpretation was unnecessary. Three years before, I might have somnolently accepted the guff about prejudice and barriers, but working in the real world had taught me differently. As the speeches went on, I unpicked the arguments and proposed alternative interpretations."

"I'm not saying there's no prejudice, nor denying an old-boy's network or inbuilt advantages. I'm saying that prejudice need not be the exclusive explanation for different outcomes between the sexes. For example, maybe few women want to be engineers because it still can be dirty and dangerous work. Or maybe men are naturally better at maths and physics, whereas women are better as psychology and the humanities."

"Maybe there are cultural reasons why women don't go into science that have more to do with money and social prestige than sex. Maybe, because girls develop sexually earlier than boys, at the age when brains ought to be crammed with maths and science, girls are distracted by raging hormones but boys have another year or two of equilibrium. Maybe women hold other women back by disparaging science-minded students as unpopular 'geeks' and 'nerds' in an academic environment where girls are far more conformist than boys."

"While I pondered these ideas and reconstructed my speech, I kept an ear out for what the speakers were saying. It was Eva talking now and she was telling the story of a friend of hers who had been unfairly passed over for a prestigious position. Even though she had out-performed a man in all tests, the man had been chosen ahead of her only because he had testicles."

"As Eva was telling this story, and the audience (including me) was feeling a vicarious sense of injustice for the poor mistreated victim, I noticed Jonathan in the audience a few rows from the front. I saw him catch my eye and gave him a little wave and a big smile. His face went bright red and he looked down. It was then that I realised what I'd been listening to. Eva was telling my story and I'd waved and smiled at Jonathan just as he'd been accused of undeservedly taking my rightful place. It looked to him like I was smugly rubbing it in that I'd come back in triumph."

"Eva finished her introduction and, as the audience clapped to welcome me to the podium, Jonathan - horribly embarrassed - got up and made his way to the exit. I was ashamed. I grabbed my communicator and sent him a message, asking him not to leave, telling him it was a misunderstanding and that I'd put it right. I was relieved when I saw him read the message. He stopped at the door, turned and waited. I smiled at him again and launched into my speech."

"I'm afraid I lost Eva's friendship that day. I began by briefly telling the true story of the post-doc competition, adding that the right man got the job, fairly and squarely. Then I began to tear apart the standard feminist explanation for why there are fewer women in maths, science and engineering than men. I may have gone a little too far the other way, saying that five centuries of encouragement for girls to study the hard sciences hasn't made the slightest but of difference, so we should conclude that most girls just don't want to."

"I also said it was significant that nearly half of students in the soft sciences are women but less than a tenth in the hard sciences, which even suggests that most girls are just not up to it."

"The audience were not thrilled by my speech: the men in the front row were even more outraged than the women. If my last comment caused a few disapproving noises, my next remark caused howls. I said that some of the soft sciences - such as sociology and political economy - shouldn't be called sciences at all, and that the softest of all soft sciences was women's studies."

"Having dropped a cat among the pigeons, I went back to my seat. But before I got there, my grey-haired neighbour got up and said to me: 'That needed to be said, young lady, but it was all negative. Now give us the positive: tell us what it's like being a woman in science.'"

"She was right. I'd forgotten my purpose, which was to encourage girls to study science, so I went back and in my remaining time described what it was like to be the only woman in a department of male engineers and astrophysicists."

"What is it like?" Roger asked, knowing the answer.

"It's brilliant! It's not always perfect, of course. Men can be childish and competitive; but women can be bitchy and back-stabbing. In general, I'd rather work with men. It may be different in science and engineering because, if there's one woman in the team, she tends to become team-leader, perhaps because it quells arguments between the men."

"There's also old-fashioned condescending patronizing chivalry - which I love. In our office, as the only woman, I get a bathroom all to myself. It's even better when we're on an engineering rig somewhere out in space and I'm the only woman among a dozen men. I didn't give all the details in my speech but I gave them the gist."

"So tell me the details," Roger said.

"Well, the riggers are big brawny men, tough men, doing jobs even robots can't do. They work hard, swear furiously and sometimes fight among themselves but the swearing and rough-housing stops when I'm on site. And, as you'd expect, I'm treated like royalty."

"On my the first trip to a space-rig, the living quarters had two bathrooms and two dormitories for twelve guys, so I entirely expected to bunk up with them and share the bathroom. They wouldn't allow it but moved the beds around and squashed themselves in so I had a room to myself. They also insisted I use one of the bathrooms exclusively. I was grateful for that when I saw how dirty men can be without women to civilise them. It took the robots hours to clean it before I could use it."

"Some of the younger men complained about me getting special treatment but an older man said 'Get married and you'll change your mind. I wouldn't want my wife or daughter to share a bathroom with you filthy apes!' So that was that."

"When we went to a base for supplies or a break, I got escorted wherever I go like a precious cargo. Some of the bases are frontier settlements and conditions are pretty rough but there's no real danger and, anyway, I didn't really need their protection, but the guys enjoyed being my honour-guard."

"Feminists say I should object when men treat me as a weak and feeble woman or expect me to act like a lady in return, but the space-rigs are dangerous places and the men have evolved a system of rules that works for them. I was only a temporary visitor, so I went along with it. Besides, I like having men stand up when I enter a room and open doors for me. They don't really think I'm weak and feeble. It's a game more than anything."

"Are you sure your looks had nothing to do with their chivalry?"

"Of course I'm sure. In the first place, I'm not that good-looking."

Roger's protests were not just gallantry.

"In the second place, every woman was treated that way, regardless of her age or looks.

"I see," Roger said. "So how are men at taking orders from you?"

"Completely professional. In science and businesses, at least, I've never found sex to make a difference."

"All right, my 'weak and feeble woman'. You know you're quoting Queen Elizabeth the First?"

"Oh, yes. I listen to you sometimes."

She went on: "I ended my speech by saying that those who most encouraged me to be an astrophysicist were my brother, my father, my university physics lecturer, professor Hendrik and Stephen Oakshott - all men; and the only one who tried to discourage me was my mother, who wanted me to be a concert pianist or an equestrian."

"So, that's the story of how I stopped being a feminist; and the best thing was, I got hundred of messages from girls saying that I inspired them to study science. It was very gratifying."

"It's a good story, but is that everything? Who was the grey-haired woman?"

"Ah! I forgot to tell you. Can you guess? She's a mathematician, not only the top of her field but almost the only woman in her field."

"Dorothy Martlebury."

"Exactly. Dot Martlebury, who's going to Celetaris to teach programmable maths to young Herman, among others."

"How did her speech go down? I don't imagine she's a radical feminist."

"No, Dot isn't a feminist at all. She was there to encourage girls to go into maths. She thinks the main problem is not male dominance but female peer-pressure."

"Dot endorsed my analysis of the statistics and added a few choice observations of her own. For instance, she skewered the smug men in the front row by saying how she'd gone to meetings about discrimination against women in science and the men there had been so satisfied by their own progressive virtues that they hogged the platform and didn't allow any of the women to speak."

Roger laughed.

"There was also something you said about Hendrik Jakovs deliberately baiting you as a feminist. Why was that?" he asked.

"Ah, yes. That's one of the ironies of the story. You see, although Professor Jakovs understood my skills and preferences better than me, and he went out of his way to find me three good job-offers, yet he's actually the most dreadful old misogynist."

"He is?"

"Absolutely. He hates women, especially when we're outside our proper settings of the kitchen or the bedroom. He's not an ordinary chauvinist, however. He doesn't think women are mentally inferior: we're just emotionally weak. He has a morbid fear of human sentiment, especially a crying child or a distraught woman. I've seen him cross the street rather than meet a student who'd just broken up with her boyfriend and might have needed comforting."

"He's quite comical sometimes. As a professor, he's concerned with more than a student's academic performance: some students also need personal advice. If a female student comes to him for comfort or reassurance, however, you could see him become edgy and start to fidget. Eventually he would persuade her to speak to a counsellor or he would make an excuse and leave the room, never to return."

"As his PhD student, I eventually looked after all his female under-graduates."

"So why did he invite you to Celetaris, rather than a man?" Roger wondered.

"As I say, he's seen my work. And, also, I'm not one of those needy women he despises, so he can treat me as a brain, not as a bag of emotions."

"So what happened with your feminist friend?"

"I took Eva to dinner, to apologise, but we ended up having a big row. She objected more to what I said about women's studies than what I said about feminism. I agree I'm prejudiced against the soft sciences. It goes with the territory. We have a saying: 'There's only one science - physics - everything else is social work.'"




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 16



Author's note:

We are back on Samothea, carrying on the story from the end of chapter 14, when Yumi was successfully revived.

For this chapter, recall that Tamar and Yael are the same person (Yael was Tamar's birth-name: Tamar is her Herder name) and that Wildchild and Samothea are the same person (Wildchild was Ezra's nickname for the girl who kept her name secret).

*****

1

Yumi woke up in the night, disorientated and scared. Memories criss-crossed in her mind: Earth - Capella - the emergency on Ezra's ship - being revived. She clung to Ezra, the only fixed point she knew.

"It's all right, Yumi," he said, shaken awake by her cries. "You're on Samothea. You're safe."

He put his arm around her and held her as she breathed rapidly, shaking from her night-terrors. The crashing rain made the tent-roof dip. Water ran in torrents down its sides. Yumi shivered again.

"You're safe," he repeated.

She rested her head on his chest and began to breathe normally. She was soon asleep again and, finally, Ezra nodded also off.

When Yumi woke again, it was early morning. Her head was clear. She remembered where she was and who Ezra was. She even remembered Dagma, who slept on the other side of Ezra during the surprisingly cold wet night. Weak but not tired, Yumi thought she'd slept enough in the last year. She resolved to spend all day breathing fresh air as deeply as she could and standing upright for as long as she was able.

Dagma also got up. She helped Yumi with a supporting arm at their morning ablutions. When they were back, the camp was astir and Yumi learned the routine of the day. After breakfast, the Mariner women took out the raft and went fishing, while Megan and the three Woodlander girls took the horses onto the plain to find good pasture and to give Carlin a riding lesson.

Ezra stayed in the camp to clear up, moving buckets of night-rain into the shade to keep cool. Yumi and Dagma chatted as they watched him work. He swept sand out of the tents and prepared a cold lunch of fish, cheese and dry beef. Normally Dagma would help but today she thought she'd be more useful helping Yumi come to terms with the strange new world she found herself on.

Yumi was fascinated by the women of Samothea but shocked that they went around undressed in front of Ezra, especially the Mariner women, who worked naked. At least the others put on clothes to go horse-riding.

She was also shocked when Dagma explained that, except for the youngsters, all the women here were Ezra's lovers (though 'bedmates' was the designated term). Yet it also made sense: there were no other men on Samothea, she learned, and Dagma wasn't the only pregnant woman there.

The riders came back to camp a little before the Mariners returned with their catch. The cold lunch was good and the chatter was lively as the women rested in the sun for half-an-hour; then it was time for swimming lessons. Ezra gave a task to the Woodlander girls as they set off: he asked them to collect a load of cooking stones.

Dagma suggested to Yumi that they go and watch the swimmers. Yumi sensibly left off her shoes as impractical for the beach, though it made her one of the shortest people in the camp. She also took off her stockings to keep cool.

Cressi stayed behind to help Ezra clear up and, when they were done, took him by the hand and led him away to the sand-dunes. It was her week with him, of course, and she was determined to make up for the time she'd already missed. She chatted happily, laughing and joking, taking him to a good spot beyond the dunes with thick soft grass.

Already naked from fishing in the morning, Cressi impatiently helped Ezra strip. As usual, she was wild. She jumped on him and, although she weighed almost nothing, he pretended to be knocked over and fell on his back pulling her on top. She straddled him and kissed him hard, her hands in his beard. She could kiss like this forever but she had other needs. She pushed herself up his body and pressed her sweet little tits into his face.

He nibbled and sucked the pretty globes until she wanted something else and pulled herself further up his body, presenting to him first her ribs, then her thin flat stomach. Eventually, she knelt astride his head, pushing her cute pussy, with its frame of yellow hair, onto his mouth. Ezra licked and fondled her pussy, until Cressi enjoyed a sweet clutch of orgasms.

Daintily, she got off him and lay back on the warm grass. She shut her eyes and breathed deeply, enjoying the afterglow of sexual fulfilment. Ezra turned so he lay beside her. He traced a finger-tip gently down her body, from chin to neck to shoulder, around a tit a few times, across her ticklish ribs to her waist and thigh, then down a thin leg to a knee.

"Mmm," she said, "more."

He used his whole hand to caress her.

"More," she said, "much more."

He lay on her and, as they kissed, he pushed his cock into her slit. She sighed and lifted her knees up for a deeper angle. He began to thrust. She popped her tongue into his mouth as she breathed heavily, moaning with pleasure, feeling the delightful rub of his cock in her tight pussy.

As she got more turned on, Cressi writhed underneath him, sticking her claws into his back, scratching him hard. He grabbed her arms and held them out to the side so she couldn't scratch. Instead, she sank her teeth into his upper arm.

"Ow!" he cried, letting go of her arms and pushing himself up. She got in a last scratch across his chest before he pulled fully off her. Cressi was disappointed yet unrepentant. She grinned; but Ezra moved only for self-protection.

He pulled her up, turned her around so she was kneeling away from him and pushed her forward. He grabbed her arms and held them crossed behind her back. Her cute arse was in the air, her legs spread, her hair-lined pussy lips flared and shone with her juices. He pushed his cock into her slit and she moaned deeply, rocking her pelvis.

Ezra fucked her hard, thrusting vigorously into her tight little pussy. Cressi shrieked happily.

******

"Can you swim?" Dagma asked Yumi as they stood on the shore watching the swimmers.

"Yes," Yumi said, "but I'm not sure I want to go naked in front of everyone."

Yumi leant on Dagma's arm, grateful to her pregnant companion. The glare from the bright ocean made Yumi regret not having her sunglasses.

"I was learning to swim but I got sun-burned," Dagma said. "Would you like to go for a paddle?"

They walked into the warm clear water up to their knees, feeling the soft golden sand between their toes.

Talking as they splashed along, Yumi stopped occasionally to rest and once leant on Dagma's arm for steadiness; but she persevered. The hot sun invigorated her. The sea lapped at her calves and the salt wind cooled her face. She was gaining strength all the time. It wasn't long before they were so far along the shore that the gentle whoosh of the ocean drowned out the excited yelps and cries of the girls frolicking on the raft.

Then they heard a new noise above the wind and the waves. High-pitched moans and lower-pitched grunts came from the other side of the sand-dunes.

"Is that Ezra?" asked Yumi.

"Yes. We should turn back. He's doing his duty to Cressi."

"It sounds like she's enjoying it."

"We all enjoy it, though not quite so noisily as Cressi."

Then Dagma remembered.

"Wait until you meet Dipti," she added, confidentially, "she's a real screamer."

******

After Cressi had cum a couple of times on his cock, crying out and shaking as she convulsed, Ezra at last splurged his load into the girl, gripping her waist tightly.

They took a dip in the sea and came back to the soft grass to rest and dry off in the sun. Always cheerful, Cressi was especially happy after sex and wanted to chat. She lay on him and told him what was on her mind. When she'd run out of fascinating things to say, Ezra took his turn:

"Do you know what I love most about you, Cressi?"

"Everything, of course, because I'm almost perfect."

"Only almost?"

"Well, I have a mole on my neck and my hair is all frizzy instead of straight, and it's boringly blonde. I'd love to have Thalassa's hair."

Thalassa had long straight chestnut hair that glinted deep red in the sun. There was an unstated competition among the women at their daily grooming sessions for the pleasure of combing Thalassa's hair. Tamar's golden mane was also a favourite in the camp.

"I like your frizzy hair," Ezra said, "and the colour suits you fine. No, what I love most about you is that you're so uncomplicated."

"Why should I be complicated?"

"No reason. It's just that many women are."

"But I don't understand: what there is to be complicated about?"

She rolled off him and lay on her back. She felt the hot sun on her perky breasts and thin thighs.

"I enjoy my work," Cressi said, arching her back and wiggling her toes as she stretched her arms out over her head.

"I have wonderful friends. I have enough to eat and a good strong hut with a good strong bed to sleep in. I have Salema for woman-sex and you for man-sex. Sometime soon your seed will do its stuff and I'll get a child to love. What else do I need?"

"Nothing. Life is perfect for you, as it should be. You're the happiest person I know ... and you deserve to be happy."

"I do," she agreed.

"So, because you're so happy, you can afford to be generous ..."

"Oh, no you don't," she warned, turning to face him. "I'm not sharing you again. You're mine!"

"Please, Cressi? For the sake of your friends. I feel I'm neglecting them."

"You're not neglecting them. They've had their time. Now it's my turn."

"But Kalyndra and Devon missed out almost their whole week and Thalassa isn't an official bedmate."

"Are they complaining?"

"No. You know they wouldn't complain. Well, Devon would, but she hasn't."

Cressi was silent. For all her protests, she was an invariably generous girl and had never yet refused anything asked of her. He saw this when she volunteered for the salvage party. Moreover, she would never refuse to give up her place for Kalyndra, with whom she had always been good friends.

"I'll make it up to you," he said.

"How?"

"However you like."

Cressi took her time to mull the possibilities.

"All right," she said at last. "I know what I want. I'll release you for one afternoon if you'll do with me what you do with Kalyndra."

"Ask for something else."

"You refuse?"

"Do you know what Kalyndra and I do?"

"Some of it. I saw the marks you left on her last week - but more importantly, I saw how happy she was. All next day, she was floating on air. She was serene, radiant and full of colour. Tell me why: what do you do together?"

"I tie her up, gag her and spank her as punishment. Sometimes I give her impossible orders, just so she'll fail and I can punish her some more."

"I see."

Cressi lay silent and thoughtful. Her lusty inner-devil began to tug at her.

"Do you want that?" he asked.

"I want to know what she gets out of it, to see if I like it," she answered cautiously. "I want to feel her contentment."

She was leaning against him, her hands on his chest.

"I think you'll like it," he said, "and it'll give me a chance to get back at you for all the damage you've done to me."

"Like this?" she asked, laughing as she ran a finger along the scratch she'd made from his shoulder across his chest to his stomach. She also kissed the mouth-shaped bruise on his arm.

"Exactly."

"I thought you were going to refuse," she said.

"Not at all. The opposite, in fact. I don't want you to give up one of your days for something I would do anyway if you ask me."

"But I would have given up one of my days for Kalyndra if she'd asked, so I'm content. They can have tomorrow."

"All right. I'll tie you up and fuck you when we're back in the Beach Settlement."

"Good."

She climbed back on him and lay her head on his chest. The growing grass around them smelled warm and sweet. The hot sun beamed down, roasting her back. Sweat pooled in the contours of her spine between the muscles of her thin waist. He wiped the sweat as he stroked her back.

"You're boiling," he said.

"Hmm, lovely."

To a northerner like Ezra, tropical heat was a stimulus, boosting his sex-drive. Pretty soon, he was ready to go again. She felt the prodding of his hardening cock against her thigh and pushed herself up to sit on him and ride him to another satisfying climax.

******

Dagma and Yumi were first back to the camp, followed by the swimmers, who wrapped themselves in blankets and got out their combs.

Tamar offered to brush Yumi's hair and sat down behind her. Carlin came and sat behind Tamar and began to comb her friend's hair. Then Megan sat behind Carlin. One-by-one, the other women joined in, so that when Ezra and Cressi returned, there was a circle of women, each combing the hair of the woman in front and having her own hair groomed by the woman behind.

It was lovely sight for Ezra: profoundly social and beautifully feminine.

Kalyndra, who was combing Thalassa's hair, moved back and invited Cressi to join the circle in front of her. Now only Wildchild was absent from the group, preferring to shake her thick curls dry. She avoided the chore of grooming by keeping her wild black hair short: the only time Wildchild allowed anyone to touch her hunting knife was when she gave it to Tamar once a month to hack at her curls.

Instead, she was building a small cooking platform from the stones that she and the other girls had brought back for Ezra. Having divined his purpose, Wildchild laid out the stones on a sandy patch by the campfire, their flattest sides upward.

Grooming finished, dinner was easily prepared. Instead of gutting and slicing the fish in two, they were rolled in mud from the watering hole. Hand-shaped flatbreads were ready to be laid on the stones, which now needed only heat. For that, Wildchild had charged her laser penknife in the sun. Smiling to acknowledge her understanding, Ezra fetched his own penknife and the two of them set to frying the stones with bright laser beams until they glowed red.

The clay-wrapped fish spat and crackled when they were laid on the hot stones. The flatbreads sighed and let off steam. At that heat, they cooked quickly, gaining a crunchy skin without the usual ashy tinge from a wood fire. The fish was succulent and sweet, easy to eat because the bones fell out and the scales adhered to the clay casing when it was split open.

There was not much to say at dinner that hadn't already been said at lunch, except for the obvious questions everyone wanted to ask Yumi. They were denied because Ezra commandeered her for a private chat. Thwarted, the salvage party reverted to their usual pattern of conversation, led by the three chattiest girls: Cressi, Thalassa and Tamar. Tamar, especially, could be relied upon to tell a long story that was both inconsequential and of burning importance.

Ezra was pleased to see that Yumi ate well and seemed to be stronger.

"So, what do you think of Samothea?" he asked.

"It's lovely," she replied, adding: "I think you're very lucky. They're all such beautiful women."

"Aren't they?"

"And they have gorgeous hair."

"I know. For a while, I worried that I was becoming a hair fetishist but then I realised that their hair really was amazing. Do you know why?"

"No."

"I think it's because there's no soap on Samothea, so they only ever rinse their hair and never remove its natural oils. That's my theory."

"It's a good theory," Yumi agreed, though it made her think she hadn't washed her own hair in a year, maybe she should find out from Dagma how the woman of Samothea really made their hair shine so healthily.

Yumi realised why Ezra was talking about shampoo, however, and not asking what everyone wanted to know, questions he had a right to ask.

"Ezra, I know you want me to explain why I stowed away on your ship. I'll tell you, I promise, but not in front of everyone. I'm too ashamed. I don't want them to know."

"Believe me, Yumi, you won't keep any secrets here for long. If the salvage party don't make you tell them, then Solange, the chief of the Herder Tribe, will. She can read minds. And Annela, one of the Woodlanders, is a witch. She'll sit by you patiently, waiting for you to speak, and you'll tell her everything just to fill the silence."

"I don't want them to judge me."

"They don't believe in that non-judging crap. It's human to judge. But I promise you, whatever you tell them, they'll understand. We're on Samothea now. None of what went before matters. It's a new world and a new life."

Yumi was silent a few minutes thinking, then she made up her mind. She nodded to Ezra, who waited for a lull in the general conversation.

"Ladies ..." he said.

Those who were preparing to speak swallowed back their voices and there was silence.

"Ladies, Yumi has something to say."

Yumi began. Her high-pitched voice was gentle but clear and immediately everyone was attentive.

"I know you want to hear how I came to be in Ezra's spaceship. It's a long story and a shameful one."

"Don't tell us if you'd rather not," Dagma said: an offer not universally applauded by the women.

"I will tell you, now I've encouraged myself."

"One moment," Kalyndra said. The swimmers were sitting naked under their blankets. She fetched an extra blanket for Yumi and gave Dagma her own, then she snuggled together with Devon and they were all set for the evening.

"I loved a boy on Earth," Yumi said. "His name was Michio. He's the son of the chairman of the company I worked for. We were students together, then we worked together. We had plans for the future ..."

She trailed off but she recovered her power and the order of her narrative. As dusk settled and a cold wind from the sea began to blow across the dunes, Yumi told the story of her love-affair with Michio, the problem of keeping it a secret from his father, the decision to elope to an outworld settlement and her pregnancy.

"I never told Michio I was pregnant. I didn't want to hold it over him, as blackmail. Our plan was to meet in a bar on Capella Spaceport; then we'd go far away. We'd make our fortunes on another planet and I would send for my family. It was a beautiful dream and I spent all my money on a ticket to Capella."

"I waited every evening in the bar, sending Michio messages via my brother, Itsuki, but I never received a reply from him. While I was on Capella, I learned that Michio was engaged. It was a business deal arranged by his father, not a real marriage; but it made me think that Michio encouraged me to go to Capella just to get rid of me."

"I cried all night in my hotel room. I couldn't go back to my parents now that I was pregnant, even if I had the money for a ticket to Earth. I stopped messaging Itsuki. I didn't care what happened to me. I just wanted to go even further away."

"I made a plan. I would wait at the bar for Michio until my money ran out, then I would seduce one of the prospectors or a crew-member of a freighter and stow away on his spaceship."

"My money barely lasted a week. When I was down to my last few pounds, I put on my sexiest clothes and tried to find a lonely man to take me away with him."

"Of course, I was useless at seducing men and had some unpleasant moments, but nothing too serious until I met Ezra. He turned out to be a perfect gentleman. He took me on a tour of the space-station and gave me an excellent dinner."

"I had to insist that he show me his ship and there I seduced him. That evening I gave up on Michio completely. He was married and nothing to me anymore. I looked forward to a new life on another planet because I was now running toward something, not away from something. ... I also liked Ezra. He was sweet."




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 16



"Oh, God! Don't call me 'sweet'," Ezra protested, laughing.

"But you were. Sleeping with you was part of the plan but it was also something I enjoyed doing. It was genuine and I'm sorry I tricked you."

"I'm not. I wasn't difficult to seduce and you were a delightful companion. There's nothing to regret."

"There is something to apologise for, Ezra. I hacked your shipboard computer."

"You did, how?"

"I wrote a virus into the message I posted you."

"I wondered why you didn't just write me an ordinary note."

"I needed to send you an electronic message so when you opened it the virus would reconfigure the life-support system to hide my presence."

"Very cleverly done, Yumi."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It got you here, and that was a good thing, for all of us, including you."

Yumi bowed her head. She wanted to feel ashamed and stupid but neither Ezra nor the women of Samothea would let her.

"You all know the rest of my story. As soon as the sirens went off, I jumped into the escape pod and got trapped inside. I don't remember exactly when the pod put me to sleep. I only remember being revived and finding myself a year later in the strangest place I've ever been."

There were lots of questions, of course, and Yumi felt that she'd told her story three times over before the night-rain started and she was allowed to go to bed. Again, she slept with Ezra and Dagma.

They held her warmly, snuggled safely between them, and there was no repeat of yesterday's nightmare. All three slept soundly until morning.

As everyone got up for breakfast and their daily chores, Wildchild noticed something glinting among the cooking stones. She lifted a stone and saw some of the sand underneath had crystallized into glass. It adhered to the rock as shiny multi-coloured pyramids.

She broke off some of the glass with the heel of her knife and sat down to examine it.

Yumi noticed Ezra watching Wildchild deep in thought.

"Aren't you going to tell her about glass?" she asked.

"No. I'm interested to see her work it out for herself."

Wildchild let Megan and Tamar take Carlin riding that morning. She had other endeavours. She took one of the buckets down to the sea and went diving for another stone. She found exactly what she wanted in a large granite rock with a shallow bowl-shaped indentation. With a bucket full of clean yellow sand, Wildchild brought her finds back to the camp.

Meanwhile, Ezra had done his chores and had a task for Yumi. She was pleased to be able to help and followed him to the escape pods, wedged into the dunes between the camp and the beach.

"Can you program the pods to transmit distress signals?" he asked.

Yumi looked at the control panels.

"I should think so."

She started to press buttons.

"Why do you want me to?" she asked.

"It's very unlikely we'll ever be rescued but I'd like to give our rescuers every possible help. Mostly, it's a symbol of hope for me, just so we're doing something and not passively waiting. Can you keep the beacon flashing as well?"

"I'll try."

"I'm not going to mention the distress signal to anyone but I'll leave the processed food and a spare tent by the pods. They may be useful in an emergency. I'll say the beacon is to guide people to the emergency rations. ... I'm sorry to include you in my subterfuge but there is someone who would disapprove if she knew that the escape pod was signalling our whereabouts."

"Whom?"

"Chief Mirselene of the Woodlander tribe, Dagma's mother. I'm not sure of her reasons."

"I understand. ... It's done."

"That's quick. I'm impressed!"

"I can add a message to the signal, if you want. At the moment, it's sending the serial number of your ship and its current location. It also usually sends the vital signs of the occupant. Instead, I can say we're alive and Samothea is inhabited."

"Thanks. Can you add that we need full quarantine; that there are no infections on Samothea? Also, you might like to add a warning about the black hole where Sothis was, though anyone near enough to receive the signal will already know about the black hole."

Yumi programmed both pods and then had a recollection.

"My purse! Ezra, did you see my purse on your ship?"

"Sorry, no. If it was in the hold, then it could be anywhere in a pile of jumbled and broken stuff."

"How about in the pod?"

"Let's take a look."

He pressed the button to open the lid, which slid back with a hiss. He moved the chair to allow Yumi to crawl in sideways and take a look in the back of the pod.

"It's here!" she exclaimed happily. "Here it is!"

She stretched out her arm to retrieve the shiny pink leather clutch-bag. Yumi seemed much happier than retrieving such an apparently trivial item deserved but Ezra understood.

"What's in it?" he wondered, sharing her pleasure at finding something from home.

Yumi tipped the contents onto the seat.

There was a lip-gloss, a face-powder compact, other make-up paraphernalia, a comb, her communicator, a data-cube, her credit stick from Capella, some hairpins, a pack of tissues and a coat-button. Yumi sorted her treasure for a minute, then she tried the communicator, thinking that, even if she couldn't use it to talk to anyone, it might still work as a computer. It didn't. She tried charging it in the sun but that was also bootless.

"Never mind," Ezra commiserated. "It was very unlikely to work."

"I know, but it's a shame. At least I have my lip-gloss."

"Indeed. I've managed to last more than a year on Samothea without either a computer or lip-gloss."

She laughed.

"It does seem insignificant, doesn't it? But, like your signal, it's a reminder of Earth."

"Which you were escaping from..."

"All right. It's not fair using logic on me. ..."

Then she asked something that was on her mind.

"Ezra, do you mind sleeping with me?"

"Not at all."

"Because you could sleep with your bedmates if you wanted. I, ... I don't really need you. I mean, I've really only known you for a few days. You've known them for a year. I've no claim on you."

It was true that they barely knew each other. Just one day on Capella and two days on Samothea; yet the day on Capella had been an intense one that ended in the peak of intimacy. He thought it gave them a claim on each other.

"Yumi, I want to keep you near me until I'm sure you're fine. I know it's patronising but I care about you."

"Thank you," she said, her eyes modestly down. "I'd like to be your bedmate. It was great sex; but I'm not sure I'm ready yet. Do you mind?"

He chuckled at her sincerity and concern. He remembered with what regret Annela had explained to him, just a month after giving birth to Freya, that she wasn't yet ready for sex, though he hadn't asked her. The memory made him smile.

"Yumi, you need to meet Annela. She was my first bedmate here and she believes no woman is allowed to refuse sex to her man. She's also shocked that any Earthwoman would ever want to refuse sex."

"Really?"

"I've tried telling her the truth and you can try as well. But please don't worry about sex. Your recovery is our first aim. Helping you adjust to life here is our second. Sex isn't even third."

Yumi was reassured and kissed him on the cheek to thank him.

They headed back to the camp, where Wildchild's experiment was progressing nicely. She poured a small pile of sand onto the rock and used her penknife to melt it, watching it transform into a red plastic mound and then a yellow liquid.

She prodded the liquid with the tip of her knife and started to make shapes. She held the knife up. Tear-drops of molten glass hung from the tip with treacle-like viscosity.

The salvage party took a keen interest in Wildchild's work over lunch. She didn't mind having an audience. In fact, she was pleased Ezra was there because, when her penknife ran out of power, she left it recharging in the sun and borrowed his so she could carry on experimenting.

Yumi was charmed by Ezra's affection for the girl.

"She's very bright," Yumi observed in a whisper.

"They all are," he whispered back. "All the women of Samothea are descendents of scientists and engineers."

Wildchild was playing with globules of molten glass, forming them into interesting shapes.

"Is she making jewellery?" Yumi wondered.

"Very unlikely," he answered. "Wildchild doesn't hold with female frippery. I bet it will be something practical."

After lunch, Dagma went for her first swim since getting sunburned. She stripped in the camp but was careful to keep on her wide-brimmed hat and apply oil from Thalassa's medicine box as a kind of sun-screen. That afternoon, Yumi also joined the swimmers. 

Fearing she would be stared at, Yumi shyly left on her short yellow skirt and pink cotton top until she was far down the beach. She ran into the sea quickly. Even so, the women were fascinated by her shaved armpits, legs and crotch. Although they didn't understand her diffidence, they respected it; all except for Tamar, of course, whose quest to understand everything in the universe made her impolitely curious.

She swam up to Yumi to ask why she had so little hair, little more than a child. Was it natural?

The older women might have disapproved Tamar's directness but they surreptitiously moved closer to hear Yumi's reply.

Yumi found it impossible not to answer the inquisitive and harmless girl.

"Before I left Earth," she explained, "I had an electro-laser depilatory treatment. It should have lasted eighteen months or so but I guess it will last even longer because I was asleep so long."

"Was it painful?" Tamar wondered.

"It's supposed not to hurt but it did. It always does a little."

"Why did you do it? Do all Earthwomen do it?"

"Many Earthwomen do. I did it for my boyfriend, Michio."

That puzzled Tamar. She asked her favourite question:

"Why?"

"Just to please him."

"But why? Why suffer pain just to please a man? I can't imagine Ezra asking his bedmates to suffer pain."

As Kalyndra and Devon exchanged a private smile at that statement, Dagma decided it was time to intervene to protect Yumi from more embarrassing questions.

"Tamar," she said, "let Yumi swim in peace."

"I was just asking."

"It's all right," Yumi said. "I understand why you want to know. It's hard to explain."

The truth was that her shaved pussy was more sensitive, which was nice, but also that part of her enjoyed suffering a little discomfort for the sake of her boyfriend. It made her feel submissive. Not that he deserved it, she reminded herself.

Yumi didn't know how to explain all that to an under-age girl and took refuge in Dagma's intervention.

While most of the women swam and Tamar pestered Yumi, Wildchild made progress in her experiment. She noticed the imprint of the fish on the clay molds they were cooked in. She fetched more clay and whittled a shape in wood, cut a soft mold in half with her knife and pushed the template into each side. With a thin stick of wood, she also made a passage through the clay from the top and pushed the two sides together. She left the mold to dry in the sun.

Two other members of the salvage party not swimming were Thalassa and Ezra. They had gone for a walk along the dunes.

"How are you feeling after that orgy in the tent?" Ezra asked.

"I'm feeling happy. It was wonderful. ... I'm sorry we tricked you."

"Don't be. It was my fault for neglecting you for so long; but you know why?"

"You thought I was just a girl and not yet a woman."

She said this with her characteristic wise and patient smile, without a hint of "I told you so."

"So you're willing to have sex again?" he asked.

"Any time you want. Do you really need to ask me?"

Ezra chuckled.

"You know I'm not good at reading signals. What I really wanted to do was to tell you what a wonderful lover you are and that I want you to be a regular bedmate, if you want it as well ..." he didn't finish.

Thalassa put her arms around his neck, pulling their mouths together.

"Read this signal!" she said and kissed him with an open mouth, the tip of her tongue pushing against his teeth, parting his lips, making him kiss her back with his tongue.

Things heated up quickly and soon they were lying on the warm grass, Thalassa on top, one hand in his beard, the other slipped into his shirt, brushing his chest-hair. She made love with teenage passion, feeling the hot joy of discovery and the lively anticipation of new-found love.

The kiss seemed to last for ages and when she raised her mouth from his, he brushed her sweet-smelling hair to one side of her head to nibble her thin neck. She shut her eyes and sighed with pleasure. She undid her leather jacket to release her lovely tits, arching her back, pushing out her chest in invitation.

He kissed at the tanned globes, which jutted out firmly. They seemed disproportionately large on the skinny girl. The good-size light-brown nipples begged to be sucked. Ezra did what he most loved doing and adored the beautiful girl's gorgeous tits.

He put a hand under her leather skirt and eased it down over her hips. She got up to kick off her skirt and played the same game with him, taking his clothes off slowly, kissing his chest as she removed his shirt, working her way down his body, to undo his trousers, one slow button at a time.

When she exposed his cock, she knew what she wanted to do. She began with small kisses from the tip of his cock down the shaft, feeling the cock twitch as blood pumped in. She sat naked, her knees spread over his legs, and took his cock into her mouth, smiling as she felt it quickly hardening.

He brushed her hair from her forehead so he could see what was happening. She had the head of his cock in her mouth. She looked up at him, her calm silver eyes sparkling with lust and discovery. Still smiling her hungry smile, she bowed her head and took his whole cock into her mouth.

It was an exquisite blow-job. Her soft lips and warm exploring tongue were soft as silk. They gently brought him to full-size hardness. She laid her tongue flat on the base of his cock and licked up to the tip, then she sucked on the head, bobbing her mouth up and down, releasing it with a sexy popping sound.

It was like heaven, especially the final suck with her lip on the sensitive top of his cock-head. He lay back and groaned deeply.

"You're amazing, Darling!" he said.

Her mouth was full so she couldn't answer but she'd learned something and now repeated that action until he was close to a climax. It was teasing at its best and was entirely unlearned and instinctive; she just read his responses and reacted accordingly.

She stopped to let his arousal subside, moving herself up his body again until they were mouth-to-mouth, kissing deeply, his hands around her waist.

She moved further up his body, giving him her throat to kiss, then her lovely tits again. He kissed down her body to her ribs and the taut drum of her wasp waist, which was sensitive to his lips.

She was ridiculously thin, though apparently healthy and undeniably sexy. Her hip-bones jutted out. He could count her ribs by sight. He kissed down her stomach, around the thin navel, slowly working toward her pussy, nuzzling her brown pubic hair.

It was the softest pubic hair he'd ever felt. It went around her pussy and in a thin line down the inside of each thigh. He kissed around her outer lips, warming her thighs with a hand gently tracing a line along her skinny thighs.

As he lavished her pussy, he could feel her arousal: the heat in her labia as they swelled with blood; the sweet smell of her pussy, flushed with lubrication; the taste of the salty ocean left on the skin of her thighs. She breathed in heavily and sighed slowly as his kisses reached the sensitive highlight of her clitoris.

He teased her, working on her clit and then moving away, to kiss again down her belly or along the inside of her thighs. He held her by the waist, his fingers almost touching around her back.

Thalassa loved being held tightly. She breathed deeply and leant forward to put her hands on his shoulders to steady herself.

He kissed back down to her pussy and this time gave her clitoris more than a brief visit. She began to buck slowly, moaning with lust. Sexual desire flushed her pussy. He pulled her lips apart to lick along the slit, tasting her juice, tangling her clit at the end of each stroke. She gasped and moaned. He kept this up and she got even more aroused and closer to satisfaction each time.

He pushed a finger into her twat, pushing downward to stretch the muscles as he sucked on her clit. That really moved her and she arched, moaning sweetly. He turned his finger the other way up but only laid it flat on her g-spot.

He did his trick of sucking on her pussy to make a vacuum and releasing his finger from her sweet spot to fill it with blood. That really got her going. Her back arched and she felt the strain building in her legs, the hot joy buzzing in her pussy.

"Oh my God! Yes! Yes! Just like that!"

She moaned louder and arched further as he rubbed the engorged spot. There was a warm wet pleasure building deep in her belly and a sweet tingling on the surface of her skin, but most of the joy was focussed on her g-spot. He rubbed harder in her vagina, flicking his tongue over her clitoris.

The climax came at her from all directions, enveloping her body. Her legs shook and her back hunched. She cried out for joy. It wasn't over. She came again, shaking her hips, rubbing her pelvis on his face. Once more and she was done, sliding off, breathing heavily, sighing as she rested and recovered.

"Oh my God, Ezra! I didn't know my pussy could do that! No wonder we're all in love with you!"

"I think that's because I'm the only man here, Sweetheart."

"Hmm!"

She didn't dispute the point but after a rest she said "My turn!" and climbed back on board, lowering her pelvis onto him, lining her slit up with his erection. She pushed down, wiggled a little, rose up and pushed down again until she'd engulfed his cock. She began to ride him slowly in a sensuous figure-of-eight motion, quietly moaning with the pleasing friction.

He sucked her tits again, his hands on her hips. Her hair fell onto his chest as she swivelled her little bottom to an erotic rhythm.

Thalassa moaned louder, breathing more heavily as she made more energetic thrusts. She leant on him, holding him tightly, her gasping breaths hot on his neck.

She felt the orgasm begin with a tingle in her back, spreading over the skin like a warm blanket. It promised to be a deeper, stronger orgasm than the climax Ezra just gave her. She was working up to it slowly, thrusting faster, feeling the tension rise.

The orgasm grew quickly and overwhelmed her brain. She moaned "Yes! Yes! Yes!" again and again, thrusting her pelvis, eyes shut, feeling the convulsion all over, from her toes to her throat. The mind-numbing pleasure captured her senses.

Ezra felt a squeezing spasm on his cock as she hunched and arched, her pelvis shuddering, legs shaking until she stopped frozen, crying out from satisfaction. He held her waist and thrust up into her, faster, harder, in an urgent need to reach a peak, bringing them both off.

Thalassa came again, shouting for joy and, at last, Ezra came as well, the tension breaking, hot juice spurting up into her skinny body as he pumped hard one last time and groaned with completion.

She felt immense satisfaction, coming down from the peak of her orgasms, lying now in warm contentment, sharing their joy with a melting relaxation.

******

Even while dinner was being prepared, Wildchild was still fascinated by her glass creations. The first mold - an experiment - had been a success and she had a convex piece of glass to show Tamar and Carlin, who came over in their blankets to help. It was barely usable as a magnifying glass but it showed Wildchild what she could do.




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 16



With her language of signs and grunts, Wildchild gave tasks to the girls, who charged up the laser pen-knives and fetched more clay.

They set up a production-line for the molds so, by dinner time, when Wildchild heated the cooking stones for the potatoes and fish, they added twenty clay molds to bake them hard. Each mold would produce two of whatever Wildchild was making.

Dinner was ready when Ezra and Thalassa came back, holding hands. They quietly took their places by the campfire. Soon, those of Wildchild's molds that hadn't cracked in the baking were ready for the glass to be poured in. Neglecting her dinner and, with the last of her laser-pen's charge, Wildchild melted heaps of sand on her granite rock and poured yellow liquid glass into the molds, placing them in dips on the ground to cool down.

Satisfied for the moment, Wildchild relaxed and took her dinner-plate from Tamar. She'd worked naked ever since her dip in the sea. Ezra draped a blanket over her shoulders. Surprised, she looked up to thank him with a smile and saw admiration in his eyes. It pleased her. She smiled again and got on with her dinner.

Before the rain came, Wildchild showed everyone what she'd made in the clay molds. She broke one open to reveal two beautifully-sharp glass arrow-heads with a holes at their bases to fit it in the shaft and tie it off. She broke open the other molds. Some of the arrow-points had cracks or bubbles of air in them; but she had about two-dozen good ones from the batch.

She couldn't wait to test them and went to sleep that night dreaming of the pigeon-hunt.

2

Late in the morning next day, the third day after Yumi revived, the Herders arrived from the Cloner Fair.

Solange, Ash and Glynn rode into the salvage party camp with three pack-horses dragging sleds. Introduced to Yumi, Solange kindly welcomed her to Samothea. Then the women sat down to catch up with the gossip from the Cloner Fair. It was a noisy assembly.

The most important news concerned the legal hearing for Belena, who accused Calliope of mutiny and usurpation. The Mariner women were cheered to learn that the Lawspeaker dismissed Belena's arguments and confirmed Calliope as acting-Chief of the Mariner Tribe (pending a future election).

Gloria offered to mediate between the two women in the hope that Belena could return to her tribe, but the ex-chief proudly refused. She would rather live with the Farmers than admit she was wrong. Gerta, her daughter, loyally accompanied her mother.

It was the result the Mariners expected (some were unkind enough to hope for it) and it was a relief.

Now it was time to load the baskets of salvage goods into the sleds, one for each tribe. The baskets were filled with bedclothes, pillows, tools, a computer pad which didn't work and any bric-a-brac that could be a shiny treat for the children.

A peculiar addition to one of the Herders' baskets was a pack of yellow stuff, firm but squishy, and some thin copper cylinders with short wires and a row of small buttons.

"What's this?" Solange asked, picking up one of the yellow packs to sniff it, squishing it in her hand.

"Plastic explosive," Ezra said.

She looked quizzically at him but, typical of her, didn't put the explosive down.

"Do you remember you showed me a mountain that, if we could just remove its top, we could make a road to the southern plain for the cattle?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Well, you're holding enough explosive to flatten the whole mountain."

She put it down carefully.

"It can't go off, not without a detonator," he explained, "which is one of the copper cylinders. The problem is, they're electronic and I don't think they'll work. I salvaged them anyway and now Yumi's here, she might be able to fix them."

Yumi was listening and picked up a detonator as he spoke. She pressed some of its buttons and shook her head.

"Maybe I can make something else that will work," she said, "though it's not my field."

Solange moved onto something else, a collection of tools and men's clothes.

"I guess this is yours," she said to him.

The shoulder basket included his small tool-box, his geology testing kit with its acids and reagents, a small hammer and trowel; plus his underwear, the whisky bottle and two drinking glasses. Ezra had planned to give away his clothes but, in fact, Samothea was well supplied with men's clothes and the women here didn't wear underwear, except for a soft leather thong during their periods.

"Yes, will you take it with you, please?"

"I thought you'd send it to the Forest Camp," Solange replied.

"I originally intended to but I've had a change of plan and I will need the geology kit. Which of the Herders knows the Southern Mountains best?"

"Why?"

"Because the mountains are volcanic, like the White Mountains. Next month, when I'm living among the Herders, I can search there for the minerals that the Cloner Kits need. That is, if it suits you."

"Sure. I had no other plan for you except sex. Any of the shepherds, especially Lorna and Vera, can guide you in the Mountains. Galatea would be best, if I could spare her. It would be a good time for you to get to know her," she added musingly. Solange had kept Ezra and Wildchild's mother apart during his previous visit to the Herder tribe but things were different now.

After loading up the sleds, they sat down for lunch and more gossip. Solange ate quickly. She had something to say to Wildchild. She got up and invited the girl for a private talk. Wildchild agreed reluctantly. She followed Solange away from the camp.

It was natural for the horsewomen to walk to the watering hole and the ponies.

"I've got something for you from your mother," Solange said.

Wildchild shook her head. She knew what it was and didn't want it.

"Samothea!" Solange protested.

Wildchild gave her an angry look.

"All right - Wildchild," Solange said softly. "You're eighteen. You're a woman in your own right. You're free of your mother's control; but freedom should be generous. If you can't be friends with your mother, you should at least admit the honesty of her motives and take what is rightfully yours."

She held out a silver necklace with a beautiful pendant: a silver S in a swirling pattern amid blue and red stones. The tips of the S were graced with two small perfect pearls.

"It's not a gift, Wildchild. It belongs to your family. Your mother got it when she was eighteen and, now that you're eighteen, it's yours - until you have an eighteen-year-old daughter yourself."

Still Wildchild shook her head.

"Why don't you want it?"

Wildchild was silent.

"You're going to have to speak some time, you know."

"I know why you don't talk," Solange continued: "I'm sorry for how Daina treated you; but she was chief at the time and I wasn't even her deputy. At first, I thought she and your mother were right. It was only when you left that I reconsidered. So I have that to apologise for ..."

Wildchild looked at her with new respect in her lucent green eyes.

"... but nothing else."

Wildchild smiled. She was satisfied with half an apology. The truth was that she didn't blame Solange and was close to forgiving her mother. But she needed a good reason to break the rule she made many years ago, after a particularly harsh punishment, that she would never speak to a Herder again.

She waited patiently for Solange to speak. Her face was blank, offering nothing, but she didn't run away, as she might well have done.

"I'm sorry your mother took your discipline too far," Solange said, "but you were a damned nuisance and out of control much of the time. You were wilful and destructive. You fought with everyone and caused mayhem ..."

She smiled at Wildchild's defiant posture and spoke more softly.

"... but I also know you were punished for being good, for protecting Yael, fighting against the tribe for what was right."

There was a lot of bullying among the Herders under the previous chief, Daina, who had snatched Tamar and scared the gentle Woodlanders into refusing to trade with them. Daina kept the tribe wound up and aggressive, including Wildchild, who had done more than her fair share of fighting, though she always defended Tamar and never allowed her to be bullied.

"You have to understand what motivated Daina and your mother," Solange explained.

"Do you know what we do when a baby first takes an interest in solid food? ... We give her solid food to try. - Do you know what we do when a child first takes an interest in horses? ... We put her on the back of a pony and let her try riding."

"So when we see a child take responsibility, we give her more responsibility. In your case, we saw how you protected Yael and thought you were a potential leader; so your mother began to prepare you for ruling with extra tasks and extra discipline. ... I'm sorry it didn't work out as hoped but that was the reason."

Wildchild made a gesture that meant "sex".

"You're right, of course. We don't encourage girls to have sex as soon as they show an interest in it. In fact, we forbid it until they're eighteen. That's because sex is a powerful drive. If you're like me, then it's more powerful than all the other drives. We think an eighteen-year-old is more likely to control herself than a younger girl. I'm not sure why. Or maybe it's to protect younger girls from older women."

"In your case, anyway, your mother wanted to train you to be chief."

Wildchild pointed at Solange.

"Yes, I also want you to be chief; but more than that, I want you to fulfil your potential. ... You were always strong, clever and aggressive. But you're a woman now. Playtime is over."

"It's time to channel your aggression. On Earth (so Ezra says), there are many outlets for aggression, such as sport, business, art, science, sex and politics. Here we have only sex and politics. Well, you're only eighteen. Teenage years should be for fun, not babies. But if you're going to rule the planet, it's time to start training yourself."

Wildchild protested again.

"I know you don't want to rule but you should. It's a difficult job and doing something hard is more fulfilling than doing something easy. You know that."

"Even with training, you won't be ready for another four or five years; but I know you will want to govern. Your ambition will tug at you. You'll see the errors other people make and want to correct them. ... Not everyone who takes up the burden of leadership is suited to it. Some people are only ambitious, or envious, or greedy. You have the makings of a better kind of leader. ... In their own way, Daina and your mother knew that."

"At least they could see your brains and your pride. You'll develop the temperament. I've seen it happen in others with much less potential than you."

Wildchild's gesture meant "I'm not a Herder."

"Yes, yes. You live among the Wood-elves and hunt pigeons. But you've got a Herder's soul: you grab life by the tits."

Wildchild's smile was not a contented one.

"I don't care what tribe you rule!" Solange exclaimed, a little testily. "I care that you do something worthwhile with your life, that you do the best work you can!"

Solange continued with passion.

"You're an adult and responsible for yourself now. That means you have to control yourself - because no one else can."

"So no more wild antics. No more destructiveness. No more tantrums. You've had your fun but it's time to take up the burden of responsibility. The burden of power."

"You've been Wildchild long enough," she finished. "It's time to be Samothea."

There was silence as Wildchild stood deep in thought. What Solange said contained some profound truths. She did feel differently now. She regretted about half the fights she'd been in and more than half the damage she'd done. She might never really love her mother again, but she would be content to be reconciled to her. Most of all, she respected Solange, who seemed to care for her without apparently caring for anyone other than her bedmate, Ash.

Thinking like this, it was not long before Wildchild came to a decision. Solange was a Herder with whom she could talk. She knew it was time to discard the childish rule about not speaking.

"How would you train me to be a chief?" she asked.

Solange smiled. It was the first time she'd properly gotten through to Wildchild and the first time in many years that she'd heard her speak. She replied with one of her trademark changes of direction.

"I have a message for you from Gloria, chief of the Cloners."

Wildchild was stumped. There was no reason the Cloner Chief should know who she was.

"Gloria sends her greetings and, now you're eighteen, offers you a place among the Juniors."

Caught between astonishment and contempt, Wildchild settled on contempt. She knew from Megan exactly what the Juniors were like. She indicated her clothes; her men's jeans, severed at the knee, oversized lumberjack shirt with its sleeves rolled up, its tails tied high up around her waist for extra breeze on the hot plain.

"Yes, I know you don't dress - or act - like a Junior," Solange admitted. "But that's why it will do you good. The Juniors are servants to the Councillors. They wash and dress them, wait on their table and obey their orders."

Wildchild nodded, a little impatiently. She knew this.

"I know you despise them, these girl-women who enjoy dressing up, putting on make-up and having pillow-fights."

Wildchild looked guiltily blank.

"But they are meek, obedient and cheerful. They respond to slights and bossiness with kindness and patience. You're the opposite of a Junior. You're strong, wilful and aggressive and you don't accept insults. Well, you could learn lots by seeing how the Juniors resolve conflict without anger. It would do you good to understand some of the women you might be ruling one day."

Wildchild's look was priceless.

"They're worth understanding if you want their votes, Wildchild, even if you don't learn to enjoy dressing up."

"How come Gloria thinks I'd make a good Junior?"

"Because I told her. I asked her to send you the invitation."

"This is part of my training?"

"A large part."

"And there's no ulterior motive?"

"Like what?"

"Are you planning a raid on the Cloner City and need an inside man?"

Solange laughed.

"Do you want to know a secret? ... I have no plan to attack their city but when things became tense between the tribes a year or so ago, I was ready to break the Cloners economically. Then Gloria was elected chief and things changed at last. ... Gloria's a wise owl. She bends like a reed so she won't snap like a twig. Under her leadership, the Cloners are friendly and willing to compromise. They can even be generous and self-effacing."

"For example, there was talk at the Cloner Fair of bringing back the position of Prefect of Samothea. You understand what that means?"

"Yes," Wildchild answered. "It means the Cloners would be subordinate to someone who might come from any of the tribes."

"Exactly! In four years or so, when Gloria stands for re-election, there might be an even higher position available, perhaps for someone young and ambitious."

Wildchild thought on that statement for a minute, then she said:

"I haven't decided anything but can I have the necklace?"

"Let me put it on you. ... Your great-grandmother wore it. As you know, she was the first Prefect of Samothea."

Wildchild turned her back and Solange put the necklace around her neck, clipping it together.

"You have beautiful hair, Wildchild. Why do you cut it short? When you're a Junior, you should let it grow."

Wildchild hid the necklace under her shirt, not wanting anyone to see her wear jewellery; but she had something for Solange. She undid the holster on her thigh and handed over the hunting knife.

"For Mum," she said.

"Keep it," Solange replied. "I dare say she'd have given it to you, if you'd only asked."

Wildchild gave her a sheepish grin. Solange returned a big smile.

"Off you go," she said, "but don't take too long to decide."

Wildchild released her horse from the hobble and jumped on its back. She galloped onto the plain and was gone an hour. By the time she trotted back, she'd decided to become a Junior.

The first person she told was Tamar. Everyone heard the peal of laughter. Then Carlin joined them and there was more giggling as she caught up with the news.

Ezra was talking to Solange when they heard the merriment.

"I see that Wildchild has decided," she said.

"Decided what?"

"She's going to the Cloner City to learn how to be a girl," Solange explained with a wry smile.

"That's absurd," Ezra laughed. "Except for Tamar, whom she loves, and Carlin, who first taught her how to use a bow and arrow, Wildchild doesn't even like girls."

"Well she'll have to learn how because she'll be spending a year with the girliest young women on the planet."

"You arranged this: you persuaded her? Is there anything you can't do?"

"I'll let you know when I find it."

Ezra laughed again, though he wasn't entirely sure that Solange was joking.

When Wildchild told Ezra about her decision, she added:

"I still want a child, but not yet."

"Very wise," he said. "Teenage years are for having fun. Wait until you're twenty."

"I'm not waiting that long," she said. "I'll be back in a year."

He kissed her forehead, just as she liked, and she smiled up at him.

Wildchild gave Solange a sheepish smile. She didn't explain her decision but Solange didn't ask for a reason. She simply said:

"It's a good decision, and your first task will be your hardest."

"What is it?"

"You have to tell Mirselene that you're leaving the Woodlanders for a year. I wish you good luck."

******

Now the raft was loaded up it was time to leave the salvage campsite. With a strong heave, the Herders helped launch the raft into the ocean and waved goodbye to the Mariners (who included Yumi, Dagma and Ezra). They paddled hard to begin their journey home. It was expected to take two days, assisted by the northward current of the long-shore drift.

The riders set off. Tamar and Wildchild shared their horse; Megan gave Carlin a lift. After a few miles riding on the grassy plain under a hot sun, they said goodbye to Glynn, who was hugging the coast, taking her packhorse to the Mariner Settlement. Solange, Ash and the others turned inland, heading for the Herder's Northern Camp.

As they trotted, Solange had something more to say to Wildchild.

"Do you like your pony?" she asked.

She was a feisty, angry mare, slightly insane but very strong and quick.

"I love her," Wildchild said.

"I'll let you keep her, on one condition."

"What condition?" Wildchild was suspicious.

"I bet you can't go a year without getting into a fight."

Wildchild didn't think it would be that difficult. She hadn't fought with any of the Woodlanders, though she'd lived among them for a year.

"Not just no fights," Solange elaborated: "no retaliating if someone attacks you. No swearing or shouting at anyone; no sullen disobedience or dumb insolence; no running away because you're having a strop. In fact, no strops at all! I bet you can't keep your temper for a whole year."

"And if I do, I can keep her forever?"

"You can - but I'll take her back the first bad report I get of you."

"I can do it, easily."

"Good. ... A horse isn't much use in the forest, so leave her in the Northern Camp for now, until you're ready to go to the Cloner City."

"Thank you," Wildchild said, quietly.

"Don't thank me," Solange said, riding away. "You haven't won the bet yet."

3

The riders reached the Northern Camp that evening and stayed over-night. Next day, Wildchild said a temporary goodbye to her horse and joined Carlin and Tamar on the long trek to the Woodlanders' Forest Camp.




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 16



They carried their heavy backpacks and plenty of water and arrived in time to be given chores before the evening feast; but not before Erin had almost asphyxiated Carlin with her smothering hugs and the more sedate Eloise had lightly brushed Tamar's hair off her forehead and calmly kissed her. Tamar responded by hugging her mother hard, nuzzling her face into her bosom.

Over dinner, the girls were grilled by the tribe, who wanted to know everything that had gone on at the salvage party camp. Tamar was up to the job on her own, telling a lively story. Meanwhile, Wildchild asked to talk privately to Mirselene.

If Mirselene was surprised to hear Wildchild talk, she made no comment but invited the girl into her hut. She waited for her guest to sit before sitting herself.

Wildchild had never feared anything or anyone in her life, but she felt a sprinkling of apprehension in having to tell the formidable chief of the Woodlander tribe something she was going to dislike. The dull light of the wooden tapers gave her a little relief, partly hiding her face in shadow.

"Well, young lady?" Mirselene asked.

"I'd like to go to the Cloner City to be a Junior for a year."

"A Junior?"

Wildchild nodded.

"For a year?"

She nodded again.

"Why?"

"Solange thinks it will be good for me."

"She's probably right; and it will certainly be good for the Cloners. You're a remarkable young woman, Wildchild. You'll be an asset to their society."

Wildchild knew that Mirselene was unhappy because the chief was scrupulously polite, speaking with surety in a gently controlled voice.

"Thank you, Madam."

"Doubtless Solange will also benefit somehow. Do you know how?"

"No, Madam."

"Has she asked you to be a spy?"

"No, Madam."

"Hmm ... but it's your adopted tribe who will lose out."

"I'm sorry, Madam. What can I do to make up for it?"

"You can stay here and let us enjoy your company and benefit from your work."

"Madam?"

"Except you won't, will you? You want to do this?"

"Yes, Madam."

Mirselene paused. She had no power to stop the girl leaving. All she could do was persuade her to remain, or maybe threaten not to take her back. She rejected that option. Mirselene wanted Wildchild to belong to the Woodlanders and maybe the girl could learn something useful at the Cloner City.

"Promise me you'll come back to us when you're done being a Junior."

"I promise."

"Then I give you my blessing. Do the very best job you can and let the Cloners know what kind of people us Woodlanders are. That will be good for your tribe."

"I will, Madam."

"Good girl. ... So how come you can speak now?"

"I always could. I just didn't want to talk to any Herder; and then not talking became a habit."

"And now?"

"Solange told me it was time to grow up."

"That simple, eh? Solange has a lot of influence over you ..."

Wildchild began to protest.

"... It's not a bad thing. She's a good woman and a good chief. But remember that Gloria won't be pleased if you're a spy for the Herders."

"I'm not a spy, Madam. I'm a Woodlander!"

She couldn't have said anything better. Mirselene stood and held out her arms. A disliker of hugging, Wildchild knew she couldn't shy away. She returned the embrace. Mirselene kissed her on the lips in the Woodlander style.

"You'll do, young lady. I think we should have a pigeon-hunt tomorrow, so you can take some fresh meat with you."

Wildchild spent the night with Sharne and Dagma, showing them her new glass arrow-points, tying them to arrow-shafts with cat-cut. Balancing the arrows was tricky and they spent the next morning trimming the shafts and adjusting the feathers, but in the end she had a dozen good arrows to take hunting. They worked well and she could re-use almost all the arrows. They roasted twenty pigeons that night.

On the following morning there was an affected leaving ceremony. Wildchild spent a long time with Tamar, who cried, despite putting on her happiest smile for her friend.

"I won't need this in the Cloner City," Wildchild said as she entrusted her precious hunting-knife to Tamar's care, tying the holster around the skinny girl's waist.

With leaving-presents of glass arrow-heads to Sharne, Dagma and Carlin, Wildchild said goodbye to the tribe. She carried her backpack, bow, arrows and a swag bag full of pigeon-meat to the Herder's Northern Camp to collect her horse and start on another adventure.

4

The salvage party raft arrived back in the Mariner Settlement on the same day that those who'd been to the Cloner Fair returned home on foot.

Among them was a member of the tribe Ezra had not yet met. Helen was Salema's mother. She'd accompanied Belena's daughter, Gerta, to the Cloner City while she was conceiving a daughter; but now that Belena and Gerta had joined the Farmers, Helen was free to return home. She was happy to do so.

Helen's return was convenient for Cressi and Ezra because Cressi's bedmate, Salema, and her daughter, Della, would sleep in Helen's hut that night to reconnect after nine months apart.

Meanwhile, there was lots to do in the Mariner Settlement. Yumi needed to be introduced to the tribe and a bed found for her. The salvage items needed to be sorted and distributed or stored. Ezra had to lend his laser-knife to Juniel and, when he had a spare moment after chores, just before dinner, he asked to see the latest sculpture by the young artist, Odette.

She modestly presented it for his judgment. It was a wooden portrait of her mother, Althea, lying naked on her side, resting, supporting her head with one hand, the other hand modestly covering her groin. Her legs were crossed at the ankles, her ample breasts facing forward. Her belly was smooth: her naval a delicate horizontal slit.

The composition was exquisite: Althea's curvy body was both open and secret at the same time, both voluptuous and reserved, both motherly and - perhaps unintended by the fifteen-year-old girl - sexually seductive.

"It's wonderful!" Ezra said admiringly. "Your best work yet."

Odette beamed.

While Ezra admired the art-work, Kalyndra and Devon were having an interview with Calliope in her boat.

"What's on your minds, Ladies?" the chief asked.

"It's about Thalassa," Devon started.

"What has she done?"

"Nothing, of course. It's just that she's got no one to be her bedmate."

"That's true. What of it?"

"We want her to join us, to become bedmates with us both," Kalyndra said.

"And what does Thalassa say?"

"We haven't asked her yet ..."

"I see. Are you seeking my permission?"

"No, your advice - and approval."

"You have my complete approval. And my advice is to go and ask her straight away. You are wonderful girls and there's none I'd rather Thalassa were bedmates with - except Ezra, of course, but that's for reproduction, you understand. ... Why are you smiling? What have I said?"

"Thalassa has already become bedmates with Ezra," Kalyndra said.

"She insisted and we helped her," Devon added.

"I see. Well, she has my spirit, at least, if not my brains. Heaven knows what she's going to do with a child, aged eighteen. ... Never mind. It may not happen. ... All right, away with you and ask her. I don't need to tell you to love her well and you know how much she will love you two."

"Thank you, Madam," the girls said and hurried off to find Thalassa.

******

It was a merry dinner that night. It started early and ended late, even without any dancing or singing.

Thalassa was its joyful centre at first. After enthusiastically accepting Kalyndra and Devon's invitation she was overjoyed. Even chattier than normal, she hugged everyone, inviting them to applaud her good news. Finally Calliope whispered to her to calm down, after which Thalassa sat quietly between her new bedmates, holding their hands and neglecting her dinner.

The rest of the feast was devoted to the story of the salvage operation, which had to be told several times by the principal actors, each cross-examined for missing details.

At least Yumi had the excuse of fatigue to refuse to tell her story again. Ezra was not so lucky. The night-rain had begun before the Mariner Tribe let him go to bed with Cressi to enjoy the last night of their week together.

In the hut, Cressi didn't undress but stood in lusty anticipation, clasping her hands together in front, waiting to know what Ezra would do to her but not wanting to spoil it by asking.

Ezra spoke gently at first:

"Cressi, you're here to obey me, so this is my first order: if, at any point, for any reason, you want to stop, just say 'stop', shake your head or make some noise and I'll stop. If you're in pain, or uncomfortable or you've just had enough, ask me to stop. It's important you obey me in this. I won't enjoy myself if you don't enjoy yourself."

"Of course, if my cock's in you and I'm nearing the end and you say 'stop', then I won't be able to stop myself. That's just your hard luck. Any other time, I'll stop and find out what's wrong."

"Don't think you have to endure something unpleasant just for my sake. You don't have to prove anything to me. Do you understand?"

"I do," Cressi assured him, somewhat apprehensive, despite herself. His warning was intended to reassure her but it had the opposite effect, inspiring fear of the kind of thing that might make her want to beg him to stop.

She had little time for nerves, however, because he took her in his arms and kissed her. He held her tightly, caressing her back. Cressi leant into him, standing on tiptoes, her neck straining upward. It was a sensual opening and she melted into the kiss. When she was nicely responsive and getting turned on, he slapped her bottom and pulled away.

"Oooh!" she exclaimed, liking it.

"Hold your arms out," he ordered sharply.

She obeyed, smiling, pleased tonight's performance was about to begin.

First he tied her wrists, leaving a good length of rope, which he threw over one of the roof beams, pulling it tight to lift her arms up. When her arms were straight, he bent down to tie her legs together at the ankles and with a leather strap around her thighs just above the knees.

She was beginning to strain with supporting her own weight, balancing precariously on her toes.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Yes." She was enjoying the stretch and the restraints.

He pulled the rope a bit tighter and she rose to the tips of her toes, barely scraping the floor unless she put more strain on her shoulders. It was a frustrating torture but one she could easily endure for now.

"Open your mouth," he commanded.

She complied and he gagged her with a rope tied twice around her face, forcing her mouth to stay wide open.

Ezra gently unpeeled her clothes, dropping them to the floor. As he stripped her, his hands lightly brushed over her thin tight body, an erotic touch that made her tingle with expectation.

She hummed pleasantly. He ran the back of a fingernail gently up her thigh, over her waist and up an arm.

"Ahh!" she sighed, relishing the soft touch.

He ran his fingernail back down, this time diverting over a tit, circling but not touching the nipple, down over her belly and along the front of her thigh.

"Ahh, ahh!" she sighed again. This was lovely.

He did it a third time, tracing a line on the inside of her thigh, along the fine hairs around her pussy, dipping briefly into her belly button and up through the gap between her small firm tits around her throat and up the other arm.

She was sighing deeply and beginning to catch her breath as he completed the pass, going downward and stopping at the small of her back. She moaned when he took his hand away and pushed her bottom out to invite his attention again.

He smacked her bottom.

"Uh!" she jumped and lost her footing, taking the weight on her shoulders.

He helped her settle on her tip-toes again and then restarted, caressing gently. She began to squirm as he brushed a nipple. He dipped a finger between her buttocks and gently brushed it alongside her pussy and again down her leg, frustrating her.

She was beginning to buzz as the tension built - which he interrupted with another spank, harder this time.

The next pass took longer. Roaming his hands over her sweet young body, he ended with a finger resting against the slit of her pussy. She bucked, trying to envelop the finger. He pulled away and gave her another good hard slap, making her swing from the rafter.

"Uh, uh!" she cried, then he steadied her, holding her by the waist.

Cressi was enjoying the game. The spanks were erotic and encouraging rather than painful. She could play like this for ages. She sighed her appreciation after every round and began to breathe heavily with arousal.

Next time it was tickles. He attacked her waist and she shook with laughter - until he spanked her hard again, stunning away her giggles.

"Ooh!" she moaned in stinging disappointment.

Ezra held her still before tickling her again, teasing fingers in her armpits and around her neck. Her ears were sensitive. He attacked her waist again, making her cry with laughter, until she was panting from lack of air, followed by a much harder slap on her bottom that took the last of her breath away.

He did it again and again, alternating malicious tickles with soft erotic caresses, his lips on her neck or ribs, gentle fingers running up her thighs, going further each time toward fingering her pussy or tweaking a nipple. The theme was to get Cressi moaning with lust or crying with laughter and then sabotage her pleasure with a hard spank, repeated endlessly.

It was working. Cressi's nipples were hard and she caught her breath even when he lightly brushed them.

The spanks were getting harder and more frequent, her cute little buttocks were bright pink and hot, yet the smacks were more exciting than painful. There was more discomfort in her shoulders, which strained every time she swayed and lost her footing.

Ezra took one of her tits in her mouth and gave it a good suck. Cressi moaned with her eyes shut. Her pussy dripped. Her pink labia were swollen. She wanted his cock in her but the gag stopped her asking and when she tried to bend her body to push against him, all she got was a firm smack on her bottom, followed by pain in her shoulders until he set her on her toes again.

He sucked the other tit and an exploring finger found its way just inside her pussy to spread the moisture up to her clit. She buzzed under the sensual touch. Cressi held her breath and braced herself, waiting for the inevitable spank to sabotage her sexual yearning but it didn't come.

She held her breath while the spank was delayed. She looked at him but he turned her around. Cressi felt his lips on the back of her neck, kissing down her spine. She sighed deeply and shut her eyes. Then the spank came: the hardest yet.

She moaned loudly, twisting in the air until she faced him again, feet scrambling for purchase. He steadied her in the cruelest way possible, holding her by the nipples. She stared at him with defiance that turned into lusty acceptance as he squeezed harder. The pain metamorphosed into hot desire.

She tried to lean into him, was pushed away, turned around and spanked again, a torture as frustrating as it was exciting. The gaps between spanks became shorter.

He sucked hard on a tit again and pushed a finger into her slit. She was sopping wet. He rubbed inside. Her head fell back and she moaned a lusty needful moan, wanting his touch - hands, his mouth, his cock.

Her breath caught as he spanked her again. Her moans were urgent. The strain on her shoulders increased when she momentarily lost strength in her calves and couldn't stand on tip-toes. Cressi protested for real, shaking her head, begging him to stop. Ezra stopped immediately.

"Are you all right?" he asked, removing her gag. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No, I'm fine. It's just that my shoulders ache. Can I change position, please? I don't want you to stop."

He unhooked her and laid her on the bed, on her front, her legs still tied together. He fastened her wrists to the bedstead and spanked her some more, just to hear her cry out; but Cressi only yelped quietly a few times. She'd entered the zone where numb heat was more enjoyable than stinging pain. In between spanks, she moaned deeply in her throat with a submissive keening, aching for a different kind of treatment.

He saw the change and felt her heat. It was time. He knelt behind her, pulled her onto her knees, sticking her bottom out, and stuffed his cock into her, thrusting hard.

She came immediately. There was a quivering spasm in her vagina and a gasping joy she felt all over. Her tied-up legs shook and she writhed in frustrated satisfaction as he pounded her hard. She came again, moaning loudly, feeling strain in her legs and chest, arching her back, trying to stretch her body out.

He smacked her bottom a few times as he thrust. She cried out from lusty excitement, goaded toward another orgasm. The spanks and the restraints magnified her pleasure at being used for his satisfaction.

She was too tightly tied to buck against him but she was free to moan as loudly as she could. She breathed heavily and responded to every thrust with a cry of urgent pleasure.

It turned him on like nothing else and soon he was near his own ecstatic finish. He grabbed her tits tightly and hammered her quickly for the last few thrusts, groaning loudly. They came together at a final peak, her muscular rhythm matching his pulsating ejection. He rammed her a few more times before the oppressive joy waned and he could relax.

Untied and massaged with soothing oil so she tingled warmly, Cressi was in a place of special contentment. She lay on him, clinging tightly.

"That was wonderful!" she enthused. "When can we do it again?"

After a wash and a rest, Ezra tied Cressi to the bed, her arms and legs spread wide. He gave her a gentle flogging with a soft leather strap. It excited her to a lustful pitch and he left her tied when they made love again, face-to-face. Cressi came hard and slept well afterward.

5

Wildchild left her horse at the paddock to the north of the Cloner City. There was a wooden shelter with troughs of water filled nightly by the rain. The food-troughs were empty at the moment but there was plenty of grass for her horse to nibble and a strong fence to prevent her wandering off. No other horses were stabled there at the moment.

Wildchild tied the blanket over the horse and hung the tackle on a peg. She made her way into the city.

Although the Cloner Fair had only just finished, yet a visitor was still an occasion and many women greeted Wildchild as she made her way to the Council Hall, where she knocked on the front door.

It took a few minutes before Hazel, the pretty blonde Junior, opened the door. She looked at the scruffy tom-boy in the man's clothes, caked in dust from the journey, a hefty pack on her back and a bow and a quiver full of arrows over her shoulder. Lines of sweat ran down Wildchild's grimy face.

"Yes?" Hazel asked, a question lacking the famed friendliness of the Juniors.

"My name is Samothea. I've come to join the Juniors."

"Really?"

Surprise made Hazel sound ruder than she meant to be. She gave the girl a close scrutiny, thinking there must be a mistake.

"Gloria invited me," Wildchild explained with amazing self-restraint, meeting the tall Junior's haughty gaze.

"'Madam' Gloria," Hazel corrected. "Wait here," she added, turning on her heel and going inside. Hazel was not pleased to hear a vagabond in man's clothes address the Cloner chief so familiarly. She hoped Madam Gloria would clear up the error.

Wildchild waited patiently on the steps in the strong afternoon sun, blaming herself for not getting off to a good start by forgetting her manners. It was because she was so unaccustomed to speaking. She determined to do better.




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 16



A few minutes passed and the door opened again. It was Gloria, with Hazel behind.

"Hello, Samothea," Gloria said. "Welcome to the Cloner City. Come on in. I expect you've had a hot and tiring journey. Hazel will show you to the Junior dormitory, where you can wash and change your clothes."

"These are my clothes, Madam."

"I see. Well, we expect the Juniors to dress in a more traditional manner. Hazel will fit you out with some new garments. The fashion at the moment tends toward the frilly and feminine. I hope you won't mind."

Wildchild minded very much but she was resolved to be the most obedient Junior she could be, so she said nothing and meekly followed Gloria into the hall.

"Why haven't we seen you at the Cloner Fair before, Samothea?" Gloria asked.

"I've not been since I was eight."

This was no explanation but Gloria let it pass, not wanting to pry for the moment. The truth was that after Wildchild became Tamar's protector, she always stayed away from the Cloner Fair, which Tamar had never been to, for obvious reasons. The Herders couldn't risk letting the snatched child be reclaimed by the Miner tribe.

"Did you walk all this way on your own?" Hazel asked.

"I rode."

"You have a horse?" she exclaimed.

"I expect it was a gift from Solange," Gloria said. "She was quite your advocate last week. ... You can keep your horse here, of course. Hazel will arrange with the Farmers to deliver the feed. It will come out of your wages, and you must care for her only in your spare time. It mustn't impinge on your duties as a Junior."

Wildchild nodded.

Hazel was amazed that Gloria was accepting as a Junior a girl so unschooled that she didn't speak up when she was addressed. She gave Wildchild a meaningful look. She understood.

"Yes, Madam," Wildchild said. It was the meekest she'd ever been.

"Are you good with your bow?" Gloria wondered.

"I learned only this year," she answered modestly.

"We'll see tonight. We'll have an archery contest in the Hall. What do you say?"

Again, Wildchild had to go against her nature, which was too proud to compete. She began to nod but saw the same look on Hazel's face and spoke up, saying: "I look forward to it, Madam."

As Gloria rejoined the councillors, Hazel led Wildchild up the stairs to the Junior dormitory. The other two Juniors, Jenna and Preeda, were waiting on the Council and could manage on their own, so Hazel helped Wildchild make up her bed and showed her which wardrobe she could use. The bathroom was next door, with its buckets of rain-water warmed in the sun and cakes of clay to use as soap.

Hazel told Wildchild to wash while she found her an appropriate dress. Normally unashamed of nakedness, Wildchild hesitated to strip in front of Hazel, who was waiting, watching her closely.

"Come on, girl!" she said. "I need your clothes so I can take them to be cleaned. Or shall I throw them away? Do you really want to keep them?"

"Please keep them," Wildchild said, surpassing her previous record for meekness.

"Hurry up, then," Hazel ordered.

Wildchild began to strip by unbuttoning her shirt, forgetting her necklace, which had been tucked away inside but now fell forward. Hazel saw it and gave it a keen glance. Wildchild quickly grabbed the pendant and undid the chain, putting it in a pocket of her backpack.

Jewellery wasn't so rare that Hazel was surprised Wildchild had a necklace, but it did seem incongruous on this particular girl. Also, from her brief glance, it looked like an exceptionally fine piece.

Hazel took a good look at the new Junior as she undressed. Whatever she thought of the girl's dress-sense and manners, no one could deny that she was handsome. Wildchild had wavy black hair, wide-set luminous green eyes, high cheek-bones and a button-nose in a heart-shaped face with a small determined chin.

Her powerful athletic body was graced with sweet breasts, small and firm, their light-brown nipples pointing upward. Her waist was thin, with blocks of muscle that were clearly-defined but not too prominent. Her buttocks were firm and round over strong thighs with a gap between her legs.

Hazel had thought Megan represented the peak of athletic beauty: now she added Wildchild to that accolade. It was an honest admission because Hazel didn't seem to like the girl very much.

When Wildchild had washed and dried herself, she returned to the dormitory to see the dress Hazel had picked out. It was a pink summer-frock with frilly lace edging on the neck and sleeves. The hard-bodied athletic girl put it on uncomplainingly. In fact, she looked rather pretty, especially when she pulled the white belt tight and innocently emphasised her new-grown curves.

Her wild hair was shaken dry, however, and not combed. Grooming was something Hazel would have to work on. Meanwhile, she hoped Wildchild would also wear her necklace, so she could get another look at it, but it was left in the backpack as Wildchild declared herself ready to learn her duties.

"It's best if you just shadow me to begin with. I'm sure you'll catch on pretty quickly," Hazel said. "Your first task is to learn how to curtsey."

When Wildchild was adept at that anachronistic manoeuvre, Hazel explained who the councillors were and how they were to be addressed. Now the new Junior was ready to go downstairs to help with dinner.

"How good are you at washing up?" Hazel asked.

In the Council Chamber, the councillors had ended their meeting and were relaxing around the table, waiting for an early dinner.

Wildchild was shown to the kitchen, where the cooks had finished. Jenna and Preeda, carrying loaded plates to the table, said "Hello" to Wildchild as they rushed past with their burdens. Hazel gave Wildchild an apron and showed her to the cloths and a fresh bucket of water to wash up the cooking pots. She left Wildchild working and helped the other Juniors until the councillors were catered for and it was time for the Juniors to enjoy their own dinner in the kitchen.

Now Wildchild got to meet Jenna and Preeda properly. They thought she was shy and a little introverted, though Hazel couldn't wait to get them alone and tell them that Wildchild was actually a bit of a mystery-girl, with her horse, her man's clothes and her necklace.

After dinner there was more washing up. When it was done, Hazel said to Wildchild:

"Take off your apron and go into the Council Chamber. Madam Gloria wants to talk to you."

Amazing herself by her obedience, Wildchild entered the Council Chamber, curtsied and stood silently before the great table.

The eyes of five dignified women inspected her. For once in her life, Wildchild was intimidated; but not for long. At first she blamed her dress for making her feel like a girl. Then she smiled to herself at the absurdity of being shy and lifted her head to meet the imposing gazes of the councillors.

"Ladies," Gloria said, "we have a new Junior I'd like you to meet. This is Samothea."

"Samothea Galateasdaughter Herder," Madam Recorder said, automatically.

"I'm a Woodlander, Madam," Wildchild corrected, her boldness resurgent.

"Woodlander, you say? I'll update our records."

"I like your choice of frock, Samothea," Gloria said. "It suits you."

Wildchild thanked her with her best curtsey but she didn't smile because it wasn't the kind of praise she desired or often heard.

"This is the girl Solange made such a fuss about last week," Gloria reminded them. "She knows she will be treated exactly the same as the other Juniors. But I think she doesn't like to be questioned much about her past."

Wildchild acknowledged this fact with meekly down-turned eyes.

Gloria doubted her strong hint would protect Wildchild from the inevitable prying; yet the girl was here to learn and must fare as best she could on her own, relying on her natural charm and intelligence to protect her privacy.

"Ladies," Gloria concluded: "tonight's entertainment is archery. If your dinners have gone down sufficiently, we'll have the targets out. I'd like to see how adept our young Woodlander is with her bow."

Archery practise was always an open invitation to all the Cloners, many of whom had bows, though they never went hunting. Word was sent throughout the City and those councillors who wanted to compete went to collect their weapons while the Juniors carried the targets from the storeroom.

Wildchild quickly fetched her bow and quiver from the dormitory. She was back in time to help the Juniors set up two large A-frames with barrel-shaped straw targets held together by thick leather straps. Bull's-eyes were painted on the centres of the targets.

About thirty women stood at the far end of the hall, fifty feet from the targets, making two lines.

Allowed three shots each, most of the archers hit the target but only a few of their arrows hit the bull's-eye. Even fewer penetrated the thick leather. Many just bounced off. Wildchild joined the end of a queue. By the time it was her turn to shoot, four arrows were stuck around the edge of the bull's-eye.

Gloria came over to watch the Woodlander girl and her interest brought silence. The women crowded about Wildchild. If they meant to intimidate her, it didn't work. She tightened on the leather arm-strap that Sharne had made, took a sideways stance at the line and composed herself.

There was keen interest and some whispering when she pulled out a glass-tipped arrow. Like most of the Woodlanders' arrows, the Cloners' arrows were sharpened to a point and hardened in the fire. Some had stone tips: fewer had ancient metal tips; but none had glass points.

Wildchild loaded her arrow and straightened up, pulling back hard. The bow creaked under the strain, its string groaning, but she held steady and raised her aim to the target. She breathed out slowly and held her breath, closing one eye to make a final adjustment and loosed the arrow. It flexed as it shot away, whistling through the air in the dead-quiet of the hall.

There was a thump as the arrow split the leather coat of the target inside the bull's-eye and passed all the way through. The glass point shattered against the wall with a splintering crack. Feathers were left in the target. The arrow was ruined; but Wildchild had triumphed and the women cheered. They mobbed her, admiring her prowess with the bow, wanting to see her arrows.

"Well done, Samothea!" Gloria enthused. "That was fancy shooting! How did you get glass-pointed arrows?"

"I made them, Madam," she said.

"How did you make them?" Madam Scientist asked.

"I melted sand and poured it into a clay mold."

"Remarkable!" Madam Scientist exclaimed. "If you have some time, I'd like you to show me."

"Yes, Madam."

After more congratulations, the evening's fun was over and it was time for the Juniors to put the councillors to bed. Back in the dormitory, the girls wanted to learn all about Wildchild. Preeda began:

"You're brilliant with that bow!" she exclaimed. "Do you use it for hunting?"

"Yes," Wildchild said.

"What do you hunt?"

"Pigeons mostly."

"What else have you hunted?" Jenna asked.

"Ducks, swan, quail, ra ..."

Wildchild was about to say "rabbits" but stopped herself. She didn't want to say that she'd visited the White Mountains. She didn't want to boast about her adventures to girls who had rarely, if ever, left the city.

"What were you going to say?" Preeda asked but Wildchild didn't answer.

"It's late," Hazel interrupted. "Let's go to sleep. Samothea can tell us more tomorrow."

Wildchild was unexpectedly grateful to Hazel. She lay down on her bed while Jenna and Preeda exchanged a puzzled look. Hazel blew out the candles.

Hazel had guessed what Wildchild was going to say. As a Farmer, among whom resided the remnants of the Miner tribe, she knew there were rabbits in the mountains. Hazel kept this fact to herself, though, to ponder the mystery that was Samothea.

Wildchild didn't sleep at first. Although she'd become used to sleeping on a bed while living with the Woodlanders, their mattresses were hard-worn and patched up. The mattresses in the Junior dormitory were of good quality, with springs and plenty of cushioning.

Just like Megan, who had found her bed too soft, Wildchild put the bed-clothes on the floor to make a nest and slept more comfortably there.

6

Next morning in the Mariner Settlement, Cressi and Ezra were the last to join the tribe for breakfast. Cressi had marks from last night's spanking but rather than hide them under her clothes, she wore her short skirt high and bent over more than she needed to, exposing the marks. She got a little interest from some of the women and an indulgent smile or two. What she didn't expect was jealousy from Kalyndra; but the older girl seemed to resent Cressi showing off and made a couple of catty remarks. It was unusual and Cressi brushed it off for now.

Nothing else happened until after breakfast, when Kalyndra was meant to go on a fishing raft, while Devon and Cressi were to help the matrons at the salt-pans.

Kalyndra asked Devon if she would swap places with her. Devon was happy to do so and didn't ask why. Working at the salt-pans all morning, fetching buckets of sea-water to pour over the large leather sheets as the matrons raked off the dry salt, Kalyndra continued to goad Cressi with more catty remarks. Cressi answered back forcefully and the argument got increasingly bitchy and unpleasant.

Ezra chopped wood that morning and brought the loads to the camp-fire as the women began to drift back into the camp for lunch. He heard a commotion. Two girls were fighting at the salt-pans, pulling hair and screaming.

It was Kalyndra and Cressi. The girls struggled together but it wasn't an even combat. Although Cressi was fast and had sharp claws, Kalyndra was heavier, stronger and six-inches taller.

The fight ended on the floor, with Kalyndra kneeling on Cressi, pinning her arms down, ready to slap her, when she felt herself being pulled up by the waist and lifted in the air.

"Come here, you," Ezra said. He half-carried, half-dragged Kalyndra out of the camp and down to the beach. Some of the women followed but Ezra barked at them.

"Leave us alone!" he said and they held back.

On the beach, he ordered Kalyndra to strip and when she was slow to obey, he walloped her bottom hard.

"Strip!" he ordered again and this time Kalyndra obeyed. Ezra also undressed down to his shorts and walked into the sea.

"We're going to the island," he said. "Come on. You need a lesson."

Kalyndra hadn't spoken since Ezra grabbed her and if she resented being man-handled and ordered around, she made no protest. She swam fast and he struggled to keep up with her. On the island, he made her wait while he caught his breath, then he tied her to one of the palm trees so she was hugging it, standing with her bare back exposed.

He gagged her with a rope. She turned her face so she rested a cheek against the trunk while Ezra stripped a palm leaf to make a flogger from the stem. He walloped her bottom with it hard. The flogger stung and made her gasp. He hit her again. She grunted. His strokes left hot purple bruises. The flesh of her buttocks throbbed and ached.

He flogged her thighs, calves, shoulders and everything except the small of her back. She yelped and cried out, despite the rope gag, breathing quickly and squirming against the tree in a futile but instinctive urge to avoid the biting whip.

When she was red and hot from the harsh punishment, he removed her gag.

"Tell me why you attacked Cressi," he demanded, "or I'll turn you around and flog your front!"

She refused to talk but met his harsh gaze with a bold defiant look, daring him to do his worse.

"So be it!" he said.

Ezra secured Kalyndra between two palm trees, her arms and legs spread wide. She still stung from the previous flogging but was strong enough to bite her lip and stop a whimper escaping. She shut her eyes and held her breath, waiting for the punishment to continue.

He whipped her hard on the stomach. She cried out. He did it again. Now she couldn't help herself whimpering.

He flogged the fronts of her thighs, her belly and the insides of her thighs where it hurt the most. She shrieked and twisted, shrinking away from the flogger, trying to escape the stinging blows. He stopped.

"Tell me why you fought with Cressi!"

When she refused to explain herself, he flogged her again, harder. She screamed, panting and sweating, weeping from the pain.

She was bright red all over, purple bruises criss-crossed her skin. Tears and snot dribbled down her face, but she stood boldly upright between the trees, ropes holding her arms and legs outstretched. He placed the flogger against her tits, resting it on her big hard nipples. She looked up at him.

"Kali, I'm asking you for the last time," he warned, "and if you don't answer me, I'll whip these. Do you understand?"

She nodded.

"Tell me why you attacked Cressi."

Kalyndra shook her head and Ezra pulled his arm back. It was like slow-motion. She saw the whole thing long before she felt it; but reality caught up quickly.

The flogger smacked against her tits. She shrieked and sank down on her ropes. A bright red line crossed her chest. Her nipples throbbed. The pain was excruciating; yet when the pain abated, a strong heat descended to her pussy, which also throbbed. She was soaked and wanted an orgasm as much as the punishment.

Ezra rested the whip against her tits again. She was panting and weeping and didn't look up; but still she shook her head.

Whack! He struck her tits a second time, compressing them with a violent stroke.

Despite the agony, Kalyndra had more wet ache in her loins, more need for his domination and control. She refused to answer once more, craving punishment, aching for the pain and the pleasure, and once more he whacked her nipples, the hardest yet.

That was it! That was her limit! Her body convulsed. She shook with an orgasm, collapsing forward, bent over, trying to shield her tits from the whip.

The hardest punishment she could endure, the worst pain she could take, gave her an exquisite orgasm she felt all over her body, taking her breath away, sending her mind elsewhere, the hot pain spreading out over her skin as a pleasantly tingling warmth. Her flowing tears were a true release. She wept from pain but also for joy because it was Ezra who had made her cry.

"I'm messed up!" she thought, "but I need it."

Kalyndra flinched as Ezra raised his hand for another blow. It was her sign that she'd had enough.

"Tell me why you attacked Cressi," he ordered.

She tried to talk but the words caught in her throat, strangled by her pants and sobs. She got her breath under control, swallowed and tried again.

"I ... I was jealous ...," she stammered. "I didn't want you to dominate her the way you dominate me. I don't want her to be your slave as well. I want to be your only slave."

"Cressi isn't my slave and nor are you. We're only playing. I was playing with Cressi, as I do with Devon and you."

"Please, Ezra? I need this. I love you, like nothing else in the world. I want to serve you. Please don't reject me?"

"I'm not rejecting you but I don't want a slave. I love you Kali, I cherish every moment I've spent with you. You're mine forever. You don't need to obey me or serve me ..."

She looked down, so he wouldn't see the disappointment in her eyes, the loss of hope, the resignation to knowing he didn't want her full submission. Yet he saw it all and couldn't bear to hurt her.

"... but, if it will stop you fighting with Cressi, or anyone else who likes to be tied up and spanked, then you can be my slave. You can serve me, exactly as you want."

She raised her head, her eyes shining brightly, the tears flowing, her face illuminated with joy.




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 17



Author's note:

My usual apologies for tardiness in completing these chapters. Thanks to everyone who commented and voted. There are three chapters to go. Please bear with me.

Some of the things about the outworld settlements and hyperspace engineering learned in chapter 12 are relevant here.

I hope you enjoy the chapter.

*****

1New Exeter

In the twenty-fifth century, long-range communications through hyperspace were conducted by comms probes: cylinders packed with electronics, incorporating a parabolic transmitter at one end (called a 'burster') and shallow receiver dishes at the other end (known colloquially as 'sniffers').

On every hyperspace route, amid the passenger, freight and military traffic, innumerable comms probes tagged along for the ride, bouncing out of hyperspace to transmit their stored messages in high-frequency bursts, briefly sniffing out waiting messages, then bouncing back through the beacon into hyperspace, as if they were on elastic leashes.

Nearby the beacons were huge transmitting stations relaying the messages onto other comms probes or decoding them into normal radio waves to be beamed to their recipients on a nearby planet or space-station.

Even with nearly-instantaneous travel through hyperspace, however, there was a necessary delay as the probes talked to each other and the relay stations transmitted the signals.

The delay between Celetaris, where Danielle and her students worked on the Samothea Project, and Earth, where Roger worked on his video film, was about twenty minutes. It was even longer when Roger and his film-crew took trips to outworld planets, conducting interviews to learn how the settlements had fared after independence from Earth.

Because real-time conversation was impossible, Roger insisted that Danielle and he send each other a weekly video to watch at a set time. So every Sunday afternoon, at 6pm Galactic Standard Time, the lovers sat comfortably in their chairs to view each other's messages.

Danielle once tried to explain to her husband that they weren't really viewing the videos at the same time (there being no such thing as simultaneity in Einstein's relativistic universe); but Roger took the ceremony so seriously that she smiled and loved him all the more for his unshakable romanticism.

Her current video featured a guided tour of the University Campus, starting in her spacious apartment, with its simple decor and picture-window overlooking the gardens. From the apartment, she walked in bright sunshine around the recreation centre and shops and across a wide lawn to the Physics Faculty in the Science Tower, a vortex of plasti-glass and plasti-steel, twisting a thousand feet into the clear blue sky of Celetaris. Here her team worked in an open-plan office lined with charts, books and huge computer screens.

Down the corridor from her office was the laboratory. Like physics labs throughout the galaxy, there was more equipment crammed into it than could ever be profitably used. Danielle zoomed in on a 3-D printout of the first design for the motor by HyperStar Japan. It was only a toy - its flaring wave-guide a distinctive feature - but Danielle was proud of it, as a promise of something to come.

The video transformed into a series of cameos from her colleagues. Confronted early in the morning by a cheerful Danielle and her intrusive videophone, Professor Jakovs managed only a brief scowl before pointedly closing his door. Danielle met up with Professor Martlebury and her gentle unassuming husband walking in the rose-garden. They smiled kindly, not quite sure to whom they were sending a message but happy to oblige their bright young colleague.

Rosa and Herman (now officially an item) waved cheerfully to Roger from one of the student apartments and Li Qu Yuan smiled shyly from a desk in the well-stocked library. She added a recording from Jonathan Wright, talking from his laboratory on Earth about his ambitions for the new beacons.

After a tour of the canteen, showing the sumptuous dinners the university provided, the video ended in the gardens again, with their fountains, their box hedges cut in straight lines by fastidious robots and the rows of brightly-coloured bedding plants, beginning to bloom in the warm Celetaris spring.

Roger's video that crossed with Danielle's was different. It began in his usual way, with out-takes by the film-crew - Roger tapping the microphone, asking "Is this thing on?"; Roger walking off camera saying "Are we still filming?"; and, best of all, Roger stepping in a fresh cow-pat on Naseby battlefield - but he interrupted his own blooper reel with excited, unexpected and very welcome news.

"Darling!" he spoke rapidly, standing in his office. "I've got good news. I've persuaded the director that we need to include Celetaris in the program. We're coming to film there in three weeks, on the way home from New Exeter. I'm going to interview your President. We don't need to wait to meet up at Capella. I'm coming to you!"

The rest of the video was a travelogue of places Roger and his film-crew had already visited, ending with leisurely shots of the cows on Naseby field, idly munching grass as the sun set behind them.

Danielle was laughing, even crying a little from pleasure. She sent a joyful message to her husband, saying she'd meet him at the astroport and couldn't wait for him to arrive. Then she cancelled her trip to Capella. She was too agitated to do anything except go outside and walk off her excitement, pacing up and down without purpose on the lawn, neither seeing nor hearing those whom she passed.

******

About three weeks later, Roger, his cameraman, sound-recorder and the director landed on New Exeter.

Once temporarily Marazonia, New Exeter was a small cold planet, originally dry and sandy, now with grey-blue oceans and green forests smothered in snow at the poles. On their way to the astroport, they flew over the main city, set beside a large river in the southern temperate zone, its arterial roads like the arms of an octopus, grasping hold of nearby settlements.

A smiling young man from the Mayor's office met the visitors on the landing strip, introducing himself as the Mayor's political aide. Like the astroport workers and customs staff, he wore a thick fur coat with fur gloves and a fur-trimmed hat. He took them to the capital in his ground car.

They drove past farmsteads and small settlements of single-storey houses with large cottage-gardens from the days when trade subsided and the colonists needed to become self-sufficient in food.

Small wildflowers glinted with dew in the weak morning sunlight, lining the way to the city. So did hundreds of political posters; evidence for a recent election.

"Re-elect Mayor Grandley!" the blue posters shouted; and "Turn on the generator: warm our planet!"

In response, buff posters announced: "Save our fur-trade!" and "No new taxes!"

"Who won the election?" Roger asked the young man.

"Mayor Grandley, of course," he said, proudly. "She always wins."

"What's this about a generator and the fur trade?"

"It's all historical. The generator is left over from when the planet was being terraformed. It burns hydrocarbons to heat our homes and offices. It also heats up the atmosphere by releasing water vapour and carbon dioxide. But we have to import the fuel and it's expensive, so the generator was turned off long ago to save money and the climate never heated up as much as was planned."

"Then the fur trade got started," he continued. "Wild animals were released into the forest and rich people paid to come hunting here. Now we trap animals as well and sell the pelts or make them into clothes. New Exeter makes the best fur-coats in the galaxy."

"I'm sure it does," Roger said, impressed by the young man's enthusiasm.

"Hunting was our biggest source of hard currency for years;" the boy explained, "but now the economy is doing well generally, Mayor Grandley wants to turn the generator back on."

"And the fur-trade opposes her?"

"That's right. They think it will hurt their business. The animals with the best furs, like bears, mink and sable, prefer the colder weather. But the fur-trade also said she had no right to put a new tax on the people. We have no income tax or corporation tax at the moment."

"That's even more impressive," Roger said. "So how will Mayor Grandley pay to fuel the generator?"

"I don't know. She's meeting the appropriations committee this morning. We'll soon know what she's permitted to do. A customs duty on the fur-trade would be best, only because it would annoy our opponents so much."

Roger was amused but didn't take the young politician's opinion seriously.

The car deposited them in the main square of the capital city. There were hotels and shops on three sides of the square and a splendid town hall on the fourth. Its grey clock-tower was the tallest building on the planet. An eighteen-foot-tall statue of Alexander Marazon lay flat on the ground in front of the hall, its legs smashed, its face bashed out of recognition, a mute testimony to the people's judgment.

Around the statue, filling the square and the nearby streets, were stall-holders: fur-traders, dealers in gem-stones, farmers and miners from the asteroid belt, all in heavy parker coats against the chill wind. Tourists meandered through the stalls, interested principally in the gem-stones and the furs.

There were green stones, dark-blue stones and jet black stones. The green stones were semi-opaque and glinted inside with yellow flames (which the advertisers were marketing as 'dancing angels'). Dealers examined the gems with microscopes while tourists sifted through the trays, holding the prettier stones up to the light, trying to see the angels.

These were just the pretty gems: most of the stones went with other products of the asteroids to industrial dealers who crushed or dissolved them for their chemical elements.

The pelts were stacked in piles on tables or hung as finished garments on rows of metal hangers. Keen buyers felt the skins and loaded them by the armful onto ground cars, while tourists tried on individual coats, gloves and hats. Business was thriving.

Roger and his crew were led into the town hall, whose ground-floor was a food-court filled with stalls of local produce and imported exotic fruits. A handsome stone staircase under a crystal chandelier led to the Mayor's office on the second floor.

It was a simple room and unheated, like the rest of the public part of the Town Hall. Most of the Town Hall was now occupied by private companies, who heated their rooms; but government staff all wore fur coats (some also wore gloves and hats) and shivered conscientiously in their offices.

Mayor Esther Grandley was a stout imposing woman, grey-haired with a kindly face that belied a stern centre which revealed itself in a no-nonsense manner and impatience with time-wasters. Not that she judged Roger to be a time-waster, yet.

She had a heavy tweed suit on under a warm synthetic coat. Her jewellery was a necklace of green stones and a bracelet of alternating blue and black gems, their sharply-cut faces glinted in the light from the lattice windows.

"I can allow you exactly forty-five minutes," she said, glancing at her desk clock, then giving him the full focus of her clear hazel eyes.

Roger sized up Mayor Grandley immediately and kept to his script with only one deviation:

"Congratulations on winning the election, Ma'am."

"Thank you, but I lost the vote this morning in the Appropriations Committee. I cannot turn on the generator because the Committee won't release the funds to import methanol to power it, nor grant me tax-raising powers."

She dismissed his sympathetic comment.

"The fur industry wins this round," she said, "but I will have another go next year and the year after; and maybe men sympathetic to me will win places on the Appropriations Committee."

"Didn't you just win a majority?" Roger said. "Isn't democracy the rule of the majority?"

"I see you're playing devil's advocate, Mr. Harcourt," she replied in a admonishing tone; "but I read your book as soon as I learned the name of my interviewer."

He smiled his appreciation.

"I know you don't believe the majority has absolute power in a democracy," she said, "nor that democracies are typified by mere voting. Ours is a democracy because, if the people want me out, they can get me out peacefully, by legal measures. Tyrants are rulers who cannot be removed peacefully."

"We know this more than any other settlement in the galaxy," she continued, "because Alexander Marazon was elected by a large majority of our ancestors but he changed the constitution so that the people couldn't get rid of him at all, however many of us wanted him gone in the end."

"Was everything that Marazon did bad?"

"Of course not. He started the fur industry, for example, though that was really for the sake of his carpet-bagging friends and only to make the most of the cold climate after economic failure meant we couldn't afford to import fuel. Marazon wasted the millions he stole from the Settler Company with handouts to voters."

"Was the settler company entirely in the right?"

"The settler company was short-sighted to over-charge us for rents, especially when the mining franchises failed to sell and galactic trade slowed down. They had terraforming costs to recover, of course, but rather than compromise, they allowed Marazon to tap into a sense of resentment."

"But it wasn't the Settler Company's fault that trade contracted and miners didn't come," Roger suggested.

"True, but the original reason to colonise New Exeter was the minerals on the asteroid belt. Business only slowed for the mines there and they've been at pre-slump levels ever since Marazon was exiled. In fact, he sold them off too cheaply to fund his welfare state and his vanity projects, such as this monstrous Town Hall and that vulgar statue."

"Could the Settler Company have extended their loans or deferred rent arrears?" Roger asked.

"Not easily because they had other debts; yet they did extend the loans after Marazon was expelled and New Exeter applied to re-join the AngloSphere. As you know, at that time, because of the Marazonia debacle, there was a change in the law extending the Settler Company's monopoly over their colonies to one-hundred years after first settlement. Just five years ago there was another change in the law."

"Yes; a further extension," Roger concurred.

"Now a Settler Company can apply to have exclusive rights to colonise a planet for another fifty years, so long as a representative of the Settler Company visits the planet or the colony itself applies for an extension."

"As we've found the Settler Company to be amenable to our requests for re-financing," Mayor Grandley said, "New Exeter is one of the colonies that has asked to remain attached to its Settler Company for another fifty years. I'm glad to say that Outworld Ventures agreed."

Roger absorbed this.

"So," he asked, "if you believe in liberal government, why do you want to increase government spending and create new taxes?"

"Aha! Good question, young man. The answer is that a temporary measure for a specific purpose was always part of the settlement plan. Our constitution allows for legal appropriations to complete the settlement plan."

"Then why did the Appropriation Committee refuse you the funds?"

"A bad reason, believe me. My opponents put it about that I oppose the fur trade because I disapprove of hunting."

"Do you?"

"I most certainly do; but that's not my reason for wanting the generator turned back on. That's another problem of democracy: that arguments about personal motivations succeed when rational arguments about facts fail. I don't think you cover that fully in your book, which rather naively obscures the differences between a democracy and a republic."

"I see."

He paused to consider this criticism.

"So what else can you tell me about the process of becoming an independent polity within the AngloSphere?"

"It is slow, bureaucratic and frustrating," she said with a weary sigh, "especially when disputes with private companies are concerned. Things stretch out in the courts and costs spiral. Tensions between Earth and the outworld settlements just make things worse."

"But we are in a good position," she concluded, "now that the Settler Company will underwrite our loans for the next fifty years. In fact, New Exeter has begun to thrive. Both homeworld and outworld settlements are happy to trade with us. We're seen as a good investment. Best of all, since we abolished taxation and stopped all state hand-outs, the carpet-baggers and welfare tourists have left."

"But why re-join the AngloSphere? Why not be completely independent, or make friends with the Sino-Russian Federation?"

"Because our colonies do better than theirs."

She paused and then smiled knowingly at him, saying:

"That was another question you already knew the answer to, Mr. Harcourt. In your book, you argue that our colonies prosper because the AngloSphere is a loose confederacy that allows many different political systems, so long as they use the English language for commerce, law and diplomacy. We are successful because of our individualism and our objective laws. A businessman in a dispute can be certain of getting the same impartial judgment on Capella Spaceport or New Exeter as he can in Britain or Japan. The law in other regimes and off-world settlements is less reliable."

It was a full answer and Roger had the idea that the lessons from his work were understood better by a tiny colony of only ten-thousand people on a cold planet at the edge of the AngloSphere, while Earth, with its nine billions, and the homeworld colonies, with their hundreds of millions, had no clue why they were successful and strong.

He left New Exeter with mixed feelings: pleasure at a successful interview, but disquiet that the lessons from the history of Marazonia had been learned only on Marazonia itself.

2Celetaris

Danielle met Roger and his film-crew at Ocean City astroport. They managed to bundle the film-crew into a taxi to a hotel and took her jet-car for the hour-long journey to her apartment in Art City. Though they had things to tell each other, there was no chance to talk because they leapt on each other as soon they got into the car. She returned his passionate kiss, holding him tightly, pressing her tongue into his mouth, but with presence of mind enough to press the button that made the windows opaque. Then she lay back into the wide seat and pulled him on top of her, wrapping her legs over his waist.

They didn't undress, just loosened their clothing in the right places. Roger's cock was rock-hard in seconds and Danielle was wet and ready even before he took a mouthful of tit and sucked hard.

"Oh, God! Darling. I can't wait!" she cried and he plunged his cock into her.

"God! God! ... Oh, God! ... That's wonderful, Darling. ... My God, I've missed you!"

That was the last coherent thing she said for a while as she lost herself in the uncontrollable lust, holding his head to her tit and bucking her pelvis wantonly in time with his urgent thrusts. She moaned deeply and arched her back, stiffening and holding her breath as the first jolt of an orgasm careered over her body, shaking her thighs. It was a foothill, not the mountain-peak. She stiffened again and cried out, her head back, her eyes tight shut while her legs shook and her pussy spasmed.

She climbed to another climax - stronger, more intense - but Roger couldn't last long. Breathing heavily, another dozen hard thrusts and it was all over for him. He kissed her hard as he pumped his seed deep into her thrusting body. The peak came like a dam-burst, a flood of pleasure and a release from months of tension.




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 17



He lay gently on her, brushing her hair, kissing her lightly.

They chatted for a bit as their breathing and heart-rates settled down. Danielle did most of the talking, expressing the wifely concerns she'd promised herself to avoid; but Roger was looking thin and tired.

"I'm fine," he assured her, "and I'm ready for more. Come on."

Danielle was ready herself, not having quite reached a second peak. She climbed on him and they kissed until she felt the welcome prodding on her thigh, when she manoeuvred herself to envelope his cock. Then she rode him all the way home.

They never left the bedroom all the next day and were happy but sore in just the right places when they returned to Ocean City for Roger's interview with the President. Then they parted for another three months, concentrating on their work to stifle their longing.

3In the forest

On Samothea, at more or less the same time that Roger left Celetaris, Ezra strode into the forest with a water bladder slung over a shoulder and a small pouch of red clay tied to his belt.

It was three days since he'd gone to the Forest Camp to check on Annela's health. Thankfully, she was recovering well. There had been no repeat of her dizziness and her headache was clearing up. Now he was off to the meeting-place to light the beacon and wait for Solange. The clay was to put on the fire to send up an orange smoke-signal.

When he was some miles from the camp, he crossed a glade bordered by clumps of bushes. As he crossed, two pairs of crafty eyes secretly observed him, well-concealed from within the thicket.

The hidden watchers let Ezra get a hundred feet away, then they emerged from their hides and began silently to follow him. They carried their weapons low and communicated only by hand-signals.

A mile further on, Ezra emerged into another glade. As he did so, he heard a whoosh and a thwack. Alarmed, he span around. There was an arrow embedded in a tree ten feet behind him, quivering with spent energy.

He turned again, to see where the arrow was shot from and he was attacked. Something - neither beast nor man - leapt on his back with a high-pitched shriek and clung around his neck. Instinctively he tried to shake it off.

"Hold still," his assailant said in a gruff menacing voice. "You're our prisoner. We've captured you."

"The hell you have!" he exclaimed. "Who are you?"

"Are you going to come quietly?" she asked, "or do I have to cut your throat?"

Her disguised voice was familiar but he was disoriented. There was something pressing against his neck. He stood still.

"That's better," she said. "And no reaching for your penknife."

Ezra pulled his hand out of his pocket but he was suspicious. The woman clinging to him was very light and not particularly strong. He span around and twisted away. His attacker was easy to dislodge. She began to fall. Ezra grabbed her and held her at arm's length.

"Tamar!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing and why are you covered in leaves? ... Good God, girl! You're naked!"

She laughed.

"I'm camouflaged."

"You're very well camouflaged," he admitted. "I didn't see you at all, nor Carlin. I assume she was the deadly assassin who shot at me."

Carlin came out from her hiding-place and smiled at him, brandishing her bow. She was also naked but smothered in mud, leaves and grass.

"Thank you both for scaring me half to death," Ezra said. "My life was obviously too settled."

He let Tamar down. She was still holding the short stick that she'd pretended (with a touch more realism than he thought necessary) was a knife at his throat.

"Why are you both naked?"

"We were out hunting pigeons," Tamar explained. "We stripped naked and dived into a mud-pit, then we rolled in leaves and grass so we could be invisible and sneak up on them. But we saw you and decided to track you instead."

"Where are you going?" Carlin asked.

"To the meeting-place, to summon Solange."

"Are you leaving today?"

"No, I need to tell her I'm staying here for the rest of the month."

"I'm glad," Tamar said. "Now you can have sex with aunt Adarna. She's been waiting patiently and mum wants you and her to be bedmates. Will you? She's very sexy. She's got big tits."

"Big tits aren't sexy," Carlin said.

"Sure they are," Tamar said. "Isn't that right, Ezra. Big tits are better."

"I'm sorry to disagree with you, Tamar, but there's no better or worse with breasts. They're all beautiful."

Tamar wasn't convinced but smiled to herself.

She and Carlin walked with Ezra a few minutes toward the meeting-place but the pigeons in the canopy were taunting them with their cooing and soon they decided to continue their pigeon-hunt. Gaily saying goodbye to Ezra, they skipped off into the forest, arrows loaded on their bows, and were soon invisible, camouflaged against the leafy bush.

At the meeting-place, Ezra lit the fire and threw on the thick earthy powder to make an orange smoke. Then he set to chopping firewood for the store with the old stone axe the Woodlanders left there for this purpose.

By the time he heard the sound of hoofs, he'd worked up a good sweat and replenished the stock of firewood. He looked up and there was Glynn, a blonde Herder, trotting up to the meeting-place, looking warily either side, her spear at the ready in her hand.

When she saw Ezra was alone, she stowed her spear and slowed to a walk, calling to him as she approached.

"Hello, what's the emergency?"

"No emergency," Ezra said. "It's a signal for Solange."

He explained his agreement with Solange, that he would light the signal when he was ready to be picked up by the Herders.

"All right, then. Climb up. I'll give you a lift."

"I'm sorry, Glynn, but I've decided to stay with the Woodlanders. I'll come and join you Herders next month. Can you tell Solange this please?"

"I can. Is that all?"

"No. One more thing. This is important. When I visited the Cloner City, I suggested to the three chiefs that the Cloners could have the Emergency Escape Pods from my ship in exchange for their help; but the Cloners couldn't help me and now it's imperative that the Cloners don't get them. Tell Solange she's not to remind the Cloners about the pods."

Ezra had never given a woman on Samothea an order before, except during sex; and here he was giving orders to the chief of the fractious Herder tribe, the proudest leader of the proudest women.

Glynn was a little shocked. She couldn't guess why it was so important to him but Ezra sounded passionate so she nodded and agreed to pass on his message.

"Anything else?" she asked hopefully but Ezra didn't see the hint and shook his head. With a rueful smile to herself, Glynn pulled her horse around.

"I was travelling with the tribe to the Northern Camp when we saw your signal," she said. "If Solange also saw your signal, then I'll probably bump into her on my way. Will you wait for her?"

"No. ... Glynn, please apologise to Solange for causing her an unnecessary journey? I'll see you all in a month."

******

Back in the Forest Camp, Ezra spoke to Annela and then Mirselene, getting the agreement of one and the ready approval of the other for him to take Adarna as his bedmate that month. Then he went to prepare the Honeymoon Lodge, clearing acorns out of the water-butt, shaking out the mattress and making minor repairs to the window-shutters.

Some of the rafters on the roof seemed flimsy but he judged they would last for now. He had a plan to replace all the banana-leaf roofs with wooden tiles but the Lodge was not so urgent and could wait.

Ezra was relieved that Annela was feeling much better. She had no repeat of her fall, nor even any light-headedness; but she was sorry he wouldn't be sharing her bed. She was still not up for sex but the last three nights, when he held her warmly, or she slept with her head resting on his chest, while Freya was snuggled safe and sound between them, were extremely happy for her.

That Ezra was content to sleep with her without wanting sex was a special delight. More even than his whispered confessions of love, this confirmed to her how he really felt. Annela smiled happily and let him go. Besides, she liked Adarna, who was calm and helpful without any pretensions.

That day, Adarna was part of a foraging party, harvesting figs with Eloise, Sharne and Dagma. This was a task the two ex-Miners enjoyed because the figs grew beyond a stand of broad-leafed trees watered by a small stream deep enough to bathe in. It was damp, cool and dark beneath the trees. Leaf-mulch turned the rivulet brown but a hot body could get relief on the way back to the camp from a dip in its cool water.

Used to the cold dry winds of the White Mountains, Eloise and Adarna were taking a long time to acclimatise to the warm damp lowland forest. For Eloise, it was love of her daughter that inspired her to endure the heat and humidity. For Adarna, it was love of her friend, affection for her new tribe and, just as strongly, the prospect of bearing a child of her own.

Eating packed lunches in the shade of the trees and bathing in the cool stream on a hot airless afternoon was one way to make forest life more comfortable. Now that Sharne and Dagma were suffering the heat from advanced pregnancy, they often joined them, making a cheerful foursome who were content to walk in friendly silence (a characteristic of Eloise entirely at variance from her lively voluble daughter) and to rest naked in the pool, letting the bubbling water carry their excess heat away downstream.

As the women lay relaxing in the cool water, their clothes left by the large stack of harvested figs on the river-bank, there was a scream and two human missiles landed in the pool, detonating water everywhere. It was Carlin (who couldn't jump into water without screaming) and Tamar. They splashed about, swimming and writhing to dislodge the caked-on dirt from their skins.

"Yael!" Eloise exclaimed. "Did you have to frighten us all?"

"Sorry, Mum," she laughed.

"Come here, let me wash you. Sit still, girl. You've got mud everywhere!"

"You're tickling me!"

"Then sit still."

Carlin made less fuss. She patiently allowed Dagma to wash her back.

As the women combed their hair after the bath, Tamar and Carlin told the story of what they did that day and the hopeful news for Adarna.

At the feast that night, when Mirselene announced the new arrangement, there was the usual chorus of good wishes for Adarna's eggs and Ezra's sperm before the couple retired to the Lodge carrying extra supplies of food and fresh linen.

They chatted about inconsequential things on the way, skirting around the obvious subject. Ezra's experience with Urulla, when his silence had almost spoiled their first night together, had taught him to be more engaging; but it didn't come naturally and soon he ran out of small-talk. It would be an awkward situation anywhere, taking a woman (not a prostitute) he barely knew away for sex. What should he talk about?

Adarna had the answer. She was a confident woman in her early thirties and knew exactly what she wanted from their time together.

"I can't tell you how much I've been looking forward to this, Ezra," she said. "It's all I've been thinking about for ages."

"Well that doesn't put any pressure on me at all."

She laughed.

"I see what you mean. No, it shouldn't. I know you won't disappoint me, regardless what happens. It will be the best sex I've had in years."

"How can you know that?"

"Because I haven't had sex in years."

That certainly broke the ice and got them talking about the pertinent topic.

"I don't want to pry," he said, "but are you saying there's a problem between you and Eloise? It doesn't seem that way to me."

"Nothing like that. In fact, Eloise and I are just as much in love as we've always been; but we're also just a normal couple. Unfortunately, this is how it is with us women - most of us anyway. For the first year that we're bedmates, we can't keep our hands off each other, having sex at least once a day. After a year, it's down to a few times a week. After two years, it's once a week. Then once a month; then a few times a year; and, finally, once a year, if you're lucky. I haven't been very lucky."

"I didn't know that. Can you tell me why?"

"I don't know exactly but I think there are two important factors. One is that the less sex you have, the less sex you want."

"It's different for men, at least for me," Ezra said. "The less we have sex, the more we want it. Sex-starvation is hard to endure and gets worse with time."

"That makes sense, biologically," Adarna agreed. "It also explains what your other bedmates have told me: that the more they have sex with you, the more they want it."

Ezra was very pleased.

"What's the second factor?" he asked.

"The partner with the higher sex-drive doesn't want to keep pestering her lover because she doesn't want to be a nuisance or be rejected. It's easier not to ask. It's like the neutral position."

"I see. So what effect will our month together have on you and Eloise?"

"I hope it will inspire her to want sex more often. Seeing me happy will remind her of what it used to be like between us."

"I'm flattered you think I'll make you happy."

"That's the thing I'm most confident of," she said smiling. "I've done my research."

That was true: she'd interrogated everyone who'd had sex with Ezra, listening intently, ironing out the inconsistencies in their accounts, and fantasising about her time with him.

She had a sudden thought.

"Ezra, I hope you don't think I'm using you to re-kindle my sexual relationship with Eloise?"

"Of course not; and I wouldn't care if you were. For whatever reason you want to be bedmates with me, I'm the one who gains the most. You're a beautiful woman, Adarna, and very sexy. I hope you get some pleasure from this month but I know I will."

"Hmm!" she said, in a knowing kind of way. "When you do get around to talking, you certainly say the right things."

"Nonsense! ... Here we are."

They'd reached the Lodge and he guided her inside.

Standing at the foot of the bed, the flickering orange light of the tapers were a shortcut to romantic feelings, casting bold dark shadows into the corners of the room and picking out their faces in warm highlights. Everyone looks good by candle-light, but Adarna really was pretty in a mature way. Her face showed confidence and serenity.

He pulled her to him by the waist and brushed her brown hair from her cheek.

"You are beautiful," he said, her hands on his shoulders, her body leaning into his.

"Do you say that to all your bedmates?"

"Yes, but it doesn't mean it isn't true."

She smiled.

"This is going to be fun," she said.

Adarna waited in a polite and ladylike manner for him to start, eyes modestly down, until she laughed to herself and made a grab for him. She put her arms around his neck and pulled his head down to hers. They kissed in an unhurried way, savouring the first moments of passion: a long-lasting kiss with the lips only, until she pushed the tip of her tongue against his.

The kiss grew warmer as she felt the excitement of his body pressing against hers.

He didn't need to undress her. As soon as he pushed a hand into her shirt, she slipped it off completely. She pulled her skirt down soon afterward, when he put his hand to her thigh and stroked around to her bottom. Now she was naked and he stepped back to admire her.

Adarna was medium height with medium-length brown hair, big luxurious tits with smooth pink nipples, wide hips, curvy thighs and a thin waist giving her a sexy hour-glass figure.

She didn't mind being looked at but she wanted to look at him, to undress him slowly. She undid the buttons on his shirt and gently pushed his hand away when he tried to help. He let her take off his trousers and she sank to her knees.

This was something she planned, having months to ask his other bedmates what to do. His cock sprang up when she pulled down his shorts. He stepped out of them and she feasted her eyes close up on him, as much curious as full of lust. She got comfortable on her knees and, practising what his other bedmates had told her, powered by the joy of learning and an urge to please him, she greedily took his cock into her mouth.

Adarna sucked well, taking him down slowly, swirling her tongue around and releasing him with a sexy little popping sound. Though it was new to her, she quickly found that she liked it. He groaned with pleasure, which encouraged her more.

Quickly, he was fully hard and thought it was his turn to please her. He pulled her up and led her to the bed and guided her onto him in the sixty-nine position.

Smiling, she took his cock into her mouth again, presenting her own bottom to his face. He licked along her slit, adding to her wetness, making her hum quietly. Then he worked his tongue around her clitoris. She really liked that. After a while, she was so turned on, she began to neglect his cock, raising her head and sighing deeply.

He turned her around and laid her on her back, pulling her legs up so he could push his tongue further into her pussy, giving her a pleasant tension by pulling her nether lips apart. He sucked on her clitoris and she arched her back, feeling a delicious tension, the nub of joy spreading its warmth through her thighs and back.

As he sucked on her clit, he pushed a finger into her pussy and felt around for the sensitive spots, pressing on the tendons and stretching the muscles. She sighed deeply and, as he worked her harder, started moaning loudly. She began to buck and closed her eyes tightly, grabbing handfuls of the bedsheet, her arms spread wide. He pushed a second finger inside her and stroked her g-spot. That got her going even more.

She stiffened as the first orgasm hit her, arching again, wetting his chin with her juices. He continued licking her clit. She bucked again and began to shake her head as she moaned in ecstasy. She was so responsive and eager, he could easily read her. He gave her another orgasm and got her to cry out in joy. This was the moment she let go completely, losing herself in sexual pleasure.

He kept fingering her as he kissed up her belly to her juicy tits and sucked on a hard nipple. She put her hands on his shoulders and gripped hard. The urgency of her moans, her heavy breathing and the strength of her grip on his shoulders told him she was ready.

He kissed up her neck and planted his mouth on hers. She kissed firmly, eagerly, inviting him to take possession, to penetrate her with tongue and cock. He sunk deeply into her and began to fuck her slowly.

It was comfortable, satisfying, middle-aged sex. Adarna was in no hurry but, confident and assured, she enjoyed every kiss, every touch, every suck and every thrust. Her pleasure came in enchanting waves. They kept up the rhythm for ages, shaking the bed, heating the cold night air with their bodies.

Then it was the last few frantic moments when she gasped and cried out in erotic spasms. She had a final orgasm and her ecstasy triggered his own finale. He took one more mouthful of a big soft tit and pulled back to thrust even faster, making her buck in response; then he pulsed his spunk up into her, his hands gripping her tits.

They collapsed together, whispering and kissing, resting and loving, until he was ready to go again.

******

They had sex next morning and, by lunchtime, were up for it again. Ezra lay on his back and Adarna rode him, fucking to a stable rhythm.

She moaned sweetly, her eyes shut, working up to an intense fulfilment. They couldn't hear the faint scratching noises on the roof of the Honeymoon Lodge, as fingers carefully pulled apart some of the overlapping banana leaves, making holes for crafty eyes to spy on the lovers.




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 17



A few minutes later, Adarna reached a peak and wailed her ecstasy, filling the room with her happy cries as her thighs shook and her back arched. It was her first peak and she had more to come. She carried on the rhythm. Ezra lent forward to suck on one of her big juicy tits.

"See, I told you!" a small voice on the roof whispered.

As Ezra sucked happily, there was a creaking on the roof. One of the secret watchers adjusted her position to get a better view. There was a louder and longer creak.

"Oh, no!" the small voice said.

Despite his state of sexual fervour, Ezra was aware of something wrong. He looked up and saw an arm and a shoulder coming through the ceiling. There was a crack and Ezra rolled Adarna over, onto the floor, as Tamar - yelling "Blazes!" - fell through the roof and landed heavily on the bed, followed by a broken rafter and some banana leaves.

The fall knocked the wind out of the girl and she lay lifeless on the mattress.

Ezra pulled away from Adarna and, still naked, rushed to check on Tamar. He felt her pulse. It was fine but she wasn't breathing and her eyes were closed. He was about to try mouth-to-mouth resuscitation when she opened her eyes and took in a large breath, after which she breathed fitfully but gradually more strongly. He pulled her onto her knees and held her, telling her to breathe deeply.

From the floor, Adarna looked up and saw a worried face peeking through the hole in the roof.

"Carlin!" she said, "come down here right now and explain yourself!"

There was a scrambling on the roof and down one wall, then a meek-looking blonde girl appeared in the doorway, looking contrite.

"Is she all right?" Carlin asked.

"Yes," Ezra said, "she was only winded."

To prove it, Tamar raised her head and smiled at her friend.

"Sorry, Adarna, sorry Ezra," Carlin said. "We just wanted to learn about sex, and you two are so beautiful together."

"Never mind that," Adarna replied with authority. "Ezra, you need some clothes and, Yael, what am I going to say to Eloise?"

Tamar was still struggling to breathe calmly. She just shook her head so Carlin answered for her.

"Please don't tell her, Adarna?"

"But it's not just today's escapade, is it? Yesterday, you two stalked Ezra, then you dive-bombed us at the pool. Who's to say what you'll get up to tomorrow?"

"We're sorry, Adarna," Carlin said. "We'll be better-behaved."

"It's not Carlin's fault," Tamar admitted, able to speak at last. "These were all my ideas. Please don't be angry with me?"

"I could never be angry with you, Sweetheart," Ezra assured her, "but I think we need to find something for you to do to use up your excess energy."

He knew she missed Wildchild and had noticed that she'd given up reading. That wasn't worrying: teen-age bookworms often avoid books for a while; but it gave her more spare time, which she was putting to bad use.

Tamar did her chores conscientiously but they took up only half the day; after which she was free to do as she pleased. She could be useful, hunting pigeons or helping the foragers and woodcutters bring back their loads; but lately she wasn't so productive; and she had brought Carlin in on her schemes.

Ezra thought for a minute.

"All right," he said. "I have an idea, but before I say it, I want you girls to promise me - Tamar especially - that you won't construe it as a reward for being damned nuisances."

Tamar looked at him with her big brown eyes shining.

"I promise," she said.

Carlin also nodded.

"Would you girls like to come with me when I visit the Herders next month? My plan is to go prospecting in the Southern Mountains to try to find some minerals that the Cloning Kits use. Tamar, you can guide me to the caves you and Wildchild hid in when you escaped from the Herders. It's not much of an adventure but at least it's something."

"I definitely want to come," Tamar said, hugging him. Carlin smiled her agreement also.

"There's only one small problem," Adarna warned. "Eloise will have a fit!"

"Oh!" Tamar and Ezra said together.

"You're surprised? Really? Ezra, you want to take Yael back to the tribe who snatched her, probably to meet the woman who pretended to be her mother? Eloise will go spare!"

"I suppose so," he said.

"Judith's nice," Tamar said, referring to her Herder-mother. "She loves me."

"Don't you dare say that to your mother!" Adarna protested.

"Could you talk Eloise around?" Ezra asked.

"I very much doubt it," Adarna said, with conviction.

"Will you try?"

"I suppose so. ... All right, I'll try. But, as you say, Ezra, this shouldn't be construed as rewarding bad behaviour. It's a way of making Yael useful. ... Talking of which: what about the roof? The hole is directly above the bed."

That afternoon, Carlin and Tamar helped Ezra repair the roof, doubling-up on the rafters. With a steel axe and a laser-knife, the work was quick and easy; after which, Ezra sent the girls away, saying he and Adarna had something to finish and they were not to be spied upon or interrupted.

Smiling sheepishly to each other, the girls skipped off into the forest, as Ezra and Adarna had a wash and then continued where they'd left off a couple of hours ago.

Soon she was riding him to a steady rhythm and he latched onto her generous tit again, sucking a big nipple hard into his mouth.

Her head went back and she sighed deeply, then made sweet moans as he put two fingers on her clitoris and rubbed. That got her going. She shook her head from side to side. The pleasure began to overwhelm her. The interrupted orgasm snuck back into focus, beginning as a strain in her thighs and a tingling along her spine.

She arched further and Ezra let her nipple go. She was close. He held her shoulder with one hand and worked her clitoris harder with the other. Now her moans came from her throat, loud and urgent. She lent back further and his cock rubbed the delicious nervy spot of her vagina as she thrust to the finish, muscles straining, tits shaking, joy cascading around her body.

4With the Herders

Dipti's waters broke ten days before she was due and she had a short labour. It was an easy birth, to the happy relief of everyone, especially after the trouble Annela had with Freya.

Ezra supported Dipti as she squatted and Urulla rubbed her nipples (on the theory that an orgasm might induce delivery). Dipti didn't need any help. Though it took some hours to reach the point, when the time came all it took was a lot of good pushing and some satisfying wails before Dipti squeezed out the tribe's newest child. Parvinder was particularly happy, holding her granddaughter to her wrinkled face, humming a tune.

This time, no one made the mistake of regretting the child wasn't a boy (at least, not in the hearing of Mirselene).

Dipti called her 'Krupa'.

Sharne was due in another month and was becoming impatient. Ezra wanted to be there for the birth but she knew he would be away and assured him she would be fine; so he accepted her word, said "Goodbye" to all his bedmates, and went to the monthly meeting of the three tribes.

There was a commotion as soon as the Woodlanders arrived. They were the last there and, when they emerged from the forest into the clearing, a cry went up from within the crowd of women busily making their exchanges.

"Where is the man? Where is he?"

There was a jostling as Penny, the tall Herder with the mighty shoulders, forced her way through the crowd calling for Ezra. She sounded annoyed, at least Ezra thought so, from behind the group of Woodlanders.

"Show me the lad! Show me Ezra!" Penny cried.

"Here I am," Ezra said, bravely striding forward somewhat daunted (to the amusement of the onlookers) by the big woman's urgency.

Penny leapt at him and crushed him in a forceful embrace, lifting him off the ground and lavishing his cheek with a firm kiss.

"My boy! You good, good boy!" Penny boomed. "You good potent boy! I could hug you forever!"

Ezra's voice was stifled as Penny squeezed all the wind out of him. After a minute, Solange took pity on the poor man.

"Let him breathe, Penny," she said and, reluctantly, the joyful woman released him.

"Vera is pregnant," Solange explained, "as I expect you've guessed."

"I'm very glad," Ezra responded, somewhat weakly, now he could breathe again.

The rest of the meeting went well, including a request Ezra had for Solange.

"Can I ask you a favour?" he said.

"Certainly," Solange replied. "I like it when you're in my debt."

"Please will you invite Carlin and Tamar to spend a month with the Herders?"

"They're always welcome; but are you sure this is what Eloise wants?"

"No, that why I need another favour. Will you persuade her?"

"You mean persuade her that, if Yael visits us Herders, we won't try to kidnap her again?"

"Yes. She'll trust you."

"She won't but I'll try if it's important to you."

Solange sought out Eloise. As she approached the tall blonde woman, she loosened the leather jacket she wore, undoing the buttons. She also undid the top of her leather shorts.

"Eloise," she said. "Ezra has asked me to assure you that we Herders have no intention of kidnapping Yael again. He seems to think you'll take my word, but I don't believe that, so let me show you something."

Solange lifted up her jacket and pushed down the top of her shorts to expose her waist. There was a big scar on one side, fully healed but painful-looking.

"This is where Ezra stabbed me with his laser-knife when we had a disagreement last year. You can trust him to do the same again if I don't keep my word to you regarding your daughter."

"I see," Eloise said. "Thank you, Madam, I trust you."

The two women nodded to each other and that was that. So, at the end of the meeting, Yumi, Carlin, Tamar and Ezra left with the Herders, riding down to the mid-way camp, which they reached in the afternoon.

Tamar and Ezra shared a horse, taking turns to steer her. Carlin rode behind Megan and Yumi rode behind Glynn. As the horse jolted and shook her the whole way, she wished that she'd stayed with the Woodlanders. That Solange, Megan and a few other riders were clearly pregnant reassured her that the bumping wouldn't endanger her child, so she was more worried about her buttocks than her belly.

At the camp, Yumi settled in well, making friends with Ash, who spread out a bed for her in a hut they would share. Solange meant to spent the night alone with Ezra, so her bedmate, Ash, was reluctantly banished for the night.

Solange listened to the tribe's problems, made some judgments and, after a wash in the stream and a good dinner, led Ezra away for the night.

She stripped naked in a completely practical and non-sensual manner and lay on the leather bedding on her back, her legs spread, her arms folded behind her head, her chest not quite so flat as before, her belly with a warm round bulge down to her tightly curled pubic hair.

Ash had doodled some more tattoos, so there was little of Solange's brown skin that didn't have purple designs, except her buttocks and inner thighs. Ash also left her face alone, which Ezra was grateful for. He didn't like tattoos.

As he stripped and lay down besides her, naturally aroused whenever he was in her naked presence, his hardening cock pushed against her thigh. He caressed her belly and leant over to kiss her.

Things heated up from there and pretty soon he was lying on her (careful not to put too much weight on her belly) and sucking on her tiny tits with their hard nipples. He pushed a finger into her twat. She was tight, as always, squeezing with her pelvic wall muscles.

He fingered her and felt her juices flowing. She gasped when he rubbed her sweet spot, widening her legs and pushing up her pelvis.

He kissed her again and she met his tongue with hers.

She was ready. She raised her knees and he pulled his finger out, held her shoulders, positioned his cock at her pussy and pushed. God, she was tight! They both loved this part of their love-making, when he had to force himself into her and she fought his intrusion with all her strength. He pulled out, pushed in again, further this time, his cock slick with her juices. Another withdraw and push in, and another, then he was inside all the way.

He pushed himself up on his hands to make a steeper angle and began thrusting. She hooked her ankles behind his thighs, using him as a fulcrum to thrust her pelvis in rhythm with his.

They looked at each other, eyes locked, as he plunged deeply into her, breathing heavily with the effort, loving her response as she thrust back, squeezing his cock. Then she spoke for the first time:

"I hear you've been giving me orders, Earthman."

"What?" he gasped, stopping his thrusts. He lay heavily on her, his hard cock still in her pussy. "Good God, Solange! ... You want to talk about it now?"

"When better? I've got your complete attention."

"Fucking hell, Woman!"

He held her by the hair, kissing her on the mouth. He began thrusting into her again.

"All right," he said, lifting his mouth from hers, "... just don't expect ... coherent answers."

He put extra effort into fucking her, pulling all the way out and thrusting hard back in, making her gasp and trying to make her lose her thread.

"When ... did I ... give you ... uh! ... orders?" he gasped out, his voice in a croak.

She had more control of her voice than him but still had to close her eyes and let out a moan every so often. She wrapped her legs across his back and let him do the work.

"Glynn ... passed on your commands to me. ... Oh God! ... You say ... I'm to do this; ... I'm not to do that."

He was thrusting in hard, sucking firmly on a nipple, a hand squeezing her other tit. She gasped and stroked the back of his head, eyes shut, trying to relax. She breathed out.

"Do you think ... you should be telling a ... ahh! ... tribal chief ... God! ... what she should do ... or ... shouldn't do?"

He rammed her a few times quickly. She stuck her nails into his shoulders and breathed heavily, keeping up her tight squeeze. He slowed to a more casual rhythm.

"I'm sorry ... Solange. ... I was ... agitated ... uh! ... at the time. ... I didn't mean to offend you. ... Forgive me?"

She was only teasing.

"What for? ... Oh God!" (He squeezed a nipple hard and smiled when she shook her head from side to side, moaning deeply.) "I'm happy you're ... finally throwing your ... weight ... around. ... ahh! ... Men should give the ... orders and ... Oh God! ... women should smile and ... obey."

Again he sped up for a bit and she panted into his ear, holding him tightly around the neck, her back arching, feeling the strain of a building climax.

"I don't ... believe that," he gasped out in a gruff voice, "and I know ... uh! you don't ... either."

Solange smiled and shut her eyes, letting the sensual joy wash over her. She was on the edge of a first orgasm. His mouth was on her tit again, giving it a delicious strong pull. The spasm began in her pussy and ran up her back and across her thighs. He felt the rhythmic squeeze and heard her loud and insistent moans. He loved this part: she felt her orgasms all over and it made her lose herself completely.

He held her head and pressed their mouths together as she came, her body stiffening and releasing in waves. She held him tightly with her arms and legs as the spasm passed.

Now there was no more talking as they fucked to the finish-line. Solange on her sexual plateau was a delight to fuck. Highly responsive and orgasmic, she came again and again in muscle-straining waves until, at last, he couldn't hold off any longer and, with a loud groan, held her shoulders and pushed in hard, splurging his juice into her rippling pussy.

A few more nervy thrusts and the tension lifted. He lay on her, recovering, exhausted for now but satisfied.

She pushed him onto his back and straddled him, her hands on his shoulders, her head warmly on his chest, basking in the cooling embers of their passion.

"That was nice," she said. "So, tell me, Earthman, why don't you want to rule us mere women?"

"Oh God! Not this still?"

"Come on, you know I like to talk after sex."

"And during it as well, it seems."

His protests were belied by the tender way he caressed her back, running his thumbnail gently up her spine, making her tingle.

"Well, what's your answer?"

"Why don't I want to rule mere women? Because you're not 'mere' women at all: you're amazing survivors, who know your planet much better than I do. Also, it's wrong if no one will stand up against me. I don't want power. I never have. That's one reason I became a prospector. We usually work alone. So I never have to give anyone orders."

"What's wrong with liking power?"

"I just don't trust people who want power."

"Yet you trust us three chiefs."

"I know Mirselene took the job because no one else would. So did Calliope."

"What about me? I chose to become chief and I stood against two rivals, including the previous chief. How come you trust me?"

"Who says I trust you?"

"I do."

"All right," he admitted, "I trust you - because I've seen how you wield power. I can trust you to be fair, even when you have to be firm."

"You're a flatterer, Earthman. Why can't you be a fair ruler as well? Besides, I don't want power just to boss people around. I have a plan ... and I think you do, too."

"I don't have a general plan," he said, "but I have some specific aims. I can tell you one of them."

"Why you need the emergency escape pods?" she guessed.

"Exactly."

Ezra never liked keeping secrets from the three chiefs. He was happy to tell Solange what he intended.

"Yes, that's a good reason," she agreed. "All right. I'll help you with transportation, but I hope it won't come to that. ... Meanwhile, I have an order of my own for you."

"Yes?"

"Fuck me hard again!"

******

The next night the Herder party reached the Southern Camp and settled in for the next three weeks. The women leading the herd arrived back at dusk and took their places at the campfire for dinner. One of the Herders caught a glimpse of long golden hair over a stick-thin body and cried out:

"Tamar, my girl, you're back!"

The woman rushed up to Tamar and hugged her, kissing her, holding her tightly.

"Judith!" Tamar cried. She hugged her Herder mother, the women who had snatched her and brought her up. "I've missed you. This is my friend, Carlin."

Judith had to tear herself away from Tamar to greet Carlin. Her eyes were wet.

"How come you're here, Darling?"

"Carlin and I came with Ezra and Yumi. We're staying a month, Mum ... er, I mean, Judith."

"Oh!" Judith exclaimed and hugged Tamar again. Now the tears flowed down her cheeks.

"That's more sentiment than I can stand," Solange said to Ezra. "Come on Earthman, I need you to fuck me in the arse. ... Never mind your dinner."

He quickly grabbed a last mouthful of food and obediently followed her to her hut.

"Solange, what about me?" Ash asked.

"You can enjoy yourself."

While Ezra made Solange squeal from mixed pleasure and pain, Ash and Yumi shared a hut. Like last night, they stripped and used their naked bodies to keep each other warm. Yumi was getting used to this friendly intimate habit but none of the women she'd shared a bed with had suggested there was anything sexual intended. However, Ash seemed to have a different idea.

"Do you want to kiss?" she asked, adding: "We can because I asked Solange's permission."

This was a curious statement for many reasons.

"Why do you want to kiss?" Yumi asked.

"To make each other happy, of course. Don't you make love when you go to bed?"

"Not to women. I'm not a lesbian."

"What's a lesbian?"

Yumi was a little shocked. Yet, she thought, on a planet where sex between women was universal, there was no need to give it a special name.




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 17



"A lesbian is woman who loves other women," she explained.

Now Ash was shocked.

"Don't you love other women?" she asked.

"Not in that sense. Not sexually."

"Why not? Women are lovely!"

"They are but I don't have sex with them."

Ash thought about this and then asked:

"Is it because there are so many men on Earth that you don't need to have sex with women?"

"No, not really. I mean, it's not that women are second-best. It just doesn't come up on Earth the way it does here on Samothea."

"Why not? Men and women are different, aren't they? I love sex with Ezra - I really love it - but I love sex with Solange just as much. Even if there were lots of men around, I'd still want sex with women as well."

Yumi had no answer to that.

"I suppose it's just an Earth custom," she said, "especially the part of Earth I'm from. We generally keep to the same partner and having sex with anyone else, man or woman, is considered cheating."

"Even if your partner gives you permission?"

Yumi wondered at that.

"Even then. ... What did you mean when you said you asked Solange's permission?"

"Solange owns me. I have to ask her if I want sex with anyone else, and anyone who wants sex with me must ask her first."

"Solange owns you? Like property, like an animal?"

"Sort of, but much better. Don't you want to belong to someone, to have someone care for you and keep you by her, for herself?"

"Not really, not like that, though - I suppose - when I wanted to marry Michio, I thought he and I would belong to each other. ... Yes, I suppose I wanted him to own me, but I would own him just as much."

"That's nice, owning each other," Ash said in a conciliatory way, though she didn't believe it. She pulled Yumi to her and they intertwined their legs, pressing their naked breasts and bellies against one another, snuggling close to share their warmth against the freezing night air that blew through the cracks in the door of the hut as hail bounced heavily on the roof.

Ash was a simple girl. Not stupid or slow on the uptake, but open-hearted, trusting and faithful (except when it amused her to tease Solange by pretending not to be). She was certain that, sometime that month, Yumi would want to do more than just cuddle at night. She kissed Yumi on the cheek, rested her head on her shoulder and shut her eyes to sleep.

5In the Cloner City

In the Cloner City at this time, Hazel felt dissatisfied. Not unhappy, as such, but not as joyful as she knew she should be.

It was Wildchild who discomforted her; unintentionally, of course. Not that Wildchild was unhappy herself. The opposite, in fact: she had rarely been happier, laughing and joking with the Juniors, taking a real pleasure in all her new duties, now she no longer cared how silly they seemed. Wildchild was so content, she even allowed Hazel to hug her, twice a day, morning and night.

In almost every way, Wildchild was a good girlfriend. Eager to learn and keen to experience new things, she indulged Hazel's enthusiasm for clothes, jewellery and all the trivial prettifications that were the privileges of a Junior's brief career, suffering Hazel to brush her hair every day and occasionally apply make-up to her innocently pretty face. However, her hair always somehow got messed up again and the make-up accidentally washed itself off when Hazel wasn't watching.

For her part, Wildchild taught Hazel how to ride and use her bow. They tended to the horse twice a day and often took her for strenuous gallops. Now there were four Juniors, there was plenty of spare time, especially in the afternoons, when most of the councillors enjoyed a post-prandial nap and Gloria sat in her room reading.

So Wildchild was a good girlfriend but a bad bedmate. Hazel's frustration was sexual. Wildchild enjoyed kissing but she never held Hazel's hand in public and the daily hugs were brief, such as one might give a friend, not a lover.

They never slept together, not even for warmth. Sometimes, Wildchild would lie on the bed with Hazel, and they would kiss or hold hands, but when they began to doze off, Wildchild retired to her nest on the floor. Hazel blamed herself for them not yet having had sex. After all, she was the experienced one.

However, some remoteness about Wildchild held her back. Maybe it was something pure and pristine in the girl. Certainly, she was entirely innocent. She had never even masturbated. Most of the Herders enjoyed a pussy-rubbing stimulus from horseback riding; and many of them had achieved orgasm that way. But Wildchild never mentioned this. In fact, they never talked about sex, which was unprecedented for teenage girls.

The first few times they kissed properly, Hazel ran her hand along Wildchild's thigh but Wildchild didn't return the caress. Nor did she pull away. It was the same when Hazel gently passed her fingers over one of Wildchild's small breasts. Hazel imagined she was going too fast but Wildchild neither pulled back nor showed she wanted more. She was content to kiss as much as Hazel wanted but voluntarily went no further.

It was peculiar and frustrating but Hazel was a confident girl and believed Wildchild would come around eventually.

Schooling herself in patience wouldn't work for much longer, however: Hazel would be nineteen next month, after which she would leave the Juniors, reducing the time they could spend together. Hazel's problem was also complicated by something that had recently happened to make her jealous of Gloria.

It began when Wildchild was in her third week as a Junior.

At the end of the first week, Hazel and Wildchild had become girlfriends. They spent the next week always in each other's company. Hazel was flushed with love and content to wait for Wildchild to be ready for sex. Meanwhile, Jenna and Preeda were in a particularly horny mood and disappeared every night to a spare bedroom to make love. Even this didn't encourage Wildchild.

At the end of the second week, the Herders came for the monthly trade. They were led by Galatea and, when the exchanges were complete, the Juniors served them tea in the Council Hall.

Wildchild had on her frilly pink dress. Her jet hair cascaded in shiny ringlets down her neck. She entered the Chamber with a tray and presented the tea to the seated women. Then - with a barely noticeable moment of hesitation - Wildchild curtsied prettily to her mother. Galatea nodded a greeting in return and forced herself not to smile, in case her pleasure was misinterpreted. She was still walking on eggshells around her daughter. The potentially embarrassing moment passed and the meeting was a success. 

After which, Wildchild always curtsied to Galatea; and Galatea smiled and nodded to her daughter. They even spoke politely.

In the third week, Gloria and Wildchild became friends.

During the quiet afternoons, while the other councillors napped and Madam Scientist tinkered in her laboratory, one of the Juniors would bring Madam Gloria a glass of fruit-juice and some biscuits on a tray to her room. As usual, the Cloner Chief sat on her sofa, reading a book.

On the day it was Wildchild's turn to bring the refreshments, she knocked and entered the apartment, carrying a tray expertly in one hand.

"Set it on the coffee table, please," Gloria said.

Wildchild put the tray down next to a chess-set with the pieces laid out for a half-finished game. While she waited for Gloria's orders, Wildchild took a look at the chess-board. It was left over from Friday night, when Gloria and Sally (that is, Madam Scientist) played their weekly game.

"Can you play chess, Samothea?" Gloria asked when she finished her page and looked up from the book.

"No, Madam."

"But it interests you? Would you like to learn the rules?"

"Yes, Madam, I would."

"Very well. Sit down and I'll show you how to play - that is, if you have no more chores to do."

"No, Madam. After this, I'm free until dinner."

"Very good."

Gloria explained the rules of chess and the movements of the pieces; then she set up the pieces to start a new game.

"Are you ready to try?" she asked.

"Yes, Madam."

"Very well. White goes first."

Half a minute later, Wildchild lost her first game of chess to a fool's mate. She wanted to try again immediately and next time did better: losing in a dozen moves.

They played another three games. Each game took more moves and more time per move, so that, by the end, Gloria could genuinely congratulate Wildchild on being a quick study and having some feel for tactics.

"Thank you for the games, Samothea. Will you put the pieces back as they were for my game with Sally?"

"Yes, Madam."

Wildchild shut her eyes, conjured up the memory and put the pieces in place. She did so unhesitatingly and unaware that Gloria was watching her closely. She had no idea what an amazing feat of memory she'd just performed; and Gloria chose not to tell her, for now.

"Would you like to play another time, Samothea?"

"Yes, please, Madam."

"Tomorrow?"

"Yes, Madam."

"Then you can bring me my fruit-juice every afternoon and we will play for an hour."

Wildchild collected the tray, curtsied and left the Cloner chief to her book.

They started to play regularly and it was now that Hazel began to be jealous. Gloria hogged Wildchild in the afternoons that Hazel and she had previously shared; yet Wildchild seemed happy, telling her girlfriend how much she enjoyed learning chess. Hazel took this at face-value, but, deep inside, it made her wonder how much Wildchild loved her back. When she asked Wildchild what she thought of Gloria, Wildchild innocently replied: "I like her very much;" which didn't give Hazel any ease at all. She suffered another week of increasing discomfort.

After a fortnight of lessons, the players spent the whole session on just one game. For the first time, Wildchild played Gloria to a stalemate. Gloria smiled as she watched Wildchild restore the pieces to the places they'd been in for her game against Sally.

"So, Samothea," Gloria asked, "what should Sally's next move be?"

"Is it fair to ask me, Madam? What if Madam Scientist makes the same move, then you'll be prepared?"

"True, but I'm interested to see if there's any difference in how you and Sally see the game. If you don't want to play the move, just give me your assessment."

Wildchild looked at the board and concentrated.

"It's not your usual tactics, Madam."

"Go on."

"I know you favour your rooks. You usually protect them, but here you've sacrificed a rook for a knight or a bishop ..."

"It was the bishop ..." Gloria admitted.

"... you've made a queen-swap and you're losing four pawns to three, which you don't normally allow. ... Also, it was your right-hand rook, but you favour the right, you attack more from there than from the left. ... So I suspect you're getting ready to launch a feint from the left, using the bishop and knight, then you'll probably castle and attack down the middle."

Gloria smiled.

"Well I won't do that now because I'm sure my tactics are as transparent to Sally as they are to you. But I notice that you're seeing the game in terms of patterns, not pieces."

"Yes, Madam. I see that, now you've pointed it out. I see weak and strong areas of the board and the stance of the pieces as shapes. Your bishop and knights are a wedge threatening Madam Scientist's right corner but after you castle, they will join the rook to make an arrow down the centre. Your attack is defended by Madam Scientist's knight, rook and central pawns, making a wall."

"Very well put. I'm afraid, I'm not so gifted as you. I see the individual pieces and try to think ahead a few steps; but you're seeing the whole board. I won't be surprised in a month or two when you regularly beat me."

"Is that a psychological tactic, Madam, trying to lure me into over-confidence?"

Gloria laughed.

"No, an honest assessment. ... I'm very impressed with you, Samothea, and it's a real pleasure finding someone better than me. I play all the women here in the hope of finding a superior but the only one who plays regularly is Sally, and we're too evenly matched (and that's only because she's too impatient to really concentrate)."

Gloria leaned back on her chair and relaxed.

"Do you know that chess is a metaphor for warfare, Samothea?"

"Yes, Madam."

"But it makes you think, doesn't it? Why do the bishops move in diagonals?"

"I don't know, Madam. I don't know what a bishop is."

"A bishop is the chief of a religious sect."

It was the nearest she could explain. It reminded Wildchild of something.

"A religious sect, like a church?" she asked.

"Yes, exactly. How did you know?"

"Ezra mentioned churches when we first met."

"Well then you'll know that churches are meant to be peaceful, so why is there a bishop in the middle of the war?"

"I don't know. Please tell me?"

"The bishops were originally sailing ships and their diagonal paths represent 'tacking', which is how ships move against the wind."

"I see," Wildchild said. It made her think of the Mariners.

"Knights are horsemen, of course," Gloria added and, of course, Wildchild thought of the Herders.

"What do you think of the castles?" she asked, her large brown eyes observing Wildchild closely, waiting to see the light-bulb turn on again in the girl's head.

"A castle is a stone fortress," Wildchild said.

"Correct."

"Then how come castles can move, and why do they move in straight lines?"

"Do you know what the platform on the back of a fighting elephant is called, where the archers and spearmen stand?"

"Is it a 'castle'?"

"It is. ... So, we have ships, horses, elephants, lots of foot-soldiers (who rush forward with their spears), a king who stays close to home, whom the other side wants to capture, and a queen, a mere woman, who is the most powerful piece of all. What do you think of her, Samothea?"

"I've thought about the queen before, Madam. Chess comes from Earth, doesn't it?"

"It does."

"Then is the most powerful piece on Earth the king and is the queen the prize? Maybe we swapped those two pieces here to reflect our female society."

"An interesting theory, Samothea, but curiously wrong. On Earth, the queen is the most powerful piece and the king is the prize."

"I see. ..."

Wildchild paused to reflect on that item of information, though it made little sense to her.

"The metaphor is inaccurate," she judged, "because, in a real war, the pieces are moved by other pieces, not an outside hand."

"Very good. In fact, there is a hierarchy of command, from the General to senior officers down to junior officers and infantry."

"Is the king a General?"

"Yes."

"So it depends on who are the kings?"

"Exactly so," Gloria said.

"You're one of the kings, Madam ...," Wildchild said with conviction.

Gloria smiled, her eyes twinkling.

"... and Madam Mirselene is the other."

"Really? Mirselene? Not Solange or Calliope? Their tribes are stronger."

"But I'm a Woodlander!"

Gloria laughed. Wildchild may belong to the Woodlanders, but her pride was pure Herder.

The girl surveyed the board. She concentrated, frowning. Involuntarily, her hand hovered over a piece, as if she were going to play Madam Scientist's move for her. She stopped.

"Who's turn is it, Madam?" she asked.

"Good question, young lady. It's mine."

Wildchild smiled and withdrew her hand.

"Then I'd like to see how Madam Scientist escapes your trap, Madam."

"So would I, Samothea."

The women relaxed, enjoying each others' company in silence for a few minutes until the hour was over and it was time for Samothea to leave. She stood up and, unusually, Gloria stood with her.

"Samothea," she said, "what do you plan to do when your year as a Junior is over?"

"Return to the forest, Madam."

"Your tribal loyalty is very commendable, but your talents deserve a wider arena and a bigger audience than a dozen women and some pigeons."

"I promised Madam Mirselene."

"I understand. ... You know, you're welcome to return to the Cloner City any time you want, just to visit or to live here permanently."

"Thank you, Madam, but what would I do here?"

"Anything you wanted. Sally is very impressed by you - and she's not the only one. Besides, there's always new things to learn. Who knows what you could turn you brain to?"

Wildchild stayed silent.

"I hope you'll think about it," Gloria said; "and if you want me to speak to Mirselene on your behalf, you just have to ask. ... You know, I have a personal reason for wanting you to stay here."

Wildchild was innocent but not naive. She knew there was something very flattering behind Gloria's offer, and it wasn't just due to chess. Of course, Gloria wouldn't declare her feelings explicitly while Wildchild was a Junior under her authority. That would be improper and the Cloner Chief was stricter with herself than with anyone else; but Wildchild could see how Gloria felt.

All she could do was "Thank you, Madam;" but it got her thinking.

She wouldn't change her attitude toward Gloria. If anything, it made her admire the Cloner Chief even more; but it made her think about Hazel; about how Gloria clearly had no idea that she and Hazel were bedmates. That was something she had to change right now.

She smiled broadly, curtsied, picked up her tray and ran out of the room, seeking Hazel.

Wildchild found her girlfriend in the Junior dormitory, lying on her bed, half-relaxing, half-moping. She looked up when Wildchild came in. She smiled as Wildchild put down her tray and got onto the bed with her. Hazel sat up in expectation, then in anticipation, then in joy as Wildchild crawled over to her, cat-like, with a hungry look in her eyes.

Wildchild knelt over Hazel's outstretched legs, put her hands on her girlfriend's shoulders and pulled her forward.

Their lips met, as they'd often done before, but now there was an extra edge of passion to Wildchild's kiss. Hazel tried to control her reaction, to savour her joy, not to put Wildchild off by responding too strongly; but there was no chance of that. Wildchild now knew exactly what she wanted and wouldn't be put off by anything.

The pretty black-haired girl turned her head and kissed her beautiful blond girlfriend with an urgency and passion she hadn't used before. Eyes shut, she held Hazel tightly, their mouths pressed together, her small breasts pushed warmly against Hazel's bigger breasts, nipples hardening.

Hazel put her hands into the tight curls of Wildchild's black hair, massaging her neck, caressing her cheek. Wildchild hummed in her throat.

They kissed like this for many minutes, getting hotter, turning each other on until there was no more restraint between them.

Hazel moved a hand down to Wildchild's athletic thighs, caressing her through the thin cotton dress, gently following the contours up to her bottom. Here she discovered that Wildchild was sensitive, squirming, wriggling and twisting prettily in response to a gently fondling hand on her buttocks.

Wildchild shut her eyes and gave out an involuntary moan. She sucked in her breath and gripped her girlfriend tighter, but when she breathed out she moaned again, succumbing to a erotic tease she couldn't resist.

Wildchild was new to sex but it didn't feel to her as if sex was new: it felt like the whole world was new. Every touch made her tingle. She felt the pleasure deep inside, as a pressure in her chest, as heart-bursting thumps. She hadn't felt such happiness since she was eight-years-old and first fell in love with Tamar.

Now she was falling in love with Hazel, who was so turned on by Wildchild's sexual response that she had to take control and do more. She pushed up Wildchild's dress and caressed her naked skin, slowly exposing her thin waist, her ticklish ribs and her neat little tits with their firm pink nipples, now excited into delicious sensitivity by the rub from the cotton dress as it was gently pulled up over them and then all the way off.




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 17



Hazel guided her girlfriend onto her back, kissed her again sweetly and then pulled back to look at her with new eyes. They'd seen each other naked many times a day but not like this, not so vulnerable nor so enticing. Hazel played the back of a teasing finger down Wildchild's body, from her small chin to the sexy line along her stomach to her belly.

Wildchild was a beautiful girl in an athletic way, with small tits and a flat waist showing muscle definition. Her smooth black pubic hair was a triangle and her strong round legs ended in sweet little buttocks, firm with a gap between her thighs.

Hazel lay on her and they intertwined their fingers as they kissed. Wildchild squirmed again under her lover, warm and tingling. Hazel kissed down her neck to her shoulders and across her collar bones. When she raised her head, Wildchild took her turn, kissing Hazel's neck in the same way, her hands tentatively exploring, touching Hazel's breasts through her shirt.

Taking over again, Hazel kissed further down Wildchild's body, gently on her nipples, with little pecks to see Wildchild's reaction. She liked it. God! She liked it. Her whole body said so. Encouraged, Hazel kissed around the nipples and across her ribs, returning to her tits to lick at the hard swollen nipples.

Again, Wildchild showed she wanted more. Hazel took a whole tit into her mouth and gave it some suction.

Wildchild melted under the pleasure and forgot about taking turns. She lay back with her eyes shut and floated on a sea of joy.

The harder Hazel sucked the tit, the more Wildchild responded, feeling the pleasure in the small of her back. She gave out long gasps, arching her back, holding Hazel tightly.

Now Hazel kissed down her girlfriend's tight body to her belly, then to her thighs. This was delicious. It gave her the tingling sensation again, multiplied deeply; but when Hazel put her mouth to Wildchild's pussy, the innocent girl didn't know what to think. Kissing her there was so odd, it took a few minutes for her to understand her own reaction. Then it was pure greedy pleasure and an insistent demand for more.

Wildchild felt sparks of joy surf over her skin, collect in the small of her back and ride along the edge of her thighs and arms to her toes and fingers. Her muscles tensed as Hazel sucked on her neat little clitoris and pushed a finger into her pussy. Again Wildchild was lost in new and incomprehensible feelings. The tongue on her clitoris was giving her more pleasure than she knew how to bear. And now there was a delicious stretch in a place where no finger had ever stretched her before.

She cried out and shook her head from side to side, welcoming the new source of joy. She saw stars behind her tightly-closed eyelids. Hazel fingered her gently but Wildchild responded with her whole body. Muscles straining, she arched her back, spread her legs wide and gripped the bedsheet, moaning loudly.

It was such amazing joy that she almost cried; then Wildchild held her breath, stiffened and went silent as the first orgasm of her young life crept up on her. The pleasure was unexpected and so intense it was almost painful.

She opened her eyes and pushed herself up on her elbows. Hazel lifted her mouth from Wildchild's clitoris, her finger still in her pussy. She used her thumb on the clitoris instead and put her other hand on Wildchild's shoulder, holding her bedmate steady. The girls stared into each other's eyes as Hazel worked finger and thumb together, bringing Wildchild over the edge, giving her a convulsive climax.

Wildchild closed her eyes and tossed her head back. She bucked sharply and her legs shook as pleasure flooded over her, a warm and tingling ecstasy, like the relief after a painful sneeze. She convulsed another few times as Hazel kept working her. Peaks were reached, overcome and another peak loomed until she had nothing left to give. She breathed again and cried out in mixed love and passion. Then it was over.

The girls held each other tightly, kneeling face-to-face, hugging closely as the excitement cooled. Wildchild breathed deeply with her eyes shut, unable to let her girlfriend go, unable to let the feeling of ecstasy drain away. But the feeling did pass, leaving a sweet joy that suffused her body, sinking through her skin to the marrow of her bones, warming her through and through.

It was a few minutes before she could speak.

"My God, Hazel! That was amazing!" she exclaimed. "I didn't know there was so much pleasure in the world."

"There's more to come, Darling," Hazel said, explaining that there were vaginal orgasms as well as clitoral orgasms. Wildchild could hardly believe her and knelt looking at her lover, her lucent green eyes wide in wonder.

"I'm sorry I took so long," she said. "I had no idea it would be like that. How come any bedmates ever leave their rooms and go to work? Why don't they stay in bed the rest of their lives, just making love?"

Hazel laughed.

"Why did you take so long?" she asked. "Why now?"

"Madam Gloria pushed me into it. Inadvertently, of course."

"I don't understand," Hazel said but Wildchild didn't explain any further (which was usual for her). Instead she said:

"My turn now. Show me what to do."

6In the Southern Mountains

Ezra spent two full weeks prospecting for minerals in the Southern Mountains. Carlin and Tamar came with and Lorna was their guide. As they headed out with four horses and two tents, he explained what he was looking for.

He didn't think it would be difficult to find the elements they wanted, though some were rare and the mountains were old with lots of weathering. Walls of clay obscured the rock surfaces, forcing them to delve in streams for unusual stones, which Ezra examined as they were brought to him.

"Obsidian, a sort of glass," he said, throwing a rock away. "Quartz, more quartz, yet more quartz. ... Ooh, that's interesting," he remarked of a large yellow stone brought over by Carlin.

He chipped bits off it with his hammer and applied his reagents in tiny drops to fresh surfaces, testing for chemical composition. If a piece was promising, he would crush and melt it to isolate different elements, burning them in an intense white flame from his laser-knife.

"Brick red," he said, burning one candidate. "That's calcium. We need it but it's quite common and comes from lots of sources, including milk, eggshell and bones."

"What's brick?" Tamar asked.

"A building material on Earth. As you can see, it's an orangey kind of red."

The girls soon got a feel for what he wanted as they worked their way up the mountains to the central volcanic ridge and over to the more sheltered southern slopes, where they picked up stones revealed on the surface or washed down in the streams.

"What about this one," Carlin asked, giving Ezra a dark purple rock with many jagged-edged faces. It was very small and there was not much left after Ezra tested it.

"Very promising, Carlin," he said. "Is there any more?"

"That was the only piece I found," she said.

"I know where there's more," Tamar said. "At least, I know some rocks that are the same colour."

Tamar described a long thin cave where she remembered seeing a seam of purple rock running up the wall and across the ceiling.

She was a good guide. They found the cave and Ezra knocked thick chips from the seam and other likely prospects. The cave was an exceptionally good source of minerals. The purple rock itself - different from the original piece found by Carlin - contained four of the elements they needed. Ezra was certain he wouldn't have found it without Tamar, which didn't justify her being a damned nuisance, of course, but he kissed her gratefully, then he kissed Carlin and Lorna as well because they were also essential to their success.

He happily taught the girls how to use his reagents. They set up a production line, chipping bits off the rocks, crushing them, melting them, dissolving out the chemicals and then testing the bare elements with the flame from his penknife.

Besides the usual silicon, oxygen, aluminium and sulphur, there was manganese, which they needed, barium and chromium ("we don't need those," he said); arsenic and zinc. Finally, as he put a sliver of grey metal to the flame, he said:

"Blood red! That's strontium. That's one we need. Excellent! We're very lucky."

They collected large quantities of each of the chemicals (the more reactive ones still in mineral form) and packed them into their panniers. It was time to leave and rejoin the tribe at the Southern Camp.

In the third week, the Herders traded with the Cloners and Farmers, a week before the meeting of the three tribes. Yumi and Ezra went to the Cloner City with the trading party led by Galatea. He took his mineral finds on a sled.

While the Herders made their exchanges, Ezra presented the chemicals to Madam Cloner and Madam Scientist. They were exact matches for the ingredients of the Cloner Kits as described in the Medical Science Book; but how accurate the Medical Science Book was couldn't be learned until the existing nanotech was exposed to the new material.

None the less, the Cloners were pleased with the finds.

They were equally pleased to meet Yumi, who was an instant hit, especially with Madam Scientist and her team. They made her extremely welcome, unable to believe their luck in meeting an actual engineer from Earth.

After the exchanges, they all went to the Council Chamber for refreshments served by the Juniors. Wildchild was among those who brought them tea. She greeted her mother with her usual pretty curtsey but she didn't curtsey to Ezra, though her eyes lit up when she saw him. He nodded to her with a broad smile and she walked boldly up to him, offering him her forehead for a kiss.

This was their special greeting: his sign of affection toward a girl he had loved ever since she rescued him from the sea. It was the first time he'd seen her since salvaging his ship.

After the tea was served, the Juniors left the Chamber and the women sat down for a chat; but Ezra wasn't interested in gossip. He drank his cup and got up to stretch his legs. He made his way upstairs to the Junior Dormitory, knocked on the door and caused a commotion among the girls.

Wildchild introduced Jenna and Preeda, then she took Hazel by the hand and presented her to Ezra.

"This is Hazel, my bedmate," she said proudly.

Hazel was such a beautiful girl, Ezra's first thought was: "What a shame the Cloners are off-limits!" His second thought was: "My God! Can't I be satisfied with the thirty bedmates I already have?"

Hazel didn't know why he seemed amused but she smiled happily at him and gave Wildchild's hand an involuntary squeeze when he smiled back.

If Ezra thought a visit to the Juniors might be relaxing, he soon learned differently. The girls had seen him before but were still in awe. He put them at their ease and they quickly overcame their shyness, emboldened to do what they always wanted to do, which was bombard him with questions. He patiently answered or deflected them, inured to the process by now, but it was tiring and, after twenty minutes, he'd had enough and stood up.

"I hope you don't mind, Ladies," he said, "but I came to talk to Wildchild. Can we go outside for a walk?" he asked her.

Outside, out of hearing, he said:

"I don't have anything important to say, I just wanted to get away. How are you getting on? Is there's anything you need me to do for you?"

"I'm getting on very well, thanks, Ezra and I don't need anything at all. Everything is just perfect."

"You look lovely in that dress," he added, remembering his chivalrous manners.

She smiled her thanks. She was radiantly happy, in fact, and not ashamed of her girly clothes.

He noted the change in her and was in two minds: pleased that she was comfortable with her girlish side; but also regretting the loss of the silent angry tomboy he loved. The tomboy wouldn't have accepted such a compliment before; nor even seen it as a compliment.

He laughed at himself again and told Wildchild he thought her bedmate was beautiful, which pleased her. Then they talked about their friends in the forest. She was alarmed at the news about Annela but laughed when he described what Tamar had been up to.

It was pleasant walking through the orchard beside the Council Chamber in the bright sunshine but it was soon time to leave.

Now Yumi announced her decision to stay with the Cloners. It was expected. The Cloners had enticed her with a comfortable bed in a room of her own, their long experience with pregnancies and a pile of old technology to mend.

Ezra understood.

"It's a good decision," he said, "but now I have to explain it to Mirselene."

"Please thank her for the hospitality of the Woodlanders - of all the three tribes - but I think my place is here, with the broken machinery (though I've no reason to think I'll have more success than you in getting it working again)."

"If anyone can, Yumi, it's you. ... I'll see you as often as possible."

The Herder party returned to their Northern Camp and, a week later, there was a monthly meeting of the three tribes.

In the last week of their stay with the Herders, Carlin and Tamar went for long rides on the plain and drank milk straight from the dairy cows' udders.

Carlin honed her riding skills, learning gymnastic skills from the trick-riders, and Tamar revisited old friendships, though she avoided the girls who used to bully her. In fact, most of the bullies were grown-up now and Solange's benign influence had been to dampen down the aggressive side of tribal life.

******

In the following month, Ezra went to stay with the Mariners, where he helped Devon, Althea, Salema, Leanne and Elinor deliver their daughters.

In the final week, Wildchild arrived in the Beach Settlement, having galloped her horse all the way there. She brought a message from Madam Cloner: the cloning kits had been successfully replenished. She therefore invited Kalyndra to the City to try the cloning treatment again.

Kalyndra asked Ezra to accompany her. She wanted him to donate a cell to be implanted in her by the Cloners, instead of using one of her own cells. As the father of ten girls so far, he was easily persuaded to try to father a son.

After the next monthly meeting, therefore, the Herders gave Kalyndra and Ezra a lift to the Cloner City.

Madam Cloner herself performed the treatment, using cells scraped from the skin of Ezra's upper arm. Ezra waited with Kalyndra the week or so required to tell if the treatment was successful. It wasn't. Kalyndra had her period. They agreed to try again next month.

It was a failure again in the second month as well, so Kalyndra told Ezra they should try her own cells, if only to eliminate the possibility that Ezra couldn't father boys. His toll so far of five Woodlander daughters (two more children on the way), five Mariner daughters (also two more expected) and eight Herder daughters suggested this might be the case.

It became a pattern for Kalyndra for the next few months to visit the Cloner City and come back disappointed; until she decided that being aunt to Devon's daughter and Thalassa's future daughter would have to be satisfaction enough, though she couldn't help feeling sad.

She tried not to show her sadness to Ezra during his next visit but it was impossible for her to hide her feelings completely. It was cruel that her hopes were raised after she'd long been reconciled to barrenness; and then dashed again, especially when Devon was so absorbed with her baby daughter and Thalassa was radiantly pregnant herself.

Ezra understood and took her mind off her sorrows by dominating her completely all week, ordering her always to kneel in his presence. Serving him was a joy and satisfaction to her. Devon and Thalassa left them alone at night and each night he tied her arms behind her back and made her suck his cock until he came down her throat. Then he hogtied, gagged, blindfolded and fucked her until he was exhausted.

He left her tied up all night and woke every few hours to fuck her again, resting his head afterward on her magnificent tits to sleep.

At the end of their week, he was exhausted and she was sore all over; but she loved him more deeply than ever and she never felt quite so sad again.

******

Yumi was doing well at the Cloner City. She had good luck almost immediately with the broken technology by borrowing Wildchild's laser penknife and using it on its most precise setting as a soldering iron to work on circuit-boards. She mended the Cloners' faulty penknife, so now there were three of the simple but useful tools on Samothea.

Unfortunately, that was her best success. She got some machinery to show lights or make sounds but nothing, beside the penknife, worked as it was intended to. Instead, Yumi turned her skills to purely mechanical devices and built a pump for the Juniors to fill the baths on the second floor of the Council Hall.

She also made some better oil-lamps and improved the cart the Farmers used to transport their produce. She worked on her projects in between giving lessons on engineering and physics to the students.

All the while, her belly grew. The Cloner women were helpful and caring, reassuringly well prepared for pregnancy.

Yumi was pleased to see Ezra the two times he visited with Kalyndra and, especially, in her sixth month of pregnancy, when she went through a very horny stage, he came with the Herders and stayed overnight.

She pounced on him when he came out of the Council Chamber and dragged him up to her room. There she seduced him, like she had about eighteen months earlier. They made frantic, exciting love after only a moment's hesitation, when Ezra said:

"Yumi, the Cloner tribe are off-limits to me."

"I'm not a Cloner," she said, stripping off his clothes, "and, anyway, I'm pregnant."

As he could feel her beautiful round belly, he couldn't dispute it; so he sucked on her dark sensitive tits and made her cum with his finger, before he laid her back, raised her legs against his chest and pumped her until they both came with gasping moans and groans.

Three months later, Yumi had her child. It was a son, the first boy born on Samothea in more than a century. She named him Hayate, after her father, and completely understood why the celebrations were so long and so loud. There was a chance that Hayate (in eighteen years time) could make human life on Samothea sustainable without cloning. There was much to celebrate in such a thought.

7Before the Cloner Fair

When it was time to prepare for the Cloner Fair again, Ezra was the father of twenty-two daughters and no sons. No one could say if the cause was in Ezra himself or in the cosmic rays from the black hole but it meant there was something important to decide at the meeting of all the tribal chiefs.

This was the question whether the ban on Ezra taking bedmates from the Cloner, Farmer and Miner tribes should be lifted, or whether they should continue to rely only on cloning, just in case.

In fact, not all the tribal chiefs would be discussing the matter. Solange was delivered of a beautiful baby girl and stayed in the Southern Camp while Galatea led the tribe to the Fair.

Ezra spent the month before the Fair with the Woodlanders. Life in the Forest went to a slower rhythm now that Annela, Dipti, Sharne, Dagma and Urulla were all nursing mothers (and Adarna was pregnant). There was more foraging and farming and less hunting; and plenty of repairs for Ezra to do whenever he visited.

He made a roofed wooden walkway to the crapper so it could be used at night during the rain. All the huts now had wooden roofs and he was joining their verandas together so the whole ring of huts would be protected from both sun and rain.




Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 17



On his first day back in camp, however, he collected Freya and Krupa and dandled them on his knees, giving Annela and Dipti the chance for some much-needed rest. Sharne, Dagma and Urulla sat quietly beside him on the benches by the campfire, suckling, burping or cuddling their daughters.

Back from foraging, Tamar skipped up to tell him her hopes for the coming celebrations.

Despite being sixteen and on the verge of womanhood, no one was more excited than Tamar, not even Pepi, the most excitable girl on Samothea.

Having never been to the Cloner Fair, Tamar was almost beside herself with anticipation, hopping from one foot to the other as she told Ezra what she'd already told everyone else, many times over.

"I'm going to try every dish of every cook. I'm going to dance every night in every tribe's style of dancing. I'm going to climb the hill behind the Cloner City, to see the tents laid out with the flags of all the tribes flying in the wind. That's a beautiful sight, isn't it, Ezra?"

"Yes, I believe so."

"I'm too old to dance around the maypole, I know, but I'll supervise the younger children."

"I understand," he said, "and, if it so happens that enthusiasm for the dance makes some of the little ones fall over, then you couldn't be blamed if you joined in to help them, could you?"

She smiled knowingly at him.

"And I'll meet the Miners - every single one of them! They're the tribe I was born into. I haven't seen them since I was too small to remember. And, and, and ..."

Even Tamar had to run of breath sometimes, but Ezra waited patiently for the eager girl to unload all her hopes onto him.

"... and I'm going to hug Wildchild so hard she'll burst!" Tamar finished triumphantly.

He laughed and had a good look at his young friend.

Tamar had grown another couple of inches that year. She'd overtaken Carlin and caught up with Annela. All the growth seemed to have occurred in her legs, however, which were long and bony. Curves were still to come.

The girl had swapped her long dress for a short grey fabric skirt and a faded chequered blouse. She used her cloak only for the cold mornings and nights. Her bow was usually slung over her shoulder and Wildchild's knife was tied in its holster around her waist.

Despite having the knife, Tamar had let her hair grow all year, in anticipation of 'Haircut Day' at the Cloner Fair. Her thick golden tresses fell to the middle of her back, framing a face of perfect angular beauty, graced by huge brown eyes that focussed with unstinting enquiry onto a world of mystery and delight.

If there were brief moments when Ezra missed Earth and his family, so that neither his children nor his bedmates were sufficient comfort, then he just had to think of the innocently curious Tamar asking her questions and his joy would return. Even more than his loving bedmates, Tamar was one who could always reconcile him to his exile on Samothea.

He beckoned her over and kissed her cheek, saying: "I love you, Tamar. Don't ever change."

8The Samothea Project

Besides the financial backers at the university, the Samothea Project consisted of Danielle as team-leader; the engineers of HyperStar Japan and Oakshott Industries, Danielle's brilliant students, Rosa Silverstein and Li Qu Yuan, Jonathan Wright (working remotely from CalTech on Earth) and Herman, taking whatever time he could spare from his own advanced mathematical studies to help where he could.

While they waited for the prototype engine to be tested, Danielle wrote combined papers with Rosa and Li on long-distance low-cost hyperspace travel using communication through the plume. She, Rosa, Li and Jonathan Wright wrote another combined paper on configuring the hyperspace beacon. At the request of HyperStar Japan, they kept publication back until they were assured of the engine's success.

The Japanese company was paranoid about copyright theft and preferred to work in secret rather than apply for a patent and let the world know about the radical new design. Danielle had to agree, especially when it turned out that HyperStar were working twice as quickly on the engine than any other company would, trying to make a successful prototype before the secret got out.

Conceived by men, designed by expert systems and built by robots, each iteration of the engine took only a week to assemble and was immediately sent out for a month of testing. The first two prototypes exploded on launch. Prototype three launched but didn't come back. Prototype four was a success and, true to plan, jumped ten light-years to a good-size star, unfurled its solar panels and constructed the return beacon, which powered up properly. There was joy all around a few hours later when the new engine bounced out of hyperspace a few hundred miles from its starting-point.

Prototype five was heavier, faster and could go further. It also came back. Prototype six disappeared somewhere in the plume but before a replacement could be built, prototype seven was ready. It was a full-size model and almost full weight. It also came back successfully. Two months of tests followed, with incrementally further jumps through hyperspace and successful returns.

In the latest test, the prototype leapt four-hundred light-years in one go and returned undamaged. These were by far the furthest single hyperspace jumps in history and used only a fraction of the fuel that the two or three conventional jumps over the same distance would have required; not to mention the time saved by not having to take star-readings and re-calculate for each jump.

It had taken just over a year to prove the Samothea Project was viable and success made everyone impatient to try the real thing. Everyone except Danielle, however, who more than anyone felt the incentive to reach Samothea quickly; yet she wanted more data and more tests. It was her reputation that was at stake, of course; but, more importantly, the chance for a full-scale rescue from Samothea, if her brother was still alive, would be diminished if too many attempts failed.

None the less, when the financial backers at the university complained about the expense of making progress in such small steps, and suggested leaping all the way to Samothea in one go (insisting that, after all, this is what the Samothea Project was all about, what it was named for), Danielle allowed herself to be persuaded.

So far, all the tests had been conducted by HyperStar Japan using their own beacon, getting the trajectory data from Danielle and her team. A jump to Samothea needed a larger beacon, however, which meant hiring time on a commercial rig. Oakshott Industries would arrange this but it would mean letting the secret out in public.

It was time to invite the press to the launch and submit the papers for publication. Danielle agreed to this as well.

Two weeks before the scheduled launch, however, after the trajectory and fuel-load were already calculated, double-checked and triple-checked, Danielle realised something was missing. She gathered her team and said:

"The comms probe has no transmitter."

"It's a commercial probe," Li explained. "We lightened it by taking out all redundant equipment, including the burster."

"Which made sense for all previous missions," Danielle agreed. "Even a four-kilogram transmitter and dish drastically affects the calculations and adds grievously to the fuel burden; but on our test runs, we needed only to measure our location and calculate the return pathway. Now we're going all the way to Samothea, we need to be able to transmit, just in case someone is listening."

Everyone agreed.

"So how long to re-calculate the pathway and fuel load?" Danielle asked.

Rosa had been tapping at her computer tablet.

"Can we delay the launch?"

"I'd rather not," Danielle said. "The press has been invited."

"How much will the transmitter weigh and how much energy will it use?" Rosa then asked.

Li had approximate answers and Rosa tapped some more. Li turned to his tablet as well.

"About a week," Rosa said, "if we get exact details of the weight-difference today and set the computers working immediately."

"I agree," Li said. "I can get you the exact weight, Rosa."

"All right. Go ahead you two, but keep your working completely separate. I want to compare your answers. Meanwhile, I'll do my own calculations. I'll tell HyperStar to fix the burster back in; and I'll compose a message to transmit. Off you all go."

Two weeks later, the whole team, including engineers and scientists, was present at the launch. Jonathan Wright took a special trip out from Earth. Roger took a break from publicising his video-film and came to give Danielle his support.

They were in the control-room on a survey ship near the array of large commercial beacons belonging to Capella SpacePort. Screens stood all around them, showing computer read-outs and video links to the beacon and the traveller with its hyperdrive motor and payload.

Rosa and Li each sat at a console in front of an array of screens. Five members of HyperStar Japan's engineering team crowded around another console. Stephen Oakshott was following the action from Earth on a remote video link. Danielle carried a small tablet and went from screen to screen, checking on her students, the hyperdrive engineers and the beacon team. Jonathan stood to the rear, taking an over-view. Roger came and stood by him and Jonathan gave him a commentary on what was going on.

At first, Danielle had been a little worried about how her husband and Jonathan would get on, with the wicked side of her nature secretly hoping for a little jealousy from Roger, just to tease him. It was a pleasant disappointment for her, therefore, when Roger and Jonathan instantly clicked and seemed to act as if they were old friends.

All the reports were good. The beacon would be turned on first. It was a small commercial beacon, only four-hundred metres across, that Jonathan and Li had configured. The beacon was empty at the moment. One could see the stars through its metal circle. Soon, however, it would contain the plume that would envelope the traveller in hyperspace.

Li was checking the measurements one last time while Rosa lined the traveller up with the beacon, giving it a fifty-mile run up to build speed. The engineering team did a last check on the hyperdrive motor before it was ready to be launched.

Danielle said: "Are we all ready?"

There was a chorus of "Yes, Doctor Goldrick."

"We know what we're looking for? Li?"

"Yes, Doctor Goldrick: 18.03581 seconds to the reflection boundary."

"Then you can count us down when we're in the plume."

-- "What's the reflection boundary?" Roger asked Jonathan in a whisper.

"It's a measure of the relativistic time-lag for a signal through the hyperspace plume. It's equivalent to (but not the same as) how far we would have travelled in normal space."

"I'm glad I asked," Roger said.

Jonathan laughed.

"Just watch the timer on that big screen in the middle. If it ends up more than 18.03581, then we've over-shot or been deflected by an anomaly. If it's less than 18.03581 seconds, then we've undershot."

"How bad is undershooting or overshooting?"

"It depends: we have lots of leeway built in, just in case there are strong anomalies." --

"Danielle, the motor is working fine," Rosa reported. "The traveller is ready to launch."

"Li, when you're ready."

Li gave the order to turn on the plume. The beacon flashed pink for a second and was no longer empty. A purple field grew in the circle, bulging out into a lens-shape. Lines of force flickered across its surface. Golden light streaked around the circumference of the beacon.

"Plume secure, Doctor Goldrick," said Li.

"Well done," said Danielle. "Rosa, you can launch when you're ready."

"Yes, Danielle."

Rosa checked her console one last time then punched the button to kick the hyperdrive engine into life. Blue streaks criss-crossed the cone-shaped wave-guide and hid the craft in a white haze. The signal from the video feed flickered and there was a flash as the traveller accelerated almost instantly, clearing the distance to the beacon in seconds and disappeared into the plume, leaving a hollow whirlpool in its wake, which fluctuated at its edges.

Everyone held their breath, except Li, who counted out the seconds, reading from the large central monitor:

"Eighteen seconds to the boundary ... fifteen, fourteen, thirteen, ..."

The seconds ticked away, slowly.

"Automatic course adjustments, Rosa?" Danielle asked.

"Negligible, the signal hasn't wavered."

Small pink flashes spiralled across the whirlpool.

"... seven, six, five ..." Li intoned.

"Almost there, almost there," Danielle whispered to herself.

"... three, two, one! That's the reflection boundary!" Li exclaimed as the clock on the big screen stopped at 18.0354 seconds and a pink flash crossed the face of the beacon. Then the purple lens shrank to nothing, leaving the stars visible again through the metal ring.

"That's plume-collapse!" Li reported. "The traveller is out of hyperspace. We're there!"

There was a big cheer and everyone clapped, hugged or shook hands. Danielle herself was caught up in the excitement. She sought out Roger and kissed him unprofessionally.

However, Rosa was staring at her display. She tried to say something to Danielle but there was too much noise. Jonathan had also gone quiet, looking at the timer. He grabbed a tablet and began to punch numbers into it.

Released by Danielle, Roger noticed Jonathan looking concerned.

"What's wrong," he asked.

"We overshot by 3 microseconds," Jonathan said.

"Is that bad?" Roger asked.

"It shouldn't be. I'm trying to work out what distance in normal space it relates to."

Other people were also going quiet. Li had returned to his console and was working hard with the numbers. The celebrations waned and, at last, Rosa's voice became audible.

"It faded," she said. "The signal faded."

"I concur!" Jonathan said loudly and that shut up the last of the talkers.

Danielle looked at the read-outs and Rosa's results.

"Damn! You're right!" she said. "Li, do you get that as well?"

"Yes, Doctor Goldrick."

"Rosa, how gradually did the signal fade? Did we veer?"

-- "What's going on?" Roger asked Jonathan, who had stopped tapping his tablet and stood waiting for the computer to give him a result. Blocks of numbers flashed over the screen, descending in a stream of busy calculation.

"If the traveller bounces out of hyperspace on a straight trajectory," Jonathan explained, "then the plume will collapse abruptly, leaving a straight-line signal. Our plume faded out, which suggests that the traveller was changing direction or decelerating when the plume collapsed."

"And what significance does changing direction or decelerating have?"

"We hit something," he said simply. "The only question is, did we hit something hard, like a moon, soft like a gas-giant, or was the traveller deflected by a strong gravitational field?"

"How can you tell?"

"A hard impact means a rapid deceleration. A soft impact means a slow deceleration and a gravity field means an acceleration, not a deceleration. That would most likely be survivable."

"I see. Which is it?"

"I'm not sure yet." --

Danielle was working with Rosa, measuring the rate at which the signal faded and the angle of the last contact between traveller and plume.

"All right," Danielle announced to a silent audience. "Preliminary results - very approximate - but we think the traveller veered and decelerated as a result of the overshoot. I'm afraid we missed the target. Li, do you concur?"

"Yes, Doctor Goldrick."

"Jonathan?"

His computer finally reached a conclusion. He projected the calculations onto the main screen.

"I get a one-light-year overshoot and a hard impact," Jonathan said.

"Smart-arse," Danielle said looking over his work.

"I'm afraid Doctor Wright is correct," she announced sadly. "Ladies and gentlemen: the traveller overshot, hit something solid and is lost."

There were mixed feelings all around. The celebrations had been premature but not entirely unearned: after all, the engine worked.

"Hello, Goldrick? Are you saying the probe is destroyed?"

This was Stephen Oakshott, via his video link. Their conversation was delayed half a minute.

"Yes, Stephen. It probably hit an asteroid or a moon. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You got to Samothea, didn't you? You jumped two-thousand light-years for less fuel and in less time than it would take me on the regular shuttle from Earth to Capella. That's an amazing achievement. I say we go ahead and try again as soon as possible. You've all done brilliantly! Cheap, fast, long-distance hyperspace travel now exists and it's all down to you."

"I'm glad you're so sanguine, Stephen, though it's thousands of your money down the drain."

"The best investments are always risky, Goldrick. The hyperdrive motor and the new guidance system both work. We got to Samothea, or thereabouts. We can use the data to send more probes much more accurately. It's not a perfect triumph but it's enough. I'm authorising the press release. Let the galaxy know that the Samothea Project is a success!"

******

In fact, the traveller hit the planet Samothea itself, not an asteroid or a moon. The same anomalies in hyperspace that deflected Ezra's ship directly into the path of Samothea also deflected the traveller from its course. It was the extra weight of the transmitter that made the calculations inaccurate and steered it toward the nearest gravitating object.

The traveller emerged from hyperspace twenty miles above the planet. At 35,000 mph, it had no time to set up the return beacon or unfurl the solar panels before it hit the atmosphere and burst into flames.

Everyone on Samothea heard the crack, like a thousand lightning strikes all hitting at once. The Woodlanders travelling to the Cloner Fair saw a flash of light over the sea and heard the crackling roar of what seemed to be a meteorite burning up in its descent. Something like an orange furnace streaked across the sky, spitting flames and leaving a dense grey tail of smoke, which feathered out as strong winds in the stratosphere fluffed up the particles.

The trail of smoke and the angry roaring stopped over the mountains east of the forest. The missile fell to earth and gouged out a huge hole, painting a mushroom of smoke, dust and ice on the eastern horizon.

"What was that?" Tamar asked Ezra as they walked across the plain.

"I don't know," he said, somewhat thoughtful. "Probably a meteorite."

It was all anyone talked about the rest of the way to the Cloner City and it was an interesting topic of conversation at that year's Fair, being seen by everyone who wasn't indoors.

******

Danielle took comfort in knowing the traveller reached Samothea, even if it was destroyed, though she regretted the lost opportunity of perhaps finding out what had happened to her brother by picking up a comms signal or even a distress call from his ship.

She needn't have fretted. The project was far from a disaster. In the few moments between emerging from hyperspace and burning up in the Samothean atmosphere, the comms probe did what it was designed to do. It transmitted Danielle's message on a range of terrestrial channels and emergency bands.

One of Ezra's escape pods was sniffing the emergency bands and picked up the probe's transmission. Now a green light flashed on its control panel, alerting anyone who passed that there was a message from another world waiting to be read.