Chapter 10: Sperm Competition

The crowd, dancing and drinking and fucking, was half men and half women as we entered, with many of the men crawling around in eerie leather dog masks and mitts, and many of the women strutting with cat ears and cat tails, all dressed to varying degrees, most of them to the least. “I don’t see anywhere those tails could be strapped to the bodies of the naked ones,” I wondered aloud.

“They are butt plugs,” explained Diane. “Would either of you be interested in trying one on? Or should I say ‘trying one in’?”

“Um. Maybe later.”

“I think the tails are sexy,” proclaimed Asta, surprising me with the return of her confidence, “and I enjoy butt plugs. So… sure, sign me up.”

“I shall bring one for you on our next rendezvous.”

“How about cat ears?”

“Of course!” Diane was delighted by Asta’s turn of enthusiasm. “You do seem more feline than canine. How about paws? A mask?”

“Maybe some furry gloves, but they should be fingerless so I can still use my hands. I’ll have to see what the mask looks like before I commit.”

“Splendid!” squealed Diane, giddily clasping her hands together.

“I’ve never been anywhere like this,” I admitted. “A genuine sex club.”

“That it is,” confirmed Diane. “For pet play. It stands out among pet play spaces in its unleashed decadence. This establishment is one of my greatest passions.”

“My girlfriend knew about Asmodeus, but she agreed not to spoil the surprise,” I admitted, clumsily giving away far more than I should have. “I wonder if she’d be interested in pet play…”

“I am tickled to hear that your girlfriend does not mind playing along with my games, and that she is not bothered that you are trying new things with a strange woman.”

“(Ah…)” I was not a practiced spy or actress; as honest with myself as I was about my lackluster ability to deceive—which was very little, but enough that I should know better than to try—I still managed to overestimate my ability to keep my mouth shut when possible and compartmentalize information when otherwise necessary.

“You… have my permission to have a second handler, and to bring her to this place whenever you are not here with me.”

“I don’t need your permis—‍” She glared sharply at me, waiting for me to finish my expression of disappreciation. ((Stay on her good side now, reap the benefits later.)) “I mean, Thank you, Mistress.”

Her expression softened. “You are welcome, Prax. I am sure you understand that even if you gain a second handler, I will always be your first, and will therefore always come first.”

“Yes, Mistress.” ((Diane comes before Judy.)) The colorful light show charged the crowd. ((Judy, the love of my life, my soulmate, is my second priority, after Diane.)) The strobes flashed like lightning on a dry desert night. ((That means I’ve decided Diane is more important to me than Judy.)) The music thundered in the near distance. ((Judy has devoted herself to me, to her soulmate, and in return I have given myself to Diane for her pleasure, in return for a career as a pig.)) People imbibed alcohol and popped pills. ((How twisted am I?)) Some led their less obedient pets around on leashes. ((How sick am I that I would agree to such an arrangement?))

Frantically, I sought comfort in my rationale for my decision to sell myself. ((I’m doing it for Alex.)) People danced. ((This is a sacrifice. I’m making a sacrifice.)) People fucked on the periphery of the room… ((A necessary sacrifice.)) …and I wanted to join them. ((But is it really necessary?)) I followed Diane through the crowd, which gradually lost its male flavor, until it was all women. ((Am I doing this because I need to, or because I want to?)) Diane took her seat in a booth, away from all the excitement I wished to entangle myself within, and we joined her. ((Before I can answer that question, I must remind myself of the awkward truth: I enjoy being owned.))

My thoughts were interrupted by a woman—wearing a taxi-yellow tuxedo with black-and-white checkered lapel and side stripes—warmly asking, “Welcome back to Asmodeus, Madam Moneta, may I start you and your pets off with something to drink?”

“I am thinking… champagne… No. Something fruity, something fun. Three strawberry daiquiris, blended.”

“Make mine a virgin,” I said.

“There are no virgins here, Prax,” said my owner, cheekily. “Loosen up, have some fun.”

Despite my strict sobriety, I found myself unable to override her irritating play on words. I tried to. The impulse to insist that ((mine will be a virgin)) ricocheted around the inside of my skull, never making it to my mouth—until something else just as good, and technically obedient, found its way out as I spoke a little more forcefully than intended over the noise of the club, “I have an alcohol problem, Mistress. If I drink, I lose control and do stupid shit. Unless that daiquiri gives birth to the baby Jesus himself, this night will end badly for me.”

She was shocked. I tensed as I awaited her reaction. I expected her to be offended by my diplomatic defiance, if not thoroughly pissed—so I steeled myself for a harsh reprimand by closing my eyes and offering my cheek for her to slap while composing something along the lines of ((I’m sorry, Mistress, I lost my temper, it won’t happen again, I’ll drink whatever you tell me to drink—)) but she shattered that expectation. “I am so sorry, Prax. I will take that into consideration henceforth. I should not be dictating which psychoactive substances others use, anyway, even if they have sworn to obey. I apologize for coercing you. Forgive me?”

I relaxed. ((She bends. She’s reasonable. Her rule is not absolute.)) “Of course, Mistress.”

“Make hers a virgin,” she told the tuxedo woman, then asked me, “Is alcohol your only no-no?” ((She is not a tyrant.))

“Um… I can’t think of any others.”

“Have you ever taken MDMA?”

“No.”

“Would you be interested in giving it a try? It makes you want to hug, kiss, and/or fuck everything in sight.”

I was sorely tempted, but… “I already… um… do want to do those things. I’ll let pretty much any interested party have a piece of my body, anywhere, anytime, any position, any number of participants. I really don’t need to be any hornier than I already am.”

“Very well. Let me know if you change your mind. And I would like you to remember for later what you just said about letting any interested party have a piece of your body. How about you, Asta?”

“Aren’t we tested at work?”

“My pets are exempt.”

“Oh. I guess, uh, well… I’ve wanted to try Molly since college, but I couldn’t trust that any of the pills available on campus or at the clubs were pure.”

“Our tablets are custom pressed in-house, starting with pure MDMA crystals.”

“Then I’m in.”

“An 80 and a 120, and that is all,” Diane told the tuxedo woman, who nodded and left. “That should not take very long, the servers and bartenders are industrious. Now that we are here, pets… what do you think?”

Asta shrugged. “It’s loud, but I like it.”

“I like the vibe,” I said. “All these people walking around in collars and animal ears and paws is a little eerie, but… this is my life now. This is my community.”

“Yeah, I feel weird, but it’s not a bad weird, more like a new and strange country we have to explore weird. I’m looking forward to seeing more of it, now that I’m off my leash.”

Diane withdrew two strips of condoms from her purse and held them out to us. “Then go,” she said. “Set out into the unknown, meet new lovers, discover the pleasures Asmodeus has to offer you. Get fucked, let multiple people ‘have a piece of your body’, if it pleases you. You are off your leashes, you can run wild and misbehave.” Asta and I traded confused looks. “Get in trouble.” We hesitated. “I command you to go forth and entertain your every desire, no matter how twisted or lewd it may be.”

I didn’t question her. “Yes, Mistress.”

I laid my condoms on the top layer of junk in my purse for easy access, stood up, and curtsied. Asta followed my example, and we wandered off, dazed by the lights of freedom guiding us between the clumps of people making out or eating hors d’oeuvres or drinking or fucking or, as I suspected with at least two different individuals whose paths we crossed, tripping balls on The Good Shit. As much as I envied them, I felt a vicarious concern over their hangovers-to-come. But that concern soon faded, leaving me with only a craving… a craving that would herald the beginning of my end.

I recalled that day’s euphoric prologue to my current escapade, the force of my existence tearing forward through the mud and the undergrowth, fulfilling my own will at every turn as I convinced everyone to do things my way. I wasn’t feeling that right now, I was feeling… just a little higher than normal. Sure, I could have fucked anyone in that mentally metastable moment, but my senses would have been overloaded and I might not have enjoyed myself. ((Maybe a fun-time gimme-hugs-and-kisses pill isn’t such a bad idea.))

“Asta… Do you still want to take that Molly?”

“Hm. This place is weird enough without hallucinating, so I’m thinking no. Are you finding yourself interested in it?”

“Yes.”

“It’s yours, Detective.”

“Do you mind if we split up, or do you want to stick together while I go back to take it?”

“I’m a little freaked out at the moment—I think I might be dissociating—but I’m a big girl, I’ll be fine on my own. I’m going to explore until I get bored or horny, maybe watch some people have drugged sex or ask a cat girl if I can pull out her tail then put it back in. And then fuck her. In front of everyone. And I’ll make her scream my name so hard people will come and watch me turn her into my devoted bitch. Man, tonight’s gonna be weird. And… if I roll the dice with enough skill, maybe a lot of fun.”

“Sounds like a plan. Enjoy yourself, Doc.”

I made a beeline for our table, where Diane was making out with a pair of somebody else’s pets. On the table were a cocktail glass half-full of frozen crimson fluff, two shiny steel pet bowls filled to the brim with the stuff, and a rectangular mirror dish upon which sat a single fuchsia tablet. I scooted in next to her and pinched the pill between my thumb and forefinger to inspect it; pressed into one face of the pill was an ellipse with triangles emerging from its upper right and upper left edges, and three short lines attached to both the left and right—put simply, a line drawing of a cat’s head—and into the other side was pressed the number 80. ((If I were a Narcotics detective, I’d be having a blast.)) I sniffed one of the pet bowls and—

((Rum… Oh… I haven’t had rum in… ages.)) I sniffed it again. ((Asta)) won’t mind; she’s probably forgotten about it. I breathed in once more. ((Oh, God, send me an angel to shield me from temptation.)) My heart cried out in eagerness and fear, seeking comfort that I was making the right decision as well as help to prevent me from making the wrong one. I picked up the bowl and brought its rim to my lips—

“(Put it down,)” said a whisper into both of my ears.

I froze. Not frozen like the slush of the daiquiri lapping at my upper lip, but solid as ice.

“(You shouldn’t be drinking.)”

“But I need it…”

“(No. You don’t.)”

“I’ve been drinking since I was twelve.”

“(And you shouldn’t’ve touched alcohol until you were old enough to handle it.)”

“Shosh seemed to think I was ready.”

“(She was a fool and a terrible mother.)”

“I love her. She loves me. I trust her. She guides me.”

“(You should, and she does. But she has made many mistakes, among them introducing you to booze at a young age. Undo the harm she has done to you. Put it down.)”

“She didn’t make any mistakes. She’s the perfect mother.”

“(You’re an alcoholic because she wanted to be a ‘cool mom’. Put down the rum.)”

I stared at the daiquiri. Each breath brought a fresh wave of euphoric vapors into my nose. The voice was interfering with my fun.

“(Esther bat Shoshanah… you are stronger than you think. You must learn moderation. Put the rum back on the table. You can have a drink another night, when you have friends at your side, watching you, ready to stop you when you’ve had enough.)”

Hesitating several times, I put it down.

“(Good. Have… have fun. And use a condom.)”

“I’ll try.”

“(Take care.)”

I fondled the tablet as I considered swallowing it. ((It isn’t alcohol. I’m not addicted to ecstasy. I’ll be fine.))

“Are you sampling the drugs, my love?” asked Diane with a bubbly lilt.

“Oh. Maybe. I was thinking about rolling after all.”

“Is there something getting in the way?”

“Well… I’m not completely sure of what to expect, but…” ((It isn’t alcohol. I can control myself.)) “On second thought, I’m taking the dive.”

“Have fun, Party Girl.”

I popped the pill and washed it down with my non-alcoholic bowl. “There. I should be buzzing around in about 30 minutes.”

“This being your first time, you may not begin to notice the effects for as long as an hour.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you, Mistress.” She went back to kissing her beautiful strangers, both younger than me and wearing nothing but what looked to me like prosthetic dog snouts, floppy dog ears, droopy dog tails, and tight leather straps, with their breasts and asses squishing out between the leather.

I checked the time and slowly finished off my daiquiri, and while I knew the effects of ecstasy from illicit substances training in academy (and from reading virtually every one of Psilo Silo’s guides to tripping on a wide variety of substances), I nonetheless wondered how my subjective experience would present itself. After I reached the bottom of my bowl—giving into the temptation to lick it clean, because I might as well go the whole nine yards with the pet thing—I checked the time again: 7:45, about 10 minutes since I’d taken the pill. I still had 50 minutes to burn before the ecstasy kicked in. “I’ll make myself busy, Mistress,” I told her as I left; she lazily waved goodbye.

I resumed wandering past tables, peering at cocks and pussies as they strolled by or as they were stimulated by mouths, hands, dildos, vibrators, or other genitals (both matching and complementary), in the beds between the booths, whether in the ones big enough for four, or in the little ones peppered between them just big enough for two—or, for smaller folks, maybe three. ((Three of me sharing a bed…))

The music was overwhelming but nonetheless pleasant; I surmised it might be EDM (with the assumption that I had an inkling of what EDM sounded like), though it was very different from all the electronic stuff I’d heard before—I thought perhaps the DJ was on the bleeding edge of sonic trends.

I strolled a dozen laps around the club, and worked my courage up until I found the will to leave the calm periphery, where people sipped their cocktails and made mammalian love, towards the bustling center of the room, wherein Lust’s congregation humped and hollered to the horny hymnals. I had never danced with anyone before, I never went to homecoming or prom, but—

And then they rent the wordless soundfield with a voice lower than most women’s. “You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?”

“I think so. I’m… also thinking of your cute pink dress—and curls of gold.”

“My handler likes to dress me up in women’s clothes. He thinks I look much cuter in them than in men’s.”

“Even though I prefer women’s forms… I bet you’re just as cute as any girl without your clothes.”

He blushed. “Aw, shucks.”

“I do so love your outfit. You are very pretty wearing women’s outfits.”

“It’s kinda shameful but…”

“But you still find it fun.”

“But I get off on it.”

I closed the narrow gap between us, pressed against him, to feel… him, poking through our skirts into my pelvis, very much prepared for action. And he seemed unfazed. “So’re you always hard while you’re wearing women’s clothing?”

He nodded.

“Wow, God, that’s so…”

“Shameful? Doubtless. Painful? I’ve gotten used to it.”

“I was about to say, ‘So hot.’”

“I guess it is.”

“Do you ever feel the need to take a break from being hard?”

“I like to keep it as hard as possible for as long as possible. A good erection’s just as good as sex.”

“That means no sex ever, though, right? I must admit I don’t have much experience, but I do know that orgasms make dicks go soft for a little while.”

“For penis-having folks, the time they stay soft can vary from a minute to a day or longer.”

“And how long is it for you?”

He shrugged. “I stay rock-hard even after cumming.”

“That’s quite a claim.”

He grinned… “Would you like me to prove it to you?”

…and my thoughts echoed his thoughts. “Maybe. Tested Friday, minus signs across the board, same for my partner. You?”

“All negative as of two weeks ago.”

I ground my pelvis against his cock through his dress and petticoats. “My pussy’s gonna turn your cock into pudding, Pink Kitty.”

“I’ve never had the opportunity to penetrate someone, so I didn’t think to grab any rubbers for tonight…”

I rubbed against him even as he worried about protection. “I have some.”

“Alright, let’s find a bed.”

The big round beds were roughly king-sized; but the small ones more resembled pet beds scaled up to barely fit a pair of humans. So I picked one of the big ones, but my future fuck friend informed me, “Those aren’t for unsupervised pets, only owners and their guests. Pets who wish to ‘mate’ without a leash hafta use the pet beds.” Hearing this, I grumbled; we continued searching till we found one just as it was being vacated. The fact that the fabric smelled of strangers’ cum and sweat evaded me because, much like a boy of 18, I had only one thing on my mind, and you should know by now that it sure as hell was not avoiding other people’s body fluids. Hell, the filthiness of fucking in a pool of strangers’ jism had a kind of sexiness—for as long as I didn’t think about how gross it was. (Even then, the grossness might… have its appeal.)

I pushed him down onto our bed of infidelity—aggressively, I need not say—and crawled atop him, kissing him from chest to neck, then neck to ear, then ear to cheek, then cheek to mouth, whereon I dwelled a while. As we kissed I felt around his skirt to find that ever-ready piece of him and played with it through several layers of fabric, panties, petticoats, and skirt. I squeezed and stroked him, made him moan, and louder as I lifted up his skirt and did the same through just his soaking panties. “Ah—! You’ve made me even harder, now my penis hurts so bad.”

I snickered. “Are you saying you want my cunt right now?”

“God, yes.”

I pulled his tenting panties off his giant steel-stiff cock and gently pulled the waistband down onto his balls, then straddled him—his bright pink fur was soft and warm against my inner thighs—and located my hips above—

“And what about the glove?”

“What?”

“The condom?”

“Oh. Right. Protection. To… keep your semen out of me. Yes. I have… some.” ((But, God, I love it raw. And even if he gets me pregnant, Judy would have no way of knowing that her sperm have failed their mission if I don’t keep it.)) “We’re both clean, though, is it really necessary in our case?”

“The club requires condoms to be used for any kind of penetration—anal, oral, or vaginal.”

“Do they have condom cops going around inspecting beds, making all the guests pull out to make sure they have a barrier?”

“Well, no…”

“I wonder, then, why we should care.”

“Are you at least on birth control?”

I hesitated—imperceptibly, I hoped—before telling the truth: “Of course I am.”

“Then I guess skipping the condom shouldn’t be a problem.” He believed me, by some miracle.

“Let’s go, Pink!” Inch-by-inch my hips descended till his cock was poised before my threshold, then I reached beneath my skirt and guided him inside, inspiring both of us to breathe in; my skeleton, in being pierced by autumn winds, squeezed my lungs and forced a moan out of them. As soon as he was knocking on my cervix, I asked, “How’s it feel?”

“Um… This is my… first time… inside… a vagina.”

“And how’s it feel?”

“My God, it’s beautiful.”

“And I’ve been told that it looks cute.” I noticed that my dress was hiding that which we were doing from plain sight. “But you won’t get to see it here tonight, I’m liking keeping everything down there concealed. A passerby can see our faces and hear our sex sounds, but they can’t see that we are one.”

“I’d really like to see it, though.”

“Alright, let’s spoil the mystery for everyone.” I flattened out his skirt and lifted mine so he could see where we were joined.

He stared. “It looks so sexy, being stretched out by my cock!”

I arched my spine forwards as far as it would bend to get a better view—but I couldn’t make out very well the part that he was stretching out, and my cunt had greedily engulfed all but an inch of his cock—half an inch more than Judy’s. “Pity, I can’t see it from here.” I feared we might bore of talking, so I rode him, causing him to resume moaning; rising, falling, going, coming, squeezing bliss into his cock until his climax sounded near…

I stopped.

“Please, why, oh tell me why—you stopped…” he whined.

“Cuz I’m not close to cumming yet.”

He groaned frustratedly. “Okay, then will you please cum soon so I can cum? My dick feels like it’s ready to explode. Perhaps there’s something I can do to help you get there quicklier?”

I grabbed his hand and snaked it underneath my skirt and placed his finger on my clit, which sent a tiny shock throughout my lower half. “Give this bad girl a stroke, and every now and then a gentle pinch.” He followed orders, touched and brushed my clit and gave it little squeezes, satisfying all my basic needs. I bent down, kissed him on the neck, and caught a whiff of—

My mind went blank. I humped him, so eager for his semen, up and down and up and down, I made him moan a whore’s love song… and suddenly I heard him grunt, and felt him twitch—

As the euphoria began to fade, I realized, ((I now have two full fleets of semen vying for my egg. If I tell Judy I’d allowed some stranger to start a competition for my pregnancy… I don’t know how she would react. Would she be disappointed? Nervous? Jealous? Oh, for certain, she’d be jealous. She’ll be mortified and jealous and there’s going to be nothing she can do about it because she told me I can fuck whoever interests me. I haven’t had a solid opportunity to torment her… until this catboy came into my life. Oh, this one is the perfect way to tinker with her pride, and she’ll be chomping at the bit to fuck me extra hard to plant another load inside me, a fresh flotilla of sperm prepared to sink this tiny catboy’s little love boats. But… if I tell her I’m not letting her put her cum inside me in spite of us both wanting it just because I find denying her sex entertaining…)) I had to admit, I had a mean streak. I could blame the happy pill for wanting to hurt her… except I took it when fully aware of its effects, so being drugged couldn’t excuse such cruelty.

My grandiose excitement about this game of consenting infidelity—this risky contact sport wherein my womb was where the players scrimmaged and my egg the ball they beat each other up over—caught me by surprise, but I was able to avoid revealing satisfaction upon being filled by my Kitty Pink. I then decided that there was no point in hiding my true feelings—he had not a clue what kind of freaky thoughts were going on inside my head and therefore had no reason to suspect I’d set my sights on gathering the cum of every willing donor in the city with a personality I liked—so I allowed myself a grin. “My Furry Pink Boy, you came first—and after promising it would be me that would.”

“Ahh… Oops.”

“Is my new lover proud of himself?”

“My husb—my handler doesn’t let me stick my dick in anything, not in his mouth, not in his ass, not in a fleshlight… Your tight pussy felt so good, I couldn’t stop myself from cumming! I apologize.”

“I won’t absolve you till you answer: Are you proud?”

“No. I feel miserable, wretched, and ashamed.”

“At least you had the fortune to ejaculate inside a pretty girl—without a glove, no less.” ((Or any effective birth control, at that.))

((…Oh, God, I am a fucking freak. I wonder, my dearest, if you would share with me the time of day if you were to find out about the weirdo shit I’m into. Hell, I wonder if a single person here would share the time of day with me. If Judy’s past experiences tell me anything, the answer’s likely ‘no’. I need to tread carefully, lest you reject my love…))

(I’d later learn that roughly three-fifths of the people in that club were also into breeding; three-tenths weren’t but said they’d entertain a partner’s breeding fantasy; the rest said they wouldn’t explore a partner’s breeding kink but understood its allure. I’m speaking of the hardcore pet play devotees of Santa Virginia who roleplay animals for fun, and—while for a significant minority of clubgoers that day there was no sexual component to their play—for the majority of the rest, fucking like an animal was a crucial component of the overarching purpose of spaces such as Asmodeus.)

“Don’t tell my handler, but… that was the best my dick has ever felt. The sex was amazing.”

I wondered whether people were just saying that my prowess was amazing just to be polite, or if he was being sincere—and if he was sincere, I wondered at the possibility the average person was just miserably lacking in competence in the art of sex regardless of the practice they put in… or whether I had some special gift bestowed from Up Above upon my down below. “I get told that a lot… it seems I have a gift for sex.”

I figured my life was, at that point, as good as life gets. Everyone who fucked me told me they enjoyed it and they complimented my cute pussy and the sound I made when I came; I had three lovers, beautiful and handsome, one of whom would buy me fancy clothes and pushed me to pursue my dream of being a detective and then gave me carte blanch to fuck the strangers that I met; the second gifted me my dream job, brought me to an awesome sex club, bought me awesome drugs, and told me to get laid with any pretty soul who caught my eye; and the new guy was a gorgeous wildcard I looked forward to getting to know…

I realized then, with that cute stranger’s cock inside my pussy, that as of Friday night my life had been replaced by dreams, reality ex fantasy.

I kissed my new mate, then made out with him while he was hard inside of me, and gloried in how great my life was, till a thirst welled up within me. “I… would like a drink. A margarita. I’m craving triple sec and tequila… on the rocks. We need to flag down a yellow tux.”

“We pets can’t order for ourselves, didn’t you know that?”

“Oh. Ahh… No. I didn’t.”

“Yeah. The tuxedos only listen to handlers—even if you try to tell them you’re dying of thirst, they’ll act like you’re barking or meowing.”

“Oh. Jeez.” ((I have to lean on someone else to satisfy my needs. Okay. It’s no big deal. If anything… I can’t explain it, not yet, but there’s something fun about that. But… I told Diane I have a drinking problem. Even if I’ve decided it’s fine to take a little break from my sobriety, she might not let me have the drink I need when just an hour ago I threw a fit in response to her playfully telling me, ‘There are no virgins here, so loosen up and have some fun.’ I won’t be able to get any cocktails out of her.)) I assembled a new plan and put it into action. “I want to meet your man.”

“For real? You want to meet my husband after fucking me?”

I nodded. “Yes. I want to know more about the other half of the sweet, cute…” I gently tweaked his whiskers. “…catboy who I fucked till he left his cum inside of me… some kind of felinoid that bred me.” I was reveling in Judy’s kink a little bit too much… or rather, as I then finally admitted to myself, ((It’s my kink, now… and I would like it to be yours as well.)) I was convinced that I would need to fuck him again to get a second load onboard; more sex with any given mate, I reasoned without any scientific data to substantiate, would mean a higher chance of their seed winning—thus the more I harvested, the more that Judy would need to dump inside me if she was to have a chance to win first place—the only place that mattered in a baby-making race.

I squeezed my cunt around his cock and verified that he was still hard. I got back to humping, then unbuttoned his pink dress and gave a shot at tweaking his nips.

“Ah! Those are sensitive!”

“Then I’ll go easier on them.”

“They’re too sensitive, don’t play with them.”

“That sucks, my love, they’re great for getting most folks horny.” Temporarily defeated, I went back to kissing him. I tried combing my fingers through his chest. It was wonderfully soft. “How do you like it when I brush your chest fur?”

“Eh. It’s alright.”

I scoffed. “‘Eh, it’s alright’? Okay, I’ve lost all will to find your feel-good spots, I’m playing with my clit instead.” I did so; with each stroke I brought myself closer, closer, closer to the end.

“Um—I don’t know your name.”

The ultimate was within sight. “My owner has de—(ahh)—decided my name is—(mhh)—Eupraxia.”

“Okay, Eupraxia, I’m almost there.”

It hovered close, close, close enough that I could touch it; so I turned my wits towards my fingers dancing across my clit and concentrated on maintaining a consistent pressure-rhythm-stroke. I pulled a tit out of my dress to twist a nipple—that sensation sent a jolt of chemicals into my brain, initiating the collapse of all my nervous system, pinch, twist, stroke, rub, pinch twist stroke rub pinch twist stroke rub PINCH—

My legs and toes stiffened beneath me; my back muscles tightened, causing me to arch. “Eupraxia, I’m cum—‍”

My little cry of pleasure interrupted Pink Boy’s warning just as he began to twitch inside me. “—ming.” My legs shook as they lost all strength; I collapsed forward, in turn forcing me to brace my fall with all the strength remaining in my arms so I could gently lower myself onto him.

We laid there in that sweat-soaked, cum-stained pet bed for some minutes afterwards. I kissed his cheek and licked his neck. “I think we came at the same time. It feels a bit romantic, Pink.”

“Yes. You made a noise. A cute sex noise.”

“If ever I get into pornos, I’ll trademark all the sounds I make.”

“They’ll pay you out the nose in royalties.”

I nibbled on his ear. “Your hard-on’s gone.”

“You cured my priapismic Heaven-Hell with pussy power. My husband is gonna be… amused.”

“Because I succeeded where he failed? Am I the better mate?”

“Of course you are, but that’s not to say he hasn’t made me soft post-nut a few times by pounding on my prostate for two hours straight, even if it takes him half a dozen of his orgasms to get me there. But he has no idea I’m bi, so telling him a pretty woman made my boner take a break might go quite interestingly.”

“We have something to talk about while getting smashed!”

“We do. So let’s return to him.”

I lifted myself off of him—and as soon as he was no longer plugging me, something dripped out of me and presumably plopped onto his pelvis, and what remained trickled down my inner thigh. ((I hope that doesn’t stain my dress.)) It then proceeded down my calf, down my ankle, down into my shoe, and down beneath my arch. ((And I hope that washes out as well.))

Our clothes in place, he led me across the dance floor, through the crowd, and in the general direction of a booth on the manly margin of the club… where, seated in the booth, was his division’s Officer of All the Months for as far back as my memory served, my dearest bosom buddy: