She turned and bent forward over the sink, presenting her posterior to him. He lifted his half-thickened member and put it to her cleft from behind. She was right: the novelty of this standing position stimulated him. He still was not completely stiff, but was able to slide his member in. Then he reached around her to take hold of her dangling breasts, and felt another measure of expansion.
"Pleasure," she said, tensing her plush buttocks against him.
That did it. He thrust, and thrust again, feeling the slow climax building. She synchronized her squeezes, enhancing the process, and her breathing made her breasts seem to expand and contract in his hands. Finally, with repeated thrusts, he generated a slow but breathtakingly intense climax. She joined him, squeezing his member and relaxing in time with the thrusts.
"Satiation!" he gasped, half collapsing against her back as his limp member dropped out.
"And I did not boost you, this time," she said.
"Not magically," he agreed. "Oh, Weft—I want to hold you!"
"Hold me," she agreed, turning to face him. They stood tightly embraced.
Then he kissed her, passionately. "I know it's just the hormones," he said. "It happens after sex. But right now I think I love you."
"Understanding." Then, after a pause: "Confession."
"Question?"
"I think I enhanced you too much, for the second effort. Some may have carried through, causing you to react more than you might otherwise have, when we washed the second time. So maybe I did push you, when I said I wouldn't."
"Forgiven. It was a great experience."
"Appreciation. I will be more careful next time."
In due course they separated again, and washed again. This time they made it back into their clothing.
"Here is the situation," Weft said. "An outfit is collecting memories."
"Question?"
"Concurrence. They are offering prizes for people who provide them with the best memories for their collection. It might be harmless diversion, but they are evidently serious, and we think the machines are behind it."
Fifth shook his head ruefully. "The machines seem to be behind everything, these days."
"They do seem to have considerably resources, and they don't take halfway measures. So we need to know what they're up to, and why. What do they care about individual memories, when they mean to destroy us all anyway?"
"Could they be seeking some easier way to conquer us? By studying us, fathoming our weaknesses?"
"Possibly. All the more reason for us to be abreast of it." She glanced down at her breasts. "So to speak."
"What do you have in mind?"
"To participate." She smiled. "Not as a Glamor. As an ordinary girl with a memory eager for the prize."
"Prize?"
"They offer physical health and appeal to those who present the best memories. An ugly girl might become attractive. A weak man might become strong. Independent of illusion; they offer real enhancements."
"That would be tempting for many" he agreed. "How did you learn of this?"
"Surprise: they actually printed ads in books. Slips of paper providing details and news of prizes. They have been at it several months, and their prizes seem valid."
"Ugly girls, weak men?"
"Are becoming pretty and strong. So there is getting to be a fair response, and we suspect they are gathering many memories. Harmless, so far. Not centered on planetary weaknesses; they take different types. So, again, why?"
"We need to know," he agreed. "How am I to help? I am not sure my memories of sexy Glamors should be shared."
"Agreement!" she said, laughing. "I will be the one to share a memory."
"As an anonymous girl," he agreed.
"Who travels no fault with a protective man. His object, apart from getting into her pants, will be to see that she is not abused or cheated. The proprietors actually encourage the presence of such advocates. They want everyone to know they are legitimate."
"And I will be that man."
"Confirmation. I expect you to take good care of that girl."
Now he saw their two glasses of grape juice, half finished, set aside when they broke for the first bout of sex. "I have an evil thought," he said, annoyed with himself.
"You are a marvel of imagination," she said, reading it.
"You are not disgusted?" For Flame would have been revolted. Sometimes he had rogue ideas that had to be suppressed.
"Negation. Intrigued. It may be my fault anyway, if the enhancement still lingers."
"Something about seeing the glasses in this context. I am ashamed."
She put her hands on his shoulders and looked into his face. "Fifth, this about that: I am not suggesting things to you, but I am amenable to whatever you suggest. I never thought of this before, but what you envision is naughtily exciting. Please don't tease me further. Let's do it."
She was accepting his dark male fantasy. That was an exciting surprise. "Agreement."
She went to her cupboard and got a small funnel. "Who first?"
"Me, I thought of it, and if you change your mind, that's fair."
"You are a fair man. I like that."
They undressed again, then took the funnel and the two drinks to the bathroom. Fifth lay on the floor and drew his knees up to his chin so that his butt lifted. He put his hands to his hips to raise his butt further, pointing it at the ceiling. Weft rubbed the tip of the funnel against her cleft, wetting it with her slippery moisture. She also rubbed her forefinger there. Then she got down and carefully inserted her finger into his anus. At first it resisted, but then it relaxed, and she got her finger in. It felt like sexual penetration, and he wondered whether this was what sex felt like for the woman. She worked it around, making sure the hole was well lubricated, then brought down the funnel and touched it to the same aperture. Using the fingers of one hand to spread the sphincter somewhat, she worked the tip of the funnel in. Watching and feeling this strengthened the erection he had developed.
When the funnel was firmly embedded, its tip past the sphincter, she took one glass and slowly poured the remaining grape juice into the cone. He felt its coolth entering his rectum. When it backed up in the funnel, she glanced at his face. "Inhale."
He did, his innards expanded, she wiggled the funnel, and the juice flowed in unobstructed. He watched the procedure, picturing the liquid coursing into his colon. What an infusion! It seemed to flow forever, a dark river finding its nether pool within the receptive living cave. His rigid penis was drooling goo onto his belly. When at last all of the juice was inside, she withdrew the funnel and touched his anus. "Clench." He did, and the purple liquid was locked inside him.
He put down his legs and got to his feet as she rinsed off the funnel. He felt the cold liquid pressing against his tight sphincter. "Illicit excitement."
"Concurrence. Now do me." She got down and adopted a similar posture, her knees to her chin, her hands bracing her hips, her cleft raised to close to level, its lips parting to show everything. Clitoris, urinary slit, vagina now an open hole, puckered anus. He was fascinated by the sight, and his member made a valiant effort to stiffen further, dripping.
He took some of the elixir elongating from the tip of his penis and spread it around the tip of the funnel. He smeared more on his finger. It was quite slippery, surely intended by nature to facilitate exactly such penetration. He put the finger to her anus, rubbing in the gel, then poking the tip slowly in. Her anus gave way after a moment, as his had, and his finger slid smoothly in up to the second knuckle. He flexed it, to spread the lubricant, feeling her rectum closing warmly around it.
"Like a prehensile penis," she said, laughing.
Indeed. This was a new form of sex, another turn-on. He wished he could linger longer, exploring her orifices in this manner at leisure, but maybe that would best be saved for another time.