"Agreement," she said. "I did not before fully appreciate the pleasure of such variations. Reading your mind makes it worse."
He put the tip of the funnel there and nudged it in, seeing it slowly penetrate until all of the narrow spout section was within her body, her anus stretched around it. This act stiffened his penis to maximum. He poured in the juice, and watched it swirl down and through, making its way inside her rectum. What an emission!
"Agreement," she murmured.
When the last of it disappeared, he pulled out the funnel. Her anus closed with minimal leakage. She was filled.
"You're right," she said. "It feels like a huge cold ejaculation, or an enema. Either will do." She flexed her thighs, visibly tightening her sphincter.
"Weft," he said with sudden urgency.
"Acquiescence," she said, maintaining her position. "But I want to—"
"Do it!" She was still reading his mind and not revolted, amazingly. She was a different creature from her sisters.
He got down on hands and feet, placed his turgid member at her anus, and pushed it in slowly past the sphincter.
When he felt the swollen head of his penis in the looser flesh beyond her anus, he let himself go and rammed it home, straight down, like a brigand rape. He felt the cool grape juice around him. He didn't even need to thrust again; he spurted instantly. It was like injecting water at high pressure into a deep well.
She joined him, her sphincter clenching rhythmically on the base of his member, her belly convulsing. "Oh what a feeling," she gasped. "Yours and mine. Kiss me!" She let go of her hips and descended, and he followed her down, still jetting.
He got his face in place and kissed her mouth. Their tongues met as their twin orgasms faded. Then he collapsed on her, spent in more than one sense.
After a time, they resumed awareness of their surroundings. "I think we are leaking," Weft said.
He got up. Purple juice had squeezed out around his penis where it distended her anus, and more was dribbling from the hole as she let it go. Juice was staining his groin and legs; he had jetted some out of his own hole while locked in the throes of sex. He sat quickly on the toilet and let more flow out. What an experience!
"Concurrence," she said. She got up, found a cup, and held it to her anus, catching the continuing flow. "I have had a lot of experience, of considerable variety, but this is a first time."
He had to laugh. "Gratitude for not being revolted."
"Needless. That was fun. We must do it again, with another flavor and full glasses."
He shook his head, bemused. Even in his state of sexual exhaustion, this was tempting. "I thought you were just another Glamor. I was mistaken."
"I thought you were just another man. Ditto."
The bathroom floor was soaking in juice. Weft fetched a map and cleaned it up as she set the tub to filling. Then they took a joint bath, washing each other and kissing repeatedly. He loved her full wet breasts! Her plush bottom.
Her lithe torso. He couldn't get enough of her.
"About the memory girl," she said, resuming her discussion of the mission.
"But if she is really you—"
"I can't allow my memories to become part of this. I will have to bury my nature in a cellar. You know the concept?"
"Flame acquainted me," he agreed. "A hidden section of the mind that can't be fathomed by mind readers. It seems not even to be there."
"Correct. While I am that girl, I will have no power over her decisions and actions. I will dare not express myself, lest I give away my nature. So you will support the role, treating her as she seems to be. This is why I want the company of someone I can trust."
"But we have no long acquaintance."
"I trust my sister's judgment. She trusts you. So can I."
"Appreciation," he said weakly. "But there is something. Voila says I am a nexus. We don't know in what manner. That may complicate trust."
"Being a nexus means you're important. It is irrelevant to trust."
"Not if what I know or learn becomes relevant to the war with the machines."
She smiled. "I'll risk it."
"I will do my best. What kind of girl will you become?"
"Unknown."
"Question?"
"I am about to find out. I will locate a prospect with a suitable memory, and then approach her."
They wound up having sex yet again, with her lying on him, facing up, their point of connection under the water.
This time he was unable to complete it on his own, and accepted her enhancement. She gave him a lesser dose, so that they were able to lie connected for fifteen minutes before climaxing. There was a special delight in that conjoined relaxation. The climax itself was weaker, for him, but still highly satisfying. At least this time he wouldn't be eager for sex again in five minutes.
"Is that five in succession?" he asked, amazed.
She lifted her hands and counted or her fingers. "On the bed. On the sink. From behind. With the grape juice. In the tub. We have made half our quota already."
"And you never forced me."
"You are quite a man, Fifth. For a mortal."
He laughed, knowing it was literaclass="underline" what had taken him two hours a Glamor could have done in ten minutes. "Appreciation."
"But we really must get to work, between sexual sessions."
"Affirmation," he agreed gladly. "When and where is the memory collection?"
"The one I want is in a distant Black Chroma zone, tomorrow."
"Tomorrow! But if you have yet to find a girl—"
"I will search for her now. If I seem slightly distracted, it is because my mind is reaching out to locate a suitable prospect."
"I will let you alone, then."
"Negation. The mental search is dull. You may entertain me with your presence."
"Question?"
"Sex." She went nude to the bed and lay down.
"You want me to—after all we have already—"
"Apology. I'm supposed to leave it to you."
"Too late," he said ruefully. "The thought has been introduced to my crude male mind." He joined her on the bed.
"You may sleep if you prefer. I just wanted you to know that it is no rejection of you if I seem less than completely responsive. But I will appreciate whatever you initiate. It will help keep me awake for my search."
"Understanding."
Thus commenced a remarkable night, following a remarkable afternoon. He fell asleep while kissing her breasts, got a nocturnal erection, woke, and entered her, she sighing absent-mindedly. Then he slept again, but later woke again, finding her turned around, and entered her from behind. She cooperated, but relatively passively.
Yet she appeared genuinely appreciative of his efforts. It seemed she had meant it when she said they helped keep her awake.
"Confirmation," she said. "When I nod off, you tackle me again, and that wakes me. Gratitude."
He kissed her, bemused. She was thanking him for continually rousing her from sleep.
By morning they had done it five more times. Fifth, who had never really been turned before by full fleshed women, somehow found Weft phenomenally sexy.
"Done," she said brightly.
"Regret."
She looked at him.
"Negation; I did not mean that the sex was finished. You can have it a hundred times if you wish. I meant that I have found the girl." Oh. "Good news."
"She is Page, an assistant librarian in a Black Chroma zone. She has memories of secret sex."
"Coincidence?"
"Negation. I looked for a Black Chroma person, so she could travel no fault with you without attracting attention, and for secret sex, because that is the category that remains open."
She smiled. "I can't think why folk are reluctant to advertise their most secret trysts."
He had to smile. "What we did yesterday—the grape juice—Flame would never have countenanced. I am amazed that you did. I would not have been surprised if you had berated me for my filthy mind."