Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft, mt/Fa, Science Fiction, Aliens, Oral Sex, Sex Toys, Cream Pie, Exhibitionism, Tit-Fucking, .
Desc: Science Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Skinner Box (n.) - A psychological testing device in which a subject is compelled to take specific actions or exhibit certain behaviors via a combination or positive and negative reinforcement. Adam Cartwell has found himself trapped in just such a device, and the aliens responsible won't explain why. On the plus side, the positive reinforcement tends to be really positive!
There is nothing more unnerving than waking up somewhere other than your own bedroom. There’s always a moment of confusion as your body starts acting on memory while it waits for your conscious mind to catch up. That can be a bit of a problem if, say, you were to go camping and try to swing your legs out of a bed that’s not actually there and end up kicking your little brother in the face instead.
It’s even worse when you wake up buck ass naked in the middle of a large metal room.
The first thing my body registered was cold. That brought my mind a-runnin’ as I sat bolt upright, and that was when I realized I was completely starkers. Fear blanked my thoughts as I stared at my surroundings, trying to piece together what the Hell was going on. Problem was, there wasn’t damned thing to see except for featureless metal walls. And I do mean nothing. Real quick, look around you. Where’s the light? If you’re outside, it is the sun. If you’re inside, it could be on the ceiling, mounted to the wall, or built into a table side lamp. It’s also possible that you’re the sort like me to be reading this in the dark well past your bedtime, which means the light is coming from your device of choice.
There were no lights.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying it was dark. Truthfully, it was bright enough to be a summer afternoon. But there weren’t any lights. No, the walls weren’t glowing. No, there wasn’t some stupid fairy thing hovering next to my head trying to be a helpful guide. There weren’t any fucking lights. And if you can’t believe that, then you might as well just stop reading now because this story just gets stranger from here.
“What the fuck is going on?” I demanded as I scrambled to my feet. At least I had feet. A quick pat down revealed yup, everything was just as intact as it had been when I fell asleep. The last thing I remember was passing out in bed, having spent the previous three hours cramming for an algebra exam I was supposed to be taking the next morning. I had been in my bed, in my home, just like any other sixteen year old boy. And now I wasn’t.
As if my demand were it’s cue, a metal cylinder rose out of the floor off to my left. It was about four feet tall, maybe a foot across, and seemed to be made out of the same material as the floor. There weren’t any visible seams to mark where one ended and the other began. Just boop, there it was. Hoping it was some sort of clue or explanation about my predicament, I walked over to investigate.
Sitting in the center of the cylinder was a small black dome, like the sort used to disguise security cameras in department stores. Arranged around it were three buttons, each a different color. Green, Red, and Purple Glitter. Yes, purple glitter. I told you this story got stranger. The green button was blinking, so not having any better ideas I went ahead and pressed it.
Four shapes popped up above the black dome, separated in the middle by a space. The first two shapes were a triangle and a horizontal line, while the other pair consisted of a vertical line and a pentagon. The space in the middle was glowing, as if something were supposed to be there. All I could do was stare at in bafflement. After a few seconds passed the red button began to blink, but I just ignored it. I knew a test when I saw one and figured the red button was some sort of quit option. There was no way that I was going to just give up on the very first question, however confusing it seemed.
“Can I phone a friend?” I muttered as I walked around the puzzle. As I turned, so did the puzzle, ensuring that the four symbols always stayed in the same pattern. That meant their order was important. But what was the question, and more important, how was I supposed to answer it? Triangle, line, space, line, pentagon. It had to be something mathematical. Could have been an art test, but art was too abstract, too variable. My mom was a huge Jackson Pollock fan, but I figured I made more impressive modern art just jacking off in the shower. Give me a Boris Vallejo or Luis Royo any day of the week. Now that was art. Shapes, not numbers. But would whatever had kidnapped me understand Arabic numerals? Mayans and Egyptians both used hieroglyphics, but that doesn’t mean one was the same as the other. No matter where you went on Earth, a triangle always had three sides.
Acting on impulse, I reached out and touched the glowing spot. Three shapes popped up in it’s place, a two sided arrow, a square, and a hexagon. Realization dawned, and I tapped the picture of the square. The glow vanished as the shape fit itself into the pattern, and the sparkling purple button began to glow. I gave it a quick tap.
I turned towards the odd noise and was surprised to discover that the featureless room was no longer featureless. Now there was a king sized four-post bed occupying a decent chunk of space. It was a ridiculous thing, straight out of some Victorian melodrama, complete with bunting, half a dozen bedspreads, and enough pillows to stock a Bed, Bath, and Beyond. When I turned back to the cylinder, the green button had lit up again.
“Okay, answer stupid questions, win fun prizes,” I muttered as I once again tapped the green button. I didn’t know if there was anything watching me or listening to me, but the sound of my own voice was oddly reassuring. The dome lit up again, this time asking me to play a game of tic-tact-toe. I got the start each time, and the first two times I played to the center and ended up tying. The third game I gambled on a corner and managed to win. It was only tic-tact-toe, though, and I figured that I had to have been playing against the computer, so figured it was a gimme win. Once again the purple button lit up.
And that was how I got my refrigerator. I stepped away from the cylinder and opened the fridge door. Sure enough, it was packed with food. Milk, eggs, various fruits, veggies, and meats. All raw ingredients, and not a damned bit of junk food in sight. That was actually kind of disappointing. My head was starting to hurt from the odd lighting, and I would have killed for a bit of caffeine to help deal with the headache.
“Maybe on the next go around,” I said as I stepped back to the cylinder. Yup, there was the green button, ready and waiting. Another tap, and I found myself using nuts and washers to raise the water level of a glass to the point where I could grab a toy boat. Once again, the sparkling purple button lit up.
This time, the black dome lit up again. Hovering above it were pictures of a sword, mace, or ax. I’d done a bit of LARPing over the summer, where I’d been role playing a member of a barbarian horde. It was hardly the weapon of a more civilized age, but I had the feeling that there wasn’t much civilized about my current situation so I tapped the ax.
Still no zwhim.
“I guess it would be too much to ask that my kidnappers give me a weapon,” I laughed as the green button came back on. Another math problem popped up, asking me to match two triangles to a hexagon. My reward for having graduated kindergarten was a stove and built in oven. The next question got me the pots and pans it would actually take to cook the food, and my sixth question won me a table to eat at. Like a rat in a cage, I kept pressing the green button every time it lit up. The questions were random, sometimes asking me to solve math problems, other times to identify patterns or find a solution for some situational based puzzle. By the end of the first half hour, I had managed to acquire enough furniture for a decent apartment, though none of it really matched. The bed was Victorian, the table IKEA. My TV looked like something dreamed up in the 60s, but played high definition like a modern flat screen. Meanwhile, the couch and easy chairs were straight out of one of Scientific Americans Where We’ll Be In Fifty Years articles.
The furniture didn’t all come in order, however. Every three to five questions I would get another one of those Choose Your Own options that never seemed to materialize. Would I prefer a sniper rifle or a rocket launcher? Battle mech or tank? Armor or what I thought might have been some sort of magic spell? It didn’t matter what the choices were, they all seemed to have something to do with combat or fighting. I couldn’t tell what the point of those choices were, and there never seemed to be a pacifist option.
The farther I went, the harder the questions became, but they also became more human at the same time. Shapes were replaced by actual numbers and digital avatars would ask questions and demand answers in English. The first time it caught me off guard, when the computer posed the traditional Knights and Knaves dilemma. I was so surprised that at first I missed the fact that it was a timed question and nearly failed it. I did fail the next math question, then the one that followed that as well. There was no punishment for failure, however, and when the next one popped up with a formula consisting of nothing but letters and Greek symbols I tapped the red button. The question obligingly vanished, but the sparkling purple button didn’t light up, either. I skipped the following five math questions as well. The system didn’t care that I skipped them, but neither did it make them any easier going forward. Instead it treated things as if I had answered the question correctly and increased the difficulty of the ones that followed, right up until I skipped the fifth.
After having skipped five math questions in a row, there was a pause as the system seemed to be evaluating things. I got two more logic puzzles and a riddle before it decided to throw me a curve ball. Right after that a man in ancient Chinese garb materialized and asked, “What is the sound of the sun rising?”
I blinked and asked, “What?”
He smiled pleasantly and bowed his head. “Your answer is accepted.” The purple button lit up as he vanished, and this time when I tapped it I got another selection of weapons, this one asking me to pick between what looked like a lightsaber and some sort of starfish shaped thing with blades at the end of each arm. It was a decision that was no decision. I picked the lightsaber, duh.
Decision made, I stepped back and stared at the blinking green button. Just what sort of question was that, anyway? It was the sort of thing I expected to find in a cheap fortune cookie. And why had it accepted ‘What?’ as an answer? It wasn’t intended to be one, but was just a statement of confusion. Had the machine decided that me being confused was the answer?
“What the Hell is the point of all this, anyway?” I demanded of the empty room. I pointed angrily at the ceiling, as if intending to scold God. “Just who the fuck is running this little game? Do I get to meet you at all, or is this just some elaborate experiment to see how long it takes see if I break? Well, guess what? Fuck you! Find someone else to plug into your little Skinner box!”
A Skinner box. I winced as soon as I said the words, realizing that was exactly what I had found myself trapped in. It was high school psychology. B.F. Skinner, grandfather of behavioral psychology. Take a rat, stick it in a box with a lever. Connect the lever to a food dispenser, then count how many times the rat presses the lever. Or, conversely, hook it up to some sort of electric shock and count how many tries it takes before the rat avoids the lever altogether. If you want to make it more complicated, put both levers in the box and watch the rat try to figure out which one is which.
“Okay, so if the questions are the food lever, where is the shock lever?” I murmured under my breath. By that point I was absolutely convinced that I was being watched in one way or another. My captors hadn’t bothered to communicate with me yet, at least not outside of my interactions with the cylinder. But even that was a form of communication in a way. They were learning my responses, but when I stopped to think about I realized they’d been giving me information in return.
I stepped away from the cylinder and wandered over to the couch they had given me. I turned on the TV and started flipping through channels. All the major cable networks were there, including the movie channels. Yes, even the adult ones. The local channels were missing, though. I considered wanking off, but decided to let that wait for later. Instead I flipped it back to CNN. Had my disappearance made the news? It didn’t look like it. The talking heads were talking about the war in Afghanistan, as if it were some hot breaking thing. I watched the ticker roll by on the bottom, waiting to see if my name went across the screen. That was when I noticed the time. October 16th, 2001.
Ice chilled my veins as I realized the news I was watching was over two years old. The reason the newscasters were so hyped up about the war in Afghanistan was because, to them, it was a new thing. How long had whatever been watching us that this was the news? Had they been there two years ago when we invaded? Or were they just picking this up now? They must have had access to popular entertainment if they knew what a lightsaber was, but were they aware it was fiction? I’d read far too many SF stories were the aliens hadn’t had a concept of fiction and so either under or over estimated humanity’s capability. Was my abduction an experiment or a prelude to invasion? I hoped it wasn’t the latter; an enemy with stealth, FTL, teleporters, and whatever else it would have taken to abduct me without being caught or stopped would likely be able to take out a good chunk of the planet if they were so inclined. What if my answers to the nonsense questions were the only thing keeping humanity safe? What if they were judging us based off my reactions?
I was sixteen. That was way too young to have the fate of the world heaped on my shoulders, but I really couldn’t see any way around it. The aliens, and that point I was absolutely convinced it had to be aliens who had kidnapped me, had put me in my box for a reason. If they wanted to use me as a guinea pig in their little experiments, then I’d be a happy little guinea pig and just pray that they weren’t going to need to do any autopsies.
“No probing!” I shouted to the room as my anxiety got the better of me and I got up off the couch to head back to the cylinder. I stabbed my middle finger at the ceiling. “I mean it! If you really want to figure out how the human body works, go steal a biology textbook! We already did the work for you!”
When I got back to the cylinder I discovered that it had changed. The green and red buttons had been removed, replaced with a glowing yellow one. The sparkling purple button was still there, but it had gone dim. The black dome had also changed, now a faintly pulsing blue. I frowned as I considered the differences.
“Not really much of an option, is there?” I asked as my hand reached for the yellow button.
One second I was standing in my Skinner Box and the next I was standing out in the middle of an open field, about fifty feet across, surrounded by trees on all side. The sky was an off shade of green, and the sun was a dim white, so weak that I could look straight at it with no problems. The air was thick and tasted slightly bitter, like I’d been eating too many almonds. A tall, flat rock stood next to me, with an ax resting across the top of it. It was a huge, two-handed, double-headed thing with a silver skull mounted at the top between the two blades. I looked at the ax, looked at the sky, and blurted, “You have got to be kidding me!”
As if in answer, a bolt of blue lightning streaked out of the sky to silently strike the far side of the field. It left behind a squat, green skinned, toad-like alien with four arms mounted in alternating shoulders. The two upper arms were short, stubby little things not much longer than a toddler’s. The lower pair were much more heavily muscled and quite a bit longer to boot. The lower hands held a two-handed sword. The Toadian crouched on its hind legs as it scanned the field, and when it spotted me it tipped its head back and let out a a high pitched shriek like a steam engine fucking an air raid siren.
Then the fucker jumped.
Look, NBA teams would have paid a fortune for this guy. He managed to clear the field in two long hops that barely left me enough time to grab my ax off the rock. The thing was even uglier up close and personal, with flat, milky-white oval shaped eyes that never blinked and random brown spotting that made it look like his flesh was rotting off his body. His sword came down in an over hand chop that would have cut me in two if I hadn’t dived out of the way.
I ended up face down in the mud, but had managed to hold on to my ax. I didn’t try to look back, but instead rolled on to my back and lifted the ax sideways to block the swing that I knew was coming. Too many people look back, as if unsure that their opponent is still there. Of course they’re still there. And yes, they’re still trying to kill you. Don’t look. Fight.
Sure enough, the Toadian tried another overhead strike. This one wasn’t as powerful as the first, since he’d only bunny hopped forward. Still, I felt my bones jar together as his blade smacked off the ax’s long handle. I kicked out, and my bare foot pounded against rubbery skin. You know how some species of frogs have poisonous skin, so that predators don’t eat them? Well, this jackass had acidic skin and I screamed like a whiny bitch as the sole of my foot started to burn. There wasn’t smoke, but I swear there was smoke. I yanked my foot back almost as quickly as I had lashed out with it.
I must have hurt him, too, as the Toadian hopped backwards. He landed funny, listing sideways in the direction of the leg I had kicked. Found out later that Toadians have bird-like bone structures, one of the reasons they can leap so high, and I’d basically shattered the equivalent of his tibia. That gave me enough time to get back to my feet, though it hurt like hell when I placed any weight on my burned foot.
We shuffled in a circle, each trying to figure out the best way to get at the other. I had no idea why he was trying to kill me, but I also wasn’t in the mood to ask any questions, not right then. I figured it was very much a Do Unto Others sort of situation, especially since he seemed rather adamant about doing unto me. Unfortunately, all the weapons I had ever fought with had been made out of foam, and while you could give someone a good smacking if you hit them hard enough, they had never really been intended to be dangerous. It didn’t take an IQ of 130 to figure out that the Toadian’s sword was made out Sharp and Deadly and that getting stuck with it would have made a mince out of me.
Funny thing about Toadians. That double arm structure of theirs required some odd trade offs when it came time to evolve. While the upper arms are smaller and weaker, they also have almost a full range of motion. The lower arms, while longer and more powerful, are also more limited. Most theories I’ve heard are that they evolved from what were effectively a second pair of legs, and were mostly used to get around while the upper arms were used to gather food. And that was pretty much the only reason I managed to win the fight. Because while the Toadian had an extremely powerful chop, he had pretty much no swing. So when he came in for his next attack, I was ready for him. I thrust my ax up, leading not with the blades, but with the space between them. I twisted my grip as his sword fell between the two ax heads, slamming them sideways into the length of his blade. It was a trick I’d learned at the LARP, and was particularly useful for disarming people. In this case, the Toadian’s grip was too powerful for me to rip the sword out of his hands. The sword itself, however, was made of weaker stuff and shattered under the applied forces.
Jagged metal flew through the hazy sky, but I barely registered what had happened as I launched into my own counter attack. I stepped back, putting my weight on my good foot, and pivoted in place. The ax swung in a low, horizontal circle right through the space where his blade should have been. The Toadian let out a surprised grunt as the ax buried itself in his chest, taking a step back at the same time I yanked it free. Green blood spurted out of a cut about a foot across, pouring out of him like a river that had broken through a dam. The Toadian sagged backwards onto his bent legs, then vanished in another silent bolt of blue lightning.
“-Hell?” I gasped. The alien world had vanished, replaced once more with my Skinner Box. I looked down at my neck body, and realized I was covered in puke-green gore. The entire fight had lasted less than ten minutes. Apparently my opponent had spurted blood even more powerfully than I realized. My foot, however, was completely fine. When I yanked it up to take a look at it, there was a fresh patch of pale skin covering the area where I had gotten the acid burns. It stood out against the dirty, calloused skin that marked the rest of my foot. If it wasn’t so oddly clean, I would have wondered if I had ever been injured at all.
The ax was gone, of course, but a new feature had been added to my faux-apartment, one I hadn’t realized had been missing before: a shower. I hobbled towards it, my mind still insisting that I had to be careful of my no-longer injured foot. The shower was rather spacious, boxed in on four sides by smoked glass to keep the steam from getting out. I turned it on full blast, fiddling with the knobs until I got it to exactly the right temperature. I must have spent a good hour in there, just letting the hot water burn away all the dirt, gore, and stress that I had managed to accumulate in the course of my day.
“What time is it?” I wondered as I stepped out of the shower. Looking around, I was forced to acknowledge that none of my new belongings had anything remotely like a clock. In the end, it was my stomach that had the answer. It started to gurgle, reminding me that I hadn’t had anything to eat since I had woken up in the strange room. Deciding that food ought to be my next priority, I fetched out a steak from the fridge and slapped it into a pan. The room was quickly filled with the scent of sizzling meat. I waited until the juices were just starting to bubble up through the top before flipping it, and then again before pulling it from the heat. I managed to scrounge up a knife and fork, and when I cut into it, the meat was just the right combination of pink and moist. It was rather bland tasting, was actually in desperate need for some seasoning or marinade, but I figured that would a problem for the next one. The only thing that mattered was that it left me feeling pleasantly full.
Having finally sated my hunger, I wandered back over to the cylinder. I wasn’t interested in answering any more questions and I resolved not to press any more flashing yellow buttons, but I was curious to see if it had changed again. Turned out that it had. The yellow button had vanished, replaced once more with the green and red ones, and the dome had returned to its normal dark state.
The sparkling purple button, however, had started to flash.
“I guess that counted as something worth rewarding,” I said as I tapped the button.
“What the fuck?!“
I whirled around in surprise at the feminine shriek of surprise, only for my eyes to bug out of my head as I realized my latest reward wasn’t just another piece of furniture.
Eve Benson was, hands down, one of the most popular girls in my school. She’d hit five-eight by the time we’d made it to our sophomore year, with a double D rack that she always managed to somehow squeeze into the tightest shirts and dresses. Her preference for micro shorts meant her long, toned legs were always on display. By all logic she should have spent most of her time in detention for dress code violations, but punishing her would have meant making her change and there wasn’t a single straight guy in the world who would have made that decision. Hell, some of the more adventurous female teachers would have complained if Eve was ever made to properly cover up. It didn’t hurt that she’d ended up with a fairly pleasant disposition. She had the sort of body that could give a guy a hard on just by looking at her, but for some reason she’d never tried to use her powers for evil. She was hardly a saint and was quite capable of joining in on gossiping if that was what everyone else was doing, but she never had to put someone else down to build herself up.
We’d actually been friends when I was younger, at least for a time. She’d lived a couple of blocks down from me and her mother had worked with my mother, so we saw a lot of each other both at school and in the local park. We hadn’t quite been best friends, but we had no problem sharing secrets and always went to each others birthday parties. There’d even been a couple of joint family vacations. Unfortunately, we started drifting apart sometime around puberty. It had hit her earlier and harder than it had me, and while she turned to socializing and cheerleading, I turned to comic books and science fiction novels. It wasn’t a conscious decision. It just was.
Somehow, I always thought my mom was a little disappointed in that.
Of course, the fact that she could make any guy hard just by looking meant my thoughts were forced to take a leave of absence as my blood rushed to southern climes. Long, chestnut brown hair spilled down over her tits to partially hide her rose pink nipples, turning every breath in an erotic game of peek-a-boo. Her skin still held the last traces of her summer tan and the thin landing strip running leading down to her pussy was just icing on the cake. I’m not trying to make any excuses, I’m just saying that looking at her would have made Elton John think about going straight.
‘Don’t forget, she’s just as naked as you are!’ the oxygen deprived portion of my mind giggled. I felt my skin grow hot as I realized she could see just how much of an effect she was having on me. That didn’t do anything to relieve the throbbing in my groin, however, and matters weren’t helped in any way when Eve screamed, “Adam!” I flinched, expecting her to yell at me. What she did was actually quite a bit worse.
One moment I was staring at the most desirable young woman I had ever met, then the next thing I knew that body was pressed tightly against mine, her soft curves molding against my chest as arms locked together behind my back. The heady scent of cinnamon filled my nose and my erection pressed against her flat belly as she hugged me close. I didn’t know whether to try and push her away or hug her back, but either decision was a moot point as she’d managed to trap my arms against my sides.
“Hey, Eve,” I managed to wheeze. The girl was strong. I’d forgotten that her height had made Eve a natural base during cheerleading events, and she’d developed quite a bit of upper body strength supporting all those smaller girls. I managed to roll my shoulders back, breaking her death grip on my spine. She seemed to get the hint and eased up, but her hands were still clasped behind my neck.
Pale blue eyes stared into mine as she asked, “Where are we?”
“We’re in a Skinner Box,” I answered as I gently opened enough space between us to breathe. “At least I think we’re in a Skinner Box.”
“The thing with the rats that Mrs. Calosa was talking about last year?” Fear pinched her face as she once again invaded my personal space. I had to fight back a frustrated groan as she frantically looked around the room. “There aren’t any rats here, are there? I hate rats! Please tell me there aren’t any rats!”
“No rats,” I squeaked as my spine dented inwards. Christ, the girl must have been part boa! My brain was desperately looking for an escape route. My penis was stupidly hoping she’d hug me a little tighter. She must have heard the pain in my voice because she backed off again. This time she let go of me entirely and took an embarrassed step backwards, tucking her hands behind her back in a way that naturally thrust her chest forward. I couldn’t help but notice there was a shiny little wet spot just to the left of her navel where my dick had been pressed against her. “I’m not even entirely sure we’re on Earth anymore.”
“Oh.” Eve frowned, unsure how to react to that. Not that I blamed her. I’d so far managed to avoid thinking about it too much by playing the cylinder’s games.
“What’s the last thing you remember?” I asked as I guided us to the bed. Okay, yes, I was hoping to get laid, no, I wasn’t expecting to get laid, but in all honesty it didn’t occur to me to aim for the couch.
Eve flopped down on top of the comforter, then scooted sideways to make room for me. We ended up with me on by back and my arms around her shoulders. And my dick straight up in the air. She had to be able to see it, there was no way that she couldn’t see, but Eve still hadn’t said anything about it. What she said instead was, “I was ... in bed.”
There was something about the way she said it that made me curious. “In bed... ?”
“Just in bed,” Eve replied a little too quickly. Her face turned a deep scarlet, and she suddenly couldn’t look me in the eye. She had no problem running her fingers over my chest, though. “Doing, you know, the things that people do in bed.”
I knew full well what people did in bed. “Making modern art?”
The confusion was written plain across her face as she looked up at me and asked, “What?”
Eve frowned, then shook her head. “Okaaay ... Well, that was it. I was in bed, then I was here. That’s it! This is a dream, isn’t it?”
She sounded so happy by the thought that I felt like a bit of an ass when I said, “Sorry, I don’t think it is.”
I grimaced and shook my head. “I’m sorry, Ash. I’ve been here longer than you have. Everything I’ve seen and done makes me think this is real.” I told her about my tests on the cylinder and my earlier encounter with the Toadian.
“That all sounds like a dream to me!” she insisted.
“You really expect me to believe that if you were having this sort of dream, that it would be me here instead of Jackson?” I demanded. Jackson Warzohoa was a senior, and current captain of the football team. He also happened to be Eve’s boyfriend, at least according to the grapevine. I’d really never confirmed it one way or the other. Our social circles had about as much overlap as Mercury’s orbit had with Pluto’s.
Eve turned away and mumbled something under her breath. It was too low and too fast for me to really hear what she was saying, but I could have sworn that I heard the word ‘Doctor’. What the Hell did doctors have to do with any of this? “What did you say?”
“I said you’re right, this isn’t a dream,” she answered fairly bitterly. “So what should we do next?”
“I think we should get some sleep. I’ve been at this for God knows how long, and it sounds like you just got yanked out of it. We can see what happens tomorrow.” I started to pull my arm out from under her shoulders, but Eve only snuggled up closer and threw her arm over my chest.
“No, stay. I don’t want to be alone.”
‘And I need to go make a masterpiece.’ My cock ached in agreement, but my brain still had enough control to keep the words from coming out of my mouth. Instead I said, “Okay,” and settled back into the bed. I managed to get a fist full of blanket with the hand that she was laying on and tossed it up and over, allowing me to fold the blanket over the two of us. It actually hid Eve entirely from sight, but I could still feel the rise and fall of her chest and the nervous stroke of her fingers on my skin as I stared up at the ceiling. Having her so close kept me keyed up, and the need to jerk off was driving
me insane. Eventually, however, her breathing slowed and the fingers stilled. My erection wilted as my brain finally managed to get through to my cock that no, nothing was going to happen.
As if it knew the day was done, the room fell into darkness.
Motion pulled me out of my sleep sometime later. How much time had passed was impossible to tell. The room was heavily shadowed, what my Scout Master had always referred to as ‘before nautical twilight’. It Light enough that you could see objects and movement, dark enough that you couldn’t tell a white thread from a black.
I’d fallen asleep on my back with Eve tucked against my side, but somewhere along the line we had ended up shifting our positions, so that I was on my side with her stretched in front of me, my arm draped over her side. The tips of my fingers brushed against the under curve of her breast with each breath we took, but that wasn’t had woke me up. No, that was because she was grinding against my crotch.
My cock twitched involuntarily as her hips rolled against me. Somewhere along the lines I had gotten hard again, and the head of my prick had slipped between her thighs to press against her pussy. I didn’t know what she was dreaming about, but it must have been something good. I could feel the heat of her sex pulsing against the tip of my cock, and her labia were already wet and open in invitation. My breath caught in the back of my throat as she pushed backwards and nearly impaled herself, would have, really, if she weren’t so tight that I couldn’t actually get inside of her. Instead my cock sort of bounced off and rubbed across the entrance to her cunt.
My teeth clamped down on my lower lip and I forced myself to breathe through my nose as I struggled not moan in frustration. Every instinct I had was begging me to just grab her by the hips, roll her onto her stomach and plow into her. Every moral fiber I had was fraying as I tried to ignore my instincts. I remembered the friendship we’d had, the way she had smiled at me when we played together, and the comfort she had taken when I’d been holding her earlier. The situation we were in was already bad enough. It didn’t need me becoming some sort of sexual predator added into the mix. But God did I want to.
And sometimes God gives us our prayers.
Something about my breathing or the way I must have been holding her must have changed, because Eve froze and whispered, “Adam?”
“Yeah,” I croaked.
Her leg shifted, rising and bending back so that it was being held up by mine. “Put it in me. Please.”
“Are ... are you sure?”
I shifted my hips, sliding a little further down the bed so that I was angled up towards her. I tipped my leg up, spreading her more open, but I couldn’t see what I was doing and my attempts to thrust into her all failed miserably. I felt her fingers fumbling around the head of my cock as she tried to steer me into position. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of struggling that was really only a few seconds, she managed to get me properly lined up. Our voices joined in a sigh of relief as the mushroom shaped head of my prick pushed into her slick tunnel.
For a moment my world was lost in the blissful mix of tight heat. Luckily my body knew what to do next. I began to thrust into her with short, steady strokes. The angle was all wrong for deep penetration, but that just meant her cunt squeezed all the tighter to make sure I couldn’t fall out. My hands groped for her breasts, my fingers pinching and rolling as they discovered the hard points of her nipples. I must have been doing something right, as Eve gasped, “Adam!”
Her body trembled in my arms, but this time it was my turn to pin her in place. She managed to slip a hand between her legs and every so often her fingers would collide with my shaft as she stroked her clit. Her pussy walls fluttered around the tip of my cock, making me see stars. I tried to go deeper, to reach the very core of her being, but couldn’t.
“Fuck me,” Eve moaned as her hips started rocking back against me. It earned us maybe another quarter inch, but no more. She moaned again, this time with frustration. “Oh God, Adam, please, fuck me!”
There was as wet pop as I pulled my cock out of her dripping cunt, and Eve let out a disappointed whine as she felt me withdraw. It was only for a moment, however. I pushed her onto her back as I swung her leg in front of me. That put me above her, and this time I could see what I was aiming for. My shaft was slick with her juices and I dared not stroke it lest I came too early. My arms pushed her legs together and folded them back against her tits as I shoved my cock back into her, not stopping until I’d buried myself to the hilt. Then it was on.
“Unh, unh, unh-!” Eve couldn’t do anything more than grunt as my cock pounded in and out of her tight pussy. My hands dug into the bed and my toes flexed against the blanket as my hips looked for every last joule of torque. Her tits bounced all over the place as the bed’s springs groaned in protest, then they were bouncing against my chest as our lips sealed together and we took turns sucking the air out of the others lungs. It felt like the room had grew ten times hotter with each passing second and I felt my sack tighten as the finale drew near.
“Gunna come,” I managed to gasp. “Can’t hold it, gunna come!”
Eve’s only response was to nod enthusiastically and wrap her legs around my waist, pulling me down, pulling me deeper. A fresh burst of her juices soaked the base of my cock as I bottomed out inside of her and then I was done. Jizz came pumping out of me in one long, trembling squirt. Everything I’d kept bottled up flooded into her womb, racing off to look for the nearest egg to fertilize. For a moment I forgot to breathe, and I nearly ended up collapsing on top of her. I had just enough energy to teeter sideways instead, collapsing face down into a smothering pillow.
Laughing, Eve pushed me over so that I was on my back. A stray bit of hair had fallen across her eyes, which she pushed out of the way before bending down to give me a much more gentle kiss than the fevered lip locks we’d been engaged in moments before. “Thank you.”
“For what?” I geezed. It wasn’t quite a gasp, it wasn’t quite a wheeze. It was definitely a geeze.
“For being you,” she replied as she snuggled up against me once more. I managed to plop an arm around her shoulders, but that was about all I had the energy for. It was a very simple answer, but it hadn’t really answered my question. Though the more I thought about it, the more I realized it didn’t matter very much. She wasn’t just not freaking out. She was actually happy. Not just that we’d had sex, but that it was me who was trapped with her. That happiness was the only truly important thing. Anything else I figured we could deal with when it happened.
Maybe being stuck in a Skinner Box wouldn’t be so bad, after all.