Daymon
Copyright© 2025 by Bronte Follower
Chapter 4
Coming of Age Sex Story: Chapter 4 - Many authors have suggested effects of a skewed sex ratio (e.g., Planet Grayson, Honor Harrington opus, David Weber; A Brother's Price, Wen Spencer). This story is nothing at all like those. Daymon's life is ordinary until he is called to meet a Visitor. Is the gorgeous naked girl a figment of imagination? Daymon's planet has a ~20:1 female:male ratio, uses a metric clock (metric-timeDOTcom), and has an orbital period 1/8 longer than Earth's (ponder what that means for individuals' ages).
Caution: This Coming of Age Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Teenagers Consensual Fiction Science Fiction Incest Mother Son Oral Sex Safe Sex Teacher/Student
Edifice housing Daymon Strand
28 Argentis 1947, 03:02 local
Daymon woke when one of the women in bed with him moved to snuggle more tightly into him. He lay there, on his front, pondering his recent life, particularly about the past two days of lots and lots of oral sex in both directions with a pretty mother he’d loved before sex had been added to their relationship and the gorgeous naked girl who he was...
“What do I feel for her?”
He answered himself, “Lust, certainly, but it’s more than that. She’s so kind and beautiful and...”
“Yes. Yes. Of course, but my ... handler would almost have to have those qualities. I think.”
“Why can’t you feel love for her?”
“I don’t know, but couldn’t that be a trap? Wouldn’t that be a way for a handler to get someone to do her bidding?”
“Are you always so cynical in the morning?”
He chuckled softly to himself, a chuckle that woke the handler in question, and who got out a groggy, “What’s funny?”
Whispering virtually directly into her ear, he answered, “Me. I’m chuckling at myself.”
“About what?”
“Umm, this, I guess.”
“What about this?”
“How ... crazy, how ... unlikely this whole thing is. My week-ago self would think this is a crazy dream, although a dream he’d have relived and relived when ... he...”
“When he masturbated?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“What do you think about this masturbatory dream?”
“I hope I never wake if this is a dream.”
“What do you think are the ... three high points of this dream?”
“That’s an easy question for me: You, this, Mom.”
“What about your mom?”
“She’s always ... Well, there were times when I was young and thought she was not a stellar mom, but, I assume, most children have temporary thoughts like that.”
“I certainly did. Have you pondered those times from the past?”
“Yes, particularly recently ... Er, the pre-you recently, but even more after you ... entered my life. You’ve ... you and Mom have ... caused me to ... look ahead more, rather than behind.”
“Do you understand that looking behind is good, but doing so to excess, as in most things, is usually a bad sign?”
“What is excess? Isn’t it ... Doesn’t what ... is considered excess depend on the ... activity?”
“Most assuredly. The term can be considered to apply when the activity ceases being entirely positive. Masturbating to orgasm once or twice in a day is probably not excess. Doing so seven times probably is. Where the boundary falls between twice and seven times may well be an individual-and-situation-specific point, although I’d guess seven is probably excessive regardless of situation or individual. Seven is probably an indicator that something in that person’s life has gone wrong. Very wrong.”
The boy quietly responded, “I think I can see that.”
The two went quiet, presumably in thought, as Daymon lay on his chest, his head turned toward Miranda on her side snuggled tightly into him, but with the other woman in the bed snuggled into him on his other side.
She thought, “I wonder if he’s thinking about his mother or if he’s still pondering ‘excess,’ the word ... or our activities for the past few days. I can imagine some ... even many thinking that spending at least eight hours a day doing sex is excessive. But I have no real choice. I must get him to...”
A thought, a possibility struck her at that point, but despite there being no visibly detectible difference in her body and how it lay, Daymon lifted his head slightly and looked into her eyes.
“Space demon, he’s so ... tuned into me. Or ... Chance, maybe it was just chance.”
Daymon put paid to that hope when he softly asked her, “What’s wrong?”
“Noth ... It’s not nothing, but I drifted into thinking about my task. Will you let me lie here and think about options for today?”
“I thought you always knew, every second, what to do and how to do it.”
“Oh, Daymon, that is so far from actuality that I’m not sure I can see it from there. I’m not greatly different from any of a huge number of ... proto-women trying to find their way through their lives, attempting to plot a course as close as possible to the one the individual wants but without sacrificing too much.”