Chapter 2: The Surface

D-Day

"Are you ready to go?" Randall asks.

"Ready as I'll ever be, I guess," I answer hesitantly, already having second thoughts about accepting the mission.

We stand on the planet's surface, almost 800 kilometers from the nearest Longton village. We stand at the top of a sand dune with only the glow of the two moons and a thousand stars to light our way. Already we receive our first taste of the Longton heat, for the temperature still hovers at around 40oC, even after the sun has set. I already feel perspiration on my brow and taste the salt my own sweat in my mouth. Thinking ahead towards the next few days, I dread the thought of the sun beating down on us.

The sand shifts below my sandals and scratches between my toes. All I see around me is sand; dune after dune of shifting sand. The nearest tree, I know, is about a hundred kilometers away. It is like the Sahara Desert on Earth, but even the Sahara is nothing compared to this. We stand on the edge of the vast equatorial desert that is a thousand times bigger than the Sahara.

Next to us sits our mode of transportation. It looks something like a jeep or maybe a go-cart designed for desert travel. It is an open-air vehicle with no roof and only the bare minimum of a frame to hold it together. Our supplies are already tied securely down in the rear: food, clothing, radio, a little tent, and certainly plenty of water. The two seats positioned in front look too small to carry a grown human. The contraption looks more like a toy a young teenager might play with on a dead end street than a serious vehicle to get us safely across hundreds of kilometers of dangerous dessert.

Behind us, down between the gullies of two large sand dunes, sits the shuttle that bought us down to the surface. We purposely landed it in a low place to keep it safe and out of sight from the rare desert traveler. I do not plan to see it again for at least a week.

"We better get going," Randall appears anxious, standing next to the jeep. "Best we go as far as we can before sunrise."

I agree, naturally. We are allowed to travel in the jeep only at night to keep out of sight.

And then Randall adds, much to my dismay. "You realize, of course, from this point on we're not supposed to wear any Earth-based clothing."

I notice him look at me, and I distinctly notice him look mostly at my chest. Now I know why he is anxious. It isn't to travel; he is anxious to see what will pop out behind my loose fitting blouse. All men like a big set of tits.

I do not feel nearly as anxious as he does. "Don't worry," I comfort him. "I'll take it off when we leave the vehicle."

Randall shakes his head. "You know the rules. Captain Rileymen's instructions were clear. From this point on."

He already wears his Longton clothing. It reminds me of those little Indian outfits worn in old Western movies. A rubber flap comes down in front and another in the rear. His thighs remain nearly bare with a thin string that goes around his waist. I have to admit, his fit body certainly looks sexy in it.

I know the rules. I'm supposed to change into my Longton clothing too, but can't bring myself to do it. "Can't we fudge a little?" I try to back out. "I mean, what's the harm?"

"Listen," He speaks in a rare moment of sympathy. "I know it will be embarrassing, but it doesn't make any difference. Now or later, the result will be the same. You might as well get it over with. We can't have you walking around all bashful and embarrassed when we meet the first Longtons."

This is true. I even thought it a good idea when he first proposed we get accustomed to the Longton clothing as early as possible, but now I feel some serious objections.

"All right!" I take a deep breath and accept the inevitable.

I turn away to unbutton my blouse. Underneath, I wear the most conservative of the three outfits commonly worn by the Longton women. The "outfit" is what I nickname the string bikini back at the lab. True to its name, it is constructed mostly out of string. One goes around my neck and the other ties behind my back. The only fabric covering my extra large pair of boobs is two white, triangular-shaped cups. Looking down upon myself, I see they do a bare-minimum job of covering. It looks as though I wear a bikini sized for a B cup girl on a set of double-D cupped boobs.

I toss the blouse aside and lower my shorts. A sigh comes from the jeep to remind me of my ass. The rear of the bikini panty is little more than a thong that runs up my behind. The front is a small triangle of white fabric that thankfully covers everything of importance, but just barely too.

I have never worn such a small bikini before. In fact, I have never worn a bikini at all. My large breasts and wholesome Northern Minnesota upbringing bestowed me with conservative values. I was always taught that naughty girls wore bikinis and good girls wore one-piece bathing suits.

Reluctantly, I take a deep breath and turn around.

"Wow!" Randall amplifies my embarrassment.

"Please!" I instinctively cry out, and than quickly try to cover my chest with my hands. "Can't you be a little more discrete about it?"

"Sorry, but it was just a natural reaction!" He tries to apologize.

It is dark and I know he can't see me very well, but his reaction and the look in his eyes tells me everything I need to know. This will be a very long trip.

"It's just that you look so much different," I think he tries to apologize. "I mean you usually dress so professionally, but now..."

His words trail off, but I know what he means.

"Let's just get going," I try to push things along.

The vehicle feels as small as it looks. I am forced to press up tight against him when I sit down in the little seat. The bare skin of my thigh squeezes up against the bare skin of his.

"You ready?" He asks.

I notice the lights on the simple dashboard. They do not shine bright, but in combination with the headlights they give him additional light to see me by.

"Let's go," I accept.

"You might want to hold on for safety," He tells me, his eyes referring down to my hands. Both of them still cover my chest. "It might get bumpy. I don't want you to fall out and get injured."

"I'm just fine," I refuse. "Let's get going."

The little jeep takes off. It goes surprisingly fast considering its small size. I suppose the weaker gravity helps move it along. We go up one drift of sand and then down the next. Ahead lay more dunes, and then even more. We drive on and on with the rear wheels kicking up sand and the jeep bumping from the occasional rock.

"Be careful," I warn him as we are forced to attack a particularly steep dune at an angle.

"I told you to hang on," He argues and does not appear to slow. "At least use one of your hands to hold on."

I know he is right. I hate it when he is right all the time. The last week's worth of training taught me that he is often right. I found Randall to be smart and a quick learner, well chosen for the mission. It seems I only had to tell him once, and he remembered everything I said, especially impressive was the way he learned the Longton language. I still know it far better than he does, I think he learned more in the last 5 days than I learned in my first 5 months.

Knowing I might as well get it over with, I lower both arms and hold on. My right takes hold of the railing and the left squeezes between us and takes hold of the seat. Immediately, I feel Randall's eyes upon me. I know he has been looking at me all week long. Back in the lab his eyes seemed to roam down to my blouse at every chance they got. It felt embarrassing before, but now...

Now, I don't know what to feel. I continue to feel embarrassed, but I also notice a tingle of excitement in the air. I have this erotic sensation that I sit next to him topless, which is close to the truth. I feel as though I am a voyeur strutting my stuff.

I suppose it is inevitable that he look. I am so close, right next to him, and I am so big and so exposed. My left boob almost touches his right arm. I feel a brief temptation to chastise him, but I know it will be to no avail. I take a deep breath, knowing I must bear it.

I try to let my mind wonder, but it is difficult in this bleak landscape. Up one dune and down the next, the headlights of our little jeep illuminate nothing but sand before us. It seems to lack power, but keeps up its ever-constant push. The motor moans as we travel up a dune, and then whines as we coast back down the opposite side. At the same time we slow going up the hills, and then accelerate as we travel back down again. Moan and whine. Slow and accelerate. The same motion over and over again. It is no wonder the Longtons live only in the Northern Hemisphere. They have yet to discover the equal landmass in the south. Even a technologically advanced civilization would have trouble crossing this desert. It would be impossible for a Longton man traveling on foot or even with a great beast of burden.

We travel for a few kilometers more before I notice it. It happens when I look over to the instruments to check our heading. I am afraid Randall might be paying more attention to my bust than the proper heading, but the dial continues to read straight North. This makes me momentarily think he stopped glancing over to my sparsely clad chest, but then I notice it. The dim lights of the dashboard illuminates it. I do not know if he sees it too, but I notice a clear and very distinct bulge pushing up his loincloth.

It shocks me at first. I think I might be seeing things, but then I casually allow my eyes to lower, and I see it again. The front flap of his Indian-like loincloth lifts up and pushes away from his body. It is clearly noticeable. I think I can even see the outline of a pole beneath it.

I take a hard swallow, not knowing what to say or what to do about it, but then figure it best not to say or do anything. Randall does not appear to notice it himself, although I know he must feel it. He is clearly very aroused and very hard. He is at a full erection. Even better, he does nothing to cover himself. His hands remain on the steering wheel. He continues to drive the jeep, as he must. I am left free to admire him for as long as I want.

And I do admire it! As we continue driving, my head remains pointed straight ahead but my eyes look right at it. It feels good to have the tables turned. It feels exhilarating, even a little thrilling, knowing what my big boobs and my tiny bikini are doing to him. It even makes me feel a little aroused - I have to admit. I think of the male stalk only a short distance away.

I like cocks, but not just any ordinary cock. The pictures of naked men in the centerfolds of Playgirl never thrilled me very much. I will never forget, however, the first time I saw a picture of an erection. It was in my freshman year of High School. I had just transferred from a pale parochial grade school when one of my newly made girlfriends showed it to me on a library computer. I thought it the most amazing thing I had ever seen. It looked so big! And it looked so long! The thing looked like a monster, like it was about to attack me. From then on, I always got horny when I saw an erect cock.

Then I think about why he is aroused. Obviously, he must be having nasty thoughts about me. He fantasizes about me. As he drives, his eyes must roam over to my boobs. This makes me wonder what is going through his mind: "Is he squeezing my boobs in his thoughts?" I ask to myself. "Is he reaching over and lowering my top? Is he playing with my tits or perhaps imagining himself teasing my nipples?" To my surprise, this both scares and delights me. In a strange sort of way, I find myself wishing I was topless and he was massaging me. Despite Randall's ego and his subservient attitude towards women, I have to admit he is a very handsome young man.

Even better, Randall looks to be of impressive size. I can tell by the bulge he makes. It looks to be substantial, although it is difficult to tell in the weak lights of the dashboard. I more properly need to see him in the headlights. Or even better, I need to take a look at him underneath. It would not be difficult to do. My hand is already so close, grasping hold of the seat between us. All I need to do is reach over and lift the little flap.

I chastise myself. I think about what I am doing and can't believe my own thoughts. I scolded him earlier for looking at my chest, and now I repeat the same sin with his cock. I am no better than he is, observing the opposite sex not as an equal but as a sex object.

I try to move on to something else and erase the thought out of my mind, but the task proves more difficult than I anticipate. Randall further complicates matters by keeping his bulge. I don't know when it started, but I know it has been several minutes since I first noticed it. He has remained hard and erect now for the past ten minutes, which makes me wonder how far along his fantasy has progressed. "Am I naked yet?" I question to myself. "Is he now fantasizing what it will feel like to reach over and lower my panty? Is he now imagining himself playing with my sex too?"

The thought makes me squirm in my seat. Randall looks over, but I simply ignore him. No words have been exchanged between us since we left, but I don't mind. I don't feel like talking.

As I wonder about his fantasy, I begin to experience my own. It is my standard fantasy, the one I get whenever I see a particularly handsome young gentleman sitting on the opposite side of the dinner table or down at the end of the bar. It starts with the guy standing at the foot of my bed where I order him to strip. In my fantasy, naturally, he obeys. He removes one article of clothing and then another, until he stands before me in only a tiny bikini panty or perhaps one of those fishnet briefs. In either case, I order him to remove this last piece of clothing too, and soon he stands nude - absolutely nude. I picture Randall standing at the foot of my bed, totally naked without a single stitch of clothing anywhere on his body.

The covers of the bed are drawn, but now I pull them back to display a sexy little Teddy that does a superb job at showing off my sizable breasts. This naturally makes the man aroused, and I now picture Randall developing an erection. I watch from the bed as it grows from a tiny dick into the monster I know must be hidden underneath his loincloth. I picture Randall with a big, long, perhaps an 8-inch organ standing upright and at attention. I see him standing at the foot of my bed, motionless and obedient, allowing me to look as much as I want, waiting for my next command.

Then I fantasize myself ordering him to turn around with a single hand. I say nothing. I just use my fingers to have him turn so I can first have a look at his cock from the side and then take a good look at his ass in the rear. I admire his naked body all over, and then I motion him to come closer. He does so, and in my fantasy the big man soon stands at the side of my bed with his big cock within my easy reach.

The fantasy continues when I take advantage of the opportunity and begin to play with his cock like it is my toy. I imagine what it will feel like to touch Randall's hard organ and feel up his entire length...

"You getting tired?"

A question interrupts my fantasy. I realize I am looking down, starring straight down at his waist. I realize I have my head bowed, which Randall must have assumed to mean I was tired.

"No, I'm okay," I first answer and then decide to play along. "Well, not too tired. Just taking a rest for a moment."

"We're almost at our first stop," He tells me. "The map shows it should be just up ahead."

I look to see a dark outline against the stars above. I know it is the outline of trees from an oasis. It is not hard to find an oasis at this high northerly latitude. Springs bubble up out of the ground every few dozen kilometers. Around them blossom a forest of trees and bushes.

The headlights of the jeep illuminate green vegetation as we travel over the summit of the next sand dune.

"You better slow down," I warn, seeing we are going downhill at full speed. "I think this is it."

Just as I say it, the ride suddenly turns rough. We drive into a pile of rocks. The wheels of the jeep are unable to stay on the ground. It is like hitting a stretch of potholed asphalt.

"Slow down!" I say again, this time more forcefully as I feel my body lift completely out of the seat and then come crashing back down.

"I'm trying!" Randall counters. "Damn brakes!"

We slow, but not before hitting several more rocks and then the protruding root of a tree. Another large jolt hits the jeep. My body again leaves the seat. It is large enough to fear my boobs might have left their protective covering. I look down to check, and then look over to see Randall check too. I see he has taken advantage of the situation and looks at my bouncing chest.

"The road!" I remind him. "Keep your eyes on the road."

I can't believe he is looking at my bouncing boobs instead of the road in front of us. I realize what he has just witnessed and start to feel embarrassed.

"Sorry, but that was the first time I had to use the breaks," He tells me as the jeep eventually slows and he weaves it between the trees. We drive closer to the source of the oasis: A small pond of water formed by a seeping spring from below. Before the jeep has a chance to come to a stop, I jump out and head for the water.

It feels good on my face when I kneel down and splash myself. The water is surprisingly cold. It is nearly freezing cold, in direct contrast to the hot temperature of everything else on this sizzling planet. I cup another handful of water and splash it onto my face.

"How is it?" Randall asks from somewhere close behind me.

"Great!" I keep splashing myself. "Cold! Feels like it must be coming up from a deep spring."

"You know you can jump in if you want," I hear him step past me. "There's nothing in these waters that can hurt you."

It sounds great, but the idea of walking into a strange body of water in the dead of night scares me. Luckily, Randall takes the lead. Instead of stopping at the shoreline, he walks right in. He walks into the water as though it is no more than a friendly fishing pond back on Earth.

I already wear the equivalent of a swimsuit, so a swim is an easy matter. I follow, but the water is too cold; surprisingly cold. It is cold enough to prevent me from jumping in all at once. I find myself having to step in slow and leisurely allow my body to get accustomed to the drastic change in temperature. Randall already stands in the middle, deepest part of the little pond. I can't help but feel disappointed at what I know the cold water will do to his swollen member.

The water is pure, and my body feels dirty all over. I feel like a thin layer of grime from the open-air vehicle covers me from head to foot.

The pond is not very deep. Even in the center, the water only comes up to my waist. I am forced to go down to my knees in order to cover myself up to the neck, and then bow my head down lower to wash my sand-encrusted hair. The pond is also small, only about the size of a large swimming pool, but this is normal for such southerly latitudes. Later, as we travel further north, the ponds will grow into lakes. Oasis will grow into forests.

"We better get going again," Randall suggests after what seems like only a minute. "We have a schedule to keep you know."

I know well enough, but I do not want to leave. The water feels refreshing. It is like a relaxing evening bath after a long day at work, but I also know we have a long way to go yet. It has only reached midnight. We are supposed to drive another 5 hours before stopping for daylight.

I follow Randall and step out of the water into the sizzling night air. We step into the lights of the jeep where I can see him clearly. His bare thighs look terrific. His whole body makes me hot.

As I look at him, a mischievous idea comes to mind. It is a naughty, sneaky, mischievous little idea; but I can't help but consider it when I think about his deflated member. I get the nasty idea of changing into the next iteration of Longton clothing. I think about the next, more provocative article of Longton clothing. The reason I want to change is equally naughty.

"I think I should," I say before I realize I have said it. "I suppose I might as well get accustomed to my new wardrobe, exactly as you said before."

This seems to take Randall by surprise. He steps back, almost as if in shock. It is as though he perhaps guesses at my real intent, but I have no way of knowing for sure.

"I'll just step over here behind a few trees to change," I tell him as I untie my pack from the back of the jeep.

I see him take a deep breath and then swallow before answering: "Whatever you're comfortable with."

The second piece of Longton clothing contains more fabric but is more erotic than the bikini. I call it the vertical swimsuit because it is composed mostly of two vertical strips of cloth that do a bare minimum job at covering my large breasts. Each rises from the panty and connects together with a snap behind my neck. Technically, it is a one-piece suite, but in reality it more closely resembles an erotic nightgown.

The two vertical strips of cloth both give the suit its name and make it so erotic. Because nothing goes around my chest in the horizontal direction, nothing is left to support my boobs. My tits are left free and natural. They swell out and make their plunge down from my chest just as though I wear no top at all. To make matters worse, and the strips of cloth are narrow enough to allow someone to examine me in great detail.

I know this new article of Longton clothing will make me look especially sexy when someone looks at me from the side, as I know Randall will have the opportunity to do in the jeep. It fills me with ecstasy, but it also fills me with trepidation. I look down upon myself to see my entire line of cleavage exposed down the center of my chest. If I had a mirror, I would even be able to see my own undercleavage. I grow with trepidation at the sight Randall will encounter. My only solace is Randall's assured reaction.

"Ready to go," I step out from behind the trees. Randall already sits in the jeep. He looks only briefly as I join him. I notice the feel of metal against my buns and back when I sit down, reminding me that my entire back lays exposed and a thong again rides up my rear.

"Figured I might as well get it over with," I confess to Randall as we again drive off in the jeep.

It does not take long. Although I do not see him look, I can tell that he does so by his reaction. This time I do not hold up my hands to cover myself. I allow him to look as much as he wants, and soon I notice his reaction. A bulge again rises from his shorts.

It looks as big and substantial as before. I can't help but think what I would like to do with it. I imagine myself reaching over and casually lifting the little flap of fabric to take a better look. I am tempted to look, but of course I do not. I am not that kind of girl. I must remain content with my imagination.

I attempt to remove his cock from my mind, but Randall again makes it difficult. His bulge remains. I try not to look, but every few minutes the temptation overcomes me. I move my eyes without moving my head. I take a glance over and see it continue. It continues for a long time, and it is difficult not to notice.

Up one sand dune and down the next. We continue on. The journey becomes monotonous, but my mind remains occupied. I can't get him out of my head.

The fantasy returns. I again imagine him standing at the foot of my bed while I order him to first disrobe and then to harden. In my mind, he stands within arm's length, and I am taking advantage of his closeness. My arm is outstretched and my hand his encompassed around him. I imagine myself holding his toy cock in my hand.

I start with small, short, deliberate strokes on the base of his member. I make him aroused, and then I use my hand to increase his arousal. Soon, I see the resulting evidence of my actions as drops of pre-cumm oozing out the tip of his cock. In response, I increase the speed of my pistoning motion yet further to witness his reaction even more. One of the best things I like about a man is the feel of his thick cock in my hand. By the look of the bulge under Randall's shorts, I am sure his will feel very fine.

Much later, after I judge him sufficiently lubricated and most likely dripping, I imagine myself stroking up and down on his entire length. I imagine holding my hand out to his member. I fantasize pumping it up and down. I think about pistoning the entire length of organ.

The fantasy turns more vivid as I imagine myself reaching for it now, reaching out my hand to the driver's seat. I imagine what it would be like to reach out right now and give him a slow, deliberate, and ever-constant stroking action.

I shake my head in an attempt to erase the fantasy out of my mind. This is not like me. Here I am sitting next to a man with a firm cock between his legs, and all I can think about is what a pleasure it would be to have sex with him. But not just any ordinary sexy, but kinky sex. If Randall only knew the thoughts in my mind! The thought makes me blush with embarrassment.

But then I realize he must be having equally vivid fantasies. He must be! There is no way he can remain hard without it. The realization makes me wonder what he is thinking. "Is he fantasizing about my boobs?" I ask myself. "Or maybe he is picturing me topless and trying to figure out what my hard nipples must look like." A hot wave of ecstasy travels through my body as I consider it. I find myself wanting to show him. I know he wants to see. He's had his eyes locked on my chest all week. I caught him several times during our lessons with his eyes firmly locked on my chest. I even caught him trying to look down my top when I bent over one day. His actions disgusted me then, but for some strange reason I find them exciting me now.

I shake my head again to get the thoughts out of my mind. It is not like me to have such fantasies about a man while I sit so close to him. My dreams usually come at night or in the early morning hours. They usually happen only after men are far away and I have time to think about it. But this is different. There is little else to think about.

"There's another oasis not far ahead," His voice interrupts my thoughts. "If you want, we can stop for dinner. It's getting to be about that time."

The clock on the dashboard reads 2:00 AM, Longton time. In reality, it is closer to 7:00 PM Earth time. We purposely landed with our bodies still on daylight hours to avoid falling asleep while driving through the Longton night. I failed to notice my hunger before, but the mention of dinner quickly reminds me that it is past my normal dinner hour.

"That sounds like a good idea," I agree. "I do feel awfully hungry."

A naughty idea fills my head. Randall looks at me with a look of shock on his face, and then he smiles. I am not sure, but I think he has read my mind. I think he understands the hidden meaning behind my words. I really do feel awfully hungry, like I said, but not just for food. I also feel hunger for his cock.

"I need a rest stop anyway," He quickly recovers. "I know it's still a couple hours before I should be feeling tired enough to go to bed, but all this driving can be really tiring on the body."

I can't help but think about how tiring it must be for all the blood to constantly flow down to his hard erection too.

"I can take over, if you want," I offer. "I mean after dinner, if you don't mind. I would like to take a turn behind the wheel of this thing too. It looks like fun."

"Are you sure you can?" He questions. "It's not as easy as it looks."

"Don't you think a woman can handle it?" I guess his thoughts. "I bet I've had a lot more experience driving this sort of vehicle than you. I used to drive around in little three-wheelers all the time as a kid. And besides, with the way you drove into the last oasis, it wouldn't take much to better you."

He shrugs his shoulders and refuses to respond. I know Randall does not like to be bettered by a woman, which only encourages me to tease him further. I notice the bulge in his shorts has diminished too. I must remember not to tease him too often.

We stop to eat dinner a few minutes later at the next oasis. The jeep is parked right up next to the life-giving water. The headlights remain on, and Randall hangs a lantern by the rollover bar. This gives him lots of light to see me by, but I really don't care anymore - especially after what I just experienced.

I have just walked back out of the water. Before we ate, both of us decided it better if we first washed and cooled ourselves down. I walked into the water almost as soon as he brought the jeep to a stop.

Pleasant to my delight, I discovered the pond at this oasis was both larger and deeper than the first. The water came up to my neck in the middle of the lake, which gave me the idea of unsnapping the rear hook and lowering my top. After all, there was no way he could see anything under the water. I did it to feel more comfortable and to better wash myself. I never expected what else it did.