Continuous pulses rippled through the oozing folds of my hungry quim. The Sybian2400’s pleasure waves, on my favourite intermittent setting, had already wracked my body and wrecked my g-spot.
Greedily going for more; the dildo hunted and corralled another round of delicious cums. My morning ritual, an hour-long cum-fest, now made extraordinary by the newly released, ‘dildo for the twenty-fifth millennium.’
Lying back having temporarily satiated that needy quim, I ‘heard’ a silent word image in my mind, “Ave, Annie.”
“Jeez, can’t a person get any privacy.”
They laughed, adding, “Privacy! So delightfully old-fashioned. Open access, networked minds build a better future.”
“Ave, Bruce; the pleasure is mine,” I replied, politer for having realised that I was in telepathic congress with one of the Elders, the Council that had guided us this past century since we consigned nationhood to the dustbin of history.
“Kins-person,” Bruce replied, formally recognising the blood of the Great Southern Land that flowed through both our veins.
“Kins-person.”
“Of late, Annie, the Council of Elders has been measuring orgasmic intensity.”
Unfortunately, the thought suppression chip in my brain wasn’t on a high enough setting, so Bruce perceived the word ‘perverts!’ as it ran through my consciousness.
“Scientific research Annie! Though not without its pleasures. Tell me, what would you say if I said sixty-nine to you?”
“Other than I didn’t know you were an aficionado of twentieth-century grubby innuendo, you mean?”
If a thought pattern could smirk, Bruce’s did. “Perhaps it is as well you are a student of that period, Annie. However, sixty-ninth is where you placed on the leader board of orgasmic intensity.”
“By a kins-person?”
“No Annie, the entire world. Well, that isn’t quite accurate. Can I ask your indulgence to use a gendered word?”
“Ave, Bruce, I recognise your wisdom.”
“Well in days gone by I would have said the sixty-ninth most intense orgasm by a woman.”
“What! You’re only measuring orgasms of part of the population. Surely that’s illegal?”
“Well yes, but the Council of Elders has given itself a dispensation. Special circumstances pertain to what we are measuring.”
“Oh,” I said, actually none the wiser.
And none the wiser was a state Bruce seemed determined to keep me in. All I really gleaned was that I was expected at the teleporter the next morning and all would be revealed then.
Having materialized from my quantum entanglement, God knows where, I checked the mirror. Other than mascara molecules which couldn’t be bothered to recombine as attractively as they certainly were before I teleported, I looked and felt just like I did before beaming off.
The directions to my room appeared in my mind. There I was stunned to find a window, only the third time in my twenty-three years hovering above the planet that I had actually seen outside.
The sun glowed in vivid shades of magenta through the orange-tinged sky. A squall of acid rain on the horizon sparkled with a gorgeous rainbow. The pretty deep blue-green colour of the steaming lake my room overlooked reflected the algal bloom. There is beauty outside nowadays, I thought to myself, though defenestration was out of the question. I couldn’t survive out there without sophisticated protective equipment.
Not that going outside was on my bucket list. The ‘Better to Cum than Run’ movement that gained ground politically in the twenty-second century, had promoted sex with a religious zeal, convincingly arguing that being outside was an unnecessary extravagance that took time away from fucking. And despite the historian in me knowing what Marx, Karl not Groucho, had said about religion being the opium of the people, I, like everyone else, had no qualms about staying in and embracing the joy of sex.
But I couldn’t tarry admiring the view, due as I was in a conference room within ten minutes. Arriving there, I found myself in a milieu of nakedness, for clothes were rarely necessary given the now perfect air-conditioning.
Amazingly, the Council of Elders were present, seated at the front of what I knew, my research having focused on the hundred years after World War Two, used to be called, before everything went digital, a lecture hall. And close to one-hundred persons who would have been called, at that time, women were searching for their assigned seats.
I found the seat numbered sixty-nine, between a stunningly pretty blond sitting on the seat numbered one, and a nerdy dark-haired hottie on the seat numbered seven. I was in the company of cummers.
Settling down, I heard, yes actually heard, Bruce say, “There are five yet to arrive.”
“I refuse to cast my pearls before insufficient swine,” the Great Leader replied; that witticism not distracting Bruce from his laser-like stare in my direction.
I, however, was distracted by the blond embodiment of lust on my left. “Ave, Annie.”
Though her thought suppression setting was on high, I was still able to perceive basic details. “Ave, Maria,” I replied, unable to keep a note of informality from creeping into my thoughts.
Maria stared at me blankly, but I heard an audible giggle from my other side. I turned to the dark-haired hottie who looked adorable in what used to be called John Lennon glasses, above which genetically engineered eyebrows fluttered. It had been over two-hundred years since glasses had been needed for vision, so that was their look and a gorgeous one it was.
As their thought suppression setting for me was quite low, I respectfully turned mine down, and immediately perceived that we had had the same thought about blonds.
“Ave, Annie.”
“Ave, Eve.”
“Kins-person.”
“Kins-person. Just us two here from the Great Southern Land.”
“Oh, I am flattered, not everyone thinks I look smoking hot in these glasses.”
“And not everyone likes my nipple tattoos as much as you.”
Eve and my getting to know each other was interrupted by the late comers’ arrival. I bristled when I saw the scarves they wore, fucking in-Groupies. The innie sorority thought themselves exclusive given the shape of their vagina. Now, of course, it’s a person’s right to choose, but, for God’s sake, genital prejudices! Like Marx, Groucho not Karl, I wasn’t joining that club, even though they would actually have had me as a member.
As I perceived Eve’s mind searching databases for Groucho Marx, I watched in amazement as the newbies flipped the bird to a member of the Council of Elders, namely Pamela, the only innie on the Council and the one who signed the order that banned cosmetic labiaplasties.
Wanting to be supportive, I called out, “Ave, Pamela.”
And was rewarded with an encouraging smile from Bruce offset by a death stare from the in-Groupies. I broke that stare when I felt the featherlight touch of Eve’s fingernail on my inner thigh. “Thanks for taking a stand,” she whispered.
Facing Eve, the frisson of excitement from the minx’s fingers as they inexorably slid towards my now damp quim, had me sucking my bottom lip. Sometimes you just know you are heading for fuck-buddy heaven, but the moment I had that thought was the moment I was alerted that Eve and I might be off to somewhere else.
For a programme in my brain had pinged, the first time I had had that notification. And given her surprise, a first for Eve too.
If someone from twenty-twenty turned up in the modern world, the thing that would surprise them most is that love is not a matter of the heart but the head. The most sophisticated computer programme ever written, compulsory nowadays for everyone to have in their brain, could within a minute tell you whether you were in love or just imagining it.
Of course, you could fuck anyone you liked, but the Council of Elders had decreed that you had to score at least nine out of ten to be in a relationship and above nine and a half to have children. No one had been prepared to take the risk of falling in love in a century, science could tell us all we needed to know about the realm of Eros.
And that programme had pinned for me and Eve. Knowing the significance, we stared into each other’s eyes, turned off our thought suppression, and let the programme link everything that had crossed our minds since birth. A minute passed, then another as the programme chose to run a second time, before we got the results.
Ten! Eve and I were as deeply in love as any couple had ever been.
Our love-in was interrupted by Bruce’s word image. “What did you score?”
“Fuck,” he said, having realized Eve and I were only the fifteenth perfect score in the last century.
“Not now, Bruce; Eve and I best wait till after the Great Leader’s speech.”
Eve laughed. Bruce, a tad rudely I thought, said, “I admire you, Eve, putting up with Annie jokes.”
With everyone settled and Eve and I holding hands, the Great Leader approached the podium.
“No one to date has found the secret of time travel, although, ironically, most have got close to touching it,” they began. “Today I am pleased to tell you we have unravelled physics’ greatest complexity. And you, the Hundred, you are a key part of what will be humankind’s greatest adventure.”
“Ladies,” they continued to an audible intake of shocked breath at the use of a gender-specific term, “Time travel is powered through the sexual energy produced from g-spots and g-spots alone. When harvested by the newly invented time-transformer dildo, we, or more accurately you, can bend the fabric of space and time. I’m not sure anyone really wants to spend long on a detailed explanation of how the dildo actually bends time.”
The audible sigh of disappointment from the love of my life suggested the Great Leader had that one terribly wrong.
They then stunned me by saying, “Ave, Annie; Bruce has told me just how impressive you are and today I saw that for myself.”
I blushed a little and Eve squeezed my hand affectionately.
“For you see, Annie,” the Great Leader continued, “You, I and even the in-Groupies owe a huge debt of gratitude to Pamela. For she undertook the first time-jump despite not knowing whether her sexual energy was strong enough to power a return.
“But return from the future she did and was able to tell the Council of Elders what was in store for us. After a prolonged period of physiological counselling, the Elders determined that that future state was best avoided and hence we come to you, the hundred most intense female cummers in the world.
“What we have planned, is a series of exploratory time jumps, one by each of you. The powerful sexual energy from your g-spot will allow you to bend the fabric of space and time and test how sensitive the future is to changes in the past.”
When the Great leader finished, Eve scurried down to the front keen to discuss the mechanics of time travel. Knowing I wouldn’t have her attention for a while, I joined the queue to book my time jump spot.
“I saved one for you, Annie,” Bruce said, “Dallas, late November 1963.”
Eve rushed into what had been my room but was now our room, full of the time-dilation effect of special relativity and the way sexual energy had mass that didn’t grow to unbounded levels thereby allowing one to masturbate into the mouth of a wormhole.
Frankly, much of that went over my head, but I smirked when she said wormhole. “There’s another hole I would like to worm into, Eve.”
“Only one babe? Physics doesn’t turn me on as much as you,” Eve said with the sexiest giggle, spreading her legs, her quim glistening.
In the old days, first times must have been filled with uncertainty. But here I was about to fuck Eve for the first time, literally knowing everything there was to know about her. So, when Eve added, seductively, “Want to taste me, Annie?” our mind-meld had even told me she preferred a tongue to circle her clit anticlockwise.
“You’re so naughty,” I said
“You know I am and I know you love it.”
With a smirk, I crawled, cat-like, onto the bed, inhaling the aroma of her arousal. Dipping my head, eyes locked on hers, I rasped my tongue across her rosebud and through the wet folds of her quim before flicking her clit and smearing it in her honey. A steady diet of virtual sex is great but nothing beats the taste of a real quim, I thought, as her juices exploded on my taste buds.
As my tongue circled her clit clockwise, Eve giggled adorably and said, “You fucking tease, do it properly.”
So, my tongue changed direction and circled anticlockwise. Eve held my head in her hands and moaned as she ground her quim on my face. Two fingers pressed into her wet opening, my knuckles stretching her velvet walls. Finger fucking her and suckling her clit quickly brought her to the edge. Her hips arched and she pressed her quim against my lips as she exploded in orgasm.
“Well done, you two,” ‘said’ Bruce’s silent word image, “That takes Eve up to second on the orgasm intensity list.”
“No privacy here, babe,” I proudly said, as I lowered my quim onto Eve’s pretty face. Her tongue probed my folds before she sucked them into her mouth. Grinding, my quim oozed onto her face. Then I screamed in ecstasy as she sucked my clit into her mouth.
I was on the edge of something big, and when her finger ran across my rosebud, big arrived. I gushed honey as a supercharged orgasm flooded my senses.
“Even better,” ‘said’ Bruce, “That puts Annie into the top ten.”
After snuggling for a while, Eve and I kissed for ages before I rolled on top of her and pressed my quim against hers. Tongues swirling, nipples rubbing, I slowly rotated my quim into her folds. Sliding, then slapping, juices mixing, our eyes locked as we ground and let our orgasms build in tandem.
Making love, totally connected, we teetered for the longest time and then exploded as we were consumed by massive orgasms.
“Well, Bruce?” I ‘asked.’ But, for once, there was no reply.
The next morning, having dressed me in a yellow rose Texas Shirtwaist Dress, with knickers holding the time-dildo into my damp quim, Bruce set the destination time.
The dildo operated like dildos have for millennia until powered up by my second orgasm. Like all dematerialization processes, when Bruce threw the time jump switch, from his perspective, I disappeared.
Jumps in three dimensions are pretty well instantaneous. Not so in four, and my sexual energy bent the space time continuum as I continually masturbated my way through time. Eventually, I found myself on a grassy knoll in Dallas in the swinging sixties.