Monday, April 16, 2012
Friday, April 13, 2012
So, there’s a girl’s hand on my bare thigh and there’s nothing I can do about it. A horrible sense of naked vulnerability makes my groin tighten. I’m not wearing underwear beneath my Roman-style tunic. However, no matter how far up her hand goes, her long nails aren’t going to find my genitals.
I’m on Vesta - “Chastity Planet” - in the university city of Minerva. I’m at my first sorority party. Like every other male in the room, I’ve got a flesh-toned chastity cup nano-welded to my groin. Most of them are here for the cheap education. Me? I’m here for a girl. But not this girl.
“Hey, Annmarie,” I say. “Off. Out.”
A catlike grin forms on Annmarie’s round face. Her hand leaves my thigh and I know she’s fondling my groin cup. I can’t feel anything, but my lost penis goes wild, trying to heave itself upright. “What you going to do?” she says. ”Slap me?”
I blush. The discrete transparent collar about my throat stops me doing anything violent. The best I can do is try to shuffle away and close my legs.
Annmarie’s hand catches my knee. “Besides. I’m your date.”
I could still pull away - I’m not entirely helpless - but her fingers are strong and her nails are sharp; a reminder that men aren’t really protected from assault on this planet.
I glance around the room. Surely somebody will tell her to quit petting in public?
Thanks to the dress code, everybody’s wearing a unisex white tunic. It’s supposed to create a classical sense of tranquillity to go with the college’s columns and portico's. However, away from the College Wardens, everybody’s behaving as if it’s a toga party. There are bare legs everywhere, some smooth, some hairy. Nearby, a couple neck on the couch. His hand is running up and down her thigh. I get a glimpse of her pussy, dark lips behind a blond frizz. The girls don’t need underwear here, but only the men wear the cups.
Annmarie’s breath is hot on my ear. “You’ve been here a semester. That’s three months without an orgasm.” Her tongue teases my ear-hole, setting off a painful throb in my groin. “I have an orgasm every night.”
“Good for you,” I shoot back.
“Want to help me?” she purrs and I have a vision of her soft flesh undulating in the dark. Annmarie is built for sex, and suddenly I wish we were on a different planet with different rules. Mind you, she’d eat me alive.
“Not much in it for me, is there?” I say.
She tweaks my nipple through the tunic.
I bite back a whimper.
“More than you think,” says Annmarie. “I have this toy…” She laughs. “You come from a conservative world, don’t you? You’ve no idea what I’m talking about.”
But I’m not really listening to her. I’ve spotted Naima. My Naima.
I didn’t recognise her at first. Tall, blond, with long legs tapering down to her strappy sandals she looks coldy elegant. A million light years from the girl next door back home. Naima crosses her ankles as she talks and a vise seems to clench my groin.
Annmarie whistles under her breath. “Oh. I can’t compete with her. Is she why you wanted to come to the party?”
I nod mutely.
The buxom girl laughs. “She’s why you came to Vesta, isn’t she? You’re just a big soft romantic.”
My cheeks burn. “Girlfriend,” I mutter.
“Ex-girlfriend,”says Annmarie. “But go on. This should be interesting.” She gives me a shove.
I get to my feet. Chastity cup throbbing, I pick my way through the jumbled bodies. I’ve rehearsed this moment for so long, worked out all the ways the conversation could go. I want her to know that it’s OK that she’s not ready for sex, that it always was. But I don’t want her to think I’m here for her - that would be too much pressure.
Naima’s blue eyes twinkle. “Hello Brett,” she says. She looks me up and down.
Again I feel naked, naked and stupid. “Hi,” I say and blush again.
“We have unfinished business,” she says. She stoops a little, tilts her head and kisses me on the lips. Her hands catch the back of her neck and her tongue slides between my teeth. There’s a wet pulse in my groin, and I feel dizzy.
“Come upstairs,” she says.