"Sigh," I said aloud, sighing. That word had become something of a habit with me; it seemed preferable to the sighing on its own for some reason. I rose from the wooden table and pulled aside the flap that separated the tent's center room from Sheja's. The dim light from the center room diffused through the canvas walls, illuminating her. She looked so beautiful lying there, sleeping peacefully, the covers collected at the foot of the bed on so warm a night. Her Mephit body shifted slightly, her legs stretching a little. I wondered who occupied her dreams. Was it boys or girls, hominids or 'taurs, someone generic or someone specific? Did I occupy my daughter's dreams? Did his mother or Aaden?
She really had become a sweet young fem in her teenage years. Although my body was as healthy as hers, I felt older. There are more years on this chassis then there are on hers, at least in the head. I treasured her innocence and her purity. And her right to keep them, even if she sometimes seemed ready to trade them in on experience. I loved my children without question or qualm, and until she asked me to change the rules, I wasn't going to do more teach her with words and with pictures. The rest she would have to seek on her own.
As I stepped away and let the flap close, I noticed something shift in my pants; I had an erection from thinking about her. The line between integrity and corruption is called action, and I knew which side of that line I sat on. Sheja was untouchable until she told me otherwise. I reached down into my pants and grabbed my cock, feeling the skin of my palm close about the more sensitive flesh. Alone in the tent but for sleeping Sheja, I wondered what I was going to do with this sudden incident with solidity.
I wondered how P'nyssa was getting along right now. She and Zaid had been spending a lot of time together, and I hardly begrudged them that time. I liked Zaid a lot; she was an interesting woman, to say the least.
And Aaden had been spending nights in the field, doing etymological interfacing studies, finishing up the last of the studies before we packed up and went home. The replacement team was on its way. And Battia wasn't really all that upset to see us go. Actually, I bet he was spending some times with Tonni doing some of their own interfacing.
It's funny, but I don't resent the time they spend away from home. I think part of it's that they don't really have a "home" per se. I'm happy just when they're around, but I like to have a space to call my own, and I'm thousands of light years from Pendor and Alpha, and Aaden can't reach his office in Rhysh and P'nyssa's without hers at Cutters. We're making our own psychic spaces now, living on our own in many ways until we get home.
And like them I've got my own playmates. I could always call Lindsay. Or Olivia. I smiled and ticked off the names in my mind. Kathy. Trianna. Nishipo. Dao.
I stopped for a second. I mean, literally froze as I paced around the room. Only two males and four females? That seemed unlike me for some reason. Usually it's even numbers, or it's male-heavy. And where, exactly, did Lindsay sit? Although I generally counted her on the female side, there was no denying that penis between her legs. I wondered what was going on inside my head.
I grinned and unfroze, dimming the lights and walking towards the bedroom. Right at the moment, I felt bored, but I didn't feel like calling someone to relieve that boredom. I was interested in sex and orgasm, but I really wasn't interested in calling someone to assist. I sat down on the platform bed and contemplated my next move.
I needed something. Something private. I felt lazy for one thing, and let's face it, as much as I adore all of my friends calling any one of them up and asking them to share my bed would mean I have to pay attention to their wants and needs as well, and I wasn't in the mood to deal with other people and their wants and needs right at that moment.
I suppose if I called Tails I could get him to just fuck me, something I was at least partially in the mood for, but calling in a favor like that would still mean interacting with someone. And it would leave me owning him something in the future. I couldn't figure out why I felt the way I did. I wasn't lonely... I was alone, but preferring the solitude.
I leaned forward, pulled open the bottom drawer on the dresser we had set up, the drawer in which we kept the toys, and started rummaging. I found what I was looking for after less than ten seconds-- "Ramsey."
Yes, I sometimes think it's slightly in bad taste to name my dildos, but I do. I also wonder if naming this one "Ramsey" is in particularly bad taste. I suppose I could name it "Paul" but it's black, and, well, so is Ramsey. I could call it "Borodir," but Borodir is nowhere near this big. So "Ramsey" it is.
"Ramsey" is no beginner's toy; at it thickest it's fully 25 centimeters in circumference, but it's only about 18 cents tall, which is all I need. I'm not interested in trying to get anything deeper into me. It's the circumference I like to explore and play with.
I closed the drawer, and act which would have stunned P'nyssa; I'm always leaving drawers open. But I needed the floorspace, since I don't like doing this on the bed; the enormous mass of the latex is already unstable enough.
The head is tapered, narrowed. Once that's in though the shaft gets thick very quickly, satisfyingly filling me. Before I began playing, though, I remembered to take care of a few primary details. I hung my bathrobe up on the coattree we used alternately for cold-weather jackets (not that it's cold here very often) and drying towels, then took two towels out of the clean laundry basket. One I placed on the dresser next to the coattree, the other I opened and laid out on the floor. I also put a bottle of soap into the bathrobe's pocket.
I placed the dildo in the center of the of the towel, kneeling before it, placing one knee to either side of it. I took a deep breath and looked down at this threateningly huge faux cock, then picked up the bottle of lubricant and squeezed some onto the dildo's head. With my right hand I slathered it down the length of the shaft, coating the black column until it gleamed with a strange, suggestive light.
Now that my right hand was thick with lubricant, I reached down and began stroking my own cock. As I tugged and pulled on the skin, I coated it with the slippery gel and I could feel it growing hard again under my caresses. I don't agree with Tails; I like the glycerine stuff better than oils. It's sticky afterwards, but during it feels so much better.
I felt my groin go hot and my cock grow hard. My balls rose upwards in their sac, feeling tight already. I knew those feelings weren't really climactic, that I was far from my orgasm. It didn't matter. When I play with a big toy, I come fast.
And it's odd, too, because when I get fisted it's rare that I come at all. Sometimes I do, but it's maybe only a quarter of the time. With "Ramsey," the object is to come, and I come when I want to, on my own time.
I have rules about playing with "Ramsey" too. The most basic is that I want to be hard and excited when I try and fit it into my hole. I want to be ready.
I also go slow. Sometimes it takes half an hour to get Ramsey into me, and that's not a half hour I begrudge. I like my asshole; it has to last me a long time, and I don't really feel like calling some medico to come sew me up because I did something stupid while masturbating.
My cock surged to its full erection, and I could feel the tightness coming that meant that my orgasm was possible, if not assured. I arose from my kneel and crawled forwards a few steps. Knees to the floor, feet flat behind me, I knelt erect and positioned "Ramsey" underneath me, then slowly lowered myself onto it.
I felt the rubber head press against my backside, slowly sliding into that conical valley at the bottom of which lay my asshole. It slipped a little; I reached down with a hand to pull it back into place. I didn't press down very hard at all, but just sat there, adjusting to the idea that such a blunt object was going to go past my sphincter. I pressed down a little more, and I felt my asshole give way just a little, granting just a little more access to my insides.
I stroked my cock and it stayed hard. I felt my passion rise into my chest, and I pressed down a little more on the dildo, and felt my opening, my first sphincter, give way just a little.
Playing with toys these big, I don't even think of it as "success" when I get them within me; I just say my asshole gave up trying to keep them out. I'm not forcing anything; I'm just giving my hole the time it needs to adjust.
I lifted off the dildo, pressing up with my right leg to get a good look at it. I dripped more lubricant onto the head and slid back down onto the slippery black column. It pressed up into my asshole just a little further then before, but the added lubricant made the task of easing my hole open easier. I raised and lowered my hips, fucking myself with the tip of the dildo, pressing in a little further with each stroke until I reached the point of pain. Then I eased off, waited while the dildo held me open just so, and then tried to reach that limit again. And this time there was no pain... until further. I stopped and repeated the ritual, letting the flesh stretch and relax, stretch and relax.
It's not unlike doing exercises, really. Aaden's told me I have the tightest asshole he's come across that didn't belong to a virgin, and part of that is the exercises I do to keep tight after doing these stretches. I felt the flare of the head press against the walls of my outer sphincter. I knew the tip of the cockhead had reached in past the inner ring then, but I was still a way from getting the whole thing into me.
I began a slow, long rising and falling motion, coming all the way off the dildo and then plunging back onto it, slowly working it deeper into me. I felt the flare of the cockhead against the walls of my anus, and I knew that on the next stroke it would slide inside me. And I was right; as I slid down the cockhead penetrated me completely, the shaft sliding past my sphincter. I let out a sharp gasp.
The shaft widened to its full 25cms quickly, and just as quickly I had all 18 cms of depth into me. That's about all I can take, and I'm grateful for the intelligence to not try and take more.
Although I had paid little attention to it, my cock was still completely hard and now I gave it more attention, stroking more insistently. At the same time, I began to fuck myself earnestly with the dildo. It's short enough that when I've got as much as I can take my butt is pressed to the base of the toy. I took it all the way out, and then slid it past my sphincter again. Arching my back backwards, I pressed the ridge of the head against my prostate on every downstroke.
My hand became a blur over my cock and I felt my orgasm as an imminent event, something that would happen at any second. But with my asshole so open, so relaxed, the muscles of my body don't know how to make my groin tense and ready to shoot. My climax came closer and closer, and as I felt the first incredible spasms of ecstasy wash over me I pulled completely off the dildo and fell forward, supporting myself on my left hand as every muscle clamped shut tight, spraying my semen all over the towel.
I remember moaning; my head swam with the intensity of my orgasm as I stroked my cock again and again, milking out every final drop of come I could possibly get. Then I collapsed, rolling over onto my butt and sitting down on the towel, sitting in my own little pool of come.
I just lay there, staring at the huge black shaft of rubber and admiring the fact that I had had it inside me just a few seconds before. I lay there catching my breath.
Finally, I slowly stood up. My legs were still wobbly, but I would survive. I bent over and laid the dildo down onto the towel and folded the towel over it. Putting on the bathrobe and grabbing the clean towel, I slipped it and the towel with the dildo wrapped inside under my arm and made my way for the showers.
I returned home ten minutes later, feeling cleaner. I had cleaned the dildo off and tossed the soiled towels into one of the communal washers. With care I placed "Ramsey" back where I had found it and closed the drawer. Finally sleepy, I slipped under the covers of my bed and closed my eyes as well. I still felt lonely without someone to share company with tonight...
I smiled. I was now 'lonely,' rather than alone. I reached over the edge of the bed and found my PADD. "Lance?"
"Is Nishipo Parzec busy right now?"
"He is currently in SDisk Shuttle number four, reviewing a maintenance proceeding. I don't think that qualifies as 'busy.'"
"Call him, would you?"
The screen cleared, and his face appeared on it. "Ken!"
"Heya, Tails," I said, calling him by his nickname. "I've got an offer for ya."
"I'm heading to bed in a few minutes, and, well, I'd like some company. Just someone to sleep with. Aaden and Nyss are gone for the night. I, uhm, I'm just kinda lonely and want company."
"This can wait," he said, nodding his head towards whatever he was doing off-camera. "See you in five minutes?"
"Thanks," I said. I occupied myself with reading until he showed, and when he clapped I opened my tent flap and let him in with a hug. He kissed my cheek instead. "Thanks for coming."
"It's better than sleeping alone," he said. "I am kinda tired, though, so I hope you were serious about the 'just sleep' bit."
"Lead on, then," he yawned. I led him into the bedroom, where together we undressed him, then we both crawled into bed. He curled up onto his side and I wrapped myself around him. "Ken?" he whispered.
"What happens when we wake up?"
"We'll see, won't we?"
He laughed softly and caressed my arm. "Yeah, guess we will. G'night. Thanks for the invite."
"Thanks for accepting. G'night, Tails."