Sterlings: Men's Clothing
Erwer, Yavar 11, 06120
Pedestrians of all species treated Polly differently today as she walked through Otherton. She had walked past the Embassy and spotted Zia, standing at the front door, walking back and forth with her effortless efficiency. Zia had looked right at her and not recognized her. She liked that effect.
Polly reached back and stroked the back of her bare neck. Cutting her hair short again had been the biggest step. She regretted having to cut it although she knew it would grow back. She had fretted all night about her plan, wondering if Zia might like her less for it. Zia had never pulled on her hair during sex, and rarely commented on Polly’s appearance. At most, Zia wanted Polly to look “passable” for whatever role she was playing at the moment: officer, lady, physician, girlfriend.
Polly thought back to the statuesque Zia Tau and the way she looked at her office, standing at attention. “Girlfriend” was the word they used for one another, even after six months. Polly had once believed they might progress to “lover,” but she doubted it now. Other than those weird, sad flashes that she saw on Zia’s face now and then, Zia was pure and ideal Spartan: she did her duty to the community and never opened her heart to anyone. That she had strange and demanding pleasures was acceptable so long as she could turn away from them and toward her greater civic duty when called upon to do so. Zia had never let Polly believe anything other than that this relationship could be put on hold at a moment’s notice, and if Zia had to give her life for the Embassy, well, that was tough. Polly was on her own.
Polly had switched to using a wrist-mounted padd as the glasses might have given away her charade. She checked it, found nothing. She was on call, but then she was always “on call” these days. Other than routine checkups, most of the emergencies were covered by the Terrans in the Otherton clinic and they were far better equipped. Polly had been studying Pendorian and Terran medical techniques and was relieved to know that treating trauma was still the same in the primary and secondary care phases. She was studying how to deal with near-terminal cases, and the extent to which trauma-based brain medicine was automated daunted her.
She sat at one of the ubiquitous cafes, this one associated with a browseshop, looking around with casual indifference. The browseshops were media distribution stores where one could buy books or music the producers had decided were worth paying for. The idea was simple enough: cover art and samples could be had in vast quantities, and the chance of bumping into someone else who shared one’s taste added to the charm. An abstract bookstore. She shifted a little in her chair: the discomfort in her chest would last until Zia came off duty.
Zia walked in on schedule and scanned the room, then frowned. Polly laughed to herself. She pushed the chair back, stood up, and walked over to where Zia stood. She had practiced her voice all morning. “Can I help you soldier?”
Zia looked right at her. “I’m looking for someone.”
Zia glanced around the room. “No, not you. A friend.”
She shifted to her normal voice “But, Zia, you are looking for me.” She took off her hat, ran her hand through the short shock of hair that was left on top of her head.
“Polly?” Zia was stunned, staring at her. “What did you do?”
“I wanted to see what it was like to dress as a mel– a man, I mean. I knew that Dove’s lovers always like to dress up as girls, so I asked them where I could learn to do the opposite.” She smiled wide. “They took me to a store on the other side of Otherton.” That sounded odd to her.
Zia examined the outfit. The leather cap, denim trousers, hard angular shirt with a tartan design, square workboots, and Polly’s newly shortened hair all conspired to hide her femininity. Zia smirked, leaned down and said, “What happened to your boobs?”
Polly replied in the same low tones, “They sell a chest binder. It’s a little uncomfortable, but it works.”
“I see,” Zia said. She reached out for Polly’s hand. “C’mon. We’re going back to the apartment.”
“Zia, what– ?” Polly laughed. She knew what she Zia wanted. She wanted it too.
They left the cafe and walked along the streets. Zia walked briskly along the wide sidewalks, Polly running in the newly purchased and not yet broken boots. “Try to keep up, Polly,” Zia said.
Polly’s jeans pressed against her crotch in uncomfortable and unfamiliar ways. Running, the fabric slipped back and forth over the head of her dick and it grew hard. “This isn’t good,” she muttered. She caught a glance of herself in a shop window and halted.
She had seen herself a few times in the store mirror. In the window she saw herself after walking in the costume for two or three hours, judging what other males wore, and she liked what she saw of herself. “I look… male.” It was a strange sensation. There had been segments in her history and biology classes where images of masculinity were shown, but for the most part pictures of men were as rare as pictures of lobsters, perhaps less so: there were lobster farms on the Free Worlds.
Even more surprising to her, she reminded herself of Saul and her erection surged. “Polly?”
“Zia?” She looked up.
“Admiring yourself?” Zia’s feral grin was severe. Her eyes dropped down the length of Polly’s front to her crotch. “I see that you are.” She closed in on Polly, shielding her actions from the eyes of others, and stroked Polly’s dick through the fabric.
“Zia!” Polly hissed. “Don’t.”
“But why not?” Zia said. “It likes it.”
“Someone might see! Leave it alone, it’ll go away.”
“Someone might,” Zia agreed. “Or might not. But there’s no way I’m leaving your beautiful hard dick alone.” She grabbed Polly’s hand and pulled her into an alleyway. The alley was wide enough for the narrower delivery vehicles driving around the city. Zia pushed Polly up against the wall, their bodies barely hidden from the street by a large red-and-white iron transfer bin with “no garbage” stenciled all over it. “You’re so beautiful, Polly.”
“Zia, what are you–” Polly’s voice went up an octave as Zia’s hand found the zipper on her jeans and pulled them open. With a rough shove she reached in and found her prize. “Zia!”
“Be quiet. You don’t want to attract attention.” She pulled Polly’s dick into the open air. It slapped against her wrist as she stroked it. Polly struggled to contain herself. “You like that, don’t you? Your big dick is going to shoot all over my hands, and then I’m going to take you home and make you come a dozen times. How come you’re not wearing any underwear?”
Polly managed to gasp, “The Free World shorts didn’t fit with the trousers. Zia!”
“Good,” Zia said. Polly sagged against the wall, her whole body tense with need. Zia knew how to bring her off, and she could just contained the groan of pleasure as her body shuddered and she came, sending a jet of come into Zia’s waiting palms. Zia grinned and looked down. “You should put that away,” she said.
Polly shoved her dick down into her pants, taking extra care with the unfamiliar zipper. Zia shook the semen off her hand then licked up the remains, still grinning. “We’re just getting started, Polly. Let’s get home.” She grabbed Polly’s hand and pulled the girl.
The entire walk home, Zia never let go of her hand. Polly felt like a ribbon, a kite, some lightweight toy a mischievous child let fly in the breeze. When they reached the apartment they shared Zia didn’t hesitate. She threw Polly against the couch, then tore open her jeans with such force Polly was afraid she would rip something. Polly’s dick, already hard again, flipped up, ready.
Zia licked the the length of Polly’s dick from the base up to the tip, then engulfed half of it in one sweep. Polly groaned. “Zia, not so hard.”
Zia ignored Polly’s pleas, shoving her mouth down further onto Polly, oblivious to anything but the dick in her mouth. She engulfed it down to the base and let her tongue flicker out as far as she could to Polly’s perineum to make her point. There was one thing she could that almost no other woman could: she could take all of Polly’s dick down her throat. It had taken weeks of practice but she had been determined to master it.
Polly watched helplessly as Zia’s head bobbed on her dick. She twisted against the couch, her whole body on fire with physical demands that wrestled with her embarrassment. She panted hard, fighting the building, explosive pressure within her crotch. Zia’s sucking mouth was so strong it was on the verge of painful, but only just: Zia knew better than anyone how to make Polly suffer with ecstasy and like it afterward. “Zia, I’m gonna…!”
Zia swallowed Polly’s dick as Polly came. Polly didn’t even try to hold back her shout. Her come seemed to be torn out of her as Zia sucked even harder. “Zia, don’t! Goddess, you’re doing that too hard!”
Zia released Polly’s dick, which flopped against Polly’s belly, still hard. A thin trail of come dribbled from her lip, but she wiped it with a fingertip and then licked her finger. “So good, Polly.”
“What’s happened to you, Zia?”
Zia answered Polly with a forceful kiss, a demanding, aching kiss. She rode up the length of Polly’s body until her hips were over Polly’s. She grabbed Polly’s dick and positioned it, then slid down onto it, her pussy engulfing Polly like a trap. Polly gasped, “Too strong, too soon!”
“But you’re still hard,” Zia said. She rode on Polly’s cock with a force like a hurricane, and Polly held on to Zia’s arms, desperate for any anchor against her lover. Zia was a wonderful and demanding fuck almost all of the time, but right now she was something else, possessed of a will that was unlike her normal, horny self. Her breasts bounced within centimeters of Polly’s eyes, and Polly grabbed each one in turn and sucked on them. “Ah, yah, fuh, yah…” Zia moaned. “Suck ‘em!”
“I’m gonna come, Zia, soon!”
“Not until I do!” Zia said.
“Then don’t go so fast! Not so tight!” Polly cried as Zia’s hips continued their incessant battering. It was too much, and she came again, deep inside Zia’s warm, incredible pussy. And still she was hard. “Zia, please, stop!” she whined.
“No,” Zia growled. “I was close. Not until I come.”
“I feel like I’m gonna die!” Polly moaned through the amazing agony of Zia’s pussy wrapped around her dick. That was only half true. The course of her climax was set in motion and there was no holding back. Even as Zia pounded at her, her aching dick throbbed and she came again.
“Closer,” Zia whispered. “Goddess, closer!” She forced herself down onto Polly’s dick, which throbbed with near agonizing force back into full hardness. “Close, yes… I’m there, Polly, I’m there! Yes!” She came hard around Polly’s dick, her whole body rigid, high-pitched whining from her throat as her body jerked and pulsated with ecstacy.
“Oh, Goddess,” Zia said, her eyes dark again with animal lust. “That was much better than usual. Ready for more?”
Polly panted. Her whole body hurt now. She felt as if Zia had drained her not just of come but of something more, as if her body had tapped out reserves in her spinal column to fulfill Zia’s needs. She shook her head. “No. No more. I don’t… I don’t have any more.”
“I bet I can find more,” Zia said. Polly’s prodigious dick lay soft against her belly. Zia looked down, turned around, pulled Polly’s dick into an upright position.
“Told you,” Polly said, still gasping. “I’m not gonna be hard for hours.”
“Yes you will,” Zia said. She turned around on the couch so she was facing away, then reached between both of their legs and slipped two fingers up into Polly’s asshole.
Polly squealed, “Zia!” But those fingers sliding deep into her made her dick respond, and incredibly it stiffened under Zia’s direct and effective assault. Polly moaned aloud as Zia slipped down onto her dick again. “Stop it, Zia!” she cried, half-meaning it.
“But it worked!” Zia panted, her body pounding up and down. “It always works with your big dick.” Sweat was pouring down her back, off her arms. “So good… fuh, fuck yeah!”
“Stop playing with my ass! That feels so weird!”
“So good, Polly, so good…”
Polly couldn’t help it. Zia’s pussy was always the best thing she had ever known, and this day was no exception. “I’m gonna come, Zia!”
“Yes!” Polly shouted as her cock throbbed hard against the walls of Zia’s pussy. There was nothing left for Polly to shoot and the twitching force of her orgasm hurt. Her cock remained hard, Zia’s fingers up against her prostate.
Zia kept going. Polly moaned, her head thrown back, exhaustion disabling every muscle from the neck down except the ones that seemed to be keeping her dick hard, and Zia was now just using her, like she always did, a fuck toy, the best fuck toy owner on the planet. The little noises from Polly’s throat came from a firing nervous system with only a tenuous connection to her brain, but she heard Zia cry out, “Gonna come, fuh, fuh, fuh, gonna come, I’m … come!” Zia threw her head back and howled like an animal. Zia’s body clenched repeatedly around her dick even as Polly came one final time, almost simultaneously and without any input from the rest of her.
Polly sagged back against the couch, a trail of drool coursing down her cheek. Zia lay next to her on the couch. “Can you keep going, Polly?”
“No,” she moaned. “That’s it. That’s my limit. Any more and I’m gonna die.” She picked up her head and looked down. “Goddess, I think my dick got smaller, Zia. You pulled off pieces and parts.”
Zia laughed. “I don’t think so.”
The ubiquitous hand towels she kept in a box under the bed and the couch came out, and she handed one to Polly while she applied another to herself. She winced. Polly said, “Wow, even your body can wear out.”
“The twins swear bodies don’t wear out,” Zia said.
“They also understand when Dove needs a rest,” Polly replied. “Goddess, Zia, what’s gotten in to you? You’ve been… wild. Strange. Stranger than usual.”
Zia looked at her, the curious, sad expression fleeting past. “I told you I was a freak.”
“But I am too,” Polly said. “And I’m not unhappy with it.” Impulsively, she straddled Zia, took the other woman’s face in her hands. Zia looked surprised as Polly kissed her.
Zia sighed into the kiss, then turned her head away, embarrassed. “Let’s get showered. I have to dress up and make nice for the Ambassador tonight anyway. The signing is next week, and she has a lot of appointments between now and then.”