72 Hours of Immersion Pt. 04

But this time, we were joined by a fifth person. A rusty-blonde-haired woman with wide shoulders and a thick butt strode hastily toward us. She exchanged words quickly with the two men. I got the feeling she was asking why they had started without her. The intersex grinned at her and welcomed her to our group. The men also seemed pleased to see her.

All four pairs of eyes focused on me abruptly. It took me only a moment to comprehend. This newcomer was clothed; she couldn't take part in our session unless we accepted her.

"Happy to have you!" I said. My accent must have been a little comical; the older man chuckled and the younger man smiled playfully. The rusty-haired woman opened her long coat. She was wearing a yellow, woolen one-piece dress, which she bunched around her waist. The men scooted back along the bench. I felt the voluptuous intersex put her hands on my tummy, giving me the idea that we should do the same. The woman in the yellow dress dropped onto her knees in front of me. Her head started bobbing over the young man's cock. I knew what she wanted, and I gave it to her: I slipped my tongue along the pretty pink slit that protruded between her upper thighs. The intersex lady beneath me pushed her pelvis upward, signaling me to start riding her cock again. I was happy to oblige. I dug my fingers into the clothed woman's plump ass and ate her out as well as my awkward position would let me.

Since there were five people involved, our fucking got out of rhythm a few times. It felt very good nonetheless. In particular, I enjoyed the smell of the tangy pussy in front of me and the feel of the pulsing penis inside my slavering snatch.

Naturally, the young man came first-he was getting stimuli from inside and outside, so it made perfect sense.

I knew that our tryst wouldn't last much longer, now that one person had had an orgasm. I was determined to give an orgasm to the woman in the yellow dress. I took one of my hands from her ass and snuck it between her legs. While I sucked and licked her labia, I flicked my fingers over her partly-hidden love button. She got vocal, panting and muttering, "Yes. That's good; yes!" over and over.

My efforts were fruitful. The woman suddenly shoved her pussy against my face and rode out her climax. She wasn't very juicy, but I slurped her pussy energetically, hoping to excite her more.

I was free to deal with the sexy "woman-with-extra-bits" I was riding. I sat in her lap for a moment. I put my hand on her knee to get her attention. "Can I move? Can I suck your penis?" I asked her. I'd heard enough native talk to know I said every word correctly. I turned and made eye contact with her.

She said, "Okay, darling." (I'm not sure she said "darling"; it might have been "baby" or "honey" or something.)

With more than passing regret, I lifted myself off her slippery cock. I got on my knees in front of her and lunged face-first at her crotch. She barely had enough time to roll the condom off her shaft before I closed my lips around her very warm dick.

Now came the part I'd wondered about. I placed my fingertips gingerly on her hairless nut sack. I slid my other hand under the first. Propped on my forearms, tasting and teasing her slender shaft, my fingers carefully explored the area under her balls.

She hissed. I glanced up as best I could. Yes, that had been a hiss of surprise and delight. I smiled around her penis.

My probing digits found the very damp top of her vaginal crevice. I worked my middle finger inside her pussy-

-She came much faster than I'd expected! Her pelvis thrust involuntarily, shoving her cock balls-deep in my mouth. My eyes watered and my throat tightened, but I managed not to gag. Her semen flooded my mouth. The smell was more pungent, more primal, than the man's had been earlier in the day. The taste was a little more bitter, perhaps.

I pulled back from her penis, of course, but I managed to concentrate well enough to keep my finger working on her cunt.

She was breathing rapidly. She put her hands on my shoulders and pushed feebly. I understood and gently took my hands away from her genitals.

She said something to me. I'm fairly sure it was, "Naughty bitch!" If not, it was what she meant. She beamed with happiness. She put her hand on my sperm-dripping chin and urged me upward, into a kiss.

I hadn't seen it, but the man with the mustache had gotten off while I was doing my thing. The younger man and the clothed woman politely helped me and the intersex to our feet.

This time, I hadn't had an orgasm either, but that didn't matter to me. Sex with this group had been marvelous.

I looked around, wondering how many people had watched us. There weren't more than a half-dozen this time.

But one of them was Harkje. Standing with her was a woman who might have been in her late-40s or early-50s. She had her coarse fuchsia hair cut very close to her scalp on the left side of her face, the hair on her right was at least shoulder-length, neatly arranged in a bun atop her head. She had wide, sleepy hazel eyes. The indented skin on either side of her nose told me that she wore glasses pretty often.

Harkje looked kind of embarrassed for me. The woman with her looked at me as though she was studying me.

"This is Dr. Tomassov," Harkje said when it was clear that the festivities were momentarily over. She handed me a red-and-black cotton handkerchief.

I was bashful suddenly-certainly because of Harkje's expression. "Pleased to meet you, Doctor," I said in common Icelandic. I turned away a little, trying not to be completely immodest while wiping fluids from my body.

"I am pleased to meet you," said the older woman. She spoke Icelandic like a Reykjavik native. "I have time to talk with you now."

oOOOo

It was a short car ride to a sturdy building on the edge of the village. (The car was electric and the interior was luxurious; it probably belonged to the doctor.) The building looked like an Alpine chalet, with a steep, high-peaked roof and many windows with wrought-iron frames. Inside, the building was completely modern. It was broken into three multi-level suites, and Dr. Tomassov led us to hers.

She took a bundle of papers and folders out of a chair and motioned that I should sit. I was very conscious of being naked in her house, but neither she nor Harkje even seemed to think about that, so I sat and tried to get comfortable on the pleather cushion. Our host cleared another chair for Harkje and soon we were all in a small half-circle. "You study languages," Dr. Tomassov said to me. "Maybe cultures as well?"

"Yes," I said. "This culture may be the most fascinating I've ever encountered."

The doctor looked happy with my answer. "Harkje tells me that you want to know more about kurouhd in particular." She pronounced the word deliberately, obviously wanting me to hear its sound. "Ku-" sounded like the word "cool" without the final l and "-rouhd" rhymed with the word "good." There was stress on the second syllable.

"What is 'kurouhd'?" I asked.

"It is the term for our mixed-sex individuals. The word is so old that I can't be sure, but I think it means 'changed by Rouhd.' Rouhd Mountain is the major volcano just to the West."

"Yes. Yes, I'm very interested!" I said. "How can there be so many kurouhd? I thought intersex people are usually sterile."

"You have two different issues there, although you don't know it. In the wide world, intersexed people are fairly rare, but it is a common myth that they are sterile. The vast majority of them are totally capable of pregnancy or causing impregnation. Not both, just either/or. They usually have chromosome sets XX or XY, but their hormones have expressed their traits differently for any number of reasons.

"But that is not why you're here. You are here to learn about our people.

"Well, kurouhd are not intersexes. That discovery is what led me to study them exclusively. They have a completely unique chromosome. Chromosomes X and Y were named for their shapes: I call the chromosome I discovered 'Psi' because it resembles the Greek letter psi."

I looked closely at Dr. Tomassov. "How is that possible?" I asked.

Dr. Tomassov rolled her eyes. Sounding like a lecturer, she said, "I have been trying to answer that question for almost 20 years. My first theory was that 'changed by Rouhd' could be the truth. I think the Psi-chromosome is a mutation of the Y-chromosome. It could also be a mutation of the X, but I doubt that after analyzing so much evidence. When one considers all the strange sulfur and nitrogen compounds spewing into the air with the volcanic activity, it's possible that an individual's DNA was altered at a molecular level. Common sense suggests a developing individual-maybe a zygote or fetus who would have been male. The mother's placenta likely spared the unborn child a lethal dose of chemicals, but the mutation persisted and proliferated.

"Another possibility is radiation. I have had students and friends help me look for the earliest kurouhd: specimens, historical records, archaeological evidence, anything! If I am correct, they may have appeared about the same time that a very large asteroid with high iron content splashed into the shallows of the ocean less than a km from our coastline. If the asteroid was moving slowly enough and if it entered the atmosphere at the right time, there should have been an interval when cosmic rays penetrated Earth's magnetosphere and bombarded the vicinity. Cosmic rays have been neglected because of the expense involved in studying them, but they could credibly cause mutation, maybe the same mutation in many individuals at once, which would make propagation more likely.

"I lean toward this second hypothesis, but either is possible.

"And I have another theory that is much less likely. In our foothills, there are isolated pockets of radium. Radioactive material has often caused genetic mutation. However, radioactive elements are fairly common throughout the world, yet kurouhd seem to exist only in our village and the surrounding area for a few km."

I shifted a little in my seat. "Those possibilities are interesting, but why wouldn't the kurouhd have spread, at least throughout Iceland?"

"You ask a question better put to a sociologist or an anthropologist," she answered. "I have a few ideas, but that is not my area of study."

Harkje knew Dr. Tomassov. Before things could get awkward or disturbing, she prudently steered the conversation onto a different path. "Would you like to see the Psi-chromosome, Xi-Lin?" the tall librarian asked.

Dr. Tomassov brightened instantly. I nodded. "I'd love to see it!" I was exaggerating, but I wanted to be a good guest. Besides, I had many more questions and this scientist had at least a few answers.

The doctor escorted us to her main research room. "Stefvon, please pull up 'Psi: Slide Sequence One' on the central monitor," said Dr. Tomassov. (I was a little surprised; there was an assistant scurrying around the lab. I had figured that no one would be working on research during the festival-but on the other hand, why shouldn't anyone? It wasn't like Oktoberfest completely shut down Munchen, for example.)

On the huge, flat-screen monitor, in high-definition, I saw the bluish-tinted image of the Psi-chromosome. In spite of myself, I was kind of awestruck. This tiny collection of genes was responsible for people like Harkje?

While various images of the unique chromosome cycled across the wide screen, I felt a tough but gentle hand on my shoulder. Dr. Tomassov was walking toward a work station, probably to speak with Stefvon. Harkje was taking advantage of the opportunity to speak with me. "You are fitting right in at the festival," she murmured. I thought I heard jealousy in her voice.

"And you would fit in if you came to my city," I told her quietly.

She squeezed my shoulder, but she said nothing in response. I hoped I was making her think.

"How do you like the look of Psi?" asked our hostess.

"It looks like a trident," I said. "But I'm not sure how it works. Does it pair with an X, the way a Y would?"

The doctor said, "Half the time, it does. The other half of the time, it accompanies two Xs. In other words, both X/Psi and X/X/Psi produce kurouhd. These are the only combinations I have found, but I hypothesize that X/Psi/Y is also possible."

"I have seen several kurouhd. What is the difference between X/Psi and X/X/Psi?" I asked.

"There is very little difference. I am conducting more studies, of course. So far, I have found nothing significant but size. X/Psi average height and mass are 165 cm, 52 kg (5'5", 114 lbs). X/X/Psi average height and mass are 175 cm, 61 kg (5'9", 134 lbs). X/X/Psi kurouhd have great strength and stamina as well. Considering that the rare individuals who have X/X/X or X/X/Y chromosomes also have increased strength, the finding is not surprising. What does surprise me is that there are so many X/X/Psi. I am completely at a loss to explain that phenomenon. Much of my last five years of research has been devoted to discovering the explanation."

The question I really wanted to ask was right there, right on the tip of my tongue. But I didn't ask it. I didn't know why at the time, but now I think it was because I thought Harkje could answer just as well...and that Harkje wanted me to ask her, not to ask Dr. Tomassov.

oOOOo

After an hour-long tour of the research clinic's facilities, Harkje and I told the doctor that we wanted to get back to town and find some dinner. She graciously drove us back to the center of the village.

I had a lot to think about. I went back to my rented room to put on some clothes and hopefully share a supper with Ms. Garrikoet and some of her other tenants.

oOOOo

A couple of times after supper, festival-goers came to my door. (One of the callers was Fehherok, the woman I'd seen in the tiny slingshot swimsuit when I'd arrived in the village. She had a strap-on and she wanted me to use it on her!) I had fun times with them, but I didn't get into the festivities the way I had in the early afternoon, because I was anticipating a visit from Harkje and Qenefvere.

Not long before midnight, Qenefvere and Harkje arrived at my room. I ushered them inside and offered them drinks.

When they were settled in the easy chairs and I was sitting on the edge of my bed, I spoke to them seriously. "Qenefvere, what do you do for a living?" I asked.

Harkje translated my question into the local dialect for her girlfriend. Qenefvere said, "I design. Plumbing, irrigation, things that involve running water." I understood enough of her answer that I didn't need a translation.

"That skill is in demand all over the world," I said, smiling encouragingly at the pretty brunette. "Have you ever thought of leaving this village, at least for a while? I would like to come here again soon to see you and Harkje. Eventually, I would like the two of you to come with me and travel."

Qenefvere listened to Harkje's translation. Her face showed reluctance, suspicion, and a flash of annoyance. "This is home," she said. "Our families live here."

"We will travel for only one week," I explained. Silently I resigned myself to a long night of debating, discussing-even outright pleading and/or lying if it came to that.

oOOOo

End of Part Four

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