Aces Pt. 02 - Jennifer

Note: This is a short follow up to my first Aces story. The more detailed back story of this can be found there.

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Jennifer was pissed. That little dork-wad Brian fell asleep. Asleep, god damn it, while she was naked. Naked on his bed, with him naked too. He didn't even have the decency to get hard from eating her pussy. She didn't know which to be more insulted by.

She got up from the bed, quietly, not wanting to wake him. She didn't give a shit about him, she just didn't want to have to deal with his stupid fumbling around. It was embarrassing enough when he was awake, half asleep it would be intolerable.

She crept out of the room and down the hall, looking for Charles. She'd been up there long enough to convince anyone in the house that he'd fucked her. Inseminated her, at least. She half expected she wouldn't be allowed to leave, but when she found the butler, or majordomo, or secret agent man, whatever the hell he called himself, he was very polite and offered to have her escorted wherever she wanted to go.

She didn't want to be escorted. She saw the front door and pointed. "Is that the way out?"

Charles nodded. "Yes. But, Miss...."

"Forget it, Charles." she gave him a dismissing wave and headed out the door, slamming it on the way out. She hoped that it woke the fucking dweeb up. The agents posted outside looked at her neutrally, passively. People leaving were the opposite of the threat they were there to guard against.

She angry walked toward the gate, feeling the agents' eyes on her. The drive she was walking along was full of cracks and little pebbles and it made her wish she'd remembered her shoes.

Her shoes?

She stopped, frozen. It wasn't just her shoes, she was still naked. She turned and looked back toward the looming facade of the house and front portico. The two guards still stood there, watching her. Probably wondering if she was going to try to get back in. Would they even let her? She'd had to be escorted in in the first place, by invitation, and it was that fucker Brian that called the shots.

"Fuck it." she said to herself, and turned back toward the gate. How could any guy not get hard seeing her naked on her back, legs spread. Spread for him?

"He wasn't doing too bad a job" a little voice in her head said.

"Beginner's luck." she dismissed the voice.

"It was working. That's why you're so pissed." the voice retorted.

"Sure, it was working. I was pretending it was Jamal." Jamal never went down on her, but he had a huge cock. A worthless one now, she thought. He was twisted.

The voice didn't bother using words, it just put an image directly into her head. Brian taking her clothes off, patiently, slowly. Kissing down her body. Laying her gently on the bed, sliding her panties off and kissing inch by inch as her mound was slowly uncovered, then her lips and slit, then...

"And not getting hard." she yelled back. "Sure, he'd fucked those other two sluts. Probably shot his whole wad with that. Kids like him always do."

"You waited there, naked, just to have a chance at being his third of the day. Who's the slut now?"

"Gaaahhhh!. Shut. The. Fuck. Up." she yelled at the voice in her head.

"Fourth, actually." the voice reminded her.

"Fuck. Who was that bitch? What has she got that she gets escorted straight into the inner sanctum?"

"She seemed real."

Jennifer hefted her own tits to defy the voice, then remembered she was in full view of anybody outside the gate. This damn yard was lit up like the fourth of July. "These are as real as a heart attack." she told the voice. "She ain't got anything like these. And that idiot fell for her act. I'll give her that, she knew the right angle to reel him in."

"Why did you leave your clothes there?"

"I forgot, OK? I'm pissed."

"It gives you an excuse to go back."

"I have to go back anyway, right?" she shot back.

"If he'll let you." The voice in her head twisted the knife.

"He's had a taste. A literal taste. He'll take me back in."

Brian was an Ace. When the twister virus hit, it left 99.99+ percent of men worldwide with non-viable sperm, unable to conceive a baby. They just spun in circles and fell apart once they'd been shot out. It was incurable, untreatable, and made even artificial insemination impractical. They still had a vanishingly small chance of success, but it was so slim that it only mattered in the statistics assembled in dusty basements of the world's governments' data centers.

It was a catastrophe in slow motion. As the years ground on, the human population would fall precipitously. Economies would crash, goods and services would disappear, and eventually the human race would be reduced to a relative handful of survivors huddling in caves and desperately trying to rebuild both their numbers and their civilization.

There were a few, a lucky few, called Aces, who were unaffected by the virus. Or at least only minimally affected. But the numbers were tiny. A hundred and a half give or take in the US. A few thousand worldwide.

And Brian Abernathy, a painfully introverted virgin sophomore at Jacobsen University, the university Jennifer herself was a junior at, was the latest one discovered.

He wasn't a virgin any more. Jennifer had witnessed that herself, there in the pool of the near mansion the Secret Service had moved him into.

Yes, the Secret Service, Jennifer thought bitterly. That little shit has the future of the human race in his pants. Of course the government would protect him.

And the incentives. Any woman that gets pregnant, whether by an Ace or a statistical miracle from anyone else, will be more or less set for life. The guy gets a nice windfall, and an Ace that can get the job done over and over will be a very wealthy man.

Sure, why not? The world needed more babies, a lot more, and money talks. That's the only reason Jennifer had let the guy anywhere near her. In real life, she never would have let him see her bare shoulder, let alone strip her and push her legs apart, then push his face or anything else between them.

She'd even told him that. He took it like it was no surprise. He knew the score.

"You told him more than that." the voice said. Yeah, she admitted, she'd told him he wasn't bad looking. She was approaching the gate, and she slowed, seeing a small crowd still gathered there, including a news crew.

"Sure. I didn't want him to shut down before he had a chance to knock me up."

"He isn't that bad looking." the voice said. Jennifer had no answer.

"And he made you think, didn't he?" The agents at the gate stood ready to open small doorway inset into it, to let her leave. The sooner the better, they probably thought. She got to the gate and grabbed one of the bars, then stopped. She leaned on it.

"Ma'am?" the agent asked.

"Give me a second." she said. The agent nodded, but kept an eye on her. Not exactly an unpleasant task in my present state, she thought.

That voice had twisted the knife again. Brian had asked a simple, offhand question. Probably less insight and more a random connection by a groggy mind.

Women who got pregnant got an incentive even if they gave the baby up for adoption. They just didn't get the lifetime support and stipend, but it was still a pretty good chunk of cash. And it didn't come with 18 years of commitment and responsibility.

When she told him she wasn't into long term relationships, he asked if that meant she was going to take that route, to give the baby up for adoption.

It had stopped her in her tracks. He had his finger in her pussy when he asked it, laying next to her. She could tell he was getting sleepy, but she had still been pretty sure she could coax him along long enough to cum in her.

But she froze. Why had she told him that? About not being into long term relationships? The voice in her head suggested she was opening up to him because she liked him. A little. She ignored it.

She had never really thought about it. Never thought it through. She just needed to get pregnant, get the incentive bonus, then try to do it again. She didn't want to work for a living. She wanted to party, to date hot guys, to get fucked every night. To have some stud wrapped around her little finger. Yeah, she was going to take the cash and run. She'd always known it, even if she didn't admit it to herself.

Her eyes watered and she slumped at the gate, clinging to the bar.

She finally gathered herself together and pushed through the gate, walking slowly into the crowd. She was aware of her nudity, every eye in the crowd on her tits, her pussy, her ass. That the news crew was filming her. It's legal to show nudity on television now, even graphic sex. All part of the new laws to encourage everyone, even the normals, to fuck like rabbits every chance they got, just in case it works out. Or on the off chance you run into an Ace.

A man in the crowd approached her. He was one of those creepy hangers-on that had started popping up wherever women gathered to clamor for their shot at an Ace. Guys who thought they could make time with the cast-offs, the rejects, the also-rans. He was nude. He had an erection. Not a very impressive one. "Not very satisfying, was it?" he asked, looking at her hopefully when he remembered to look at her eyes.

She wanted to tell him that Brian had fucked her brains out. That she'd blown his mind, rocked his world, over and over again. That she'd driven him to pump wad after fat wad of cum into her cunt. She had a reputation to maintain, after all. She damn well couldn't tell the world that he and his limp dick fell asleep practically on top of her naked body before he could even get started.

"Fuck off." was all she said. She turned away and there was a bright, blinding light in her eyes. When her eyes adjusted enough to see, there was a camera pointed at her. A woman she vaguely recognized held a microphone, saying something inane into it in a voice way too bright and artificial for this miserable night.

The cameraman wasn't even trying to pretend that he wasn't panning up and down her body. It would be great for ratings. The woman reporter thrust the microphone into her face. "So, what is Brian Abernathy like?" she asked. A softball question to get the ball rolling.

"He's like every other guy." she said, looking into the camera, letting its view of her perfect, nude body serve as sufficient explanation.

The space between her answer and the next question from the reporter seemed to stretch into infinite time. "He's different from any guy you've ever met." the voice in her head said.

"Because I've always gone out of my way to not meet guys like him." she replied silently.

"You wish you hadn't." the voice said.

"I....". She couldn't answer that.

She realized the reporter had asked another question and the microphone was back in her face. She hit rewind on her memory. The reporter had gone straight for the big question. "Do you think you'll qualify for the incentive program?"

While she was busy rewinding, the voice in her head sneaked past her and answered the question itself.

"You mean did I hit the jackpot? Did I win all the chips? Is that all you care about? We're talking about the whole fucking human race here, you stupid cunt, and whether or not it will have any god damn future at all. We're talking about babies. Human babies. Real live people, people who will grow up and hopefully perpetuate the species some day. But in the meantime, they're fragile little things that need to be cared for and loved. Stop talking about them like they're poker chips, something to win or lose, to be passed around as a reward for a job well done. Fuck you."

She stormed off before the reporter could react, knowing that the whole crowd, and the entire TV audience were watching her go. All of them were probably thinking, now that is one fine piece of ass. All but one or two of them. One in particular.

"What the hell had just happened?" she asked the voice in her head.

"Do you want a baby?" the voice asked her.

"You tell me. You're the one that seems to know it all."

The voice, for once, was silent.

She made it back to her sorority house without further incident. Inside her room, her roommate was sitting cross-legged on the bed in her nightgown. The TV was on, tuned to a 24 hour news channel. She didn't look at it.

"You were there a long time." her roommate said, looking up as Jennifer strode into the room. "How did it go?"

"I don't want to talk about it, Carol." she said as she flopped down on her own bed, on top of the covers. Carol didn't seem surprised that Jennifer was nude. She'd probably seen it on the news. Carol looked to be bursting with curiosity, but she was subdued, knowing that something was wrong. "Not now." Jennifer said more softly. It wasn't Carol's fault, and she didn't blame her for wanting to know all the details.

She lay back on the bed and spread her legs. She was really worked up. She always needed a good hard fuck when she got pissed off, but there was something else going on too. She could figure out what it was later. She started rubbing herself and pinching her nipples, not caring that Carol was right there with all the lights on. She just didn't care. Some people needed a drink to calm down, some needed a cigarette. She needed a good wank in lieu of a hard cock. She wasn't in the mood to deal with anybody right now.

She got wet, her nipples got hard, but she couldn't get there. Couldn't even get close. Her mind kept going to Brian with his face between her thighs, but she didn't even want to think about that. She conjured up all her favorite fantasies. Nothing.

She heard Carol getting fidgety. The TV went off, then the lights. Carol got up and walked out, probably to the bathroom. Jennifer desperately cycled through her stock scenarios. Her mind kept bouncing back to Brian and she kept pushing the thought away.

She heard the front door of the house open, and looked back. Brian was running toward her with no clothes on, his cute junk slapping against one thigh then the other....

She forced herself to picture Jamal over her, his massive, dark cock standing proudly as he looked down at her on the bed....

Brian caught up to her just before she got to the gate. He took her head softly in his hands...

The surfer dude stepped out of the water, drops glistening on his chiseled abs, his tree trunk thighs...

"Fuck, fuck fuck,: Jennifer hissed. "God dammit."

She kissed Brian and before she knew it, she was on her back in the grass. Grass that didn't actually exist anywhere near the gate. Soft, luxurious grass. It was broad daylight, the sky a perfect blue, the sun shining bright and gentle on her skin. His face was between her legs.

"Oh fuck." Jennifer moaned. Her back arched on the bed. The whole crowd was watching them. The cameras of all the news crews were fixed on them. The world would see her, see him, see what he was doing to her. Her fingers made wet squelching sounds.

She came hard under Brian's tongue and fingers, but in her bed, she held it off just a little bit longer. Just long enough for Brian to pull his face away, look into her eyes, and slide his body up her body. He covered her mouth with his as he entered her....