Cyberspunk 2069 Bk. 03

We were naked and I was on all fours in front of him within minutes, and he squeezed my soft, warm tits with one hand while guiding himself inside me with the other. I actually gasped when he slipped into my dribbling, newly-modified snatch - as if I hadn't had 60 different cocks in me over the course of my first year at university. I was permanently tight, though, after mom's gift. And for once, felt a heated wave of desire coursing through me from head to toe when the boy grabbed my hips and began to plow my rippling cheeks.

My hanging C-cups were already flopping wildly, beginning to glisten with sweat when he finally wound my shoulder-length brown curls into his fist and tugged my head back, grunting like a beast tamer.

"You like that?" His voice was punctuated by the slapping of his hips against my ass.

"Y-yes, god..." I was kneading my thick comforter with my fingers like a drugged-out kitten.

"Look at me," he growled, and slipped a hand beneath my throat to arch my face back toward him. My arms dangled and groped the air as his sweating face came into view, upside-down, and he paused his fervent pounding. "Open your mouth," he commanded, with a mischievous look in his eyes.

I obeyed, lips already parted as I tried to keep from hyperventilating with overwhelming arousal. When my mouth was wide, and his fingers tightened around my neck, he pursed his lips and spat onto the back of my tongue.

"Swallow," he said, hazel eyes never leaving my earthy brown ones. I did as I was told, and he said "good girl."

When Jacinda got back from the bar on the strip, carrying her panties in one hand and her scuffed black heels in the other, I was laying under a fresh change of sheets reading a history text. The wet spot from my gushing orgasm with Andres had soaked all the way into the mattress, but there wasn't much I could do about that.

Manny joined me at the university that Fall semester - and by the following one, we were fleeing to Panama, and then, the states.

Chapter 7

Eno River State Park

Durham, North Carolina

September 20, 2069

5:22 P.M.

"These stairs look like they could go at any minute," Manny said, easing down each one behind me like he was prepared to fall through. He always was such a city boy. Not that I was the salt of the earth or anything, but I enjoyed the peace and quiet of nature, when there was any to be found. The shallow, murky river coursed over some rocks failing to obstruct its path at the base of the stairs, surrounded by sparse woods and broad patches of dirt and moss. It was surprisingly warm out still, even with the Autumn breeze - but Manny's friend assured us the temperature would drop quickly as the sun went down.

Boz was a neighbor from our early days in Jersey, and had moved to Durham a little before we entered the league. He and Manny used to smoke weed in the stairwell of our previous apartment all the time, and when he heard we were making a trip down his way he offered his spare rooms to us for an extended stay. We decided to try our hand at some camping first, though - to get some time away from big cities. After some half-assed research, and a slightly irresponsible shopping trip, we packed my brother's big chrome pickup with supplies and hit the road.

We paid for three nights on a plot along the hiking trails, and spent the first hour of our stay figuring out how to assemble the huge tent we'd underestimated the complexity of. I'd bought some new waterproof boots, a windbreaker, and a fur-lined jean jacket - and even an emergency pair of sweatpants, in case the bugs were bad or it really got too cold for bare cheeks. Manny couldn't lower himself to the wearing of flannels or flap-caps, so he was dressed like a lost Californian in his brightly colored hightops and trendy jeans-and-polo combo.

I creaked down the last steps onto the root-blanketed shore of the river, and inhaled deeply with my eyes closed. There was none of the chemical smell of the Delaware - just earthy wetness. And real trees rustled differently than the pseudo ones in the town centers up North. I could even hear animals chittering in the distance, and imagined I was in one of the nature docs I loved to watch at home. A dreadlocked couple hiked by with overstuffed packs on their backs and smiled as they passed. We didn't bring any packs - one of the many oversights we made during our shopping trip. So we just had a big sack of trail snacks and water bottles back at camp that we didn't feel like dragging along on our walk.

"Wonder if they've got any booze in those bags," Manny sniggered after the dread couple was far enough away.

"Probably just kombucha - but that's fermented, right?"

"I legitimately have no idea."

***

We spent a couple hours wandering along the river, picking up sticks and hitting each other with them, and trying to sneak up on birds that were concentrating on prey beneath the water. Then we got hungry, headed back to our campsite, and eventually got a fire going in the little rock ring outside our tent. Manny had insisted on buying the biggest pack of hot dogs he could find, and I had to be the one to throw some veggies and fruit into the cooler as well, lest we try to survive on nothing but processed pork for three days. We kept a couple of the sticks from our pretend sword fights, and used them to roast our weenies over the crackling flames.

Boz wasn't kidding about the sundown chill factor - the temperature must have dropped 15 degrees by the time we got back to camp. The fire felt great, though, and the smoke kept the bugs away, even if I did feel suffocated every time the wind blew it toward me.

"What'd Mackey say when you told him we were leaving town?" Manny asked, rotating his footlong on the end of a thick, snapped twig.

"He said, 'be cayhful down theah, ain't everyone as tohlerant as folks up heah,'" I grinned, lowering my floppy weiner into the flames until it started to bubble from the heat.

"Your impressions are fucking terrible," Manny chuckled. I shrugged.

"He gets it. Even said it might be good for me. What about Jo?"

"Well, apart from asking me to go back to Miami with him instead - pretty much the same."

"Yeah. You gonna survive without any pussy for a few days?" I lifted my twig before it caught fire.

"There'll be plenty in Durham, I'm sure. Boz said so," Manny smirked, checking his meal with his fingers and deciding it was cooked enough for a bite. Boz was a lifelong bachelor. He claimed it was by choice, but I think the girls that did come around just didn't like being second choice after his bong. "You gonna be okay without your new bestie for a while?"

"Lane? Yeah, of course. We're not besties just... she's, cool." I shrugged again. What a girlish response. I was embarrassed for myself.

"Seems like it. You guys are hanging out a lot."

"It's not hanging out, I'm paying her back for the springs - it's part of the sponsorship."

"You don't have to be defensive about it, I think it's good that you're getting out. Spending some time in the world," Manny's yellow eyes seemed to glow in the firelight.

"Yeah. The world. It's something else, huh?"

"Got that right, sister." Manny held his half-eaten weiner out to me on his singed, dirty stick, and I toasted it with mine, almost knocking both off into the flames.

***

The next day we woke up with stiff backs from our first sleeping-bag experience, but the chirping of birds served as our alarm clock instead of the usual hollering of neighbors and beeping of city buses. We ate some fruit medley and talked about a weird-ass dream Manny had involving a naked blonde lady with a gun. Then we set off on the hiking trails. I fashioned a funny shoulder pack out of my sweatpants and stuffed them with granola bars and water bottles, but made Manny carry it so I could take pictures of the scenery with my phone.

The cell service out there was garbage, but that just meant less temptation to stream shows instead of talking to each other. And my camera still worked just fine. None of the shots did any justice to the flowers or canopies of interwoven branches or pink-hued clouds overhead, but I wanted to remember my time there regardless. We ate lunch with our feet swinging over the side of a suspended footbridge, tossing cheese cubes into the water below but not seeing any fish go for them. Manny was peeved when he realized the bridge made his tight khakis all dirty, but he got over it.

We didn't have any fishing equipment, but we watched a father and son cast and reel for a few hours while we chilled against a couple of trees. I ended up with a huge bug bite on my ass that I didn't even feel until it started itching in the tent that night - and Manny kept calling me "sweet cheeks" until I clobbered him with the sweatpants which were still full of snacks. We left the main flap of the tent open with the screen zipped so we could watch the moon, and were both blown away by how many more stars we could see out there.

On the third day we tried some canoeing, and discovered that for a couple of seasoned athletes we had no coordination whatsoever out on the water. It took us two hours to go a short distance along the river - especially since the water was so shallow and Manny's big, bulky body kept causing us to drag against the sand. We broke down camp in the mid-afternoon, and bid farewell to Mother Nature with a scattering of granola crumbs for the birds and squirrels. Then we trundled out of the woods in our shiny electric truck, headed for Boz's house on the outskirts of downtown Durham.

Chapter 8

Colonial Village

Durham, North Carolina

September 23, 2069

2:48 P.M.

Boz had found himself a cute, squat little bungalow in the shady suburbs Northeast of the metro area. He said he was working delivery for some local Mexican spot, and I assumed his deliveries often included a little extra "cilantro" for him to afford a house all by himself. He looked like the same zitty white boy I remembered from back in Jersey, just with a more pronounced belly from all the free work food. He had smudgy, square glasses, and a goofy grin that was as much an aesthetic staple as his incomprehensible graphic tees.

"It's called purple-what?" Manny held the little bong bowl up to his eyes to observe the colorful hairs on the weed nuggets that Boz was so proud of.

"Purple Strawberry Plush - here," Boz took the bowl from my brother and dropped it back into the base of the tall, yellowed bong. Manny placed his mouth against the opening at the top, and inhaled a deep, bubbling breath as Boz lit the cache. It had probably been two years since the last time my brother smoked, and he coughed like an old diesel engine after holding his breath for a moment.

"Jesus," I laughed, sitting on the soft blue couch beside them as they leaned over the coffee table. Manny heaved and thumped his chest, face reddening as he shook his head.

"Too-KHF... fuck... too much," he choke-laughed, as Boz shrugged and lit a toke for himself. The house was relatively undecorated, despite having been occupied for a year and a half. There was a neon sign in the kitchen from some beer brand, and a poster of Angie Whoresall above the pinscreen in the living room. I didn't want to think about how often Boz probably jerked off on his couch.

"So, what's there to do in Durham, Bosley?" I leaned playfully over Manny's lap, teasing the exhaling stoner with a glimpse down my tank top. Not only did he hate being called by his "Christian" name, but I also knew it made him uncomfortable to see me naked for some reason. He'd always refused to come to my amateur matches when he and Manny were hanging out back in Jersey, and he'd always cover his eyes if he was in our place when I got out of the shower.

"Well," he turned conveniently to look out the front windows of the house, "there's an art museum on the Duke campus, and a bunch of good restaurants and bars downtown."

Manny held up a finger at that last part, not quite trusting his ability to form words yet.

"Bars, then?" I said, and Manny nodded, a stupid, intoxicated grin forming on his stubbled face. It was the closest he'd ever gotten to a "mountain man" look, not having had any way to reliably shave while we were in the woods. He'd inevitably clean up before hitting the town that night, though - in case any bar rags needed an autograph, or a good dicking down.

***

Manny and Boz were sharing an inconspicuous little weed vape between bars as we wandered the streets loudly playing a lewd game of I Spy.

"I spyyyy, a tiny dick!" I shouted with tequila on my breath and Manny's arm looped over my shoulder, as I pointed to a preppy buff guy with a popped collar and expensive boat shoes.

"I spyyyy, some natural F-cups!" Manny leered and thrust an arm across Boz's face at a girl across the street.

"Bullshit!" I yelled, leaning over to get a look for myself. The sidewalks were packed with people, and I couldn't pick out the girl he was talking about - huge tits or not - but I did spot a familiar bar name.

SERVE

The giant pink letters flashed on the brick siding above the entrance, and I stumbled to a stop, letting Manny's arm slide over my head and mess up my hair.

"What'zit? Meem?" He reeled around and Boz stopped too, pressing the vape to his lips and pulling another cloud.

"I gotta check something - I'll catch up, okay?" I swept the hair from my eyes and looked at the half-wasted boys in front of me.

"You shouldn't wander around on your own..." Boz looked along the street. He was probably right, I didn't know shit about Durham, but I also needed to do this solo.

"Boz, I could break any guy out here with my ass cheeks if I had to. It'll be fine - I'll call you." Boz looked at Manny, who wavered on his feet like a tube man in a car sales lot.

"Okay. Just... yeah - call us when you're done, we won't go too far." Boz handed Manny the vape, and they continued on down the block. I stepped to the curb and looked both ways, before jogging across the street in my black and yellow windbreaker.

The inside of the little Pet club was bigger than the one in Miami, and the stage was at the back of the space rather than in the center. There were still neon tubes everywhere, with a D.J. booth occupied by an eccentric night-lifer - and of course scores of naked girls slurping and grinding on customers from wall to wall. I shimmied and squeezed through the packed crowd, catching snippets of conversations over the thumping electronica. I wasn't sure what I was looking for, yet, until I saw a soggy flyer beside some spilled drinks on a tabletop.

SEX DRIVE

SEPTEMBER 21-25

FULL STAFF PENETRATION

HOUSE PETS COMPLEMENTARY

DOUBLE TIPS ENCOURAGED

I looked around the roiling mass of bodies to see girls in mesh shirts bent over tables, and girls in assorted collars getting fingered, fucked, and facialized by groups of guys twice their age. Continuing to slip through the crowd, I reached the stage at the back, and saw near the steps a stack of paper collars similar to the ones worn by the new girls at Harley's. They must have been for contests, but I managed to slip one from the stack and into my pocket, before heading to the bathroom.

There wasn't much clothing to ditch, since I only had on my tank top, windbreaker, and new boots - and I craftily stashed them all beneath the trash bag of the can in the handicap stall. In the reflective digi-mirror along the wall, I peeled the protective strip from the pink paper collar, and closed the adhesive against the back to form a lightweight cuff around my throat. It even covered my Battle-brand, so unless there were any major fans out there, nobody was likely to realize who - or what - I really was.

I strode back out into the thick, pulsing atmosphere of the club, where laser lights swept over my bare, strong body and dark-nippled, perky tits. My hair spilled partially over my face as I tilted my head forward and popped my shoulders up - and then, a powerful hum of pleasure filled the background of my mind, coursing through me from head to toe.

"Oh, fuck," I shivered, and tottered forward a step into the back of a server carrying a tray of drinks. She turned and scowled at me, and I apologized shakily. I hadn't felt sensation like that since... well, probably ever. Even before all the cynicism and sexual sport chipped away at my libido, I could only recall a handful of really intense climaxes from genuine arousal. And this was five times that, vibrating through all the cells of my body. Even brushing past people on my way through the dance floor had my knees quaking.

"'Ey! Bambi!" A voice rose above the music and I turned to see a heavy-set Dominican in a white vest curling a finger at me from the bar. He was sat on a big, square stool, flanked by other guys toying with Pets and staff while they knocked back cocktails and shots. I wavered over to him and pressed my palms together over my pussy, trying not to chew my lip.

"Y-yes," I blinked and exhaled quickly like I was having a small contraction.

"That's 'yes sir' - on your knees," he snapped at the sticky bar floor with his ringed fingers, and unzipped his creased white slacks.

"Yes, s-whoo... yes, sir..." I tried kneeling on my own and nearly fell, catching myself on his large thighs and easing down the rest of the way. His fat, uncircumcised cock flopped out against my face, and another shiver tunneled down my spine as the guy grabbed my hair. I opened wide and he fed me his hardening meat, bobbing my head along it as his drink arrived beside him on the bar. He was obviously used to the short-contract commercial Pets with no real skill - who were just regular girls trying to pay off a credit card habit or traffic violation - because he was working me like I'd gag on his paltry 7 or 8 inches. He was sipping his drink and nearly spilled it on himself when I buried my face into his pubes and groaned with a huge throb of pleasure, as his cock flexed in my throat and leaked a thick glob of precum.

"Ay, fuck," he cursed and set his drink down on the counter, grabbing my head like he was going to pull me off, but then grinning. "Fucking hungry, huh? I love this place." He wound both chubby hands into my hair and started flopping my face against his crotch and balls, shaft disappearing down my neck in drooly darkness, as my fingers found my pussy by his feet. All I could hear besides the music was the wet flapping of my throat, and I was seeing colors behind my eyelids like the laser lights were penetrating my brain. After a minute or two the guy shoved my head down and cursed again, in Spanish, jetting hot slime against my tonsils until he was spent.

His four-shot load was like a thimble sip compared to the great white oil spills I was used to in the ring - and I literally felt a pang of disappointment when he let me up to breathe. I needed more. I was tingling with little fires all over my body. The Dominican guy was speechless as I stood from his lap with jizz swinging from my chin and wandered off into the crowd again. It felt like I was on drugs - but the only drug I'd ever really been on was some Ecstasy that Penny gave me once when she and Ren got back from a festival in California. I'd spent most of the night unconsciously rubbing my nipples, then catching myself and feeling embarrassed for some stupid reason.

A blonde guy in a booth seat with two friends caught my arm and pulled me over. There was a slender black Pet bent over the table getting fucked near some baggies of white powder, and the blonde guy wordlessly turned me around and sat me down on his protruding cock. I nearly jumped off his lap from the overpowering rush of endorphins, like a cat dropped onto a snowbank - but he caught my shoulders and slammed me back down. From the full-throated wail that rose out of me you'd think he'd speared me between the lungs, but he wasn't much bigger than the guy at the bar. The fucking pleasure chip was magnifying everything - from the feeling of a cock's size, to the arousal of flesh on flesh, to the taste of cum as it coated the back of my tongue. I felt insatiable.