Love in a Changed World Ch. 06

Chapter 6

I.

There was light.

It was daytime when I awoke alone in the giant bed of the master suite. Well into the day from the angel of the tropical sun coming in through the window. Nearly noon for the looks of it.

My mouth was dry. How did I end up here? I remembered drifting off in the double chaise lounge. It definitely remembered what happened before that. The answer was obvious. Someone carried me here -- certainly not too great a feat for either of the amazons I could hear downstairs. Likely they both brought me up here. I was dressed in some lightweight tropical short pajamas. They must have cleaned me up. I should be sticky - crusted with dried sweat and other emanations, but I wasn't.

I had to pee.

I started to sit up but was met by a wave of pain from my hips and abdomen. I lifted the waist of the shorts. There was bruising from the tops of my thigh to my belly button. My penis was an angry reddish purple -sensitive to every touch, but not painfully. "Nadia," I said to no one, "Good lord." I shifted around and stood despite the pain. It got a little better with each step toward the bathroom. I stood in front of the toilet, reached down gingerly to lift the lid. I stood there waiting for the urine to flow. It took a second and a little extra force. It was painful to urinate. Not pain like a bladder infection. Pain like the urine burning some damaged tissue. I remembered the force my male parts needed to generate to ejaculate against the amazing power of Nadia's unchecked lady bits. Something must a have been hurt in my urinary tract. A "retrograde ejaculation" was the term that passed my mind. Semen blocked from exiting with enough force could press its way through the one-way valves that shut off a man's urinary tract from his reproductive apparatus. I'd read an article on it in some doctor's waiting room. It was an increasing problem, apparently. The reason for that was obvious to me after the events of last night. The cloudy, blood-tinged urine confirmed my diagnosis.

And I'm not even that kind of doctor.

Speaking of injury, I held up my right hand. The dislocated fingertip had been placed back -- one of the girls taking advantage of my being blacked out to pull it back into place. I flexed the fingers into a fist. There was pain, but everything worked. I hadn't put a finger into a girl's ass since that one girl in college -- what was her name -- begged me to a little too much. After what Pudge's asshole did to my index finger, it would definitely require a clear invite for me to try to do so again.

My urination stopped in a pathetic dribble of blood. That was something to look forward to for a couple of days if the doctor's office magazine was to be believed. I pulled up my shorts, took a terrycloth robe from a hook, donned it, and headed toward the sounds from the kitchen.

The sounds and the smoke.

My wife could build a computer from the wires up. She could load and run that computer with operating systems and software of her own creation. After that, she could sell that computer at a huge profit. Moreover, she could emplace people and systems to do that over and over again with ridiculous efficiency. She could also beat me to a pulp without breaking a sweat, and she would too if I made fun of the one thing she could not do.

Cook.

I got to the kitchen just after Pudge deployed the fire extinguisher. Whatever had been on the menu for brunch was now just charred remains with a casserole dish for a funerary urn. It would be up to the medical examiner to determine the cause of death.

I looked at my wife's obvious pain at the one thing she couldn't create -- breakfast.

"It's okay, dear," I said, putting my arm around her sitting down on at the counter next to her, "That casserole is in a better place now. It's up to us, the living, to find a way to trudge on." That got me a just-harder-than-loving jab to my already sore ribs.

I looked over Nadia and Pudge. Nadia had on her bright royal blue one-piece Speedo with a loose-fitting pair of athletic shorts riding low over her delightful ass for unnecessary around-the-house modesty. She usually wore bikinis around the beach. I thought of this one-piece, while not unpleasant to the eyes, as her "business" suit; she wore it when her activity was more for exercise than leisure or fashion. Pudge wore a similar type suit, but in red and without the shorts. That it was part of her company's new line of performance athletic wear was an easy guess as it had "JILL" in white block letters curving across her more compact muscle-dimpled butt. She caught me looking as she turned to bring cereal bowls and the couple of boxes of cereal that were now the brunch menu. "Like what you see, sport?" she said in the mocking tone she reserved for me.

She did not mean the cereal.

I blushed unnecessarily and reflexively -- that ass, sans swimsuit, ground my face senseless fewer than eight hours ago. Pudge put both boxes on the counter. She plopped a bowl in front of Nadia; then one in front of me. "I know you do" She said with a wry smile. Taking my chin gently in one hand and the fingers of my right hand that had been resting flat on the counter in her other, she leaned across the counter. She brought her lips near my right ear and whispered breathily but with quiet authority, "And the next thing you stick in my ass without an invitation, you won't get back. You hear me, sport?" She smiled and gave my fingers a subtle strong squeeze. I started to pull my hand away but couldn't break her grip. I nodded my avowed acquiescence, and she set me free. She turned around to retrieve the milk from the fridge as I flexed my achy fingers.

"So what's with the business suits?" I asked changing the subject quickly.

Nadia answered coming out a fog which I interpreted as her running a mental analysis of what went wrong with her brunch casserole, "We went for a swim to burn off the last of last night's effects." I was happy to hear that. They probably went to bed after our world-shattering romp by the hot tub, but, in all likelihood, they'd only slept a few hours -- I was out for eight solid and felt like I could use eight more. That they spent their energies swimming instead of fucking each other's brains out without me was the best possible news. I caught the smell of salt, not chlorine in Nadia's hair.

"In the ocean?" I asked.

"Yeah, and the Gulf of Mexico. We went out a bit, then around the point, around Sunset Key and back." Nadia said. "An hour and a half well spent." The mental math tallied in my head. Just about six miles in 90 minutes would have had them winning the men's open water marathon swim at the last Olympics with time to be out of the shower and dressed before the first man swam across the finish line.

Shaking my head, I countered, "There's sharks out there, you know?"

Pudge brought back the milk, "It's fine, sport, we left them alone." We had the obligatory laugh over Pudge's joke, though, from what I'd seen so far, the sharks were lucky the girls weren't in more of mood for a fight.

"Speaking of the ocean," Nadia segued, "Jules and I are gonna go out with a dive group this afternoon. I think it's the Vandenberg wreck" (an old missile tracking ship sunk offshore as an artificial reef) "The plan is for and afternoon dive, dinner on the boat, then a night dive," Nadia paused, "We probably won't be back until late. I assume you'd rather not, but you are welcome..."

God bless this girl. She had to know I needed a break. Their female bodies might chew up booze and drugs, provide them with limitless sexual energy, and need only a scant bit of rest, but my male body needed time to recover. I was never a fan of scuba diving. I've no need to go anywhere I need to take my own air.

Also, like recreational drug use, if less common, scuba diving was one of those activities that was best not shared between men and women since "the change". It was as much a matter of convenience as safety, but more than a few male divers went under with women and didn't come back up. Women, as Nadia and Pudge's morning swim demonstrated, now swam a lot faster and a lot farther without tiring than men. They also used less air as they did. A woman diving in open water usually got about 150% of the time out of the same air tank as a man. Women's bodies were also a lot tougher than men's, so they could dive deeper, ascend faster, and withstand colder water temperatures.

None of these made a man scuba diving with woman inherently dangerous to the man's health. It did make a mixed sex dive a little less fun for the woman who had to confine herself to swim distances, speeds, dive times, and depths set by the man. The danger, like in most such things, stemmed from the limited ability of some men to contain their own egos. Scuba guys were intense about their hobby and always sought new extremes. For an experienced male diver, seeing a female tourist dive deeper or longer was sometimes too much. They pressed the limits to keep up, and limits pressed are easily exceeded -- often with tragic results for the man.

Nadia knew I'd pass -- could pass without it seeming like it was because I was bruised, battered, and wrung out -- and have the whole afternoon to rest and recover. "Gosh, that sounds great, but you know how I am about diving. Besides, I'd just be a drag on your fun. I think I'd just pick up around her and find a good book to read." I had no plans for reading anything but the inside of my eyeballs. I was planning to be passed out by the pool by the time they walked on the boat.

My day, as it turned out, would not be any more restful than my night had been.

II.

The girls and I cleaned up breakfast and I went up to the bedroom to kick off my relaxing afternoon. I was lounging in a recliner next to the bed when Nadia came into the bedroom. She was talking on her cell. It was work. It was normal for us to be away and work to call with whatever dumb problem. She was pretty critical to the operation there, and she preferred they call her than screw up something worse. I could only hear her side of the conversation. "No Fred, that won't work. It sounds like you'll need to go back through the base code. The algorithm isn't sorting the way it should." Nadia paused while the voice on the other end countered; she started again with more computer talk that I didn't understand. Apparently, neither did Fred judging from the cadence of the response. Nadia reframed what she had said. Fred still wasn't getting it. Nadia was getting frustrated, "Fred, this is cutting end stuff, have you ever done this sort of thing before?" There was long pause, then what sounded like increasingly desperate explanation from the other end of the line. Exasperated, Nadia cut him off as she walked into the bathroom, "Fred," she sighed, "is there a woman there I can talk to."

Nadia came back the bedroom and put her phone on the dresser. The conversation was over, and, probably, so was Fred's career. Nadia was as accommodating as anyone might be, but she'd let more than a few men go from her project team when they couldn't cut it. She was working on pretty heavy stuff and couldn't ease anyone along who couldn't keep up. These days, that was mostly guys. She was still in her one-piece and shorts but pulled out a Lycra swim shirt with a dark blue, black, and white print and selected set practical black bottoms -- She had a lot of bathing suits and looked amazing in all of them.

"I'm really glad we came to Key West instead of Hawaii," I observed. Of course her family maintains a large suite of rooms at The Royal Hawaiian. We were originally planning to go there. We changed plans about a week after Nadia and I had our "talk" in the living room. She thought it would be better to come here were we'd have the run of the place rather than a room in the tower on Waikiki. I like that it wasn't as far to fly.

"Uh, yeah," Nadia relied going through her clothing for something.

"I mean, if we hadn't then we wouldn't have been here to support Pudge," said, "Or had last night." I thought on that, "Sometimes things just work out, I guess." Nadia slipping out of her shorts stopped my wonderment at the confluences of the universe.

Man.

That ass.

Period.

Full stop.

She knew I was looking. She sure had a way of changing a subject. "Sure you won't miss me while I'm gone," she asked as she leaned on the bed facing away from me. She swayed lustily moving that amazing ass back and forth raising first one cheek than the other the shiny blue fabric of her Speedo suit catching he light in the most incredible way as she moved. She looked over her shoulder at me. "Maybe, I should leave you something to remember me by." She turned off the bed going to the floor on her hands and knees. She crawled to her right, then her left; she was angling toward me like a predator. She moved closer with each turn; her eyes locked to mine. My stirring member, not sensing the danger was growing steadily stiffer, and the predator stalked ever nearer.

It was throbbing by the time she reached my chair. She put her hands on my thighs and rubbed the inside of each. "Assuming you're up to it," she offered. I doubted that I was, but my raging dick was clearly ready to try. I nodded. She brought herself up to my lips. The soft silkiness of her suit across the tip of my hard on that as it poked out through the fly of my pajama shorts. I shuddered with the sensation as she put her lips to mine with softness at first and then with the hunger of the predator. Her tongue plunged in my mouth as my hands went to her waist. She grabbed my arms and slammed my hands to the arms of the chair with commanding force. "No touching for you," she admonished breaking the kiss. She pulled off my shorts and ripped open my shirt. Clearly, she was allowed to touch. This vacation was becoming as tough on my wardrobe as it was my body.

She stood and turned. She slowly lowered herself onto my lap, my swollen dick pressing the slick fabric of her suit into the crack of that ridiculous ass. She started to slowly grind on my dick. It felt amazing. I started breathing more rapidly. She had to know that this would pull a load from my balls in a few seconds. I reached around her, brought my hand to her large breasts, and squeezed. She grabbed my hands and again pushed them down restraining them more forcibly against the chair arms. I fought her a little this time just to see what would happen. It made little difference -- I'm not even sure she noticed. She turned her head over her shoulder and spoke, "I said. No. Touching."

She emphasized her order by clenching her ass against my boner. It was nothing compared to the force of her involuntary vaginal contractions of last night, but my cock was a lot more sensitive now. I also didn't know if she was applying all the force she could. I didn't want to find out and knew if she wasn't, my poor friend down there would pay the price. I muttered a weak, "Yes, ma'am," in abject surrender.

The grinding sped up. I could feel my dick moving against her suit and parting the lips of her pussy. Nadia moaned pushed against me with increasing force and friction. I started to tense as I had before in an effort to stave off the blast but recognized the futility of any kind of resistance to Nadia when she was determined to bring me off. Still, the girl deserved a warning. I was panting, "Na, Na, Nadia, I'm gonna cum." I know she heard me. Either that or she decided that this was as good a time as any to pick up her pace. A few seconds passed, and I tried again, "I'm gon -- ". The first spasm started before I could get the words out. My first thought, comically, was of the cleaning the chair would require.

As it turned out, my concerns were unwarranted. Faster than I could register, Nadia was off my lap and on her knees. She had her mouth on my cock before the cum from the first spasm shot out anywhere but her throat. She sucked and sucked milking me completely dry with her mouth while working the shaft with her hand. I was dizzy with pleasure. I lost count of how many times I spasmed with orgasm. I was spent, but Nadia was not.

She held the shaft with her hand and continued her relentless sucking. My cock was sensitive beyond my ability to explain. My head was beyond reason. It was becoming overwhelming. I moved my hands to her shoulder and tried to push her away. She was immovable, but at least noticed. She paused at the top of a stroke, lifted her mouth, and said without looking up, "You're not done until I'm done," She moved her hand to her crotch and started fingering herself, "Or you can try to stop me." With that, her mouth was back on me sucking and swirling her tongue as she moaned from the pleasure she was giving herself.

My cock was raging with sensitivity. I could feel every subtle pressure she gave with mouth, the bumps on her tongue, and the occasional gently scrape of her teeth. It was overwhelming. I leaned forward trying to stand. Nadia brought her hand up to my chest and slammed me back into the chair. She held me there with one hand while bringing herself to climax with the other. As she peaked, I could feel my balls starting to spasm again. She came quietly but perceptibly this time. I was less quiet. I let out a primal scream as the Nadia swallowed the product of my second orgasm.

Nadia crested her own orgasmic wave. She lifted her mouth off my dribbling cock. She gave the tip a peck with those soft lips. Holding it with one hand and standing, she gave it a final squeeze and gave me a salty kiss. "That should hold you until we get home."

I managed to retain consciousness but watched her change in a haze. It was only just clearing as she pulled a pair of shorts over her swimsuit bottoms, gave me another kiss, and left to meet Pudge in the courtyard for their walk to the docks.