Out of Deep Time

The airship plowed through turbulence, turned into headwinds, and the air pressure changed from time to time, judging by how often his ears popped. For three days he sat in that cage, and every other hour or so, when he was not sleeping, Karris and Gwenbel conversed with him. They talked slowly, building competence in understanding each other. Karris often referred to her book, which she explained was a book of languages. The language the two women spoke to each other was called "Tunge", which simply translated as "the tongue".

The language Aman spoke, Karris said, was "Ancient English", which was a dead language. Luckily for him, Karris was an archeologist, among other things, and had studied ancient languages. She could read ancient English, but had never heard it spoken before. After the third day, she was speaking it conversationally. Finally, after going over a variety of verbs and adjectives a dozen times, he found his eyes wandering along the shapes made by her long legs, and he felt a spontaneous, deep yearning that took him by surprise. He knew he found both Karris and Gwenbel attractive, but he wondered if there were pheromones or some other unseen force at work. He tried to think of something to get his mind away from sex.

"Where are you taking me?" He asked her.

"Taking?" She asked. She pulled her glasses off, and seemed to consider the meaning of the word. It was the first time he had seen her without her reflective glasses. She stared off to the side with lavender eyes, deep in thought. "Su! Gêse...'to take', acting in now." She looked back to him, meeting his gaze as she had many times, but only now could Aman see her eyes the way she saw his. "We take you." She said it with intense certainty.

"Yes, but where?"

"South."

"And what will I see in the south?"

"Land of Long Shadow. Home."

"You are taking me to your home?"

"Gêse. For study."

"Study...." Aman wondered if he was going to spend the rest of his life being treated like a laboratory animal. "Do you have family at home?"

"Family...fruma, gêse, I have...fêracenni and fêraunucenni—ah—mothers and mothers of my mothers."

"No father?"

Karris stared at him with a thoughtful expression, a hint of humor in her eyes. She leaned forward in her chair and seemed to consider what to say. Finally, she said: "No fathers. Only mothers. All have only mothers."

"I don't understand. Are there no men?"

"No magodegn," she answered. "Aman is only one."

"But, how can mothers have children with no men?"

She laughed at that. Her laugh was luscious as dark chocolate, and she shook her head, said: "Fêra make aeg whole with half of blood-song." She gestured with her hands as if she were accepting something being given then holding it against her belly.

Aman understood. They fertilized their eggs by splicing DNA. His mind swarmed with questions.

"Why are there no men?" He asked.

"Intinga...the cause, it is law. Many hund' ago, life was very hard. Many people, little food. Law said that to force not have children was wrong, but populous need limit. Medicine make only have fêra. Fêra not need magodegn to make new blood-song. After war, no more magodegn."

Aman leaned back against the cage bars. If he understood her correctly, he was the last man on Earth. He noticed Karris was looking at him in a ponderous, sidelong way.

"You have never seen magodegn before me?" He asked her.

"I have seen tîfrung." She held up her notebook, showed him a sketch of his likeness, including his genitals, though it looked like she had erased and redrawn that part many times.

"Pictures," he said. "Well, what do you think of the real thing?"

"I think you very strange," she answered with a genuine smile. "It is late. I go make boat ready for sleep."

Karris joined Gwenbel at the helm and they found a good sheltered canyon to anchor the airship for the night.

Aman knew the ship had a shower, because he had heard the women using it. He hoped to use it himself. A sponge bath only did so much. Being in the presence of these women churned something in him, and his pores smoldered with pheromones.

It was only with much plaintive asking that the women agreed to let him use their shower, but only with supervision. After he ate his portion of peppery soup and dense, oily bread, they escorted him to the small washroom. There was only enough room for one of them to stand watch, so Karris stood outside in the corridor and left the door open.

Aman stripped in the copper shower stall, which had no door or curtain. He kept his back to Gwenbel as she leaned against the sink counter, watching him. He glanced over his shoulder at her a couple times, and each time she stopped making a silly face at him and feigned innocence. He kept his gaze on her, then, and gave her a look that said he was wise to her shenanigans. She mocked him by dangling her pinky finger from her skirted crotch.

That was it, Aman thought. If she wanted to sexualize him, he would embrace it. He lathered himself up with soap, gave her a smoky gaze, and leaned back against the shower wall, mimicking her stance. He stroked his soapy skin. She arched her eyebrow and looked, then gave an expression that seemed to pity him. But he only had to think of the tattoos on her thighs, and imagined how far up they might go. He found her to be an exotic creature who's playfulness had aroused his imagination. This, combined with the warm cascade of water on his crotch and his own sensuous touch, caused him to swell. He was not hard, yet, but his manhood tripled in length and doubled in girth.

The increasing size of his penis seemed to come as a surprise to Gwenbel, for she gaped in astonishment. She glanced to the open door to see if Karris had noticed. She had not; she was reading a book. Aman believed he had made his point, so he made a soft grunt of satisfaction and turned away to finish washing up. Gwenbel didn't say anything about it to Karris, at least not that Aman could tell, and he was soon escorted back to his cage. He began to wonder if he had gone too far, and he worried that Gwenbel wouldn't tease him anymore. He was growing to enjoy it.

It was a quiet night with gentle winds, but a heatwave swept through. It had happened the day before, but not at night. During the day the women had piloted to higher altitude where the air was cool, but this heat wave caught them while they were asleep. Aman began to sweat under his blanket, so he threw it off. He was still too warm, so he removed the stretchy pants Karris had given him. Laying naked on his blanket was just right, and he found it easy to sleep with the gentle swaying of the vessel as it tugged against its anchor cable. His dreams veered into erotic territory featuring the blue-eyed women from his patchy memories. It might have even been a memory of something that actually happened, once, long ago.

Suddenly, he stirred from his sleep and woke to the sound of quiet sighs near his cage. It was Gwenbel, seated in a chair, in the dark, with her hand between her rosy, milk-striped thighs. She was wearing a shirt, but apparently nothing else. Aman was instantly aware of his erection, which lay in a beam of moonlight upon his belly in full glory as a reminder of his erotic dream. Gwenbel noticed the change in his breathing, and she stopped moving her hand. Both she and he suddenly held themselves still and silent in the dim light that shone through the circular windows of the chamber, caught in embarrassment.

"Gwenbel?" Aman asked, breaking the tense silence.

"Ah—Aman," she answered quietly, "Welgedôn aefentîd."

"Um, welged—good evening to you, too."

"S—Sê swîdlic," She stated with a nervous chuckle and fanned her face with her free hand.

"Yes, it is hot." He sat up and pulled the blanket over to cover himself.

"Bîdan..." Gwenbel pleaded in gentle protest, then pointed to the budge in his blanket, said: "danc me lôc?"

"Let you...?"

"Lôc," she said, and gestured to her eyes.

Aman pushed himself to his feet, still holding the blanket against his waist, astonished at what was happening. Was this more than scientific curiosity, he wondered? He did not imagine Gwenbel would be angry with him if he refused her request, but a very aroused part of him wanted to see where this was going. He let the blanket fall to the floor.

His manhood jutted out unabashedly in the moonlight that slanted into the room, and Gwenbel's dilated pupils drank in the sight with renewed wonder.

"Yfel handlian wel spêdig," she mused, and she finally removed her hand from between her legs. She propped her feet up and hugged her knees. "Dêow ârfaestnes scearpe spêdig. Dêow hlêotan glêam?"

Aman gave her a polite smile and shook his head. He had learned a little of their language, but she was speaking too fast. His erection began to droop as he diverted power to his brain.

"Glêam," she pronounced it long and luscious, and undulated her hips with a little push from her legs.

Aman's eyes widened and his erection heightened again. He looked over his shoulder to check if Karris might be watching from the hallway.

"Karris slêap," Gwenbel assured him, and she slid out of her chair.

She stepped close to the cage. Her ruddy skin was incredible and mysterious in the deep shadows of the room. She was indeed only wearing the white shirt, which draped over her grapefruit-sized breasts, and the bottom hem of it brushed against a narrow strip of short, platinum fuzz on her mound. It was barely visible in the dim light, along with her sleek, white stripe tattoos that adorned her calves and outer thighs.

Gwenbel smiled nervously and whispered a little laugh. She beckoned to him with a curled finger. Aman stepped forward until there were only inches between them, with the cage bars in the middle. Her eyes fixated on his manhood, and she slowly let her fingers pass between the bars and touched it. Her fingertips were wet.

It twitched at her slight touch, and she let out a little gasp of surprise, then smiled with delight as she took in the sight of what she had never seen before.

"Sweglbeorht!" She whispered happily, then slid her fingertips back and forth across the length of him. She let her hand close over him and tugged gently. Aman groaned pleasurably, keeping his voice low. He wanted to touch her in return, and began to reach between the bars, but she stepped away, letting her hand slip from him.

Aman's flesh cried out for the return of her touch, but he stepped back as well, not wanting to seem threatening.

"Sorry," he said. "Willes êow...um....will you let me?" He presented his hands.

Gwenbel seemed to consider the proposition, and seemed enticed yet hesitant. She shook her head and began to walk slowly towards the door, but she seemed to second guess each step. Aman gripped the bars in front of him and pressed his forehead against the metal with a sigh. Gwenbel stopped at the sound of his breath and turned. She looked down at his erection again, bit her lip with some secret thought, then returned to the bars with a smile. He smiled back as she slid her hands under her shirt, hiking it up to show her belly. She cupped her breasts under the cloth and massaged them, squeezing her soft, rose-toned skin between her fingers. She leaned close, her eyes dancing with his in the moonlight, and pressed her chest against the steel that separated her from him. With a slight movement, she rubbed her breasts against the bars, and her nipples instantly perked against the fabric.

Aman fit his hands between the bars and touched the flatness of her stomach, then pushed them up under her shirt to slide over her hands on her breasts. She removed her hands to let him explore. Her orbs were incredibly soft and supple, and he pressed his palms against them. In the dark, his sense of touch seemed heightened. He kneaded and pressed them together until a clear, silky droplet dewed at the tip of his hard cock, which stood alert and waiting. Gwenbel made some "M" sounds and returned her hand to his erection.

She lifted one leg, propping it up against the cage with a flexibility that impressed and aroused him even more, and he glanced down at the delineation of her intimate petals in the dark. She gripped the bars and waited with quiet, heavy breathing. She looked into his eyes in the dim light, and the spark that he saw ringing in her wide pupils conveyed a rush of excitement of the like that overtakes one's body like a euphoric drug. He pressed his forehead to the cage and brought his lips close to her's, adding another layer of intimacy and tasting her breath. She smelled of citrus and peppercorns.

She graced his lips with a kiss that began slow, building nuance. He rocked his hips forward against the bars as they probed each other with their tongues, and she shifted her hips from side to side, nudging his erection with her inner thighs until the tip of his manhood touched her soft, downy stripe of fur. She broke the kiss and looked into his shadowy eyes as she nudged herself closer. She drew in a long, soft gasp at the intense sensation that grew as the top of his erection slid under the outer folds of her vulva. It felt electrifying, beyond anything either could remember, and the smell of their bodies intoxicated them with yearning. She wiggled her waist, squirming her slick outer folds on his hot flesh yet preventing him from finding her entrance. Using her leg propped high on the bars, she pushed back her hips, away from his delving.

She smiled seductively at him as she lowered her leg, letting her foot brush over the bars on the way. She turned to the table and grabbed up a mug, taking a long drink. It gave him a moment to appreciate her backside, which was also adorned with white stripes, and he wiped a bead of sweat from his brow.

She set the mug down and returned to the cage with a saunter which, with her white stripe tattoos, gave her a powerful, tiger-like presence. She proceeded to climb up onto the bars of the cage and gripped the frame across the top, then spread her toned legs as if they were wings about to take flight. Her toes found purchase against the bars, and she used all four limbs for full control of her position.

Aman grinned like a fool in bliss, and reached through the bars to caress the smooth skin under her thighs and back to the cheeks of her rear.

"Tease," he accused playfully.

"T¯aesan," Gwenbel replied wryly.

He didn't know what she had said, but he liked her tone. He pressed his hips to the bars and came up on his toes, searching for that electric feeling again. She held herself just out of his reach, delighting in the torment of her prisoner. He relented and lowered himself back to the balls of his feet, then began brushing himself against her thighs, offering an inviting expression.

She dipped her pelvis down, letting her arms straighten and hinging on her widely-arched legs. She let each of her feet slip out to the next bar, which split her legs wider and brought her buttock a little closer in. He reflexively moved to catch her, even though her grip was sure, and they smiled together as she let his hands settle where her lower cheeks met her thighs.

Their lips met again, and her hips dipped forward more, kissing the tender flesh on his tip with her wet folds in the sweltering heat. He could feel her nipples poking into his chest through her damp shirt as she pressed her breasts against the bars. They breathed in together as she spread her labia over the top of his sensitive foreskin with a quavering of her hips, her slick cream anointing his taught flesh.

Finally, he slipped the head of his eager love member into her inner canal and rocked himself back and forth, his hips lightly bumping the bars, allowing only a shallow passage. Gwenbel's rosy cheeks flushed to a darker red, and she pulled her head back from their kiss and sucked in fresh oxygen. She squirmed her waist and relished the luxuriant dance of their most intimate parts, their slickness audible in the darkness. Her teeth came out in a smile as she became enraptured by a primal sensation that no finger, tongue, or dildo had ever came close to touching. Her shirt began to stick to her skin as it became wet with their sweat in the muggy air, and she could feel the firmness of the metal bars against her nipples more through her shirt.

They rubbed their noses together as they pressed their heads and upper bodies against the anchor of the cage while their hips jolted helplessly against the bars, which limited how deep he could reach within her. The head of his manhood was almost completely released from her slippery canal each time she eased back, and her inner walls seemed to squeeze and grip the sensitive prow of him in parting before embracing him again. One of her feet slipped, and he caught her leg as it fell against his grip under her upper thigh. It swiveled her hips askew, and the tip of his manhood pressed against her inner walls in a new, exquisite way. As he continued to move inside her, the top of his hot flesh stroked back and forth against the nub of her clit, and she made a surprised, apprehensive sound, then again, louder.

Aman knew she was close to climax, and so was he. Still, he kept their rhythm, and he felt a coiling tension at the base of his cock.

"I'm—" He began to announce his impending eruption, but at that moment Gwenbel came, and her voice rose over his. Even so, she realized what he was telling her. She must not get pregnant, she reminded herself! If she had an unsanctioned pregnancy, she did not know what would happen, as it had not happened in countless generations. She pushed away from the bars, and her leg slipped from its high perch, but the chair was behind her. She stumbled against the chair, which toppled over, then she followed suite and crashed sideways to the floor with a thud.

Aman teetered on the verge of cumming, but he clenched the pressure within and the moment passed. "Gwenbel?" He whispered loudly. "Oh my god, are you alright?"

"Gêse!" She whispered back, and she gathered herself up. She darted her gaze to the corridor. "Karris waeccan fûslic."

Aman realized she was afraid they might wake Karris, and he nodded, said: "You're right, we got carried away. This is all just...happening so fast—" He fell silent when she swiveled and pulled his head against the bars, then placed a kiss against his lips. Then she bounded away with soft footfalls, and slipped back into her room. Just as her door closed, another one opened, and the red corridor light was flicked on.

Aman quickly hid himself under his blanket and pretended to be asleep. After a few moments, he felt a presence near him, and it stayed.

"Aman," Karris addressed. He flinched, and it was no use trying to pretend to be asleep. He turned towards her, but kept his blanket on. His erection had not yet subsided.

He looked up at her. At once he pushed himself up into a sitting position, startled by what he saw. The freckles on Karris' face and arms were glowing a lustrous emerald color, as if there were fireflies the size of pin pricks scattered across her features. He caught his breath, said: "Hello, Karris."

"Sê dâ de swêgdynn? What is this noise?" She had her arms crossed, holding a paper-thin robe about her body. She wasn't wearing her glasses, and her lavender eyes shone with reflected moonlight, like a creature of the night.

"Sorry, um, 'sorig'. I was having a...loud dream."

"Blêoh slûma?" She said quizzically, and she turned to look at the toppled chair. Aman winced. She righted the chair, then brushed her hand against the seat of it. She felt wetness there, and she shot a glance toward the corridor with a fierceness in her gaze that made the moonlight in her eyes flash with turbulence.

She pulled the chair up close to the cage and sat in it, her back straight and her legs poised together. He could see more glowing freckles on her feet and calves. She regarded him with a fierceness that smoldered. He could only guess at what emotions lay just beneath the surface. He felt frozen with fearful apprehension in the triple-digit heat. He waited for her to speak.