The Smut Vault

Cam happily followed the invitation rolled Ember's nipple back and forth between her fingers.

"Harder," said Ember.

Cam obliged.

"Yeah," Ember breathed. "Keep doing that." She scrutinized the projected image. "Change her a little more from the source material. Leave the inspiration obvious, but make her technically unique."

Cam blinked, replacing the skipping woman with the same mockup she had made of herself in the coffee shop, now clad in the checkered dress. The cute template kept her face too generic to be truly recognizable, but the long, flattened hair was enough to make Ember smile sideways at her.

"Oh, you're coming with us, are you?" she asked.

"After all this, I sure hope I'm invited," said Cam.

Ember nodded. "You just keep me hot enough to read the directions safely, I'll tell them to you, you hide them in the sex, I'll watch, polish them up a little in my head, and save them to the chip, okay?"

"You got it," said Cam, keeping up the attention on Ember's breast.

Ember tapped her own forearm, prompting a separate, hidden implant to begin glowing with code symbols. "Start from the hospital and go south," she said.

The projected version of Cam was immediately joined by a crowd of nurses and doctors, all of them with similarly short hems, regardless of gender. They fussed over each other for a while with thermometers and tongue depressors, until the sun set in front of them, and they took a left turn onto open road.

"Take the second bridge," said Ember. "Not the first. The second."

That was easy enough. The heroine from the original road trip adventure was due to meet a lonely woodsman. Instead, the projected Cam and her crowd of medical personnel happened upon two of them, both with those cute little shadows of beards that would never grow.

After a brief dance of greeting, the two woodsmen leaned backward into the bridge position, hands and feet on the ground, backs arched, pelvises raised to the sky.

The traveling party evaluated the men, listening to them with the stethoscopes, opening their pants to gently squeeze their testicles and test their erections with blood pressure cuffs.

After a few minutes of consideration, all of the travelers lined up in front of the second of the two woodsmen. One by one, they climbed on top of him, inching forward from his legs toward his arms. Most of the women stopped to use his upward-reaching cock for a few quick thrusts, before making way for the next person in line.

When the last nurse in line had made it all the way to the woodsman's face, she sat there a moment, reaching back with her hand to give him the last few strokes he needed to ejaculate skyward.

The first of the two human bridges remained dry and unused as the party continued down the road beyond.

While the scene played out, Cam slid her free hand down the front of Ember's loose jeans, gently rubbing the folds of her pussy, in time with the rolling of her nipple.

Ember took in a pleased breath and reached for the zipper of Cam's skirt so that she could do the same.

"Next, take the old forty highway for as far as you can," Ember whispered.

The projected Cam turned to address one of the doctors, who happened to look exactly like the cutesy mockup of Ember she'd made, only with an added lab coat.

"That little bounce on the bridge wasn't enough to get you there, was it?" asked projected Cam.

"Of course not," Doctor Ember scoffed. "Do you know anyone who's that easy to please?"

"Maybe not that easy," said projected Cam, ruffling her skirt. "But I bet I could get you where you need to be with forty."

"I'll take that action," said Doctor Ember, sitting down on the curb of the painted street to await projected Cam's best efforts.

Projected Cam lifted up her skirt to straddle Doctor Ember, sliding her hand between them to add targeted pressure to each grinding motion of her hips.

"One," projected Cam counted the strokes. "Two." She lowered the peasant top neckline of her checkered dress to brush her breasts back and forth over Doctor Ember's face. "Three. Four."

Real Cam found the movements of her hand under real Ember's jeans syncing up with their imaginary counterparts. Ember's hand fell into the same rhythm under Cam's skirt.

Moisture gathered on Cam's fingertips as she stroked Ember's outer lips, and on the next pass, she slipped a little deeper between them, rubbing right along the left side of Ember's clit.

As usual, Ember matched Cam's boldness and outdid it, using her thumb to trace Cam's clit, so that her fingers were free to penetrate her at the same time.

"Eighteen. Nineteen," whispered both Cams.

At twenty, the projected Cam turned around in Doctor Ember's lap, grinding backward against her. Her skirt rode up completely as she reached down between her own legs to continue rubbing Ember behind her.

The real Ember reached her free hand behind the real Cam to squeeze her ass through her more confining pencil skirt, feeling the resemblance for herself.

"Thirty-two. Thirty-three."

Doctor Ember's breathing naturally grew shallow, her hips restless, right on schedule. The audience had to see that forty was indeed the way to the finish line, after all.

How closely the real Ember's restlessness matched her imaginary counterpart was more surprising.

At stroke thirty-nine, just as Doctor Ember took in an extra sharp gasp, the real Ember's hand froze under Cam's skirt, and she let go of her ass to grab her wrist instead, holding her still.

"Slow down," Ember panted. "Not yet."

Cam split her focus between the rapturously orgasming Doctor Ember projected on the apartment floor, and the tremblingly unfinished real Ember beside her.

"Are you okay?" Cam asked.

"Too okay," said Ember. "Can you stay sex-mad right after you cum? Keep reality from solidifying in your head? I can't."

"No," Cam admitted, trying to keep any disappointment out of her voice. They were here for something so much bigger than their own momentary enjoyment. Ember was counting on her to remember that. "What's next?"

"They have to follow the old river trench," said Ember. "Follow it down, until they see the red banner."

Within moments, the projected Cam and Ember and the rest of their traveling party happened upon a river. It was the idyllic kind worthy of the fairytale in which they lived, tree-lined and clean. There was nothing about it to remind anyone of the concrete trench with the puddle in the middle that the hospital staff would be traveling down to reach this city. Nothing except the shared word, "river." Hopefully, that would be enough for someone who was already at a crossroads, evaluating the possible ways forward.

The group piled onto a rustic fleet of log rafts, which hung magically still on the steadily moving water, without being tethered.

"Red light green light," the projected Cam announced.

Needing no further explanation, the whole group began to touch themselves, their raft mates, occasionally a friend whose raft was passing close by on the same current. The faster their hands moved, the faster their rafts cut their course downstream between the green trees.

The trees didn't stay green for long.

When the rafts reached the first grove of orange leaves, the travelers put up their hands and sat perfectly still, coasting forward on their momentum, waiting with straining difficulty for the orange to pass and the green to return, so that they could resume their touching.

More stands of green and orange trees passed by, switching back and forth with increasing frequency. At one point, a nurse waited too long to lift her hand from her pussy, and her raft immediately flipped sideways, upside down and right side up again, dunking her through the water.

Delayed orgasms began breaking out with each new stand of green. Soon, most of the group had taken a turn, and were only gingerly continuing to touch themselves while allowed, in order to keep their rafts in motion.

The river took a slight turn, spilling the rafts out of the forest and into a field of bright red flowers.

"Red. Last stop, no more!" projected Cam announced, limping off of her raft and beckoning the others to follow, whether or not they had been satisfied.

Real Cam sympathized with those still wanting. Real Ember's hand had barely moved since she'd asked to slow down, but it was still under Cam's skirt, with two fingers still inside her and the thumb resting on her clit.

"Meet the contact at the Sapphire Lounge," Ember whispered.

"Don't worry," projected Cam told the group, "The best is ahead of us."

An entire sapphire city rose into view on the horizon as the weary travelers stumbled forward.

"Good?" asked Cam, letting the projector go dark.

"Perfect," said Ember, hands stirring into motion again, trying to finger Cam and undo the buttons of her blouse at the same time. "This could really work," she murmured, pulling Cam's skirt all the way down around her knees. "We just have to never remember anything we thought or did or said tonight, without remembering the sex."

"Don't worry," said Cam, kissing Ember's mouth and tumbling forward to lie lengthwise on the couch with her. "I couldn't forget that part if I tried."

***

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