Lakepolly

As Martin and I make our way through the center of Lakepolly, I excitedly point out the various attractions. There are the manufactories, of course. The open area where the council occasionally meets and conducts public forums. The building housing Auto's core, one of the few fully enclosed structures. Warrens of sleeping rooms, showers, and dining areas.

We pass many people along the path, men and women I do not recognize even by face. They pay us little attention. Lakepolly is odd like that--so populated that it is impossible for all of its residents to know each other, not to mention the presence of many visitors from neighboring pollies at any given time. Strangers here are largely ignored, not waylaid and greeted at every step as they would be in any other polly.

I glance over at Martin while I'm talking about an oak tree in the center of a nearby yard that has been under cultivation for nearly a thousand hundreds. The edges of his lips are quirked upward in an indulgent smile and his eyes shine as he stares at me.

"You look as though you are thinking of some private joke," I say. "I hope I am not that joke."

His face turns a little guilty. "You? Never!" He pauses. "It's just...the place where I grew up on Earth. It had over twenty million people living there. Buildings that rose over a kli--er, kayem into the sky. The entire city occupied an area greater than all the land inside this cylinder." His arms spread out blueward and redward.

I am staggered. "I can't imagine the scale! That must have been the greatest city on Earth. The center of governance?"

"Hardly. It wasn't even the largest city on the continent. There were others far larger...Planets are just big like that."

I nod my head sagely. Auto has told me about the dimensions of Earth when I asked, but cold numbers do not make for an easy visualization. "So for you, Lakepolly--indeed, all of this--must seem very small."

"A little bit, yeah. Still bloody massive compared to what I normally picture for the term 'spacecraft'."

We've reached the shoreline of the Great Lake. To our left, those on fishing duty are rowing their coracles up to the dockworks and unloading today's catch. To our right for a couple hundred ems sits the recreational shoreline where dozens of people are laid out upon the sandy ground, relaxing or fucking or preparing to enter the water.

I remove my utilities and boots, placing them far enough from the shore that they will not be splashed. My hair tie follows, and I shake out my dark brown locks, letting them fall over my shoulders. Then I wade into the water, sighing in contentment at the coolness against my skin. After several paces, I am already enveloped up to my bubs. The Great Lake does not go much deeper, only about two ems depth at its center.

When I turn around, I realize Martin has not followed me. He still stands on the shore, watching. "Please go ahead," he calls. "Enjoy yourself. I can wait."

I giggle and drop my head beneath the surface of the water. It is such a rare treat for me to be able to submerge myself like this, to be around so much water all at once, really. I splash about carefree...for a while. Then other emotions begin to creep in, a sense of...loneliness? I glance back at the shoreline, where Martin is still regarding me avidly. I cannot help feeling neglectful of my guest, especially as I notice his cock engorged once more.

I crawl from the water on my hands and knees, approaching Martin. Droplets fall from my bubs, my thighs, the clumped ends of my hair draping down over my shoulders and arms, spattering the sand beneath me. Martin sees me coming, and his face roils with emotion. "Marissa, what...what are you doing?"

I grasp his cock with my right hand, just below the head. "This--" I say firmly, "this cannot be healthy, being erect all the time with no relief. Let me help you." I crane my head so that my eyes meet his. "Please." I stroke him once. He shudders, but does not object. I stroke several more times, feeling his heart rate quickening beneath my fingers.

When I attempt to lick his tip, a hand pushes back against my forehead. I look up once more. "You told me that sex needs to mean something to you," I say quietly. "I could not agree more. But I think it can mean something without having to mean everything." I hold his gaze for a moment, which stretches into two, then three, then a seeming eternity. Finally, his hand drops back to his side, an acquiescence.

I swipe my tongue one way across his prominent head, then the other, tasting his salty musk. I find a similar flavor along the underside of his shaft, and covering his balls, which I briefly pull down with my lips, giving each a short suck before returning to envelop his tip with my mouth. My saliva washes away all traces of his scent. I push in, taking more and more of him inside. When his head pushes against the entrance to my throat, I relax my muscles and allow entry. All this time, my tongue continues to swat playfully against his shaft, and my right hand moves up and down quickly along the small portion of his cock that remains beyond my pursed lips.

"Marissa..." Martin says, his voice low, urgent. "Marissa, it's coming."

I suck all the harder, my tongue and hand never ceasing in their movements. Martin groans, his cock throbs, and I feel the spurts of semen pouring down my throat, headed for my stomach. I do not detach until his cock has fully released and begun to soften. Then I fall back, my wet butt impacting with the sand beneath me. I cough a couple of times before smiling at Martin, who appears blissed-out and confused and rueful all at once.

"That was a fine appetizer," I say, "but it's nearly dark. Perhaps we should seek out some real food?"