A not-so-quick journey

Someone is rubbing my upper arm gently. I open my eyes. Martin's smiling face comes into focus above me, and far beyond him--the sunstrand only beginning to wax.

"Good morning," I groan, shifting against the rumpled bedsheets.

Martin chuckles. "Damn, Marissa, you went out like a light! Do you always fall asleep so easily?"

I yawn and pull myself to a sitting position, running fingers through my unruly hair. "No, that is unusual. Perhaps not unexpected, though, after so much walking." I look back up at him. "But you are looking much better now, Martin."

"Thanks. I feel much better. A good night's sleep is just what I needed apparently." He flashes a wry smile. "I guess the last five thousand years didn't count."

I yawn again. There's a distinctive smell in the air, somewhat like the musk of our unwashed bodies, but more intense, concentrated. I wrinkle my nose, and my gaze falls on the covering around Martin's hips, the fabric he's been wearing for nearly a day as he's sweated and leaked emissions from his erect tool. He can see the realization falling across my face, and his own face reddens visibly.

"Yeah..." he says. "My sleep shorts are getting pretty rank, aren't they? I don't...I don't suppose you people have a need for washing clothes?"

I gesture at my bed. "There is laundry duty to handle bedsheets. Perhaps your 'shorts' could be included? It would delay our departure."

I can see in Martin's face that he's struggling, coming to a momentous decision. "Fuck it," he finally mutters, and shoves the covering down his legs, stepping out of it and flinging it into a corner of the room. His cock reappears, large but quiescent--for now. "When in Rome, right?"

I clap my hands in delight. "This is better. You will see."

"Maybe..." he says, unconvinced. He stands before me, hands at his side occasionally twitching, as if they desire nothing more than to cover his cock again.

"Come on," I say, leading him through the portal towards the yard. "We must shower."

I decide a douche isn't needed today. Instead, I focus on soaping up my skin and especially my hair. Martin showers next to me. He figures out the controls for dispensing water and soap easily enough, but it still takes some time for him to finish cleaning, mostly because he keeps shooting glances at anyone passing through the yard. When I've finished, I offer to soap his back and butt. He declines, but does allow me to massage his shoulders.

After that, we go to my locker so I can retrieve my utilities and boots, then on to the stores. Helen is on duty today. She greets me warmly.

"Oy, Marissa. The usual loadout?"

"Aye," I say. "Some extra wipes. Oh, and an additional water canister. And a tie to hold my hair back. I'm going on a journey."

"I heard." Her eyes fall upon Martin. "And this must be your travelling companion. The sleeper."

"Nice to meet you," says Martin.

"I suppose you need utilities and boots of your own. And the same loadout as Marissa. Wait a moment." She returns from the back rooms with the appropriate items. Then she and I fasten the soft belt around Martin's waist and talk him through the various satchels and canisters--their purpose, what they contain.

"Anywhere else we need to go, Marissa?" he asks once we are done.

I shake my head. "I don't believe so. Auto, any other preparations to be made?"

"You and Martin are fully prepared, Marissa. I believe you can reach Lakepolly by tonight following the main path, but if that is a problem, we can discuss other contingencies."

"Auto, that shouldn't be an issue. Let's go."

There's not a formal farewell committee to see us off--not that I would have expected one--but we do pass several people who wish us well as we make our way to the redward path away from the polly. Serena is on nursing duty again, leaning against a partition in the yard with a tyke at her bub. She waves lazily to me and flashes Martin a smile that makes him visibly redden again.

The path itself is peaceful, proceeding in a straight line between bean fields. We see no others for the first kayem or so, then a couple of female provisioners appear ahead, pushing their cart towards the blueward polly, loaded with fish from the Great Lake and synth meat from the Lakepolly manufactories, as well as metal tools, sheets, repair kits, and other items we can't easily make for ourselves. I recognize the women's faces, but do not recall their names. I know they live in a neighboring polly.

We greet each other in passing, but do not stop to talk more. They have a place to be, and so do we. As they're moving away, I see Martin's eyes staring at their churning backsides and notice his cock has erected once more.

"Would you like to have another touching session?" I ask him as delicately as I can. "Or perhaps something else?"

"What? No, Marissa, no." He takes a deep breath. "I'm good. Maybe later."

"Very well," I say, not entirely convinced. We move on, each step taking us further redward, towards those engines I'm so curious to see. The sunstrand's only waxed a third; we're making very good time.