A Brave New World

Adam did not expect it to be this easy.

Crossing into Sexworld felt like walking through a door- well, with the exception of a momentary lapse in self-awareness. A blink. Maybe two. And that was it. Not enough time for the brain’s neurons to register what’s happening.

What… was that it?

As Mr. Sinclair passed into the threshold of the portal, he found himself in an exact replica of the IG’s Command Center. Nah, this had to be a mistake. Same military-esque structure. Same glaring overhead lights. This wasn’t sexy at-

“Tickets please! Everyone have your tickets ready!”

Hmm?

Looking down, a sexy young IG attendant caught his attention. Gawd damn… Adam mouthed silently to himself, lightly nodding yet pleasantly surprised at Sexworld IG’s choice of work apparel. Maybe the guys online didn’t bullshit him after all, eh?

She was at most 30, but likely mid 20s. Her hair was tied in a pony tail, brunette, and slung over her shoulders which accentuated her C-cup tits. Her outfit was a stark contrast to the seemingly uptight corporate Prudeworlders employed at the International Gateway back home; she sported a navy blue bra; a garter belt which kissed her thighs; with the IG’s logo stitched on her panties’ mid-section.

A tinge of excitement filled his core, but he kept it under control (for now), offering a small polite nod at the attendant before handing her his ticket. “Uh, here you go.” Expectations were looking good. He felt like a protagonist of one of those cheesy Meet N’ Fuck games from the 2000s. An implausible scenario - no, reality - that most men only dreamt of living. Too bad he didn’t catch himself in time as his eyes drifted down, affixed on the attendant’s tits for a second too long.

“Like what you see?” She flirtatiously quipped, her breasts giving a soft wiggle as she shook her chest before offering a wink.

“I- ah…”

A bellow of laughter resounded from a few passengers before Adam felt a hand on his shoulder. It was a man; mid 20s; total fuckboy look with silver cross earrings and a black baseball cap; who grinned at him, “Don’t get too excited brutha, got plenty more of that waitin’ outside.”

Adam chuckled, “Ya know how it is, sometimes ya get a little carried away.” He stifled his embarrassment, playing off a cool, casual vibe as if his ‘accident’ was no big deal - a trick he learned hanging out at college bars and clubs back in Prudeworld.

Shrugging it off, he slipped into the anonymous masses traveling toward the exit bridge. He quickly forgot the incident as his attention began diverting at the stray IG personnel darting to and fro. Every female employee wore sexy lingerie which you’d only see on a BangBros parody back home, some cum stains visible on a few of them. And the men? Speedos emblazoned with the IG logo. Nothing else. Not even joking. It made his mind race, though. I mean, Adam was 100% hetero. He read online since sex was so casual, akin to breathing air or walking on two feet, a few randos may try to bend him over.

He laughed at a few hilarious mishaps by straight Prudeworlders who posted on the forums. All you’d have to do is say ‘no’, they’d write, may offend or shock a few of them, but it wasn’t the end of the world. Adam hoped that was the case, but he’d prefer not witnessing it first-hand.

“Nnngh, fuck me… oohhh fuck…”

His observations were interrupted by sensual moans just around the corner.

What the…? Was that?

Yep. He spotted a tall, blonde IG employee, judging by the skimpy navy blue lingerie pooled around her feet, and a shorter Hispanic guy slam into her pussy in an upright position. Their lips locked in a sloppy make-out session as her thigh wrapped around the guy’s ass. It caught a few passengers off guard, who simply responded by accelerating their walk speed past the hot and heavy exhibition. The less sensitive Prudeworlders nonchalantly observed the two, but kept any remarks to themselves.

Adam fell into the latter category, “Public sex. Nice.” He muttered to himself, slowing down to a leisurely pace to catch a momentary glimpse at the lovers, before rejoining the crew.

Heh, that was a warm up. Expect to see-

He could hear it again. This time it sounded like an entire orchestra as dozens - no, hundreds - cries of pleasure filled the air. Outside, past the exit bridge gap leading into the main terminal, a cacophony of moans and groans drowned out his thoughts. He could spot specks of jizz and bodily fluids scattered around with what limited visibility he had. He took a few more steps, wondering what the fuck was going on…

And it hit him by surprise.

It hit _everyone _by surprise.

Literally hundreds of nude men and women, most likely Sexworlders departing to or arriving from Prudeworld **** to deposit a hot load with whoever was nearby, swarmed the inner layout of the terminal. Love juices caked everything. The floors, the benches, and even IG personnel wore cum like a badge of honor. Whatever restraint the IG staff held at the gateway vanquished without a second thought.

The International Gateway was in chaos, to put it mildly.

A few “innocent” bystanders arriving from Prudeworld froze with mixed feelings of awe, desire, and not going to lie, a bit of fear. This was an **** on the senses, particularly those who aren’t adjusted to the hypersexual nature of the Sexworldians.

Adam was no exception.

“What…”

To his right, a line of naked Sexworlders, giddy with anticipation for any loved ones crossing through the dimension back home, held placards around their necks and hard cocks. Quite a few women lay supine on the cummy floor, their legs wide open, wet cunts bare for the newcomers to gawk at.

A middle-aged man, early 40s, with slick back brown hair looked at Adam, “Have you seen a girl? Long red hair, freckles. She was supposed to come back today.”

Adam looked at him, dumbfounded, as his eyes shift downward at the man’s erection. A placard slung on his shaft, held together by a piece of twine. “For Natalie daddy misses you <3” was shoddily written in green ink.

“... the …”

To his left, a Starbucks was open for business. It was relatively tame compared to the chaos unfolding out in the main terminal. A few customers ordered their beverages in various stages of undress or lingerie. Most benches were occupied by two patrons, one nestled in the other’s lap, in any combination of genders engaged in sexual activity while conversing with one another.

What caught his attention were three guys circle jerking above a box labeled “Donations,” before a shot of cum sprayed out from one of them and into the insertion hole.

A few bored looking women lined up, with one of them quipping, “Ugh. Can’t believe this place. It shouldn’t be that hard to order deliveries of fresh cum daily.”

“... Fuck.”

At the center, past the writhing mass of sexy bodies, a highlighted sign labeled “Baggage Claim ↓” directed all arriving passengers toward an escalator.