Millions of Sperm

The World Soul is as close to a binding identity for brain slugs, brain bats, and related species as can be imagined; a common channel of information which, in its fullest expression, acts as a hive mind of hive minds, an emergent intelligence of god-like complexity. Imagine an entire planetary biosphere that is effectively a single living brain, a single gestalt consciousness. However, in its current nascent form, the World Soul also represents a danger: brain slugs are uniquely **** to diseases of information that are spread through the World Soul communication channels. Moods, behaviors, and ideas that are literally contagious, which can spread from brain slug host to host without conscious thought.
—Anastasia Massimi, Slugnomicon: A Guide To Brain Slug Spirituality (unpublished draft)

Jordan didn't make a sound. Yet her eyes were luminous, even in the light of the bathroom, and she had begun to shiver. Her salmon-colored insides were actively dripping, and the slightly fishy smell that Mel associated with the bedroom she shared with Jenny began to grow stronger, more noticeable. He watched her lower lip begin to quiver.

Mel swallowed hard. His body had already responded. He tore open the condom with his teeth and eased the sheath over the hardness. His pulse pounded in his temples, a weird, giddy excitement in his chest. Maxine had been a challenge, an emergency ejaculation, all emphasis on speed rather than pleasure. Now . . . now there was something relentless in the way Jordan's free hand was working her clitoris. The shiver was increasing, moving down her arms now.

"I hoped our first time would be special," he whispered as he rubbed his sealed shaft up and down her quivering quim. Her juices were soaking him, which he hoped would make this easier. "That we could take our time with it. I know Jordan had sex before me, but I—I guess I'm just worried I won't be very good. Now I just hope I'm good enough."

He used his fingers to guide the latex-clad tip below her urethra, to the opening of her channel. The heat was something Mel had felt on his face, on his tongue, but even through the condom, his glans was more sensitive, and Mel had to fight against the instinctive twinge deep inside. Glad that he'd already ejaculated once and could resist the sudden, instinctive urge to explode before he'd even entered Jordan completely.

Tightness. Mel had heard about it. Squeezed his own prick in his hand. Felt mouths engulf him, the body heat and the strong lips combining to produce an intense suction. Yet this was different. A muscular grip that was almost painful in its intensity, and as Mel looked, he saw it was because Jordan was squeezing; her inner muscles tensed.

Of course. It had been weeks or months since she'd had sex. She had to get used to the penetration. He waited, focused on his own breath, holding his shirt out of the way so that he could see. Jordan's nostrils flared and closed, flared and closed, her face burning red now, luminous eyes slightly glassy and unfocused. When Mel felt the pressure gripping him ease a little, he pressed forward until she squeezed him again.

It felt like an eternity. It was probably two minutes. An eternity of pushing himself into her. Jordan's fingers never ceased in their furious self-stimulation. Her labia were being **** a little wider as the thickness spread her out, and Mel struggled against his own instincts to move more violently. His muscles clamped and strained as he **** himself to a slow, controlled penetration.

Mel wasn't sure what to do when he was all the way in. They just stayed their like a moment, staring down at the place where they were joined. Then, Mel leaned forward and kissed her cheek.

For the first time since she started, Jordan's fingers slipped in their constant masturbation. Mel saw in the bathroom mirror that the brain slug on the back of her neck was emerald green and pulsing frantically. Her tongue licked at the edge of his mouth, and Mel shifted his eyes back toward hers, opening his mouth to accept Jordan's tongue.

Her non-jilling hand released her labia and grabbed Mel's bare buttock. Mel pulled back, as gently as he could, and then she pulled him back in. They found their pace together. Once Mel was sliding freely inside of her, he felt Jordan begin to use her internal muscles again. Relaxing so he could push in easily, tightening as he withdrew. It was hard for him to focus on doing anything except moving inside of her as Jordan's legs wrapped around his thighs, her sneakers digging in behind his knees.

The tingle he had first felt didn't go away. Mel could feel it grow, that familiar pressure building. Slower now, because this was his second shot, but as he bottomed out inside of her, Mel felt himself trying to squeeze muscles he couldn't name. Because Jordan wasn't there yet.

She didn't moan. Didn't scream, which Mel was thankful for because of where they were. But she panted. Her irises dilated, little black mirrors that reflected his own distorted face as her tongue swirled around his. Jordan's nails dug into his butt, and her thighs clenched, and Mel tried to follow her silent directions, for faster, shallower thrusts, her spasming fingers sometimes brushing the back of his shaft as he pumped, the head gouging lightly against the roof of her channel.

Mel had heard of the G-spot. He wasn't sure where exactly it was, but sometimes when Jordan's shaking knees squeezed him, Mel thought maybe he'd rubbed her the right way, and tried to do it again and again. The former virgin hoped he was doing well because Jordan's whole-body gesticulations grew faster and faster, the shared breath made Mel's lungs burn, and the pressure at the base of his prick was impossible now. It wasn't a question of if he was going to explode inside of her, but which second the inevitable would occur.

Her whole body seemed to convulse. Mel felt himself slammed deep inside of her, the grip on the whole length of him impossibly tight, and Mel moaned into her mouth as he unleashed. For a moment, there was no conscious thought, just a moment of being as his erection jumped and spat inside of her, the hard shaft pulsing involuntarily as thick white erupted into the depths, and the thin latex sheath filled like a balloon, millions of sperm trapped in an expanding elastic cul-de-sac.

The kiss broke. They panted. Swallowed air hungrily, panted again. Mel looked down at where they were still joined together. He wanted to ask if she needed him to finish her off with his mouth—and then determination settled in him. Mel wanted to make sure she had cum too.

So as Mel pulled out, the swollen balloon of the sperm reservoir hanging off the edge of the condom, he pinched the neck, and handed it to her to carefully tie it. He slipped down on one knee, and Jordan seemed to understand what he wished, because she shifted her legs so that her thighs rested on his shoulders as his tongue found that hot cleft.

The taste was subtly different from before, although that might have been his imagination. Her free hand found the back of his head, and Mel let Jordan guide him as he sucked softly on that swollen clit, circled that sensitive hole where a moment before he had been plunging in and out. The heat on his face matched his own burning blush, and the impossible wetness dripped down his chin and into his work shirt as he licked and sucked.

The pale thighs quivered against his head. Her hips bucked on their own, back arching. Mel couldn't see the wordless O of her lips from his vantage, or her toes curl, or how her eyes rolled up into her head so only the whites showed. But he felt her nearly pull out a handful of hair as her whole body shook and spasmed, briefly uncontrolled.

Mel kept licking. Parts of him ached pleasantly, but what made his heart swell was her obvious enjoyment, the weird satisfaction that he was doing a good job. He could have knelt there until his jaw went numb, but eventually her grip relaxed and Jordan tapped him softly on the forehead.

He looked up. She wasn't smiling, because she didn't smile, but her thumb ran down the bridge of his nose, and then across his cheek right under the eyes, as if to wipe away a tear. She moved, descending from the sink, and Mel got the message.

Playtime was over. Time to get back to work.

Jordan left the restroom first, clothes carefully put together, the warm condom in hand. As the door opened, Mel caught sight of Tomie and Maxine; they must have been waiting for them to finish. He also saw Ha-Yoon. She was there, in the small hallway, the swifter in her hands. The gold-shirted manager didn't look at Jordan, who slunk around her. Mel had nowhere to go as Ha-Yoon stepped forward and thrust the swifter at him.

"Sanitize the family restroom, Mel," she said. "Then come see me in my office."

Mel took the cleaning tool. Over Ha-Yoon's shoulder, he saw Jordan hand Maxine the loaded condom. He nodded.

"Yes, boss," he said.

"And remember," Ha-Yoon said, with a twist of her lips. "It's mandatory for employees to wash their hands!"