The provisioner

"So...the chicken polly?" says Martin once we're established on the path, the Great Lake retreating and rising behind us.

"They are these small creatures with beaks and claws and feathers," I reply. "The females secrete a very delicious--"

"Yeah, no, I know what chickens are...and eggs," says Martin drily. "To be honest, I guess I'm surprised I haven't already seen them around. I hear they aren't hard to keep."

I shrug my shoulders to that. "They are only to be found at the chicken polly, hence the name. I do not know why." Unconsciously I lick my lips, remembering the taste of boiled egg. I haven't enjoyed the experience in five hundreds at least, but maybe tonight...

"Just another of Auto's mysterious decisions, no doubt," says Martin. He has grown very pensive. "I find it interesting what is and isn't available on this ship. No instant communication, for one thing--no phones or radios."

"You can always relay a message to another via Auto," I point out.

"Hmm, yes, exactly. All communication goes through Auto, doesn't it? And transportation, that's the other big thing missing. No tram network, no cars, not even some draft animals. Everything has to be carried by someone, like that poor bastard." He points ahead--far in the distance--to a provisioner plodding along in the same direction as us.

"You could ask Auto about that."

"Nah, it'd only give me the same spiel as before about 'irreplaceable parts'. Which is no doubt true, but I suspect is only part of the story...I just find it all interesting, these decisions. Trading some efficiency for greater social stability, if I had to guess..." He lapses into further silent thought.

Over the course of the morning, we steadily gain on the provisioner until we're abreast. By this time, the sunstrand is fully waxed. When I look forward and backwards, I notice the redward and blueward hills are equally distant. We've reached the midway point of our journey.

Surreptitiously, I glance at our temporary travelling companion. He's a short man, but broad-shouldered and well-muscled, his brown hair tumbling down near to his shoulders, even shaggier than the twins'. As he strains against his cart, thighs churning and stretching, his cock--similarly short and wide--bounces about, dangling from a tangled forest of curls.

When he sees us walking beside him, he stops pushing for a moment. "Whew!" he exclaims. "Oy, travelers! I could stand for a short rest. Perhaps you could as well." His eyes travel the length of my body, a quick assessment. "Perhaps even a fuck?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Martin tense once more. I'm about to refuse the offer when he speaks, deliberately yet quickly. "She would love to fuck you."

The provisioner frowns. "I would prefer to hear acceptance or rejection from her."

I look at Martin. His face is flooded in embarrassment, but underneath, I can see something else breaking through--determination, resolution. He wishes to prove something, possibly to me, more likely to himself. I turn back to the provisioner. "He is correct. I would love to fuck you." I lift my right leg and twirl about once, in a whimsical pirouette. "How would you have me?"

"Your ass," the provisioner says simply. "It looks delectably tight."

"Do you have some lubrication? I can provide it if necessary."

"I do." He pulls a bottle from his utilities and begins slicking up his tool. Meanwhile, I detach my own utilities and take my position on all fours beside the path. When the provisioner is ready, he squats just behind and begins pressing against my back passage. I shift uncomfortably, arching my back to provide both of us with the best angle for penetration. I have not had a cock in my asshole in some time, and never one of such girth.

I gasp in shock at the sense of fullness when his head slips through the ring of muscle. He pushes further, harder, gripping my hips with his hands. Once he's firmly positioned in my rear, his hairs tickling the inside of my cheeks, he begins a rhythmic thrusting.

"So," I say, making conversation as I wait for him to reach his release, "your tasks are going well?"

"Well enough," the provisioner grunts. "Auto usually has me performing deliveries." He casually slaps my right cheek with an open palm, eliciting another gasp from me. "There...There was some strangeness two days back. I arrived in a polly with my loaded cart to discover another provisioner had come shortly before with exactly the same delivery. The polly had no need of my goods, but they took them anyway as a precaution."

"How...odd," I manage to say. I can see Martin standing a short distance away, watching us, his cock fully extended. I gesture to him. "Come...here. You should not be so neglected."

He approaches tentatively, and kneels before me at my direction. I engulf his cock in my mouth as the provisioner continues to pound me from behind. For several long moments, nobody speaks. Then the provisioner grasps my hips even tighter, speeds his thrusts, and finally releases, his sperm flowing through my back passage in spurts. While I feel a pleasant hum within my core, I know my own release is unattainable. Instead, I focus on Martin's pleasure, taking his tool deep within my throat and sucking until he, too, gives me his seed.

When I stand on slightly unsteady legs, I see the provisioner cleaning off his tool with wipes from his utilities. "That was a delightful respite," he says cheerily.

"I could not agree more," I say, reaching for my own wipes. Once I am finished and have reattached my utilities, Martin and I resume our journey, leaving the provisioner behind. When we are out of earshot, I turn to Martin.

"Are you alright?" I ask.

"I'm alright if you are alright," he responds.

"And as I've said before, I, too, am alright if you are alright." We stare at each other for a moment, then both break down into giggles at the silliness, clinging to one another to remain upright.