He resumed, and soon her climax was upon her. As it started, not only did he continue licking, he tickled her bottom mercilessly. She went into a hysterical orgasm. “You beast!” she gasped amidst it.
He came up and joined her, kissing her as his resurgent penis probed. She wiggled, facilitating his entry, and pressed close as he ejaculated. This was another minor revelation: doing her had turned him on too.
Suddenly, the power resumed. “So That’s what it was waiting for,” he said.
“Obviously.”
“Now that we've decided, should we notify the game proprietors to cancel the rest of this stay?”
“Don’t you dare!”
The rest of it passed quickly. They watched quality TV, they played cards, they swam, they ate, they did the entertainment tours including some wonderful boat sails, and, of course, they had so much sex it seemed it might come out their ears. Fotina learned to do Pedro as he did her, finding a penis more challenging to take in all the way orally than it was in the game, but she managed. And it did turn her on, to a degree, even though there did not seem to be any orgasm trigger in her throat. They had sex underwater in the sea, after observing another couple doing it— and in the tunnel of love, and in the racing car in the horror house. Finally, they buried themselves in sand and tried it that way, but the sand made it too uncomfortable. Well, at least they had made the effort.
Between times they talked, learning everything about each other. They turned out to be two ordinary people who had happened to meet in the game and fallen in love. “Nothing remarkable about us at all,” Pedro concluded.
“But we’re valuable for game viewership,” she said.
“Yes. They are doing this to make money; they hardly care about us personally.”
“I’m still glad it happened.”
“So am I.”
“I guess we’ll have to go back to being competitors for a while.”
“And having avatar sex with others,” he said. “Can you handle that?”
She grimaced. “I’ll have to. It’s not the sex; I've learned about that. It’s having to do it with someone other than you, and knowing you are doing it with someone other than me. I guess I am a little jealous.”
“At least it’s only avatar sex. I don’t want to have IRL sex with anyone but you.”
“Thank you.”
“You know, we don’t need to win anymore. Your father has his job back, and I consider you to be a bigger prize than any money could be.”
“And what will you support me on? Bookkeeping money?”
He sighed. “I’d better win the game, or let you win so you can support me.”
“Okay.” She kissed him.
They messaged the game authorities: they did plan to marry, and would do it in the game. They knew the authorities would be elated, for reasons that had nothing to do with real romance.
They made desperate love the last night, knowing there would be no more for several weeks. Fotina was in tears, but fortunately Pedro understood why.
On the final morning the helicopter took them to the airport. There they had different flights to their home cities. They held each other and kissed one final time, so passionately that they attracted stares from other travelers. They didn’t care.
When they separated, Fotina could hardly see her way to her seat. Fortunately, an understanding flight attendant was there to guide her.
It had been the best week of Fotina’s life.
Chapter 4:
Sustenance
Pedro found himself in the control room of a spaceship with seven others: three male, four female, all naked. He was relieved to see that one of the females was Fotina. This was another unified setting, rather than separate ones. He hoped it would not be as ugly as the last, and that it would be as wonderful as the conclusion of the last turned out to be. Getting to know Fotina IRL, having repeated sex with her in the flesh—what else could possibly match that?
An alarm went off. WARNING the sign flashed. RANDOM FOODER BREAKDOWN.
“Oh, shit!” Kemo said, checking it. The nameplates really helped; Pedro had not directly interacted with the others in the prior rounds, though, of course, they had all been at the Poop of the Day restaurant. Kemo was a powerful Nubian, surely possessed of all the best avatar traits.
“How bad is it?” Nola asked. She was a lovely Elf with flaring green hair.
“Bad. It seems to have shorted out, and the food raw material was jettisoned before it spoiled.”
“That’s idiocy!” Tris exclaimed. He was a handsome blond Nordic.
“No,” Pedro said. “It’s the arranged setup for the challenge of this round of the game. We are going to have to land on the one ship-hardened site of a nearby hostile alien planet to find enough food to complete our voyage.”
Tris nodded, frowning. “Sometimes I forget that we are subject to the whims of imbeciles.”
“In that case, we’d better strap in,” Xylia said. She was a fair Nordic beauty. Of course, all the surviving avatars were handsome and lovely; they had won those traits in the first round. They all enjoyed sex, too; that was why they had entered the game. Pedro suspected that Fotina’s IRL resemblance to her avatar was a rarity; Nola and Xylia were probably overweight wallflowers. The game made a phenomenal difference by lending extreme sex appeal to all players.
They strapped in and let the autopilot take them down. But first Fotina fetched the ship’s manual, and paged through it as the descent commenced. “This is bad,” she said.
“Out with it, girl,” Kemo said.
“The imbeciles have laid it out. The planet is nicknamed Horror. It was colonized two generations ago, but subsequently abandoned because it was considered too dangerous to be pacified. Some colonists remained, but their present state is unknown.”
“They may or may not help, if they survived,” Tris said. “They’ll speak the universal language, but may have become uncomfortably alien in the interim.”
“True,” Fotina agreed. “Horror, officially named Horizon, seemed at first to be the ideal Earth-type world, with similar gravity, atmosphere, and compatible animal and plant life. Then colonists started disappearing. Some were later found, but there’s no indication in the record what had happened to them. Only that at some point the colony was revoked and most of the people fled the planet. It seems they refused to speak of what they had seen.”
“How convenient,” Tris said.
Fotina’s mouth quirked. “It’s a game. The imbeciles don’t care about things like abuse of coincidence. They just want a good show.”
“A show we are unlikely to enjoy,” Xylia said wryly.
“Except for the sex,” Kemo said.
“Unless we have to have it with monsters,” Xylia said. “Traditionally, slavering sci-fi monsters always lust after pretty human girls. I never could figure out why.”
“Because the cheap magazines of the original science fantasy genre needed girls and monsters for their covers,” Kemo said.Xylia’s lips quirked. “Why else?”
The ship shuddered as it braked and plunged through the atmosphere. It came to a landing on a paved field near an impressive alien forest. They were on location.
“Now it is up to us,” Kemo said as they unbuckled. “Do we go out to forage for food in a group, or singly?”
“Based on prior games,” Pedro said, “there will be some significant threat. If it’s a dinosaur or a belch of poison gas from a vent, everyone in the vicinity will be wiped out. If it’s a man-eating rabbit, a single person can handle it. My impression is that we shouldn’t put all our eggs in one basket.”
“Plus, it’s easier for the viewing audience to focus on one person at a time,” Xylia said. “No one has to miss any monsters raping any girls.”
“Maybe go out in pairs,” Fotina suggested. “I want to be with Pedro, for good or ill.”
Xylia glanced at her. “There’s a rumor you might marry him in the game. Is it true?”
“It is true,” Fotina said. “T
hat does not mean we’ll be given any breaks in the game, just that before we leave it, we’ll have a public wedding.”
“How did they get you to agree to it?”
“They gave us a week together IRL at Honeymoon Isle.”
“Damn! I’d have killed for that, regardless of the man I was with.”
“Pick a man to marry,” Fotina said. “Maybe the game execs will make you a deal.”
Xylia shook her head. “Can’t. IRL I’m committed. My boyfriend would never understand.”
The others laughed. “He understands how you have frequent sex in the game?” Nola asked.
“He thinks it’s a quiz show setup. I haven’t clarified the details.”
Pedro wondered how many players were like that, being only nominally single and available. This was certainly the place to indulge secret desires while remaining technically faithful.
“Back to the topic at hand,” Kemo said. “I’m amenable to pairs. How do we decide who’s first?”
“Throw fingers,” Pedro suggested. “Three do it together; two are bound to match.”
Kemo nodded. “I’ll start. Who else?”
Xylia and Tris joined him. They threw, and the two men matched. “Damn,” Tris muttered. “I was hoping to be with you, Xylia.”
She laughed. “Why Tris, I didn’t know you cared.”
“It’s that a woman is more fun alone together than a man.”
“That’s all?”
“You force me to admit it: I do have a hankering for you.”
“That’s what I wanted to hear. Why don’t I give you a dramatic sendoff?”
“Okay!” He looked around. “Where can we get private?”
“There is no privacy here in the ship.”
“Then how—”
“Let’s put this setting to the test. Those waiters had public sex in the Poop coop.”
“I don’t know.”
She approached him, put her hand on his penis, and quickly massaged it into erection. Then she leaped into his arms, wrapping her legs around him. They went at it standing, hugging and kissing as his member thrust deep into her open vagina.
Pedro exchanged a glance with Fotina. This public display was surely giving the TV audience a passing thrill, and it turned him on. She nodded slightly, agreeing to have sex as soon as they had opportunity. As they had discovered so well, avatar sex was not really far removed from IRL sex.
Tris and Xylia finished their joint orgasm. They had demonstrated that public sex was feasible in this setting. “Thanks!” he exclaimed.
“I have a little bit of a hankering for you too,” she confessed. “Come back safely.”
“I hope to,” Tris said. “If we find usable food, we’ll qualify.”
“And if you get eaten by a monster, you won’t,” Xylia said. “So be careful, okay?”
“How much time should we give you?” Lance, the third man, asked. He was a Mongol.
Kemo and Tris exchanged a glance. “A game day,” Kemo said. “If we’re not back by then, chances are we wiped out.”
“A day it is,” Xylia said.
The two men departed the ship. Pedro felt the gravity of the situation. It was the game, but again, his experience with Fotina reminded him how close to reality it could come. Letting two of their number go out alone was nervous business.
“Do you really care for him?” Nola asked.
“Not until I saw him eying me,” Xylia said. “That turned me on. And there is a fair chance I won’t see him again. We know that only half of us will survive this round. Danger always did give me frisson. I do feel a little bit like a prospective widow.”
“So what do we do for 24 hours?” Lance asked.
“We leave that up to you,” Pedro said. “Fotina and I have eyes only for each other.”
“Actually, we’re probably mostly off-camera now,” Xylia said. “The game will be following the two men, as they make or break their roles. If we had a monitor, we could see what they encounter, and be better prepared.” Naturally there was no monitor.
“It will switch back to us fast enough if we do anything interesting,” Nola said.
“I might think of something,” Lance said. “Which of you three spare maidens is interested?”
“We all are,” Ula, the last woman, answered. She was a Faerie, her wings folded tightly against her back and sides, since they were useless in a non-fantasy setting. Magic was required to fly, as the wings were not large enough in a scientific sense. “We’ll take turns with Lance, and the spares can make it hands on.”
“Hands on?” Lance asked.
“While you have sex with one of us, the other two women will be stroking the two of you wherever it counts, especially where you join. It’s a special experience for all concerned.”
“I’m not sure about that,” Lance said.
“Maybe we can demonstrate on Pedro and Fotina,” Ula said. “They are about to have sex anyway.”
“What?” Pedro asked, taken aback.
“Start in with her,” Ula said. “Tune us out. This is merely a demonstration for Lance.”
Pedro looked at Fotina. No sex they had in the game was private. Did it make any difference?
She evidently felt that it did. She made a slight shake of her head.
“We’ll pass,” Pedro said. “Our sex is no longer casual. Maybe we can go outside and survey the environment around the ship, to be sure there’s no immediate threat.”
“That does make sense,” Ula said, evidently disappointed. “Don’t go far; we don’t know how close threats lurk.”
“Not far,” Fotina agreed.
The three free women gathered around Lance as Pedro and Fotina opened the hatch and exited the ship.
“Ula wanted to get her hands on you,” Fotina murmured. “Maybe touch your penis while it orgasmed.”
“Women get turned on by that sort of thing?”
“If they like the man.”
It was becoming clear why Fotina had declined to participate in hands-on sex. She was staking her claim to him. He thought of other men handling Fotina while Pedro was having sex with her, and understood.
The ship stood on a concrete pavement that extended out some distance. On one side was an old service building; on the other was an open landscape replete with fields interspersed by trees. It was as though no human foot had tread there in centuries, but it looked supremely peaceful, rather than dangerous. The air was comfortably warm. That was just as well they had no clothing to protect them. The game preferred nudity throughout, for sexual suggestiveness. The exceptions, as they had discovered, could be uncomfortable.
There was no sign of Kemo and Tris. They must have gone into the natural region, where food might be found.
“We’d better check the building,” Pedro said. “Cautiously.”
“There could be food stored there,” she agreed.
“Or a lurking monster. We can’t afford to take anything for granted.”
“And it will seem private.”
That had become important. They walked to the building.
It turned out to be empty, except for a pile of fine netting on a desk and a piece of paper pinned on the wall. Pedro checked both immediately. The netting was simply a length of metallic material about eighteen inches wide and eight feet long, possibly used as wrapping before being discarded. He tried to tear it, but it was far too strong to yield.
The paper looked like a crude map. In one corner was the spaceport; the rest seemed to be the local landscape, with fields and trees. Nothing else was marked. It did not seem to be a treasure map.
“Games generally have hints,” he said. “Or useful things whose purpose may be obscure. These can’t be random.”
Fotina looked around. “It’s safe here, for the moment, and private.”
Ah, yes. He went to her, embraced her, kissed her, and felt her bottom. He saw no inviting place to lie down; the floor was hard and dirty, as was the surface of the desk. “That position Tr
is and Xylia used—I believe it is called The Tree.”
Fotina jumped up and wrapped her legs around his waist. She clasped him close, kissing him as her breasts flattened against his chest. In a moment, he was thrusting into her from below. He penetrated to her trigger, and they had the instant joint orgasm.
“Not quite like IRL,” she said as it passed. “But easier.”
“Either will do, for me, as long as it is with you.”
“My sentiment exactly.” She dropped down to the floor. “Now we need to figure out these hints.”
“The webbing might make you a skirt,” he suggested facetiously.
“Actually, it might.” She took the material and wrapped it several times around her hips. It covered her genital region, reaching down to her thighs, but concealed nothing. If anything, it made her more enticing, because of the illusion of partial concealment. “If anyone thrust a spear at me, this should stop it.”
“Then wear it. We have no idea what the natives are like. They well might carry spears.” He refrained from saying it would be no defense against rape unless she fashioned it into a breech clout or diaper: something with nether protection. Even that way, it would not impede a rapist long; he would simply push it aside and proceed.
“And what about the rest of me?” She stood there as if on display, her breasts appealing above the skirt, her legs similarly appealing below it.
“Maybe you could fashion it into a toga?”
“There’s really not enough.” She unwrapped it and looped it over her shoulder. “But I’ll keep it; never can tell when a see-through skirt might come in handy.”
If she wanted to tempt men, it would; the see-through skirt attracted attention to that portion of her body, without denying penetration. Partial clothing could be more of a turn-on than nakedness.
Pedro took down the map. On the back was a crudely printed message: DANGER—DO NOT TRUST THE NATIVES.
“A warning surely worth taking seriously,” Pedro said. “I doubt we properly understand it yet.” He carefully folded the map and tucked it into the built-in pocket behind his name plaque. He checked the slide-out drawers of the desk. In one was a small metal object. He examined it. “This is an ancient waterproof cigarette lighter,” he said, surprised, lifting its tight lid.
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