Past Pleasures

by Charlotte Stein

  Her instinct was to tell him that it didn’t matter—though the image of the pair of them needing to cuddle post-coitus was a sight for her imagination to behold—until she realised that it wasn’t out of some soft sense of what should be done, that he was saying so. He looked at her, as Aley carded fingers through his hair. He looked and looked, and waited for Aley to answer, for her to answer, longing all over him like something smothering.

  “You go on her, then,” Aley said, and she was sure he meant something far filthier than Tem simply climbing over her body, to press himself to her.

  She spread her legs, but he didn’t attempt to push anything between. She felt his cock lying between their bellies like a branding iron, heavy and hot, but he didn’t rut against her. Instead, his thumbs covered her temples and his gaze held hers and every thought in her head tried to fly away.

  Though one remained:

  I’m never going to get away from this—his dark liquid eyes, trying to get right into me.

  Followed quickly by another.

  I don’t want to.

  She kissed him, then. She kissed him, and petted his hair the way she had seen Aley do it, and let her hand just curl around his arm. When he shuddered, and tensed, she kissed his cheek, then close to his ear:

  “This is the way men and women used to be, together.”

  He whispered back, hoarse and bitter:

  “I know that, now.”

  It took what seemed like far too long a time, before he grew hungry, and eager. Gradually, the kisses deepened. She could feel Aley behind him, stroking his back, again. Maybe stroking other things, too. Maybe saying a few dirty things, to pull all of it back from the brink of depressing and deep and God knows what.

  She heard him clear and ridiculous:

  “I’m going to spill on you, Tem.”

  Then less ridiculous and more weirdly arousing—

  “You do it on Kate. Come on, do it. You must be ready.”

  When she turned her head a little to the left, she could see Aley stroking himself. Muttering words like I’m very ready and other things strange, until his cock gleamed slick and stiff in his fist and Tem shifted over her.

  Every strangled groan of Aley’s made Tem rock against her, minutely. His prick skidded easily through the mingled sweat and pre-come that had gathered between them, but no sense of real pleasure came from him until she rocked back. He gasped for her, then.

  And Aley gasped, in turn.

  “I’m almost there, Tem. Shall I do it?”

  He had his head thrown back, hand quick and rough on himself. The tip of his prick looked as though it was about to burst, but that only shoved words out of her harder. They came before she even knew she wanted to say them.

  “No. Wait. Wait until Tem’s inside me.”

  It became clear, then, what such an idea meant to both of them. Two sets of eyes grew big and startled. Tem snapped his attention to her, fully, and went to say something. Whatever the words might have been, however, they dried up in his mouth.

  “Go ahead,” she said. “Like this.”

  She reached between their bodies, but he seemed to anticipate what she was about to do and jerked away—just a little. It was Aley’s hand on his back that stopped him, and pushed a tortured sigh from his lips.

  “I can’t let her touch me,” he said, head turned towards Aley. “I’m too close. I’ll do it.”

  In response Aley was cruel, she felt. Though cruel in a way that made Tem flush and groan and rock towards nothing.

  “Then I will. She can touch me. Is that what you want?”

  “No—yes! I can share. We share. I don’t mind.”

  “You do mind. But that’s all right, my friend. It’s all right, go on. She wants you to, don’t you, Kate? I can see it in her eyes.”

  Tem glanced up, as though searching for whatever it was Aley thought he had observed. It seemed odd, to her, that Aley should be so certain and so clever, so quickly, while Tem hung back, unsure.

  But it made her kiss his mouth, and arch up into his body, and clasp a hand around his rigid cock.

  His teeth immediately dug deep into his lower lip. It dug in harder, when Aley rubbed his own tense prick over the slope of Tem’s back, as though he’d forgotten which were his hands and which were other, ruder parts of his body.

  Tem’s breath hitched when her hand slid all the way down to the root, but he held on. He retained his red-cheeked, sweating, squirming composure. Though most of it left him, when she stroked her thumb over the slick tip.

  His cock swelled in her tight grip and he poled his arms either side of her head. Stiff, straight, keeping it all in check. His mouth suddenly against hers, urgently searching. She thought there might be words in between kisses, but they were too garbled and soft and grew more so when she hooked one leg around his hip.

  She ran the tip of his cock through her slick folds and he surged forward, nudging against her clit until she had to gasp. Of course he tried to pull back immediately—perhaps because of the sound she had made—but it wasn’t hard to draw him down and in, then everything must have been far too heated and slick for him to resist.

  He sank in almost to the hilt without even trying, a low moan burring out from somewhere deep inside him. His eyes fluttered closed, and such bliss crossed his features—but she couldn’t blame him. The feel of him thick and solid inside her made her want to ride, hard, immediately. It made her want to flip him over and fuck his twisting body until he spurted inside her, until he cried out her name and clutched her to him.

  Luckily, he got the idea long before she had to take the lead. His hips rolled, experimentally, the roll soon turning into a jerking thrust, the jerking thrust becoming a jolting shove that made her cry out.

  He amazed her by managing words.

  “Did I hurt you?”

  He looked stunned and desperate, and though she was sure he would have liked this to last, it was obvious it wouldn’t. He could barely stop himself rutting, even when concern wavered in his voice and his forehead tightened with it.

  “No. God, no. Again. Harder. Do it as hard as you like.”

  His mouth set in a tight line, and he obeyed almost immediately, levering himself up on his arms until he loomed over her, so strong and masculine and yet not all in the same instance. This time when he thrust, the thick press of his cock sparked a flood of liquid sensation—God, he was right there, the angle deep and perfect.

  “Like this?”

  “Yeah, like that. Go on—fuck me. Fuck my pussy.”

  Of course, Tem couldn’t possibly have any idea of what she was talking about. But it didn’t register on his face. Nothing registered on his face but greedy lust and flushed urgency—his tongue flickered out to lick his upper lip, and she thought of her taste, and whether it still lingered there.

  He barely seemed aware of Aley, when his friend spoke.

  “Does she feel good? Describe it to me.”

  “Tell him,” she urged, and he groaned. His arms trembled.

  “It’s too tight around me. It’s too good.” He gasped, and his head hung low as his hips churned. “So slippery. She’s rubbing right against—oh. Oh!”

  She dug her nails into his sides, as he climaxed hard inside her. The sounds he made—the feel of him—she was only surprised she didn’t come from such things alone. Though there was no surprise at all when pleasure bloomed and slithered through her, to feel Aley taking his friend’s place, between her legs.

  “You don’t have to be gentle,” she heard Tem say, but when she opened her eyes again he was at her side, looking down at her with a gaze that seemed caught between loving and…hurt? She couldn’t tell, she couldn’t tell, and though she was fairly certain that no real jealousy bloomed between them, it was clear that Tem had never had to share something he felt he shouldn’t have to.

  “Go on,” he said, and put his hand on Aley’s shoulder.

  Kissing Aley was different to kissing Tem—in a way she wished it wasn’
t. It felt good, and it made her hungry to have him inside her, and his big body over her sent tingles spiralling through her groin, but it just wasn’t the same.

  It grew sweeter, however, when Tem leant down to kiss her as Aley held himself up, and slid almost effortlessly into her aching sex. She gasped into his mouth as Aley laughed and moaned through his shock, pushed her hand into Tem’s thick dark hair and choked back words that were holding her hostage.

  Go on, they said. Tell him, tell him what this means to you, but them saying so only made it seem even more ridiculous. How many hours had she spent with them? With him? Barely any, in comparison to the whole scheme of her life. And yet—

  And yet his eyes locked with hers, and Aley panted and fucked into her and said how much he couldn’t take it, he couldn’t take this bliss not like this, not forever, and she couldn’t think of anywhere she’d rather be.

  Tem’s hand was between their bodies, cupping first one breast, then the other. She felt him worry a nipple as Aley’s cock slid in and out, in and out, and even more arousing—his tongue, swiping over her parted lips.

  “Do you want me to touch that place?” he whispered, and felt his hand sliding down her body before she’d even had chance to answer. Of course, she knew what he meant: her clit. He understood, and wanted to touch her there.

  The first stroke of his fingers, fumbling between Aley’s slapping flesh and her soaked folds, had her gasping his name again. Orgasm rippled through her, quick and startling, but Aley didn’t seem to mind that it was Tem who had caused it, Tem she praised. He was coming too, a joyous, incredulous look on his face as his hips snapped forward and he swelled inside her.

  “I can feel her doing it,” he laughed, and Tem grinned too, in answer. No hurt remained on his face. Both looked thoroughly fucked and terribly pleased with themselves, and when they collapsed all over her she couldn’t complain.

  She was thoroughly fucked and terribly pleased with herself, too.

  * * * *

  Nothing seemed right, when she awoke. Everything was white and grey, not honey-gold. Everything was dull and useless, not Tem and Aley murmuring that they wished things could stay like this forever. Don’t go, Kate. Don’t go. And later, when Aley slept and Tem thought she did too, she had heard him whisper in her ear. Words that sounded as though they began with L and ended in E.

  She began with L and ended with E for Tem. It was true. It was.

  But she had left them, just the same. And worse yet, she had left them in her sleep—she knew it, after a moment of not wanting to wake up. The timer had beeped and sent her back sleeping, completely naked.

  She tried to sit bolt upright and ran into the straps around her wrists, her ankles. Then Waites was looking down at her, lip pulled up in the worst sort of incredulity.

  “What have you been doing?” he said, and her mind raced back and forth, trying to light on any possible thing that would excuse her nakedness. The robots, she thought, the robots, but coherent ideas weren’t sticking.

  The truth clanged around inside her head, brilliant and bright. Not like this fucking nothing, Waites sneering, constant noise and shouting and no Tem. There wasn’t anything like Tem, anywhere here.

  “I…they caught me…”

  They didn’t have to catch anything. I went, willingly.

  “Made me do terrible things…”

  They’d never have to make me do anything.

  “It was horrible, Waites, horrible!”

  It’s everything I never knew I always wanted.

  “Let me up, please, let me up!”

  Send me back. Send me back. Send me back.

  It wasn’t hard to fake tears. They came naturally, as did the shakes. And it must have convinced, because he untied her quickly. He even brought a blanket, to wrap around her shoulders.

  “Well, you’re back now. You’re safe,” he said, for once grave, and understanding. He even patted her shoulder. “And you never have to go back there again.”

  * * * *

  When he woke up, she was gone. He knew she was, immediately, because although her scent remained all over him, the room felt empty. The bed felt empty, and emptier yet because Aley was in the shower, singing about those flying things that used to flap around in the sky.

  And though he was sure she’d come back, he found himself thinking, again—what if she doesn’t? What if she were never to return, and couldn’t tell them about the flying things and if they were once real. Or kiss them again, in all of those incredible ways. Or kiss him again, and hold him, and tell him that she hadn’t actually heard him say that thing and so wasn’t consequently horrified.

  Though in truth, he sort of suspected she had heard him. And that she wasn’t horrified at all, not by any of it. She had gone so far beyond kissing, and looked into his eyes with such warmth, and Lord knew what was going to happen, now.

  Other than worrying, that she wouldn’t come back. The other times she had seemed to know she was going, but this time she hadn’t. Or at least, she hadn’t thought to wake him and say things to him.

  Did that mean something bad? He couldn’t think about it, meaning something bad. He couldn’t speak to Aley about it, when Aley came out of the shower, because although he knew with every fibre of himself that Aley understood better than he did—about special feelings that might exist between people, and how that might exclude him slightly—he didn’t want to hurt Aley.

  He loved Aley. It was just that he loved Kate, in a different way. A longing sort of way.

  “Are you all right, Tem?” Aley said, and he thought of her face. Her dark eyes, full of sweetness. “She will return, soon. She will return, and then you know what I have thought? We will make her stay with us.”

  It was only then that he truly doubted she would return. Her staying with them forever was just too much of a silly dream. All of this had been a silly dream. She was gone, and would not return.

  Epilogue

  She explained everything carefully, and in great detail. It wasn’t hard. The world was full of ridiculous sci-fi stories that he was only too happy to believe. It made her wonder if he was really so unhappy in his work, in his life. If a man really was so unhappy, surely he’d want to believe in a sad and yet ultimately lovely future that he could escape to?

  But it was clear he didn’t. She doubted he’d even believe that the real future had any loveliness, if she told him the truth. He’d probably think it awful—no women. Everyone living in those tiny little rooms, eating skin-crackers and drinking metal water. Hardly ever going out. All the men so calm and collected, so warm and loving.

  What kind of person would like that?

  “Are you ready, Kate? Take deep breaths. Only five minutes—you’ll be fine.”

  It hadn’t taken much to persuade him into letting her go again. Just one more time, to get the final data he needed. She could do it, no problem! She was more than willing to risk life and limb for his project.

  He had even smiled at her for what seemed like the first time ever. What a dedicated and conscientious person she was. He was glad he hired her, even if she did irritate him something chronic.

  “I know, Professor,” she said, and smiled through the fake wavering. He couldn’t see her, after all. He was too busy with the machine, with the controls, with everything else in the world besides her.

  She knew he wouldn’t check too closely. He was getting ready for his own jaunt to the year 2055, when frightening mole-people who made you be naked did not abound—what did it matter what she did? She was irrelevant to him, just as she was irrelevant to most of the people in her own time. And not cruelly, either, not cruelly at all—but just enough.

  It could be, she would later think, that he understood as she began to disappear. He had seemed to jump up from his console at the last moment, a look of baffled fright on his usually so composed features.

  But that was all right. It would become clear to him, quickly, that he had not been to blame. He had told her, after all, t
o strap her timer on—be careful, Kate, he always said. You can’t get back without it.

  Which is why, of course, she had strapped a simple digital watch to her wrist, and left the real one hanging on its hook.

  About the Author

  Charlotte Stein has been published in numerous erotic and erotic romance anthologies, and has written her own longer length works for both Black Lace books and Total-E-Bound. She has been writing for more than half her life, but only recently worked up the courage to submit something to actual publishers. Thankfully, the story ended well.

  Email: charlotte_stein@hotmail.co.uk

  Charlotte loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at http://www.total-e-bound.com.

  Also by Charlotte Stein

  Waiting in Vain

  Sultry Solstice: Tigerlily

  Total-E-Bound Publishing

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