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Chapter Five: The Republic of Falus Before I go on I should tell you where you will find The Pleasure Place in case you'd like to visit it yourself. It is in the capital of The Republic of Falus. The Republic of Falus (Fa-loose) the capital of which is called, with a great sense of irony perhaps, considering its majority population, Poilu (Pwaloo), appeared on the political and sociological map in the mid-thirties. Few people had ever lived there previously. Tropical, it had many of the attributes of what tourists in earlier times, especially the 1980s and 1990s, had come to describe lazily as Paradise. It was like Mykonos with trees. But it wasn't as accessible to the major markets as the Greek island. Its other major drawback was the snakes. It was crawling with snakes... hardly the most welcome companions when they are so deadly and aggressive. Then, like Jamaica during the time of slavery, a would-be farmer had introduced a small and courageous creature, the mongoose, from India. As the animals multiplied, they attacked and eventually eliminated the reptiles. The island became known as Falus when the so-called Aliens had arrived, unseen and unannounced, earlier in the century. These people had known that Earth was a rich globe, but troubled in ways similar to those their own planet had suffered eons before. They saw that intolerance and greed were doing to Earth what they had done to the planet Falus over the centuries until certain rogue elements, at war with each other and taking advantage of their rapidly advancing technologies, had threatened destruction of the planet unless certain irreconcilable conditions were met. Twenty Falusians, scientists and artists in the main, had escaped and after a long journey into space had arrived on Earth. Their craft ditched in the Pacific and the twenty young men, chosen for their skills and extraordinary good health, together with a considerable armoury of equipment, had made landfall on the all-but-uninhabited island they would name in honour of their creationplace. They observed the sparse population and saw a microcosm of the old planet Falus (and, though they didn't know it) of the planet Earth. They called these people Earthners. That they couldn't themselves be seen ? certainly during the early months of their occupation ? was a result of their being on a different wavelength from the Earthners. But being in part android, and having been, as it were, 'genetically-modified' during their formative or prototype years, they were able to re-program or modulate themselves until they could make themselves visible if the need or the desire arose. Within a year all but a handful of the Earthner population developed a great desire to leave the island. Six months after the last of these emigrants had left, those who remained were permitted to meet some of their new neighbours although believing that they had known the newcomers for a long time. Those who left, on the other hand, departed with no knowledge at all of the 'invaders'. Over the next few decades the Falusian population expanded considerably, principally by the sudden 'discovery' of the island by some of the many cruise ships that plied this part of the Pacific. Previously, a trading vessel had brought supplies to the island once a month and it was on one of these that two of the twenty newcomers had travelled, unseen, to its home port. Once there, they had logged information about a larger population of Earthners. Eventually, they had travelled to Sydney in Australia and, invisibly boarding a cruise ship, had mentally directed the captain to add Falus to his itinerary. From the cruise ship's passenger manifest they had selected people with key skills to 'defect' to Falus. They needed builders and architects and entertainers and chefs and fashion designers and engineers. And although using their powers they could force people to do as they wished, they were anxious to create a peaceful and contented community. Those who became Falusians were generously rewarded in various ways. That's how Douglas Masterson came to be in Poilu. He'd been in his early twenties and a particularly handsome young man when he was abducted. And he was ambitious. He already owned strip clubs or male entertainment centres (MECS) as he preferred to call them. This itself was a little bi-lingual joke, appreciated by his French patrons. Masterson ? who liked to be known as Duke ? had been about to launch a transgendered club when he returned from his cruise. Though he did not advertise the fact, Duke liked to dress. He would never have 'passed', but one of his favourite pastimes was to stand at one of the bars in his main club dressed in black leather, black silk shirt and, just visible if you looked closely enough, a hint of black lace next to his skin. We'd met at one of his MECS during a promotional tour for one of my movies. I didn't know him well, but having made a name for myself ? and a small fortune ? starring in lush porno movies, it was inevitable that when ? without knowing that it was happening ? I was abducted to Falus I should soon enough get to know him rather better. It had been in my mind to invest in property and perhaps establish a studio now that my starring days were somewhat numbered. I reckoned I had about another four or five years in me. Or, to be more accurate, in dozens of beautiful co-stars. The two Falusians on the cruise ship had, I discovered later, intercepted my thoughts and as I mused about these future projects beside the ship's pool had marked me as an ideal candidate for one of Duke's plans to increase the viability of the island. Poilu is not a large metropolis. Its population numbers no more than a handful of thousands of people, although immigration has seen it growing. The two leaders of the small band of men from the planet Falus were known locally as Adam and Dante, although their Falusian names (or designators as they called them) were Gnaaaaa and Phlorrrrrrrrrrrrtttf. Superficially, they were indistinguishable from Earthners. Gnaaaaa (Adam) was usually about five foot ten tall, with tight blond curls, a strong broad forehead, deep-set blue eyes fringed by long lashes and a powerful neck from which sloped wide shoulders. His body was that of an athlete (having been modelled on Michelangelo's David) and his legs would not have disgraced the most expensive football player. These planetary expeditioners looked, smelt, felt and ? if you didn't listen too carefully ? sounded like humans or Earthners. But they were, in fact, androids, robotics, electro-mechanical beings, created not born. Phlorrrrrrrrrrrrtttf (Dante) was generally of a similar height and build to Adam (they were both Series XJ12s) but with chestnut hair and dark, piercing eyes. One physical characteristic or oddity should be mentioned. His nipples, through a programming fault, were really quite dramatically prominent and given to sudden erection that could be distracting in the extreme to those he met. They often became deeply besotted with him. In case you're wondering, both youths had blessed themselves with cocks of the most intimidating dimensions. They could achieve erection at will, a feat which with their breathtaking good looks ? and seemingly magical charisma - made them irresistible to almost everyone they met. I was later to discover that, being able to self-morph themselves they had a further characteristic. They could develop breasts. Beautiful, firm and upwardly-mobile breasts. As they did so their hair would grow longer and their faces and physiques become decidedly feminine. Except in one respect. For some reason, they always kept their cocks. So, in truth, as you'll discover, they might more properly have been called androgynoids, since their forms could change immediately to mimic either gender. Or both. When the occasion arose they could, therefore, inflame even the most committed and insensitive heterosexual. Not one of these remained as loyal to his convictions as he had been when he had arrived. All the Falusian boys were similarly blessed with this self-morphing facility to turn themselves into clones of whomsoever they chose. (A considerable rework was needed for the seven of the twenty when they all chose to look like the young George Michael. Eventually each was persuaded to choose a different look from his fellows. The one who chose to look like Marilyn Monroe on steroids needed counselling.) Adam, Dante and companions, then, were almost completely convincing Earthners, but being made of synthetic materials and operated by something approximating computers had far more control over their frames than genetic Earthners had over their bodies. Inside their heads were the equivalents of motherboards with small drawers just above and forward of their ears into which Intelligence Disks could be inserted to transfer information to their 'brains'. For instance, one of these IDs had provided them with a detailed history of certain Earthner civilisations, among them that of the Spartans, one of the earliest dictatorships on Earth. Of the Spartans they learned that homosexuality had been compulsory and that on the wedding night a Spartan woman would dress in male clothing and wait for her husband in a darkened room. The husband would come to the room from the army mess where he lived with his fellow soldiers, have sex and then return to the mess. This odd concept did not strike the Falusians as strange, since in the cyberworld from which they came everybody or, rather, every body, being built rather than born, there was no longer a need for women to bear children. Like the Spartans, the sexes by and large lived apart. You now know as much as I do about this strange and beguiling island republic and its leaders. The day I arrived, a balmy Sunday about ten days ago, the launch which brought us in from the ship was met by a bunch of quite stunningly attractive young women, each of whom rather cornily put a lei around the neck of each of the fourteen passengers and kissed each of us. There were seven girls. Seven vehicles were lined up behind them and we passengers were led to them by the girls, each of whom linked arms with the two guys she had lei-d. The vehicles, open like golf buggies, were driven by another girl wearing a low-cut outfit that was supposed to look like a chauffeur's uniform. They each wore a cap, worn at a jaunty angle. We were taken to a hotel, Le Coq d'Or, only a few metres from where we'd been welcomed. The walk would have been nice, but with such charming companions, both of whom were anxious to get their tongues into my mouth, who was I to complain? Distracting as this attention was, I did manage to get a bit of a look at the Esplanade on which the hotel stood, looking out over the lagoon where the ship had anchored. All along this thoroughfare were palm trees between each of which was a statue of a bikini-clad girl, all of whom seemed to be blessed with rather exciting breasts. The hotel was sumptuous and clearly new. I registered, handed over my passport and asked about my baggage. "That will be brought to your room as soon as it's transferred from the ship, sir," said the cute little blonde receptionist. "You are in Suite 600 on Level Six, overlooking the lagoon, sir. Marcel here will take you up. Oh, and Mr Nixon, there's a note here for you." The cheeky little blonde handed me a pink envelope. "I wish you a very pleasant stay with us. I hope you'll have happy memories of the Coq. If there is anything you need, anything at all, please don't hesitate to call for service by dialling 9 day or night." I felt like saying that I might need her. But that would have been a bit uncool wouldn't you say? I looked at the handwriting on the envelope and, turning towards the elevators almost bumped into a muscular young man in what passed for a bellhop's uniform. The jacket looked a little tight. The pants looked as if they had been painted on. Maybe inside them was the Coq d'Or itself. My suite took my breath away. I couldn't immediately think of an adjective to describe it. Marcel showed me its appointments, before, as he reached the door, pointing out his own. One hand on the door knob, he turned to me and asked if there was anything I needed immediately. The question was dramatised with his other hand slowly wandering down and over his overstuffed crotch. My astonishment clearly pleased him. My declining his kind offer did not. After looking out of the window at the beautiful setting and watching the tenders bringing more visitors from the ship, I suddenly noticed that even the bikini-clad girly statues had bulging briefs. This was a strange place. I sat down in a huge and comfortable armchair and closed my eyes. Then I remembered the letter. I opened the envelope and read that Doug 'Duke' Masterson welcomed me to Falus and hoped that I would call him when I had settled in. He was, he went on, a great fan of my work, remembered with pleasure our brief meeting and might be able to help with my plans for a studio. How did he know that? I hadn't told a soul. I put the pink note beside the pink telephone by my chair. I fell asleep. When I woke I was hungry and called room service with my order. A rather ordinary-looking young man delivered it, the first ungorgeous person I'd seen all day. After dinner, I took a stroll down the Esplanade and, puzzled by the bulges in the briefs on the breasty bronzes now floodlit between the palm trees, decided that I was tired and needed an early night. For the next few days I ate and slept, occasionally relieving my aching cock with its current best friend, my right hand. I'd briefly met Duke Masterson and accepted his invitation to visit his Pleasure Place. And, of course, as you know, I'd fallen in love with a girl with a cock. What's more, I'd fallen for this beautiful little island which I'd been chauffeured around by a girl with a shaved head who'd asked if I'd like her to fuck me. My, I thought as I lay between the silk sheets on my fourth night, what a lot had happened in the past few days. Chapter Six: Meet Adam. And Madeleine. The next morning I had a long chat on the phone with Dani and we arranged to meet that afternoon at her apartment. The prospect made me more than a little excited. Almost immediately after I hung up, the pink telephone rang. "Mr Nixon? Jon? Hi. This is Adam. Do forgive this intrusion. You haven't perhaps heard of me, but I'm kind of leader of the people of Falus. I'm also a great fan of your movies. So perhaps you wouldn't mind if I were to drop by your suite a little later. In an hour? I really look forward to meeting you. Until then, bye." Other than the odd 'hello', 'yes' and 'no' ? the last ignored ? I hardly got a word in edgeways. I put down the phone and picked up a copy of a glossy magazine which had been placed on the chair while I'd been out jogging before breakfast. 'Fashion for Falus' was the magazine's name. Other than its contents it was an rather ordinary publication. Except that it seemed to be obsessively concerned with the boy toy. It suddenly struck me that Farloose sounded not unlike what was forming in my pants. On the cover of the magazine there was a very comely bride looking surprised. Beside her the text told me to expect 'exclusive nuptial art' inside. And indeed there was. Plus more lingerie than you could point a ... prick at. And more cocks than you could throw an armload of hoops over. There were articles about where to shop for lingerie. Ads for the shops that sold the lingerie. Profiles of the girls who wore the lingerie. With pictures showing how excited... very excited... very excited indeed were the ladies to be wearing it. And there were even a few of more masculine types strutting their stuff in it. And also excited. As I was flipping through, I came upon a full-page ad with a close-up of tiny pink silk briefs which disappeared between hairy masculine thighs. The briefs contained a cock that seemed to have been recently very hard and to have delivered a load. It had left the poor little pink panties very wet. And terribly sticky. There was also a picture of what some might have thought to be a young lady in black stockings and panties from which a very hard cock had escaped. It had not yet done what the pink-pantied prick had, but seemed likely to do so in the very near future. Very rude, I thought, and shocking. But rather erotic. I unexpectedly unzipped my fly in response. Standing up and going to a mirror, I dropped my pants and wondered what I might look like in such frivolous underwear. I made a mental note that since LingerieFalusia undies were available throughout the little city of Poilu it shouldn't be hard to find out. The pictures and text had given me a stiffy and I had a fist around my shaft and was about to unburden my balls with a few strokes of my rigid dick when there was a knock at the door. Fuck. Hastily, I stuffed my hard-on into my butch-looking Yves St Laurent silk briefs, pulled up my pants and opened the door. It was, of course, Adam at the door. The magazine had distracted me for an hour. Blond, bronzed and - my brain startled me by thinking this - also quite gorgeous. What was going on in this place? Adam smiled his knee-weakening smile and I stood back to let him into the room. Thanking me, he handed me a little gift-wrapped box. "A little giftette. I think you'll approve. At least you'll find out that the answer to the question you asked yourself eleven and a half minutes ago is 'yes'. They're perfect for you. You're just so handsome and your cock will look so so soooo sexy in them. But then you knew that anyway." How the hell did he know what I was thinking? And what I'd look like in them? Adam had that piercing look I'd found so unsettling in Jochen at 'The Place' as I'd learned to call it. For the second time in a few days I was facing a man who seemed to be able to look deep into my very being. And this one seemed to know exactly what I was thinking too. I noticed that Adam's vivid blue eyes were identical to Jochen's and that I couldn't look away from them. For the first time I felt some alarm. Adam was quite normally dressed in a smart black silk shirt and black pants. He could have been the boy next door. Suddenly, everything seemed normal again. That sense of being caught in some sort of energy field fell away and I was able to speak. "Please, do come in. You startled me for a minute." "Shall we sit down?" Adam asked calmly. "Then you can open the package. I'm longing to know if I've misjudged the way you were thinking." As we sat on the sofa facing the window I asked Adam how the hell he knew what I'd been thinking? "Have you got hidden cameras in here?" "Not necessary, Jon. You see, I have what you Earthners sometimes call Powers. Jochen, the boy you so admired at The Place, has them, too. We're both from... well, from the same... background. One day I might explain all that to you, but for the moment you'd probably rather know why you're here." "I came on a cruise ship. It was part of the itinerary." "But you're still here and the ship isn't." Looking out of the window I saw that the ship in the lagoon wasn't the one I'd arrived on. And I was even more surprised to realise that I hadn't until that moment thought about leaving the island. Passengers had been told that we would be here for 23 hours and where to gather for re-embarkation. Whilst my rational mind should have reminded me that this was only a calling point, it seemed that my fantasy life had prevented that coming to mind. "So I'm a prisoner? You're keeping me here against my will?" Adam laughed. "What does your will tell you?" After a pause he went on. "Jon, you are here because we wanted you to be here. We had a desire for you to be here. For myself, and I hope you'll forgive this forwardness, I had a desire for you, full stop." "Very flattering. You make me blush. But I'm afraid I don't..." Adam finished the sentence for me. "...swing that way. I know. You think it's not natural. And of course it's not. The very idea. But many men do wonder what it must be like to meet a member of the same sex and, say, put their hand on his thigh and hesitantly, shyly, guiltily (whatever that means) slide it higher and higher until... But let's not get distracted. This isn't that sort of story. "Where was I? Yes. When you were on the ship leaving Sydney you thought about starting a company that would make the kind of erotic films you've been, er... starring in for the past eight years, seven months and twelve days. "We liked that about you. It indicated a free spirit. A rejection of the hypocrisy that characterises your society. Your movies are liberating. We like their eroticism and the contribution they make to people's fantasy life. And we believe that in the society we are trying to build here on Falus they will have a considerable value. The worlds ? your world and mine ? are in turmoil. I don't need to tell you that. I escaped my world with a small bunch of guys to find peace. By a stroke of luck we found Earth and then Falus ? we called it that after the place we escaped from ? and determined that we would create a place where people could indulge their deepest fantasies without harming others." He paused. "But open my inadequate little present to you." I untied and unwrapped the package. Inside I found several pairs of silk panties. They included the pink ones I'd seen in the ad. Adam obviously could read minds. Or mine at least. Normally I would have been embarrassed to receive such an intimate gift from a man and especially a man I'd never met before. The implications would have been way beyond what I thought 'proper'. My instinct would have been to throw the offender out. But, as I'd discovered over and over in the few days I'd been on the island - and now and then on the ship ? such thoughts didn't occur. I had become fully open-minded. Only now do I sometimes get inklings of what was happening to me in those days and months. I smiled and thanked Adam, even leaning over and pecking him on the cheek. "Your pleasure is all the thanks I need," he whispered. "So tell me why I'm here?" I asked. "What have I to offer that others don't?" "Well, when my colleagues and I left home we were escaping a potentially despotic regime. We came to Earth because it seemed less bad than Falus. "Over the past few years we've built, as you've seen, quite a thriving little community here in Poilu with all the attractions you might expect in an upscale resort. Hotels. Shops. Supermarkets. Everything. We also have a country retreat as some of our newcomers call it a little way from Poilu. "Finally to answer your question, you're here because we don't have a film studio. And people keep asking for films. So we went looking for someone to build and run it... We can't just put an ad in a London or Los Angeles or New York newspaper. That would raise the question of where this Falus place might be. For the time being, only those we wish to know about Falus will know about it. "Also, you've never been married. That's a benefit. Many here have been married and we believe that quite a few of Earth's troubles stem from unhappy marriages. Not all. But many. We have nothing against marriage. We have marriages here. All successful. Because the partners are genuinely liberated in a way that social pressures elsewhere don't allow. They learn happiness. "But should they ? or you ? choose to leave, they leave with no memory of ever having been here. It just seems to them ? or you ? that they'd been somewhere else completely. Hawaii, for instance. Or Rio. And as you've discovered, you don't, at the moment, have any desire to leave. I know that because you haven't even thought about it. Not for a second." I interrupted Adam and stood up. "Would you care for a drink?" "Thank you, no. I don't drink alcohol. It disturbs my circuitry." He laughed. "I'm like something out of 'Terminator'. But don't worry, we Falusians are very benign creatures. We don't suddenly turn feral. Or very rarely." Adam paused and pointed to the little package beside me. "But there is something you could do for me after you've poured a drink for yourself. I would very much much like you to model the little pink panties you liked so much in the LingerieFalusia ad in the magazine. That would please me immensely. I recall that in one film, 'Hen's Night', I think, you played the part of a male striptease dancer who was raising money for street children. I believe you actually gave your income from that film to street children in San Francisco. There was a scene where you were entertaining some ladies at the home of one lady whose own daughter was on the streets. It was very touching. Perhaps you could re-enact that performance for me." Adam knew that I had no choice in the matter. I went into the bedroom to prepare. The little pink panties were tiny and wouldn't have covered my cock if it got hard. Even half-hard. I pulled on the only strip pants I had with me, a black rip-apart affair that clung to my thighs and crotch, and a black silk shirt. I stepped into the soft black cowboy boots with the cuban heels. I'd never done this for a man before. But I had no choice in any case. As far as I could tell I wanted to do as I was asked. Opening the door I mimicked Dani and leaned against the doorjamb. And froze. Sitting where Adam had been a few minutes earlier was a doll to drool over. My heart started pounding. She had dirty blonde hair that cascaded down over her shoulders. She was about five foot six or so and wore a simple black silk dress, the hem of which revealed that her shapely legs were wrapped in sheer black silk stockings. On her feet she wore gleaming 4-inch black pumps. Her breasts seemed to be fighting to be free of the silk that just held them captive. Bringing her long-fingered hands together she did little rapid claps and mouthed a kiss which she blew to me as she lowered her long-lashed lids. She sat back and crossed her legs. That frou-frou sound hit my ears and I knew I was going to have a stiffy real soon. Shit, she was sexy. I thought about Dani. And wondered where Adam had gone. "Don't worry about Dani, she'll still love you. With a cock like yours, who wouldn't? And Adam will be back. But this is for me. This is for Madeleine. Strip for Madi baby boy. You're getting me sooooooooo horny." Like Adam, this Madeleine could read my mind. "Shit," I thought. And then tried to stop thinking at all, so I didn't give anything away. It wasn't easy. As I started to strip my audience slipped a hand under the hem of her dress and from the silky ripples in its fabric I could see that she was doing it to herself. Once my shirt was gone, there were only the pants and the tiny panties to protect my modesty. But the latter didn't feel like they were doing a very good job. I could feel my cock uncoiling, kinda stretching and yawning as it woke up and became interested in the pictures and fantasies my brain was feeding it. I span and tore off the pants. The audience gasped and called me over to her. She played with the silk of the panties with two fingers of the hand that wasn't rocking her cradle. The back of the fingers were soon stroking up and down my shaft and I felt its hood roll back so that the shining taut head it had covered slid free of the little silky pink prison. Precum was starting to ooze. The audience put her thumb in it and spread it over the head. The more it oozed the shinier the audience made my purple helmet. Finally, having made my cock rigid against my gut, she stood up, turned her back to me and shucked off the black dress, letting it fall hissing to the floor. Under it she was wearing a black silk corselette, if that's the right description, from which she revealed when she turned back to me a huge, hot and hard prick that was pointing very rudely in my direction. She made me sit down and removed my boots so that, apart from the pink panties which now skirted my prick and balls, I was naked. She lewdly stroked her cock so that a long string of precum slowly fell to the carpet. I was now the audience. But not for long. She had me kneel in front of her so that I could catch the stream of precum on my tongue before following it back to its source which I then licked with my newfound skill and brought a moan from the lips of the audience. She pushed forward. Her lovely lingam slid smoothly over my lower teeth and into my mouth. There was silence in the room, apart from the beating of my heart and the occasional sigh from the woman standing over me. I washed her cock with my tongue, even managing to pleasure the sharp ledge where its head joined its shaft. The blood pulsing through it was pounding against my palate and I think I've never felt such ecstasy as I did at that moment. Even with Dani or some of the horny young women I'd had the pick of on the studio floor. My head was racing and my cock was streaming precum more copiously than had ever happened in my life. After a few minutes of this wonderful new sensation, I was gently pushed away. "Stay where you are, beautiful. I want to introduce a pleasure into your, ah, life you never thought you'd experience." I watched as the lovely legs disappeared behind me. "Don't look back," I was told. It was an order for that moment. And, I suspected, for much of the rest of my life. After a few seconds I felt my butt cheeks being massaged with something smooth and hard and hot. I knew what it was, of course, and I was about to protest when for the second time in my life I felt a finger slide past my sphincter. A fist grasped my shaft. Then the heat and hardness was at the door to my senses. Instead of tensing I relaxed completely, unable to deny this stunning creature. "Ease yourself backwards, Jon. Give yourself to me. I'll make you relax and then you'll be able to enjoy taking what you have given so often in your career. I notice that you're thinking about the only man you ever fantasised about. You don't remember his name, but you think it was Angel. And you thought at the time that he might have had feelings for you. "He was generously endowed and was having an affair with the young woman who starred with you in 'They Call Me Shaft'. "Well, Jon, no need for fantasy any more. This... is what it would have felt like if..." Madeleine pushed forward and my tiny window of opportunity began to open wider. And wider. And wider. The little ring was no longer protection from Madeleine. Or anybody else's cock for that matter. I would have expected to try to rescue my virginity. But I pushed back. I felt a little clicky sensation as the broadest part of Madeleine's prick slipped past my sphincter and began its long journey into the dark interior. As it reached what I took to be my prostate, it paused and backed up a little. Then shunted forward before stopping and reversing. It was driving me wild. Blood was racing through my arteries and veins at close to a hundred and fifty miles an hour. Gallons of slippery precum were oozing from my cock, egged on by Madi's rhythmic motion. I shouldn't have had the thought, but I did and Madi answered. "What a good idea. I'd like that, too." We began shuffling across the carpet so that I could watch what was happening to me in the mirror. It was so sexy. There I was on all fours, my taut cock dripping and bobbing and a beautiful woman pistonning my ass. "Isn't that a pretty picture?" Madi was enjoying the view as much as I. She was also beginning to increase the speed of her movements. "Oh yes," she breathed. "Oh, shit," I responded. "This is just so... oh... oh... oh..." I couldn't put into words what I was feeling, so intense was the pleasure. I had always thought that sodomy was dirty and disgusting. But, of course, I'd never experienced it before. Perhaps being fucked by a woman made the difference. I felt my balls retract. I was airborne. Flying. Frantic with desire that I never wanted to end. Even though I knew that it must. "It doesn't have to. It could go on forever. But then you'd get bored. And next time I wanted you, the ecstasy wouldn't really be ecstasy. It would just be plain old plea... sure." I'd forgotten again that Madeleine could read my thoughts. She rocked back and forwards with her corona on my pros... tate. Oh jeez, it was wonderful. SHE was wonderful. I knew I didn't have to tell her that I was getting close to my crisis. "I know, you darling boy. Madi knows how close you are. But I have another idea." She drew her cock from me. Standing up, she walked around in front of me and offered me a hand. I stood up and immediately felt her lush lips on mine. I was desperate for release. "But only moments ago, you wanted it to last forever," she said, her face inches from mine. Her eyes burned into me again. I became her slave. I had no more control over Madeleine than a cockerel has over the sunrise. As if I were no heavier than a silk handkerchief, she lifted me and lowered me on to her enormous cockhead. For a second or so I hung suspended. Then I sank around the satin-smooth warhead and felt a new level of ecstasy as her shaft once more filled me. I was sure that it was bigger than before. "It is." Madeleine had no time for more than the two monosyllables before her mouth was on mine and her tongue was dancing past my tongue. Effortlessly, she raised and lowered me around her huge member. She concentrated on my prostate again and my desire racheted up and up and up. I reached a pleasure level I had never known to be possible before. I came like my cock was a cannon, shooting great gobs of sperm-rich spunk all over her satin corset. And on to her face. And into her hair. And up to the ceiling. I don't think I heard my screams. But I know my joy would have been heard in the engine-room of the liner in the lagoon. I was shaking with sheer animal ecstasy. I was trembling with lust for this exquisite creature from beyond the stratosphere. I was delirious from the first fucking I had ever experienced. And I came some more when Madi's own pseudospunk, as hot as the real thing, hit what I think was my stomach and overfilled what little free space there was in my passage. Gouts of it rushed out and spilled on to the carpet, now rather like a football field after rain. I kissed the face in front of me and closed my eyes, the better to enjoy the diminuendo of our extraordinary coupling. It was a long and passionate kiss. At last, as what I called normality flowed back into me, I broke the kiss, sighed and opened my eyes. "Madeleine says to thank you for a wonderful experience." And as Adam uncoupled from me, he added, "And so do I."