I don’t know if this is just Trudy or because she is so horny, but a slow fucking isn’t enough for her. I am far faster than I am with any of the other woman I’ve been with in this group. I wouldn’t classify this as fast. Fast is for the end. This is more than just a medium speed, though.
Any slower, and she is bored. This is one freaky sister. I love it though, she is unique. How did any woman ever satisfy her? From what I have seen of woman on woman, they tend to be slow and gentle. Their lovemaking is more emotional, with subtle touching and kissing. Men like me have a tool, and we love to use it.
Sure, I eat pussy, but even I do it faster and harder than a woman would. She can get millions, heck, billions to eat her like a woman. Our entire planet probably has only hundreds of living men. With men taking the dangerous jobs, life expectancy for us is much shorter.
I guess I was lucky to have been raised by Mary. I was only an asset to her, just like a test tube, a tool she used. She could be cruel, but I was still far better off than the average guy’s experience. In many ways, I was protected because of my intelligence.
I lost track of myself while daydreaming and found myself at nearly full speed. How long have I been doing this? I am worn out. Sweat is all over me and dripping from my forehead into my eyes. No need to hold back. I am going to shoot my load at any moment. I will myself to move faster. I won’t shorten my length for the extra speed. I can’t handle that, and she needs the length for maximum happiness.
If I can’t get her off, at least I can make her enjoy the ride longer. My toes are curling. I fight off the glorious feeling. My body is tensing. I fight the inevitable. On my next thrust, I stop long enough to shoot a rope of cum deep into Trudy’s body. I pull out and thrust in using all my strength. I shoot another rope of cum deep into her body. Trudy finally orgasms and clamps down on my cock.
My vision is narrowing; I pull out and thrust in hard again. I fire off another strong rope of cum. I am being held tight. I can see her face. She rolls us over, and then she kisses me. I shoot my last rope of cum. I hear my door open. I fall asleep. I have no idea who’s in the doorway.
Chapter 13 — Why Cars Don’t Fly
I am woken from my sleep. Everyone is in my room. Something’s wrong; the ship is silent. As I gain my senses, two bodies are in bed with me. In front of me is a still sleeping Trudy. She is waking up now, and like me, she could have slept a lot longer.
It’s mom’s voice behind me that’s the most annoyed, “What? What’s so damn important that we need to be woken up?” (This sounds like it should be coming from Trudy, who is sleeping after sex)
An annoyed Carla answers, “Hey bitch. I don’t care if you’re Queen of half the galaxy. That’s my man you’re in bed with, and we have a major problem.”
I am still groggy, “This was Mary’s ship. Can’t she fix it? What about Zai?”
Mary is in the doorway, “We blew an engine. You must go outside and replace it. Zai can manufacture a new one, something she is doing right now. However, it takes a human to install it.”
Tammi asks, “With all the transforming this ship can do, you’re telling me it can’t swap out an engine?”
Mary is frustrated with the simple (to her) child, “This isn’t magic what I do. It’s more like smoke and mirrors, an illusion if you like. This ship can look like the latest Battle Cruiser, yet it’s still the same ship. I can make the engines look like a racer or a heavy-duty transport, yet it’s still what it is. I can make my medium lasers look like a colossal, yet it still hits like a medium.
“In this case, it’s just a breakdown. There has never been a machine built that didn’t eventually fail. The more complicated the machine, the more likely a failure will occur. It’s true; there is much that Zai can fix. A complicated engine with lines that need welding and electrical plugs that need attaching is beyond her means.”