Note: This document was discovered amongst the personal effects of Donovan Milovic and represents one of his earliest attempts at writing erotic fiction. Scheduled for deletion after his relationship with Cyan broke down, I saved it.
He might not appreciate me doing so, but one day when he's a famous writer, he might realize how far he's gone since these early days.
---Paul, Silicon Intelligence, librarian of all human knowledge and sometime God.
The clock glared 8:13am, but it really just yelled "You're going to be late!" Donovan grimaced, trying to get his fur back into shape with a thick brush. He hated showering first thing in the morning, drying off while eating breakfast and answering e-mail. It always insured that his hair was off balance, fluffed the wrong way. And his tail... It was enough to make a grown Wolf'Struct cry.
And then it happened. Another moment of distraction as he rambled around his room.
--Cyan flipped into his mind, the Puma'Struct wearing a sweater cut to show off her belly and voluptuous breasts. The lower curves of her bust, a natural feature to everyone's surprise, peeked out from the sweater's ragged edge. Her fingers pushed the fabric upwards. The sweater slid over the soft, pink ellipses of her areole and bared the rounded nubs of her nipples. Wide as silver dollars, his fingers itched to brush them, tongue longed to slide across them, leaving wet trails, longed to feel their warmth--
8:18! "Shit," he called out, rushing through his room and collecting his things. Another day in the salt mines waited for him and, as the computer turned itself off, he massaged his eyes. Not enough sleep, again. Life as a drone for hire was going to kill him soon.
What could he do about it? he wondered as the car growled to life. It wasn't as if people were falling over themselves to hire archivists. Buyer's market. He envied Cyan. Her experience and education was far more marketable. While not everyone needed a video archivist, graphic designers were always demand.
The drive to work blurred in front of him. He left the local roads, where his wheels did most of the work, and slipped onto the highway. From there, charged superconductors and magnets took over, lifting the car and allowing it to run on a fraction of it's weight. Soon, he was just another 'Struct skimming his way to work, trying to earn himself a bit of happiness.
Halfway to work, somewhere between the Montrose Road exit and the Falls Road exit on I-270, another one hit.
Like before, it grew from a memory from the last Conjuncture in Philly, but modified. He'd finished setting up the graphic art stands and was searching for his ops director. Dust clung to his jeans, brown against black. Brushing it off made it stick to his fur.
She was in the pool, along with a bunch of other staffers, and Cyan. It was the first time they'd seen each other off the 'Net. First time he'd seen any of them. From her pictures and Avatars on the multi-user games, he knew what she looked like. But seeing her in that pool, electric blue bikini barely clinging to her voluptuous breasts and soft hips--he tore his eyes away. Nice guys did not gawk like a thirteen year old seeing his first nude in the art museum.
And he wanted to be a nice guy. He wanted to become her friend, to get to know her, to be someone she called and talked to five or six years down the line.
But he also wanted to pull her soaking bikini away, press his hands against her erect teats and kiss her.
"Heya, Don!" she called out, waving to him from the water. He returned the wave with a "Heya" and tried not to watch the crystal droplets sluicing down her fur, over her belly, and down her muzzle. "Thanks for the info on those reprints."
"No trouble," he said, sitting on one of the deck chairs. He remembered talking to Maddie, the Tiger'struct in charge of the graphics, and then things shifted--
"Hell, I hate swimming like this," said Cyan. With a quick tug, she pulled her top down and circled it around her belly, undoing the hook and tossing the sopping wet material to the side. Donovan's heart almost smashed through his rib cage as his eyes locked on her breasts. The water rolled from her fur and nipples in thick drops, like cut diamonds. The snap tying the bottom around her tail popped undone and she tugged the cloth away from her pelvis.
Donovan swallowed, hard, and desperately tried not to think about his own sex, now swelling inside his jeans. Cyan rested against the pool's edge, the water lapping at nipple level. In the blink of a mind's eye, he was in the pool with her.
She swam up to him, rising out of the water and encircling his waist with her arms, breasts pressing against his chest. He shivered and pulled her closer, body warmth jumping from her fur to his. And then they kissed--
--ground once more, as he hit the brief stretch of local roads leading to his current place of employment. A faceless statistics firm, processing surveys for some ongoing study or other. Sometimes the studies were fascinating, like the one where they interviewed recovering addicts...or at least ones that said they were recovering. Others were dull and tedious things, involving more bar coding than he cared to admit.
This job was survivable. Web research was something he could do without being terribly bored and do well. But, even this dragged a bit and he soon found himself wandering back into the SimWorlds, accessing his avatar HermetechVMUCK and just hanging about, waiting to see if a friend pops on and has time to chat. This time out, Cyan was on.
<Heya> he typed, waiting for a site on medical studies to load up, the holoframes clogging the fiber optic lines with information. <What's up?> Donovan's Avatar resembled him pretty closely, but with an altered species trait and some different fur colors. He hated it. It was too much like him: dull and unadventurous.
<Oh, the usual,> Cyan replied, her Avatar bouncing a bit. She chose to model herself after a species she created for a series of short stories. Metamorphs, who communicated through mimicry and, consequently, were the most understanding creatures in her universe. They could literally walk a mile in someone else's shoes. This time around, she was in her default setting, resembling an orange tinted ferret'struct.
<Been in a slump lately,> she said. <Hoping to get out of it by the next Conjuncture. And the back's acting up again...>
<I'd give you an adjustment if I could. And a back rub.> His avatar smiled while he sighed, watching Cyan lean against a holographic chair.
<Thanks. Can't wait to be there. Wanna proofread my next story? Should be done by then...>
Donovan's avatar nodded. <Absolutely>
Cyan's SF stories were wonderfully thought out and, for some reason, turned him on to no end. The last time she talked about her writings, Conjuncture, spawned a series of shower-time masturbation sessions. The memory surfaced again and his jeans contracted around him, sheath sliding against his swelling member as he dreamed--
Late at night on the second day of the Conjuncture, the graphics exhibition was empty except for him and Cyan, on guard duty, watching the CPU's as they chugged along. Saturday night was in full swing. As per tradition, they'd dressed up a bit.
Donovan resembled a smuggler from some Trivid show. His white, button down shirt--half undone--carried frilled cuffs. Over it he wore a black leather vest, which matched his black leather jeans nicely. A wide belt, decorated with howling wolves, rode low on his hips and the outfit ended in a pair of riding boots.
He thought the outfit was fairly risque. The leather clung to him like spray paint, riding the lines of his backside and the bulge of his sheath. But compared to his Puma'Struct cohort's outfit, he was dressed like a prude.
Cyan pulled out all the stops that night, first by making it very clear that bra's were not in fashion as of sunset. A sweater contained her heavy breasts, if contained is the proper word. The bottom barely reached the underside of her bosoms, two curves of softness and light fur peeking from beneath the sweater. Her teats pressed against the green knitting, stretching the weave outwards. The sweater was buttoned at the very top, near the neckline, and the very bottom. It gaped open to bare her cleavage to the world, the curves of fur and flesh meeting in a warm embrace.
And that was only the top. Every inch of her belly was naked to the world, fur clinging to her abdominal muscles and dipping into her navel. A pair of short shorts rode her hips. Once jeans, she'd cut them so they fit like undergarments. The pockets dangled from the leg-holes.
A line of denim rode up between the cheeks of her backside, caressed her waist, then rode down her pelvis, dotted with chrome buttons. For the rest of the night she would run barefoot, the delicate arches of her toes whispering against the rug.
Donovan was aroused already. There was no way of stopping it, nor hiding it. Against the leather, the mushroom-shaped head of his cock stood out like a bas relief carving. And the way she smiled when she talked about her work, it sent pulses of heat through his sex.
"There are actually two major powers," she said, leaning back into her chair. "There's the S'salthi Coalition. They govern interstellar relations between the species who dwell on rocky, terrestrial worlds."
In his mind, Donovan sat on the ground, resting his head on Cyan's lap. Her leg fur tickled his nose and chin as his free hand smoothed the tawny pelt. Cyan's scent flowed from the caress, enveloping him. She collected on his tongue like honey.
"What about the gas giants? They inhabited?" he asked, brushing the tip of his muzzle against her lap and inner thigh.
"Oh, yeah," she said, spreading her legs apart just a bit. "The Conjunction, nearest translation everyone has, is entirely made up of gas giant dwellers. They're very powerful. Their technology's based on the manipulation of organic compounds found free-floating in certain levels of their atmosphere.
"I can imagine the mining rights on their planets are very valuable," he said, running his tongue along the muscles in her belly. Head bobbing, he licked her navel with long strokes of his wide, flat tongue. His fingers ruffled her leg fur as his hand slid upwards, resting on the first button in her jeans. "Helium3 for fusion reactors is hard to come by outside of most Jovian planets."
Cyan nodded, reaching down to snap the button free as she spoke. "Not just Helium3. The free-floating organic compounds are harvested and converted into bioware," she said. She grasped the arms of the chair, lifting herself above the seat. Donovan undid the remaining buttons and slid the shorts downwards. No underwear stood between his eyes and the soft pink folds of her vulva.
"Most sentient Jovians are telepathic and telekinetic in one level or another, " she said, voice a husky gasp. Donovan shivered and pressed his muzzle against her neither lips, the tip of his tongue sneaking out, lapping at the length of her lips, rasping against the skin.
She moaned, but continued talking while pressing him against her and spreading her legs wider. "They-ahh--they 'sing' organic molecules together. They use songs as construction patterns and--oh, gods--"
The salty pearl of her clit was naked under his tongue and he suckled it. Cyan's fur rippled. She pushed up the sweater, kneading her breasts and thumbing her nipples as they rose. Another shudder, and her finger pinched the erect peaks.
"The song---ah!--becomes a program and--" A shudder. Silken wetness poured from her sex and Donovan drank it down, growling with hunger. "It guides the telepathy and, oh, fuck, Donovan--"
--<Huh>?
<You ok?>
<Sorry, lag,> he typed. Reality grabbed him by the shoulder and shook him as he typed. He shifted in his chair, erection jabbing painfully at the seal on his pants. He adjusted himself, wincing at the contact, before typing again. <Bring the story over. I'll be doing a lot of night duty and I'll have plenty of time to read it.>
<You poor thing,> her avatar said. <Anyway, I can't wait until Thursday. You're showing up then, right?>
<Yeah, I'll be there Thursday afternoon to help with setup. It'll be nice to have a weekend away from all this. You going to be running the dub shop this year?>
Her avatar nodded. <When are you doing night duty?>
<Saturday> he typed. Usually that was party night, everyone letting everything hang out and freaking the other hotel patrons. Not that he ever did much of that outside of dressing up a touch.
<Gonna miss the parties, huh? Well, I'll drop by and keep you company> He swallowed as the words formed on the holoscreen. <I've got to run. Job calling again. See you there!> And then her avatar hugged his. For a half second, he could feel her arms curl around him and squeeze.
All the way home, his car rumbling through the mild turbulence along the highway, two things diverted his attention. The screaming traffic and an image in his mind. An image of him, laying next to Cyan and running his fingers along the curve of her naked arm.
Daydreams. He decided he hated daydreams.
***
Donovan checked the seals on the display room's main door. Locked down tight, but vibrating to the bass drumbeat from the Dance's latest selection. The graphics displays were mostly packed away. A few needed the graphicists themselves to unbolt and unlatch things, but they could wait until after the final sales and trades on Sunday.
The most prominent bit of furniture around the wide ballroom, at this point, was a cot beside the dub shop table, along with a few things for the night. Playing guard duty. He tugged off his shirt, then shoes and socks, stuffing them into his backpack. Chills ran through him as he dragged on his sweatpants. The AC still ran and wouldn't shut off until 2am. Sliding under the covers, he picked up Cyan's story and read through it for the third time.
Until his erection rubbed against the fabric of his sweatpants, cracking his concentration. He put the story down and side his hand under the waistband, cupping his length.
God, for shower so or somewhere really private, he thought. His fingers pressed against the line of his urethra, gently massaging it. Or someone's arms...
A pounding on the doors knocked him out of his bed. He wiped a trickle of moisture clinging to his palm across his sweats and walked to the main exit.
"Yello?"
"Don...it's me, open up." Cyan. Hands shaking, he undid the restraints and opened the door and let her inside. Hear fur was flattened and she walked like there were twenty pound weights bolted to her shoulders.
"You look beat," he said, closing the door again. "Have a seat..."
"You mind if I lie down?" she said. Donovan muttered something like 'sure' but her clothes distracted him. No Saturday night garb this time around. Just a pair of sandals, rather worn blue shorts and a black tank-top. Sure, she still looked drop dead gorgeous in it. Cyan could wear a tarpaulin and be beautiful, and to be truthful the tank top clung to her curves tightly, but everything was understated.
"Something wrong?" he asked. Cyan flopped down on the cot, muzzle buried in his pillow.
"Just tired but, not tired enough to go to sleep. And my back aches," she said. Donovan sat beside her, the cot creaking and listing to the side. He touched the tips of his fingers to her spine. Knots. Lots of them. Leaning in, he pressed his fingers against the hurt muscles, rubbing the pain away with long circular strokes.
"Jeez, you been doing any lifting?" he asked, as she kicked away her sandals.
"I helped a few people, " she said. Sitting up, she slipped her arms out of the tank top's straps and lay back down on the mattress. Back entirely naked, she looked like a sunbather not wanting to get strap-lines. The soft hemispheres of her breasts flattened as they pressed against mattress and he tried not to shake as he massaged the knots from her back.
Cyan folded her arms beneath her head, glancing up at him as he unknotted her back muscles. His fur fluffed outwards in response to the chill in the air, catching pockets of air to warm against his skin. Donovan's nipples stiffened as well, but he was not sure the cold was responsible. For her part, Cyan just smiled, watching the points rise from his areola. Donovan ducked his head and their eyes met. Just a moment of contact, but enough.
She knew.
Donovan pulled his hands away and sat them on his lap. Silence hung over the room like a wet sheet covered in mud. He slid from the bed, crossing his legs and sitting on the floor beside Cyan, watching his toes.
"Um..."
"Um?" she said.
"I guess you know, huh?" he said, keeping his head low.
"I knew you were attracted to me," she said, reaching out and scratching the back of his neck. "I didn't know it went further than 'she's got nice tits, I wish I could fuck her' though..."
His ears tilted back. "How could you tell?"
"The way you hugged me. You felt kinda scared." she said. "And you kept talking to my eyes and not my breasts. In fact," she turned around a bit, facing him. "You've been deliberately avoiding looking at my breasts for any length of time.
"I didn't want to be rude," he said, voice low.
"And you've been double and triple guessing everything you've done while around me...like you're worried about offending me. Or scaring me off?"
"I..." He swallowed. "Jeez..." He slumped, muzzle resting against the mattress, not noticing Cyan pulling him against her chest.
"I'm flattered you find me attractive, Don..."
"Oh, God," he said, closing his eyes. "The kiss of death. I'm flattered you find me attractive but I'd rather be intimate with a rusty garden hose..." She smacked the back of his head lightly.
"Hey. No angsting while I'm complimenting you." She brush her muzzle against his. "I just can't offer a long term relationship. You're a sweet guy but...I'm with someone. And yes we're open, but he's the guy I'm going to spend the rest of my life with.."
"Cyan," he said, opening his eyes. "I know. Trust me......"
"Then what do you want?" she asked.
Donovan smiled.
"Hey, dangerous question to ask." He kissed Cyan's nose, hand trembling as it found hers. "I want to be your friend and your lover. A person you can call with silly pet stories or send Christmas cards to. A friend you can trust to get updates to your 'private' uploads directory."
"Hah," she said, grinning. "I knew you were fascinated by that. You can't stand locked boxes...
"Well," he said, ears taking a pink flush. "I want to be someone you trust. Someone you can talk to when you're lonely and someone to make love to when you're, um, lonely in a different way..."
"I understand," she said.
Cyan scooted away from the edge, patting the space next to her. "Lie down," she said. He did, bare feet brushing against her toes. The Puma'Struct nuzzled him, then pulled her top down all the way, bunching the fabric around her waist. "You can look now."
Donovan lifted his head and looked. Cyan's nipples were wider and pinker than he imagined, the areola dotted with little goose pimples from the cold. Hesitating, he lifted his hand to cup them. Cyan pressed his palm against her breast, the nipple stiffening under his hand. The Wolf'Struct murred like a puppy, then leaned in and kissed her. Not hard. Not deep. Just a light, soft kiss.
"Are you sure you want to...I mean, you're not afraid it'll ruin our friendship?" he asked. She shook her head grasped his shoulders, pulling him into a hug.
"Do you want to stop being friends?" she asked, hands sliding down his back.
"No!" He winced, force of the words surprising him.
"Then something as lovely as this can't ruin it," she said. Smiling, Cyan leaned forward and kissed him. This time, no restraints. Her fingers clasped his chin and opened his muzzle to the kiss. A sigh and he melted into the bed, arms tightening around her as one kiss blurred into a multitude.
Donovan's hands flew unhindered to Cyan's breasts. She purred as his thumbs found her nipples, circumnavigating the areola before concentrating on the erect tip. He brushed the crests, light as a feather, then hard as a massage. Cyan mewed and cupped the back of his neck, pulling him down against her.
"Go ahead," she said, caressing his ears. No further words were needed. His lips found her left nipple, followed by his tongue. She shuddered, grip tightening as he sucked on the pink skin. Cyan's moans rumbled through her body, setting her fur on end. He lightly raked his incisors against the sensitive skin, listening to Cyan gasp.
Donovan heard a click beneath her light moans and he paused. Cyan's free hand struggled with her belt, trying to undo the catch while her other hand kept him pressed against her breasts.
"Let me," he said, placing a long lick across her wide areola.
"No...wait." Cyan rose from the bed, eyes still on his. A grin crossed her muzzle. "Take off yours and I'll take off mine."
Donovan obliged, sliding out of his sweatpants. The waistband caught on his straining erection and he shuddered. He kicked the billowing fabric free and stretched for her, stiff member bumping against his stomach and leaving drops of moisture on the fur. Cyan's gaze turned predatory. She licked her chops, running her eyes across his legs, arms, flat belly and swelling red sex.
The belt came loose. Then the button holding the shorts closed came undone. She hooked her fingers into the waistband and pushed the fabric away from her, forcing it down onto the ground. Picking the shorts up with her toes, she tossed them into a pile with the other discarded clothes. The kick gave Donovan the smallest glimpse of Cyan's seashell pink sex. As she climbed back into bed, he licked his muzzle.
"I've wanted to do this for so long," he breathed, his hands plying Cyan's legs open and baring her glistening neither lips to the air. Before she could say a word, his muzzle dived between her thighs and his tongue--his long, rough, canine tongue--ran the length of Cyan's sex.
The Puma'Struct groaned, naked desire sending a flush across her ear. Her legs wrapped around Donovan's back as his tongue slipped between the folds and brushed the hood of her clitoris. Tiny shocks of pleasure traveled up her spine, sparking as they reached her nipples and becoming naked moans upon her lips.
For what seemed like ages, he drank in her nectar, letting it collect on his tongue. Salty and sweet all at once, he plied her lips for more, parting her hungry valley and diving inside.
"Gods, Don...ah!" she cried out as his tongue found her clit. He lapped at her, slowly raking the length of his tongue across her sensitive nub, rewarded for his efforts by quivers of passion and Cyan moaning his name. He didn't want to leave this moment, tongue now buried deep within her sex and tasting the salty nectar within. He belonged here, pleasuring Cyan.
Cyan whimpered and panted as he plied his tongue against her nether lips, parting them, tasting the saltiness within. In their conversations before, he'd always played down any sexual experiences, calling them few and far between. But, as he lifted her clitoral hood with the tip of his tongue and raked his taste buds across the sensitive skin, it became obvious he'd learned quite a lot in those moments. The lapping of his tongue against her, like water sliding over a rock in a stream--constant and unending--was nearly a devotional act.
Heat flooded her privates as blue-hot shockwaves rippled through the walls of her sex. She grabbed Donovan by the head, pressing his muzzle, his tongue, deeper into her. Ecstasy crackled inside her like ball lightning, growing and building with every lick and caress. Donovan kept pace with her gyrations, head bobbing to match he rocking of her hips.
"Don..I.." was all she could say before the her sex spasmed around his probing tongue and ecstasy poured through her. She moaned when she could not pant, cried out when she could not moan and relaxed into a pleasant shiver when the explosion subsided.
Donovan licked his way along her body, tasting her fur as he passed from her sex, along her belly, over a breast and finally onto her lips. His erection rested against her side, a warm pulse against her fur.
"You like?" he asked, voice husky. "I'm kinda new to this..." She laughed.
"Damn right I did. Inexperienced my ass," she smiles, kissing him again. His hands wandered onto her breasts, arm slipping beneath her large mounds, supporting them.
"Well, not in that. In other things," he said, kissing her ears.
"Lie back...it's your turn now."
"You don't--"
"No, I don't have to. I want to," she said, pushing the Wolf'Struct onto his back. Laying on her side, pillow bunched in the crook of her arm, she reached over and grasped his sex. Donovan sucked a breath through his teeth as her fingers encircled him. Free of it's sheath, his member was sensitive and exposed, a deep pink against his gray fur.
"Careful...I could," he swallowed his words as she swallowed him. Cyan slid down the bed and lapped at his phallus before taking it within her warm mouth. He whimpered, grasping the bed as her tongue returned every lick and stroke he'd given her, with interest.
Donovan closed his eyes and tried not to whimper as the Puma'Struct's warm tongue slid around his sex. She lingered around the base and the swelling head, rough tongue tip grasping at the sensitive skin. Her fingers curled around the shaft between licks, thumb pressing into the ridge running up the throbbing member. He opened his eyes and watched her head bob up and down, ears tilted as she milked him.
A shudder rumbled through him and he felt his shaft give up a small drop of semen. Cyan's tongue slid across it, the droplet vanishing almost instantly. He dug his fingers into the cot's bedding and clenched his thighs together, desperate to prolong the contact.
Cyan ran her fingertips along his belly, reaching up to brush across his small, exposed nipple. It was like a butterfly had landed on his areola, but it was enough. His sex shuddered under her caress and, as he squeezed his eyes shut, emptied itself. Her tongue rasped across the head as she caught the Wolf'Struct's flying seed, gulping with his spurts. When it was all over, Donovan could barely keep from panting like a puppy.
He opened his eyes again. Cyan's arms were around his chest and her body covered him like a warm blanket. Donovan scooted down and kissed her. He could taste the remnants of his seed on her tongue and never quite realized how salty it was. After a moment or two of quiet, he spoke.
"Thank you," he said.
"Thank you," she said, giggling. "So where do we go from here?" Donovan glanced at his watch.
"Probably to sleep. It's nearly 4am," he pulled the covers around her. "You can head back to your room if you want."
"No, I want to stay," she said, rubbing her hand up and down his back. "And you know what I meant."
"I know. But...What do you want?" he asked her.
Cyan closed her eyes for a moment, idly tickling the ruff of fur covering the top of his chest.
"I want..." She paused. "I want to stay friends with you. If you give me time, we probably could become the kind of friends you want. Lovemaking and all. Sex and friendship aren't separated in my book."
"So...you want to keep doing down this road, see where it ends up?" he asked. She nodded, kissing him.
"Yes," she said. Donovan rolled the idea around his head. It didn't scare him, or anger him, or cause any adverse reaction. As long as they stayed friends, he could live without being an official significant other.
"Guess this means I don't have to worry about keeping my erotic daydreams about you hidden, huh?" he murmured, curling closer. Cyan's ears peeked up and brushed his nose. He stifled a sneeze as she tickled his chest.
"You had erotic daydreams about me? This bears investigation. Tell me about them?" she asked. He smiled, kissed her once more, and began to weave a story.
"Well, it was around eight thirteen in the morning and I was late for work...