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Message-ID: <35104asstr$1012993804@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: JackBro <jackbro_99@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Mission to a New World (FM, MF, Voy, size, ScFi)
Date: Wed,  6 Feb 2002 06:10:05 -0500
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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First 3 Chapters of "Mission to a New World."  See
enclosures.  Others to follow.

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<1st attachment, "Mission to a New World, Chapter 1.txt" begin>

Mission to a New World (MF, ScFi, size, bond)

		By JackBro (JackBro_99@Yahoo.com)

Chapter 1: The Mission

				D-6

Summary: An X-rated science fiction story.  Debbie and Brian are 
two explorers from Earth sent to an alien planet to recover a 
crashed surveillance satellite.  On the surface live the Longtons, a 
humanoid, pre-industrial revolution culture where the women are 
subservient to the males.  Debbie soon discovers why the women 
willingly allow themselves to be subservient, and in the end she 
wants to stay (M/F, F/M, exh, size, bond).

			* * * * * 

Warning: The following story is fiction, and the acts depicted in 
the story should remain fiction.  It is intended for the entertainment 
of mature adults only.  Be advised explicit sex is contained within 
and should not be read by minors.

			* * * * *

"Come in Ms. Kitlras," Captain Rileymen offers.  "Have a seat.  
We have much to discuss, and I think you will find it most 
interesting."

His office looks better furnished than my apartment.  A couch sits 
along one wall, a desk in front of the other.  Large paintings hang 
on the wall; all display scenes of ships and seas.  An end table has 
one of those antique sailing ships in a bottle.  It is strange to see 
such luxury so far out in space, but then Captain Rileymen had 
many years to collect it.  He is a graying old man now, 
approaching retirement, but I think he must have once been a 
young ensign on the seas of earth in the infancy of planetary space 
travel.

"Debbie," I introduce myself, attempting to sound confident when 
we shake hands.  "Please, call me Debbie.  I'm a civilian scientist 
you know; not an officer."

"Then Debbie it is," The Captain agrees.  "I know you're a 
scientist, but I must say that you don't look like a scientist."

I am not sure if I should take this as a compliment or an insult.  I 
suppose he expected some preppy, stern old lady with her hair tied 
tight in a bow at the top of her head.  Instead, I am a young 
woman, 34-years of age, short in stature, with brunette hair that 
comes half way down my back.

He motions to the two chairs sitting in front of his desk.  They look 
like they are made from finely lacquered wood.  So does his desk, 
although I figure both must only be plastic simulations.  Even a 
person of Captain Rileymen's esteem could not gather the 
resources to get real wood this far into space.

"Now Debbie, do you know why you are here?" He asks me.  I 
notice he properly waits for me to sit first.  He is the perfect 
gentleman, nurtured in the romantic traditions.

"No one told me anything, but I think I know."  I answer.  "I 
suspect it has something to do with the lost satellite."

"Excellent deductive capability," He speaks a thought.  "You are 
correct, but that is only the beginning."

He fumbles with something in his desk and then hands over an 
orange colored file.  "This explains the mission, provided you care 
to accept it."

I take it with interest.  Orange means Secret.  Higher than 
Classified but lower than Top Secret, it sits in the middle of the 
echelon of classified information.  My security clearance allows 
me to read Secret, but I seldom get the opportunity.  On those rare 
occasions when I do, it is like candy to my eyes.  I feel an urge to 
look inside.

"You'll have plenty of time to go through the file later," He speaks 
before I get the chance.  "You can take it with you.  For now, let 
me explain."

I let him, of course, and lay the folder on my lap unopened.

"As you already suspect, we lost a satellite," He dumps his big 
arms on his desk.  "Two days ago we lost contact with Spy-3.  No 
warning signs.  No messages.  It simply stopped transmitting."

He is right.  I already know this.  As a research scientist, it is my 
job to study the images radioed back from the three surveillance 
satellites orbiting the planet.  The pictures from Spy-3 stopped in 
mid-frame two days ago, just like he said.

"What you don't know is that it dropped into the atmosphere," He 
continues.  "The Engineers don't know why, but they theorize one 
of its maneuvering thrusters stuck in the open position.  It lost 
orbital velocity, which caused it to lose altitude, and it fell into the 
atmosphere.  We just located the spot where it crashed.  You have 
the details in your hand."

I never could be patient.  I undo the clasp of the envelope and pull 
out the lap-screen computer when he pauses.  When I touch it, a 
keyboard appears on the display.  I have been around classified 
information enough to know this is where I am supposed to enter 
my personal identification code and password.

"Most of the satellite burned up in the atmosphere," Captain 
Rileymen speaks uninterrupted as I page through the file.  "But it 
looks like the most dangerous segment survived - at least partially.  
The nuclear reactor core landed largely intact but heavily damaged.  
The first set of pictures show it resting at the bottom of a crater, 
but later images show it moved.  We do not know where it was 
moved to, but we assume it was to one of the surrounding Longton 
villages.  Naturally, we are concerned about its plutonium fuel 
causing injury to anyone who might choose to investigate.  We 
also have concern about its advanced technology creating a danger 
to the pre-industrial culture living on the surface.  The Longtons 
are an inherently curious people, and we expect they will 
eventually want to investigate it."

The "Longtons" that he talks about are an alien civilization that 
inhabits the planet.  I know a lot about them because it is my job to 
study them.  It is the reason I live in deep space and the reason I 
analyze satellite imagery.

"I would say there's a near certain chance they will try to open the 
container," I tell Rileymen, assuming he wants my expert opinion 
on the subject.  "They are an inherently curious culture, much like 
Humans of about 300 AD.  However, even more dangerous, they 
are a religiously fragmented community.  There's danger they 
might discover the satellite and treat it as sign of a deity; a God..."

Rileymen puts up his hand to stop me in mid-sentence.  "That's not 
why I called you into my office."

I sit before him confused.

He explains.  "Our mission is to research on a non-interference 
basis.  That is why we use spy satellites.  Some say this is wrong.  
It is an evasion of privacy, even dishonest, but it allows us to look 
down upon the planet without interfering with the natural order of 
things.  The crash, however, presents a problem.  It creates a 
potential for interference, and we need to take action against it."

I look at him confused.  I agree with everything he says, but who 
am I to do anything about it?

"We plan to organize an expedition down to the planet's surface," I 
think Rileymen reads my mind.  "The plan is to land at night in the 
central desert, away from any substantial Longton population.  The 
expedition will then travel first by vehicle and later by foot into the 
Longton village closest to the crash site.  You will pose as visiting 
travelers from a far off land.  The mission is to interface with the 
Longton culture, discover as much as you can about the crash, and 
then take whatever steps are necessary to prevent any damage."

I notice he uses the word "you" - as in "me" or "myself."  Me, 
Debbie Kitlras.  At first I think he makes an inadvertent slip of the 
tongue, but from the way he looks at me I can tell he has not.

"You don't mean?" I look at him in disbelief.  "Not me!  I can't 
possibly go on such an expedition!"

"Why not?" He questions simply.  "I'm told you are the most 
qualified expert in the lab.  You selected the Longtons for your 
master's thesis.  You've worked at the analysis lab for two years.  
They tell me you are better than anyone else at speaking their 
language."

"Well, yes but..." I start to say.  What he says is true, but...

"I am even told," Rileymen interrupts.  "That you criticized the 
past expeditions.  You voiced objections to the director about your 
training of the Military teams.  You said it would be more valuable 
if a civilian research scientist was included in any future 
expedition."

I feel embarrassed.  "That's true, but I didn't mean myself," I 
explain.  "I said it in a moment of desperation."  Two previous 
expeditions traveled down to the planet's surface, but that was 
years ago.  The teams consisted of Military professionals with 
months of preparation.  "I am just a civilian scientist."

"This is your chance to put your money where your mouth is," He 
continues as though he does not hear me.  "We need to remove the 
satellite, and we need to remove it as soon as possible.  The longer 
it sits on the surface, the more danger it could potentially create.  
There is no time to gather a Military team together and do months 
of training.  We need someone down on the planet's surface in a 
week; if not sooner."

A buzzer rings on his desk.  It interrupts his speech.

"I said not to be disturbed!" He practically yells into the phone.  I 
feel sorry for whoever might be on the other end, but then he nods 
and calms back down again.

"I need to go for a few minutes," Captain Rileymen apologizes.  
"I'm very sorry, but something's come up that demands my 
immediate attention.  Why don't you stay here and read through 
the rest of the file.  I think you will find it very interesting."

He rises before I can object.  He leaves me alone in his office.  I 
am left sitting in confusion and disbelief.

The news overloads me.  The information is too much to process at 
one time.  It is too shocking; too much out of the ordinary of my 
every day life.  I am accustomed to obediently go to my job each 
day on the research station Crion, located on the dark side of the 
moon by the same name.  At night I walk a few feet outside the lab 
to return to my quaint cabin to study and do my exercises.  I have 
been on Crion for three months now, orbiting the Longton planet 
and secretly conducting my research.  It is the same monotonous 
existence day after day after day, and now this.

It is not at all what I expected when I received the call to fly up to 
the Starship Cruiser Atlantis and meet with the Captain.  I 
suspected he sought my advice on the lost satellite, but not to go 
down to the surface and pick it up myself.  I need time to think.

I look through the rest of the secret folder and find it is worse than 
Rileymen lets on.  One page shows an overhead picture of the 
crash site, no doubt taken from one of the two remaining satellites.  
I see a streak of burnt forest with a crater at one end.  I think I even 
see a few Longtons looking down inside from the rim.  Obviously, 
the plutonium remains safely intact inside the reactor.  If it leaked 
out, the Longtons would already be dead.  I can't help but think 
they soon will be.  I know from my own studies that they will 
eventually crack open the reactor.

The next page shows the location of the crash site on a planetary 
map.  It is near the central desert, which is good news.  The 
Longtons do not dare venture into the central desert, so an 
expedition can easily make a landing close to the crash site.  They 
will not have far to walk.

Another page is a written assessment of the situation.  It speaks of 
the Longtons as a curious people who will almost certainly want to 
investigate the contents of the crater.  If the reactor's plutonium 
core isn't open already, the assessment predicts it soon will be.  I 
have to agree.  Then it talks about the religious factions and 
mentions the same thing I told the Captain about the Longtons 
possible attempt to worship the satellite as a religious deity.  I 
agree with everything it says.  I could have written it myself, and 
maybe I even did write parts of it.  Some of the sentences look as 
though they might have been pasted directly out of earlier reports.

The Longtons first came to my attention back at the University.  
According to the most popularly accepted theory, they descended 
from the same ancient seed as humans, planted by an unknown and 
very advanced civilization some 1 million years ago.  This means 
they greatly resemble Homo sapiens in appearance.  Their bodies 
enclose the same basic structure:  The same double arms and legs, 
the same two eyes, two ears, and a single nose.  Everything of 
importance looks the same, but only in general terms.  As with any 
two humanoid species separated by a hundred light years distance 
and million years of evolution, subtle differences exist.

The two most noticeable differences exist in the facial area.  The 
first is a flattened Longton nose that makes it look as though they 
have all just been punched squarely in the face.  The second is hair 
just above the nose.  It is a single eyebrow that goes straight across 
the forehead.  Another difference derives from height.  The 
Longtons live on a planet with 80% the gravity of Earth.  This 
makes them grow taller.  The average Longton male is about 20% 
taller than the average human male, although this only occurs with 
the males.  For some reason, Longton females tend to be slightly 
shorter than human females.  No one has yet been able to explain 
why.

More important differences are cultural, which is the reason for my 
research.  My job is to study how a civilization totally foreign to 
Humans can live, communicate, interact, and do the thousand other 
things we take for granted every day.  I often think my job is no 
different than the National Geographic researches who first went to 
study the ancient stone-age tribes of the jungles of Magascascar in 
the 19th century.  My only advantage is technology.  While they 
wore cameras around their necks, I rely on cameras that look down 
from orbiting satellites.

I also listen.  Several years ago - back when I was still in graduate 
school - humans made two high-risk expeditions down to the 
planet's surface.  A group of three young men received plastic 
surgery and several months of specialized training on the Longton 
culture and scientific research methods.  All three were military 
men, specially selected because they were quick to learn and 
strong enough to defend themselves in case they got into trouble.  
They landed on the planet's surface, traveled to a distant Longton 
village, and posed as fellow Longton men traveling from a far-off 
land.  Although unable to speak the Longton language, they made 
face-to-face contact and were able to communicate on a limited 
basis.  The expedition taught us things we never could have 
learned solely from satellite imagery.

Lucky for me, the expedition also planted microphones.  While on 
the surface, they buried miniature microphones under the soil to 
listen to the Longton conversations in the hope of deciphering the 
language.  It is these microphones that got me my job, and most of 
them remain operating to this very day.  I've always had a gift for 
languages, and the language of the Longtons is no different.  
Called Longtonese, I first assisted and then later became its 
foremost expert.  I now translate the language for others.

			* * * * *

"Sorry about the interruption," Captain Rileymen walks back into 
the room.  He walks in quickly, as though he is in a hurry.  He 
appears out of breath.

"As I was saying, we need to send an emergency expedition down 
to the surface," He talks fast from behind his desk.  "Your purpose 
will be to find the satellite's reactive core and dispose of it.  This 
may be done by burial or by returning with the core.  You are 
given leeway to decide for yourself once you reach the surface and 
study the landing site.  We know the core is fundamentally safe 
because we witnessed Longtons in close proximity.  They 
physically moved it with no ill effects.  The reason we chose you 
for this mission is obvious.  We have no time to train someone 
new, and you speak Longtonese fluently."

I accept this, but his conclusion is wrong.  "Not fluently," I correct.  
"And I only translate it.  I have never spoken it to a live Longton 
before."

"At least you speak it better than anyone else," He proposes.

I nod my head.  We both know this to be true.

"In any case, it will be sufficient to conduct the mission.  You will 
pose as Longtons from a distant land.  You are on a quest for 
knowledge.  This should give you sufficient cover to make up for 
any language deficiencies."

I nod again.  It is the same cover used by the previous expeditions.  
I realize if the previous expeditions made it without speaking any 
Longtonese, I should have no problem.

"The choice on whether or not to accept the mission is yours."  
Captain Rileymen offers me with his hands.  "I need not disguise 
the dangers involved.  This is especially true for you.  You, being a 
woman."

I suddenly remember.  The thought rushes into my head like a bolt 
of lightening.  I should have realized it the moment he first 
suggested I go down to the surface, but I guess I suffered from 
information overload.  It is the one thing about the Longtons that 
disgusts me.

"As you know," The Captain tells me what I already know.  "The 
Longton culture is still very primitive when it comes to relation 
between the sexes.  As I am sure you are aware from your studies, 
men are in charge and the women are essentially the equivalent of 
servants."

I know this very well.  In fact, I know it exceedingly well, and it is 
the one thing I vehemently dislike about the Longtons.  Captain 
Rileymen's use of the word "servant" is actually too kind.  "Slave" 
would be a lot more accurate.  Although not physically abused - at 
least not as far as we can determine - Longton women are treated 
more like property than real people.  It is the ultimate male 
chauvinistic society.

I try to push this aside.  By inherent definition - as I have to 
continuously remind myself - alien cultures are supposed to be 
different.  Most of the time it comes from the way they look or the 
way they act.  For the Longtons, it happens to concern the relation 
between the sexes.  A colleague once told me that a visitor might 
be equally disgusted with Humans of the 17th or 18th centuries if 
they witnessed the subjugation of African Negroes.  I must 
continually remind myself of this as I study the Longtons, and now 
I remind myself again.

"I understand sir," I try to act like his explanation is no surprise.  "I 
will have to play the part of a female servant."

The Captain nods.  This seems to please him.

"Then you are also aware," He goes on.  "You will need to blend 
in with the alien culture.  This means, of course, you will have to 
dress like them."

I momentarily forgot about this as well, but now it comes rushing 
back to me.

"You look as though this greatly disturbs you," The Captain 
notices before I can recover.

"No, not really," I almost choke on my own words.  "I mean it 
does, a little, I guess, but I know all about it.  After all, I see them 
every day on the satellite images," I let out a nervous laugh.  "I 
guess I've just become so accustomed to the way the Longtons 
dress that I forgot about it for a moment."

"I hope it does not disturb you," He emphasizes.  "Because it 
can't!  If you are going to blend in with their culture, you need to 
dress like them."

"Of course," I agree with fake confidence, remembering the 
clothing of the Longton women - or more specifically, the lack 
thereof.  I realize this is even truer in the southern desert region 
where the satellite crashed.

The planet of Longton is hot.  It experiences temperatures a lot 
warmer than Earth.  It is so warm that plants and animals only exist 
at the poles.  The entire equatorial region is one big, massive, 
desert; a thousand times bigger than the Sierra.  As the sea covers 
two-thirds the surface of Earth, so a desert covers three-quarters of 
the planet Longton.  The Longtons live north of this desert, north 
of 50 degrees latitude, in what would be roughly equivalent to 
Northern Canada or Siberia on Earth.  But even here, the heat 
remains.  The Longton climate at the Arctic Circle is roughly 
equivalent to the equator on Earth.

People who live in a warm climate naturally wear little clothing.  It 
is true on Earth, and it is true on Longton.  And it is especially true 
of the women, given their subservient cultural position.  The 
women, in fact, walk around in the bare minimal of clothing.  This 
is one of the reasons why I got the job to study them to begin with.  
The sparsely clad women keep distracting the men from doing 
their jobs.

"I do not mean to embarrass you," The Captain interrupts my 
agonizing thoughts.  "There is no way for me to say this delicately, 
but this expedition may be especially difficult for you, given 
your..." He brings his hands to his own chest.  "Let's say, your 
physical makeup."

I know what Rileymen means.  He is referring to my size.  That is, 
he hints at my big boobs.  I am a short girl with ample breasts.  
Longton attire will leave little to the imagination.

"I understand Sir," I try to retain my composure against the 
unavoidable embarrassment.

"In fact, the very reason you are best suited for this mission is 
because of your physical makeup.  As I'm sure you already know 
from your studies, men with the highest status are often served by 
the women with the largest..."

He does not need to continue.  It is another oddity of the male 
dominated Longton society.   Female breasts are used as a way to 
display status.  The leader of a village nearly always has the mate 
with the largest boobs.  The same is true for an unusually rich or 
successful man.  My own double-D cups means my male 
companion would be a very important man, but that assumes I will 
have a male companion.

"Can I assume I will be with someone?"

"Of course," The Captain fills in the blanks.  "A woman traveling 
alone on the Longton planet would instantly arise suspicion.  It 
would be culturally incorrect, and it might also be dangerous.  You 
will be the female traveling companion of Lt. Stockton."

"Brian?" I questioned.  "Do you mean Lt. Brian Stockton?"

The Captain nods.

"But sir, he only just arrived a few weeks ago.  He doesn't have 
any experience."

"But he is the most suitable," Rileymen does not appear to hear my 
objection.  "He is an ex-Marine, specifically assigned to your 
analysis lab to learn as much about the Longtons as possible.  It 
was our intent to eventually use him on another mission down to 
the planet's surface once we got approval from the politicians back 
on Earth.  He will just be going down a lot earlier than planned."

"But sir," I try to object.  "A lot of others know a lot more about 
the Longton culture than Brian... I mean Lt. Stockton."

"I see you are already on a first name basis," Rileymen notes.  
"That is good.  It will make the training go easier."

"Training?"

"You need to give Lt. Stockton - or Brian - a crash course on the 
Longton culture.  Forget about the structured course.  He needs to 
learn as fast as possible.  The doctors tell me it takes 5 days for the 
swelling from the plastic surgery to go down.  You will have that 
long to work with him."

"But Brian?" I continue to object.  "Beg your pardon sir, but 
there's others in the lab who are a lot more deserving."

"But the others are all female," He points out.  "Out of a staff of 32 
personnel, I believe there are 30 who are female.  And we can't 
very well send two females down there together."

His numbers are correct.  That is one disadvantage of a lab full of 
women.

"The mission is yours if you want it," He tells me.  "As I already 
hinted, we don't have much time.  We need an answer right away.  
A doctor is already standing by in the infirmary.  He tells me the 
operation will take about two hours, and you are on his schedule 
for tomorrow morning."

I feel a momentary desire to jump at the chance.  I picture myself 
leaping up and telling him that I am honored to accept the mission.  
It is the opportunity of a lifetime, a chance to put my many years 
of study to the test.  I often dreamed about going down to the 
surface and meeting a real live Longton.  I feel stupid to resist.

Yet when the opportunity is thrust upon me, I hesitate.  I feel only 
anxiety.  I worry my knowledge is inadequate and my assumptions 
are all wrong.  I can't help but imagine in my mind what it will feel 
like to walk around in the sparsely clad Longton clothing.  I grow 
with trepidation.

"The mission is yours if you want it," Captain Rileymen offers me 
again.  "Your acceptance will be a tremendous service to your 
country.  It will even help to serve the Longton people, and you 
will probably save the lives of whatever Longtons eventually 
succeed in opening the reactor."

His words fall heavy on my mind.

"However, I will not disguise the fact some danger is involved," 
He argues against himself.  "The mission is far from safe, and I am 
sure it will be very difficult.  Many things could go wrong, 
including a radiation leak." 

I haven't considered this, and it frightens me.  Even a small 
radiation leak could put me at a higher risk of cancer for the rest of 
my life.

"Do not accept right now," He cautions wisely.  "I want you to 
check into the infirmary tonight so the doctors can conduct some 
tests.  If all goes according to plan, you have until morning to 
make up your mind.  You need to sleep on it and think it over very 
carefully.  I obviously prefer you to accept, but you need to be 
certain for yourself.  There will be no turning back."

I look up to see him standing.  We are done.  Rileymen is a busy 
man and has many other jobs to do.

"Thank you for the offer," I shake his hand.  "It is a lot to 
consider."

I bid him goodbye and ask his secretary directions to the infirmary.

			* * * * * 

I laugh at Captain Rileymen's instructions to sleep on it.  If he 
expects me to sleep, he is greatly mistaken.  I lay wide-awake in 
bed.  I lay on a hospital bed in the infirmary, dreading the morning 
and feeling confused and very hungry.

The doctors refused me anything to eat after they completed the 
physical.  "It might have a negative effect on the operation," they 
told me; something to do with the drugs they will have to give me 
to perform the plastic surgery...provided I am still willing to go 
through with the surgery.

I still am not sure.  There is a lot to consider.

There is the fear of failure.  'What if I can't speak the language 
well enough?' I ask myself.  I never conversed with a Longton 
before.  'What if I do something stupid or make a mistake?'  And 
there is the further danger of walking into a village contaminated 
with plutonium.  Radiation cannot be ignored.  I might have to 
walk around the rest of my life in fear of an increased risk of 
cancer.

But on the opposite side, it is the opportunity of a lifetime.  It will 
be a chance to fulfill my curiosity and pose all my questions.  It 
will be my only opportunity to test my knowledge of the 
Longtonese language and interface with the subjects of my study.  
I know I will never get a chance to go down to the surface again.  
Any future expeditions - assuming the politicians back on Earth 
even allow any future expeditions - will almost certainly be by all-
male teams.  They will never let a woman go except for the most 
dreadful circumstance.

Yet the very fact I am a woman scares me.  I will have to live in a 
society where the men are masters.  I will be merely a slave, forced 
into subjugation of my male owner, forced to wear the clothing of 
the Longton women.

And then there is the clothing to consider.  Longton clothing scares 
me, especially given my figure.  I am not accustomed to wearing 
provocative clothing, yet on the surface of the planet I will be 
forced to wear little.  The most clothing I will ever be able to wear 
is the equivalent of a small bikini.

Another problem is Brian.  I couldn't voice my objection in front 
of Captain Rileymen because he would never understand, but I 
don't like Brian.  The problem is that he's been trying to hit on me 
since the first day he got to Crion, probably because of my big 
boobs.  I despise men who treat my boobs as a prize and my body 
like a piece of meat.  I haven't known Brian for very long, yet I 
already get the impression he is a stereotypical young Marine who 
thinks he is God's gift to women.  I have difficult time with him in 
the lab.  On the surface, I know it will be much more challenging.

Still, Brian does have one redeeming feature.  He has a tall, 
muscular build and handsome appearance; traits specifically 
selected so he would someday more easily fit in with the Longton 
men.  This will make him look excellent, I know, when clothed in 
the attire worn by the Longton men, for their clothing is just as 
meager as the females.  I like looking at men in loincloths.

To be continued...

Comments welcome (JackBro_99@Yahoo.com)

3



<1st attachment end>


<2nd attachment, "Mission to a New World, Chapter 2.txt" begin>

Mission to a New World (MF, ScFi, size, bond)

		By JackBro (JackBro_99@Yahoo.com)

			Chapter 2: The Surface

				D-Day

Summary: An X-rated science fiction story.  Debbie and Brian are 
two explorers from Earth sent to an alien planet to recover a 
crashed surveillance satellite.  On the surface live the Longtons, a 
humanoid, pre-industrial revolution culture where the women are 
subservient to the males.  Debbie soon discovers why the women 
willingly allow themselves to be subservient, and in the end she 
wants to stay (M/F, F/M, exh, size, bond).

				* * * * * 

Warning: The following story is fiction, and the acts depicted in 
the story should remain fiction.  It is intended for the entertainment 
of mature adults only.  Be advised explicit sex is contained within 
and should not be read by minors.

				* * * * *

"Are you ready to go?" Brian asks.

"Ready as I'll ever be, I guess," I answer hesitantly, already having 
second thoughts about accepting the mission.

We stand on the planet's surface, almost 600 miles from the 
nearest Longton village, at the top of a sand dune with only the 
glow of the two moons and a thousand stars to light our way.  We 
already receive our first taste of the Longton heat, for the 
temperature still hovers at around 40oC.  I already feel perspiration 
on my brow and dread the thought of the sun beating down on us.

The sand shifts below my sandals and scratches between my toes.  
All I see around me is sand; dune after dune of shifting sand.  The 
nearest tree, I know, is about a hundred miles away.  It is like the 
Sahara Desert on Earth, but even the Sahara is nothing compared 
to this.  We stand on the edge of the vast equatorial desert that is a 
thousand times bigger than the Sahara.

Next to us sits our mode of transportation.  It looks something like 
a jeep or maybe a go-cart designed for desert travel.  It is an open-
air vehicle with no roof and only the bare minimum of a frame to 
hold it together.  We tied out supplies securely down in the rear: 
food, clothing, radio, a little tent, and certainly plenty of water.  
The two seats positioned in front look too small to carry a grown 
human.  The contraption, in summary, looks like a toy a young 
teenager might use to play around in a dirt field.

Behind us, down between the gullies of two large sand dunes, sits 
our spaceship.  There sits the shuttle that bought us down to the 
surface.  We purposely landed it in a low place to keep it safe and 
out of sight from the rare desert traveler.  I do not plan to see it 
again for at least a week.

"We better get going," Brian appears anxious, standing next to the 
jeep.  "Best if we go as many miles as we can before sunrise."

I agree, of course.  We are allowed to travel in the jeep only at 
night.

Then he adds: "You realize, of course, from this point on we're not 
supposed to wear any Earth-based clothing."

I notice him look at me, and I distinctly notice him look mostly at 
my chest.  Now I know why he is anxious.  It isn't to travel; he is 
anxious to see what will pop out behind my loose fitting blouse.  
All men like a big set of tits.

I do not feel nearly as anxious as he does.  "Don't worry," I 
comfort him.  "I'll take it off when we leave the vehicle."

Brian shakes his head.  "You know the rules.  Captain Rileymen's 
instructions were clear.  From this point on."

He already wears his Longton clothing.  It reminds me of those 
little Indian outfits worn in old Western movies.  A flap comes 
down in front and another in the rear.  His thighs remain nearly 
bare with a thin string that goes around his waist.  I have to admit 
he looks sexy in it.

I know the rules.  I'm supposed to change into my Longton 
clothing too, but can't bring myself to do it.  "Can't we fudge a 
little?" I try to back out.  "I mean, what's the harm?"

"Listen," He speaks in a rare moment of sympathy.  "I know it'll 
will be embarrassing, but it doesn't make any difference.  Now or 
later, the result will be the same.  You might as well get it over 
with.  We can't have you walking around all bashful and 
embarrassed when we meet the first Longtons."

This is true.  I even thought it a good idea when he first proposed 
we get accustomed to the Longton clothing as soon as possible, but 
now I feel some serious objections.

"All right!" I take a deep breath and accept the inevitable. 

I turn away to unbutton my blouse.  Underneath, I wear the most 
conservative of the three outfits commonly worn by the Longton 
women.  The "outfit" is what I nickname the string bikini back at 
the lab.  True to its name, it is constructed mostly out of string.  
One goes around my neck and the other ties behind my back.  The 
only fabric covering my extra large pair of boobs is two white, 
triangular-shaped cups.  Looking down upon myself, I see they do 
a bare-minimum job of covering.  In keeping with the Longton 
style, it looks as though I wear a bikini sized for a B cup girl on a 
set of double-D cupped boobs.

I toss the blouse aside and lower my shorts.  A sigh comes from 
the jeep to remind me of my ass.  The rear of the bikini panty is 
little more than a thong that runs up my behind.  The front is a 
small triangle of white fabric that thankfully covers everything of 
importance, but just barely.

I have never worn such a small bikini before.  In fact, I have never 
worn a bikini at all.  My large breasts and wholesome Northern 
Minnesota upbringing bestowed me with conservative values.  I 
was always taught that naughty girls wore bikinis and good girls 
wore one-piece bathing suits.

Reluctantly, I take a deep breath and turn around.

"Wow!" Brian amplifies my embarrassment.

"Please!" I instinctively cry out, and than quickly try to cover my 
chest with my hands.  "Can't you be a little more discrete about 
it?"

"Sorry, but it was just a natural reaction!"  He tries to apologize.

It is dark and I know he can't see me very well, but his reaction 
and the look in his eyes tells me everything I need to know.  This 
will be a very long trip.

"It's just that you look so much different," I think he tries to 
apologize.  "I mean you usually dress so professionally, but 
now..." 

His words trail off, but I know what he means.

"Let's just get going," I try to push things along.

The vehicle feels as small as it looks.  I am forced to press up tight 
against him when I sit down in the little seat.  The bare skin of my 
thigh squeezes up against the bare skin of his.

"You ready?" He asks.

I notice the lights on the simple dashboard.  They do not shine 
bright, but in combination with the headlights they give him 
additional light to see me by.

"Let's go," I accept.

"You might want to hold on for safety," He tells me, his eyes 
referring down to my hands.  Both of them still cover my chest.  "It 
might get bumpy.  I don't want you to fall out and get injured."

"I'm just fine," I refuse.  "Let's get going."

The little jeep takes off.  It goes surprisingly fast considering its 
small size.  I suppose the weaker gravity helps move it along.  We 
go up one drift of sand and then down the next.  Ahead lay more 
dunes, and then even more.  We drive on and on with the rear 
wheels kicking up sand and the jeep bumping from the occasional 
rock.

"Be careful," I warn him as we are forced to attack a particularly 
steep dune at an angle.

"I told you to hang on," He argues and does not appear to slow.  
"At least use one of your hands to hold on."

I know he is right.  I hate it when he is right all the time.  The last 
week's worth of training taught me that he is often right.  I found 
Brian to be smart and a quick learner, well chosen for the mission.  
I only had to tell him once, and he remembered everything I said.  I 
found him especially good at learning the Longton language.  I still 
know it far better than he does, I think he learned more in the last 5 
days than I learned in my first 5 months.

Knowing I might as well get it over with, I lower both arms and 
hold on.  My right takes hold of the railing and the left squeezes 
between us and takes hold of the seat.  Immediately, I feel Brian's 
eyes upon me.  I know he has been looking at me all week long.  
Back in the lab his eyes seemed to roam down to my blouse at 
every chance they got.  It felt embarrassing before, but now...

Now, I don't know what to feel.  I continue to feel embarrassed, 
but I also notice a tingle of excitement in the air.  I have this erotic 
sensation that I sit next to him topless, which isn't too far from the 
truth.  I feel as though I am a voyeur strutting my stuff.

I suppose it is inevitable that he look.  I am so close, right next to 
him, and I am so big and so exposed.  My left boob almost touches 
his right arm.  I feel a brief temptation to chastise him, but I know 
it will be to no avail.  I take a deep breath, knowing I must bear it.

I try to let my mind wonder, but it is difficult in this bleak 
landscape.  Up one dune and down the next, the headlights of our 
little jeep illuminate nothing but sand before us.  It seems to lack 
power, but keeps up its ever-constant push.  The motor moans as 
we travel up a dune, and then whines as we coast back down the 
opposite side.  At the same time we slow going up the hills, and 
then accelerate as we travel back down again.  Moan and whine.  
Slow and accelerate.  The same motion over and over again.  It is 
no wonder the Longtons live only in the Northern Hemisphere.  
They have yet to discover the equal landmass in the south.  Even a 
technologically advanced civilization would have trouble crossing 
this desert.  It would be impossible for a Longton man traveling on 
foot or even with a beast of burden.

We travel for a few miles more before I notice it.  It happens when 
I look over to the instruments to check our heading.  I am afraid 
Brian might be paying more attention to my bust than the proper 
heading, but the dial continues to read straight North.  This makes 
me momentarily think he stopped glancing over to my sparsely 
clad chest, but then I notice it.  The dim lights of the dashboard 
illuminates it.  I do not know if he sees it too, but I notice a clear 
and very distinct bulge pushing up his loincloth.

It shocks me at first.  I think I might be seeing things, but then I 
casually allow my eyes to lower, and I see it again.  The front flap 
of his Indian-like loincloth lifts up and pushes away from his body.  
It is clearly noticeable.  I think I can even see the outline of a pole 
beneath it.

I take a hard swallow.  It shocks me at first.  I do not know what to 
say or what to do, but then figure it is best not to say or do 
anything.  Brian does not appear to notice it himself, although I 
know he must feel it.  He is clearly very aroused and very hard.  
He is at a full erection.  Even better, he does nothing to cover 
himself.  His hands remain on the steering wheel.  He continues to 
drive the jeep, as he must.  I am left free to admire him for as long 
as I want.

And I do admire it!  As we continue driving, my head remains 
pointed straight ahead but my eyes look right at it.  It feels good to 
have the tables turned.  It feels exhilarating, even a little thrilling, 
knowing what my big boobs and my tiny bikini are doing to him.  
It even makes me feel a little aroused - I have to admit.  I think of 
the male meat only a short distance away.

I like cocks, but not just any ordinary cock.  The pictures of naked 
men in the centerfolds of Playgirl never thrilled me very much.  I 
will never forget, however, the first time I saw a picture of an 
erection.  It was in my freshman year of High School.  I had just 
transferred from a pale parochial grade school when one of my 
newly made girlfriends showed it to me on a library computer.  I 
thought it the most amazing thing I had ever seen.  It looked so 
big!  And it looked so long!  The thing looked like a monster, like 
it was about to attack me.  From then on, I always got aroused 
when I saw an erect cock.

Then I think about why he is aroused.  Obviously, he must be 
having nasty thoughts about me.  He fantasizes about me.  As he 
drives, his eyes must roam over to my boobs.  This makes me 
wonder what is going through his mind.  'Is he squeezing my boobs 
in his mind?'  I ask to myself.  'Is he reaching over and lowering 
my top?  Is he playing with my tits or perhaps imagining himself 
teasing my nipples?'  To my surprise, this both scares and delights 
me.  In a strange sort of way, I find myself wishing I was topless 
and wanting him to massage me.  Despite Brian's ego and his 
subservient attitude towards women, I have to admit he is a very 
handsome man.

Even better, Brian looks to be of impressive size.  I can tell by the 
bulge he makes.  It looks to be substantial, although it is difficult to 
tell in the weak lights of the dashboard.  I more properly need to 
see him in the headlights.  Or even better, I need to take a look at 
him underneath.  It would not be difficult to do.  My hand is 
already so close, grasping hold of the seat between us.  All I need 
to do is reach over and lift the little flap.

I chastise myself.  I think about what I am doing and can't believe 
my own thoughts.  I scolded him earlier for looking at my chest, 
and now I repeat the same sin with his cock.  I am no better than he 
is, observing the opposite sex not as an equal but as a sex object.

I try to move on to something else and erase the thought out of my 
mind, but the task proves more difficult than I anticipate.  Brian 
further complicates matters by keeping his bulge.  I don't know 
when it started, but I know it has been several minutes since I first 
noticed it.  He has remained hard and erect now for the past ten 
minutes, which makes me wonder how far along his fantasy has 
progressed.  'Am I naked yet?'  I question to myself.  'Is he now 
fantasizing what it will feel like to reach over and lower my panty?  
Is he now imagining himself playing with my sex too?'

The thought makes me squirm in my seat.  Brian looks over, but I 
simply ignore him.  No words have been exchanged between us 
since we left, but I don't mind.  I don't feel like talking.

As I wonder about his fantasy, I begin to experience my own.  It is 
my standard fantasy, the one I get whenever I see a particularly 
handsome gentleman sitting on the opposite side of the dinner table 
or down at the end of the bar.  It starts with the guy standing at the 
foot of my bed where I order him to strip.  In my fantasy, naturally, 
he obeys.  He removes one article of clothing and then another, 
until he stands before me in only a tiny bikini panty or perhaps one 
of those fishnet briefs.  In either case, I order him to remove this 
last piece of clothing too, and soon he stands nude - absolutely 
nude.  I picture Brian standing at the foot of my bed, totally naked 
without a single stitch of clothing anywhere on his entire body.

The covers of the bed are drawn, but now I pull them back to 
display a sexy little nightie that does a superb job at showing off 
my sizable assets.  This naturally makes the man aroused, and I 
now picture Brian developing an erection.  I watch from the bed as 
it grows from a tiny dick into the monster I know must be hidden 
underneath his loincloth.  I picture Brian with a big, long, perhaps 
an 8-inch organ standing upright and at attention.  I see him 
standing at the foot of my bed, motionless and obedient, allowing 
me to look as much as I want, waiting for my next command.

Then I fantasize myself ordering him to turn around with a single 
hand.  I say nothing.  I just use my fingers to have him turn so I 
can first have a look at his cock from the side and then take a good 
look at his ass in the rear.  I admire his naked body all over, and 
then I motion him to come closer.  He does so, and in my fantasy 
the big man is soon standing at the side of my bed with his big 
cock within my reach.

The fantasy continues when I take advantage of the opportunity 
and begin to play with his cock like it is my toy.  I imagine what it 
will feel like to touch Brian's hard organ and feel up his entire 
length...

			* * * * * 

"You getting tired?"

A question interrupts my fantasy.  I realize I am looking down, 
starring straight down at his waist.  I realize I have my head 
bowed, which Brian must have assumed to mean I was tired.

"No, I'm okay," I first answer and then decide to play along.  
"Well, not too tired.  Just taking a rest for a moment."

"We're almost at our first stop," He tells me.  "The map shows it 
should be just up ahead."

I look to see a dark outline against the stars above.  I know it is the 
outline of trees from an oasis.  It is not hard to find an oasis at this 
high northerly latitude.  Springs bubble up out of the ground every 
few dozen miles.  Around them blossom a forest of trees and 
bushes.

The headlights of the jeep illuminate green vegetation as we travel 
over the summit of the next sand dune.

"You better slow down," I warn, seeing we are going downhill at 
full speed.  "I think this is it."

Just as I say it, the ride suddenly turns rough.  We drive into a pile 
of rocks.  The wheels of the jeep are unable to stay on the ground.  
It is like hitting a stretch of potholed asphalt.

"Slow down!"  I say again, this time more forcefully as I feel my 
body lift completely out of the seat and then come crashing back 
down.

"I'm trying!"  Brian counters.  "Damn brakes!"

We slow, but not before hitting several more rocks and then the 
protruding roots of a tree.  Another large jolt hits the jeep.  My 
body again leaves the seat.  It is large enough to fear my boobs 
might have left their protective covering.  I look down to check, 
and then look over to see Brian check too.  I see he has taken 
advantage of the situation and looks at my bouncing chest.

"The road!"  I remind him.  "Keep your eyes on the road."

I can't believe he is looking at my bouncing boobs instead of the 
road in front of us.  I realize what he has just witnessed and start to 
feel embarrassed.

"Sorry, but that was the first time I had to use the breaks," He tells 
me as the jeep eventually comes to a near stop and then weaves 
between the trees.  We drive closer to the source of the oasis: A 
small pond of water formed by a seeping spring from below.  
Before the jeep has a chance to come to a stop, I jump out and head 
for the water.

It feels good on my face when I kneel down and splash myself.  
The water is surprisingly cold.  It is nearly freezing cold, in direct 
contrast to the hot temperature of everything else on this sizzling 
planet.  I cup another handful of water and splash it onto my face.

"How is it?"  Brian asks from somewhere close behind me.

"Great!"  I keep splashing myself.  "Cold!  Feels like it must be 
coming up from a deep spring."

"You know you can jump in if you want," I hear him step past me.  
"There's nothing in these waters that can hurt you."

It sounds great, but the idea of walking into a strange body of 
water in the dead of night scares me.  Luckily, Brian comes to my 
rescue.  Instead of stopping at the shoreline, he walks right in.  He 
walks into the water as though it is no more than a friendly fishing 
pond back on Earth.

I already wear the equivalent of a swimsuit, so it is an easy matter 
to take a swim.  I follow, but the water is too cold; surprisingly 
cold.  It is cold enough to prevent me from jumping in all at once.  
I find myself having to step in slow and leisurely allow my body to 
get accustomed to the drastic change in temperature.  Brian already 
stands in the middle, deepest part of the little pond.  I can't help 
but feel disappointed at what I know the cold water will do to his 
swollen member.

The water is pure, and my body feels dirty all over.  It feels like a 
thin layer of grime from the open-air vehicle covers me from head 
to foot.

The pond is not very deep.  Even in the center, the water only 
comes up to my waist.  I am forced to go down to my knees in 
order to cover myself up to the neck.  I must then bow my head 
down lower to wash my sand-encrusted hair.  The pond is also 
small, only about the size of a large swimming pool, but this is 
normal for such southerly latitudes.  Later, as we travel further 
north, the ponds will grow into lakes.  Oasis will grow into forests.

"We better get going again," Brian suggests after what seems like 
only a minute, although I know we have been in the water for 
much longer.  "We have a schedule to keep you know."

I know well enough, but I do not want to leave.  The water feels 
refreshing.  It is like a relaxing evening bath after a long day at 
work, but I also know we have a long way to go yet.  It is only 
about midnight.  We are supposed to drive another 5 hours before 
stopping for daylight.

I follow Brian and step out of the water into the sizzling night air.  
We step into the lights of the jeep where I can see him clearly.  His 
bare thighs look terrific.  His whole body makes me hot.

As I look at him, a mischievous idea comes to mind.  It is a 
naughty, sneaky, mischievous little idea; but I can't help but 
consider it when I think about his deflated member.  I get the nasty 
idea of changing into the next iteration of Longton clothing.  I 
think about the next, more provocative article of Longton clothing.  
The reason I want to change into it is equally naughty.

"I think I should," I say before I realize I have said it.  "I suppose I 
might as well get accustomed to my new wardrobe, exactly as you 
said before."

This seems to take Brian by surprise.  He steps back, almost as if in 
shock.  It is as though he perhaps guesses at my real intent, but I 
have no way of knowing for sure.

"I'll just step over here behind a few trees to change," I tell him as 
I untie my pack from the back of the jeep.

I see him take a deep breath and then swallow before answering: 
"Whatever you're comfortable with."

The second piece of Longton clothing contains more fabric, but it 
is more erotic and exposes more than the bikini.  I call it the 
vertical swimsuit because it is composed mostly of two vertical 
strips of cloth that rise from the panty and go across my chest.  A 
snap at the back of my neck connects them.  Technically, it is a 
one-piece suite, but in reality it more closely resembles an erotic 
nightgown.

The two vertical strips of cloth both give the suit its name and 
make it so erotic.  Because nothing goes around my chest in the 
horizontal direction, nothing is left to support my boobs.  My tits 
are left free and natural.  They swell out and make their slight 
plunge down from my chest just as though I wear no top at all, and 
the strips of cloth are narrow enough to allow someone to examine 
me in great detail.

I know this new article of Longton clothing will make me look 
especially sexy when someone looks at me from the side, as I 
know Brian will have the opportunity to do in the jeep.  It fills me 
with ecstasy, although it also fills me with trepidation.  I look 
down upon myself to see my entire line of cleavage exposed down 
the center of my chest.  If I had a mirror, I would even be able to 
see my own undercleavage.  I grow with trepidation at the sight 
Brian will encounter.  My only solace is Brian's assured reaction.

"Ready to go," I step out from behind the trees.  Brian already sits 
in the jeep.  He looks only briefly as I join him.  I notice the feel of 
metal against my buns and back when I sit down, reminding me 
that my entire back lays exposed and a thong again rides up my 
rear. 

"Figured I might as well get it over with," I confess to Brian as we 
again drive off in the jeep.

It does not take long.  Although I do not see him look, I can tell 
that he does so by his reaction.  This time I do not hold up my 
hands to cover myself.  I allow him to look as much as he wants, 
and soon I notice his reaction.  A bulge again rises from his shorts.

It looks as big and substantial as before.  I can't help but think 
what I would like to do with it.  I imagine myself reaching over 
and casually lifting the little flap of fabric to give myself a better 
look.  I am tempted to look, but of course I do not.  I am not that 
kind of girl.  I must remain content with my imagination.

I attempt to remove his cock from my mind, but Brian again makes 
it difficult.  His bulge remains.  I try not to look, but every few 
minutes the temptation overcomes me.  I move my eyes without 
moving my head.  I take a glance over and see it continue.  It 
continues for a long time, and it is difficult not to notice.

Up one sand dune and down the next.  We continue on.  The 
journey becomes monotonous, but my mind remains occupied.  I 
can't get him out of my head.

The fantasy returns.  I again imagine him standing at the foot of 
my bed while I order him to first disrobe and then to harden.  In 
my mind, he stands within arm's length, and I am taking advantage 
of his closeness.  My arm is outstretched and my hand his 
encompassed around him.  I imagine myself holding his toy cock 
in my hand.

I start with small, short, deliberate strokes on the base of his 
member.  I make him aroused, and then I use my hand to increase 
his arousal.  Soon, I see the resulting evidence of my actions as 
drops of pre-cumm slowly ooze out of the tip of his cock.  In 
response,  I increase the speed of my pistoning motion yet further 
to witness his reaction even more.  One of the best things I like 
about a man is the feel of his thick cock in my hand.  By the look 
of the bulge under Brian's shorts, I am sure his will feel very fine.

Much later, after I judge him sufficiently lubricated and most 
likely dripping, I imagine myself stroking up and down on his 
entire length.  I imagine holding my hand out to his member.  I 
fantasize pumping it up and down.  I think about pistoning on the 
entire length of organ.

The fantasy turns more vivid as I imagine myself reaching for it 
now, reaching out my hand to the driver's seat.  I imagine what it 
would be like to reach out right now and give him a slow, 
deliberate, and ever-constant stroking action.

I shake my head in an attempt to erase the fantasy out of my mind.  
This is not like me.  'Here I am sitting next to a man with a firm 
cock between his legs, and all I can think about is what a pleasure 
it would be to have sex with him.'  But not just any ordinary sexy, 
but kinky sex.  'If Brian only knew the thoughts in my mind!'  The 
thought makes me blush with embarrassment.

But then I realize he must be having equally vivid fantasies.  'He 
must be!'  There is no way he can remain hard without it.  The 
realization makes me wonder what he is thinking.  'Is he 
fantasizing about my boobs?'  I ask myself.  'Or maybe he is 
picturing me topless and trying to figure out what my hard nipples 
must look like.'  A hot wave of ecstasy travels through my body as 
I consider it.  I find myself wanting to show him.  I know he wants 
to see.  He's had his eyes locked on my chest all week.  I caught 
him several times during our lessons with his eyes firmly locked 
on my chest.  I even caught him trying to look down my top when I 
bent over on the one day.  His actions disgusted me then, but for 
some strange reason I find them exciting me now.

 I shake my head again to get the thoughts out of my mind.  It is 
not like me to have such fantasies about a man while I sit so close 
to him.  My dreams usually come at night or in the early morning 
hours.  They usually happen only after men are far away and I have 
time to think about it.  But this is different.  There is little else to 
think about.

"There's another oasis not far ahead," His voice interrupts my 
thoughts.  "If you want, we can stop for dinner.  It's getting to be 
about that time."

The clock on the dashboard reads 2:00 AM, Longton time.  In 
reality, it is closer to 7:00 PM Earth time.  We purposely landed 
with our bodies still on daylight hours to avoid falling asleep while 
driving through the Longton night.  I failed to notice my hunger 
before, but the mention of dinner quickly reminds me that it is past 
my normal dinner hour.

"That sounds like a good idea," I agree.  "I do feel awfully 
hungry."

A naughty idea fills my head.  Brian looks at me first with a look 
of shock on his face, and then he smiles.  I am not sure, but I think 
he has read my mind.  I think he understands the hidden meaning 
behind my words.  I really do feel awfully hungry, like I said, but 
not just for food.  I also feel hunger for his cock.

"I need a rest stop anyway," He quickly recovers.  "I know it's still 
a couple hours before I should be feeling tired enough to go to bed, 
but all this driving can be really tiring on the body."

I can't help but think about how tiring it must be for all the blood 
to constantly flow down to his hard erection too.

"I can take over, if you want," I offer.  "I mean after dinner, if you 
don't mind.  I would like to take a turn behind the wheel of this 
thing too.  It looks like fun."

"Are you sure you can?" He questions.  "It's not as easy as it 
looks."

"Don't you think a woman can handle it?" I guess his thoughts.  "I 
bet I've had a lot more experience driving this sort of vehicle than 
you.  I used to drive around in little three-wheelers all the time as a 
kid.  And besides, with the way you drove into the last oasis, it 
wouldn't take much to better you."

He shrugs his shoulders and refuses to respond.  I know Brian does 
not like to be bettered by a woman, which only encourages me to 
tease him further.  I notice the bulge in his shorts has diminished 
too.  I must remember not to tease him too often.

			* * * * *

We stop to eat dinner a few minutes later at the next oasis.  The 
jeep is parked right up next to the life-giving water.  The 
headlights remain on, and Brian hangs a lantern by the rollover 
bar.  This gives him lots of light to see me by, but I really don't 
care anymore - especially after what I just experienced.

I have just walked back out of the water.  Before we ate, both of us 
decided it better if we first washed ourselves off and cooled 
ourselves down.  I walked into the water almost as soon as he 
brought the jeep to a stop.

Pleasant to my delight, I discovered the pond at this oasis was both 
larger and deeper than the first.  The water came up to my neck in 
the middle of the lake, which gave me the idea of unsnapping the 
rear hook and lowering my top.  After all, there was no way he 
could see anything under the water.  I did it to feel more 
comfortable and to better wash myself.  I never expected what else 
it did.

"Not as cold as the first spring," I attempted to make idle 
conversation as Brian walked in after me.  Being taller, the rose 
only came up to the middle of his chest, giving me an excellent 
view of his chest and bulging biceps.  I couldn't help but think 
about what he would have seen had I been just as tall.

"Water feel good," Brian attempted to switch languages and speak 
to me in a type of broken Longtonese.

"Me think so too," I agreed in more proper Longtonese, although I 
must admit that even I do not speak it very well.  "Try lower all 
under," I suggested.

He was close enough for me to see a look of intense concentration 
on his face.  For a moment I thought he was looking at my boobs, 
but then I realized he was only trying to translate my phrase.

"I said you should try to lower yourself all the way under the 
water," I repeated the same in English.  "Dunk your head under.  It 
feels good."

He did so, and then I did the same, but careful not to bounce up too 
high.

We continued our little conversation, talking about little bits and 
pieces of information without really talking about anything at all.  
The main purpose of our talk was to practice the Longtonese 
language, not to communicate any worthwhile information.  I 
remain amazed at how well Brian speaks it after only 5 days of 
lessons.

As we talked, an unexpected sense of eroticism came over me.  It 
occasionally dissipated, but then I kept remembering again my 
near nudity under the water.  We stood only a few feet apart.  I 
occasionally thought he might be able to see my naked boobs 
through some weird reflection of light off the water, but then I 
always came back to my senses.  He in fact saw nothing at all.  I 
think that is why he conversed more openly with me.  He was less 
intimidated when I was better covered.

His bulge made it worse.  I no longer saw it because it was under 
water.  In fact, I hadn't seen it for a long time.  I observed it 
dissipate while still driving in the jeep.  By the time we got to the 
oasis, I noticed it no more.  Our brief conversation in the jeep must 
have erased whatever dirty little fantasy he carried in his mind.

But I couldn't help but think about how long it remained hard.  He 
remained at a hard-on for nearly the entire drive.  He was hard 
almost the entire time since our last stop, and that was almost two 
hours ago.  'Impressive,' I kept thinking to myself, and then 
considered what a waste it was for his hard cock to remain unused 
for so long.

This gave me a thought.  It was a naughty, very erotic thought.  I 
wanted to slap myself for considering it.  But I couldn't help it!  As 
we continued practicing simple Longton phrases in the water, I 
raised my hands up to my chest.

"What eat for tonight?" I questioned what we were planning to 
have for dinner as I felt over my own nipples.

"Bread...lettuce...carrots," He hesitantly attempted to list the 
menu in Longtonese as I pinched my nipples.  It tingled and even 
hurt a little, but it also gave me a sense of erotic voyeurism.  'If he 
only knew what was going on just under the surface,' I couldn't 
help but think to myself.

"Anything for dessert," I asked as I next moved my hands down 
and supported my boobs from below.

"Cookies."

But what kind?"

"Oatmeal to simulate the grains on this planet," He said in English 
as I heaved the heavy mass of my tits up into the air.

'I bet he would really like to see these,' I naughtily thought to 
myself as I carefully sunk lower to keep my tits under the 
waterline.  They never in my life felt so heavy.

"Now in Longtonese!"

He has forgotten the names of the three most common cereals 
cultivated by the Longtons, so I tell him.

We talked for several minutes more, and the whole time I 
continued to play with my tits under the water.  I squeezed them, 
pushed them together to give myself cleavage, rubbed across my 
nipples, and then squeezed them once more.  I did this as I 
continued on a normal conversation with a man who stood only a 
few feet in front of me.  It was a wonderful experience.

Briefly, I wondered if Brian was doing the same.  I pictured him 
taking hold of himself, feeling himself, massaging up and down his 
own length as we continued our pleasant little conversation.  But 
then I shook my head.  It was a ridiculous thought.  His hands 
remained mostly floating on the surface where I could see them.  
And with the water being so cold, I doubt if he could have done 
anything at all.  As the cold hardens my nipples, I realized it also 
shriveled his cock.  Still, it was interesting to consider.

"Think lunch be now," He told me in Longtonese that it was time 
we got something to eat.  "Keep schedule must."

He was right.  I came back to reality.  We had a job to do and 
needed to stay on schedule.

I followed him out of the water, discretely putting my top back on 
as we left the relative protection of the dark water and entered the 
light of the jeep again.  We walked back to the jeep and now eat a 
light dinner.

			* * * * * 

As I sit on the back bumper of the jeep with a cookie in one hand 
and a cup of water in the other, I find myself wanting to give him 
another hard-on.  My vertical suit is no longer enough to do so, 
even in the substantial light of the lantern.  I see he has become 
accustomed to my sizeable tits.  It is then when I think about the 
toga.

I shiver at the thought.  The toga is the third and most revealing of 
my Longton outfits.  It is far more revealing than the bikini or the 
vertical swimsuit.

It is called a toga for obvious reasons.  It looks suspiciously like to 
the toga worn by the ancient Greeks and at uncounted numbers of 
college fraternity parties.  One part wraps around the woman's 
waist.  The other swings up and over her right shoulder.  The only 
problem is that there isn't enough clothing to cover everything of 
importance.  Specifically, the piece that goes over the woman's 
shoulder is too small.  It is only wide enough to cover a single 
breast.  My other boob will be left completely exposed.

"I'm thinking about changing cloths again," I tell Brian.  "Into the 
toga."

He almost falls off the back bumper.  I smile, almost giggle; 
pleased at his reaction.

"I'm thinking I might has well get accustomed to it," I try not to 
show my elation.  "I don't want to, but I figure the sooner the 
better."

It takes several minutes for him to gather himself enough to 
answer.  "It's up to you," He finally says. 

"I think I will," I conclude, seeing the bulge again start to form 
beneath his shorts.  It forms amazingly fast, and it does so long 
before he even has a chance to see me.  The mere suggestion gets 
him hard.

"Yes, I think I will," I conclude for certain now.  I finish eating the 
oatmeal cookie for dessert and then reach into my backpack and 
pull out the toga.

"Don't look!" I warn him as I walk away, and then think about 
how ridiculous my statement sounds after considering the clothing 
I am about to put on - or lack there-of.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," I say to myself as soon as I am far 
enough away to know he cannot hear.  I was afraid to wear a bikini 
a few hours before.  Now I am about to leave a breast uncovered.  
'And it is such a substantial breast,' I think to myself as I look 
down upon it.  My tits have never felt so big before.  The toga 
covers my left boob far better than the bikini or vertical swimsuit, 
but I do not wear a single stitch of clothing on the other.

			*  *  *  *  *

"You still want to drive?" He asks from the passenger seat as I 
approach.

I see he has packed up everything.  Even the lantern is turned off 
and packed away.  It has taken me several minutes to change 
clothing, but not so much just to change.  Most of it was spent 
gathering enough confidence to join him.

"Sure," I accept.

I know he has seen me.  I notice him take a quick glance up from 
the passenger's seat to look at my bare boob.  But very politely and 
probably with great control, he does not draw attention to it.

I sit down next to him, right up close to him, our hips touching.  
Much to my trepidation, I realize it is my closest boob that remains 
bare to him.  I wish the strap of the toga covered the opposite side 
of my chest.

"I want you to know," He speaks shyly, looking away.  "I really 
admire you, I mean at what you are doing.  I know how difficult 
this must be for you, and I think it's really great the way you are 
willing to put yourself through all of this in order to help these 
people you never met."

"Thanks," I appreciate the compliment.  It is a very nice thing to 
say.

I notice him take another glance at my bare tit.  This time, I see 
him look.  He even pauses for a long moment when he looks, as 
though he is trying to freeze the image on his mind.

"Thanks for not being a jerk about it," I return the compliment.  "If 
it was with anyone else, I don't think I could do this."

"I'm not doing anything special," He counters.  "You're the one 
who has the hard job."

"True," I have to agree.

He glances at me again.  This time he does not look down at my tit.  
He smiles at my face.  And then I smile back at him.

"Why don't you look?" I offer.  "If you want, just go ahead and 
take a look.  You're going to eventually see me anyway."

I'm not sure what I am doing, but I feel as though I have to do it.  
Someone has to break the ice.

Brian accepts, but only for a second.  The expression on his face 
makes him look even more embarrassed than I am.

"Really, it's all right," I prompt him.  "I'm sure you've been to 
strip joints and seen it all, especially with you being a Marine and 
all.  I've heard stories about you guys."

"What kind of stories?" He accepts and turns to face me again.  
This time it is more than just a glance.  He looks hard, almost 
stares right at my bare boob.  He looks directly at my naked, 
exposed, and what feels like a very large boob; and he keeps on 
looking.  I ignore his question.

I wonder what he is thinking.  'Is he imagining what my boob feels 
like?'  I wonder.  'Is he pretending to squeeze it?  Or is he just 
trying to freeze the image in his mind?'  I wish I had the ability to 
read his mind.

"Like it?" I try to break his stare after what seems like ten minutes 
but what is probably closer to only one or two.  I start to feel 
uncomfortable.

"Better than any strip joint I've been to!" He tells me with a big 
smile.  "It's hard to believe you're the same person from back at 
the lab.  You look magnificent!"

"Thanks, I guess," I meekly accept this rather embarrassing 
compliment.  "Would you like to see a little more?"

"More?" He looks at me strangely.

"Yea, more!" I'm not sure what I am doing, but I do it anyway.  I 
do it on a whim, without thinking.  I take hold of the strap of cloth 
going over my opposite shoulder.  "I mean, what the hell?  You 
can already see half!"

"Wow!" He exclaims the moment the strap comes down.  I sit next 
to him topless.

His reaction surprises me, but it is not unexpected.

"What I mean is, you really look beautiful," Brian tries to take a 
step back.  "Sorry about that, but I didn't mean to come across 
quite so strong."  He looks away.

"I understand," I console.  "You were just being honest I suppose."

I know what he really meant, of course.  What he really meant to 
say was that I have a big set of jugs.  He probably wants to say 
something about how unusually firm or what strangely big nipples 
I have too.  He doesn't have to say it; I can see it in his eyes.

"You going to drive like that?" He breaks the silence.

"What the hell!" I remember that I sit in the driver's seat.  "I 
suppose we might as well get going again."

"Might as well," He agrees.

			* * * * * 

Every bump of the jeep jiggles my tits as we speed our way across 
the desert.  The cool night tingles my nipples as it blows in my 
face.

What am I doing?  I yell at myself.  Am I crazy?

I've never done anything like this before.  I usually get 
embarrassed at just a low cut blouse, and here I am topless.  It feels 
so dirty, so wrong; but at the same time it feels so right.

The jeep distracts me when we first set out.  I haven't driven a 
motor vehicle in over 3 years.  The gas pedal does not feel like I 
remember it.  The sand and tall dunes constantly fight my attempts 
to keep us headed on a straight path.  Brian gives me a few 
pointers.  I momentarily forget about my exposure.

But it soon returns.  Driving becomes second nature.  My naked 
chest overwhelms me.

"I think it's cooled down," I say because I have to say something.

"But still hot," Brian glances in my direction.

I think about his crotch but fight the temptation.  My own boobs 
are enough for now.  'One thing at a time!'

"I can't wait until morning," I start again.  "Sitting back up in the 
lab, I used to often try to imagine how hot it really got down here.  
I'm finally going to find out."

"You might not want to know," He answers after a pause.  "The 
heat will kill you if you get caught in the open."

I know he looks at me.  I notice his glances.  He takes quick, 
fleeting glances every few seconds.  He tries to be discrete about it, 
but he fails miserably.

"What if we break down?" I ask.

"Unlikely," He answers.  "This jeep was double and triple checked 
before we left.  Even if we do break down, we have enough 
provisions and survival gear until they send a rescue party."

I know all of this already.  The military briefed us before we left.  
The only reason I ask is to make conversation.

We continue to converse; first about the jeep and then about our 
upcoming encounter with the Longtons.  I want to talk more, but I 
find it difficult with Brian.  He acts shy and even bashful, which I 
find curious.  I couldn't keep him quiet the last couple of days.  He 
always wanted to talk about things other than work, and then he 
would suggest continuing the conversation over dinner or back in 
his room.  But now I see a complete turnaround, and I know what 
it is.  It comes from my big boobs.  My nudity makes him shy.

"Sorry if I blabber," I decide to be honest.  "It's just that I feel 
really uncomfortable, and I'm one of those people who talks when 
she gets uncomfortable."

"Me too," He admits to my astonishment.  "This feels weird."

He glances down, and I make the mistake of glancing down with 
him.  I see his bulge again.

"Oh my!" I mistakenly say out loud.

I think I know why he doesn't want to talk.  It must be difficult for 
a guy to casually talk to a girl with a raging hard-on.  I wonder if it 
comes from his imagination, like maybe he is imagining himself 
fucking my brains out.  'Is it only my tits?'  I can't help but 
question.  'Or has he progressed yet to my pussy?'  I wonder about 
his fantasy and then can't help but have my own.

Taking another glance, I wonder how thick it is.  Then I wonder 
how long it must be.  My left hand holds the steering wheel.  My 
right hand rests upon my right leg.  It would be an easy matter to 
reach over and take a look.

To my astonishment, I let my hand move to the right, closer to 
him.  I don't try to do it.  It just happens.  My hand slides over and 
I allow my fingers to touch his thigh ever-so-slightly.  His bare 
skin sends a thrill through my entire body.

He fails to respond.  I wonder if he has even felt my touch.  I figure 
the only thing Brian can feel is his own raging hard-on.

But then he surprises me.  He moves his leg closer.  He presses his 
leg against my own, opening both legs in both direction.  My pulse 
doubles and a hot wave of sexual energy travels through me.  It is 
as though he offers himself to me.

I don't know what to do!  I am not sure what he wants!  'Is this an 
invitation?' I question.  'Or was the movement of his leg just a 
normal, casual movement?'  It certainly doesn't look normal or 
casual.  He spreads his legs so far apart the loincloth drops down 
between them and his right knee sticks out the side of the jeep.  He 
resembles a male whore who offers himself to play.  I find it 
difficult to pay attention to the jeep.

I wish Brian would just tell me what he wants.  Better yet, I wish 
he would demonstrate it.  I would love him to reach over and grab 
my tits.  I would enjoy it even more if he decided to take his 
fingers and start to tease my nipples. 

My fingers remain pinched between our legs several seconds more.  
I pull my hand up to brush my long hair out of my face, and when I 
rest it back down again I find myself touching his leg.  I can't 
believe what I have just done.  My fingers rest only a few inches 
below his balls and the erect cock above them.

I feel strange.  I feel erotic.  I think I could even be wet.  I am not 
accustomed to being in this position; behind the driver's seat, in 
control.  I often fantasized about taking control of a sexual 
encounter - the daydream about the bedroom encounter comes to 
mind - but in real life I behave like a tremendous pacifist.  I don't 
know what to do.

His bulge remains.  I think it is even bigger now.  The loincloth, 
when it drops between his legs, serves to amplify its size.  I am 
shocked to find myself trying to figure out his length.  'A minimum 
of 7,' I think to myself.  '7 inches, minimum length, maybe even a 
fraction of an inch longer!'  I find it hard to make an honest 
estimate in my heightened state of arousal.

I can't stand it any more.

"Do you mind?" I decide to question him.  I take a glance down at 
his waist as I say it, indicating my intent.  His eyes follow, and 
then he smiles.

"Do you mind if I take a look?" I decide to be more blunt.

My foot lifts off the accelerator.  I slow the jeep down to a crawl.

"It's up to you," He serves the choice back to me.

My decision is obvious.  I look at my own fingers, hardly believing 
they are mine, as they take hold of the flap of his shorts and begin 
to peal it back.  Brian says nothing.  He fails to answer my 
question with words, but his inaction tells me all I need to know. 
	"Very nice," I tease him before I can see anything.  The 
darkness makes it difficult to see.  I know how men like to be 
complimented on their merchandise.  All men are impressed by 
their own cocks.  Given Brian's personality, I figure he thinks his 
is the greatest of all.

I think I see an outline, and then I think I see even more.  Yes, I 
definitely see it now.  I have enough uncovered to see the general 
outline of his erect member.  I raise the flap of fabric above his 
waist and take a look.

"Yes, very nice," I make sure to continue complimenting.

It fails to fulfill my wild fantasies, but it is not small either.  It is 
difficult to tell for certain, but Brian looks to be at least a little 
longer than average.  His length does not attract me so much as his 
bulk.  Brian has a wide girth.

Looking closer, I also notice he is uncircumcised, a little fact that I 
relish.  I've always felt it a sin to circumcise a male prick.  Men 
should be left as long as possible to give as much pleasure as 
possible.

Looking closer still, I think I might even be able to see wetness.  I 
see pre-cumm at the tip.  'Of course he has pre-cumm!' I realize.  
'He's been hard for almost the last two hours!'

I notice the jeep slow to a complete stop.  It is I who bring it to a 
stop, although I'm not quite aware of doing so.  In a wild feat of 
ecstasy, I decide to take advantage of the situation.

"Get out," I tell him sharply.

"What!"  He looks back to me in surprise.

"Get out and take it off," I clarify.  "Take it all off.  I think if I 
have to wear this toga, then you have to take it off.  Put your shorts 
in back.  As long as I have to bare a breast, I want you to show me 
all of you."

He hesitates and stares back at me with a shocked look on his face.  
For a moment, I think I have gone too far.  I don't know what he 
will do, but then he rises.

I watch as he gets up, unties the thin string that goes around his 
waist, and then removes his shorts completely.  He places them in 
the back of the jeep and then gets back in.  Now naked, he sits 
down beside me.

"Is this better?" He asks.

"Much," I answer simply.

We start off again.  This is a dream come true.  A naked man sits 
beside me.  Better yet, he is a naked man with a hard erection 
poking up at attention.  "That's better," I tell him again.  "That's 
much better."

As he glances over at my exposed right tit, I glance down at his 
engorged erection.  I no longer need to imagine it.  I know exactly 
his size and what it looks like.

My fantasy continues.  In my mind, Brian again stands beside me 
at my bed.  I find myself stripping and stroking him again, except 
this time I add an element that I have never considered before.  As 
I stroke him, I tell him not to cumm.  I order him to remain hard 
and allow me to stroke him for as long as I want.  I say I do not 
want him to cumm and to get soft, for I want to continue to play 
with his member.

In my fantasy, predictably, he obeys me and remains hard.  I see by 
the expression on his face that he desperately wants to eject, but I 
keep telling him that he cannot.  "Not yet," I fantasize myself 
ordering him.  "Not yet!  Not until I finish playing."

I stroke on him some more, and then I stroke on him even more.  
In my fantasy, Brian is like my ultimate sex slave.  His organ is 
mine.  I own his erection.  Only I can give him permission and tell 
him when it is time to spurt, but I refuse to do so.  I keep pumping 
on his organ and watching his anguish.  It is as though I sexually 
torture him.

Of course, I know my fantasy can never come true.  It must remain 
just a fantasy.  Men cannot master their cocks no more than a 
woman can master an orgasm.  If I should start pumping on Brian 
right now, I think he will cumm almost immediately.  He has 
already remained hard for so long.  In fact, it is impressive how 
long he has kept up his erection.  I do not know for sure, but I think 
he must have already been hard for a combined total of nearly 
three hours this night.  Deep inside, he must be ready to burst.

Yet he does nothing about it.  He does not touch himself.  He does 
not touch me.  Despite the incredible desire that must be burning 
inside him, his hands remain firmly planted on the handrails of the 
jeep.

I want him to do something.  My tit swells out from my chest from 
only a few inches away.  My nipple clearly shoots forward from 
the very tip.  And from between my legs, although I know he 
cannot see, my pussy radiates heat and wetness.  I want him to 
fuck me.

I shake my head and come back to reality.  This is too much.  I 
must stop my fantasies, but they are difficult to stop as long as 
Brian remains sitting beside me.  I see his stiff prick; his hard, wet, 
and very erect prick.  The lights from the dashboard do not provide 
much illumination for his prick, but it is enough to see the head 
sparkle.  I can tell he pre-cums.

Brian repositions his arms to take hold of the rollover bar above his 
head.  He lifts his hands above his head, allowing me an even more 
open view of his stiff prick and his naked body.  It is as though he 
is putting himself on display for me.  I feel like I am at a strip club 
where the men not only strip down to nothing but also entertain the 
female audience by making themselves hard.

Then I consider yet another erotic aspect of his nudity.  It hits me 
from out of the blue, although I know what triggers it.  The way 
Brian holds his head above his head makes it appear as though he 
is bound.  A hot wave of excitement comes over me as I think 
about tying him myself.

The fantasy turns to a direction never traveled before.  Usually, I 
end my fantasies with a long fuck and an eventual orgasm.  This 
usually happens as I stroke in and out of myself with a dildo.

But now I consider a more erotic suggestion.  I wonder what it 
would be like to change positions.  Instead of fucking me, I wonder 
what it would be like to fuck a man.  I imagine myself encircling a 
rope around Brian's wrists and tying him up to some convenient 
tree.

Suddenly, the big cock before me no longer belongs to him.  He no 
longer owns it.  I feel as though it is mine.  Although it still 
projects out from his body, I have the weird and incredibly erotic 
sensation that he only holds it in storage for me.  I think Brian's 
cock is really mine.  I purchased it.  Just as the men in this Longton 
society own their women, so I own my man.  Or more specifically, 
I own Brian's cock.  And as its owner, I can do with it as I please.

This is a new high for me.  I've never considered these things 
before.  More than just being a passive recipient, I wonder what it 
would be like if the male agreed to be my sex toy; my slave.  Or 
more precisely, I wonder what it would be like if Brian agreed to 
be my sex slave.

I have to stop.  Shaking my head, I come back to reality.

To be continued...

Comments welcome (JackBro_99@Yahoo.com)


<2nd attachment end>


<3rd attachment, "Mission to a New World, Chapter 3.txt" begin>

Mission to a New World (MF, ScFi, size, bond)

			Chapter 3: Camp

				D+1

	By JackBro (JackBro_99@Yahoo.com)

Summary: An X-rated science fiction story.  Debbie and Brian are 
two explorers from Earth sent to an alien planet to recover a 
crashed surveillance satellite.  On the surface live the Longtons, a 
humanoid, pre-industrial revolution culture where the women are 
subservient to the males.  Debbie soon discovers why the women 
willingly allow themselves to be subservient, and in the end she 
wants to stay (M/F, F/M, exh, size, bond).

			* * * * * 

Warning: The following story is fiction, and the acts depicted in 
the story should remain fiction.  It is intended for the entertainment 
of mature adults only.  Be advised explicit sex is contained within 
and should not be read by minors.

			* * * * *

I catch him doing it while lying next to me.  It occurs at the edge of 
the desert, in a small tent at the last oasis before we reach the 
forest.

We arrived at the oasis three hours earlier with me behind the 
wheel.  Thoughts of his big cock slowly diminished.  A woman, 
after all, can only think about cock for so long.  My thoughts 
returned back to the business of driving.

Brian's interest in my size diminished too.  I saw it for myself - 
first hand.  A few minutes after his cock left my mind, I looked 
over to see him soft.  The sight disappointed me, although I don't 
think he ever softened completely.

We arrived at 3:00 AM at the last oasis.  The plan was to hide the 
jeep, set up camp, and get a few hours sleep before trekking the 
last 2 miles across the desert to the protection of the forest.  We 
arrived earlier than originally planned.  The supposed "experts" 
were wrong in their estimate of the jeep's travel time across the 
desert.  The sun rose late at this high latitude and was not due for 
another 4 hours.

The first order of business was to unpack the jeep.  We were each 
provided with a backpack to carry the essential supplies: food, 
water, clothing, emergency survival equipment, and a small tent.  
Our only conveniences - if they could even be called conveniences 
- were cooking utensils and some precious stones to be used for 
currency.  I suppose we were no different than a traveler of a 
thousand years before except for a miniature radio and Geiger 
counter cleverly hidden away within the fabric of our backpacks.  
We used the radio to make a quick check with the Crion to inform 
them we were still alive.

We next drove the jeep a few feet out into the desert.  We drove it 
away from the oasis to hide it between two sand dunes.  Then we 
covered it with a sand-colored mesh and shoveled sand around the 
edges to make sure it stayed covered in the blowing wind.  The 
shoveling took a lot of work and did a good job at preparing us for 
bed.  The two of us staggered back to the oasis exhausted by the 
time the job was done.  We jumped into the cold water to wash up, 
put up the tent, and squeezed in.  Naturally, we brought only one 
tent along.  For reasons of security and since we were supposed to 
be traveling as a couple, we logically carried only a single tent.  
Separate tents would create suspicions if seen by the occasional 
desert traveler.

I normally wear only a T-shirt and panty to bed, and this night 
proved no different.  The only problem was that I carried no T-
shirt, so I went to bed topless.

Brian lay close next to me.  I figured he wanted sex - and I have to 
admit that I was really tempted too - but it just wasn't practical.

"We better go right to sleep," I told him as he crawled in naked 
beside me.  "It will be a long, hot walk across the desert, and we 
only have two hours before daybreak."

He agreed, although seemingly reluctantly.

I don't know if Brian slept, but I know I did.  I passed out right 
away.  The excitement of the previous five-hour drive across the 
desert made me exhausted.

			* * * * *

I awake droopily to the sound of water and to the hint of daylight 
seeping through the tent walls.  It takes me a few seconds to realize 
where I am, but then I open my right eye to see Brian lying next to 
me.

I see him with his head propped up and a smile on his face.  He 
seems to be looking at something at the other end of the tent and 
making motions with his hand.  It takes me a while to figure it out 
in my half-wakened condition, although now I know for certain.  I 
have caught him in the act.  He masturbates himself.

I lie on my stomach and listen.  The thing he is looking at, I know, 
is my ass.  My panty is nothing more than a thong in the rear that 
leaves my ass mostly-bare.  I know what fuels his ecstasy.

I close my eyes again, unsure what to do.  'Should I pretend I'm 
sleeping?' I ask myself.  'Or should I wake up and confront him?' 

I decide to do nothing - at least for now.  His masturbating actually 
turns me on a little.  I picture it in my mind, his hand running up 
and down the length of his erection.  I hear he must be very wet.  I 
wonder what his shiny, cream-covered cock looks like in the 
daylight. 

I find it a wonderful experience to wake up to, a naked man lying 
beside me with his hand around his wet cock.  His stroking makes 
me more and more aroused.  I think I even start to get wet, and I 
feel even hotter than I realize the sight of my half-naked ass drives 
him.  I wonder what effect my bare tits will have, and then have an 
idea.

I sit up quickly to take a look.  It is too fast for him to respond.  
Before he realizes I am awake, I see him make two more full-
length strokes up and then back down the length of his hard 
erection.

"Having fun?" I question.

He quickly tries to recover.  He stops stroking and turns to the side.

"No!" I tell him.  "I want to watch."

This shocks him.  "Debbie!" He cries out in surprise.

It looks as though the sun must be just starting to peek above the 
horizon, for a faint light enters the tent.  It is enough for me to 
clearly see the head of his organ poke through the top of his hand 
even when he turns to the side.  I also see his hand is covered with 
moisture.

"You heard me," I tell him.  "I've been listening to what you were 
doing, now let me watch!"  I can't help but think back to my 
fantasy, the fantasy where a hardened organ stands at the side of 
my bed and its owner begins masturbating it at my command.

He doesn't say anything.  Brian just lies there on his side and looks 
at me.  I catch him taking a glance down at my bare tits.  I can tell 
he likes them.

Then he slowly turns back over and lies on his back again.  I see 
his full erection now, and I see it much clearer than the night 
before.  It looks wet enough for the weak light to sparkle off its 
surface.  I see he has pre-cummed quite considerably, and it makes 
me excited knowing it is all due to the sight of my ass.

Slowly, his hand goes back down.  It moves towards his engorged 
erection and then surrounds it.  He grabs himself again.

"That's nice," I tell him.

He starts.  His hand starts out slow, slowly running up the length of 
his member and then sliding back down again.  The tip of his cock 
points at me.  I see it visibly pre-cumm, and then I see his hand 
spread it all around on the next stroke.

"That's nice," I tell him again.  

I have never watched a man masturbate himself before.  I've done 
it myself a few times but never watched a man go a solo.  The sight 
makes me feel surprisingly erotic, but I want to see more.

"Perhaps this may help," I tell him as I get up on my knees.  The 
tent is small and not very high.  I cannot stand up, even on my 
knees.  I kneel with one leg on each side of his feet.  I am forced to 
bend over, letting my tits sag down in front of me.

"Oh jes..." Brian starts to say, letting me know that he likes me 
better in this position.  It is like catching a man looking down the 
front of my blouse, except I have no blouse to get in the way.  I 
know this amplifies the size of my tits.  He starts to stroke faster.

I like him better in this position too.  I am now closer to his cock 
than any time before.  There is also a lot more to like.  From above, 
I see his entire length.  It is easy to see the prominent veins bulging 
out of his engorged staff.

"That's the way," I tell him.  "Just a little more.  Let me see."

He looks close, very close.  His mouth hangs open, and I notice his 
eyes are looking directly at my sagging tits.  I sway my chest back 
and forth for an instant to show them move.

I only have to do it once and Brian cums immediately.  He first lets 
out a low moan and looks away from my body.  His waist rises and 
his hand stops its stroking action.  A moment later he erupts.

He erupts with a vengeance.  It is a powerful orgasm.  I see why he 
couldn't sleep and decided to jerk himself off instead.  No doubt, 
he has been holding out for a long time.  I can see that his balls 
were quite loaded.

The first squirt goes a good distance and lands on his chest.  The 
second drops on his belly.  Then he has three more, and still his 
dick continues to shake and pulsate with energy.  It looks as 
though he is experiencing an unusually powerful orgasm, which 
momentarily wants me to have one of my own.

"That's nice," I tell him a third time.  "That was very nice.  You 
put on a good show."

He slowly calms back down again.

So do I, and then I think about what I have just done.  I can't 
believe it!  I have just witnessed a coworker jack himself off.  Even 
worse, I enjoyed it.

I come back to my senses and crawl out of the tent.  I still can't 
believe it!  I momentarily walk around in a daze, and then I run 
into the spring that serves as the source of the oasis.  The water 
feels soothing.  It momentarily makes me think that perhaps the 
experience was only a dream.

Brian soon joins me.  I pop my head up out of the water and see 
him walk towards me in the nude.  He is flaccid, and I see an 
incredibly sexy line of spunk run down the middle of his chest.  It 
reminds me of what I have just witnessed.

As he walks in, I walk out.  I do not want to be near him.  I do not 
know why, but I just know that I need time to think and sort things 
out.

"Thanks," He quietly says as we pass near.  It is the only thing 
either one of us says.

			* * * * * 

We leave a few minutes later for the last leg of our journey.  As 
soon as Brian silently packs the tent and I get a few berries out of 
our backpack to eat, we set out.  Our job is to trek by foot across 
the last 2 miles of sand to reach a jagged outcropping of the 
Northern Forest.  This is also the most dangerous part of our 
journey, but essential.  Anyone caught out in the open desert can 
easily die from heat and thirst, yet we must also hide the jeep far 
from civilization.  Our only option is to walk the last, short 
segment.

I do fine the first half of the journey.  The backpack feels heavy, 
but I do all right.  I wish the load could be lightened by the use of 
modern plastics and fabrics, but that might "contaminate" the 
world we are about to enter.

"I need to stop," I eventually must admit to Brian.  My legs ache.  I 
pant with exertion.  Despite the bikini around my body, I feel hot 
and sweaty under the bright morning sun.

"Not yet," He warns.  "We need to keep going.  It will only get 
worse if we take a break."

I realize it is the first thing I have said to him since watching him 
eject.  It feels weird, talking to a guy who I just watched jerk 
himself off, but I try to put it out of my mind.

"I really need to stop," I tell him again a few minutes later.  I feel 
myself stumble.  Up the next sand dune, my feet slip and it feels as 
though I am moving in place.

"All right, but only for a minute," He sits down at the top.

I sit down along side him and quickly take a deep drink of water 
from the canteen in my backpack.  It is almost gone.

"We're behind schedule," He warns.  "It's only going to get 
hotter."

"I know!  I know!" I pant.  "But I have to rest.  I'm not as strong or 
resilient as you."

"You've spent too much time sitting in that lab of yours."

"You're right," I have to admit.

We rest for only a few seconds - or at least it seems like only a few 
seconds.  Brian soon rises, and I reluctantly join him.

I think he walks faster after the brief rest.  I can hardly keep up, 
especially when we walk up the face of the next dune and then the 
one following.  It isn't bad going down, but the uphill journey 
makes my legs ache.  Brian soon pulls out in front of me.  I have to 
admit that he is in excellent physical shape, being a marine and all.

"Not so fast," I yell to him, but he does not seem to hear.  He pulls 
further ahead without looking back.

I see trees in the distance.  I think they pull him, and then they 
begin to pull me.  The trees look too numerous to be just another 
oasis.  Clearly, we approach the edge of the Northern Forest.

My shoulders ache from the combination of the backpack and my 
bikini top.  I cannot do anything about the backpack, but I realize I 
can do something about the bikini.  I take the straps off and allow 
my big boobs to protrude free.  The bikini does not offer much 
cover anyway, and I no longer worry about Brian seeing me; 
especially after what I saw of him.

Brian soon pulls a full sand dune ahead of me.  I only see his tracks 
from the bottom.  We go over three more peaks before I think he 
must notice my topless state, for he stops and waits for me to catch 
up. 

"I need another rest," I tell him.  "Just for a minute."

"But we only have another hundred feet to go!"

"I don't care," I object.  "I need to rest anyway."

I take the last drink of water from my canteen.

"Here, have some of mine," He offers his own canteen as he stands 
next to me.  "We should find a river about a mile into those trees," 
He points.  "Have as much as you want."

I can't believe how thirsty I am.  And I can't believe how 
exhausted I feel.  The combination of the hot temperature, high 
humidity, and little sleep make me feel like I am about to die.  I 
begin to wonder if I might be coming down with something, like 
maybe a strange virus from this alien planet.  I am so exhausted I 
almost forget about my topless condition.

"Come on," Brian soon wants to continue.  "We need to get a 
move on."

"Not already," I complain.

"Give me your pack," He takes me by the arm and pulls off my 
backpack.  "I'll carry both, but only to the edge of the forest."

The absence of the backpack helps a lot.  I no longer stumble.  My 
feet do not seem to sink as far into the sand.  It feels as though I 
almost float over the top of the dunes now.  I even think about 
putting my top back on, but then decide Brian deserves the reward 
for carrying my pack.

"We need to get into the forest," Brian starts to jog with one pack 
over his shoulder and another in his hand.

I easily catch up, walking faster and then jogging like he does.  I 
do not see it at first, but then notice him look over to me.  I realize 
he looks at my tits, admiring them as they bounce and sway with 
my steps.  I again consider putting the top back on - or at least 
slowing down to stop my tits from bouncing around so much - but 
I no longer care.  Brian is getting an eyeful, I know, but the 
knowledge of what he witnesses provides me with a surge of 
energy.  For some unexplained, strangely voyeuristic reason, I 
continue to jog right beside him.

"Race you to the first tree," He challenges as he pulls out ahead.

I strain to catch up.  My tits fly all around.  I can't believe he is in 
such good shape.  Even with the penalty of two packs, I can hardly 
keep up to him.

We advance quickly.  The last few feet take only a few seconds to 
cover.  The sand turns to gravel.  It becomes easier to move.  The 
trees rapidly grow before us.

"Hold on!" I nearly double over with exhaustion within the shadow 
of the first tree I find.  Brian already touches it.  He has won the 
race.  I bend over in defeat, putting my hands on my knees, 
gasping for breath in the heavy alien atmosphere.

Immediately, I feel Brian again.  I feel him look at me from the 
front, and then I realize what he sees.  I am bent over with my big 
boobs sagging down out of my chest.  It is like the tent all over 
again.  'What a tremendous sight Brian has before him!' I can't 
help but think to myself.

I sit down in the shade of one of the trees.  On the one hand it feels 
embarrassing.  On the other I feel a strange twinge of excitement.  
It is as though I want to feel embarrassed at having shown myself 
in such a position, but there is also a sense of excitement about 
being in such a provocative pose.

"Time to take your own pack," He hands it over to me.

I hear him pant too.  Both of us are exhausted.  Running the last 
few feet may have been a mistake.	

I take the pack and notice he wears another bulge.  It has been less 
than two hours.  He has excellent resurgence.

"Let me see you do it again," I giggle as I look down upon it.  I 
mean it as a joke, but he takes it seriously.

To be continued...

Comments welcome (JackBro_99@Yahoo.com)



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