The Joracian Mystery

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After Hours

We returned to the Club, which surprised me. It was surely very late. “It’s After Hours now,” Àkbä told me with a sophisticated wink. I sensed that we were about to share a delightful experience. No sooner had we arrived than we were met by a luscious and sexy young nymph, who soon divested us of our attire and led me by the hand deep into hidden recesses of the recreation center, cloaked in murky shadows of a weak blue light.

She quickly discovered the bulge at my crotch and, as we sank to the soft cushioning of the playing floor, began attending to its pleasure with inspired Rabelaisian zest. I fully expected her to climb on top and slip down over my serviceable member at any moment; surprisingly, she persisted in these delectations of her tongue and lips until her studied attention resulted in an ear-flushing, temple-pounding eruption. Even so, she did not remove my supple protuberance but continued her ceremony until I sank back, unable to restrain a tremendous sigh of relief.

“Ice wallow,” she said cryptically. I closed my eyes for a few moments, dozing off. When I awoke, I could smell the spicy steam of a hot tub nearby and quickly made my way to it. So thick were the shadows all around me, I could not make out another soul but only the vaguest hint or outline of other shapes. The tub seemed abandoned as I sank gradually into its bubbling, frothy water. But I soon discovered I was wrong.

Arms encircled my waist, hot breath at my neck and ears, and soft plump breasts rubbing against my shoulder blades signified that I had, once again, fallen into the clutches of another denizen of the Joracian Erotic Zone. This marvelous seraph slipped her hands down my sides, slowly, below the water, reached around for my newly-acquired erection, which she took gently in both hands, pressing her pudendum hard against my coccyx. Leaning forward, she licked my ear with her tongue. “Come with me. The Sauna!”

I did as she bid me. We raced, hand-in-hand, around a little corner to a massive cedar door, which this houri pushed open with ease. Inside, she disappeared in a thick fog of steam; I felt my pores open as never before. We kissed long and lasciviously; then, as I lay back on a wide wooden bench, she climbed on top of me, easing herself with a practiced precision over and around my blood-gorged, hydraulic pump.

I was used to mutual pleasure-taking with Sylvia; but never before had I encountered anything like the succubus I was now tupping. After massaging her Molly with the great iguana heaving at my groin, this exotic demoness began gloriously writhing and, at the apex of her lust, seized my head with both hands (gently tugging and massaging my hair and scalp with her canny fingers), pressing her lips hard against mine, her wet hot tongue exploring the inside of my mouth. Wave after wave of excitement rolled over us, taking me to new peaks of ecstasy. My expectations were not disappointed: we came together ferociously, she and I, sweat pouring off us in torrents. My heart was pounding fiercely in my chest when she suggested we go for a swim.

I had not known such a thing was available in Joracian society (Àkbä had never mentioned it). But the pool to which my partner now led me was like nothing I might have anticipated. A huge spherical container, open at the top (“Like a goldfish bowl!” I exclaimed), nearly filled the vaulted chamber. Naked figures of men and women hung suspended, moving effortlessly and slow, in the transparent blue liquid that filled the container. Ladders rose to the top; we scaled them now. Once at the top, she dove in and I watched with amazement as she penetrated the marvelous fluid. Wasting no time, I stepped off the edge…

The substance I found myself suspended in was not like water or any other liquid with which I had been acquainted on earth. While it had some of the properties of water, it felt much, much lighter: one virtually glided at will through the rippling gauzy aether. Another property of this curious substance took me by surprise.

“It isn’t water,” my consort said; and the strange sound and timbre of her voice amazed me. Even more amazing was the fact that her mouth had been open the whole time she spoke. “It’s a special element called esval borla fedomer. It’s breathable.” After some hesitation, I quit holding my breath.

“Bizarre sensation,” I said, a slight tingling in my lungs, like butterflies in one’s alveoli. Or the feeling one had as a child at Christmas time.

Even as this thought occurred, we had begun to discover new games. Perhaps due to the physical sensations afforded by the wondrous medium, my erection returned: I now penetrated my juicy cherub’s posterior just as her mouth and tongue found the hard pole of a young Joracian male. Transported through this flowing sublime, I saw that other naked bodies were engaged in similar frolic and sex-play, couples and trios andto my astonishment!at least one quartet. Each group seemed oblivious to all the others; and I soon returned to the soft buttocks of the creature whose hips I held firmly in my hands, unable to distinguish my pelvic thrusts from the zesty shaking of her bottom against the stiff spar of my lust. Greedily, I remained for what seemed (but could not have been!) hours until, at last exhausted by our vigorous sport, we crawled out of the gaseous orb and descended the ladder, our bodily surfaces dry as a bone.

If these erotic discoveries had come unexpectedly, the diversions that consumed the rest of the evening were a revelation. Settling down on soft, buoyant cushions in the deep shadows of the main room, nubile maidens brought us additional refreshments, of both liquid and solid variety. Somewhere a deep gong sounded, and a presence of some authority suddenly announced: “Clej Ameo is an Ideal of Service!” His voice was briefly drowned out by excited whispers and mutterings. When they subsided, the spokesman continued. “An Ideal of Service we shall now ALL EXPERIENCE—IN FULL!”

My hyböl was taking effect. I relaxed back into the soft cushions supporting me and wondered what new treat might be in store. I did not have to wait long.

A group of naked beauties were paraded before us. In the pale blue glow illuminating the room, I could just make out that their hands seemed tied by some light yet tensile braid and that these females were chained together. I watched with growing anticipation as they formed a circle, with breasts and pudendum facing out towards their onlookers. From the distance at which I sat, their faces projected a kind of feral excitement, as if sensing that their aroused hunger was about to be satiated.

Suppressing a wild thrill, I took a sip of my hyböl. A passing concubine offered me several consciousness-enhancers from a tray that she held beneath her fine bulbous tits (”Thanks ever so much, darling!” and I licked one of her nipples before she turned away). Suddenly, an army of over-stimulated Joracian males, worked into a frenzy of lust, swarmed over the stage from all directions, each one having his way in turn with the captive thralls. In fact, the pleasure-slaves were no longer visible but had disappeared entirely under the frenzied pack of males, their ravished cries (of unimaginable pleasure!) nearly drowned out by the clamoring jeers, taunts, snarls and boasts of their irresistible masters.

“C’mon,” Àkbä urged, tugging my elbow, having suddenly appeared out of nowhere. “It’s your turn, Sam!”

I tried to offer an excuse, claiming that I had perhaps overdone it with the hyböli and other chemical “enhancers” I had consumed during the course of the day. But there was no refusing him.

As we approached our ensnared quarry, I felt a stiffening sense of purpose. A bit bleary-eyed with all the exertion, I approached one lithe consort who sank to her knees with eyes closed (so reverently did she approach her duties!), performing a splendid fellatio on me at once. Intuiting her boredom or fatigue before she finished, I withdrew from her mouth-watering devices and slapped my porpoise into her with an exuberant solicitude that, by this time, had become second nature. My encouragement thrilled her, for she hooked her long lithe legs tightly about my waist, locking her heels together, even raising her knees to my ribs to show how much she was enjoying herself.

As I reached a bone-rattling climax, I noticed Àkbä (who had turned his aroused chattel over and was jamming his engorged member into her anus) slowly raising his head, his lips covered with blood. I wondered exhaustedly how he had managed to injure himself.

Pulling me away from our carnal sacrament, he mumbled through numb lips: “Let’s get out of here.”

After a quick shower and a change of garments, we headed for the mini-ship. Something was bothering me, a vague irritation that I could not quite put my finger on, like cosmic cockroaches gnawing steadily away at the edges of the Universe. I made up my mind to ask my Joracian pal a few questions once we returned to the ship.

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