---Nirina’s perspective---
“So…!” thunders the boisterous umZulu Esisha woman, Admiral Sindisiwe ‘Roar’ Ledwaba, dressed in a stunning combination of a stomach baring, sleeveless top and a long, slit-sided skirt “…there I am, not even two weeks after pushing off from kwaZulu, having spent the last 2 days feeling like I’m being eaten by bees with the stress (since I’d spent the entire time trying to balance getting there quicker against burning out the engines and not being battle ready when we actually got there) and we finally arrive!… There we are, expecting to find the Britannian fleet as nothing more than a shattered debris field, expecting to find Britannia itself as a decimated husk, expecting that, if there are any bogeys even left in the system, our job is going to be retribution rather than rescue… and what do I find?!”
Here she jabs an index finger in the direction of her much larger, much more composed Nova Britannian husband, Vice Admiral Aaron ‘Triple C’ Friedman, sitting at the table next to her and wearing a rich blue suit that matches his wife’s (much spicier(!)) outfit beautifully “This. mad. BASTARD. had held out there for 5 DAYS without us!!!… Not slept a wink the whole time, he says! Buuut, based on how it was looking, I don’t know if he would have lasted another hour!”
“And then what happened?” prompts Viig, currently one half of the only pair at the table who aren’t a couple, her halfbrother acting as her plus one.
“Well! Not really able to believe it, I order us to close to the range where we can comm him over EMs… A bit risky but needs must! We open a line and I see this painful image…” she indicates the Britannian’s face, adorned with a mirthfully exasperated expression “…blood pouring down the side of his head, eyebags as long as ropes, woozily swaying in place and…” she turns to him “…do you want to tell them what the first thing you ever said to me was, my love(?)”
The well spoken Britannian rolls his eyes before, softly, calmly and mirthfully, saying “*sigh*…I said ‘Zulus? If you’re here to even the score for Rorke’s Drift, I shall have to ask you to wait your turn… We are currently otherwise engaged(!)’”
The bombastic woman positively screams in laughter at the repetition of her husband’s more than thirty year old (slightly irreverent) quip!
You would never guess it wasn’t her first time hearing it!
The rest of the table laugh too, the six nonTerrans likely laughing more at how hard this woman is laughing than at the joke itself…
I doubt that any of them have the necessary cultural background knowledge to understand the quip and will, instead, be relying on context to fill in the blanks.
“I cannot…*HAHAHAHAHA*… tell you …*HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA*… how hard I laughed!” she declares, while doing an admirable job of showing us how hard it might have been(!)
“In my defence, Sindy, I was fairly out of my mind from sleep deprivation, was suffering severe bloodloss and was somewhat delirious from hunger at the time. I had rather lost my grip on reality. I also had significantly lowered inhibitions and was around 65% sure that I was hallucinating you and your entire armada’s existence…” explains the light skinned man, coolly, calmly and collectedly (as his epithet would suggest).
His wife brings her laughter under control and smiles, bringing her navy blue lipsticked lips to plant a kiss mark on her husband’s cheek.
“You don’t need to defend yourself, my love! I fell for you because of that terrible joke!” she says, prompting a chorus of ‘awwww’s.
---Ndum’s perspective---
Having already seen off the Vrakhand couple, Khr’kowan and Kurkhuw, the Twigg halfsiblings, Viig and Grriv, and the Ulat pair, Yakchutt and Klornett, I extent my hand down to the 2m tall Britannian’s, receiving a sober, dignified handshake.
His wife (a little merrier) does not have the same restraint, throwing herself at me and wrapping her arms around my waist.
I’m reasonably certain this is just enthusiasm rather than sexual harassment but, nonetheless, I’m rather glad of her heels giving her just enough of a boost to lift her (quite ample) bosom safely clear of my crotch to squash, instead, against my lower stomach.
Turning her face up from the level of my solar plexus, she grins “Thank you for an amazing dinner, Representative! I know we were being schmoozed… but I don’t fucking care! You can schmooze us any time if this is the quality of offering we can expect!”
I chuckle and answer “I’ll bear that in mind, Admiral(!)… Thank you and your husband for being such entertaining guests!”
She releases my midsection, allowing me to, once again, see the ebony skin of her toned stomach, as she wags a finger up at me and observes “You diplomats are always such smoothtalkers(!)”
“We try our best, Admiral(!)”
“That’s an understatement!” smirks the woman, wryly.
She turns to my wife, embracing and thanking her just as heartily as she did me.
Finally, she breaks from the embrace, her cucumber cool husband puts his arm around her, the pair of them bid us a last goodbye and our apartment door shuts, leaving me and my wife alone.
I turn to Nirina.
“Well…” I say, as the two of us start making our way back to the lounge by wordless agreement “…that’s the naval defence fairly decisively resolved!… With Admiral Ledwaba’s dreadnought and her samaZulu fleet committed, there isn’t a force in the galaxy that would be likely to attempt to do anything… irreversible on that planet!”
“Agreed!” my wife’s head bobs from below the level of my left shoulder “I’m glad we managed to pull off another dinner without any major snafus!… It was a little touch and go when Viig started telling us how her lover died and what her response to that was(!)… You were quite masterful in redirecting the conversation without making it too obvious that that’s what you were doing.”
“Not subtle enough that you didn’t pick up on it, though(!)” I chuckle, reaching the sofa, taking off my Terran green jacket, carefully laying it down over the arm and turning to sit.
Coming down beside me, she smiles “No… you aren’t quite that smooth an operator, darling(!)” her eyes twinkling “But… then again, I have been married to you for nearly 50 years now! I know you quite well(!)”
I give a contented sigh as I raise my arm to place it across her shoulders, pulling us together into a seated cuddle.
The meal of grilled chicken, roast vegetables and quinoa salad, washed down with a tropical fruit dessert, sits in my belly, adding an extra glow of satisfaction to the contentment of my wife’s embrace… further enhanced by the mellow feeling imparted by the after dinner drinks.
At the last minute, we managed to avoid what would have been the mortifying blunder of serving a pork based dinner!
If my wife hadn’t doublechecked everyone’s files earlier and made an urgent call to the kitchen to change the omnivorous menu option for the chicken skewers, Vice Admiral Friedman would have had no choice but to watch everyone else tuck in to our portions while the cooks scrambled to produce an alternative for him!
It wouldn’t have made the best impression(!)
Thankfully, the dinner went off without a hitch!
The Vrakhand relished their steaks, the Humans and Twigg enjoyed our chicken, Yakchutt seemed to be very satisfied with his salad of nasturtiums, pansies and dandelions (with steamed artichokes and courgette blossoms on the side) and Klornett heartily ate up her meal of roasted squash and root vegetables!
Conversation was scintillating, both over dinner and (even more so) once the social lubricants were broken out (toakagasy cocktails in the case of the vertebrate species, cola in the case of the Vrakhand(!))
All in all, a job well done!
Of course, if an order had simply come down from UTCM Command for the admiral to take her fleet to Graom-Wakhkort and defend it while more comprehensive technological uplift aid was arranged, it isn’t as if she could have refused!
Obviously, ‘I don’t feel like it’ isn’t a valid reason for an officer to refuse a deployment!
Regardless, it still behoves us to grease the wheels…
Inviting her and her husband to dine with us while she was on the capital and pitching it to them softly as ‘how would you both feel about a posting such as this’ will, likely, lead to them having a much more pleasant disposition to it when the order finally comes down the line…
…If the order comes down the line…
Anxiety surges in my belly at the unbidden thought that these two might become the second and third inarguably sapient, natural species ever to be outright denied the ability to join the GU!
What are we going to do in that case?
I’m next to certain that, if the GU rejects them, the UTC will simply defend and uplift them unilaterally…
It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve looked the rest of the galaxy in the eyes while flouting their laws.
A fine example would be Representative Miyazaki strolling around the capital with her illegal, AI husband behind her(!)
But… what if I’m wrong?
What if we Terrans simply don’t have the will to intervene on behalf of these species that I hope and imagine we would?
What if the collective response of every council of our 535 member planets and single protectorate is a simple shrug of ‘not our problem’?
Once these peoples’ existence is known of, it’s only a matter of time before information such as their planet’s location starts leaking out!
It would only take one zealot with access to the right kind of force to learn that and decide they’re going to deal with these new deathworlders by killing them in their cradle to snuff out both their species!
And would that be our fault?!
We who ferreted them out by sending probes to far distant deathworlds to look for them!
We who unveiled them to a galaxy full of aliens, many of whom still revile deathworlders on principle!
We who...!
“Darling…” says my wife, gently, interrupting my anxiety spiral.
I look down into her gorgeous brown eyes, expectantly.
“…you’re getting in your own head right now, aren’t you.” she states.
I give a chuckling exhale as I nod.
Smiling, she gives me a squeeze and says “Ndum… Whatever you’re convincing yourself of right now…? Not going to happen… Alright?”
“*sigh*…You’re probably right… It’s simply not possible for me not to be anxious at a time like this.” I answer, pensively.
“You’re a worrier…” she points out “…and I love you for it but you know worrying just makes you suffer twice… Why don’t we have another drink? We’ve got time before bed and, with how busy we’re about to become, this might be the last night we have any time to relax for a while…”
“Sure… Just a small one though… It wouldn’t do for me to be hungover tomorrow!” I say.
“You could always pop a cap if you’re not feeling 100% in the morning?” she suggests.
I frown “Even if we were the only ones who ever knew, even if I were never humiliated by the information becoming public… I’d still prefer not to live the rest of my life knowing it was necessary for me to take a hangover cure to be fit to attend the Parliamentary session where the Graom-Wakhkortans were revealed to the galaxy. I’ll just have one more finger…”
“Admirable restraint(!)” she smirks.
I stand and take a single step to reach where the bottle of toakagasy we gave to our guests rests on the table.
I pick it up and immediately realise “It’s empty?”
Mildly confused, I turn to my wife.
Holding it up, I ask “Did Ledwaba really drink that much?”
“She had a few, yes…” Nirina chuckles “…but we also had five other guests for whom alcohol was the intoxicant of choice… and ourselves, of course(!) I don’t think it’s fair to blame just her(!)”
“A good point, well made.” I acknowledge “I’ll check the cabinet… If there’s none in there, we’ll have to be satisfied with something else… I’m not ordering more in at this time of night on the eve of tomorrow’s debut! Rumours flying about the Terran Representative and his wife being alcoholics would be unhelpful(!)”
“Fair…” concedes my wife from her seat on the couch.
I walk over to our spirits cupboard and open it up.
I feel the ache of disappointment as I look through the front rows and don’t see any of the Malagasy rum needed to make more of the cocktails we’ve been enjoying.
I take a breath to ask what my wife wants instead when something catches my eye.
Tucked away at the back is a very fancy bottle…
I reach for it, carefully extracting it from the others.
It’s unopened.
I turn around and see my wife standing a few paces behind me.
I hold what’s in my hand up to her and point to it “Earth imported!… We should’ve given this to the guests… I forgot we had it!”
Smiling lovingly up at me she answers “What they don’t know won’t hurt them… We’ll just keep this our little secret(!)” before handing me her cup.
I laugh as I take it and walk back to the lounge table.
I place hers down next to mine, crack open the fancy import and request “Say when…” as I tip the bottle up and the clear spirit starts to trickle out.
5 seconds pass as Nirina says nothing, just watching as I dispense her more and more alcohol.
I’m just about to ask if she really wants me to keep going when she smiles “That’s enough.”
I cease pouring.
I’d guess I just gave her around 50-60ml.
For my own, I tip in a tiny little splash of about 10-15ml.
“Lightweight(!)” teases Nirina.
“My darling… the fact that Sapiens have spent the last 12,000 years wilfully poisoning yourselves in order to kill off all but those possessing the most resilient of livers is not something to brag about(!)” I tease back, inducing a mirthful puff as she sits back down, leaving exactly enough room for me to squeeze into the space between her and the arm with my jacket lain over it.
Into the toakagasy already in our cups, I tip a bottle of fresh, chilled mango juice (from the indoor hydroponicum located beneath the ODR compound), filling them up most of the way to the top.
I then pick up the bottle of vanilla extract left on the table and pipette two drops from it into each of our drinks.
Finally, I take two of the (as yet unsqueezed) lime slices and press their ends together between my thumbs and forefingers, causing a small amount of citric juice to fall into each cup.
I take a clean metal stirbar and mix first my wife’s drink, then mine, hearing the stainless steel rod clink against the stainless steel inner lining of the polished copper cups.
The cocktails now prepared, I reach for Nirina’s.
---Nirina’s perspective---
Ndum wraps his slender, elegant fingers around the rippled pattern in my cocktail cup and extends his +1m long arm across the table, placing it down in front of me.
He picks up his own and stands, rounding the table to wedge himself into the gap between me and the arm… without me needing to tell him where I want him to sit.
He brings his arm back over the top of my shoulders.
I place my hand on his thigh.
I pick up mine and raise it into the air.
“Smile.” I toast, demonstrating one myself.
“Joy.” he answers, raising his own and, I can see through his thick, silky, black beard, obeying my request for a smile.
Without clinking our cups together the way they do in some Terran cultures, we bring them to our mouths and drink.
The rich, earthy flavour of the strong spirit (brought here from the left footprint of the gods, a third of a galaxy away) is the first thing to hit me, followed by the smooth sweetness of the mango, the bright tang of the lime and the subtlest hint of the creaminess imparted by the vanilla.
Having swallowed about a quarter of mine, I bring it from my lips and give a satisfied gasp.
“You mix a lovely mango serenade, my love!” I compliment the man whose left pectoral I’m leaning my head against.
My husband’s chest bounces in a satisfied puff.
I idly stroke my fingers over the fabric that covers the inside of his left thigh, listening to the slow, resonant drumming of his powerful heart as I do.
We sit in silence for a little while, simply enjoying the contact as we each periodically go for a sip of our drinks.
Then I chuckle as I observe “The admiral’s dress was… quite something, wasn’t it! I wish I had the confidence to walk around with that much skin showing!… Just… *bam*! ‘Here’s my gorgeous, toned body(!) Enjoy it, losers(!)’”
“Ah…” Ndum’s deep voice reverberates through his chest into my right ear as he jokes “…you’re finally joining the winning team, are you(?)”
I roll my eyes, mirthfully, and answer “Ndum… I don’t think it’s very common to suddenly turn bi at age 78(!) I think, if I were, I would have realised by now!… Just because I’m straight, doesn’t mean I’m blind! I don’t need to be a gynophile to be able to assess her as a rock solid ¹⁰⁄₁₀!”
“Both of them are rather goodlooking…” observes Ndum, idly.
“‘Rather goodlooking’(?)” I ask, incredulously “Ndum… please don’t pretend you wouldn’t absolutely fall at Ledwaba’s feet if you were both single!”
I see him shake his head in the top right periphery of my right I before he denies “Friedman, yes… if he and I were both single and he weren’t straight… I’d be very interested… You know I’ve no interest in submissives.”
My mind feels like an old fashioned machine, brought to a sudden, dead stop by my husband pushing a spanner between its gears.
Several long moments pass while I attempt to coax my mind back into proper working order.
Finally managing to think again, I lean forward, placing my drink down on the table, looking up to my husband’s face (the bottom of whose chin is level with the top of my head despite us both being sat down) and asking “Darling… I believe I must have misheard you… It really sounded, there, like you were suggesting that Admiral Sindisiwe ‘Roar’ Ledwaba… the Lioness of KwaZulu Esisha, the Mistress of the UTCS Wrath, the woman with a Britannian city named in her honour… the youngest individual in Terran history ever to be given the rank of Admiral and the command of a dreadnought… was a sub!?” with a disbelieving frown.
“Ledwaba is a sub.” he confirms, placidly.
Almost dumbstruck, it takes me some moments before I ask “And… logically from what you said… that would make her husband and subordinate, Vice Admiral Aaron ‘Triple C’ Friedman… Mr Cool, Calm and Collected… a Dom, then?”
“Friedman is a Dom.” he states, simply.
“Bullshit!” I laugh “There’s no way! You’re joking! Never in a million years!… How do you know this isn’t another misfire… like you spending 37 years thinking Yakchutt was ace!”
“You spent 37 years thinking he was gay, need I remind you…” he points out “…and this isn’t like that. For Yakchutt, his sexuality was an idle, back of the mind impression of him I had at a time when he was the first nonTerran we (or anyone else for that matter) had ever met. It wasn’t an examined position I’d taken on him… For these two, I’m certain!… She may, professionally, be his superior, she may be a woman who wore a red wedding dress and him a blue wedding suit, she may, publicly, seem like the assertive and confident one with him seeming docile to the point of submissiveness but… in the privacy of their bedroom, I promise you, the roles reverse!… She surrenders herself and allows him to ‘put her in her place’(!)”
“Wow!…” I exclaim, still a little disbelieving “…Just when you think you know a girl(!)”
This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
My mind tries to conjure an image of Ledwaba submitting and Friedman dominating… and utterly fails to do so!
“It isn’t as if the concept of high powered individuals who take pleasure in surrendering behind closed doors should be foreign to you, my love(!)” Ndum points out, crinkling the skin around his sugilite purple eyes.
I give a mirthful sigh and concede “True, true…” picking my drink back up, returning my right hand to his inner thigh and stroking.
I take another sip of the delicious cocktail while I consider the information my husband’s just given me.
“It must be hell for you to be able to read people so well…” I observe, idly.
“I’ve never known any other way.” he answers “From my perspective, this is normal. It would feel wrong to be suddenly bereft of it.”
I chuckle and give his leg a squeeze as I joke “I sometimes wonder if the existence of the entire Tshwane lineage wasn’t concocted as an elaborate ploy to cover for someone setting out to design the perfect man for me specifically(!)”
“The feeling, though absurd, is quite mutual, Nirina.” he answers.
I smile, pressing myself just a little closer into my inordinately lanky husband’s side and feeling his left arm squeeze me in return.
Then a thought occurs to me.
“You knooow… we heard how everyone else got together at dinner, Yakchutt and Klornett, Ledwaba and Friedman, Khr’kowan and Kurkhuw… but we never told the story of how we got together…” I observe.
“That’s probably for the best… tonight was about them, not us… Plus, it isn’t as if our story has any of the drama of the arena match, the Wartime naval rescue or the marriage agreed to after a single day, during our species’ first contact… We just met at uni, like most diplomats do.” Ndum answers, his shoulder shrugging behind my head.
“It felt pretty dramatic to me at the time(!)”
“It wasn’t that bad.” he counters.
“Of course you don’t think it was that bad(!)” I scoff.
“What?” he asks, sounding confused.
Thrown by that, I turn to look up into his face, seeing no trace of a tease there.
“Ndum… Really?” I laugh “Do you really not know what I mean?!”
“What do you mean?” he frowns back, mirthfully.
“I mean, you were the most eligible bachelor on the course and it wasn’t even close!” I exclaim “You were Ndum Rain! The mysterious and exotic Tshwane!… One of the first batch ever resurrected on Lemak!… Tallest in the year by nearly 30cm! Purple eyes! Handsome face! Fantastic hair! Well groomed! Polite! Intelligent! Soft spoken! Deep voiced! Sweet!… You literally had your pick of the unattached androphiles on the course!… Hell, I’m pretty sure that some of the male attracted girls and boys who arrived there with partners would have dumped them for you if you’d intimated an interest! For you, uni was a spouse selection(!) Just a matter of walking down the line of us and choosing the one whose hair you hated the least(!)… For me? Plain old Nirina Tsiranana, one of hundreds of billions of Sapiens girls just like me?… For me, it was a battle royale with you as its grand prize!… I spent most of First Year full of desperate anxiety about how I was going to get you interested in me and then the whole of Second full of desperate anxiety about what would happen if you lost interest in me!”
He blinks a few times, considering my words, before saying “That’s… not… how... I… remember…”
I take a breath but he heads off the interruption by changing tack midsentence.
“No, no, no! I totally understand what you’re saying and I remember receiving a lot of interest but…”
He trails off here so I prompt “But?” with a cock of my eyebrow and a chuckle.
He frowns “I suppose… the others’ overtures didn’t play on my mind as much. My overriding memory of First Year is of trying to contrive ways to get closer to you… You seemed the least interested in me. You were the only one who never came to watch my Parkour training sessions… you were one of the few not fighting for a seat near to whichever one I’d chosen in lectures and seminars… Even your name, Nirina ‘the desired one’, seemed like a cruel tease! I kept thinking ‘Yes… I desire you! Why won’t you look my way!’… Once we were together, I was a little nervous at the start but then…”
“Then…?” I ask, leaning forward and bracing my hands against his stomach, listening intently.
“Well… you invited me to your family’s famadihana… when we’d been dating for less than 4 months!” he smiles.
“Oh, that? It was just cause you said you’d never been to one before. That your foster family were first generation Lemaka immigrants, born on Earth, with no local tomb or extended family… I just thought it would be nice to give you that experience!” I frown.
My husband smiles and wags his head from side to side “No, my orchid… with that invitation, you let me know that I could be family to you if I wanted to be… I never worried again that you would get bored of me or that you were only humouring me. I could see our whole future laid out ahead of us from the moment you said those words.”
I break into a broad grin as my husband lays on the charm, before quipping “It would have been nice of you to give a headsup about the First Contact War if you saw it coming more than 20 years ahead of time(!)”
He chuckles and tips back the remainder of his cocktail.
I finish mine as well and place the cup down on the table.
I turn back to my husband, bring my left leg up, across his lap, and straddle him.
Wrapping my arms around the back of his shoulders, I kneel up to get the hight necessary to bring my lips to his.
The spice of his natural scent fills my nostrils and his beard tickles my face as I kiss him.
Ndum… my husband… the man who I love best in the universe… the man I’ve already raised one amazing daughter with and, one day, when our lives have calmed down a bit, will raise more… this man and our daughter are my greatest treasures!
He brings a long fingered hand to stroke through the short hair at the back of my head and another to caress my lower back, through my dress’s corset.
Pulling from the kiss and feeling my man’s heavy breaths break against my lower face, I rest my rounded forehead against his flat one and stare into his gemstone-purple eyes.
“I really hope…*huh*… that us being ‘family’…*huh*… doesn’t make the things…*huh*… I’m about to do to you…*huh*… ‘incest’, Ndum(!)” I quip.
I’m jostled as his diaphragm bounces in mirth and he answers “If it did, it would be a little late to be worrying about it now(!)” panting much less than me.
“Good(!)” I smile “…Now, get that cute arse of yours…*huh*… into our bedroom, so…*huh*… we can get your clothes off…*huh*… There’s a good boy(!)”
---Ndum’s perspective---
I’m thrust across the threshold of our bedroom, my wife’s hand pushing at my lower back.
I’m not sure if it’s simply being part of the first generation of Terrans ever to receive regen (being permanently full of the hormones of individuals in their twenties for the last thirty years) or if we are simply blessed by an infinite fascination with eachother but, whatever it is, the spark has never faded from our sex life.
48 years (with another 10 of partnerhood beforehand) and, she still treats me with all the excitement she had on our very first time… as if she’s never quite been able to believe that she actually got me(!)
That’s certainly still how I feel!
“Shoes and socks.” orders my wife as she takes off her own heels, increasing the height difference between us from less than 50cm to exactly 59, flips the privacy field on and walks to place down her rattling cup on our bedside table.
I smile and reach down and remove my shoes from my long, slender feet before placing them next to hers (about half the length) and pulling off my socks to discard, leaving me barefoot.
She looks up at me, brow knit, lips pursed and index finger laid across her chin spur, considering what she wants to order me to take off next.
“Waistcoat and tie…” she finally decides.
I immediately bring my fingers to the front of my Terran green waistcoat, trimmed in Terran black, and unfasten the buttons, pulling it off to drop to the floor.
I have an identical suit to wear tomorrow so it isn’t imperative for it to go straight into a forge to be cleaned.
My hands then move to between my clavicles, unfasten the knot in my long, black tie and pull it out from under my shirt collar.
My upper half now clad only in a Terran blue shirt, I stand, awaiting my wife’s next order.
After another brief moment of indecision, she steps forward and reaches to my belt buckle, about at the level of her bosom.
She unfastens it and carefully pulls it out of the loops before allowing it to drop to the floor.
She slides my trousers down my slim legs, to my ankles, then instructs “Step out.”
With my 45cm long clown feet, it does take me a moment to manage to work my way out of the leg holes (since she’s partially pinning me to the floor by holding my trousers down) but, eventually, I manage to work myself free.
She stands back up and looks me over from toe to head, standing before her in only a blue shirt and a pair of black pants.
Smirking, she points to the floor and instructs “Kneel.”
Without the thought of disobeying her even occurring to me, my knees bend and come to rest on the floor, losing me enough height to put my eyes around 5cm lower than hers.
She steps forward, bringing her tiny feet a toe’s width from where my knees rest and reaching for the sides of my head.
Flattening my ears against my skull, she works her fingers under the voluminous curls of my long, sleek, curly black hair, starting to massage my scalp as she brings her lips down to mine.
I know her preferences well enough that I don’t need to be told that she wants my tongue in her mouth.
She didn’t mention it earlier but… the fact that Tshwane have the longest tongues of any Human lineage is, I know, something else a lot of Sapiens (as well as Neanderthals, Denisovans and Longi) find very attractive(!)
I’m easily able to curl my tongue under the left side of hers and come up on the other side to wrap entirely around it.
My stomach swoops as she reaches down to cup my backside! I can feel her cool hand, only a thin layer of black cotton between it and my skin, as she squeezes the largest bulge of muscle on my body.
Then, she removes her hands from my head and my arse and brings them to my collar, deftly unfastening the buttons.
My shirt falls open and she immediately wrestles it over my shoulders to drop to the floor.
The last piece of fabric protecting my modesty is now a pair of pants around my slim hips.
Pursing her lips around my tongue, she pulls her head away from mine.
“I think, boy… it’s time you started kissing my other mouth… It’s quite hungry for you(!)” she smirks down into my face.
“Yes, Mistress Tsiranana .” I say, obediently.
“Good!” she observes before stepping away and imperiously instructing “…Take off my panties and then lie your head back on the bed.” while looking at me, expectantly.
I lean forward and reach for the hem of her dress.
I trace the tips of my fingers up the outsides of her legs, the insides of my elbows lifting up the bottom of her dress until, finally, I reach the wings of her panties.
Working my fingers beneath them, I slide them all the way down her legs until I see them appear at her ankles.
Unlike me, she did not select underwear to match the colours of the Terran flag, the fabric being, instead, a vivid scarlet colour.
She steps out of them and kicks them to the side, gesturing to the bed behind me.
I lean backwards until I feel the mattress at the back of my head.
Nirina smiles down at where I wait for her and reaches to the front of her dress, pulling it upwards to slowly reveal the gorgeous, medium brown skin of her shapely legs.
---Nirina’s perspective---
I pull the fabric all the way up to my upper thighs, stopping there, as I approach the large, submissive Tshwane man’s bearded, upturned face.
Anticipation tingles through my body as I approach my seat.
I bring my right knee up to the mattress behind his left shoulder.
Casting my skirt over his head like a fisherwoman casting her net, I spring off the ground with my left foot and bring my pelvis down on his face.
A luxuriant beard tickles my bottom, inner thighs and lips as I feel his mouth open and a (compared to mine) Terran giraffe tongue extends out and inside me.
The tops of my feet press into his upper chest and my stomach swoops as I feel his organ coil and dance its way around the insides of mine.
Admittedly, I have quite limited experience (not having received this courtesy from any of the few lovers I had prior to Ndum) but I cannot imagine the most adept Sapiens cunnilingist could pull off what my husband can!
My spine curls and I let out a (slightly more animalistic than ideal) growl of pleasure as I grasp the footpost of the bed.
I clamp Ndum’s head between my thighs hard enough to temporarily immobilise the rhythmic bulge in my skirt his head was creating.
I slacken off enough to let the bobbing resume.
My eyelids droop and my panted breaths quicken as I feel the pleasure build throughout my every fibre!
I decide there’s only one thing that could make this any sexier right now.
I reach in front of me, between my legs, and begin hiking my skirt up my thighs.
My husband’s voluminous, jet black curls are revealed first, followed by just a sliver of his flat forehead.
I stop there, leaving him blinded by my skirt as my orgasm seizes me.
“Oh… FUCK!” I whimper, my palm coming down to press against the uncovered skin while my fingers slide beneath his hair, along his scalp.
I crush his skull from all sides (left to right with my thighs, front to back with my weight and top to bottom with my pelvis and hand) as I wait for the orgasmic shivers to abate.
He does not withdraw his tongue but has stopped moving it… my husband knows what I require of him(!)
When I’ve finally recovered, I begin lifting my pelvis and feel the odd sensation of Ndum’s length slipping out of me as he keeps it still and I come up around it.
I allow myself to collapse sideways onto the bed to catch my breath.
Ndum stays where he was, his head on the mattress, the rest of him folded backwards on the ground, his slender chest rising and falling as he pants too.
I reach out to caress his hair, smile and praise “Good boy…*huh*…*huh*…*huh*… Shall I return…*huh*…*huh*… the favour now?”
A pair of purple eyes swivel towards me.
“Yes please… Mistress Tsiranana.” he smiles back, hopefully.
I giggle.
Seeing this goliath of a man, this man that anyone who only knew us publicly would assume wore the pants in our relationship, this man who stands at the Parliament on behalf of all Terrankind... seeing him melt like butter and become putty in my hands when we're alone... there are no words to describe it!
I resolved early on in our relationship, nearly 6 decades ago now, that I would never take him for granted.
I can never allow myself to lose sight of how blessedly lucky I am to have nabbed a man so utterly perfect for me!
Of course, having been a Tshwaneophile for longer than I've been sexually awake (fantasising about sweeping tall, purple eyed princes with curly hair off their feet since I was a little girl) could have massively backfired on me!
One of the main pitfalls of having a lineage specific attraction is people romanticising the archetype to the extent that they become blind to the individual!
Cognitive dissonance is a hell of a drug, afterall!
If her mental image of Denisovans has them all as playful and cuddly, a Denisovophile might be unwilling to accept that she was dating one who was cold, uncaring and abusive.
If a Longiphile has a mental image of Longi as quiet, reserved, stoic and measured, he might find himself needing to simply deny the fact that his Longi girlfriend was a psychopath with emotional regulation issues!
And, if every one of my fantasies for how Tshwane men were hadn't been exactly borne out by this man, how quickly would I have been able to recognise it?
Of course, that slices both ways too... when you have an attraction to a specific lineage you have to make sure you don't simply see your partner as 'a Tshwane', 'a Neanderthal', 'a Longi' etc. and that you both appreciate them as an individual and allow them to see that you're doing that!
There were a few such hiccups between us, early on, but they're ancient history now.
This man has given me a decades long happy ending, a life I wouldn't have dared dream of as a teenager!
Literally, if I wrote out all my blessings on a sheet of paper and time travelled back to give it to my 16 year old self, sitting at her desk in her bedroom at her parents' house, she would read it over and then sneer up at me that 'This is a bit of a selfindulgent wishlist, isn't it? You want a 231cm, submissive Tshwane husband and a daughter with natural heterochromia?!… I know it's much more common in hybrids but it's still only like 6 or 7% of them, right?'
If I told her that this wasn't a list of things I wanted but a list of things I got, that we got, she would have called me a liar!
As I said, I can never take it for granted.
"Get on the bed…" I instruct, smiling.
He stands, allowing me to see the leanest Human body of any I've laid eyes on.
Ndum does not have a single iota of fat wasted anywhere on his slender body! The result being that, though he stands more than a third my height again and though his every muscle shows, clearly defined, through his skin, he's only about 13kg heavier than me!
He's light enough that I can (and sometimes do) lift him in a bridal carry, even if it is a bit awkward taking care not to bang his head or feet on things more than a metre away from my body(!)
He lies down beside me and I bring my fingers to trace the furrows between his abdominal muscles in a loving caress.
Then I reach over the side of the bed and feel for the handle of a box.
---Ndum's perspective---
My wife pulls out a container from under our bed and I take the cue to move to the headboard, settling my head down on the pillows there.
She pulls out a mess of straps and spends a moment untangling them.
Turning to meet my eyes with a smirk she crawls towards me, still clutching the thing in her right hand.
Bringing her lips to mine, she kisses me.
I close my eyes and enjoy the sensation of the kiss while still having the taste of her sex on my tongue.
She pulls away and chuckles "*hhh*… Open wiiide!"
The bottom of my beard tickles the top of my chest as I part my teeth for her without opening my eyes.
The next thing I experience is a rubber mouthpiece being gently slotted between my teeth and pushed backwards… then, l feel the panel covering my lips.… then, her hands round the sides of my head to fasten the straps.
My eyes are still closed but she seems to decide that, in addition to silencing me, she wants to blind me too as I feel the *pop**pop* of snap-fasteners being sealed at my temples.
Two small hands close around my right wrist and that arm is irresistibly drawn out to the bedpost on that side.
I hear my wife tapping at the hidden panel there for a few moments before it pops open.
I feel as she closes the cuff around my wrist, immobilising that arm there.
The mattress depresses as she steps over my chest and draws out my left arm to the other bedpost.
The second cuff is closed around that wrist, placing me entirely at her mercy… just where I want to be.
“There now… aren’t you a pretty sight!” she observes.
From the depression of the bed around me I can tell that she’s standing with one foot either side of my torso.
I feel her fingertips reach down to brush against my left pectoral.
I quiver.
Then, I feel her weight shift as she returns to the top left of the bed.
I hear the rattle of her cup as she lifts it from where she left it.
My chest tenses as I brace for what I know is coming.
I gasp as something wet and freezing cold is pressed into the side of my neck.
She allows it a moment of contact before she begins to slide it downwards, painting a stripe of cold water over my skin.
I feel her draw close to my left ear and whisper “Now… baby boy, I’ve got twelve more pieces of ice in here…” the cup is rattled “…do you think you can wait until all of them are gone?”
I hesitate… then nod my head.
Her breath tickles the side of my neck as she laughs and teases “Good boy… You know it’s going to feel all the sweeter for having built up the an…ti…ci…pa…tion(!)”
---Nirina's perspective---
I feel the last of the ice cubes turn to water between my cold fingers and Ndum's shivering, drenched chest.
Water has pooled in his bellybutton, run down his sides, leaving wet patches on the bed, and run down his stomach to soak the top of his pants.
As deliciously vulnerable as he looks right now, wrists chained, gagged, blindfolded, shivering and wet, I’m a pleasure Domme.
I don’t really want him to suffer… at least, not by anything except weaponised pleasure(!)
I produce a towel and bend down to dry off the water on his chest.
He’ll quickly warm back up now he’s not drenched any more…
“You did very well, boy!” I tease, sensuously “I think you’re ready for your reward now.”
I didn’t phrase it as a question so, instead of nodding or shaking his head, he just points his gorgeously blindfolded, gagged face in my general direction, quivering with some combination of the lingering cold and excitement.
I bring my hands to the waistband of his black pants and slide my thumbs up the leg holes.
With one side of his underwear bunched in each hand, I start to slide them down his skinny legs.
A long, slim cock springs up from confinement.
I bite my lip as I admire it but am able to restrain myself long enough to get his pants over his sleek, spindly feet.
I pull the box to the left side of his hips and lean on his thighs with my upper arms, bringing my face to just below his enchanting manhood.
Looking past it, up to his panel gagged, blinded face, I chuckle and pull it down to give its underside a tender kiss.
He gives a pathetic little moan that only makes me want to tease him harder!
I bring my tongue between my lips and begin licking.
I’m very careful, as I do, to pull back whenever I sense him getting a little too excited… I want to make this last!
He and I are both most satisfied by edging him to the point where he’s turned into a complete and utter goon(!)
After some time of enjoying his reactions to my tease, I cease.
I smirk up at my blinded husband and reach out my right hand into the box.
I withdraw a fat cylinder with a skinny hole through the middle.
I gently slide it over the top of his penis, glistening with my saliva, and push it down, all the way to the base.
Only a tiny bit of his glans, around his urethra, is visible at the top.
I activate the skin adherence and the stroker anchors itself to him at the bottom.
Then, I select a custom programme that we’ve worked out over about 2 decades of trial and error from owning this thing and set it going.
Muffled moans immediately begin emanating from my husband’s stifled mouth as the device begins to vibrate and massage the part of him it contains.
The programme is specifically designed to keep him right on the edge for the absolute maximum time possible so, now, the only question is how long can I hold myself back?
His legs tense, stretch and kick from his frustrated edging, causing me to come to a decision.
I grasp his left ankle and begin walking it up to the top of the bed.
“You’re not tied up enough(!)” I tease as I pull out a second cuff from that side and attach it around that ankle before taking the slack back in and locking the chain so that it can’t be pulled out any further.
I round the other side of the bed and repeat the process for his right leg.
Satisfied now with the extent to which all four of my husband’s long limbs are restrained above his head, I take a step back, away from the bed and bring my hands to the lacing at the front of my green and blue corset.
I loosen it up, watching the stroker tease my husband’s sex as I do.
Eventually, I decide I have enough room and push the straps of my dress off my shoulders.
It drops to the floor, leaving me as nude as my husband, not that he can see that!
I return to the box, still at the left side of his hip.
I withdraw a tube of gel and something long, fat and squashy.
I move back to a chair, facing our bed, and admire my husband as the prolonged edge session drives him mad!
With my cock in my hand, I place down the lube for the moment and turn it’s end against my clit.
I activate the skin adherence and shudder as it nervejacks me.
Now it’s attached, this thing feels (for all I know) exactly like having a genuine Human phallus in a state of erection and arousal would.
I pick the tube of lube back up and squirt some into my hands.
I fix my eyes on my husband's shuddering backside, suspended from the bed by the chains at his feet and, slowly and sensually, begin to tease myself while applying lubrication for him.
Somehow, with this thing attached, it always becomes ×10 harder to hold myself back from just taking him!
Pegging him with just an old fashioned strapon in the days before nervejacking was… well it was definitely good… it was good enough that we still own a strapon and I still occasionally get it out to relive the old days… but it was nothing like it is with a bionic!
Fuck! I want him now!
But… I need to wait… he needs to be teased and edged and it’s more satisfying for me this way too…
I glance at the clock.
I’ll give him… 20 minutes… a bit less than usual but… I don’t think he’ll complain…
---Ndum’s perspective---
From across the room, I hear another squirt of lube followed by the sounds of it being applied.
I didn’t think I was due for release for a while yet but I’m certainly not complaining.
I feel Nirina mount the bed and slide her right thigh beneath my left buttock and her left beneath my right.
Something fat and slippery glides through the space between my left thigh and the device that’s slowly sapping my sanity as my wife leans between my legs.
Even with my torso curled up like this, my wife struggles to reach my face, only just about able to reach with the full length of her arm and most of the length of her horizontal torso.
Her fingers close around the bottom of my blindfold and she yanks it free of the snap-fasteners.
A blurry bedroom is revealed, along with two out of focus Nirina’s.
It takes me a few seconds to realise that my eyes were crossed beneath the blindfold.
The room resolves itself into proper focus and my Mistresses beautiful bare chest is revealed, positioned below her stunningly beautiful face, framed by her lovely, short, straight brown hair, and above the stroker on my cock and her (much more impressive) one pressed against the front of my pelvis.
Despite having been bi my whole life, I’ve never actually had the real thing…
I can’t imagine its better than my wife’s bionic though.
In fact, in one way, I know the ‘real thing’ would be inferior(!)
She smirks and demonstrates what that way is, activating her penis’ vibration.
Glancing over to the clock, she casually observes “It’s time for your nightly pegging session, babes(!)”
“Yhhs ghhhr…” I shudder from beneath my gag panel.
Her brown eyes sparkle with glee as she pulls back her lubricated member, aims it downwards, presses it between my cheeks and begins slowly and gently pushing it forward.
I moan loudly as my wife’s length slides into me, filling me up and vibrating my prostate.
She brings her hands to wrap around the tops of my thighs for leverage as her hips slowly thrust back and forward.
I’ve been teetering on the edge for so long that I really don’t think I’ll be able to stand up to much of this!
Thankfully, last I checked, she’d set her cock to have something of a hare trigger so she shouldn’t last long either.
She gets faster as she absolutely dominates my arse… correction; her arse that happens to be attached to me(!)
The chains at my wrists and ankles go taut as I can feel myself fall off the cliff of pleasure, past the point of no return but not yet having hit the ground.
She sees and redoubles her intensity to quickly bring herself there with me.
I scream into my gag as a jet of hot white liquid blasts against my lower chest.
One more second and my wife seizes, closes her eyes and emits a shuddering moan.
---Nirina’s perspective---
“You’re being silly!” I giggle up into the beautiful bearded face of the man into whose bare chest I’m nestling.
“I’ve been saying this for decades!” he protests, the skin crinkling over the nonexistent nose bridge between his wonderful purple eyes.
“Yes, you have! And the Crossroad Hypothesis was as silly when you first started espousing it as it is now(!)” I grin back “It doesn’t make any sense! We know that Sapiens didn’t have any more admixture from other lineages than any of the other lineages did… until we started expanding South, West, East and North, into all your ranges, i.e. whatever X-factor led to our success must have predated that extra admixture!… Also, why wouldn’t having been on a crossroads between lots of other lineages have made Khandwa into the successful ones? Or Longi? Or Denisovans, come to think of it? All of them had ranges abutting eachother, Longi and Khandwa abutted Danau, Khandwa and Denisovans abutting Neanderthals and Longi and Denisovans coming quite close to where the Southern end of Dzhigda’s range probably was! That’s four direct neighbours each! That’s only one less than us but, to even get us that high, you need to assume Tshwane and Inhatzenguele are separate lineages and not just two different sublineages(!)… Because, if we’re counting sublineages, then the five different Longi sublineages each look even more like they should have been the ones to have the edge!”
He shakes his head and argues “Yes, but your lineage was located at a point in Afroeurasia where you could intercept any Tshwanoids and Bwato heading North, Irhoud heading East, Neanderthals heading South and any Lisri, Denisovans or Khandwa heading West who had made it through the Levantine Neanderthals’ territory! Your lineage was the only one to abut or come close to the ranges of other lineages of all three families of Heidelbergensians and Bwato, thus putting you in a uniquely advantageous position when it came to the flow of advantageous genes! Plus, it’s not just about the admixture! Having such a unique diversity of neighbours could have had cultural effects! You would have come to understand, better than the rest of us, that people are people, whether or not they look anything like you (a trait that would serve you well when you began your expansion)! Any good ideas passing from Africa to Eurasia or back would have had to go through you first!… I’m utterly convinced that it was your lineage’s position controlling routes into and out of Africa that furnished you with the advantages that led to your ultimate success!”
I smile and pat his chest, saying “And, as I tell you every time we have this discussion, Ndum, I’m less convinced by this geographic determinism! I think any of the lineages could have been the ones to take over the Earth, or none of them, or all of them… blending into a perfectly even genetic soup(!) It just depended on circumstances! I think the fact that it was Sapiens who took over the Earth and all the other lineages spent tens to hundreds of thousands of years as just tiny fractions of our genes, each in the low single digit percentages or less range, is only due to chance!”
“We must agree to differ on that point then.” he smiles back.
“As we must every time it comes up(!)" I chuckle.
He gives a contented sigh and scooches himself down the bed to lay his head back on the pillows.
“How are you feeling about tomorrow?" I ask, more seriously but not sombrely.
“Much better now that my Dommy Sapiens wife has reminded me of my place(!)" he quips, eyes still closed.
“I'm glad… Do you have any idea what you want to have for breakfast?" I say, closing my own eyes and feeling sleep start to tug at my consciousness.
“Leeet's… haaave…" he deliberates “…pancakes… Yes… Pancakes are good."