Imperfect Partners by Ann Jacobs Page B

ass, invade his tight hole and feel his anal sphincter constrict around her fingers. She wanted—oh gods and goddesses of the universe, she was coming. Coming. Coming as she’d not done since before her alteration. A s she’d never dared to dream she might ever do again.
    When her trembling slowed and she lay against the straps, drained for the moment, Conan withdrew, his huge cock still glowing. Still purplish red. “You haven’t come,” she said when he came up beside her and adjusted the bench so she reclined.
    “I will. Soon you will want this again, so I will keep it in readiness. You may watch while Ulric eases his desire in me. I’ve heard it said that it arouses women to watch males fuck one another. Of course,” he said, a slightly embarrassed look on his handsome face, “I would never have done such a thing back on Earth.”
    When I was whole.
    Nebula heard the words Conan did not say. Her heart ached for his loss, more even than it had ached when she’d given up her fertility in the cause of protecting future generations. Her cunt wept for his stolen seed that would never again take root in a fertile woman’s womb.
    Ulric knelt at Conan’s feet, his large hands skimming Conan’s calves, his thighs. Conan sighed, parting his legs slowly as though he wanted to close them, conceal the evidence of his unmanning. When Ulric caught the ring in Conan’s cock between his teeth and sucked it in, Nebula gasped. She wanted that cock for herself. Wanted the touch of a lover’s tongue on her clit, in her cunt.
    The graceful line of Ulric’s neck and shoulders, the glow of candlelight on his gleaming skull, the vulnerability of his asshole stretched around a silver plug made Nebula’s skin grow warm. If only she were the one paying Conan homage! Conan’s abdominal muscles rippled, though he remained motionless, and a sheen of sweat formed on his brow, his powerful chest and arms.
    Her own rear end twitched when Ulric reached around and ringed Conan’s asshole with his fingertips. The slave moved as though they had choreographed this scene—first the caresses, the arousal, inexorably moving toward a crescendo. Nebula imagined their eventual joining, cock to ass, the pressure building, the explosion, when one or both of the beautiful eunuchs before her would achieve nirvana.
    Who would fuck whom? Nebula’s sex wept with a desperate new lust at the thought of Conan’s big cock filling her there. Her asshole ached delightfully from the slave’s earlier invasion. Her nipples puckered and her belly muscles convulsed when Ulric rose, kissed Conan full on the mouth and whispered something she couldn’t hear.
    “No.” Conan spoke sharply as he grasped Ulric and worked the plug out of the sex slave’s asshole. “Bend over,” he ordered, and when Ulric did Conan positioned his huge, flashing neon cock to impale him.
    Nebula couldn’t help crying out. She wanted Conan’s huge sex inside her, not up the ass of a hired sex surrogate.
    A s though Conan divined her thoughts, he glanced at her. “I have changed my mind. You may fuck me. I need to see to my woman’s pleasure.”
    Conan bent and presented Ulric his back, his rounded, muscular ass cheeks spread by his own hands. Nebula noticed that Conan, too, was wearing a small butt plug that Ulric removed and then sank back up Conan’s ass.
    Perhaps, she thought, the plugs were aids all eunuchs had to wear. Ulric began to slide the slender plug in and out. Slowly, sensuously, not unlike the way he’d worked his own cock in and out of her asshole moments earlier. She wanted Conan’s cock…his tongue…his big hands.
    She wanted them invading every orifice in her body.
    “Gods in the heavens, I die for wanting you.” Nebula clamped down on her lips, determined to say no more.
    Too late. Conan looked up and met her needy gaze. “Let us indulge my future mate,” he said, striding to the head of the table and rotating it so all Nebula needed was to open her