Sweetums

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A friendly, furry creator of romantic smut.

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We now have a group for erotic literature writers! It's called "Erotic Literature Writers." Shocker …
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  •  · Here's my honest advice. Look more closely at the one you see as "too layered." That sounds rich. Be…
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Warning: This chapter is mildly erotic, adhering to the PG-13 standard. If you would be offended by …
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That's a little Portal humor. Aperture Science: We do what we must because we can.

Here's my honest advice. Look more closely at the one you see as "too layered." That sounds rich. Being a writer, IMHO, is putting yourself into difficult situations, like "how am I going to sell this incredible event, make it believable?" or "the characters need to do this, but it just put a great big hole in my plot." These, I've found, are opportunities where you're grappling directly with what's real and true about people. You'll surprise yourself.

In my opinion, anything goes. Just make sure it's credible that he's never seen again.

I'm going to go invest in some some wicker futures right away!

Yikes! Hopefully she left clues for herself in the form of people who will seek her out, places she has to go to, and things she must inevitably interact with.

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Sweetums, Sorry for the late response. Having health issues at this moment. Thanks for the invite to the new club. But I think in the near future, I will be keeping my writing a little tamer. All the best. I shall probably be off the grid soon due to surgery.

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We now have a group for erotic literature writers! It's called "Erotic Literature Writers." Shocker there. The intention is to have a place we can peer review pieces containing sexual or erotic content and have discussions around and about such content. Join us!

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Warning: This chapter is mildly erotic, adhering to the PG-13 standard. If you would be offended by kissing, the suggestion that sex may have occurred offstage, or a few swear words, please read no further.

The story premise: A NASA doctor is chosen for the first colony mission to Mars along with eleven extraordinary women.

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01: Monday, July 6, 2043, 1400 hours CST: Colleen

“I knew you’d show up soon,” Colonel Colleen Bruno said, and smiled. She ushered her subordinate Doctor Zachary Carson into her office and shut her door, for this was definitely a private conversation. They took seats, hers behind her desk, his in front of it. Her head with its cute blonde bob tilted slightly down at him today. She had a mischievous look in her deep blue eyes, as if she were seeing him in a whole new light.

“Congratulations, Zach!” Colleen cheered. Even though she, at 23, was a decade younger and eight inches shorter at 5’5”, she had a compelling, decisive presence that brooked no defiance. She had been a prodigy who graduated university at the age of 14 and was flying fighter jets by the time she was 18 years old. She had become a major at age 20, and now, she was an Air Force Colonel that had been chosen to command Mars Colony Mission One with everyone’s utter confidence. That was how good she was.

“Likewise, congratulations,” said Zach, “Though we knew it would be you leading the first mission.” Tall, angular, he crossed his legs, cocked his head with a bemused smile and looked back at her with his grayish blue eyes, running a hand nervously through his blond crew cut. He was dressed rather casually in a shirt and slacks compared to the colonel’s uniform.

“As you can imagine, three of our newly selected crewmates have already been to see me this morning,” Colleen said brightly. “I expect to see the last crewmate who’s on base, Ayana, before the end of the day, though I haven’t heard from her yet.”

“If you don’t, you should seek her out,” Zach said with some concern, folding his hands. “She may be especially uncomfortable since we’re such close colleagues. I know I am. I don’t want my friendships disrupted by this unprecedented situation.” Then he got to the point. “How did this happen?”

“What do you mean?” Colleen replied with a smirk. “Your clinical expertise will be critical if some disease crops up that nobody has ever seen once we land on Mars.” Zach was the world’s foremost expert in subtle forms of radiation poisoning, the leading danger faced by humans in their bid to settle the red planet. Mars had no magnetic field, so it was far more subject to cosmic rays at its surface than Earth was.

“You know what I mean,” Zach rejoined. “The final cut was 24 men and 18 women. How did we end up with eleven women in a crew of twelve?”

Colleen explained, “The selection factors were all equal until the process got down the list of desirable attributes to the interesting minor factor of faster population growth. All other more relevant factors being equally handled, the ability to personally pop out a baby rose in importance. I’m aware you lack that qualification, Zach, but I, for one, want to take you along anyway.” Again, there was that smile from her.

Colleen rose, walked around her desk, and stood over him, maybe a head taller than the much taller doctor, seated as he was. Unbidden, he noticed that the Colonel’s very scrumptious breasts he had professionally ignored since he had known her were at eye level. He quickly looked up into her face. She was giving him that mischievous look. It was disconcerting. She had gone from friendly and understanding but businesslike in every encounter he'd ever had with her to this look now. There was nothing inappropriate about just a look. He was going crazy. That must be it.

The young, radiant Colonel leaned over and put her hand on Zach’s shoulder. “You are a kind man, a caring man. Those are a few of the qualities that make you such a great doctor. If you don’t mind me saying, you’re one of the few men I’ve met where I’ve remarked to myself, ‘That man should be a father.’ I’m happy with our crew selection, including you.”

Colleen was leaning over him, leaning on his arm, and blushing. The verbal part was a fairly standard pep talk from his commanding officer other then the unusual subject, but that look of hers, jeez, and her looming proximity, not that he minded it, quite the opposite. “I’ve discussed you one-on-one with three of our crewmates, and it’s a universal sentiment so far, and I expect it to continue to be.”

“That’s flattering, of course,” Zach said. “I’m still concerned about our entire crew with potentially so many unhappy circumstances. The situation is far from ideal.”

Colleen put both of her hands on both of Zach’s shoulders, leaning closer. “All you need be concerned with, aside from your medical duties, is this: our crew and our new community will be happy and satisfied if you do everything in your power to assist our crewmates in fulfilling their intentions to create and nurture mentally and physically healthy families on our new home planet. Our crew, including you, is smart, capable, ambitious, and professional. Let me manage any jealousy or unhappiness that might arise among us.”

Zach thought a moment. What was Colleen, pardon, Colonel Bruno, trying to suggest? “Of course. That’s my job.”

“Don’t worry,” Colleen chuckled, eyes flashing, “I'm confident of both your and Ayana's medical skills. But may I be candid?”

“Certainly,” Zach allowed. Colleen leaned even closer, her hands sliding down to his forearms, a cat lining up on a mouse. He broke their close eye contact. Was he imagining this? She smelled wonderful. Even with the uniform, which he noticed was very well tailored. He looked back up into her eyes quickly.

Colleen lowered her voice. “For the four of us who have discussed it so far, and I expect for a balance of our crewmates, we'd rather have your babies, Zach, if it’s possible. We want our children to have a father, a real biological father, on their home planet. That has to be you. Believe me, most of us feel just as shy about that conclusion as you probably are." Colleen didn't look shy. "We're shy, and happy it's you, and happy that we can make plans for the future in earnest. At least I hope we can.”

Zach was a bit taken aback, but he was absolutely not going to read one iota more than was absolutely necessary into this. Wow, she smelled good. Maintaining her intense eye contact and quiet tone, he replied, "I'd be happy to raise children with any of you, with all of you, of course. It takes a village, as they say, and I've always wanted to be a father, biological or otherwise. I'm probably misunderstanding you, forgive me, did you have something more in mind than the obvious co-parenting? You said you four want them to be biologically mine? Well, I suppose I could donate-"

“No, Zach,” Colleen interrupted, “yours, naturally yours, yours in the old-fashioned way. Yours.”

"You mean be a natural surrogate,” clarified Zach.

“It's the relationship that matters in parenting, not the DNA,” said Colleen.

“You mean have a relationship,” Zach clarified.

“Yes,” said Colleen.

“With you?” asked Zach.

“With us,” said Colleen.

“With more than you?” Zach gulped.

“Look,” the stunning colonel sighed, straightening up and suddenly looking her usual determined self at him. “Are you really up for this? I have to have every confidence that our mission has the very highest chance of success, I'm sure you understand.”

“I assure you, colonel, I can get used to the idea of a relationship with some of you. No wait, I mean with as many of you that I suppose would prefer to do something like that. The old-fashioned way, you say? I assure you. I'm a man after all, hah! It shouldn't be hard work. I just need to get my head around it, get it real for myself, meet everyone, I guess.”

Colleen stepped around him and locked her office door. “That’s not good enough.”

Zach’s eyes widened a little. “All right… What assurances did you have in mind?”

The scrumptious young woman then sat on the front of her desk right in front of him, her deep blue eyes burning into him with that steamy look for a moment, her feet dangling, and then she looked down and started removing her flats and socks. “Make love to me, if you don’t mind," she said casually, not looking up. "Based on what I can see of your personal history, I'm satisfied that you're sexually attracted to a fairly wide variety of women. I trust there's nothing about me personally you find distasteful?”

"No, absolutely nothing ma'am,” Zach squeaked, and cleared his throat. Colleen was a lovely woman who was also his commanding officer. All he'd wanted up to this meeting was for her to be his commanding officer, because a man shouldn't wish for what he couldn't and shouldn't have. Of course he’d fantasized about her, but it had always been a complete fantasy up until this very moment.

She was of course professionally off limits due to her being his superior officer, but beyond that, she was a decade younger, among the smartest people in the world, quite a stunner, and had never shown the least glimmer of romantic or sexual interest in him. Of course she hadn't, though. She was an Air Force Colonel with immense self-discipline, and he was her subordinate. Even if she had been infatuated with him this whole time, he knew he would have never suspected.

Plus, he was not the best person in the world at picking up on subtle romantic or sexual cues, especially if they were coming from unlikely people. Women who wanted him generally had to metaphorically club him over the head and drag him away to their lairs. Luckily for Zach, there had always been a surplus of those. Saying "no" to a woman who wanted him was a big problem for the incurably romantic doctor.

“Isn’t there a regulation against this?” he managed to utter. What was he thinking? Was he trying to stop her?

“There is,” Colleen admitted, “until we leave Earth, at least, and then I’m solely in charge of the mission, and I will waive the regulation. Will you keep a secret until then? If you won’t, I don’t want to command this mission.”

Zach quietly and adamantly nodded yes. He might sometimes be clueless, but he was not a complete moron.

Colleen continued, “My problem is, I want a baby in my uterus for at least 18 weeks before launch. I have about a month remaining to accomplish that.” What his brilliant senior officer was referring to was the fact that the most radiation-soaked portion of their mission would be the voyage to Mars itself, and the most radiation danger to fetuses was in the first 18 weeks of gestation. Once they were on the planet’s surface, sufficient radiation shielding was not too heavy anymore, and fetuses were out of danger. That's why the mission plan called for them all to wait until then. And God forbid there was a solar flare during their six-month trip to Mars. If there was, there were “safe rooms” in their interplanetary vehicle that would shield them somewhat from the radiation burst, but not really.

When Zach's mind returned from considering the radiation danger the voyage posed to fetuses, he noticed that Colleen was sitting on her desk in front of him, dangling her bare feet, with an amused look on her face. She knew he was flustered. He imagined the look was intended to calm him. With that grin, she looked like a young hellion. She pressed her intercom and said, “Marion, hold my calls.” She continued to explain, “I suppose I could get a regulation-approved man to knock me up, but then my poor little guy or gal would grow up with only one parent, you understand.”

“I understand and sympathize with your predicament,” Zach offered shakily, still feeling awkward and embarrassed. His mind raced. Was there a downside to this, one worse than the upside, which was having this stunning young woman accept him as a what? Lover? Inseminator? Father of her child? Did he really seriously care which as long as he got a chance to be closer to her, even for a short while?

“Well?” Colleen pressed.

In response, Zach stood up. “Yes, wow, yes, I get your logic. I meant yes, absolutely I'm very attracted to you. Is this really what you want?” The incurable romantic in him was flustered, bypassed, to say the least.

“This is a real commitment on my part, Zach. This is not make believe,” she emphasized.

“Well okay, message received. Do you mind if I…?” he asked.

“Certainly not, go ahead,” Colleen quietly allowed in such a formal yet informal way. Her kisses were warm. This was all playing with Zach’s mind. The pragmatic physician knew that his determined commander was not above taking one for the team, and it would have been hard for him to make love to her, even at her specific request, had he felt as if she wasn’t that interested. But clearly by the passion of her kisses, she was switched on by this exchange so far, perhaps as much as he himself was. He hoped her interest was more than the thrill of doing something illicit with a subordinate in her office. Whatever it was, he was going for it. Oh brave new world, that held such pleasure in it.

Half an hour later, Zach buttoned his shirt the rest of the way and looked up to see Colleen straightening her uniform with a broad grin on her face. “I am so fucking reassured,” she gushed, looking up at him with an even more intimate look than before, a ravaged, infatuated look. Then she giggled like a high school girl, totally unlike her public persona, and added, “This is going to be great.” He'd never seen her so relaxed and happy.

“I’ve never been on a casting couch before,” ventured Zach.

“Well, get used to firsts," Colleen chortled, “and this will certainly be that. I just hope, doctor, that you won't soon tire of me given the cornucopia likely to soon be spread before you.”

Zach got serious. “I can't imagine I'd ever forget about you, ever forget this moment,” he breathed reverently, and then added a moment later, with a bit more levity, “colonel, ma’am.”

“What do you think will be hardest for you?” Colleen asked. “We should discuss it.”

“Nothing, really, probably. I’m not saying it’s going to be easy on me. I might feel guilty," Zach ventured. Like he did right now, having just broken a dozen Air Force regulations by making love to his commanding officer. He was transfixed by that look of hers, that smile of hers, all of her. He blurted, "I want to stay like this forever, right here with you. That might be a problem.” He wanted to keep her this close.

Colleen smiled a little gleefully at his answer. “I’ll have your back always, even if I know I’ll probably have to share your other attributes,” she chuckled. “We’ll make it work for everybody, okay?”

“Okay.” Whatever Colleen's intention, he would be hers to command for the chance of being with her, of feeling this more.

Colleen asserted a bit of her command presence and declared, “Next time, I want you to take me in a real bed, for fuck's sake, and I want us to keep each other up all night. I want you to make me forget I’m in charge of all this. I want you to make me your slave for an evening. I want you to kill me with your lovemaking. I think you might be able to.”

“It’s a date,” answered Zach, inspired. “Let’s not stop. I don't want to let you go. Let's start right now.”

“Unfortunately," Colleen sighed, "we both have business to attend to.” She sat back down at her desk. They both smiled at each other, the colonel’s deep blue eyes flashing mischievously. She hid his soiled t-shirt away in her attaché case, clicked it shut, and spun the combinations.

Zach backed towards the door and then stopped. “Can I kiss you before I go?” he asked.

Colleen answered without hesitation, “Lieutenant, please do, in private. This is a new closeness, a real closeness, in our relationship. You must keep an open heart, though, clear?”

“Yes, of course,” Zach promised, because it was what Colleen wanted, and he swept towards her, held her gently, and then with increasing passion and tongue, he kissed her. She was responsive, and he dared dream she was interested in more from him than getting a baby and their other crewmates getting theirs. He broke the kiss and looked at her closely and enjoyed the look of relaxation and satisfaction in her deep blue eyes as she gazed back at him, another new look for her. He already wanted to re-enact this meeting from the top. But he was out of t-shirts. And he shouldn't press his luck. “Of course,” he repeated, then reluctantly turned from her and left her office.

(To be continued)

This is the rough draft of Ch. 20 (last chapter) of:

Mary Jones and the Forbidden Staircase: 98 pages, 38,552 words
Book Two of the Mary Jones Girl Detective Series.
Mary Jones, girl detective, chases ghosts but keeps finding men instead. And women. And arcane instruments of pleasure designed by Michelangelo.

-----


Chapter Twenty: Mary’s Absolution


Mary Jones sat in a confessional booth. Her hair was cropped even shorter than usual due to the torments of the Forbidden Staircase, but otherwise she was unscathed by her recent adventure, except perhaps morally. Confession was one of three reasons for this church visit. She said, “Bless me father, for I have sinned.”

Father McDonald, their local priest, sat in the other side of the booth. “Tell me about your sins, child,” he asked with interest. “But before that, I want to thank you for coming to address our young men’s meeting and enrolling them all in visiting and helping to take care of your friend Grandma Petra. It’s a great work of charity that I’m sure will be helpful to Grandma Petra and will educate and open the hearts of our young men as well.” This had been the second reason for Mary’s visit.

“Knowing Grandma Petra, I’m quite certain you’re right about this, father.” Mary agreed, then began her story. “Well, father, it all started when a man came to our door a while back to threaten my father. He began to rape our housekeeper, Margaret. I intervened and had him rape me instead. He didn’t finish in me, though. I kicked him out first.”

“Child, what a horrific experience for you to bear on your young body, and for your housekeeper as well. I would say you did the work of God in protecting your servant from this scourge of a man. Surely, this is not a sin, but a blessing. You’re absolved. I hope this terrible man will receive just punishment.”

“Oh he is, father,” said Mary, “twenty to life. But that’s not the sin I’m talking about. Then, my friend Imogene and her Aunt Selene came over with a new mystery for me to solve. They were desperate, father, and fearing they were being tormented by ghosts. To solve the mystery, I had to hypnotize them, with their consent, of course, and have them take off all their clothing. I could see from the condition of their privates that they were being tormented by real live men.”

“I admit your method was unorthodox, but effective,” Father McDonald judged. “Doctors examine victims of sexual abuse all the time, why not detectives? God can forgive this.”

“That’s not the sin. Then my father arrived home and saw the naked bodies of these women in our parlor. Then, to prove to myself that my friend Immy was actually experienced and not a virgin as she asserted, I had her perform oral sex, while still under hypnosis mind you, on my father.”

“That’s questionable,” remarked Father McDonald. “Ten hail Marys.”

“Gladly, but that’s not the sin, father. After that, I met with Sheriff Barton again and sucked him off under the table of a booth in the back of Wilson’s Diner.”

“Now Mary, we’ve talked about your dalliances with Sheriff Barton before,” scolded Father McDonald. “You must resist the sins of the flesh even though you never intend to marry because of your career. Given your choice to remain single, you must abstain from sex to be virtuous.”

“But I’ve been thinking about this, father,” said Mary. “It seems to me that denying one’s sexual urges, given you’re being helpful and not hurtful in your sexual acts, is denying your God-given humanity, denying the organs of pleasure God has clearly given every one of us. Sex literally gives us all life, both from the joy it gives us and the babies it gives us time to time. A rational and educated man like you can’t deny that this incontrovertible fact is written by God in the very structure of each of our bodies, the pleasure our bodies give us, and the critical role sex is designed to play in our very existence.”

Father McDonald stammered, “Well, Mary, I’m sure there is some merit in your argument, but-“

Mary continued, “Also, it seems to me that the church’s motives regarding sex are highly questionable. If sex and therefore pleasure is key, then women are also key, since we are by design the crux of pleasure and life as we bear the children that create us all. This directly contradicts the patriarchal teachings of the church. No wonder the church wants us to deny pleasure, and indeed by doing so, life itself. Facts, if they are available, must hold over conjecture, however traditional, and especially self-serving conjecture, don’t you agree father?”

”I can’t fault your reasoning at first glance, Mary,” said the thoughtful cleric. “Let me think on this. Clearly nobody is being hurt by your interactions with Sheriff Barton for the time being, so why don’t we revisit this subject once I’ve had a chance to think more about your argument.”

“Thank you, father. But I do want to correct you there. After both Edna and myself performed oral sex on the sheriff and on each other and both fucked the sheriff, we all met up later, and the sheriff handcuffed Edna and me to tables and whipped us and teased us to countless orgasms. It hurt so good, but we were definitely hurt, though not permanently.”

“Since it was part of a pleasurable experience,” reasoned Father McDowell, “I suppose we can set it aside along with the whole thing about you and Sheriff Barton.”

“Fair enough, but that wasn’t the sin I was talking about anyway.  To further investigate the case, I performed oral sex on both my friend Imogene and her Aunt Selene.”

“Well as long as they are single women and it was all consensual, we can put it in the Barton column for now,” reasoned the priest.

“Well, Selene was reluctant, but in the end, she asked me to pleasure her the rest of the way to orgasm, so that counts for something.”

“Okay,” said Father McDowell, “One hail Mary for now, Just for the reluctance part.”

“Gladly accepted, father,” said Mary, “but that’s still not the sin I’m talking about. From there I took Imogene to a hallway with holes into a gentlemen’s restroom in a pub in Xylophone. There the two of us took on countless men through the aforementioned holes with our mouths, my cunt, and Imogene’s asshole. Some of the men, I’m sure, were married. Some of the men were undoubtedly Protestants or even Jewish.”

“Since under the circumstances you could clearly not discriminate between married and unmarried men, one hail Mary. As for the religious affiliations of the men, our country is founded on freedom of religion, and no loyal citizen of our great nation should ever discriminate on that basis, no matter what the Pope says,” reasoned the priest.

“That’s still not the sin I am getting to,” said Mary. “Then we met a very nice deaf and dumb boy from the circus and used my knowledge of sign language to communicate with him and lend him aid.”

“I don’t understand, Mary,” said Father McDonald. “That’s a kind and generous act.”

“Then we all fucked him.”

“Oh Mary,” said the priest, doing a face palm. “Barton column.”

“But that’s not the sin!” said Mary immediately.

“Why am I not surprised?” grimaced the clergyman.

“Then I met a nice sheriff’s deputy Barton sent to guard the place,” said Mary.

“And had sex with him,” filled in the priest.

“Only a blowjob, father,” Mary corrected.

“Well, that’s something.”

“Until later, that is,” said Mary.

Father McDonald sighed. “Barton column. But that’s not the sin, I bet. Well, get to it,” the father said impatiently.

“And then we threw a giant party that turned into an all-night orgy, and I fucked over a dozen men, some of whom I knew to be married,” Mary recounted.

“One hail Mary for each married man,” said the father. “Although the sin is mostly theirs, you bear some responsibility to respect the sanctity of marriage.”

“One of the unmarried men was my father,” Mary confessed.

‘Whoa,” said Father McDonald.

“Exactly. And THAT’S the sin,” said Mary. “Except I didn’t know at first because he entered me from behind. I only found out when I turned around.”

“Well, then, it was merely accidental child,” the father sighed in relief. “One hail Mary for offering yourself to unknown men, though. That can’t be right. The rest is Barton column.”

“But then I let him continue after I knew, because all the most powerful men in the state were watching us and openly masturbating, and I feared for his career if we were exposed,” admitted Mary.

“That’s more serious, child,” the priest insisted.

“And I want to do it again,” said Mary.

“Child, this simply can’t be moral in any world view,” Father McDonald argued.

“What would it take to convince you otherwise?” asked Mary.

An hour later, in Father McDonald’s private quarters, Mary rose from his bed, leaving a gently snoring and very sexually satisfied Father McDowell to rest. He had done okay for not having had sex since he became a priest twenty years ago, the poor man. He had been very enthusiastic, which Mary liked better than anything. She had made him go twice since he didn’t last very long the first time. This initially mystified him, but he quickly rallied when she demonstrated her oral skills. Hopefully, Mary could arrange to work off her penance under him frequently.

Now for her third reason for visiting church. She sat down at Father McDowell's desk, pulled out a sheet of church letterhead, and began writing.

“Dear James and Margaret,”

“Since that evening, I have thought and dreamed constantly of our time together. I dreamed of you, James, instinctively knowing how to bring me to the heights of pleasure over and over, and how you, Margaret, brought me to even higher heights in ways I had never for a moment considered and which still, at this writing, make me blush.”

“Please understand my need to protect my identity so that I can continue my good works for the sake of the community we all love. As you asked me to arrange, I will arrive at your doorstep in disguise at exactly eight o’clock on this coming Tuesday evening. I’m hoping we will be able to spend an enjoyable evening together.”

“Much Love,”


“ ‘Mary’ (not my real name)”


(The end)

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That's a little Portal humor. Aperture Science: We do what we must because we can.

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