Title: BINARY

Author: R.Schultz ( cousindream@aol.com )

Series: VOYAGER (AU)

Pairing Code: Captain Annika Hansen/Torres

Rating: NC-17

Spoilers: Alternative Universe, and a sequel to my "Bias" story.

Summary: Captain Annika Hansen of VOYAGER is far, far away in the Delta Quadrant, and has just lucked out.

Disclaimer: Trek-universe belongs to ViaBorgCom. I'm not making money. This fic is mine under common-law copyright, November, 2001, 11,100 words long.

Warning: This is TrekSmut and no one underage, or whose country or locale legally declares smut a nasty thing. may read this.

Posted to the FFF group, and later to the ASCEM. May be archived, but please notify.

Comments to: cousindream@aol.com

NOTE: This story is a sequel to my own "Bias". It is posted to the Round IV of the FFF, but is ineligible for any Silver Labia Awards due to the fact that it is posted late for our deadline.

BINARY

by R. Schultz

BIRTHDAY SUITS

The Holodeck Guide of Kah'Less, a holodeck projection of course, having given his final benediction, or growl, I was bound now to help seal my match. A tiny pocket on my breast held my medical-grade scalpel, B'Elanna Torres' breast pocket held hers.

Weeks ago we had held our more important and private pact. We had done so by uttering what sounded like a few Klingon swear words. They were pledges to kill whoever kills me, and biting each other. Actually B'Elanna had said the words of claiming and me the words of acceptance. Then we got each other sexually whipped up, which wasn't hard to do. We were also more than a little bit whooped on two bottles of a lightly sour-sweet pop-skull wine, acquired a few systems back.

Interesting situation, at least in retrospect. I could understand "Dracula" better afterwards. B'Elanna working me gently with a few intruding fingers, and licking a wound she'd just made in the base of my throat. With her teeth.

Oddly erotic. Made me glad I'd allowed B'Elanna full rites. I knew now that the blood exchange part of the Klingon bonding was not just a male testosterone Klingon thing.

I'll admit it hurt, very much so, very sharp. Yet her licking did partially relieve the pain. I had then injected myself with a multi-Spectrum re-builder and a painkiller (kindly supplied by the EMH who knew damned well what the both of the shots were for).

After that I could relax and enjoy B'Elanna's always devoted attentions. I used one of the EMH's small molecule-thin edge knives on B'Elanna, she having agreed it was okay if a knife was used rather than teeth. Fortunately she wasn't orthodox.

Now we were supposed to nip -- or carve -- a little more blood for the Klingon type of marriage vows.

I felt heady just then, but managed to keep my feet.

I'm married. Me. I did it. I'm committed for the rest of my life. I'm hitched. The fact that I was now legally married according to the laws and customs of the United Federation of Planets to another woman did not mitigate any of my reactions.

This was the big one. Barring this blood exchange I was married.

I was amazed to see B'Elanna blink and sway before my own woozy eyes. She too was getting hit by the last minute woozies and shakiness. It was so romantic, I guess.

We were both getting last-minute marriage jitters.

Quickly I pulled out the little knife and slashed a few millimeters deep cut in my half-Klingon's throat. I didn't even feel any pull or resistance as a sudden runnel of light red appeared on her throat. I bent forward to kiss, and from that I took more than a few licks.

The blood tasted terrible, but I now knew the erotic power of licking her life's blood before an audience of God, and a large portion of my ship's crew.

Then B'Elanna had suddenly cut me, sending me into ecstatic quivers as I felt her nuzzle my neck and wound. I felt like fainting, and I'm not entirely sure why, because it felt good for her to taste my hot blood. I could feel the cooling trail of hot as blood leaked down into my wedding dress.

No decision had been reached yet as to whether I'll save the wedding dress with or without the bloodstains. Right now I was saying yes to the bloodstain.

The EMH shot each of us with meds for our wounds. The bleeding stopped and we pretended we were highly honored to wear marriage smears over our white dresses. Personally I felt like going to the dumper and eject everything I'd eaten the past few hours. Which was almost nothing, but my stomach was complaining anyways.

Then everyone who came to the Wedding was urging us to run the gauntlet of hand-thrown multi-colored rice. We ran down to the Holodeck Door. B'Elanna had thrown that particular custom out of our wedding plans at first, but foolish me had insisted on it. If the Norwegian Naturalist (Nudist) Lutheran Church did it, it had to be done that way for me. Stupid me. I hadn't thought I'd be this sick from the whole thing.

Upon reaching the corridor I called for a site-to-site for me and B'Elanna to our -- previously my -- cabin. I called for us both to appear in the dumper part of the ensuite. I barely beat B'Elanna to the white throne. She used the sink.

Afterwards the dress came off, draped over our night-stand (formerly B'Elanna's), and in my fancy green silk under's (gift of B'Elanna) I collapsed on the bed. While B'Elanna carefully cleaned the sink -- what a doll of a wife! -- I got up and opened a few containers of light-colored beer for us both.

When B'Elanna came out she thankfully grabbed her cold beer from my hand. Her peach silk unders were my present. She spent some minutes enjoying the faintly licorice-flavored beer, a bounty we'd gotten from one of the systems more willing to trade than shoot. Cleans the mouth out astonishingly well, beer does. About that time we got to nuzzling each other, interrupting tastes of beer with tastes of each other.

After that we took a shower together, getting the sheen of vomit-exertion off each other. After getting dry we tumbled into our bed, kissing and smiling, masturbating each other, kissing some more, enjoying each others nipples, climaxing together and being relaxed and probably ready for another shower.

Happy Wedding Day. Time to arrive at our wedding reception.

Out of the shower again, we firmly clasped each other's hands. Our nipples were spiking, and our breathing patterns unsteady. Time to face our fellow crew-persons. In the altogether. Excepting our communicators on thin necklaces about our throat's.

We'd said the reception was naturalistic, and it was time for us to fetch up. B'Elanna inched closer to me, and I called for site to site. The computer said it'd be twelve minutes. Everyone else who was coming to the reception was coming nude. They were all doing a site-to-site, rather than marching through the corridors. I wondered how many would think of wearing a robe down to Holodeck One and disposing of it there?

"Captain's override," I said to the computer, reciting my code to it. Suddenly we were on Holodeck One. Naked, shaking, but there.

Without a doubt we were the star attraction, for everyone turned to greet us, clapping loudly. As requested, everyone here was as naked as we were.

For the comfort of our male guests there were plenty of linened tables for the food. And they were high tables, so the males could belly-up at belly-high tables and stay there until they weren't reacting quite so firmly to the sight of everyone else nekkid.

I was regretting the nudist reception, but I'd shot my mouth off about it months ago. I'm a Naturalist, Nudist, back in Norway and I'm not ashamed of it, blah, blah, blah.

Big drawback was that I hadn't been much of a Naturalist for a dozen years, and I'd forgotten how much of a shock it could be to an unprepared individual. So much for my Captain's rectitude.

Drawing strength from B'Elanna I quickly stood shoulder to shoulder with my new wife. She seemed to be having multi-tonne's of fun, unruffled, sure of herself, totally unfazed by the Nudist experience.

Excepting for the fact that her nipples were pebbles on top of the biggest, darkest and hardest aureole's I'd ever seen occur on her breasts. I immediately felt better, because my very hard and hurting auerole were mostly hidden in my big breasts.

Which reminded me of a few things which made me feel immediately better. B'Elanna took that instant to snuggle between my breasts then, which helped me feel warm and complete and loved and that little bit closer to climaxing at the same time.

"Are we still the sexiest pair on the ship?", I asked her in a conspiratorial tone of voice.

"And none of it is courtesy of the good EMH," she whispered back. When you got right down to it we were both a real pair of catty bitches. We just didn't share any of our catty and thereby hurt anybody.

I guess when you got right down to it, I wanted to flaunt my hard young body, and my wife's. Look at us, people. All that top-drawer woman and you ain't never going to get any. Nyah! Nyah! Nyah!

Well, maybe I sagged more than I had realized, and my butt had spread a few more points than I had expected, but I was still in my prime. B'Elanna said HER butt was two and a half ax handles across now, and she thought it hilarious that they had the same phrase in Norway, only in Norwegian, of course. Her ass was big like she was Sarek of Vulcan.

Personally I couldn't think of an ass that looked better than B'Elanna's. And she said that about mine. Damned near a quarter century of dance training, I'd BETTER have a great ass at the end of it, not to mention legs.

I'm not sure if it's depressing or comforting that females take better care of their bodies than males do. Generally speaking.

We both envied either Delaney sister. Firm uplifting breasts, slim figures, muscular bellies, soft hard ass. We wondered how much of it was due to the EMH and his magic scalpel.

The males presented an odd mix of masculine allure. And other things. Them I was more sure of.

About the very next day after I'd announced that our up-coming nuptials would include a genteel nudist reception afterwards, I noticed a 500% increase in use of the gym. Wonderful, I thought. Everyone's getting more fit. When the gym use slacked off, Ship's Computer informed me many had acquired varied equipment in their cabin's, for private use. Wonderful, I thought.

Then.... One secret I never intended to share with B'Elanna was the conversation I'd had with the EMH when he'd asked my advice.

"HOW MUCH???", I screamed.

"937 Kilos, 6 Grammes," he stated.

"And all of this is from .... lipo-suction, you call it?"

"An old term to describe what is now a simple non-intrusive non-surgical technique for removing human blubber. Lipo-suction is but one type of procedure of more than a hundred and fifty cosmetic surgery techniques I have been using extensively in the past 30 days," The HoloDoc said.

He was quite right to have retained the material, considering how often we kept having to revert to a rationing economy onboard. I wondered if all this time since rationing protocols the Doctor had... I will not morbidly dwell on this, I swore to myself.

But a little green voice of suspicion crept into this discussion.

"You said thirty days," I softly asked. "How much before that, say in the thirty ... no, make that sixty days previous?"

"804 kilos, ten Grammies," he cheerfully stated.

I'd just wanted a nice white-dress wedding, and a fun reception afterward. Something unique, something for everyone to remember afterward, without the experience of a drunken uncle getting hammered, or the nine-year-old catching the flower bouquet.

I'd thought a friendly nudist reception would do that.

Of course, I thought in retrospect. All these crew-people with no past experience in living socially in a nudist get together. They were all trying to attain a physical IDEAL to flaunt at my reception.

When talking to the EMH my thoughts whirled inside my fevered head for a few seconds. "Might I ask what you've done with that amount of human fat, Doctor?", I asked.

"Most of it is still in stasis storage in the Biometrics bay," the EMH replied. "Barring the introduction of 442 Kilos into Replicator usage, yes."

"Replicator usage?"

"Yes, it IS fat after all," he said. "A valuable by-product which has been gleefully used by a rationed replicator system."

Suddenly I had a horrible, horrible , HORRIBLE vision of how the ship's replicators had been utilizing all that body fat.

There had been Tuesday's meat-loaf, and I remembered how proud I had been that B'Elanna was pushing herself to widen her ability horizon's. It had tasted delicious.

Then there had been last Sunday's stew in Neelix's galley, out of the Replicators there. It had been swimming in fat, it had tasted delicious.

"And those grilled antelope ribs B'Elanna and I had for a quiet evening at home, off the replicator. Dripping with fat, all quite delicious.

I wasn't ever, ever, EVER going to be able to leak information of this to B'Elanna and the rest of the crew.

"Pardon me, Doctor, but do you have something in which I might safely eject the proof of a badly distressed stomach?" He suddenly handed me a squarish waste container box with a plastic bag in it.

I grabbed it carefully, stuck my head in it and proceeded to lose my breakfast. The HoloDoc gave me a glass of water, I drank that carefully, then lost it as well.

In twelve minutes I was stable. The EMH had given me some meds, and I was sure I was going to interrupt my morning with a visit home for new clothes and a cleaning up.

All that delicious FATTY meat out of the Replicators.....

Think, think, think.

"Doctor," I asked in a neutral voice, "All of this -- material, is molecules and atoms, correct?" He nodded his head. "Would it be possible to feed (bad, BAD way of expressing it) all this material into the ship's storage as molecular material ONLY?"

To his nod, I asked; "Could all this be saved as atoms-only?"

He said yes, so I told him to save this valuable specialized material in the form of atoms only. In the future these atoms would be used to make clothes, plastic piping, illumination racks, carpet in the corridors -- and food, but only as component atoms.

After that I had the Doc eliminate his memories of the abundance of body fat we'd been blessed with. He also had a new subroutine for eliminating body surgery snippets.

I took a site-to-site to my almost-married abode and took a soak in our -- B'Elanna's gorgeous marble bathtub. It had taken an interesting site-to-site transporter routine, but that green marble luxury sat in my -- our -- cabin now. I'd told B'Elanna it was worth getting married just to inherit her gold-plated bathtub.

All I'd wanted was a nice wedding and a pleasant reception before B'Elanna and I had our BADLY needed Honeymoon. On a local little near-virgin planet. It belonged to a local small star faring race that let us do some extensive minerals mining in a high-mountains sub-continent in the Arctic's region.

Lots of dilithium and other goodies, but in low-yield ore throughout. For once we had the time and peace to get what we needed, without the star-ship race attacking us. The rest of the planet we could use for a vacation spot. Pre-civilization animal group, very high on the evolution scale without being really an intelligent society yet.

We promised them we'd be careful not to corrupt or warp any of their animals.

On the part of VOYAGER command while B'Elanna and I had our honeymoon, we had an iron-clad promise. VOYAGER swore that if we hit a strange space-time anomaly, VOYAGER would strand us forever before they'd break into our honeymoon.

I'd just wanted a nice white-dress marriage to my adorable babe and a gleeful reception afterwards. And actually, I wouldn't have cared a damn if the ship-borne edition of an Uncle George had shown up, gotten drunk, and then collapsed on the floor after a wild dance.

My expectations kept lowering.

For a few seconds I ducked my head under the bath water, blocking out this evil universe. My knees still stuck their awkward knobs out of the fuzzy bubbled water. The universe still intruded.

I'd never, never, never, ever be able to share this with B'Elanna. I wish I could, she'd be able to write a better wipe on the EMH's memory.

On second thought, Marriage is a place where you share unpleasant moments as well as nice ones.

B'Elanna was not a happy recipient of the body fat information. But she then realized why we had that little conversation alongside the white throne. Afterwards, she went site-to-site to the SickBay for vomiting medicine. Tom Paris was there and asked if my Lt. Torres was suffering from pregnancy Morning Sickness.

Such a wonderful jewel B'Elanna was! Paris was allowed to leave SickBay alive, with all of him still in the same order and place as he had when he entered SickBay.

B'Elanna said I did a crappy memory erasure and rewrite, but she fixed it. Anyone short of Seven of Nine, Kathryn Janeway, or herself, she said, would never notice the memory splice.

I had just wanted a nice wedding day. A wedding with lots of frills and white lace and smiles and my baby fondling my big ass when no one could see. Cutting a too-sweet cake. Having a few flutes of champagne. Dancing with my doll. She was learning to dance. She was also developing a real thing about my backside. I should complain maybe?

I'd wanted a sweet reception where everyone had lots of food, fun, a nudist experience and not too much wine or beer. Was that too much to ask? The Law of Unintended Consequences, Murphy's Law, had just delivered a good one, that was all. 937 Kilograms and six Grammes instead I get.

That awful night I gave B'Elanna a nice bubble bath and cuddled her until she was purring in her sleep, relaxing under the covers with me. When she awoke we had a period of slow loving. We both deserved that.

We had Veggie dinners for weeks afterward.

Now, I was chewing on one of those little hard spicy Klingon tarq biscuits I loved, and to hell with how many Grammes of fat was used in cooking them. B'Elanna had a Bolian Lobster half partially dissected, coaxing the long tail meat out. Very low fat food.

Neither one of us was ever going to be able to share our little secret. And the EMH had happily forgot he'd ever done anything with his spare snippets besides reducing them to atoms before being taken up by Replicator storage.

In the present, standing alongside B'Elanna I was admiring the crew-members of my ship in their natural state.

Harry Kim looked better than I would have expected. I purposely did not let thoughts of 937 Kilograms enter my mind. He looked scrumptious.

"Good enough to eat, isn't he?", B'Elanna said with a smile. I think she just punned me. After a second I turned to my doll and stared a question at her.

"Thrice, but that's it," B'Elanna noted. "He believed in using 'Hard', so it really got to be a lot of fun. He was another one who loved it when I kept putting him in my mouth. But it was years ago." Suddenly she shot a deep look at me, understanding flooding her eyes.

"He was a good lover, for all his over-eagerness, and he displayed a lot of charm. He liked to touch a lot, I liked that, and he had an abundance of kindness," she said. "Is that what you wanted to know?" I nodded my head in a yes. B'Elanna touched my arm in a caress.

In the present, both B'Elanna and I were trying not to look at our Talaxian caterer. Do all females have dirty minds? I speculated; "I think I can imagine one of the charms of Neelix," I said.

"Yes," B'Elanna sotto-voiced. "He is a bit extraordinary, isn't it? Kes must have had more fun with Neelix than I had thought she did.

"But, seeing the attention each of the Delaney sisters were paying him right now, I'd think he's already acquired a pair of new admirers," she giggled.

"Precious jewel of mine," I asked B'Elanna, "what are a pair of us lesbians doing comparing male attributes?"

"Habit," she said. "All our lives we've spent in comparing men on one level on another. We can hardly stop now. It's become fun. And it's fitting revenge, considering how males have always compared us to some skeletal wonder-girl."

Carefully looking around, trying not to notice the men's continuing reaction to all the naked female flesh. All those classical Greek God and Goddess bodies. 937 Kilos.

Samantha Wildman and Naomi were not perfect, but she had a lovely sang-froid about it all. She and Naomi were eating their way across the room, enjoying sampling everything on the tables. While everyone else was obviously dying to gorge.

If Nicoletti doesn't watch it, she's going to eat one of those meaty Klingon Pizza's all by herself.

*Sigh* Samantha and Naomi felt they had no image to uphold.

Our Wedding cake was chocolate with masses of sweet cream icing all over it. On order of my resident half-Klingon.

It felt good to hold my wife and absent-mindedly turn into a few meaningless dance steps. My breasts weighing on hers, my hands pulling her in as the music played. B'Elanna allowed her hands to roam, just barely shy of being an obscene display.

An obscene display would be nice. But totally improper.

B'Elanna chuckled and I quickly looked another question at her. "Nicoletti gave my butt-cheeks a nice fondle not ten minutes ago. She asked about our honeymoon down on-planet, and said she'd like to drop by some time, if that'd be acceptable.

"She likes girls?", I asked. "This is the first I heard about it."

"Probably a bit Bi, and right now very enamored of our sexy bod's." she said. "I turned her down, we're married, etc. But in a nice "thank you" way," B'Elanna murmured, "I gave her a nice kiss in a corner, and a nice ass fondle between friends. I let her fingers dance in my groin hair when we were behind the dumpers. I think she's already had some wine."

She softly sighed, looking while the Nicoletti smile made erotic contact with big Chell, our resident Bolian. "All those years together with her in Engineering and she never once let me know she could enjoy girls, OR me."

"Life is not fair," I said. So we had a nice kiss and body rub, trying to pretend we didn't realize most of the people here had mini-mini-camera's hidden in their personal jewelry.

"We have the flowers and garter's to finish," B'Elanna said while licking my ear. I nodded in acceptance.

"And how many glasses of champagne have you had?" my half-Klingon questioned.

"I've had three glasses of wine, Champagne included," I sniffed.

"Five, I counted," she said. "But I'm glad to see you relaxing. I've kneaded your neck or shoulders for years, and I'm delighted to say tonight you've been able to ignore all your troubles and just let yourself relax.

"Lieutenant Commander, Captain Annika Hansen, and gorgeous wife, once I get you home tonight," B'Elanna warned, "and then down to our camp site, I'm going to screw you blind twenty times, pour you into your sleeping bag and not disturb you again for two days and a night."

Not very grammatical, but I followed her line of thought.

Ensign Maria Gilmore, the little blond we had accepted from the EQUINOX, was eating well. She was a naturally skinny person I figured. She was also hot on Tuvok. There, she did something, I can guess what, when she passed in front of him. After a second or so she moved away, and I had the experience of watching Tuvok literally stare at his own long erection until it got soft. Mind control again.

Now that everyone -- including me -- was adjusting to the nudity about us, it was making me feel more at ease myself. B'Elanna had thought the entire concept of a nude wedding reception a total rip from the second I proposed it. Bless her. Her nipples were just a mere bit erect by now, and mine didn't hurt anymore.

I had a FOURTH small glass of wine, and that didn't hurt either.

When the hell had I last relaxed? Outside of my babe's caring arms, I mean? This was an evening everyone here was going to remember, and if they saw me down a few wine's, and get a little hammered, and erotic with my doll, that was my right.

Neelix took his cue and called for quiet. B'Elanna and I retired to the table where our garters and flowers lay. We got our blue pastel lace garters on, ignoring the sub-vocal murmur of all those 'hidden' camera's. We smiled for the twenty-five or so camera's openly brought to the reception. I was tempted to bring those people and their camera's to a hidden corner and give them some REAL footage to take home. B'Elanna would have given them a show, also. There's a lot of exhibitionist in my B'Elanna. And me.

B'Elanna and I turned to face the mostly male audience, their camera's in hand, standing back of our table. We kissed, before bracing ourselves with our wedding bouquets. I looked down at it, tracing the paper lace all over it for the last time. Goodbye bouquet. I brought it down to my groin and threw it up and over behind me.

Whooping, yells, squeals, the bouquet sailed (I hoped) not too far or too high, just enough so that someone caught it. Great fun.

Including when the Bride (me) fell over on her ass. Almost. Fortunately I didn't wind up with my (perfect) ass and (perfect) legs high in the air, and obscenely spread wide open.

I guess it was more like six glasses of wine after all.

It's my fault. This sort of thing happens a lot at your usual naturalist (nudist) fest back in Stavenger or Sola or even Oslo.

I had just never thought of myself as being the Uncle George who over imbibes and winds up as a Vid joke.

Fortunately, in reality, I didn't do much worse than sweep my feet under myself in a familiar and practiced Dance move. Coming back on my feet and rising with my hands balanced in an extended barrel of air. I've seen a few of the 3D's of my accident, and I hate it. Naomi considers it to have been quite graceful and beautiful. I consider it un-graceful and nearly obscene. My Dance instructors from my youth would have berated me and called me clumsy.

Clumsy is not good.

Weeks later Naomi showed me some of her 3D VidPhoto's and I allowed as how I didn't look so bad to an unpracticed eye. It could have been worse. Much, much worse. Imagine me naked, my spread legs in the air and all of Annika Hansen spread out for every cam in the room. And Tom Paris was right there in front. I don't think he realizes what a thin edge he sometimes lives on.

I can recall my Aunt Morgan taking me to Edinburg one summer and how she told me about decorum and genteel manners beforehand. Keep my legs crossed and my dress down over my knee's. Don't expose yourself amongst all those barbarians in Scotland.

If I'd fallen on my ass and spread for the photographers, it would have been a year (maybe three) before I could create another Force Four Command Persona Captain's mask of Control that worked.

Oh well, it all turned out well. B'Elanna had thought me far too stiff, off-putting. Lighten up, she'd say. Relax. You're surrounded by friends, even if they're fellow crew-persons and you're the Captain.

For the garter ceremony B'Elanna kept me upright, and took off my garter and threw it to the men. Then she took off her own garter and threw it to the men, over the table.

At that instant, our part in the reception was over. We received another round of congratulations from everyone. This time I noticed a few of the males kept their erections and just let them flaunt out there in front of happenstance and me and God and everyone. At last, I thought, they were finally getting into the naturalist experience. An erection was just something that happened, end of story.

B'Elanna called site-to-site, and the next thing I know I was sitting on the ensuite carpeting while Sweet B'Elanna drew a bath for both of us in that lovely decadent green marble gold-plated luxury of her's. She joined me in the other end and we both floated with only our chins out of the water. We played with ourselves for a time, then we exited the fuzzy water. A little towel work, got our hair dry, tumbled into bed to make love.

It was a lover's lust, low-key and unhurried. It was perfect.

B'Elanna rubbed herself on me, she bit my ears and touched her tongue to my cut of marriage. Then she presented herself to me to lick, in turn. In a second I was on my hands and knee's.

My eyes closed in slow languor, B'Elanna kissed and bit and licked, and my ass felt inflamed as my cheeks were deliberately bitten a dozen, two dozen times. It felt sooooo good when my wife finally touched tongue to my wet, wet, wet vagina from behind.

It felt so soft and careful and so gentle and my stomach kept quivering. I had to sneak two fingers down for a masturbation of my clit to coincide with her vagina-lapping.

That felt so lovely, something worthy of our marriage night. She would probe me, fuck me with the tip of her tongue. Then she would circle my hole with her lovely tongue. She would lick me up and down my crack, each rutting in my sex heating me more, letting waves of pleasure ride up and down my belly.

I laid my head down so that I could see her loving mouth working on my puffy flesh. Each lick produced my fluid, each flow of my woman-juice made me sloppier and wetter and closer to when I came, when I shot. The sight of that chin working, the feel of her tongue in my crack, biting and sucking on my red puffy woman-lips, it was all too, too much. I wished I could put my knees to my ears, I felt each lick, each bite wound me tighter and tighter. Then I felt the need to sit and squat and come, and I was unable to do that because my groin was flaming too hot and I had to rock up and down in my groin while....

while.... it just got better...

and better.... and my eyes went blind... and B'Elanna

stuck two fingers in me

and it was so wonderful and I screamed and I was so very fucked by my lover's fingers

I came .... and came ... and I fell forward ....

... and screamed and she continued to fuck me and I continued to come for my sweet doll beautiful wife lover bitch, and it felt so good until I couldn't scream any more. Her lips kissed my buttcheeks and her tongue laved my sore vagina and I loved her mouth on me, enjoying me, worshipping me.

I rolled over on my back and allowed her to kiss and lick my clit. I came again for her, not so hard this time, less painful, more soothing.

After ten minutes of barely-felt soothing kissing and licking, B'Elanna climbed my body for more soft kissing. She is such an exceptional kisser, always seeming to know when to be passionate and hard, or soft and barely touching.

B'Elanna loved it when I screamed.

She sucked my nipples until they began to soften, there, inside my breasts weight. Then she was kissing my throat, oh, how I loved her to do that. And my ears, and my ears, and she would follow the lines of my mouth with her tongue-tip. I tucked a pillow under my head.

"Dove of my life," I began, "could you sit on my face now? I want very much to love you, to eat you back."

She crouched over me, her throat purring soft growls of caring. She bent, lowered herself to me, her clit rubbing itself on my nose first. Then her small perfect knees caressed my head. She leaned forward, one hand caressing my brow in softness. She was dripping wet, she must have been soaked from the beginning of our reception, but I had been unable to assist. I wished I could have spent hours masturbating her into climax after climax. Hands working, letting her ride herself upon my knee, letting her sit astride my hand, it being bunched onto a fist on my knee.

Letting her penetrate me in my own wetness, letting me crouch onto her own fist on her own knee, and take me into orgasm time after time. My dreams now would always include me flaunting my new lesbian sexuality and exhibitionism before all my crewmates.

How could we now dare to even think of having sex in public? It was only a dream. Also I had a sudden fantasy, a dream, for the both of us.

A replay of the wedding reception on the Holodeck, only it would now include the two of us turning into raw sexual exhibitionists for our wedding guests. Coming and screaming, staring into the camera's and open-mouthed face's, feeding ourselves into our sex and the future.

As B'Elanna worked her groin feverishly onto my face, as her cries turning frantic and more loving, I had visions of us having sex so that our guests might enjoy us more than any other thing. Fantastic fantasies of B'Elanna whipping herself on my face, just like she was doing right now. Only Chakotay, or the Delaney sisters, or Neelix, or Tuvok crouched alongside us to judge and enjoy B'Elanna's ecstasies.

I could almost imagine the murmurs of our audience as my Torres moved faster and faster, until she became spastic on me, cradling my hair, touching me, masturbating as she wallowed on my loving tongue and face, feeling how good it was.

She fell sideways, holding my head to her gushing groin. She jerked in a short series, then rested. Then she would spasm again. I came with her, her rich taste flooding my tongue and face. A few little touching's was all I needed to synchronize with B'Elanna when she came on me.

When we were snuggling together I pillow-talked to her about my sudden vision of a fun and erotic Holodeck program. She agreed that such a program would be a riot of a sex scene. We made sure Computer had saved our reception as a program -- in fact some forty calls had already been made on Computer saving the reception.

B'Elanna wanted to practice some sexual acts on our reception floor. Immediately. Computer informed us that the Holodeck One, Two and Three were booked full for the next four days.

"How many of them involve the recent wedding reception celebrating the marriage of B'Elanna Torres and Annika Hansen?", I asked.

"CANCEL THAT REQUEST!" B'Elanna urgently said. I looked a question at her (God, we were becoming so married so fast!).

She rubbed my long hair affectionately, and so lovingly. "Do we really want to know who and how many are using us as aides in their Holodeck sexual fantasies?" I looked astounded. She was soooooo right. Ignorance is bliss in this case.

In years to come I might think that this man or this female masturbated while lovingly holding me or B'Elanna during this reception. But I wouldn't KNOW! I could allow myself either the forgiveness or the acceptance or hope of sinless mind. I wouldn't KNOW.

"Remind me to have a pair of our own program matrix' inscribed on removable filche's. Leave NOTHING in the Holodeck Program's to indicate we were using our Wedding Reception as a sex-fun program. Understand? Good. We'll do it that way when we do it, right? Right," I said. After that we got back to snuggling and enjoying.

Which lasted about three minutes. I penetrated her from behind and she played with herself while I did it.

Then, after her quick climax, I asked her what she had been pretending we were doing on the reception carpet. She said I was on my back, wearing our biggest, longest and pinkest dildo. And she was impaling herself on it. Vigorously, with it coming out of her at the top of her cycle, so everyone could see how long it was. Something a lot bigger than anyone, with the possible exception of Neelix, could say they naturally possessed.

It took a few moments for me to put it on, and a lot less for B'Elanna to sink herself onto the lubricated dildo. She probably didn't need any lubrication, not this time. But we'd made it policy a long time ago to use lubrication whenever we fucked with a dildo.

I think B'Elanna came three times. Evidently it was a pretty powerful fantasy.

After that she used her green "Squirmy Rabbit" on me. B'Elanna says I'm becoming accustomed to screaming loudly when I come real good, like that. Me sitting on her and keeping the dildo 100% in me 90% of the time -- that is a good fuck.

That became one of my fantasies. Me showing our guests what was possible between two women. They asked so many doubting questions of me and my baby. They couldn't believe woman-to-woman could be any good in comparison to a REAL man.

That'd shut down their questions about how good lesbian sex can be between two women, when I'd already seen how good it could be with a man.

You get that goddamned super-active, long, wriggling, pushing, rolling and kicking rabbit in you for a few minutes and see if YOUR next sex fantasy is about fucking Tom Paris. And B'Elanna is one great fucker. She kept stroking back at me so long as I rode that sexy fucking toy.

We both needed a shower after that.

This time we actually started dropping into sleep despite the way B'Elanna kept rubbing her ass against my belly. Life with her was so perfect and so simple. We loved each other.

We laid ourselves down, side by side, back to face, touching, beginning to drowse together. "May you have a happy marriage, Annika Hansen Torres," she said, then licked my throat. "May you have a happy marriage, B'Elanna Torres Hansen," I replied. We went to sleep together. It was good. Tomorrow morning we began our honeymoon, down there, on the planet's surface.

BILL AND COO

The planet was titled Nek-Too by the Dessian's, so it was a natural that we called it Nectar.

Summer cycle northern hemisphere, lots of hot rain-forest south of us, very Terra-norm. B'Elanna had taken the time yesterday to set up the perimeter sticks early. Anything could fly or crawl OUT of our camping square. They just couldn't get back in without getting a force-field shock. Give it a day and practically everything living was on the outside of the campsite.

Thanks to a few day-after pills I woke up swathed in sleeping bag, half-Klingon and good sensations. B'Elanna woke up amorous, so I masturbated her and ate her gorgeous hairy pussy a few times. She did me with her smiling mouth and we had a late morning nap. Nothing to do down-planet but eat, make love, eat, sleep, make love, swim in the pond next door to us, make love -- but you get the picture.

The big surprise when we woke up was our hairy guests. They looked like giant beaver to me, as a Terran. B'Elanna was prepared to protect me from our guests, but even she came to understand they posed no threat. Obviously they weren't much bothered by our crittur fence.

They were just sitting in a corner of our grass lawn, sniffing and -- waiting. While a naked me came to sit lotus in front of our tent, B'Elanna squirmed out alongside me. The larger of the two, whom we later named Doris when we got to know them better, carefully wriggled/crawled forward until she was less than two meters from us and our tent. We eventually called the smaller of the two Denny, he was the lighter-colored male. He wriggled until he was alongside his mate.

Both had big incisors and a whip-like tail, but they weren't trying to be threatening. I think.

They didn't do much of anything, except retire to the side nearest the pond. After a few minutes we exited the big tent, got dressed for some reason in shorts and halters. Then opened a pair of Therm's for breakfast. Western omelet for me, blintz's and lox for my sweetheart.

I expected them to immediately rush over to mooch. Instead they cautiously side-windered over to us until they were a meter away and sniffing furiously. Maybe it was a wrong move, but if they became pests we could relocate them half the continent away. So I threw a piece of omelet and pumpernickel toast their way.

The smaller tasted a tad of the omelet. Then the larger tried the toast. They conferred, and my estimation of their level of civilization went right through the roof. B'Elanna was also wondering at their status of civilization. She tossed a lox on cracker at them. For the fish they got seriously agitated.

They turned and carefully waddled through the perimeter fence and back into the pond. They each whipped their thick ugly looking tails on the surface of the pond as they re-entered it. Leaving us to wonder.

With our guests gone, we threw a few blankets on a sunlit corner of campsite and seriously sun worshipped. The best part was smearing sunsheen over each other's naked bodies. With B'Elanna belly down I inserted a few fingers where they counted and gave my doll a giggling climax. She used the oil as a lubricant and gave me a foot-rubbing come. I could grow attached to honeymoon's at this rate.

What brought us awake after our computer timed naps was the realization we had guests again. They had come back and six fat fish had accompanied them. The fish had not come willingly.

I guess they had watched B'Elanna and I making love, and I hoped it hadn't sparked any right-wing religious crusades on their part.

With some awe for my extensive outdoor skills, B'Elanna had let me clean the fish and prep them for a fry. Instruments had indicated no toxic ingredients.

Two of them I put on a phaser-cut log, planking them, and setting the other two skinned/prepped on more of the cut wood. They were cooked in ten minutes or so for our beaver. Beaver seemed a nice name for our uninvited intruders. By that time we were calling them Doris and Denny, and they answered to their names.

The beaver-folk REALLY seemed interested in the planking, but did not move to touch or eat. B'Elanna soon had the fish leaning around a roaring fire, while I carefully 3D'ed the entire encounter. My sweetheart turned the planks a few times over the next ten minutes, until they looked and smelled done.

We forked some fish onto plates, let it cool, then offered a plate full each to the beaver. Their first taste of cordon bleu eatin'.

Better table manners than a lot of star-travelers I'd met.

They wouldn't eat until they saw we were getting ours straight out of the frying pan. Then they pigged.

They licked their plates clean three or four times. The astonishing thing was they didn't try to beg some of our fish.

After that they came close enough to touch. Denny was the one who waited a while for something. They he rammed himself into his bigger woman, rolling her over. He attacked her vigorously, rolling her to and fro.

He was scratching her belly and she loved it. You ever hear a tree coming apart in a storm? That was what she sounded like.

Denny immediately set his mate rolling until a capsized Doris was panting and squealing, lying upside down in front of B'Elanna. Then Denny dashed over in front of me, rolling, legs immediately in the air. Panting, waiting to get belly scratched by astounded me.

Once I was vigorously scratching, he began to shake his head and make a sound like a tree coming apart in a storm. He evidently liked it.

He added a burning carbo-block sound to his hysterical over-dramatic enjoyment. He also loved getting a sloppy scene-chewing top-of-the-head scratch. He was absolutely laughable once he began rolling over in each direction in turn.

Thus we made friends with the natives.

The next morning was the vital time, though. There must have been a hundred Beaver out there.

We got clothes on for a short visit from Harry Kim and Ensign Gilmore. He and Tom Paris had built a pair of vehicles they called a swamp buggy, and he was thirty klicks down the coast. He was on a 30-kilometre barrier island with two stumpy mountain-tops as the core of the island. Back of him was a Norway-sized coastal bayou, and Tom Paris and he had built these two swamp-buggies for fun and exploration.

Each swamp-buggy was two buoyancy skid bars, two seats on top, and a giant pusher unit on a big giant heavy steel box. That sat in behind the up-stepped maneuver chair. More for movement stability than room for the propulsion unit. Maria Gilmore squealed when she spoke about what a thrill it was to ride. You travel 50 KPH and it seemed like 150 KPH that close to the ground. Besides, it had all the standard safeties, she said.

You just sit in it, throw the control headband on, and gently take it out on a spin.

Was my Klingon reluctant to put herself on the comfy seat in front of the big pusher fan? Was she afraid to find out what was the fastest she could push that thing? Did she worry she might scream in delight? My B'Elanna?

I had supper ready by the time she whooshed back with Harry. Like any air-effect vehicle might, it climbed the slope alongside the stream, making quite a picture. Gilmore and I appropriated the vehicle once it returned, while we left Harry and B'Elanna at the camp site. We took lunch with us.

It was impossible to talk except on our throat-mikes, but we went for a hundred kilometers alongside the coastline, all around Tom and Harry's island. Computer said it was perfectly safe up to 120 KPH. We kept it around seventy. We took our clothes off and spent more time enjoying the shore than I could have imagined.

Gilmore worked the edges of asking how it felt to be a lesbian and married. Especially since B'Elanna and I had lived so much of our lives as women who loved guys. I answered that me and B'Elanna felt like a perfect match, and you can't much fight that. That we were both women seemed much more important to other people than it did to us.

We whisked through the Great Swamp on the swamp buggy, and that was great fun. I saw hundreds of Great Beaver and Gilmore showed how hundreds, thousands, ducked into the water away from us.

I thought it was too bad they couldn't get the whiz bang experience like I was. Upon that an idea grew.

It didn't take more than an hour, once I got Harry Kim and B'Elanna together. They were both engineers, and the ship sent everything necessary down via transporter. After that B'Elanna's skill with a compoloidal strut and a compoloidal glue gun produced a quadruple-saftied swamp buggy that would have to fall from orbit before it got much damaged.

Plus a latticed basket that should hold a few dozen Great Beaver's without any difficulty.

Harry and B'Elanna took it for a spin down to the ocean, bringing it back whooping all the way. Not being a person to fudge and hesitate, B'Elanna disembarked, then began loading Great Beaver into their riding basket. After the first two, they swarmed into it by themselves. Before B'Elanna could buckle up, the basket was full and they were all looking at B'Elanna and making that damnable split-tree-in-a-storm noise.

Harry said they adored their trip down to the ocean, complete with a jaunt around a small Tom Paris' type barrier island to the southwest. For a lower-speed trip through the great swamp they cried out continually to their kin there. They knew perfectly well where they were, in relation to our little pond. Going northeast, Tom Paris' beach had a few dozen Beaver, and B'Elanna said our batch somehow made room for them to take a trip as well. It was a crowded swamp buggy. When they got back to Paris' beach, his bunch got off. When they got back here all our Beaver got off, and Harry went back to the Island.

I took the controls next, and B'Elanna sat with me. Mostly new Beaver climbed in, and were agitated as never before as we got the swamp buggy cranked up. To say the Great Beaver liked a buggy ride would be the biggest understatement in the Delta quadrant.

One of my most enduring TriVid's of our honeymoon was one Tom took of us in our beaver-catcher and a basket full of Great Beaver. I get warm inside every time I see it.

That afternoon, during my second run with my beaver-catcher, when we were traversing the edge of the great swamp, the beaver got agitated. We stopped on a firm white-sand sandbar, and they all got off to go into the swamp.

Family re-union, both B'Elanna and I figured. So we went over to visit Noah Lessing's tent-site near the other end of the barrier island. He broke out some nice white wine, we drank a few glasses, and went back to see if our Beaver's wanted a ride back home. They were waiting for us, and stockpiled on the sand were four or five hundred fish of seven or eight varieties.

They'd performed an exacting volume estimate. The Beaver stood in front, the pile of fish behind them took up every single bit of available space. The swamp-buggy was a bit sluggish, and both balance and weight had to be re-configured by the computer, but it worked.

These Great Beaver's were a damned sight more clever than the Dessian's thought they were. I was believing we were in a First Contact situation here.

Presented with our observations, the Dessian's thought so as well. Their body scent was not so pleasing to the Great Beaver's as ours were, it seems. The Great Beaver's weren't so enthusiastic about species contact with the Dessian's as they were with us.

We made two more trips that day. VOYAGER cleaned and skinned half the fish for the Great Beaver's. The Great Beaver's in turn built ten fires outside the perimeter of our camping ground. All they had to do was roll a good lit brand with sticks held in their mouth's, then add fresh fuel to it. Then they wrapped a raw fish into a ball of clay. Rolled the balls of fish and clay over to a fire, then they cooked the fish. Rolled them out with a stick when done, and the Beaver's had a feast of hot cooked fish.

I think Sushi had just gone out of style here.

Somewhere they, as a race, had watched some camper cook fish that way. Maybe hundreds of kilometers away. They could communicate.

B'Elanna discovered one variety of fish that looked quite reddish when cooked, was heavenly to our human taste buds. She showed that type to the Great Beaver, and within a quarter hour a dozen more of them were given to us.

We'd just discovered another delicacy for our replicator rations.

We eventually stored five hundred kilos of fish and a hundred kilos of Nectarian crab and lobster into our storage bays. In return we sent cheese, pears, one thousand hard-boiled eggs and seven hundred two-kilo bottles of beer.

Don't ask.

Our last morning I was sitting in a folding chair, idly scratching the bellies of two kits that I think were Doris' babies, and I suddenly realized it was my last day. Tomorrow morning early (ship time) it was back to VOYAGER.

"B'Elanna," I asked, "could you add music to our swamp buggies capabilities? There's something I want to do today."

I was Parsifal, and my soul had entered it's eclipse.

Twenty minutes away was the greatest of the nearest sandbars. This one was kilometres long of firmly packed white sand at low tide. It had two hours to go until low point, and we took two dozen Great Beaver as my audience. B'Elanna shooed them to give me a large expanse to be my stage. They dutifully lay down in two arc's of intense curiosity.

"Computer," I said to the swamp buggy computer. ""Parsifal", Last Act, by the New Chilean State Orchestra, Musn el'Huzka conducting."

A little tinny, but acceptable, all things considered. The basses began as a far-away echo, some strings coming in, and suddenly everything speeds into the crescendo, the beginning. I remembered again how it had appeared to me when the New Chilean Company had come to Cochrane Hall in San Francisco, when I was a Cadet.

Blackness, the winds backing up the basses and strings, the music rising higher and higher in the darkness. Lightning, slowly growing light on the solitary figure, kneeling, beaten. Parsifal, searching for the Holy Grail, beaten, despairing.

I knelt, one leg back, my hands out to my sides, waiting for the end of my life and my pain. My hands move in front of me, the music rumbles, I rise up Arabesque, one leg behind, moving in a circle off my working foot, the shoes making noises in the sand heard only by me. I am Parsifal, finished, ready to die.

I am Dance.

I know it is high noon on a planet called Nectar by us of VOYAGER. I know B'Elanna sits on a swamp buggy float, mesmerized at her wife's poetry in the hard white sand. I sweat and salty liquid runs down the side of my face. I may sweat, but that's in YOUR reality. I am Parsifal. I am Dance.

En Evant, upright, arms in front, little Temps, jumps, on my toes. Turn, turn, building my barrel of air in front of me, arms beginning at my hips, turn, Temps, Temps, turn, Temps, my hands are waving in the air as the music begins to build to an unknown conclusion. I sweat into the gold sun of midday, but inside I am in the giant stage and the darkness of Parsifal's soul.

I Chasse, glide, then a Pirouette, a Plier, a bend, feet Terre a Terre, both feet on the ground, strike a pose, Attitude. I collapse against, inside myself. A knife stands in the sand in front of me and I grasp it to me, rising smoothly, the music turning ugly.

I dance to the knife, the knife is the kernel of my life and my death. It is my release from a dark and painful life. It is the center around which my worthless existence whirls. It is time to end my life.

En Evant, arms in front, I turn, I make small jumps, I whirl and hold the knife in front of me. Frappe, one leg straight out front, lowering so that I might caress the knife as swells of music darken and darken, calling for a release of tension. Calling for me to strike the knife into my bosom, to release me at last.

Suddenly: Petit Battement, little beat, the music is gone. Sweat rolls down my eyebrows. Except now there is a lute, four lutes, high and clear. I turn my startled face about me, wild eyed, confused, wondering.

Devent-front, looking to the four corners of my front. Transfixed by the clarinets and a single hand-drug calling to me.

The light appears. My mouth drops open, my hands let fall the knife. I am saved, and I do half turns, always looking to where the globe of light is.

I rise, making half-turns and small jumps. As I near the growing brightness, I slow my turns, dragging my non-working foot. I do a Pas de Cheval, a horse-step, another, another, my arms wide open to embrace the light.

I close my arms about my barrel, my globe of light, my head ducked down to merge with hope and the light.

My turns grow smaller and smaller as the music rises triumphant, as I rise triumphant. Then I kneel in surrender, rising with triumph in my face, collapsing into my victory and my destiny.

The music has reached it's mathematical pitch of success. The music quickly whirls into quietude. A few violins singing a sad-happy song. I fold out onto the sand. Parsifal is dead but is triumphant. He has held the Holy Grail and his quest is done. End of music.

B'Elanna rises with her hands clapping. I stand upon my knees, tears of success running down my cheeks.

The giant stage is gone. The curtains, the glowing light, the special effects, the drapes of darkness. I am once more on the white-sand sandbar, I am crouched, now standing on my dozens of acres of perfect natural stage. B'Elanna is holding me, we are kissing, she is warm against me, she is shaking and babbling.

The applause comes, it is a whirlwind making me deaf, throwing me in the air. It is the Great Beaver. There must be over four-five hundred of them, surrounding us, raising us, they are lying there, their voices of splitting timbers echoing over the blue water like an audience of thousands applauding, congratulating.

I am Dance. I bowed to my audience, again and again, taking their chatter for applause freely given. I kissed my wife again and again, until we felt the inquisitive whiskers of my furry audience about our feet.

I am Dance. I am strong. Strong enough to take VOYAGER home.

"Anni," B'Elanna whispered, "I want to make love to you."

I looked over at that one. "Before this, all you needed to do was start heavy duty fondling and groping, and I got the message."

B'Elanna smiled and started kneading one of my buttcheeks and then she licked my arm. "Message gotten?" she asked.

"I want to make love to you out in the open air," she said. "Tonight, Right now." I rolled over and spread my arms and legs in my own invitation and message.

"Out there."

Suddenly I understood. Before an audience. Exhibitionism.

In a few minutes we naked lovers had the blankets spread over our little meadow's delightful excuse for grass. I fell backward at one point, pulling my half-Klingon onto me. Giggling, tickling, licking her.

My hand was in her rich pubic forest, enjoying the feel of my fingers running through her hairy groin. Breathing in the scent of B'Elanna, rolling down her body, biting her nipples. Her auerole got soooo big and soooo hard, inviting not love licks but real biting. The feel of all that giving hard chewable breast and the flinty nuggets of her nipples was far too much for me to ignore.

B'Elanna spoke in a quavery voice to me as I brought my teeth into hurting by-play on our blankets. "Ooooh, Anni. I was the one ... I ... It was supposed to be me loving you," she complained.

"You will, you will," I answered just before I stuck my tongue into the tulip of her belly button. "After me, after me."

Then I was lost in the fragrant wet jungle of her groin. I rubbed my face into her hair, then I nipped her thighs, and then I found her vagina with my mouth.

She was very, very, very wet and it was a form of drowning, washing my entire face with the products of her sex. I licked And I licked and she groaned and jerked her crotch into my face.

She groaned faster and faster, imitating fucking motions with her hips as I tried to press my face more tightly into her sex. It seemed impossible to fuck her faster and harder with my face and tongue, and her groaning got louder, and more desperate, and her hips moved faster and harder and more exactly like straight fucking.

Then I grabbed her clit with my teeth.

I held tight to her clit with my teeth, riding her, hurting her, loving her, letting her have her hard, quick come. It was beautiful. She came all over me.

Afterwards I held her to me as hard as I could manage. I raised my head and saw dozens of pairs of eyes staring back. Our silent audience said not a word in this night. They might not understand what a lesbian was, but they had certainly drank it all in.

In our afterglow B'Elanna masturbated me and suckled on my bursting nipples. I felt so relaxed. At the same time I was getting more and more worked up.

B'Elanna gazed up at me, her hands busy and busy and giving me a small quick come. I couldn't think of a single moment in our relationship, in our love, where I felt juicier, wetter, more ready for B'Elanna's touch or mouth.

She had two fingers in me and I think I had a small come. I gushed, I must have wet her entire hand. Her thumb found my clit as it became three fingers in me. I think I came again.

We had a rule about doing some things always with the addition of lube. B'Elanna pulled out of me, I moaned to be abandoned. Then she spread cold lube on my hot sex.

I leaped with the shock, my hips arcing far off the blankets. Then B'Elanna inserted another cold finger in me, covered with cold lube. Then it was three fingers me, and my legs jerked wide spread.

Four. B'Elanna finally began to insert her fist inside me, easing her hand into my open sopping vagina. My pussy cried and cursed and groaned as it was opened to B'Elanna's intruding hand.

She was in. A slick pop occurred and her entire hand was in my open pussy.

I came. I came with a cry of pain, I came with my legs painfully stretched in the air, my fingers unable to touch myself. My clit was like a red-hot little bar of steel. Hard enough to burn me, hot enough to open my crotch, pulsing, pulsing, making my cum hurt in the stretch of my groin.

My fingers finally found my clit as B'Elanna worked her hand inside me.

It was so good. It was so complete. I was having the best sex possible in the universe as my clit was rubbed by my stiff desperate fingers and B'Elanna slowly rotated her immense small her small hand inside me.

I came again and knew I was having the universe's best sex while all those liquid beaver eyes around us drank in my perfectly lascivious fuck.

B'Elanna flexed her fingers inside me and fucked me with the most incredibly sexy sucking noises inside and coming out of my stuffed wet pussy. My knees jerked towards my ears and I cried out loud. Very loud. My finger was scratching my clit as incredibly obscene foot-in-mud noises came from my wonderfully full pussy.

I was covered with sweat, my legs were killing me, and B'Elanna was trying to withdraw her pretty little fist out of my pussy.

A rotation, I shuddered deeply, and cried out again. Then, with a very sloppy pop, she had pulled her loving fist out of me. I had to come again, with painful cries of joy. After a second I rolled to one side, curling into a fetal position, rubbing my sore sex, panting, biting my lips and tongue.

B'Elanna rolled me onto my back, spreading me for her own type of cooling ministrations after a hot hot hot fisting. She was such a splendid loving fucker. My pussy quivered in aftershocks as she applied her face and mouth to my still-pulsing vagina. She was so gentle, so insistent, so pushy, so careful.

When she finally lifted her face from my groin, it was covered in my juice. From her hairline and over her magnificent crest. All the way to two droplets gathering on her chin. I kissed her and she was delicious.

I raised myself on my elbows and gazed around me to all the rapt eyes of the Great Beaver laying in engrossed attention. Then they started talking in that loud tree-splitting cant of theirs.

B'Elanna took our sweaty bodies to the beaver pond in our river, walking calmly into it's moderate depths. Hand in hand we rubbed clean water over ourselves, the frigid water waking us and cleaning away our heat. Beaver swam with us, their inquisitive cold noses flickering over every inch of our satisfied bodies. I felt like the pond should bubble from how hot we must be.

We kissed, and as we exited the pond the beaver murmured and the night was perfect.

I struck a pose, the classic hand out leg back Arabesque. Suddenly I was straight, one hand slightly out and cupping.

For the first time I turned to face my aluminum windows. I looked into the cold stilly starry lights, rich with StarBows and flickering hostile stars.

My attitude unfolded into movement, my stiffness into motion. I was dancing for the stars. No, I was defying them. For the first time, though still afraid, I was defying the stars. Silently yelling at them that they were no longer able to crush me, silence me, terrify me.

Turn, Temps, Plier, Pirouette, Temps.....

My B'Elanna sat in a chair, still in her silk Peach-colored unders, mesmerized as I worked back and forth in our cabin to the swells of the opera.

I am Dance. I am Strong.

I shall bring VOYAGER home. Somehow.

I have a home to take my wife to.

END

AUTHOR INDEX