The BLTS Archive - China Shop
second in the China series
by R.Schultz (cousindream@aol.com)

---

Spoilers: Seventh season, after "Attached" and before "Parallels".

Disclaimer: Trekiverse belongs to Paramount/ViaBorgCom.  Resistance
is a joke.  I'm playing with Trek, and no money is made.  All the
critters go back scrubbed clean and sated.  Story is mine under
common-law copyright.  Written March, 2001.  6400 words long.

Warning: Graphic sex between (fictional) adults is part of this
story.  If this turns off your tractor beam, why not toddle off
elsewhere?  No underage humanoids allowed here, and nobody
who lives in a country or locale where they frown on a little smut.
Go away.  Read something else.

Posted to the Doctor Fuh-Q Fest, later to ASC*.  May be archived, but
please notify.

Second in the "China" series.

---

I am the very model of a modern major general.  Yes.  No one can
doubt the efficiency, the dedication or the necessity of my mission.
I am Doctor Beverly Howard Crusher, I am carrying my med kit as a
symbol of my potent authority, and I can be one mean muthra.  So no
one had better cross me.

A smile hurt my mask.  Oh, I could be such a phony when it was
necessary.  Or fun.  But then part of a good bed-side manner is the
ability to push the meaning of the word truth.  Periodically.  My
silvery med box swung easily in my right hand.

There was no privacy seal on the cabin door, which made it easy to
enter.  The main area was empty, of course.  I breathed a code to
computer and sensed rather than heard that it was now sealed.

It was at that moment I turned to face a noise faintly heard.  A
large naked Klingon was bearing down on me.  He had been hiding in
the bed area.  His arms were stretched towards me, his face was
rucked into a snarl, he was growling, and being female I noticed he
had a distinctly good-sized erection on him.

It was absolutely classical the way I handled him.  I crouched,
stuck out my arm with the metal bio kit in it, and partially spun as
I put force behind my swing.

A number of psychologically gratifying noises were pleasant in my
ears.  First off, my silvery case swatted aside the nearest arm.
Secondly, I felt and heard the kit when it made contact with Worf's
hard damned head.

Thirdly I heard Worf land on his backside.  He skidded to a halt,
swiftly rising back to his feet.  Still growling, still intent on
bringing his hand to my arm.

I had just enough seconds to bring that marvelously hard kit around
in a backhand.  Which was a replay of the previous sequence.  Swat
the nearest arm.  Feel and hear the jar when the kit slammed into
Worf's snarling face.  Watch and gape at the sight of Worf again
landing on his keester.

More females should see a male (or especially THEIR male) get
knocked on his ass.  Get rid of some of that notion that they can't
do anything to thwart their favorite muscular humanoid.

The med kit took an overhead route to slam against Worf's head
again.  However his arms were in the way this time.  He emitted a
very satisfactory howl when he got my full downswing on his forearms.

His legs then swept my feet from under me.  I tried using the med kit
again, but this time he just got the edge of the silvery case in the
middle of his gut.

I took the opportunity to rise to my knees, and laid the side of the
med case on the top of his crested head.  He roared up under me,
nonetheless.  Throwing me to the floor again.  I rolled completely
over, landing on my knees again.  This time I swung an elbow into the
side of his face.  I knew the wet I felt on my face was a sheen of
his blood.  I must have got him a good one that time.

The palm of his hand just about jarred my head off my neck, and I
knew I spit blood this time.  He had one of my arms, and was trying
to grab the other when I fell backwards.  He was almost ready for me
to pull him on and over me during my roll.  But close only counts in
horse shoes.  Oh, he made a wild sound as he flew over my head, my
boots in the middle of his chest.

Worf landed somewhere over his couch, not immediately rising.  I
sprang to my feet, arms out in defensive stance.  Panting like a
steam boiler about to burst.  Half my head of hair immediately in
front of my eyes.  Which was solved by shaking my head.

A few noises crept from the figure on the floor and I hurried over to
stand above the fitfully moving nude male.

"Are you okay?" I asked.  He mumbled something.  "Are you sure?" I
asked again.

For an answer his body straightened suddenly, catching my ankles in a
scissors.  I immediately bounced onto the couch, seeing stars my ass
landed so hard.  Worf was on me in a quarter-second.  One hand around
my throat, another on my arm.  Naturally I tried to kick into his
groin.  His thigh took the blow and he lifted me bodily from the
couch.

I tried a few times to hit him about his ears, or face, but he
easily shrugged the blows away.  He slammed me against the wall by
the door, and I tried to knee him in the family jewels.  Half the
time my feet were off the floor when he slammed me again and again
against the wall.  The fight went out of me.  I must have looked like
hell.

Worf paused, bringing his bloody face close to mine.  Giving a
little growl, obviously sniffing my scent.

"Its new," he said.  "Maybe a little too sweet, but nice.  What is
it?"

"Movilla".  Ro Laren wears it, its a mixture of Terran
wildflowers.  She lent me her bottle to try.  Maybe it IS a little
bit too sweet.  Did you like "Opium" better?"

"Cloying.  This new scent is better.  That "Citrus Joy" was
pleasant and could be smelt a room away.  My vote is for that."

"I am not a Democracy, Worf."

"Yes.  I have noticed."  A pause while we both regained our
breaths.  He looked at me, and I nodded my head as much as I could
with my head still pinned to the wall.

He growled a long throaty statement of animal signals, his free hand
touching my face and one of my breasts.  He leaned forward to lick
the blood still leaking from my torn mouth.  As he licked into my
eye, I leaned forward and seized his chin with my teeth.

For seconds we hung together that way, my jaw aching from the
pressure I was applying.  He ignored my clawing hands, rippling
noises issuing from his throat as he broke away from my teeth.  New
blood lines wound down his neck.  Lines of blood flowed down his
chest as my fingers ripped at him.  His growls became deeper, and his
arm muscles corded as he forced me to his mouth.  He licked my bottom
lip, and I laid my tongue to the blood on his chin.  It tasted hot
and bitter and more nickel than iron, very salty.  One hand behind my
head guided me, letting me lick the blood on his chest.

Suddenly I flew against the couch, falling partway down the front. My
legs were in the air, and he roughly heaved me back, one hand almost
pulling my trousers off.  I was facing him, and his belly forced me
against the back of the couch.  His tongue again licked my lip as I
drew new lines of blood on his neck and shoulders.  He growled his
emotions and held my throat with one claw-like hand.

"Hu-man bitch," he said.  "I have conquered you.  You are mine now to
do as I wish.  Do you dare dispute this?  I am a mighty warrior. I
honor you, hu-man weakling, by taking you.  Do you dare dispute this?
YOU ARE MINE!"

When my knee got him in his groin he bent immediately in half,
staccato noises came from his throat, and he pushed me back over the
couch again.  He didn't puke, but he gagged a bit.  His hand kept my
head pressed against the single remaining pillow on the couch.

I touched his arm, growling as he worked his way through his
distress.  I didn't fight him, just observing the color come back to
his face.  When was straightened up, he let me sit upright on the
edge of his couch.  I put my lips close to his ear.  It was bleeding,
I noticed, so I licked it for a minute.

"You going to survive?"

"It is fortunate for you, Beverly Fire-Hair, that we Klingon's can
absorb a great deal of punishment.  A little more force in that blow
and we should have to wait a week before continuing, damn you!"

"That means I pulled my punch exactly right, doesn't it?"  Lots of
sauce and arrogance in that statement.  He nodded agreement and
coughed a few times.  I promised myself never to tell Worf I was just
lucky.

Worf growled and threw me on the floor.

"Remove those clothes, hu-man.  And do it quickly!  I want to vent my
rage against you for your daring to resist me.  I am going to punish
you.  I am going to have your weak soft hu-man flesh as a flawed
vessel, fit only to waste my seed in.  Yet, I am a warrior with the
stigmata of divine forgiveness.  Instead of throwing your weak hu-man
body on the dung-heaps of Q'Oun'ros, I shall fill your womb with much
seed, Fire-Hair, and you shall bear me many warrior sons.  Be aware
of the great honor I do you in my fit of generosity.

"Hurry, off with those clothes while my patience yet lies over my
anger, calming me."

I got my boots off, and wriggled out of my trousers, taking my prim
little white panties with them.

Worf gave me a helping hand to allow me to stand.  My coat, tunic and
undershirt all soon littered the floor and couch.  He growled his
appreciation as I performed a little circle for him.  His erection
had suffered grievously, but the sight of me in fishnet hose, garter
belt, and a bra with the centers cut out, brought him back to life.
Males.  They had a direct connection between their penis and their
eyeballs.

Of course my outfit made me hot, too.  Some clothes exist solely for
accenting a gal's charms.  Still snarling, but with his eyes dancing
over my body, he brought me closer.  The way Worf squeezed and
fondled my ass showed he liked a few of my charms.

"Now bend over that couch, hu-man bitch, so that your master can fill
your worthless womb with the seed of mighty warriors!"

"Uh-uh, Master," I said.  "You know how later on you dry out a
little.  You promised this time I could have you first in my
mouth."  He looked a little askance at me.  "I've said before how
much I like the way you taste.  And you promised!"

He growled twice before grabbing me by my hair.  "Come, hu-man
bitch, you must earn the right to have my seed in your crippled
womb.  It is a privilege that may be gained only if you first
please me with your tongue and throat.  Do you think you can please
me in this way?"

"I shall try, Master.  If I do not give you good fucking in my
face, I beg you not to beat me too hard.  Please?"  Worf growled
agreement.

In a second I had flowed my mouth around his erection, inhaling
deep the essence of animal lust cascading in waves from his thick
thatch of Klingon pubic hair.  Oh, it was so delicious.  And fuck the
foreplay.  Hu-man style, anyways.

My nose was filled with his strong male scent and my mouth was full
of Worf.  Oh, but this was so glorious to me!  Feeling his meat slide
down the length of my tongue, smelling the hairs forced into my nose.
I immediately fought down my gag reflex and took him to the back of
my throat.  My throat worked him, milked him, massaged him.  Tight.
Hot.  Wet.

I had to take him in stages.  It was glorious feeling his hard
length inside my face again.  Mind, he was no giant of legend
there, but he was sure as hell long and thick.  I liked large.  I
could manage with less, but large was good.

We lie, you know.  All other things being equal, size matters.

My tongue kept working on him, my teeth biting, and sometimes I'd
slip my tight lips off him with a loud and liquid pop.  He liked the
Pop! sound.  So I did it a few more times.  I was giggling when I
took him down my throat again.  He liked the giggles.  Humming, too.
Especially lots of humming.

Nibble up and down the underside of his shaft.  Then swallow him
again.  All the way back.  I could feel each wet squeeze my throat
gave his meat.  I breathed his scent deep when I came up for air.

That lovely Klingon swelling told me when he was going to pop his
load.  My hands were drawing blood on his buttocks, I found out
later.  His wonderfully tight muscular male ass.

The head has a few sections which swell up as blast-off approaches.
Nothing major, a few centimeters are added to his diameter at the tip
of his blunt dickhead.

I felt the head swell, and began being very serious about my
deep-throat.  I'd have my lips in his body hairs (stupendous
lingering smell!) and my throat would convulse time and again
around the enlarged shaft-head.  Then I'd have to raise up for air,
take a deep breath, and force him to the back of my throat again.

The first jet hit the back of my mouth.  The second went straight
down to my stomach.  The third.  The fourth.  I had to come up for
air, and let my mouth relish the sharp bitter nickel-salt animal
taste of his sperm.  I was blessed.  He was coming in my mouth long
after he couldn't produce anything to ejaculate.

It was a good moment.  My mouth full of Worf's male taste and my
nostrils full of his alien reek.  I was as content at that moment as
any gal can be with a fallible male.

Worf helped me rise from my knees, licking my broken lip tenderly. I
licked his chin, making it bleed again.  "Bend over that couch,
hu-man.  You have proved worthy of my warrior's seed.  Now I shall
plant it in your unworthy womb.  Do you understand, hu-man?"

"I understand, Master.  I await the honor not due me.  This womb is
honored that you deign to use it."

I grabbed the back of the couch with both hands, laying my head
sideways on the giving cloth.  He forced my head down as I spread my
legs a little.  Oh, this was going to be FUN!

"Worf," I said.  "Lube?  Top inside pocket of my lab coat."

"I have mine right here."  I smelled a few esters as he sprayed
himself.  Then the cold spray made me jump as he hit me with a
shot.  I saw the spray land on the couch cushion, and barely had time
to prepare myself.  I felt him at my backside, then he was already
sliding deep inside my vagina.

Large may be good, but it takes some getting accustomed to.  I knew
my mouth was open wide only because I eventually had to close it.
Worf says I make noises as I fit myself around him.  Then He was
withdrawing and I had to re-fit myself.  Back in .... it was off to
the races time.  Worf grunted when I tried squeezing down on him.

Oh.  Oh.  Oh.

My satisfying turn at fellatio had already cranked me up, so it
didn't take long before I was grunting in unison with Worf.  Every
time I involuntarily or voluntarily squeezed down on him I could feel
the machinery in my belly tighten up and get hotter.  Worf kept up
the obscene wet sounds as he metronomed me.  In.  Out.  In. Out.  In.
 O....

Now he held himself inside me, making just short tucks, the point of
contact between our bodies still making that slick slapping sound.  I
loved that sound.  The wetter it sounded, the better I could squeeze
down without slowing his pace any.  And every time I tightened
down....

Oh.  Oh.  The heat rushed over me, I felt his balls slap my clit
every time he moved in.  I put one leg on the couch, spreading my
legs, tightening my flesh at my clit.  Then his hands were on my
butt.  Strong.   Male.  Holding me up.

Doctor Beverly Howard Crusher, Master Surgeon, quadrant famous sex
circus star now had both of her feet on the couch's back ledge. Watch
the Mistress Contortionist as she REALLY spreads her legs for her
man.  Worf held me in mid-air, pounding himself into me -- until I...

A real fire was in my belly

Oh.  My clit was a rod of hot duranium and the tip was melting
every time his hairy jewels hit it.  Worf held me against him as his
hips tucked himself into me time after time and I could let one hand
go free since he was holding me up and I pinched one nipple, then the
other one harder this time and I grit my teeth.

As I came.  I saw nothing, my eyes were rolled up, my entire skin was
covered with sparks of tingles and my clit was jerking, jerking,
jerking, as Worf continued to feed his stiff flesh to me, forcing it
inside me.  My nipple hurt incredibly, and I was amazed to see I was
still rubbing it viciously hard between thumb and forefinger.  I was
surprised blood wasn't coming out.

"Ow.  Ow.  Ow.  Ow."  It was really good.  Being filled up like
that.  If Worf had been two centimeters longer he'd been in my
womb.  Well, okay, maybe ten.  His forest of hair felt incredible
rubbing on my soft ass, though.

That's when I felt his head swelling up inside me.  The noises we
made were so wet now, after I'd come all over him.  Smlurck, smlurck,
smlurck, smurlessh, smurlessh.  And the slapping noise.

But mostly feeling that big wad of meat moving up and down my
channel.

Worf came, and I could feel each ripple travel up his penis.
...Six.  Seven.  Wait.  Eight.  Wait.  Wait.  He was through.  I
wasn't, though. I hissed at him, warned him, begged him, groaned, bit
my tongue, felt the tip of my clit melt hot hot hot again.  All that
hair rubbing on my butt cheeks.  The pounding as my clit got hit
again and again.  I let a few vaginal farts as I somehow wriggled and
worked myself on his still moving stiffness.  Until.

Oh the sounds and then I was biting my lip.  So good.

When I collapsed, Worf held me up.  I was sitting on the back of the
couch, Worf was almost out of me, I felt so empty without him filling
me.  I mumbled something, and he lifted me back onto him. The smell!
I licked my lips, tasting my blood and the exciting scent of my come.
 His couch was going to reek again.

Carefully now, he helped me twirl slowly around, the pair of us
still connected inside my groin.

Finally I could face him, put my arms around him, carefully lever my
legs around his bottom.  Kiss him a little.  Lick his face. Feel the
ease of movement as his still-stiff meat moved inside me whenever we
changed our stance.

"Worf'" I asked, "Could we go bed now?  This hu-man would like to
accommodate her old cranky bones and set her old cranky ass and the
fat rest of me on a nice soft weakling's friend.  A bed.  Please?"
Pause.  "Master?"

Worf had such a sweet smile, when he chose to use it.  He should use
it more often.  He held me by my butt cheeks, and I wrapped my arms
and legs around him.  Still joined at the groin, him and his erect
penis continued to give me little quivers as he slowly brought us to
his carefully made bed.

Somehow we eased onto that inviting bed, still joined.  I carefully
put my arms behind me and we eased me down onto the soft crimson
satin sheets.  He'd never realized, before I threw a set on his bed,
just how comfortable satin could be.  Personally I thought them
sensuousness personified.

We inched ourselves into the center of that incredible surface,
then just lay there.  I was panting a little, and I knew he was
feeling superior because he wasn't.

If I'm going to accept a full-grown Klingon to my, well, his bed,
I've got to work out more.  Dear sweet never-to-be-forgotten Tasha
had uploaded dozens of exercise programs into the holodeck, most of
them pertaining to martial poise.  I should join one of the groups
using them.  That way I won't use up all my holodeck allowance.

If I start using a few Sho-Let or Ju-Do moves in our foreplay,
maybe I won't have to keep replacing those damned metal med cases.

Worf, bless his heart was leaning back and pawing/caressing my
body.  He kept tweaking my exposed nipples in that damned sex-sin bra
of mine, and running his hands over the rest of me.  If he'd just
stop snapping that garter belt on my tummy.  Does he want to hurt me
or something?  Men.

For my part I had to admit wearing hose lent a delightful sensation
to my rubbing him with my legs.  I looked over at the large mirror in
the corner, admiring the way they looked rubbing against his dark
brown skin.  All that pale Hibernian skin sheathed in fishnet
stockings, just idly moving in the mirror's image.  Redheads make
great images wrapped around a nice large dark male Klingon.

Females have a direct connection between their eyes and their
groin's too.  Worf grumbled when I got him to install the mirror, but
he had it put in.

"Worf," I said, "Roll over, will you?"  He leered at me.  He knew
exactly what I meant to do.  "Please, Master?"

It took a little doing, and twice he slipped out of me, but we got it
done.  Him still making my pussy purr because he was in it. With a
little bit more careful work, I was able to reverse my position on
his muscular flesh.  With him still inside.

I was beautiful in that mirror.  Not cute.  Not nice for my age. Not
looking hot to trot.  Not striking.  Beautiful.

Drop dead gorgeous.

Worf might not present an image to his shipmates of a sizable
intellect.  But he knew what I began to do on his bed was an act of
love, of lust, of lechery, of total absorption.

I began my dance of hips, my tucks and glides, my play of thigh and
belly.  On Worf.  With Worf in me.  His large hands aided me,
supported me, helped me.  I worked my body on him.  I took him in,
and relished his movements in my vagina, his fullness moving within
my tube.  I gloried in the feel of him, the play of surfaces and
stiffness in my wet, tight sex.

But I was making love to myself.  I was gazing into my own eyes,
seeing my own lust portrayed.  My lips loosened as we rode me to my
next finish.  I was glorying in a form of masturbation that knew few
equals.  To be in complete control of the pace, the timing, the depth
and the angle.

I rode Worf, but the one I was fucking was me.

It is unfair, but all us women are taught from our infancy how
important beauty is.  How glorious, how transcendental it is to be
beautiful.  Ideas of beauty may change, but it is always important to
be beautiful.  Grace of movement, sexy moves, sensuous body, good
stylish clothes, surgery and make-up, its all a form of being
beautiful.  Most of us rarely feel beautiful, most of us never have
that assurance inside that we are indeed beautiful.  Those of us who
do find it, discover it flees as soon as it is grasped.

I was beautiful.  There was absolutely no doubt in my mind, in that
bedchamber.  I was beautiful.

My nipples peeked out hard and hot and dark, surrounded by frilly
thin black cloth.  My breasts were totally alive in that supple bra.
My legs were encased in fishnet hose, the lines of garter belt and
garters flashed in the soft light of this room.  My hair swirled as I
shook my head, sometimes hiding the invincible me in that mirror.  My
skin was pale and my cheekbones sculpted from finest soft rock, my
skin looked cold and on fire and alive.

And at the middle of me I saw a tube of hot flesh appear and
disappear.  Dark, male, sitting upright between large strong male
legs.  I moved myself on it, glorying in my beauty.  It was so
incredible...  My dark red hair pubic masking the meat as I took it
all.  The darkness re-appearing as my hips rode up on it.  My hands
bit my nipples into pain, into beauty.  My life, my body was filled
with lines of sparks from my nipples and my groin, my clit.

I was beautiful.

I
   came

After my little death, my eyes rolled back into their proper place,
and I breathed again.  I laid back against Worf, my legs were in
agony.  He supported me, murmured at me, caressed my belly and my
aching breasts.  I kissed his hand, licked his palm, accepted my
agony as he rolled me onto my side, then onto my back.

He opened my legs, staring down at me.  Inching forward.
Penetrating me with a soft squishy sound.

I held his arms as he kept his weight from falling on me.  I looked
up at him, feeling his size open me up again.  Deep and very open.
His hips banged into mine in that slow slapping that occurs when the
male has his body and lust under perfect control.

He used me, and I smiled and sighed.  Enjoying the hot erect thing
within my body. Feeling at peace, still being breathtakingly
beautiful.  I caressed my obscene fishnet hose, my too-soft belly. I
fit my hand between us, enjoying the sensations as Worf had me. I
felt his flesh slide between my splayed fingers, felt his body hair
caress the back of my hand.  I was beautiful.

It was with some surprise that I found my used body answering the
steady beat of his sexing with a chant from within my own body.  It
was an even greater surprise to find my legs lifting and fitting
themselves behind Worf's dark corded ass.  My arms could not find
enough to caress, so I told Worf to lower his body onto mine. First
he kissed my nipples, ignoring the tickle he had to have gotten from
the frilly black cloth surrounding my flame-hurt nibs.

He lay against me, and I searched his back with my nails, drawing
fresh blood, stiffening, feeling my clit melt down once more.

It was a glorious climax, partly because I had not expected it to
come so soon after my last one.  Partly because I was somehow ready
for it.  It boiled out of me, out of my groin.  But it was a loving
rush, it gave me fresh beauty rather than pain.  I had been ready to
come again, but had not know that.

We slept.  I slept, enjoying the wetness of our sexing.  I felt the
head of his penis shrink, knowing by this that he must have came
again at about the same time I did.  And I had never noticed.

---

When we awoke, he tickled me and soothed me and kissed me and
licked me.  We both came again, despite the sense of exhaustion
that flickered in my mind as I climaxed again.  I felt him swell
inside me afterwards, and I purred to accept whatever he might give
me at this finish to our loving.

We took a shower together, and he showed the lessons he had learned
about physically touching, touching softly, touching carefully.  He
was a good student.  And I was a lucky teacher.

It was after our shower that he proved our encounter was not yet at
an end.

He brought a now totally naked me to him while he sat on the edge of
his bed.  He was touching, fondling, caressing.  A quick glance
proved he was not ready again for more sex, so I wondered what he
wanted.  When we were side by side on the bed his hands began to
lightly touch my belly, my chin, my chest, my breasts, my thighs. my
body hair and the essential me between my legs.

"Open your legs to me, hu-man,"' he asked.  He caught my look and
added a "Please, Beverly."

It began with a little caressing, fondling, rubbing.  His fingers
found me, parted me, opened me.  His rough warrior's palm rubbed my
pearl out of its hiding place, his fingers delved inside me.  Even
now I was ready to lubricate, but I brought his hand to my mouth to
spit on it.  Lubricate the palm, hand, if you're going to give my
lust bead another ride.

It was natural to spread my thighs wide and fall slowly into that
vision state masturbation lends to me.

When he moved, it was not totally unexpected.  His head was between
my legs, and my love pearl came rigid out of its hiding place for
his large strong tongue.  Worf might still need a little coaching in
nuances and finesse and pacing.  But damn all, he's got the
essentials down pat.

Oh, this was going to be good, if maybe a little too sharp.  A gal
gets a little sore, after all.

I expected rougher handling, but damn all, he was gentle with me. He
licked in the join between groin and thigh, he lavished care on my
crop of auburn pubic hairs, carefully cleaning them as he went. He
probed my opening with his tongue, but did not force entry.  He moved
my labia with soft lips until I felt I was blossoming like a flower
in sunshine.  He rolled his tongue over my clit and made me sigh.  My
pain seemed transformed.

He made to move me, and I was confused.  Why stop when it was
getting so good?  He helped me.  He asked me to get on my hands and
knees at the edge of the bed.

Sweat beaded on my forehead, my mouth felt sandy, I felt my nails
make half-moons in my palm.  And then he kissed one swell of ass.

"Worf," I began, "You don't have to..."

I jumped out of my skin when he slapped one globe of butt.

"Fire-hair, you are a woman of deep desires and strong lusts.  You
want me to do this, and you know you want me to do this.  Accept it.
It is a proper thing to do for a female whose emotions burn only as
bright as her hair."

Damn Worf, he could be poetic as blazes when he tried.

I stopped thinking when Worf took his strong dark hands and spread
the cheeks of my ass.

The first kiss, the first sweep of tongue, the first touch by
tongue-tip, all turned me into a perspiring shatter of emotions. He
was right, he knew my secret, he knew I liked anal loving.  He knew
my thighs shook and my knees clattered, my groin grew instantly wet,
my nipples spiked, my belly quivered, my mouth hung open and my
tongue projected as Worf gave me his mouth and his love in that
forbidden spot.

His first lick made my throat stiffen.  The second made my eyelids
drop.  The third made me bite my lips.  The fourth made me pinch my
nipples.  The fifth made my toes clench.  The sixth made my vagina
clamp down on its emptiness.  The seventh brought an animal chuckle
from somewhere in my lungs.  The eighth found my vagina invaded by
two long fingers.  The ninth made me begin my endless series of
nonsense bird peepings.  The tenth made me lift my head and shake my
hair.  The eleventh made me scream.  The twelfth saw my body shake as
the third finger invaded me.  The thirteenth saw me lie my head to
the bed.  The fourteenth saw me choke.

The rest....
			I
                    came             again

Worf gathered me up in his arms and took me to bed with him.  He
pulled one of those beautiful crimson sheets over us and just -- held
me.  When I had stopped panting, he gently moved me and held his lips
close to mine.  I looked him in the eyes, frowning, smiling, mentally
shaking my head.

Sighing, I put one frail hu-man hand behind his head and pulled his
lips down for a kiss.  Damn him!

His eyes held a glint, and mine held resignation.  I can't refuse
Worf a kiss now, not now, not after what he's just done for me, where
he's just had his lips and mouth.  Which, of course, why he felt a
need for a kiss now.  He wasn't going to let me get away with being
detached from what I adored having done to my bottom.  I just never
admitted to myself I could taste myself on him. Therefore, I didn't
taste it.  Damn him.

Be truthful, Beverly Howard Crusher.  You liked being kissed there.
End of story and stop worrying at it like it was a sore.  So, of
course, I kissed Worf again, and made it a considerably hotter kiss
this time.

My skin was shiny with sweat again.  And my mouth felt dry.

Worf had some limeade for me in his kitchenette stasis box.  At
times I think Worf understood hu-man women better than some
spaceship captains did.  After our little encounter he poured
himself a prune juice double.

I had to see his flaccid member.  A girl could get really
possessive about something like that.  Especially since it was such
fun.  He.

Then I looked around his cabin.  Worf didn't own much, but it was all
on the floor now.  Except his Bat'leth.  But one of the hanging pegs
was out.

"Sometimes Worf, I think you're the proverbial bull in a china
shop.  If this was my cabin I'd suggest sealing it up until the
next overall refit.  That, or blast a hole and let the vacuum pump
everything out into space."

He looked at me.  "Okay, an exaggeration.  All things considered, it
doesn't look too bad."  He gave me a kiss on my back shoulder and
kneaded my naked ass.

The old broad still has it.

Now where the hell are my pants and unders?

---

I hadn't much more than entered my cabin when the door chimed.  It
was Deanna Troi.  Looking at me with a little smile.  Which I
returned.  Only mine was more a smirk.

"Had a busy night?" she asked.

"Very busy.  Made me really tired.  I think I'll go to bed now.
Early worms and birds in a bush and all that."

"That's good," she said.  "Because I think its my bedtime too."

A long silence while I leaned back against my couch and pretended I
wasn't holding a battered and dented silver med case.  Deanna on the
other hand pretended she didn't notice.  Almost.

"He missed one on your ear," she pointed out.

"Care to check for others he might have missed?"

"Only if you would strip for your examination.  Game?"

I crooked a finger at her and we trooped into my bed ensuite.
While we were stripping me down to my abused skin she kissed my
shoulder and suckled my nipples.  Such a sweet woman.

Then we stripped her.  She found three more spots Worf had missed.
She ran the dermal regenerator on them after she'd worked the muscles
and connective tissues back into a healthy state.  If you're going to
have Klingon sex, you'd absolutely better have access to modern
medical devices and procedures.

We had some Kiwi juice in the kitchenette, and she kissed my hand.

"Congratulations, Beverly," she chuckled.  "The last of Worf's
neighbors have requested alternative cabin assignments.  That
Burrds fellow, the thin one gamma shift communications engineering.
Says you and Worf disturb his sleep."  I raised an eyebrow at her.

"Data has already folded the movement request into old records, and
okayed it.  With the littlest tidbit of luck neither Riker or
Jean-Luc will ever hear of it."  I raised my glass.  "To Data."

"To Data," she agreed.  She rubbed my leg a little bit, biting her
lip and smiling that sneaky smile of hers.  "One of these days I'd
like to see a filche of just what the two of you do that makes that
damned much noise.  Burrds said his walls shook."

"Exaggeration." I explained.  "A bump or two, nothing more.

"Worf just enjoys his foreplay, that's all."

About that time I realized I was sleeping on my arm.  "Deanna, " I
really am tired, and I won't be very good company tonight..."

"Shut up and walk to the bed.  You're too much bigger than I am for
me to drag you there.  We'll tuck you in and be good friends and
bosom buddies and fellow conspirators together.  Fair enough."

"Fair enough."  We made it to my bed and Deanna rolled my
absolutely satisfied and sated female flesh to the side by the
wall, the side I preferred.  Deanna crawled in after me, inching
herself backward until I was pressing close to her naked back.

"Maybe tomorrow night?" I asked.

"Wouldn't miss it.  Now get some sleep."

Silence.

"Deanna, darling, sweetheart..."

"Yes?"

"If you steal all the covers again I'm going to ram my foot up your
pretty little Betazoid ass."

"I know, Beverly.  Get some sleep."

"I mean it this time.  Watch out."

Silence.

"Deanna?"

"Hhmmmmm?"

"I love you.  Get some sleep."

"uuuuummmmm"

The last thing I remembered was her hair tickling my nose.

---

continued the third story in the China series 'China Rose'