The BLTS Archive - Veritas
sixth in the Aide Memorie series
by R. Schultz (cousindream@aol.com)

---

Rating: NC-17, for sex stuff, which any Republican can tell you is
immoral and seditious. Do I sound bitter?

Disclaimer: All Trek belongs to Paramount and ViaBorgCom, ungrateful
wretches who degrade their innocent and defenseless series characters.
I debauch and sexually liberate these same Trek characters for joy,
not for money. Girls and Trek writers just wanna have fun. This story
mine under Berne Copyright Laws. 8300 words long. Written: March,
2003, for the FFF.

Archive to the FFF site, then to the ASCEML. Others please ask.

---

I couldn't do much else at the moment, so I deliberately set out to
relax, think non-panic thoughts, and contemplate acceptable avenues of
action.

Fuck it.

There I was, comfortably ensconced in a black leather sex swing
hanging from Beverly's bedroom rafters. Naked as hell, with my nicely
muscular legs spread very obscenely open. At the moment my neighbor's
(and lover's) fist was tightly held within my still quivering pussy.
Yet, even now it still felt indescribably wonderful to be so
completely filled with Beverly's strong hand. It had been very
satisfying sex.

It was, at this moment, also one of my life's most embarrassing
moments to the Nth degree. When it comes right down to it I'm not one
of those who want to have very public show-off sex in a Macy's Window.

Macy was a big department store in New York. They had big plate glass
windows all around the ground floor where they showed off things.
Hence the saying.

Ah well. I had just learned something new. And every day might become
a learning experience.

Bev was leaning her forehead against the arm that terminated inside my
vagina, slowly shaking her head. She was naked as much as I was. I
liked Bev naked. She liked me naked. We had nice bodies and we were
visual sort of gals these days. She was a fun sort of a gal, and her
naked body was visually appealing. When she was naked we could have
sex together, or just be friendly. We each liked sex. We'd spent most
of our lives being afraid of being called loose women.

Now we were loose women. Sluts, if you will. Fun-minded women. We were
accustomed to each other's bodies by now, but with no lesbian bed
death thus far to mar the horizon. It helped Bev was such a sweet gal.
A bit sharp tongued at times, but gentle and always willing for a
little more sex. Then that sharp tongue of hers was very handy. Not
that her lusty nature was quite germane to the situation at that
moment.

A ghostly voice echoed from her direction.

"That handsome young Vulcan who just received an eyeful of the both of
us was my third son, and his name, I think I've told you, is Jeric.
Jeric Selar.

"He's a extraordinarily bright young Vulcan, half Vulcan, and he
obviously decided to surprise his raunchy horny sex mad mostly lesbian
old fart of a human mother.

"My most sincere apologies, my sweet Kat."

Silence.

"Well," I managed to say, "he succeeded all to hell and back in
surprising you, didn't he?"

After that I began laughing. I had to. There was no other response
possible. Bev quickly joined in.

Bev leaned in to kiss my belly and thigh, her eyes meeting mine. Then
she flexed her fingers. The ones inside me. The mynx.

"Whatever shall we do, to pass the time until your spell of
vaginialismus abates?" Her other hand was underneath me, tickling the
parts of my ass that wasn't in the swing seat.

Obscene woman. Nice woman.

"Gee," I wondered, "seeing as how we're stuck here for a while, what
say we have a little sex? Just to have something to do? Keep the
boredom at bay?"

She continually flexed those fingers inside me. Somehow she regained
the bottle of lube underneath her stool, and added a few drops to my
clit. Then, even though it was obviously a hair uncomfortable for her
to do so, but she brought her other elbow onto my belly and began to
tickle the area of me adjacent to my clit. She kept blowing on it, the
air tickling my buried pearl.

"You're sure," I asked, "you don't have anything else you'd rather be
doing?"

Bev bit my mound. Just enough to send tiny sharp electric shock waves
through my groin. Then she spanked my clit a half dozen times. Loud
and hard. I jumped for each spank. I felt as if she could have run a
small motor off the charges coming off my puffy clit knob. Also the
slapping noises making me cry out. So she spanked my clit another
dozen times. The mynx.

"Beverly....."

More lube on my clit. Then her thumb began mechanically working it.
Not too hard, but she kept interleaving her masturbation with a few
spankings of my clit and mound. Sent shock waves skittering all
through me.

"Beverly...." I murmured, speaking much softer now. "Are you trying to
punish me for something, or get me off, you wicked, wicked woman?"

She leered at me, letting me see her teeth as she began to nip points
of me. All the time that damned thumb kept working me. It felt damned
good.

"Instead of making me do all the work, Kathryn Elizabeth, why don't
you touch those lovely breasts of yours? Or maul, if you prefer. Make
those nipples of yours nice and dark red. Stiff and spiking."

I loved my nips when they got stiff and hurting.

Soon I was brutally rubbing my nipples between thumbs and fingers,
enjoying the lightning bolts I got when they were hurt and pinched.
They felt SOOOOO hard.....

"Beverly...." Lots of romance and quivering in the word this time.

"Lay your head back, Katie sweet, relax, forget me, forget the world,
forget everything.

"You're a pussy and a stiff little clit and two hard red nipples.
Nothing else. Live in the wave, enjoy it, forget everything else."

She was fucking me. I could feel the movements of her fist, hear the
obscene wet squishing as she moved her hand in me.

At that moment she could have withdrawn her fist from inside me. No
problem. But if she had, murder might have taken place. But Bev takes
good care of me. I loved her so. She was fucking me and fucking me and
my nipples hurt so GOOD and that thumb kept rubbing my wet hard clit
and

i came

and it built and i

came again or still it was still because I felt the top of the ridge

and I rolled down the other side, screaming and cursing and hoping
Jeric was getting an earful because his mother was such a beautiful
woman and such a great fucker and I shouted my love to the universe as
she twisted her hand in me and pulled it back and forth and

the top of the ridge was just there....now

and she pulled her hand out of me with a loud erotic wet pop

and I shuddered, unable to speak, as I came again

and again

I quivered in the sex swing, my whole body tight and curled together.

---

Beverly stood over my helpless panting figure and wiped her hand on my
belly and breasts and ass and then gave me fingers to suck, which I
did. She was panting also.

I tasted good.

Before I became such a wanton, I don't think I enjoyed the taste of
me. I enjoyed my own taste now. I was a woman and I enjoyed the taste
of woman. Admiral Janeway, slut.

Bev leaned over to gently suckle my breasts, the pain making me cry
out, the soothing hot coolness making my universe progress in
interrupted waves of hurting/bliss.

Her fingers fondled me, penetrating me just a little bit, enjoying the
juice of me as I was enjoying the cool/hot stutter downwards to calm.
I brought the fingers back to my mouth, relishing the slight taste and
the phallic feel of her fingers in my mouth.

"Help me down," I begged Beverly.

She did, kissing me as I stumbled into a more or less controlled erect
posture.

"You're right," she cooed in my ear. "We should really get ourselves
decent and go greet my damned nosy son."

"Screw him," I returned. Which was just exactly what I had in mind.

"I have to hit the dumper and then I want you in that freaking damned
sex swing. It's your turn to try out that thing. Or mine, depending on
your point of view.

"So far as your son goes, he was impolite showing up on your doorstep
unannounced. Very impolite. And he can damned well wait until we're
finished, I'm finished, before you can go make like Family. Agreed?"

Bev giggled for me. She even blushed a mite for me.

"He's going to think we're still stuck together," she said. "Or worse,
maybe."

"Good. I want his mind to be full of the pair of us doing wonderfully
obscene things together. Soundtrack included. I'd appreciate it if
you'd scream it to the world if I happen to please you. Agreed?"

Lots of giggles. Us girls just like to have fun.

The pain in the neck with Bev's new black leather toy was having to
adjust a few of the straps on the swing first. I'm shorter in the legs
than The Raunchy Redhead.

However, it was then an immense giggle helping her naked redheadness
into the thing. She got introduced fast to the concept that with her
spread out in that thing I became the automatic Dom in this game.

"Just lean back, play with yourself, sweetie. Relax, I'll do it all,
I'll take care of you good. You just spread 'em and be juicy." I sat
down and put my mouth to work. Then leaned back, shaking my head. She
yelped when I could move her entire body through my mouth-grip on her
sex. Definitely Dom feeling.

"Not juicy enough," I complained. "I'll have to do something about
that."

I threw a pillow on the stool for comfort and height, and then filled
my hands with asscheeks.

After a little soft licking and nibbling on her clit, I pulled back
and caressed her sex with my face. Then I was admiring it.

"Beverly, luscious lesbian light of my life, it always amazes me how
beautiful your pussy is." She liked compliments and my talking dirty.

"We both know most women sort of look the same, but you DO have a
lovely groin. It makes me happy to look at it, I love the way it
feels, your hair in my fingers or tongue, the sight of you open and
waiting for me. The beauty of you pleases me and makes me happy. I
enjoy SOOO much making love to your perfect pussy, Beverly dear. I
love you, I love how cute your pussy is.

"Do you know, I have trouble remembering the me of not so many years
ago? Yet I think I always thought a pussy was a beautiful thing, I
just never quite understood why I felt that way. And the thought of
actually using terms like cunt and pussy was absolutely impossible. To
me sex was an abstract. Now I enjoy making love to your pretty pussy,
and it feels so right to do so. Have I ever told you that you have a
tasty pussy?"

"Katie, sweet," Beverly murmured in reply. "Can we skip the dialectic
materialism or Jungian analysis or whatever for right now, and
concentrate on the dining? More eating and less bull!"

I bit her where it counted.

"OUCH!" she squealed. "I'll GET you for that.

"Later," I said.

---

At this moment her eyes were glazed, and her body limp in the swing. I
kissed Beverly a dozen times, letting myself sweat on her, enjoying
the sensation of my nipples letting loose little hot droplets on her
wet flushed body.

"I'm pulling out," I warned her. It might be a dildo in her, but it
felt like something of my own as I pulled my hips back and felt it's
ridged and wrinkled length emerge from within Beverly. Bev grunted
something subvocally, and her eyes fluttered.

As I'd managed to come with her that last time, It felt pretty damned
good to stand back and admire my handiwork. Or dildowork, to be more
accurate.

I dismounted the Risan toy from my groin, shuddering as my pubes were
tickled and stung by the sudden withdrawal of the anchoring filaments.
I stuck its length in Bev's mouth, where she nursed on it. Then I
crouched, licking flavor from her vagina and asscheeks. Bev had been,
was, wet this time, but then she was frequently in that state.

My entire face felt wet by the time I was done wallowing in her groin.
"Pity," she begged in a whisper, "take pity on a poor mortal." So I
stopped licking and rubbing.

"I'm going to get something wet to drink for the pair of us," I told
her. When she made some vague motions I told her to stay right there.
"Don't bother getting up and out of the swing. We weren't done yet."

Bev managed to crook a weak smile at me. "Is part of all this...."
(meaning the sex frenzy I, we, were in) "....your getting a zinger on
my son for barging in us?"

"A lot of it, yeah," I admitted. "Part of it is being excited knowing
he has to hear us with those damned Vulcan ears of his as we fuck our
brains out."

"Provided he's still out there somewhere," she reminded me.

"The concept excites me, also," she leered. "Try to find a wine for us
to drink. I could use something sweet and cold. Check my fridge.

"In the meantime I'll lie here and dream of sugar plums and sleighs
and Rudolph and the whole bloody team of reindeer...." Pause. "Ooohh!
That's kinky. Is Santa's sleigh MALE reindeer?"

"Pervert," I returned. "Mostly female, I think."

"You're the one leaving me here with nothing but my imagination to
keep me company." So I stuck my dildo back in her face.

I'm sure Bev noticed I didn't bother putting any clothes on my
muscular young girl's body. After her son had seen me in that swing
with his mother's hand in me, a little nudity was rather tame.

But Bev had hit it right on the nailhead. I was in flaunt mode, and I
was casting the net of my flesh into the sea and seeing if I could
snare a fresh wriggling Vulcan in my net.

Did I mention I thought he was cute? Maybe I didn't get a chance to
inspect him closely, but he seemed cute, he was taller than me (a
necessity, for a male), and I'd always had a yearn to bed a Vulcan.
Maybe just the one time, but I'd had the yearn since I was a teenager.

At pajama parties we girls used to wonder how Vulcans were built. We
repeated the rumor to each other that Vulcans had two penises. Penii.
Also the one that their penii could wriggle and bend in any direction.

Discovering those stories were myths were more disappointing than
finding out there was no Easter Bunny or Great Pumpkin. A naive child
should be allowed her illusions.

Jeric was nowhere to be seen as I (casually) sauntered through Bev's
house. Once I got to the kitchen in back I could see him out in the
snow being very human-like and playing games with our herd of hounds.
Mainly running round and round in the chill white stuff and letting
the dogs catch him. Or him them.

I sipped on some white grape juice Bev had, and deliberately stood in
front of the sliding doors to the patio. Sure enough he eventually
noticed naked me was standing there and watching him play. He smiled,
waved, I waved, and I pretended I didn't notice how bare-assed I was.
He trudged to the sliding panels of transparent aluminum, and I
innocently opened them a crack so we could chat.

He acted like he was in the company of naked old redheads all the
time, and I was nonchalant right back at him. I hoped he was enjoying
the eyeful he was getting. Especially after the eyeful he got of me
getting fisted by his Mother, earlier.

Personally I never saw much profit to be gained by being subtle and
coy when a sledge hammer would accomplish the job just as well. Isn't
a walnut made that won't crack open you hit it with a five-kilo
hammer. Now what made me think about nuts?

Jeric's ship, the RAMILLES, was in for a ten-day refit, and he had
made a bee-line for his human Mother's present address. He had thought
he'd surprise her, and he did. Surprised me too.

Very human notion, that of surprising someone, and he admitted as
much.

"I am the despair of my Vulcan grandparents, as is my brother.
Socially Vulcan is adjusting to the concept of humanity interacting
with our culture. Each individual, however, has to make their own
peace with the wave of changes.

"Two grandsons who are specifically part of that societal
interpenetration is another matter entirely.

"They are entirely too logical to rebuke me for my human mannerisms
and thoughts, but are well satisfied when my Vulcan genes and values
are dominant."

We were playing a game, and if the cold breeze whipping over my
goose-bumped body from the partly slid open window-door made me
shiver, it was worth it.

"So you consider yourself an orphan, caught in the interchange between
societies?"

He almost smiled. Vulcans.

"I consider myself both enriched and enlightened by my insights into
both my native cultures.

"I am no orphan, and neither society has rejected me. Rather, I am a
fortunate being, who has been given a unique place in life.

"My one mother has raised me as a child, and the other nurtured my
brother and myself as we moved through the troubling universe of youth
and Starfleet Academy.

"My one mother has prompted me always to consider options in
addressing a problem, and the other has urged me always to discover
new ways to overcome a problem. Both have reinforced behavioral traits
valued highly in either society.

"Myself, my brother and my sister have been well served by our
mothers."

Very formal. I expected nothing less from a Vulcan.

"Thank you," Bev's voice came from somewhere to my left rear.

Bev was there, in one of her flaming red China silk robes, holding one
open for me. Hint, hint, she was saying, get some damned clothes on.

I wriggled into it (mine was emerald green) with as much seductive
grace as a small Admiral could manage, letting a lot of me still show
once it had been belted. Flaunt is good. Especially when you're
seducing a male. Males look a lot.

For a few minutes Bev and Jeric made family noises and motions.
Obviously Jeric was a lot more demonstrative than what legend said
Spock had been. Spock would never have held his mother crushingly
tight, lifted her in the air, whirled her around so a lot of leg
showed, and laughed with her.

This might be easier than I had feared. The famed Vulcan aloofness
seemed lacking in this one.

For a minute I envied Beverly, being in the bosom of family, and loved
because of genetic ties and past parental caring.

For a second I wondered about having children myself. I still had a
hundred eggs stored in the Fleet C-Lockers, and if I took care of
myself I could probably nurture some child into full adulthood before
my second aging began to take place.

I shall have to think on this. If I wanted a boy, I could even ask for
a male donor out of some CryoBank.

The common Starfleet joke was that James T. Kirk had donated numerous
times, and been requested so many times (emptying his vials) that he
should be called father of his country.

The lesbian couples in the San Francisco area liked to have kids, and
the memory came to me that there were an awful lot of tow-headed boys
on suburban streets. Outlandish!

The thought hit me of being co-parent with Naomi. A bit from me, a bit
from Naomi, and Voila! Instant child!

There was Beverly (and wouldn't THAT be a hoot!). B'Elanna.

Annika.

I gotta think hard on this. Later. Seduce Vulcan first, contemplate
paternity later. Seduction be more fun, besides.

It had not escaped me that when thinking about parenting I immediately
thought of doing so in a lesbian partnership. The notion of going it
alone or getting a husband did not appeal. Thus far had I traveled in
a few short years.

The dogs followed Jeric inside, and promptly demanded their rightfully
deserved 100% of our attention. Fat chance, I thought. I was too busy
making chat-chit with the new male. It was unfair of me, I know, Bev
could not compete with me for her son's attention. Not in that manner.

He even sat and drank some of the family Chinaberry Wine.

Jeric did begin the spiel about how food was but fuel for the system,
and anything would serve. Replicator rations, even Iron Rations if we
had a few cases put away for next centuries famines. Iron rations is
not a whimsical term but a factual description.

As a matter of fact both Beverly and I had a pair of dusty cases
squirreled away in our root cellars. What could I say? We were both
ex-Starfleet, and the military does things to one's perspectives. Or
minds.

Actually it all became very Indiana-like there, in Bev's kitchen.
Beverly got out her basic mixings and put together some pancake mix
and sprayed some slik onto a big skillet and proceeded to cook
pancakes.

First she did one of her party tricks and juggled a half dozen eggs in
the air. Jeric stood and managed to juggle five without dropping any.

Bev juggles amongst other things. She was also known as the Dancing
Doctor in her cadet days. Since we've become lovers she's taught me
belly dancing, disco, tap, both Scots and Irish Hibernian sword
dances, a licentious strip-tease and a really killer tango.

Tangos were meant to be danced in the nude so that after all that body
rubbing and sensuous moving you can get totally animal. Theory of
Tangos as formulated by Crusher and Janeway.

So, while watching my green-eyed lover do homebody cooking I got to
read a glimmer of Vulcan body language. Jeric seemed anticipatory
about breakfast with Mom. From the badly concealed glint which came
into Jeric's eye I had a sneaking suspicion Bev's Vulcan kinder had
been;

1)Pampered in a few non-essential ways.

2) Introduced early to high-calorie high-cholesterol high-weight-gain
foods. I wondered if Jeric had ever tasted an Elvis Presley Special?
Fried bacon and peanut butter sandwich.

My waist line got bigger just thinking of it.

After umpteen years of Command, I managed to limit myself to three big
hot fresh blueberry pancakes with blueberry syrup. Us Captains are
made of stern stuff. I told myself I'd exercised plenty already today.
Not even counting the orgy.

Jeric must have the metabolism of a Tarq in rut.

Targs in rut. That was a nice thought to have, watching him stuff
sugars and starches into his big expressive mouth.

If I had a kid or two would I succumb to sins like this? Throwing food
at my innocent young? I had a gut feeling they'd never be quite that
innocent, and yeah, I would.

Fortunately he didn't seem to mind me playing a little footsie with
him under the table.

The un-Vulcan Vulcan grabbed my foot at one point and held on to it.
While I warily contemplated being pulled onto my butt, underneath the
table, he started playing tickle games.

The lech!

Bev knew, I presume, because she steered the conversation to an old
perennial. "What ever happened to....?" questions. Letting me know
that her Jeric, at least, was unVulcan enough to have dated a few
Earth girls in his mad and frivolous youth. Seduced? Most probably.
Bev's attitude on this came through loud and clear.

Bev had observed in the past that Jeric thought Earth Girls Were Easy.

Far be it for me to rain on his parade and tell him some Earth girls
were difficult to bed. Barring myself, of course.

Actually he was a little disappointing. I had fantasized about how
through unrivaled zeal, dogged persistence and gifted maneuvering I
would coax a resisting Vulcan into my fevered bed to sample my even
more fevered loins. The climbing Mount Everest syndrome. Overcoming
all obstacles, etc. Being able once again to prove that I was
SuperWoman, since my rejuve.

And here I was getting Vulcan fingers through my toes. Easy money. I
sighed. Another of life's disappointments.

Then it was that I discovered the dogs loved my toes.

Bev had sat down next to Jeric and rubbed against him, caressed his
shoulders in a motherly way, and joined her son in fondling Kathryn
Elizabeth Janeway's erogenous-zoned toes. She had hooked my other foot
over and pulled it into her lap for a bit of
this-little-piggy-went-to-market foreplay. I was turning into very
soft putty/syrup in this set of very friendly hands. I liked getting
my feet fondled. Admiral Janeway, foot-slut.

About the time I closed my eyes the better to enjoy the sensations,
Beverly had poured pancake syrup on my toes.

THE SNEAK!

So until the flavor was all gone I spasmed on the floor and fought
giggles and howls while every damned canine in the kitchen fought to
run their doggie tongues over my toes.

Dogs LOVE blueberry syrup!

For an indefinite period of time I wound up curled into a ball on the
floor, an awful lot of me showing again, and laughing hysterically
while my feet were tickle-licked into insensibility.

Eventually our faithful hounds went of to get another nap after all
that strenuous licking. Bev just watched and threw me a wet dishcloth
once I'd calmed down enough again to function normally.

Not a word did she say. She just watched and tried not to smirk.
Unsuccessfully, I might add.

By now Jeric was energetically and pointedly engaged in playing with
one of my Irish Setters. All his polite attention was focused on
anything but an obscenely nekkid Admiral Janeway. Kathryn Elizabeth
herself had wriggled all over the floor and showed off parts of
herself Jeric might not have closely observed previously.

He was not embarrassed, no, more like polite. Not Vulcan, not
offended, just patient and hopefully enjoying the hell out of seeing a
well-muscled female splayed out all over Bev's kitchen floor. I made a
point of retying my robe once I'd regained my feet. Calmly restraining
myself from going over and sitting on that Vulcan lap. I'd love to
feel him poking me in my hip.

I hoped to hell he was close to growing stiff for me.

Nice body he had. Did I mention that? If he didn't kiss good with the
big thin-lipped mouth he had I'd qualify it as a sin against nature.
But then again, maybe he was a fast learn. If I wanted to spend the
time teaching him how to kiss.

Beverly pointed out to Jeric that despite the impromptu breakfast, it
was already afternoon. If we wanted to make it to my place before
total darkness, we would have to shuffle along.

Be good for our bodies, we'd take precautions, the dogs would love it,
it's a path we used ourselves. We were going to snowshoe over to my
place. All of us.

First I heard that we all wanted to go to my place.

Dear Beverly explained it all once we had retired to our bedroom to
get dressed for this wonderfully invigorating and totally unexpected
trudge.

I had visions of us having a marshmallow roast in front of her
fieldstone fireplace and then me and Jeric and etc. and etc.

Beverly Howard Crusher Selar thought it was a marvelous chance for me
to show her son what a rugged outdoorsy type female I was.
Invigorating. Muscular. Enterprising. A leader.

With the additional subtext that muscular and surprisingly fit me'd
probably be stupendous in bed and a capable mother to his two dozen or
so as-yet-unborn children. Besides which I could fix dinner for us at
my place and I would get a chance to show him what choice viands and
tasty tidbits I could concoct before topping off the night by dragging
him feebly protesting to bed.

Beverly suggested the red satin sheets and the fiery orange
semi-transparent harem-girl's nighty that showed a lot of silky belly.
Spray on a little body oil first. Rub in some of that lime-lemon
erotokreme to keep my nipples erect forever and ever. Then wear that
gaudy ruby in my belly button. Rumors to the contrary, Vulcans were
sensual beings.

At least in private where their un-Vulcan tendencies could be
indulged. I had to admit to a curiosity as to what kept Amanda and
other females so firmly bound to Sarek the Ambassador, Mister Cold
Fish himself.

I felt like I was the second-in-command of an assault drop by the
Fleet Marines on an un-scouted planet. I'd always felt Starfleet
missed a good bet by never having Fleet Marines. Someone to wear
incredibly neat starched uniforms and talk in monosyllables while
maintaining clenched jaws.

Rock and roll, full automatic, saddle up, Semper Fi. I saw too many
holodramas when I was an impressionable child.

Jeric was not unwilling, and quite patient as we kitted him out via
replicator for a winter's mush across Indiana snowfields. I had more
than a suspicion that this would not be the first time his Earth-stock
mother had taken her brood off haring on some unexpected adventure.

Growing Up With Mother when she was Beverly Crusher must have been an
adventure in and of itself. How many other adult Vulcan males could
juggle eggs, surfboard, speak French and do the Charleston? Oh yes,
and hit what he aimed at with a Kentucky black powder Long Rifle?

If he could kiss anything like as well as his mother, he was listable
as Perfect on many girls wanna-charts.

Fortunately for my ego he was a klutz as a snowshoe walker. I had the
luxury of easily maintaining a slower than comfortable pace and
keeping my bundled-up self close to him. A light atmosphere suit
suitable for arctic climes was not supposed to be a fashion statement.
However, mine was skin tight, pliable to the Nth degree and
fire-engine red. More than once I walked ahead so that he could admire
my ass moving. If he didn't admire it I was wasting an awful lot of
effort.

Beverly admired it. She threatened to drag me off to bed immediately
upon our arrival at my place, and do indescribable things with my ass.
Her very words.

She was teasing. She knew who I was trying to ensnare.

Once she was taking the time to fondle and work my buttcheeks and
whispered to me that he, Jeric, was avidly watching each jiggle and
quiver her hands imparted to my globes.

A fondle in need is a fondle indeed.

Certainly all that fondling got ME worked up. Fondle, fondle.

The dogs knew enough was enough, though, once we'd gotten to Manse
Janeway. Fun was fun, but all that snow trudging had evidently lost a
lot of it's charm by the time we had arrived at our destination.
Immediately inside they were tearing around and looking for food which
wasn't there, and old toys to chew on, which were. Bev's silver
Tatiana had a Teddy bear she chewed on. The wolf in her coming out, I
guess.

This present Teddy incarnation was almost shapeless by now, and
sopping wet by the time she dragged it over to the newly-made fire
popping in the hearth. It's no wonder Dogs are so playful. They spend
a LOT of time resting and recuperating their energy. Tatiana liked to
keep her Teddy close to her when she napped.

As for us erect bipeds, we had simple old fashioned Indiana chuck
roast and hot Italian loaves and far too much Picard Beaujolais. I
worked my vocal cords to a frazzle calling up everything but the wine
from the Replicator. A woman's work is never done. Mend the clothes,
cook the vittles and warm the bed. I hoped.

Jeric raised his glass for a toast when he poured for us.

"Jean-Luc Picard," he intoned. Then he said; "To Father." We all drank
to the one or the other.

We each had plenty of refills and two bottles betwixit us. As Jeric
seemed just a hair pixilated at the end of a wonderful dinner (don't
forget the breakfast Chinaberry wine), I had hopes that likker was
quicker.

Jake Jr. prompted me to lose my shoes and accept his doggie self as a
foot warmer. Both Jakes liked to touch and cuddle their mistress a
lot. I dared not allow them up on the bed or I'd have been suffocated
in my sleep long ago.

Beverly Crusher called up some marshmallows, sinful pure sugar and
etc. and guaranteed bad for you. Even now, with the availability of
faux-sugars and faux-fats, us contrary homo sapiens consumed the
original tasty bad stuff.

Bev and I flipped to see which one of us had to go outside again to
get some sticks to roast our marshmallows on. I lost.

By the time I got back I wished I'd put on the Arctic suit.

The dogs didn't follow me out. They weren't stupid. They could smell
the marshmallows. Justice and simple decency demanded they get their
fair share, right? So they huddled near the fire and salivated a
little more than usual.

By the time Admiral Janeway shivered inside again with several
appropriate sticks, I was ready to huddle near the fire as well.

Jeric and his mother were both belly-down near the fire, being
lovingly close. Bev was draped all over her son in a most intimate
manner as I entered. Whispering in his ear. Smiling. Him smiling. Both
watching me shiver and eventually thaw.

Beverly had been telling stories out of school. My mind raced and my
face reddened to think of some of the things Beverly could have
truthfully revealed about me and things I liked to do. And a number of
things she could have whispered which would have been pure invention.

If I could have gotten an erection, I'd have had a doozy right about
then. Instead I'm sure I had become a swamp.

Bev smirked at me an awful lot while we roasted marshmallows. My mind
kept debating things she might have told Jeric about me. The more I
thought, the more my hands shook and the more obscene my imaginings.

I'm not sure if I ever ate more than the one marshmallow. I know I ate
at least one, because Beverly sidled over and pointed to a tiny smear
of dark marshmallow on my upper lip.

She smacked my hand down, and got Jeric into the conversation.

"You see?" she asked. "Right there. Don't you see it? Yes, right
there.

"Why don't you come over here and kiss it off for her?"

Vulcans crawl slowly. I know. I waited for damnedest long time for him
to reach me.

And get on his haunches and bring his face near mine.

And lean towards me as I leaned towards him until we were breathing
each other's air.

Bev bumped me and I fell into his mouth.

We kissed for the longest time.

He didn't need any lessons in how to kiss Earth girls. So I guess we
must all be easy after all. He'd past experience to draw on. So okay.
Us Earth Girls ARE easy. Shoot me.

At some point I drew him closer to me so I didn't have to lean forward
and up so much. At some point I took his hand and let it weigh and
caress the one breast and then the other. At some point I moaned into
his mouth and he asked in a whisper whether his hand was hurting me.
At some point I put my hand behind his head (his hair so dark and
stiff looking and so fluffy and soft) and bit his lips. He bit back,
and it hurt, and I knew I bled and I wondered if his other mother was
part Klingon.

But it was okay. Everything was okay. He let me force my tongue into
his mouth a wee little bit, and I enjoyed his teeth and the taste of
him and the taste of my blood. I hurt, but it was all so exciting.

I opened one eye as I bent back and rolled flat beneath him. Beverly
blew a kiss at me, she was upright, and gathering the dogs to put them
out in the kitchen. The doors locked there. It was warm there, and the
dogs might grumble, but we'd parked them there many a time so we could
play games downstairs.

She was doing this favor for me, us, and I moaned and shut my eye so I
could appreciate the feel of him getting stiff as I massaged him
through his trousers with my hand. When I looked again, when Jeric was
loosing my breasts from my bra, Beverly and the dogs were both long
gone.

The dogs got the rest of the chuck roast and Beverly shut herself into
the master bedroom. She also put the red satin sheets on the guest
bed, but I didn't know that until much later. I was too much into the
now to think.

It's always memorable when you can get so wound up into whatever
you're doing at the moment that you're confused afterwards as to the
sequence of events elsewhere.

This was memorable. Us Earth girls might be easy, but Jeric was one
Vulcan who didn't need to go into Pon Farr to enjoy one of us.

He did the every-woman's-dream thing to me, there on the warm itchy
faux-bearskin rug in front of the fireplace and it's crackling
hardwood fire. He peeled me like a vintner peeling each individual
grape so that THIS wine would be the world's best. His mouth was
everywhere, his hands rough or gentle, coaxing or insistent, and his
damnably strong mouth was everywhere and everywhere again.

I'd already come twice by the time he stood and removed the last of
his own clothes. I strained my legs opening myself for him, I grunted
as he slid into me without the faintest hint of resistance or pain, I
turned part Klingon myself and bit his neck as I came again on his
long dark-olive skinned insistent instrument of passion.

I came twice more before he whispered to my exhausted face that if I
wanted to, he could come now for me.

Goddamned Vulcan body control.

It was hard, but rationality prompted me to eep something at him which
he took as a yes.

It felt SSSOOOOOOOOO wonderful when his seed-planter jerked and spit
inside me. It had been a while, so it was hard to make a comparison,
but Vulcan sperm was slightly cooler than homo sapient jism. I
resolved to test my theory a few more times, in the future. For the
sake of scientific precision -- only -- I wanted to feel him come
inside me again and again.

Admirals have been known to stretch the truth a wee bit.

How long was he due to stay Earthside before he had to go back to the
RAMILLES?

He scooped my helpless body up like Tatiana's teddy bear and I
directed him how to go upstairs and find the guest bedroom. It was
there I was greeted with the sight of red satin sheets staring me in
the face.

He tossed me onto that debauched symbol of sinful lust and slithered
all over me as I was still bouncing.

I asked him if he had any problems with oral sex, and he was almost
between my legs with his leer before I could explain to him what I
wanted. I mentally noted the datum that he hadn't any compunctions
about licking me even though I was still drippy with his own
baby-making juice. And had smiled.

Again Vulcan body control came into play. He got nice and stiff for me
and I bent over him with evil intent.

Fortunately I explained to him beforehand I wasn't going for an
endurance record. Just for a mouthful of Vulcan juice.

It was a little funny as we kept having to interrupt my dedicated
labors as he asked if I wanted him to come now or later? About the
fourth query I told him he could come now and he should give me all he
could.

Admiral Janeway is a very oral slut, she is. She loves the feel of a
good male in her mouth. And yeah, he was cooler.

And the night was just beginning.

Later I discovered he liked to do it in my rear.

Que sera, sera. Whatever Jeric wanted.

---

Actually it was easy to hold back the tears. This had been a great fun
time for me, apart from a little soreness in my heinie. A smile came
easy to me when contemplating our days and nights together. And I was
enthusiastic enough about his lust for my rear end, but a lot of sex
lube didn't always guarantee a comfortable penetration. Que sera,
sera.

Bev did quite enough blubbering for the both of us. Mothers.

It had been a good leave. At least for me. Bev had gotten the chance
to be motherly here and there, but the nights and not a few afternoons
were for me and Jeric.

Until now.

Bev had insisted on us going out to the S-O field in Lake Michigan
when he went. They were running the RAMILLES with a less-than-skeleton
crew right now, and unfortunately Jeric had to go back earlier than
many. But duty called, and it was Starfleet policy to go to a standard
retrieval point for transport. When possible. It hurt to realize I had
said good-bye to Samantha Wildman and especially Naomi Wildman right
here, years ago.

I was beginning to associate this passenger platform with the loss of
lovers.

Bev held me, she had to blow her nose a few times, and then she said;
"Well, we just have time to catch the Istanbul-San Francisco flight if
we move our rears."

San Francisco?

Bev was taking the opportunity of being here to go visit a few friends
at Starfleet. We shifted to the passenger platform with ten other
passengers and were beamed aboard the Sub-Orbital flight going by
overhead.

Yes, definitely, life with Mother Beverly must have been an unending
series of adventures.

No baggage. She had already laid in for a Dienstmann (an ex-lesbian
lover she'd hired before for this very same type of job) to look after
the dogs whilst we were elsewhere.

In an hour I was staring through the mist at Gea Island, once
Alcatraz, and Bev was waving wildly at our host.

I'd met Deanna Troi once or thrice before, back when I was involved in
bringing VOYAGER out of the Delta Quadrant. She had grown not a day
older, but then Betazoids were notorious for longevity.

Now I looked at her the way a lesbian always looks at a pretty girl.
With a lech.

It had been an eventful life so far. And still going strong.

Beverly had left no doubt in my mind that one of her goals in this
trip was to renew old ties with an old girlfriend. That wasn't a
genteel kiss the two exchanged. But then I'd already heard, decades
ago, that she and THE Doctor Crusher had been lovers once.

A little scandal always made such juicy gossip.

Deanna didn't strike me as adverse to the notion of renewing old ties
with her one-time lover. When she came up for air and leered nicely at
the new girl, I suddenly realized that Beverly had meant to include me
in any re-awakening of dykey ties between the two gals.

Which told me Troi wasn't adverse to the idea of a nice orgy. Because
she'd already made the connection and was scoping out the new girl,
which was me.

Damn!

I was already tingly thinking about it.

Life with the Dancing Doctor was about to write a new chapter.

"Katie, dear," Bev coaxed, "I'm sure dearest Deanna here would LOVE to
see how well I've taught you how to kiss. Why don't you come over here
and knock her socks off?"

I liked girls my size. It meant we could sixty-nine easier. But that
would be later. After we fought tongues a little bit.

Troi couldn't keep her aged Betazoid hands off my bod. It was
difficult, but I decided to allow her a few fondles. Just because she
was an old friend of Bev's.

She had a surprisingly firm butt. I wondered if it was a Betazoid
trait. I think her tongue was longer too. Certainly she could twist
the tip around and make it do interesting things. Bev clung close, to
hide the action, and she groped Deanna and Deanna groped me.

Yes, it was definitely orgy time.

---

The next morning Deanna introduced me to her paired sexercise
bicycles.

The exerciser/victim sat down on one end of an exotic ramp bike. You
pedaled and your butt was brought forward and you rode the ramp. The
ramp rapidly approached becoming a sharp divide.

Deanna sat her juicy groin down on that thing and began pedaling. Her
body rubbed itself up and down on that on that divide and you could
get yourself off.

Actually it was scrumptious. On her recommendation I put on one of her
unitards and straddled the deadly looking machine. On my first pedal
the divide swam back into my groin. As I pedaled more and more it
moved underneath me. Opening me up. Masturbating me.

Deanna gigglingly indicated the squeeze of lube taped to the handle
post. A few full cycles of that divide moving up and down underneath
me and I was going faster and faster. Faster and faster. Mouth
dropping open and letting the good times roll over my mind and send it
into confusion.

I exercised like a mad woman for a good half hour, enjoying the O's
rolling over and over me.

Bev just about tossed me off the thing bodily once I whispered
'Enough!'. Deanna joined me on the floor shortly after that, where we
kissed and she massaged my nipples and breasts through the cloth. We
watched Beverly get a good morning's exercise and stumbled off to bed.

Like I had anticipated, it was easy to sixty-nine with Deanna. It just
so happened, however, that neither one of us was able to do much
serious sex at that moment. When Bev eventually joined us we all slept
instead.

Deanna did indeed have a nice firm ass, especially for a lady just
past a hundred and ten years old.

---

Next morning Deanna was easing off the bed when I turned my head to
her. I made a stab at pulling her back for another session of lust,
but she wriggled away and stood to stride out the door of her bedroom.

This was vacationing and traveling the easy way. It had been two
nights and a day and I had yet to have to buy anything new to wear. I
hadn't even needed the old stuff I'd arrived in.

I'd worn a few dildos in that time, but they were all Deanna's. One
size fits all, sort of. But not many.

Deanna really loved to use her mouth, and she was such a delightful
little pussy licker. Us Starfleet gals were all pretty oral, I
thought, but Deanna strived to raise cunnilingus to an exalted art
form. Or maybe an Olympic sport.

I could see that. Male and female competitions. But use the same girls
as the 'goal' in both male and female events. Never going to happen.
Though I'd volunteer to be one of the goals.

Deanna was such a delightful little alien.

"Is it breakfast already?" Beverly moaned.

"I think so, but it's late afternoon. I think. If you want anything
more substantial to chew on besides me, you're going to have to get
up. You know how Deanna is about crumbs and such in her bed. I shan't
be allowed to bring you back anything from the table."

Bev muttered something and rolled back to facing the balcony's French
doors. I snagged a robe for the warmth and slogged into the
kitchenette.

Something was being baked while Deanna answered her absolutely
necessary mail. We kissed and she fondled the insides of my thighs.
Delightful little alien!

"I'm going to have to take a break and go back to work tomorrow. We
have to debrief someone just back from the Harmony worlds. The
Friendlies."

I murmured commiseration's, and got the butter and jams out of the
stasis box. It smelled like rolls. Big fluffy rolls.

"It's one of your old shipmates, by the way. That big lovely Borg
girl. Annika Hansen. She was Seven of Nine, wasn't she?"

When I dropped the jar of Evasberry Jam, it didn't break, just about
nothing did these days. But the sweet sticky stuff was spread out all
over a large area of the kitchenette floor.

Seven!!!

---

continued in the seventh story in the Aide Memorie series 'Ardent'