Chapter 28: High Fantasy
The next morning, I woke shortly after dawn to the noise of internal combustion: generators, jeeps, and jalopies.
Rather than try to get back to sleep with the tent’s fabric utterly failing to attenuate all the racket violating the campground’s quiet-time rules, I carefully extracted myself from the sleeping bag, nearly waking Kaitlyn with the rush of cold air over her backside. I managed to tuck her in and soothe her back to sleep without magic.
If I woke her while wiggling into a clean bike outfit, bare butt and feet on the cold polyester tent floor, lacking room to move freely, she gave no sign.
After slipping gingerly out of the tent and re-sealing it to avoid letting in too much cold morning air, I took care of a few necessaries and sprinted to the house on my bike through the early stirrings of morning traffic, getting home only fifteen minutes after leaving the campground. I’d pushed hard to achieve it, wanting to get back to camp before anyone missed me.
Moab’s traffic controls being what they are, I rolled back into camp in my FJ half an hour after I booked out on my bike; literally rolled, for I’d cut the engine and coasted the last few dozen meters in neutral to spare my fellow outdoor enthusiasts some noise.
Molly was cooking breakfast in the motor home.
“Close the door!” she whispered sharply at me as I came in. “You’re gonna freeze my ass off!”
And no wonder, for she was letting it hang out bare in the cool morning air. “We certainly wouldn’t want that,” I teased, stroking it with one morning-cold hand per cheek, adding, “We want your ass right where it is.”
She let out a “Yeep!” at my touch, flinching forward with a slap against the counter.
“Just a few seconds more,” I pleaded, “and I’ll get warmed right up.” I ran my hands around her hips, up her belly, and began warming my mitts on her mammaries, stilling them from their wobbling as she whipped up the egg batter for French toast.
I heard a bit of low laughter from my right: Norman was watching my antics, waving me onward, enjoying the show. “Good morning,” I bade him.
“A very good morning indeed,” he said, grinning wider as I bounced her breasts comically.
Another cold blast of air washed over my bare hostess, Kaitlyn catching me red-handed. Brown-handed? Whatever.
“Oho!” she cried. “You abandon my bed and go straight for the next nearest set of knockers, I see!”
“C’mere, Kaitlyn,” said Norman before I could come up with a witty reply, “I’ll bounce your boobs for you.”
She executed a kind of horizontal limbo move to get past us in the narrow aisle, rotating her head to track me to make sure I saw her broad grin, then turned to Norman and straddled his hips, her silk robe parting to show her bare hips and sculpted bush. My wife gave him a brief lap dance, artfully revealing the rest of herself, unbelting the robe and slipping it off her shoulders as Norman got her C-cups circling charmingly, imparting motion with hips, thighs, and hands. The robe soon slid disregarded onto the floor.
Kaitlyn slowly lowered herself over Norman, her breasts becoming more pendulous until from about six inches away, she asked him plaintively, “No good-morning kiss?”
Norman declaimed, “Yes, a kiss on your lips is exactly what you need!” He pulled her the rest of the way down to himself, but he guided her head to the side of his own and rolled with her. On top now, he rose, knee-walked himself into a 180° turn facing the other way down the length of the bed, bent, and licked her lady lips a few times each, drawing a happy sigh. My wife grabbed his butt and pulled him down into a lazy 69, a position they maintained until we had hot food on the table.
With that as our background entertainment, I peeled my biking outfit off to help Molly cook, taking mama Mary’s lesson to heart: it’s easier to clean up cooking mess with a quick shower than a change of clothing!
“I thought you said you didn’t dress for breakfast,” Molly began.
I explained, “I had to fetch mi burro. It’s just an odd curiosity of local law that streaking the town on a bike is even less socially acceptable than streaking a campground. Otherwise, I’d’ve worn my silk robe over from the tent, too.”
After Molly made me tell her about the FJ, I gave a belated apology, “Anyway, Molly, that’s why my hands were so cold: the dawn sprint across town followed by a drive too short for the FJ’s heater to warm the cab.”
His mind not entirely on his task, Norman lifted his face out of my wife’s garden long enough to chuckle, “The way you jumped, babe…!”
We smiled in memory as we buttered the French toast while it was still hot.
With the excuse of saving water, Molly talked me into taking a quick shower with her to knock the cooking mess off. The tight confines of the mobile home’s shower almost made it impossible, but once soaped up, we found we were able to move quite smoothly within the small space, never once losing skin-to-skin contact. More fun than a box full of kittens!
Kaitlyn was on top again and moaning a duet with Norman when we got out of our brief shower, drip-drying in the heated RV air. I was going to let them finish, not least because I’d enjoy the show, but Kaitlyn disengaged, calling “Breakfast time!” and bouncing out of bed.
Norman looked about to object, but Molly played along with my wife’s tease, saying, “Move it, hon, it’s getting cold!”
He groaned in frustration, his saliva-slicked erection giving one last twitch before he followed Kaitlyn, the pair crowding in with us around the small galley table, my wife taking my side not out of marital duty but to give Norman a buffered view of her bare breasts, continuing to wind him up.
After breakfast, Kaitlyn and Norman begged a need for their own showers, which they did together, parroting our pious water conservation justification.
While they banged around in there giggling and rocking the RV, Molly opined, “Norman will enjoy your…burro, you called it? He talks about getting a Jeep, but he never actually goes out and gets one. It’s probably best if you two just drive him around. It’ll either sate him for a while or get him off his butt and down to the dealership.” She looked thoughtful, then asked, “It’s only got room for three though, right?”
“Yes, that is a bit of a problem.”
“Oh, I could read or something. I don’t much like off-roading. I just get motion sick and then want to go home while everyone else is still having fun.”
I told her, “Kaitlyn’s a better trail guide than me; comes from growing up here. What if we split into pairs, and I stay here with you?”
“And what will you do then?” she asked coyly.
“Oh, I suppose we could find something to do together,” I returned with a gentle smile.
Our spouses emerged from the shower still dripping, Norman’s unsatisfied erection back and bouncing, the pair exchanging wet gropes and broad smiles while we told them our plan.
“Sounds good,” my tease of a wife said, leaning down to pick up her discarded silk robe. “I’ll go get dressed. Norm, as your guide, I suggest shorts, a tee shirt and Tevas; it’ll be hot by mid-day.”
Norman’s erection was still visible through his shorts when Kaitlyn arrived to take him off-roading.
Molly & Davie
Once we were alone, Molly asked me, “Now exactly what did you have in mind?”
“Myself, I might make Molly’s matronly mammaries move mesmerisingly by mashing her majestic minge with my mallet.”
She laughed in delight, rewarding the effort that’d gone into my preparation and delivery. “Sounds promising,” she admitted.
“We did fifteen orgasms in fifteen minutes already. How about fifteen in four hours or so?”
“Twenty,” she bargained.
“I do believe I can manage that.”
We did more than just spend the whole morning screwing soft and slow. I used the experience to test out my newly expanded reservoir. It was fully powered up, so I emptied it upon her body generally with no specific target shortly after I pressed myself through her soft genital folds. This caused an immediate orgasm, so I grinned and said, “One.”
“My god, you are an absolute stud!” she breathed after her spasms calmed.
“We aim to please here at Magic Member Massage,” I joked.
She just laughed in return, so I got about recharging from the energy of our coupling.
In completing that, I made a physical survey of her body, finding that her digestive system was a little dodgy, so I dumped the next load of magic into her viscera, kicking off her fourth orgasm, the prior two achieved along the way with careful feedback from her body’s reactions to my strokes. I unloaded myself into her sexually as well, making the working extra-powerful.
After coming back down, she said, “Oooh, you do me so well! I almost feel guilty!”
“Don’t be. Kaitlyn’s doubtless doing much the same with Norman right now, and at the end of this weekend, we’ll be going our separate ways, leaving you with happy memories while we all get back to our normal lives. I’m not stealing you from Norman, and he’s not stealing my wife from me. We’re just friends, making each other happy.”
“Friends with definite benefits!” she sighed.
I agreed, though she only knew the half of it.
After perhaps fifteen minutes of cuddling, stroking, and kissing, my glans once again gently kissed her cervix before pulling back into a series of short rapid strokes along her g-spot, pushing her into a fifth quick orgasm.
I found that I was able to refill my new higher reserve capacity repeatedly. As far as I could tell, it was permanently increased, much as a woman’s breasts get bigger during her first pregnancy and while nursing. I wondered if Kaitlyn and I could do this to each other again, making our reserves even bigger? Was it dangerous? Maybe we’d hold off on that for a few months.
Meanwhile, I had a mission.
I built up each load of magic from the very energy of our sexual congress and dumped it into a focused area of Molly’s body: upper torso, lower torso, head, and limbs. I imagined my workings as a long sawtooth wave, climbing steadily to a peak before falling precipitously, crashing orgasmically to the bottom, only to climb again.
Climb and crash, climb and crash, I healed everything I could find. Some healings I did with pure magic, and some I combined into sex magic, releasing another load of hot semen into her mature love tunnel. Along the way, I trickled a bit of power into her pussy, keeping it slick and sensitive without allowing it to become inflamed.
And so it was that about half an hour before lunch, Molly seven magic loads and three seminal loads richer, I breathed “Twenty” into her ear as her rippling resumed around my throbbing member, ripping a guttural “Mmmmmnnnnggggrraaaaah!” cry from me as I filled her passage to overflowing, emptying myself into her.
I kept my cock stiff for a few more minutes as I kissed her mouth deeply, enjoying our connections below and above, our tongues battling. I didn’t break the kiss until after I let loose my control over my erection and slipped limply out of her semen-slicked scabbard.
I rolled to her side and pulled her panting sweat-sheened body into a spooning position with me, letting her speak first.
“That was utterly amazing,” she said. “I didn’t even know that was possible.”
“I do come from the land of the Kama Sutra,” I reminded her, hoping to keep her reflection on this session superficial.
“What was that theory your wife told us back at the Christmas party? Something about you being raised in a brothel and getting extra after-school lessons from all of your aunties?”
I just laughed quietly, my mirth wobbling her matronly D-cups.
She continued more seriously, “Carolyn told me what you did for her.”
“Dr. Condon?” I asked uncertainly.
“That’s right. She was most complimentary of your skills, but she didn’t say you did anything to her like what we just did.”
“My session with her was simply different, Molly. She needed a sort of sexual healing, and I gave it to her. She was also both demanding and needy. You and I… Well, I just don’t think you actually needed any of this. It was just a fun thing for us to do on this long weekend, two friends enjoying each other, right? I don’t think we would have had as much fun, oh, playing chess together, let us say, but I think it would have been an option for us in a way that it wouldn’t have been with me and Dr. Condon.”
“You were her hired servant, there to do a job,” she said, nodding in understanding.
“That’s how I saw it.”
“Whereas with me, you’re just my friend the wizard, doing tricks with his magic staff to amuse me on a quiet vacation day.”
She’d hit awfully close to home with that. Was it coincidence, or was she fishing? Maybe she was just keying off our new business’ name and my reference to it earlier?
I decided not to speak, just kissed her three times on the neck in thanks, collarbone to jawline, then slipped silently into a postcoital nap with her.
Kaitlyn & Norman
We were waiting for the traffic light at the junction of Utah 128 and US 191. I’d intended to take him up to the Jeep trails above our house, so I was signalling left, waiting for the light to turn green.
“Tell me your most wished-for sexual fantasy, Norm, one you could never do with Molly, but which you dearly wish you could. I don’t mean something super strange and kinky, I mean something that just isn’t coming together for you even though it should be possible.”
He was still thinking when I got the green, so he had to raise his voice over the increasing roar of Davie’s FJ as I accelerated down into town.
“Public sex,” he said. “I want to bang Molly long and hard outdoors somewhere, yet somehow not get caught. I have no idea where to get that done in Salt Lake, and I’m pretty sure she’d refuse if I somehow worked that detail out and asked her to do it with me.”
“Do you want to see or be seen?” I asked him over the FJ’s lowering roar, our path down the highway letting me ease up on the throttle now that we were up to speed.
“If I understand your question, you’re asking if I’m an exhibitionist or if I just want all the limits of propriety somehow lifted?”
“That’s a fair interpretation,” I said over the engine noise.
“Then the latter.”
And with that answer, I began re-planning my route. We’d be turning left up ahead, not right, headed back out of town on the Sand Flats Road.
Half an hour later, the FJ’s engine was silent but for ticks and pings as it cooled down in the desert spring air.
“Cool spot,” he observed, “but what brought us here specifically?”
“Two things,” I replied. “First, the view over the town. They shoot off the 4th of July fireworks somewhere up here, so they rain down on the town. See that big park down there?” I pointed, and he nodded. “That’s where most of the town gathers, but we usually watch from our family farm, out that way,” I said, pointing several miles down the valley.
“Those radio towers. This is also a great place to rebroadcast signals from the bigger cities down into the valley. I happen to know that that one right there,” I said, pointing once again, “has a platform near its top for technicians to use while working on the radio electronics; we’ve got a winch with a hook on the end that I can use to pull the retractable ladder down.”
His eyes started getting wide.
“Yeah, we’re going up there, and I’m gonna make your dreams come true, see if I don’t!”
Five minutes later, we were naked, a hundred feet above the bluff top and several hundred feet above the valley floor, and Norman was easing his stiff cock into my pussy, slow and gentle, his renewed randiness battling a desire to prolong the experience. Between his internal struggles and the burgeoning ecstasy, I felt his hands tremble on my hips, raised up toward him in doggy, him kneeling behind me and looking alternately at my bared backside and the public vista spread before him.
I’d pulled an emergency wool blanket from behind the truck’s seats and brought it up with us to provide some padding, folding it twice to cushion the platform’s brutal expanded metal surface, so it wouldn’t tear our skin up. It wasn’t the most comfortable place I’d gotten laid, but it was definitely one of the most spectacular!
Norman pushed increasingly quickly into me, losing the willpower to resist his urges. I was well aware that he didn’t have Davie’s bodily control, so I resisted stimulating him more than simple friction provided. It’d be a short ride even so.
He managed to last three minutes before I sensed him tensing up and slowing to edge his orgasm, so I released all of my magic into him, intending to sneak its ecstatic release into his growing euphoria, but it pushed him instantly over the precipice.
“Grrrrrrrrrrrraaaaaaaawww!” he yelled, as if he intended to announce his triumph to the Moab citizenry from our tower.
He collapsed over my back, resting most of his weight on me, so that I couldn’t lay down myself without risk of dumping him over the edge of the tower’s working platform. Shortly, I began leaking his seed upon the blanket.
As he recovered, he began apologetically, “I’m so sorry; I tried to edge it, but… You’re just utterly awesome Kaitlyn, and…”
“What makes you think we’re done?”
“The fact that I’m 49 and that I’ve just turned my balls inside out and squeezed them dry, that’s what,” he replied drolly.
“You just lay back and we’ll see about that. I’ll eat that sagebrush down there if I can’t get you hard again in minutes.”
And with that, I proceeded to give the world’s riskiest pole dance: a hundred feet up, my exotic dancer’s pole festooned with microwave dishes!
As I got my dance on high above the desert valley floor, I used the last of my reserves — the few spoonfuls of magic generated by Norman’s last few strokes into my love tunnel — to maintain the heightened body awareness that nature mages are gifted with while nude in nature. The tower and nearby electronics were trying to suck my magic away from me, but I was using this magic passively, not trying to cast spells out from the tower, so my scant reserves bled off slowly. I was graceful, lithe, and so sexy I got my own self wet!
As I gyrated, shimmied, rippled, spun, leapt, kicked, and writhed around the platform’s triangulated supports, Norman stiffened, fully hard five minutes after I started my dance.
Satisfied, I slid into missionary beneath him, legs wide apart as I bade him, “Plow my fertile field.”
“Ahhh, gladly; most gladly!” he breathed and began Round 2.
Fifteen minutes later, he was getting close to the edge again, so I told him, “Slow down; if you can hold your ejaculation off until the sun is there,” I said, pointing along the arc of its travel to where I estimated it would be in another 10–15 minutes, “you’ll win a second wish from me.”
That position caused his cock to rub my clit as he slid in and out of me, so I had a difficult time edging my own orgasm. I held it off only because I didn’t want to push him over his own edge. I wanted to give him an honest shot at the challenge I’d set him, so I hung on, waiting for his own natural completion.
We were both sweaty, grunting, and occasionally wailing as we held onto our control, approaching the edge several times, nearly falling over.
“That’s it, it’s all I’ve got,” he panted at me, so I said, “Go for it. You got your wish.”
He began pounding me rapidly, no longer trying to hold back, and I let myself go as well, dragging him over the foaming falls of fulfilment with me.
“Yeeeeeeiiiiiiiieeeeee, Norman!” I squeed up at him, attempting to pull him down to me, his arms stiff as cement pillars, so that I simply ended up suspended from him, hanging from shoulders above and our coupling point below.
“Aaaaaahhhhhhhhaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiggggh!” he cried out into the Moab valley as he pumped me full of his love juice once again.
Simultaneously, I released another reserve full of magic up into his body, focusing on his reproductive system, healing the irritation of our long pounding session, helping him to regenerate and push past the coming refractory period faster than he otherwise might. This had the side effect of prolonging his orgasm, causing his head to snap back and the cords along the sides of his neck to stand out in blazing ecstasy.
Slowly he relaxed over the next half a minute, almost flopping down beside me in exhaustion.
“Ye bloody gods,” he breathed. “I have never come that hard in my life!”
“Good fantasy?” I said, attempting to deflect him from the actual cause.
He began laughing long and hard, perhaps in part from my little joke, but also from the endorphins flooding his system, I was sure.
It was infectious: I began to laugh hard, too!
We napped postcoitally for perhaps half an hour. He woke me with a caress down my bare flank, around my hip, up my gluteal cleft, along my back, around the side, and over my upper breast.
I snuggled back into him, finding him to be hard again, so I said, “And what is your second wish, my middle-aged Aladdin?”
“Molly’s never been able to deep-throat me. She ends up gagging, and that turns me off, so we hardly ever have oral sex.” He mimed a deflating erection with two fingers by way of illustration, then added, “Her on me, I mean. Other way around, different story: I eat her out most times we make love. I’m not exactly feeling put upon by that difference, but…”
Wordlessly, I got up into a kneeling position, gestured him to his feet, and slurped his salami right down, my Gaia powers allowing me to reshape my throat and keep control over my reflexes and breath enough that I didn’t gag, just swallowed him root-deep.
I sucked him down and left him there, I polished his pole, I played his clarinet. Every way fellatio could be done, I did to him, so that his third orgasm of the morning was also with Moab fully in sight, and us in principle visible to all of Moab; those with telescopes, anyway!
“Nnnggggggghhhhhhhhyyyeeeeeeahh!” he cried as his flagging jets of semen slid down my esophagus, his clenched buns gripped tight in my hands, his own hands interweaved with my hair, me holding him to my face, he holding my face to himself.
Through some mutual silent exchange, we released our hold on each other about a minute later, my lips wrapped tight around his slackening cock, so that I cleaned him off as he slid out.
“Best blowjob ever,” he said, then kissed me on the mouth, deep and hard, accepting some of his own semen in return. “I don’t just mean me personally. I’ve seen a fair number of porn flicks, and I’ve never seen anything as good as what you’ve just done for me in any of them. For all I know, you just gave me a Guinness Record Book worthy blow job!”
“You’re too kind,” I replied, trying for ‘demure,’ but probably failing.
“I’m utterly serious is what I am,” he said, giving me an all-over caress.
He sat with his legs spread to about a 60 degree angle, hands propping him up behind his back, fully open to view from above, the blanket and platform concealing us from below. We were simultaneously in full view of the entire city of Moab yet also functionally invisible, just as he’d wished to be.
I sat gingerly down into the space before him, my lower legs dangling over the work platform, his arms wrapping protectively around me while we watched the day tick by for the microscopic citizenry below.
Some time later, I said, “For being so nice to me, your genie grants you a third wish. What is it, sirrah?”
“Wow!” he breathed quietly, drawing the word out slowly. “I’ll have to think about that one.”
I just let the desert wind shish over our bare bodies, so I was almost surprised when he finally spoke again.
“Molly…she’s never let me have her ass. I don’t push for it, you know, but every time I’ve hinted at it, she’s always just pushed the idea aside. Would you do that for me, Kaitlyn? You can totally say ‘no,’ but…”
I reached out to one of the tower’s uprights, grabbed it, rotated my body out in space, around the pole, and back to the other side, then knelt there beside him in the same upright pose as I’d taken shortly before, motioning him to his feet again.
He took my cue, and I gave him a short sloppy blow job, lubing him up as best as I could manage in the dry desert air.
We rearranged ourselves, me once again in doggy position, he behind me, and I loosened my sphincter to invite him comfortably inside. I willingly gave up my anal virginity to a good friend; I was certain Davie wasn’t going to be jealous.
He slid into me slowly, clearly worried that he might hurt me, not knowing of my power to control my body’s musculature, so that in the end — hah! — he was able to slide into my back passage as smoothly as into my love tunnel.
He shortly began pumping, grunting more animalistically than before, the difference in lubrication and texture clearly giving him a new sensation.
It didn’t do a whole lot for me, so I reached down and began fiddling with my little bean, causing my muscles down there to clench in building orgasm, affecting Norman’s sensation in turn, so that it wasn’t ten minutes later that we were flying out over the fields of unfettered freedom, his cock jammed into my ass as far as it would go, his warm seed coating my colon.
He was staring out over the city vista, drinking in the last of his initial fantasy, but my eyes were down looking through our thighs, so I saw the approaching dust cloud before he did.
“Time to go, Norman. Quickly now!” I said, pointing out the off-roader roaring over the bluff-top in our direction.
We pulled on our clothes in as rapid a scramble as we could manage, threw the blanket in a flutter down ahead of us, and scampered down the ladder. I just barely got Davie’s ride into reverse when the other off-roaders — a couple in a classic Jeep CJ-5 — pulled up beside us. The driver said, “Hi!” out of its doorless side at us.
“Can’t stay,” I called through the dust cloud he’d brought with him, “but if you can work out a way to get up there, it’s a great view! See ya!”
And with that, I put the hammer down, holding back only enough to avoid throwing a cloud of dust over our interlopers, hitting it hard once we were well out of there.
In the rear view, I saw the driver optimistically throwing a bright yellow tow rope up at the tower’s retractable ladder, clearly trying to hook a rung.
I smiled broadly.
A mile down the dirt road Norman said, “That was frickin’ awesome!” as I pulled off to the side.
I popped the gear shift into neutral, shoved in the emergency brake, and got out, leaving the keys in the ignition, and walked around to the other side, telling my passenger, “Time to teach you to drive.”
“A bit presumptuous, doncha think, missy?” he smirked at me.
“Wait’ll you try it. Davie’s little beast is…recalcitrant. Now slide over, and let’s get started.”
Norman picked up the tricky bits of operating the old FJ readily enough, so we were soon roaring down the Jeep roads outside Moab ourselves, me acting as navigator, and Norman having a great time exploring without any of that apprehension you get when you have no idea where you’re going or how you’ll get back to town.
I guided him on a roundabout path that had us dropping off the back side of the bluff and curving around the north side of town so that we eventually picked up Utah 128 again, which we took back down to the campground, pulling in just about lunch time.
We shared our stories over lunch, no details held back.
And it was sharing, not bragging. No one felt resentful: neither Davie nor Molly wanted to take a trip to the tower, and neither Norman nor I were jealous of how those two spent their morning instead.
Norman and Davie actually spent more time talking about the FJ, Norman quizzing him on all of the little things my hubby’d had to do to keep the beast on the road. It had very low mileage for its age, but for a machine so exotic, almost every small bit of maintenance is a challenge. Our local small-town NAPA doesn’t stock many parts for a vehicle that was hardly sold in the USA at all, much less one that’s about as old as the median age of the shop’s staff. Almost everything has to be ordered in or bodged to fit.
“Sounds like just the sort of challenge I’m looking for,” Norman said with a determined grin. “Jeeps are easy. I need something that’ll fill my copious free time.”
They spent the rest of lunch alternately shopping online for available Land Cruisers and cursing the state of the Internet service here. We were only about a mile and a half out of town, but we were up a deep sandstone canyon, the sort of place where cell phone signals go to die.
Molly and I just grinned and shook our heads at our men occasionally. Such a strange species!
After lunch, we played with virtual cars instead, the Alexanders introducing us to a classic French card game from the mid–1950s called Mille Bornes, meaning “thousand milestones.” I characterized it as “Uno with cars,” having the same screw-over-your-opponents gameplay mechanic that works well among true friends, people who won’t get too mad at you for playing well, not even when the banter that such games foster gets comically heated, with anguished cries and shouts.
Several times through the game, we got to laughing and smiling so hard that by the end, our faces hurt!
Kaitlyn & Davie
We spent the rest of the day in relaxed play with the Alexanders, getting to bed early.
In the tent with Davie spooning me from behind, I used our full-body contact to ask, «How many times did you empty your reserves into Molly?» knowing the thin fabric between us and any passers-by wouldn’t prevent us from being overheard.
«Oh, something like half a dozen times. Seven, maybe? I did mention her 20-orgasm challenge to me, did I not?»
I replied, «You did. Norman didn’t quite manage that with me, but I thought dragging four pops out of a middle-aged guy over a few hours’ span was pretty good.»
«Most impressive,» he returned.
I ground my buns into his developing rigidity to encourage it along, telling him. «I dumped my full magical reserve into Norman with each of his orgasms, and I was able to regenerate all the power I used afterward from the buildup to the next one. This reserve size increase appears permanent, Davie.»
He sent back, «Cool! I want to live with this change for a while before we try to make it bigger. I worry that there could be a consequence from trying to push it too hard too fast: if what we did was to expand our reserves to their maximum and then average our sizes out with the reverberating explosion at orgasm, that feels like an exponential growth curve.»
I replied, «Not sure I follow, Davie.»
«Okay, let’s say we started out with a normal reserve size each before we expanded them. Let’s call that value r. We’ve previously guessed that the barrier-shoving technique was good for about a 10× power multiplier, so 10r, right?»
«Elementary,» I agreed.
«Now, I think I might have had a bigger reserve than you did to begin with, if only from my greater experience, but I’m pretty sure we equalized our differences through an analog of the ideal gas law. Two air tanks connected together equalize in pressure, regardless of starting pressures or differing volumes, right?»
«Plausible,» I judged. I was the scientist in this relationship, but I thought my Igor was doing just fine on his own so far.
He continued, «My worry is that if we do the barrier-shoving thing again, we’ll be able to apply another 10× multiplier over our new limit, which could mean we stabilize our new relaxed limit at a hundred times its initial size. Next step is 100r², so ten thousand, and so on. It escapes toward infinity fast!»
Ecologist that I am, I replied, «There are no unlimited exponential curves in nature, Davie, only temporary ones that run up against some limit because there isn’t infinite matter, space, or energy for a natural system to consume. A resource-constrained growth curve typically either plateaus into a broad S as the system reaches some sort of equilibrium with consumption balancing resource production, or it collapses catastrophically.»
«Exactly, Kaitlyn!» Then he went on seriously, «I cannot get the image of a burst balloon, forever unable to hold air out of my head. No, mama’s bright little boy Davie will not be exploding his magical reserve any time soon, thank you very much. I like being a mage too dearly to risk such a calamity. Maybe someday when we have thousands of mages and can afford to lose a few, someone more foolhardy than me will try this, but not me, not today.»
I thought he might be right, but I didn’t see any way to take the thought further, so I attempted to distract him from his fretting, asking, «Check my limit against yours.»
Davie just pulled me in tight and began slowly breathing in the scent of my hair.
He laughed sub-audibly, then I felt him caress my magical reserve.
«It feels about the same size as mine now.»
«Confirms your ideal gas law hypothesis,» I agreed. «The force of the sex magic released at orgasm had to equalize between us somehow. The only way one reserve would end up bigger than the other is if that one was somehow weakened by the contained explosion. I’m relieved they’re the same size now, rather than surprised.»
Davie thought about that, then replied, «You know what you should try next, Kaitlyn my love?»
“Mmmm?” I replied aloud.
«Try invisibility among technology again. It’s been one of your biggest weaknesses. Imagine if you’d been able to do the JRE job in Salt Lake without ever becoming visible!» he enthused, referring to one of my early exploits as Davie’s shishya where I’d had scarcely enough magic to streak an office building’s lobby, then had to sneak around naked and visible through the rest of the building like some kind of fictional bare-assed spy, ending up caught by a group of horny computer geeks working an after-hours project, chased out of the building, only managing to lose my last pursuer in a city park a few blocks down the street, visible until the last. If it wasn’t for that slice of quasi-nature in the middle of the city, I might not have gotten away at all! It was stranger than fiction, I tell you!
«Yeah,» was all I said to him back through the bond, shuddering with the memory of it.
«Make it an experiment; set a goal,» he encouraged me. «You know, I think I could jog invisibly all the way down to that park where we rested on yesterday’s ride with the new size of my reservoir.»
I had to think about that a second. It had to be at least a mile down-canyon, and my prior record for running nude in the night was…
Davie interrupted my worried musings, «Come with me! The biking path is mostly asphalt, which will make it a good test: let’s jog back down to that park! If it turns out that we can’t make it that far, we can simply step off the path and recharge or even jog for a bit in the dirt beside it.»
I mulled it some more, then wordlessly unzipped the sleeping bag, knelt in a low crouch beside it, got my invisibility bubble on with some difficulty, unzipped the tent flap, and leapt out onto the quasi-natural pounded dirt of our camping spot. Davie was right behind me, just as bare and just as invisible. He enfolded me in an embrace from behind, his still-stiff cock now folded up against the small of my back, his scritchy bearded chin nestled in the crook of my neck and shoulder. I leaned into both, and he tightened the embrace.
I sighed in contentment, then began to worry again. «Opening the tent put a big dent into my magic reserves,» I told him through the full-contact mage bond.
«The tent, zippers, and sleeping bag are all made of synthetics, and you touched it all on your way out. You will have an easier time when only the soles of your feet are in contact with technology, being the asphalt path paving. Besides, stamina takes more than just magical might: you also need practice in keeping your magic in tight to prevent it from draining away while you use it on a full-body spell like this. Follow me!»
And with that, we began running naked in the night, leaving behind only our faint footfalls as evidence that we’d ever been there, taking a stealthy jog out of the campground, picking up our pace to a full run once we got onto the pedestrian and bicycling path paralleling the highway, not another soul using it at this late hour, so we were able to run flat out, not caring how much noise we made now.
I had to jog off the asphalt path twice to recharge from nature, but Davie stayed on the path the whole way. Weird, but we made it!
Naturally, we weren’t wearing runner’s watches, so we had to reconstruct it from a map after the fact, estimating that we did the run in about 12 minutes. A seven minute mile’s pretty aggressive for a barefoot run on asphalt!
«This is amazing, Davie! The longest I’ve ever streaked invisible without contact with Gaia is like twenty seconds! I must have gone many minutes between needing to recharge.»
«My prior record was about five minutes, and I probably could have gone a few minutes more. That reverberating magic trick must have tripled my reserve size!» he exulted through the bond.
Then projecting a feeling of thoughtfulness along with the words, he asked, «But why did you have to recharge, Kaitlyn, when I didn’t? We have the same magical reservoir size, and we ran the same distance over the same path.»
«I left the path twice when I was almost dry, Davie, recharging as I ran. Maybe I just need practice, as you said? Maybe I let my magic flow out too far from my body, so the nearby tech creates a kind of drag on it.»
«Maybe,» he replied, then added, «or maybe there are affinities to types of magic. Have you never thought that it was odd that we have been so interchangeable in our abilities to this point? Why would that be the case when people are so different in all other respects? Maybe what we’re learning is that we’re still magical toddlers, so to speak, only now starting to differentiate our skills as we mature. Invisibility was one of the first skills I taught myself; it could be that I’m just naturally better at it than you. Stands to reason: you ought to have unique affinities, as different from me as you are.»
«Like what?» I replied. «What am I especially good at? I can’t think of a single thing.»
«You want a list?» he asked. «Item 1: being gorgeous; you are definitely way better at that than I am.»
«Oh, you!» I replied, but hugged him anyway, finding that he lost his erection on our run. «One thing is certain, Davie: I just short-cut years of development! I didn’t expect to have an invisibility reserve minutes long this soon.»
«We can test whether practice or affinity explains the difference on the run back. It’s a bit of an uphill run from here, so our run time should be longer even if we heal up before going back, but…»
I cut him off, saying, «We will be here for a time yet. You see, Davie my love, I found out this morning that I really like public sex so long as I can work out a way to do it without getting caught!» I folded myself down on the grass and added, «Now get down here and boink me cross-eyed!»
That brought his stiffy back, and he used it to do just as I’d demanded.
We had the whole park to ourselves, by our Gaia senses, so we didn’t even have to stay quiet, something we couldn’t have said for doing it back at the campground. Reason #432 why being a mage is awesome!
Half an hour later, my Davie was spooning me bare naked under the stars, visible to the world only by how we’d crushed a section of grass, and not just the area we happened to be lying upon right now. I estimated that we were about twenty feet from where we’d started!
Davie whispered, “Time for bed, and it can’t be here.”
I laughed quietly at the image of us waking up bare naked, fully visible, since we had yet to work out how to maintain a spell while sleeping.
Fifteen minutes later, we jogged into camp, needing to expend little extra effort to expand our invisibility bubbles to cover the sweat slicking them. Exhilarating!
Quiet as our footfalls were on the campground’s hard-packed dirt, a flashlight speared us, apparently passing straight through from its wielder’s perspective. We stopped. The light continued to point straight at us, though the one holding it surely could not see the pale dark spots of our pupils against the complicated forest background, those being the only things we left visible in this state, the photons magically directed around our bodies and continuing on their way as if we were not there at all.
Davie confirmed my guess by reminding me through the bond, «Invisible is not inaudible. If we stay quiet and immobile, flashlight dude should give up shortly.»
The beam’s wielder did in fact do that. While we remained blinded, our night sight redeveloping, we heard the quiet closing of a truck door and an engine start. Our eyes recovered just in time to see that the truck had a BLM logo on the side and Ranger Chris behind the wheel!
Davie said, «That’s twice he’s found us naked here in the campground, even though he can’t know it.»
Once Chris the Chivalrous was driving off down the highway to his next campground check-in, we crept quietly past the Alexanders’ rocking RV and into our tent, faint moaning filtering through the window screens.
We spread our mage senses out through the campground to spy out any other hidden observers and, sensing none, dropped our invisibility bubbles and folded quietly into our tent, zipping it up behind us.
We fell asleep to the faint sounds of our hosts’ coupling.