A shaft of morning sunshine streamed through a gap in the curtains and crept across the bed until it found me and woke me from my slumbers. I stretched out and patted the duvet to see if I still had company.

The smooth female voice of our Home Analysis System floated around the room.

“Hello Murray, it is 6:30 on Wednesday the 30th of November, 2067; it is your national saint’s day, and all is well with the world. Kay left twenty-five minutes ago and my sensors report she is twelve minutes from her home. She met your wife on her journey, and both their wellness and sensual indicator levels suggest they kissed for a long time when they met.”

~~~

There were times when nobody thought human life would survive, let alone live in this idyllic world. We didn’t have much warning about the meteorite; even then the authorities kept telling us it would be a near miss, maybe as close as 350,000 miles.

The Mud Ball, as it became known, came a lot closer; for two of three weeks, the night sky was ablaze with shooting stars, the brighter ones were even seen during the day. What wasn’t reported was the cocktail of viral infections. Somewhere in the mix of malevolent organisms, there had been a benevolent one.

Then the plagues started, the Black Death had nothing on some of these. Human life struggled for a couple of years; as one virus was conquered, another would rise to pre-eminence. It was said that two-thirds of the population might die.

Some people decided that if life was going to be short, they would enjoy it, they became known as the Die Happy’s. A lot of couples became swingers; either they would invite another couple over for dinner, then pair off. Then there were the swingers' parties, eight ‘til eights as they were called; twelve hours of fucking. They gave up using condoms, and gave up caring about gender; even ultra-straight guys knew what cock tasted like.

But, the DH’s didn’t die, they were the strongest and the fittest, the more they fucked, the healthier they became. The medical profession was baffled until, they isolated some virus that boosted the immune system. The more partners you had the more protection you had.

The space-borne infections went and so did some of the cursed diseases of the age. It thrived on Earth and brought the most unexpected side effect. Those infected by it became randy as hell, and the more sexual partners you had the better felt. In the end, the medics just told people to fuck themselves back to health.

At first, the religious orders were against it, but in time most of them started to reinterpret their treatises and a sexual revolution started. Without the threat of Aids, Syphilis or any other STD people just fucked. Gone were the stereotypes of heterosexual, gay or lesbian, you just fucked other people.

~~~

My wife, Harriet, bound into the bedroom, tired, but buoyant. She had been to a coming of age party. The age of consent was still sixteen, but the newly legislated coming of age for promiscuity was seventeen and a half. She and her friends Mark and Dianne, together with, two other couples, a girlfriend of the lad’s big sister, (who he had always fancied), and her boyfriend, had patiently waited until the stroke of midnight then, were pounced on by a randy seventeen-year-old boy.

“What a dirty little spunk machine he was,” Harriet giggled and started to undress.

My wife stood beside the bed and stripped down to her knickers, then, slid them down a little and pulled out the anal plug holding her Snatch Catch in position between her legs. She lifted the boat-like metal bowl to her lips, and, let its contents slid into her mouth, rather like eating an oyster.

Harriet leant forward and kissed me letting some of the salty spunk ménage flow into my mouth.

“Thanks, honey, after Kay sucking me dry, I could do with the protein,” I smiled.

~~~

I had gone with Harriet when she had her first sperm holder made; it was at a time when promiscuity was still a novelty. The windows of the shop were heavily tinted, and the walls had discreet posters of the different products; names like the Labiathan, Snatch Catch and Pussy Pouch, showed that some marketing people survived the plagues.

A laser would scan and create a 3D image of her upper thighs, bottom and pussy; then the personal prototype would be 3D printed. If she was okay with that after a couple of weeks, they would mould the metal version.

The technician suggested it would be best if Harriet was aroused before the scanning. He asked if he should do it or I would. I shrugged and gestured for him to carry on. He slid Harriet’s knickers off and pushed his face between her open legs; Harriet moaned softly. When he thought he had finished, he stood up.

“Is that all I get?” Harriet asked, gently rubbing the hard bulge in his trousers.

He looked to me again, again I shrugged. In a moment his prick was out and pushed up into my wife.

His female colleague lent over a bench, squirming as she surveyed the scene. I gently caressed her backside; she pushed back onto my hand. So I slid her skirt up; she turned and smiled at me. I pulled her knickers down a little, she had the type of device my wife was having made.

“May I?” I asked.

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t,” she said.

I pulled the device back gently and the plug disengaged from her anus, it was coated in cum and let the cup drop into her knickers, that too was full of cum. My rubbed my erection against her wet pussy lips and pushed up.

“I mustn’t cum, it will upset the scan,” Harriet’s lover groaned and reluctantly pulled from my wife before he did. I had no such qualms; my sap rose and I let it spray into his colleague, she shuddered a bit as she felt my discharge. Then, I pushed the plug back into her anus and, hitched her knickers up again. My sperm would have to mix with all her lovers', but, I didn’t care.

.~~~

My wife straddled my face, the rest of the warm sticky semen ran like a lazy river from between her labia and dripped into my mouth. My mouth closed around her pussy and I sucked her clean. I was stiff, but I could tell she had had her fill the night before.

As it was my country's patron saint’s day, I wore my Highland garb; these days it was a joy to wear a kilt. As I stood on the subway, any number of hands slipped up under the hem to see if it was true that there was nothing under a Scotsman’s kilt. I didn’t disappoint them.

I caught the Multi Rider automated electric bus, they were popular because they were crowded, squeezed up together, hands would wonder. Today, hands were wandering under my kilt; I recognized the woman in front of me, she smiled back. Her hand also slipped under my Highland garb and cradled my balls.

She turned sideways to me, offering the slit in the side of her dress to my hand; my fingers found another slit, it was shaved and smooth, and, wet from a fuck already. I slipped two digits up into her; she stroked my stiffening dick.

The Multi Rider cruised to a halt, the doors opened and we parted for the rail station.

“Until our next meeting in a black cab,” she said with a smile.

I remembered her now. My wife and I were waiting for a transport pod a couple of weeks ago, it was a wet evening, so it was hard to get one. A black cab stopped; these were not the Black Cab Taxis of years back, these were transport pods with heavily smoked windows, the perfect place to fuck a stranger on the way home.

The doors of this pod opened to reveal a couple, the woman sat on her partner’s knee; they beckoned us in. We were grateful to be out of the weather and sat opposite them, Harriet on my knee. Then, my mystery women opened her legs; her partner’s prick was buried deep in her.

Harriet and I did the same; each could watch the other fuck. On what seemed like some telepathic cue, the two girls lifted from us men and changed places. Then, without saying a word, each of us finishing ourselves in the other’s wife.

~~~

As I waited for the train, I spied Hugh, another of my nation; he too was dressed for the occasion. The patterns of our tartans told us we should be at war with each other. He shook his fist at me; I went to draw a sword I wasn’t wearing and feigned surprise it wasn’t there. We shook hands warmly and chatted, boarding the train together.

A young couple stood beside us, the girl giggled and asked if it was true about Scotsmen wearing nothing under their kilts. We both smiled and told her to check; then we both felt a warm soft hand on our scrotums.

The lass motioned to her boyfriend to do the same. I watched Hugh gently rub the lads back, then, slip a hand down into the lad’s jeans. I watched a smile of joy come over Hugh’s face as he felt a firm young buttock. The lad continued to fondle Hugh and my balls. I slid my hand down to join Hugh’s.

My wrist communicator bleeped, ‘Age Alert! Justin is two weeks away from the promiscuity coming of age. Louise is of age, has a high sex drive and a liking for older men.

Hugh must have got a similar alert, we both withdrew our hands from Justin’s pants at the same time.

“Only a couple of weeks lad, then you can play,” Hugh told him

As we left the train, Hugh and I were messaged; an invitation from Louise to Justin’s coming of age night, bring a friend.

~~~

Officially sex was banned in my office, like most others, but, with the boss spending a lot of time in his PA’s knickers, it was hard to enforce.

My secretary came into my office looking flushed. Well into her sixties, she had returned to work just for the sex.

“Sorry Murray, that lift got stuck again. Just me and that young lad from accounts,” Martha giggled.

Martha’s husband was the maintenance man, I’m sure he had arranged a secret way of stopping the lift between floors.

After all the fondling on the journey in, I would have closed my office door and added to Martha’s fluid count, but, Suzy appeared at the door with some samples to be checked. Martha knew I had a crush of Suzy and left winking at me.

Suzy stood in front of my desk with a box full of samples, her brown eyes and far eastern skin tones haunted me, but this girl was always demure and never joined the sinful side of the office.

“Mr Murray, is it true about Scottish men not wearing underwear?” She asked politely.

“It is my Patron Saint's Day today, a little like a National birthday. If you want you could sit on my knee and find out?” I told her.

Suzy giggled and came around to my side of the desk, her light frame hardly registered on my knee. I lifted the hem of my kilt to encourage her. A swift little hand slid along my thigh, and her warm fingers held my prick.

"Can I touch you?" I asked.

“If you promise not to tell anybody,” she answered.

I let my hand stray under her skirt, but instead of the plump pussy lips I expected, a small cock had formed a tent against the lacy her knickers.

“Suzy, I didn’t know,” I told her as she nestled into me.

I pressed a soft-key on my monitor and sat her on my desk as the door to my office silently closed and locked.

She opened her legs a little, an invitation I wasn’t going to refuse; I eased her knickers down, and freed the beautiful little erection. As my lips slid down the length to kiss its base, its head was just catching in my throat. It was the perfect length.

"Do you want to cum, Suzy, baby?" I asked between sucks.

“I’d like to, Mr Murray, but I went to my ex-boyfriend’s parents house last night, to drops some of the things off. And, I stayed the night with his Mom and Dad; I never knew mature couples could be so much fun. But they emptied my balls.” Suzy said with a little smile.

It turned out she was going to a concert that night in the arena close to our home. What could I say? I offered her a bed for the night.

~~~

That evening Suzy and I walk through the front door, Harriet was there to greet us. I saw the glint in my wife’s eyes as she hugged us both. Then, she ushered Suzy away to our room to help her get ready for the concert. I sat back and caught snippets of their conversation.

“Here Suzy, let me help you off with this.”

Oh my, honey, I had no idea. Murray did tell you to come back and stay the night with us tonight, didn’t he?”

“Good. Yes, of course, you are welcome, it will be fun.”

Harriet came back into the room: I knew that look, one hundred and ten per cent lust.

“I want that little prick in every hole I can get it into,” my wife whispered.

I lay back on the sofa; poor Suzy, there will be nothing left in her ball sack tomorrow morning either, Harriet will make sure of that.

I sighed with contentment; we really did live in a Utopian Age.