In the mountains high above Rio, safe from the chaos on the streets far below we watched as the containment field in the sky above us finally began to falter and die. Beyond it, vast, unknowable tendrils of orange gas, each one the length of a hundred cities end to end, crept and slithered across the sky, like wildfire, flanking our world, preparing to consume it. In the distance the elemental rumble of a million thunderstorms obliterated any notions of salvation.
I looked down at Marta, her doe-brown eyes round and glassy, body stiff with fear. It was just the two of us now. The remainder of the staff had fled the secure compound, this refuge for the rich and mega-rich, choosing instead the maelstrom below; last ditch attempts to be with loved ones, to make amends for past wrongs.
“I’m going to check on Wolfenden,” I said, placing my arm protectively around her shoulder, drawing her away from the spectacular vista of our final hours, “stay close to me.”
Doctor Wolfenden would live to see the end of the world. But if earth’s end wasn’t unfolding before our very eyes he probably wouldn’t have lived to see another sunrise. He was gone; looking up at me with his grey, sunken face. He took my hand, not a handshake, but with our thumbs locked together like you did on the street.
“Thank you for staying,” he said, “you two have been good to me,” when he finally pulled his cold hand away I found something pressed into my palm.
It was a keycard.
“I think God may have turned his back on us,” he said smiling, “but if I’m wrong, may he smile on you.”
I bowed my head respectfully, then left without looking back.
The keycard caused a discrete steel bulkhead behind his private quarters to slide back, leading us deep beneath the compound. As we passed it, a biometric scanner blinked into life. Computer banks lit up, pneumatic bolts hissed into position, unseen servos whirred busily. The place was coming alive at our very presence.
We passed through an automatic door that bore the sinister logo of some foreign corporation then finally, our eyes fell on the strange craft mounted on a scaffold platform beneath the high domed ceiling. She bore no markings save for the name on her hull: ‘Kon Tiki’.
“What is this place?” Marta whispered.
I shook my head in fear and wonder. I had heard of the rich developing plans for the day when the containment field finally gave in, abandoning us to our fate. It was said they invested millions, billions even. Some opted for steel-lined bunkers miles underground, hoping that only the surface would be devastated. Wolfenden, it seemed, had looked to the stars and while I had been tending his garden and Marta sweeping his floors, he had been quietly financing his own insurance policy.
“Is it a way out?” Marta asked in an awed voice.
“Maybe,” I said.
Behind us the door slid closed and a calm, unaccented, computer-generated voice spoke, informing us that we had been scanned and accepted for departure. Everything was automated. In less than ten minutes we were securing ourselves in a pair of plush, leather finished chairs deep in the bosom of the Kon Tiki.
“Are you leaving anyone behind?” Marta whispered, looking across at me, eyes welling up.
“No,” I said, “they’re all gone; all dead.”
She smiled, “same for me. Better that way.”
The engine ignited, rapidly tearing up to fever pitch as the cabin began to vibrate, temperature rising quickly as the environmental controls struggled with their initial adjustments. There was the vague sensation of movement, quickly quelled as the sedative began to take effect.
Then we were gone.
Three weeks passed as we took turns on watch, one scanning the inky star-field relayed via the Kon Tiki’s monitors for life while the other tended house, prepared food, slept.
Wolfenden and his super-planetary contractors had prepared well. There was foil-sealed food onboard, enough to sustain two people for a year. The hydrogen drive was self-perpetuating, manufacturing water and clean oxygen as a by-product. As long as we didn’t collide with anything bigger than us, for now, we would survive. They had thought of almost everything.
But as the days merged into one, a crushing despondency descended on us both. By the third week, most of our determination had evaporated. We just lay in each other’s arms, talking endlessly about our childhoods, our families about Edinburgh in the dead of winter and Krakow in the height of summer. When the ship’s proximity alarm sounded, it took minutes to rouse us from the catatonic fug of depression and malaise. Slowly at first, then with glorious, dawning hope we rolled to our feet, dulled eyes blinking at the monitor.
We had drifted dangerously close to a vast and apparently dormant ship. The huge black letters on her hull read ‘Sir Walter Raleigh’. She wallowed listlessly to one side, sophisticated and complex-looking like one of the expeditionary ships that had been constructed in orbit around the earth, designed to house thousands indefinitely as the wealthy and highly skilled searched for new worlds to colonize.
“It looks deserted,” Marta said, with an edge of fear to her voice.
“It’s our best chance of survival. It’ll have more food, better technology, maybe people…” I added hopefully.
Docking the Kon Tiki with the vast, silent craft was as free from our input as every other aspect of our virgin space flight, our computer merely seeking approval to intercept the unidentified hulk, firing the thrusters to bring us into alignment with the nearest of a multitude of coupling apertures beneath her belly.
There came a queasy clunk, followed by the hiss of pressure equalization. Eventually we were told us that it was safe to disembark. Unbeknown to Marta, I had found a handgun amongst Wolfenden’s boarding bag. I slipped it inside my jacket when she wasn’t looking.
We emerged from the cargo deck into large open plan rooms that were exquisitely appointed with soft furnishings, beautiful rugs laid over wooden floors, exotic plants and huge monitors recessed discretely into bulkheads. It looked like some kind of exclusive country club and it was clear the ship was designed for people to live in without being troubled by the complexities and workings of a space craft.
We held tightly to one another, tip toeing through the pristine, spotlessly clean interior with its mood lighting, swooping corridors and luxurious communal areas. We listened intently, but the place was ghostly and silent, save for the distant breath-like murmur of the ships massive twin hydrogen drives idling.
By the time my watch read eight o’clock we had begun to scavenge supplies from a galley we found, throwing caution to the wind by calling out to any survivors who might be hiding, listening to us. Still we heard nothing.
We retired to neighboring apartments adjacent to where we entered, glad of the opportunity for a little time to ourselves and a shower. I stood under the hot, massaging jets of water for a long time, wondering as to the fate of the ship’s crew, wondering how long it might be before other survivors would happen by. I emerged from the water, patted myself dry and then, in the hallway, I heard voices.
I made my way outside, palm of my hand cupping the grip of the pistol. There were more apartments stretching off down the hall. The door to one was open. As I approached, I could hear Marta’s voice and someone else’s too. I heard the tinkle of laughter, voices hushed, barely comprehensible over the eerie whisper of the engines.
“Hi,” Marta exclaimed when she saw me, her eyes bright and alive. Her skin once again looked radiant and peachy, her auburn hair teased up and voluminous. She had even found some makeup somewhere.
I was surprised to find her in a state of undress. But that wasn’t the most shocking part.
“You won’t believe it,” she said, “Stephanie made it! She’s here too.
Stephanie was pretty Canadian girl who had worked as a maid for Wolfenden. She currently had her face between Marta’s bare, voluptuous thighs attentively performing oral sex on her. She paused, “I know you two are close. So, I hope this is okay?” she said appealingly looking up at me.
I surveyed her elfin features, emerald green eyes and jet black hair pulled into a tight, high pony tail atop her head, the floral tattoos around the inside of her left forearm and round her right ankle. Implausible as it seemed, it was her. She was really there.
Further questions were deflected from my mind I watched Marta spread herself, tilting her legs back, so as to offer Stephanie even greater access. I noticed with growing excitement that the focus of her tongue was creeping further downwards, slipping it out of the entrance to her pussy and round her anus.
“Do you like that?” Stephanie cooed, smiling at Marta’s reaction.
She nodded, “I hope I taste nice.”
Then her hand was round my hardening cock, gently, insistently impelling me towards her. As she took me in her mouth, I placed a hand atop her head. It was an unnecessary gesture as she was clearly intent on taking it deep, as she reached between my thighs and, with a hand on my butt, pulled me into her. I found my cock driving hard into her mouth in crude fucking gestures that soon sent cascading rivulets of saliva spilling down in thick drops onto the opulent puffed cream leather beneath us.
Meanwhile, between her thighs Stephanie lapped enthusiastically at her clit, periodically pressurizing it’s underside with her tongue, pushing her towards orgasm while her index finger sunk progressively deeper into her arse hole.
The air seemed sweetly hot, greasy and heavy with the musk of our bodies, my vision going hazy as I fought to stave off climaxing in Marta’s mouth while she bucked and ground her hips past the point of no return, finally peaking violently. There was a squeal from Stephanie, somewhere between shock and pleasure as her face was splattered with clear ejaculate from Marta’s convulsing cunt.
“You came!” I said, dumbstruck.
“Not exactly,” she bit her lip looking girlish and cute, embarrassment mingling with the sudden heady lack of consequence, of rules.
“Oh my God, I’ve never done this before,” Stephanie exclaimed before catching yet another spurting, carving arc of Marta’s clear, warm pee in her mouth, wantonly showing off her tongue piercing as she swallowed a little, played with it in her mouth, let some cascade down over her perky, pale tits, then spat the remainder onto the creamy swell of Marta’s belly.
“Would you like to fuck a bit?” Marta asked, the gentle calm of her voice that had been so absent in our weeks adrift, suddenly back and with it the crippling attraction I had felt for her during our months working in Wolfenden’s mansion.
She rolled up off the splattered sofa, still possessively retaining a grip on my cock. I had never seen Marta drunk before, but I imagined this is how she must look, hungry, wild-eyed, beautiful.
“This has been a long time coming, I think,” she smiled before bending over on the couch, spreading herself, her thighs and arse glistening wet.
“Do you think you can you pee some more?” I asked, leering at her curvy, soft body, fingering open her pussy, teasing her.
She squirmed, trying to juggle sexual arousal with the hot impelling pressure of a full bladder and, presently, squirted onto the palm of my hand.
I pressed the shaft of my cock between the crease of her bottom, working myself in there, drawing its tip downwards before pushing it against the engorged, supple little O of her back door.
“You want it like this?” I said, almost incredulous, hardly able to comprehend how we could have gone from never having kissed to this.
She nodded. I felt her try and take me, her breathing fast and shallow as she opened around the girth of my dick. Before the sensation took over, before I was too deep in her, she relinquished control one more time and I felt her wine trickle, warm, wet and fragrant down my legs.
Time stood still as she swallowed me, enveloping, receptive and easy in a way that I had never experienced during anal sex with another woman. As I fucked her, Stephanie lingered, grinding herself desperately against my hip, watching my cock disappear easily into her former colleague’s bottom, “I want to do that,” she said.
“Time for a change,” Marta told us.
Stephanie threw herself down on the couch before us and I encouraged Marta to squat over her face, a wanton and lurid spectacle as she lowered herself until her pouting cunt kissed Stephanie’s lips and the expression on her face told me she was now being pleasured. Watching them, I insinuated myself between Stephanie’s legs pushing my cock into her, enjoying the sloppy, wet fuck as I squelched and farted vulgarly in and out of her.
“How are you doing?” Marta asked looking into my eyes, in a tender moment away from the carnality.
“Much better,” I said honestly, “I think we need this.”
She nodded and we kissed deeply while pleasuring ourselves atop Stephanie’s lithe body, Marta rocking her hips back and forth in rapid, urgent little motions, her heavy, full tits swinging gently from side to side.
I left Stephanie’s cunt engorged and gaping greedily as I withdrew. Sensing my intent she displayed herself gamely, relaxing her anus around my cock, taking it easily, barely breaking stride as she hungrily tongued Marta out.
I watched my flesh moistly squeeze into Stephanie’s arse as the obscene view drove me towards climax, Marta’s nails digging into the skin of my shoulder, my fingers kneading her tits as we straddled her, rode her, fucked her into the swirling, sucking climax. Orange tendrils danced around us, flaming tongues enshrining us like the ones that consumed our planet. As we devoured her, we ourselves were devoured, all containment breaking down. I felt myself unload deep inside her body before finally, deflated and utterly spent, we collapsed in a heap of glistening, heaving flesh.
The moment quivered in the air and then began to disperse. Stephanie smiled kindly at us and then disappeared into the adjoining shower room while Marta and I lay in each other’s arms, dozing in the warmth. When we finally came to, Stephanie was nowhere to be seen. The shower room was quiet, empty and dry. We dressed and cleansed ourselves in silence.
Finally I spoke, “you know if we stay here, whatever happened to the crew of this ship may happen to us?”
Marta nodded, “I know. But we have no home to go to and nothing to lose. There might be a thousand rooms like this one, who knows what we’ll find.”
We smiled at one another like two children, basking in a fleeting moment of unconditional freedom.
“Then, I say we explore.”
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