Little House on Planitia
What I’m writing is a memoir. In my case it is a very personal recollection of my girlhood growing up and coming to sexual awareness on Mars. But this is no idle literary effort. I’m using this exercise to work through some feelings and concerns I’ve had recently – kind of a self-therapy. That being the case, I suppose emotionally-generated pseudo-facts are to be expected. On the other hand, as an associate professor of human anthropology at Zubrin University, I’m sure my tendency toward scholarly rigor will tug on my writing as well. With those caveats, I can probably dispense with further hand-wringing and get on with this.
Bowing to my scholarly side, I will first name the source of my data. It is the journal that I kept sporadically from the time I was school age until I was well into adulthood. Then I will state my objective, which is to document my experiences as a girl growing up in a Martian Freeholder family – a frontier way of life that is rapidly disappearing as Mars becomes more populated, terraformed and urbanized. Finally, I should state the impetus for my decision to write my story. It is the fact that my daughter, Willis, has just turned 11 years old by what we used to call EET (Earth Equivalent Time). When I was less than 200 sols older than she is now, the elder of my two older brothers, Ares, relieved me of my virginity. In our current social context, I doubt that my daughter’s older brother, Thars, will perform that service for her. That makes me sad.
My parents were native-born Martians, the offspring of what were called “nonrees” or “non-returning” visitors to our planet from earth. “Immigrants” was the term used in former times. Like their peers, my grandparents arrived as the employees of various commercial, scientific, governmental and non-governmental entities. They came as already married couples, a requirement designed to keep the initial colonization of our planet orderly.
As pre-adults (what used to be called teenagers in EET parlance) my parents were swept up in the “Mars!” movement that was in ascendancy at the time. As everyone knows, it was the drive to establish a true Martian civilization, divesting our society of the irrelevant traditions of earth. The Freeholder institution, which dated from the original United Nations Mars Colonization Charter, was seized upon as a tool for “marsification.” Young people were encouraged to set up farmsteads far outside the population centers to establish a truly Martian human presence – and enterprise – throughout the planet.
With sponsorship from both government and private sources, my parents set up a nuclear family Freehold on Elysium Planitia. They pointedly refrained from formalizing their relationship with a marriage in any form. So with a minimum of fuss they set up housekeeping, began farming and started a family. They registered their Freehold under my mother’s traditional family name, “Ingalls.” Because of the similarity in sound, we adopted the handle or call sign of “Angels.”
By the time I became aware, the hardest times were behind my parents. Our farm produced vegetables and cultured animal tissue for human consumption. Most Freeholds also engaged in mining and manufacturing (usually fused silica-derived products or artworks). We were no exception, trying our hands at various enterprises from time to time. We did this usually in cooperation with other Freeholders. One thing we pioneers did well was form voluntary cooperatives for various ventures and for mutual protection. Alliances of these types were formed and dissolved almost as frequently as the sun rose and set.
Much of our lifestyle was dictated by our isolation and the nature of the Martian environment. In those early stages of terraforming, the atmospheric pressure was still low and largely oxygen-free. Typical temperatures made earth’s polar regions seem balmy by comparison. Since the atmosphere provided almost no protection from solar radiation, our living quarters were underground. Because of the expense of establishing and maintaining a pressurized and heated space underground, our house was cramped. Physical privacy was virtually non-existent.
One of the by-products of the close quarters was early sex education. My parents fucked and performed other sex acts in plain sight (not to mention sound and smell) of us children. When I reflected on this fact later, it seemed as though they made a point of having sex in front of us as a way of shaping our attitudes toward male-female interactions. In that, they were being good citizens. One of the tenants of the Mars! Manifesto that was later written into our planetary constitution was that “Sex is fundamental to human nature, therefore the free exercise thereof shall not be restricted.” As a result, I knew from the earliest possible age that my cunt would eventually and frequently be a receptacle for boys’ penises.
On the rare occasion that we had visitors, sex was part of the hospitality. A visiting couple invariably stayed overnight and they and my parents slept with each other’s partners. If we entertained a single male visitor, he slept with my mother. When my brothers and I became old enough, we became part of the mix as well. This is such a time-honored Martian tradition, that even now a visiting dignitary from another inhabited world is provided with a male or female sexual companion (according to their preferences) for the duration of their stay.
No doubt a lot of this sexual activity was facilitated by the constant state of nudity that was maintained in most Freeholder households. Initially, Freeholder practitioners eschewed clothing for the lack of reasons that raiment was originally adopted by our human ancestors: there was no need for bodily protection (we were perpetually in a climate-controlled environment) and there were no peers to impress with one’s finery (we were quite isolated as I have said).
As time went on, however, it became apparent to Freeholders that there was a far more practical reason for avoiding clothing. All homesteads had closed-loop life support systems. In the case of water, the water you drank one sol was recovered from the urine and wash water you discharged the sol before. Needless to say, the greater the volume of water that passed through your household in a given sol, the larger, more expensive and costly to operate that recovery system became. Laundering clothes was therefore an unnecessary luxury. As such, nudity became a point of pride among Freeholders – our distinguishing trademark. I can honestly say that I never owned any clothing until I was an adult living the urban lifestyle.
In my case, the swelling of my breasts as I approached puberty was no doubt a signal to my brother that I could be receptive to copulation. Our sex play had been a constant feature of our interaction even when we were very young. On the ocassion of my deflowering, I had sucked and teased Ares’ cock into rigidity as I had innumerable times before. As I playfully licked it, I wondered aloud how it might feel to have it in me. Ares, who had been fingering my cunt in a very agreeable way, suggested I try it and see. I needed no further urging. I straddled his lap and proceeded to lower my little pussy onto his shaft. I’m sure I had no intention of going all of the way down on him, but one thing led to another.
I was excited and fearful as the sensation of being stretched for the first time intensified. When I jerked from the pain of my tearing hymen, my brother assured me that the worst was over and that I may as well continue. Since I was aroused by this time, I was very receptive to that advice. His assurances notwithstanding, it was with no little additional discomfort that I finally achieved the objective of sitting completely down on his lap with his full length inside of me.
It hadn’t occurred to me that anything momentous had happened other that I had demonstrated the cock-eating capacity of my cunt. But then Ares took me in his arms and laid me gently on my back. I instinctively raised my legs as I had seen adult women do so many times before. As soon as I had done that, my brother began to fuck me.
My discomfort became mixed with anxious pleasure as my body responded to the sexual stimuli. I might have been on the verge of an orgasm when the tightness of my cunt took its toll on my brother. He faltered in his stroking rhythm and then forced his way into me as deeply as possible. I didn’t need to be told he was cumming. That’s when it dawned on me: I had just been fucked for the first time.
When we parted, his slick cock was streaked with my blood in addition to my vaginal secretions and his seminal discharge. The issue from my cunt was no less varied. It was in that dazed state that my mother discovered us. When she asked if we had just fucked, we both answered promptly in the affirmative. Her next questions were after my condition.
Ares was ordered back to his studies (we had been taking a play break) and Mom took me in hand. As she helped me clean up, it came out that she was mildly put out by the fact that she hadn’t had an opportunity to puncture my hymen and give me coaching before my first fuck. When that pique subsided however, she was very supportive of my “decision” to start having sex and she said that she was proud of my having achieved the status of a sexually active female. We had a little family celebration after supper that night.
Things changed after that. I had been sleeping with my pre-pubescent brother, Oly. I was now reassigned to Ares’ bed. We missed a lot of sleep for the first several nights until progressive fatigue caused us to moderate our fucking.
I must acknowledge that I was the beneficiary of Ares’ prior sexual experience. Most of that had been gained with my mother, whom he had been fucking since he had attained full puberty. When mother had ascertained his development and interest were sufficiently progressed, she discussed her intention of submitting to her son with my father. Being a good Martian Freeholder, he was fully supportive.
Ares’ other major sexual conquest prior to me had been Marta, a girl a little less than a circ younger than he. They communicated regularly in holo sessions, often talking sex and masturbating together. Being in a family of three girls, Marta’s only sexual recourse was her father. But with an older sister and her mother requiring service, Marta was not getting fucked as much as a newly-active young girl would prefer. It took some doing, but she eventually convinced her parents to let her visit us.
I remember Ares’ agitation during Marta and her father’s journey from their Freehold to ours. It took nearly an entire sol and Ares was in almost continual communication with her for that period. Cooped up in the cabin of the crawler with the jabbering of two lust-crazed pre-adults sizzling around him, Marta’s father prevailed on them to take break from time to time.
The naked man and girl no sooner entered our living quarters from our auxiliary airlock than Ares and Marta were in each others’ arms. I believe that only a few millisols elapsed between their first contact and the full insertion of Ares’ cock into her vagina. That provided much amusement for the adults who teased them mercilessly once their mating was consummated. They were so buzzed after their sex, I doubt they were seriously phased.
Dad gallantly found make-shift sleeping accommodations that night as Marta’s father fucked Mom. Between the adult and pre-adult sexual activity going on, sleep was scarce for all that night.
Marta was a bit tearful when her dad set out on his homeward trek. She stayed nearly 40 sols, which turned out to be a bit too long. She and Ares were noticeably bored with each other by the end. In deference to her desire, my dad was fucking her as frequently as my brother by the time she was collected by her parent. The two junior lovers communicated with less frequency after that. To the best of my knowledge they never fucked again.
Mindful of the Marta experience, I asked my father for sex within a few sols of establishing a regular sexual relationship with Ares. I realized as soon as his cock made its first entry stroke into my cunt that this was going to be a very different experience to one of Ares’ fucks. As my dad lay on top of me after discharging his semen into my vagina, I reached three conclusions: that all men are not alike, that all orgasms are not alike and that sex could actually be a means of expressing love. I’ve been with many men, each of whom I cared for to a greater or lesser degree, but none of my feelings have ever matched those I had for my father.
In about another circ, Oly became a fully capable male. My mother was his first conquest and I was not far behind. Since I had had the full course of contraceptive treatment by that time, it was natural that we would share sex routinely. Mom decided to work out a schedule of bed assignments by which we women would rotate among the beds occupied by the males. This avoided competitive and conflicting demands for our sexual favors. What it also meant was that barely a sol passed that both of us weren’t fucked.
After we had all begun sharing sex, I suppose I developed an attitude toward fucking that was somewhere between the category of a household chore and a playtime activity. A case in point is that if I had a squabble with the brother that I was designated to sleep with that sol, I never withheld sex from him as a method of emphasizing my displeasure or punishing him. Indeed I sucked his cock and accepted it into my vagina with no thought that the tiff and sex should be linked. Much later, when I discovered that other women used sex as a weapon, I must confess I was astonished. I was equally amazed to learn that men often expected sex to be denied when they displeased their partner.
As I have previously stated, our physical interaction with others was limited by travel time. Our only mode of transportation was the family crawler. Vehicles of that type and vintage typically had a cabin that accommodated two comfortably with the necessary on-board housekeeping facilities. The rest of the vehicle volume was dedicated to a heated and pressurized, but otherwise void cargo compartment. The latter could be temporarily converted with seats and other accouterments to passenger service – a procedure we followed a few times a circ when we trusted our Freehold’s automatic systems and took brief family vacations to one of the cities. However, these conversions provided accommodations that were anything but comfortable. But the greatest limitation to using this vehicle for pleasure trips was its speed. With no developed roadways in those days, it was considered quite a feat to sustain an average speed of 500 kilometers per sol on a long trip. And there were no short trips.
The nearest Freehold to us was about 50 millisols travel time. The residents of that establishment, however, were two older homosexual males with whom we had little in common. The nearest Freehold with children around our age was a little under 200 millisols away. That was a Co-hold, a multi family cooperative with common facilities that was modeled more or less after a kibbutz, a socialized cooperative at was prevalent in Israel – now a part of the Eastern Mediterranean Confederation on earth – about 2.5 EET centuries ago. The Co-holds tended to be more insular, having less need for interaction than we.
It turned out that any habitation that was of interest to us was more than 0.5 sol distant – entailing an overnight stay. That was also true of Bradbury, the commercial trading center where we sold our produce and obtained our supplies. Dad made that trip about once every 15 sols or so. When we were younger, Mom seldom went, so the other seat in the crawler was typically occupied by one of my brothers. As we children became more independent, Mom and I got our turns, since Ares proved responsible enough to be left in charge – much to his chagrin.
The permanent population of Bradbury consisted of the proprietors and managers of the businesses with whom we dealt – that is, they and their families. When we stood down from our airlock-housed crawler, we joined the small throng of naked Freeholders milling among the establishments that lined the walkways of the main area. Our nudity distinguished us from the denizens of the place who typically wore some item of raiment, typically a vest emblazoned with their company’s logo. Although some “commers” (as we called them) were fully dressed, most wore no more than their uniform item, leaving their bodies nearly as exposed as the Freeholders – an obvious deference to the sensibilities of their clients.
Since the long travel times necessitated overnight stays, there were ample inexpensive accommodations available to visitors. Of course, their gastronomic and entertainment needs were accommodated as well – including the need for diversified sex. Among themselves, Freeholders often coordinated their trips to the commercial centers to exchange partners. Single adults and pre-adults, however, quickly overflowed to the permanent population of the center in search of sex. Since prostitution was not supported by Freeholder sensibilities this need did not translate into a business opportunity. The upshot tended to be that business people did themselves and encouraged their employees and families likewise to engage in sex with visitors. This practice tended to be regarded as good customer relations.
The sexual frenzy that was a permanent fixture of Bradbury was one of the reasons that I did not immediately participate in the rotation of companions for my father’s treks. Dad’s sexual forays often deprived him of the ability to closely monitor my wanderings. That was dangerous in that young, unaccompanied females of almost any age could be considered fair game for sexual tourists.
After my sexual initiation, I was allowed to accompany Dad as regularly as the boys. Mom also began to alternate with Dad in the crawler pilot role. The mother-daughter trips were exceptional treats. Much later Ares and I were entrusted to “make the run” by ourselves.
In the early stages – say, for the first circ or so after becoming sexually active – I never failed to be fucked at least once on each of these trips. Initially, it was on the basis of a prior date with a boy (usually through the good offices of my brothers with their friends – I was far too shy to take the initiative to make a fuck date with a boy) who would be visiting Bradbury at the same time. For a while, I was quite satisfied with these arrangements, since they met my primary need: diversity from my familial sexual experiences. However, as time went on these trysts became repetitious. For example, my journal reveals that within this period, I had been fucked by one of Ares’ friends five times.
While I was growing in sexual experience, nature kept about its business of transforming my body. By this time I had acquired many of the accoutrements of womanhood. My breasts had sprouted and gained a size could each fill the a man’s hand (I know that because my brothers handled them frequently – even when we were not engaged in foreplay). Within a circ after my first sex with Ares, I was within about 30 millimeters of my adult height with my hips and legs rounding out nicely.
Mom encouraged me to wear my hair rather long – down to my shoulder blades – because she thought young girls look most appealing that way. My hair turned out to be straight, rather thick and a few shades too dark to be considered blonde. Mom thought that the color contrasted well with my hazel grey-brown eyes. I accepted her judgment on that matter even though this was one point on which Mom broke with the early Mars! Orthodoxy. According to purists, in the resource-limited Freehold environment hair was a hygienic liability. Men and women alike were encouraged to keep their crowns close-cropped, if not shaved. I recall some of the female political leaders of that era displaying bald pates. The total effect of a naked, shaved-headed woman was striking – meaning it was by equal parts exotically attractive and very off-putting.
I gradually came to realize that Mom was on to something. The episode that cemented my favorable opinion was when we had been invited to visit the nearby Co-hold for a holiday celebration. With in a short time of our arrival, I had been fucked by two of the boys there, one of whom was a new experience. During sex I found it necessary to expend some effort to manage my long tresses. It had been worth the trouble, however, because the Co-hold boys, used to the shorter styles of their own women were intrigued and even turned on by my grooming. One of them sought me out for a second fuck in which stroking my hair figured in his foreplay. Seeing the pics afterward caused me to appreciate how sexy I looked bent over on all fours being fucked from the rear with my passion-contorted face and rocking shoulders draped in my luxuriant growth.
Then there was my first fuck by an adult male outside my family – one of my most cherished memories …
Shortly after that ego-boosting episode at the Co-hold, my father intervened while I was taking exception to the sexual arrangement that Oly was setting in place for my next scheduled foray to Bradbury. All my brother could manage was a boy who had fucked me twice before – both with less than edifying results. Dad took me aside – that is, we went to the above ground growth chamber on some chore or other – and made a proposal: one of the adult male commers at Bradbury had expressed an interest in fucking me. I was acquainted with the person he named. I had met him on multiple occasions because my father did business with him on every visit to Bradbury. He was a young, personable, good-looking man whom I would never have aspired to recruiting as a sex partner. Whenever we met he engaged me in conversation as though I were a peer, so I was predisposed to be attracted to him. I assented to the plan almost instantly – before I had a chance to question why such an obviously desirable male would have the least interest in a skinny little kid like me.
We actually set out on our trip a sol earlier than scheduled. I was gratified by that development. It was only later that it occurred to me that Dad may have moved up his plans because he could see how excited I was about my pending liaison.
I don’t know whether apprehension or anticipation held the upper hand during the long trip to the commercial center. When we alighted at our destination, Dad was exceptionally slow and methodical about off loading our produce and consigning it to our buyer. Afterward, he seemed in no hurry to get about our other business that would take me into the arms of my new lover, suggesting a meal and some entertainment. Only when my impatience degenerated into sulkiness did he accede to my desire to consummate the promised hook-up.
Candor (“Can”) Wilder seemed different than I remembered him as I saw him through the lens of my youthful lust. He appeared far more physical – a better defined physique and eyes that roved over me with a frank appraisal. I felt quite helpless in his naked presence (yes, he was Freeholder nude; nothing commer about him on this occasion), as though I were a package being delivered to him. I watched his half-hard cock bob as he approached me. From what seemed like a distance I heard him greet me by name before he took me in his arms and bent his face to mine. His tongue took its time exploring my mouth. My hands had started to reach for him as his arms encircled me but they stalled in their ascent, the curled fingers pressed against his chest as he worked on me.
His cock was much stiffer when he drew back from our oral congress. I recall thinking that it was a very nice cock. It was thick with a very full head. I think I was getting quite wet at that point.
He smiled and said something to my dad. Dad replied and then addressed me. I said I was ready although I hadn’t heard any distinct words from either. As Can cupped my ass and guided me along the walkway, my ears cleared.
After I responded with a monosyllable to his inquiry concerning how my trip had been, he shifted gears.
“Are you looking forward to this fuck as much as I am?” he asked.
I rallied and concentrated. What would be the appropriate reply? Something frankly bawdy, the way I had heard adult women talk.
“I haven’t thought about much else for the past five sols,” I told him. “I can’t wait for you to shove your stiff cock up my snatch and give it to me hard.”
I hoped I sounded very adult. Instead he chuckled.
“I’m certainly going to give it to you hard, but I hope we can have a good time, too. Fucking should be fun, don’t you think?”
That was the final break.
“Yeah,” I replied with a shy smile.
I was starting to relax. Here was a good-looking, adult male over 13 circs old (early 20’s by EET) who wanted me – a work-in-progress 7 ½ circ girl of no particular distinction – and I was feeling comfortable with that incongruity. He seemed to sense it. His hand came off my ass and the arm encircled my waist. He pulled me close. I put a hand over his where it rested on me and slipped the other around his waist. He felt very firm.
By unspoken mutual agreement we went directly to his bed. During the prolonged foreplay my body gave up all of its secrets. I took the opportunity to suck his beautiful cock, but we both knew his member had other business to attend to, so the encounter was brief. Being young and quite shy, my practice was to roll onto my back and open my legs when I felt sufficiently aroused by foreplay. I never wanted to be the cause of delaying my partner’s gratification.
Can accepted my abrupt surrender graciously. He mounted and entered me with smooth experience. Once he was fully inserted, however, he took time to allow his lips and tongue to re-explore every part of me from the tits upward. At the same time, his hands checked out all of my lower parts, including the inner thighs of my raised legs. As he moved through these activities, his cock moved in and out and rimmed my cunt.
There was no noticeable break between these preliminaries and his beginning to fuck me. I simply realized that the intensity of my arousal was building in response to his regular stroking. His cock filled me amply, so each stroke lifted me further toward my climax.
When my first orgasm broke I was whimpering and thrashing. The second was close behind it. Somewhere the thought formed that I should beg him to stop – that I couldn’t stand the torrent of pleasure anymore. My desire to sustain my passion was stronger than my fear, however. My body grasped and thrust at my partner’s, attempting to do whatever would enhance and sustain the blinding pleasure.
Can told me afterward that he counted four orgasms before he was forced to release his jizzum into me. His climax was explosive. His groaning, bucking and thrusting were violent enough to break through the curtain of my passion-numbed mind. I responded by holding him as tightly as my slight body and limited strength would allow.
He made no move to get off me when we had recovered our breath. Instead, he engaged me in conversation about our fuck. He asked me how it felt as he penetrated my cunt, how the orgasm felt and other indescribable physical sensations. In fairness, he volunteered as much as he demanded. As I strained my youthful verbal abilities to describe my ecstasy, I realized that his cock had retained its integrity and he was subtly stroking me, maintaining stimulation. My descriptions were apparently exciting him.
Eventually the conversation was swamped by our heavy breathing. The second fuck lasted a very long time. I climaxed a couple of times – after slow build-ups. His climax was much more sedate than previously. Afterward he continued to lie on top of me as we kissed and cuddled. His cock retained enough integrity to remain within me.
When he asked me to stay with him until I had to return home, I told him I’d love to but that I’d have to ask my dad. Can climbed off me and gave me my privacy while I communicated with my father through my necklace phone. I discovered Dad was having a prearranged tryst with a commer woman and was more than okay with my being taken care of by my new lover.
Can and I cleaned up, shared a meal and talked – a lot. We talked about everything: ourselves, our lives, our families and friends, our past sex experiences and our futures. I learned that Can was actually only a part-time vendor. His regular job was teaching on the secondary level. He taught a combined class of “live” and holo-forum students (which is the way we Freehold children attended class). That was going to change soon because he planned on going to the city to pursue graduate studies with a view to becoming an academic. I was disappointed to hear that since that meant he wouldn’t be available for sex on any of my future visits. In my childish mind I guess I had already bonded with him.
As we were talking, we casually fondled each other. When Can’s cock became fully erect, he matter-of-factly pulled me closer to him and caused me to straddle his hips on my knees as he reclined. I took the hint and lowered myself onto his lance. The conversation hardly paused as he entered me.
There was no denying the effect that our physical conjunction was having on us, however. Eventually, the need in me grew irresistible. I began to slide up and down on his cock. My companion smiled his approval of my decision as his fingers explored my breasts and stroked my clit. Heavy breathing, squeaks and gasps replaced rational discourse. Being in control, I was able to please myself. I think that may have been one of the earliest instances of my deliberately doing just that.
Can let me struggle my way through two pretty good orgasms before he felt the need to intervene. He lifted and rolled me onto my back while keeping his cock imbedded in me. Hardly did he put me in this position than he plunged and released his load.
I was in a daze when Dad and I set off for home in our crawler. My numbness was not just the aftermath of nearly a sol’s worth of continual sex, but was almost equally due to the whirling in my brain instigated by our frank conversations. As we rested or ate between fucks, Can opened my mind to ideas and concepts that hadn’t occurred to me before. Of course, he hadn’t failed to expand my sexual education as well. There is no doubt that when I left him I was much more technically proficient than when we met.
I lacked the ability to communicate the depth of my experience to my father at the time. I mostly confined my answers to his inquiries by giving an account of the amazing sex I’d enjoyed. Somewhere in the midst of my account, Dad became quite aroused. We worked out that problem in the sleeping space in the back of the crawler as it made its way home under automatic GPS control. When I arrived home, my brothers benefited from my enhanced sexual prowess. They remarked on how “different” I seemed when they had me thereafter.
Can communicated with me when he left Bradbury for Lowell where he would continue his studies. We corresponded with decreasing frequency in the intervening circs but never lost touch. That proved fateful, but I’ll get into that later.
With my new-found confidence and self-awareness, I made the trips without prior sexual arrangements. As a young girl, these free form visits proved very successful since I was sought after by a number and variety of potential partners of both sexes. The trysts that made me feel the most grown up were those in which Dad and I were swap partners with adult couples.
Eventually, Ares left for extended education – what they called college in former times. When the flyer took off from our Freehold with Ares on board we knew that we were transitioning to a new phase as a family. For us children that was exciting, but I’m sure that our parents felt mixed emotions.
Oly left for his educational adventure less than two circs later. I was about a circ behind him. The excitement of my first flyer trip was quickly submerged by the hollowness – the loneliness – that I felt almost as soon as the ground dropped away below the flyer. I cried briefly, before I told myself this wasn’t practical. A naked girl has nothing readily at hand with which to dry her eyes.
The fact that I had selected the same institution that Oly attended, eased the anxiety. He met me and immediately took me to bed. The fuck and the familiar feel of his body relaxed and reassured me. It was one of the few times I unreservedly thanked a man for fucking me. My brother took me to meet his friends which caused me to reach a couple of conclusions almost immediately. The first was that everybody wants to fuck the new girl. The second was that there was a bewildering number and variety of cocks in a university. And I liked cock. I think that during the first 30 sols I was in attendance I must have had at least that many sex partners. Some fucked me more than once, others took turns fucking me in succession. It would be fair to say that I totally immersed myself in the very available sex.
I will state for the record, that in spite of my serial orgy, I never missed a class, meeting or other required function. Having said that, there were a few instances early on when I reached my appointment in a dead run with my hair in disarray, reeking of sex and with some young man’s semen seeping freely from my cunt. I quickly learned to manage my time to allow for cleanup so I could attend a class with some decorum. However, since I steadfastly refused to use those suction devices that removed fluids from one’s vaginal tract, I did tolerate fluid seepage as I went about my business. I noticed many other girls doing the same. Some even boldly displayed the fruits of their lovemaking.
The most momentous development during my initiation to extended education was my reconnecting with Can Wilder. He was teaching at an institution in the same city as mine. He accepted my invitation to meet me in my cell. Thankfully, he was quite punctual. I might have died of anticipation if he’d kept me waiting. When I opened the door, he stood there perfectly naked and with a perfectly rigid cock. I didn’t waste any time getting that wonderful cock inside me. By my desire, he fucked me feverishly.
We were so in synch that sol. We resumed talking and fucking as though our tryst had taken place only the sol before. We left my room only once during his visit to seek sustenance.
I learned that Can was in a termanent – a legal marriage for a fixed term – with a graduate student. They had a baby. I was assailed with mixed emotions on learning this. One of those emotions was something akin to jealousy. If Can noticed my reduced mood, he gave no indication. He smoothly invited me to his home to meet his family.
As it turned out, it was one my best experiences ever. Selene, his legal mate, proved to be a wonderfully engaging person. We had three-way sex on my first visit. It was the first of many. I even visited Selene when Can was not home. She was the first woman whose pussy I genuinely enjoyed eating. And she returned the favor with equal enthusiasm.
I had been in university life for about 60 sols when Can and Selene invited me to live with them and share their lives. After a period of intense consideration, I finally acceded. Living with my new family gave me a new feeling of belonging. Inspired, I threw myself into being a member of a household again. Wanting to fully experience my new domesticity, I let Can impregnate me in fairly short order. Selene was very supportive while Thars gestated. Both she and Can participated in the birth.
My parents visited me and my new son. They were no longer together.
It had become clear that Freeholder farming was no longer economically competitive. Dad had prudently invested in a mass production farm some time before. Mom stubbornly refused to embrace the non-Freeholder life. When they leased the Angels farmstead out for other uses, she joined a Co-hold for older people who wanted to maintain the old rural life. Dad moved to the city. He eventually set up living arrangements with two women with young children and managed his business interests. I was okay with his new life but the one thing that put me off was that he started wearing clothes.
Selene coached me as I confronted the brave new world of clothing. I had noticed right off that town people included only a minority of full nudists like myself. Indeed recent arrivals like me seemed to be regarded as bumpkins by seasoned city dwellers. The latter did go in for revealing raiment that usually exposed the genitals and women wore peek-a-boo tops that achieved their effects by techniques that varied from transparency to cutouts. Nevertheless, it seemed that a person needed to have some textile element about them to be considered acceptable. Eventually I succumbed to the social pressure and got “clothed.” I tried to hold my covering to a minimum, but I soon acquired a closet full of outfits. I won’t get into the shoes.
When Thars was a little past 2 circs old, I reluctantly consented to travel to earth on my graduate research project. Selene was a perfect substitute mother, but the idea of being away from my baby for the better part of a circ was painful at best.
Fortunately, the widespread use of nuclear propulsion and ion drives has permitted the use of high energy trajectories, so the trip to our mother world required only the equivalent of earth weeks rather than the many months required by earlier, low energy arcs. Earth proved to be as interesting and beautiful as advertised, but the oppressive gravity and uncontrolled temperature extremes were significant negatives. The crazy number of people also took some getting used to. Taken together, the net effect was to make me eager to return home. That was my only visit to earth. On the whole, I feel no sense of urgency to repeat the experience.
One exception to the negative tone of my impressions was the men. At first I thought they were a bit more polished (effete?) and reserved than Martian men. As I gained more experience, however, I realized there was a wonderful variety among them. I sampled terrestrial manhood as widely as time and decorum permitted. Not since my early extended education days had I been fucked so frequently by so many partners. On reflection, I might go back to earth if I could simply be a sexual tourist.
Darling Can was kind enough to fertilize me again shortly after my return. I have no idea why my sojourn away from my native planet caused me need to reproduce again. Perhaps missing some of Thars’ childhood made me want to reset the clock with a new baby. Or maybe it was just hormones. Whatever, it just felt so right.
It was not long after Willis’ birth that Selene and Can broke up housekeeping. Their term relationship had expired but they had continued in an informal arrangement for nearly a circ longer. On reflection, I think they may have delayed their break up out of concern for my needs.
Having completed my graduate work, I was at a “move on” point as well. I set up independent living arrangements for a short while but soon found that parenting and professional demands were too much to cope with alone.
A gay male graduate student with highly developed maternal instincts came to my attention. We eventually made a domestic arrangement wherein he cared for my children while I pursued the business of making a living. He even dropped out of his program for a while to be a full time “mother.” At its height, this was the best of all worlds for me. I was able to concentrate on my tenure-track career and maintain a robust sex life without neglecting the children.
Unfortunately, my domestic partner’s eventual sexual reassignment operation and his taking up with another man ended all that. But by that time, I had established myself professionally and was able to turn my attention back to my family. I therefore chose to maintain my independent living arrangements, seeking relationships with men as the need and opportunity arose.
This is really more than I was intending to write. In conclusion, I’d say my life is at a good stasis now. I see my parents and siblings (and their significant others) regularly enough that I’m glad to be with them and not frequently enough that I wish they would go away. No doubt the fact that my brothers and father still fuck me has a lot to do with the stability of our relationships.
Selene is still my friend and occasional lover. And Can pops up in my life regularly, too. No doubt the fact that I am raising his offspring is a large reason for his doing so, but we still enjoy sex together as well. I occasionally get the urge to have another baby. If that need ever becomes irresistible, Can will be at the head of the line of possible fathers.
Epilogue
Thanks to having written the foregoing, I have had a change of perspective. Although my children are not Freeholder children, they are of Martian pioneer stock. I now feel that I have an obligation to instill that tradition in them. I do not want them to feel they have to abide by contemporary rules and practices set down by nameless “others.” I want to imprint on them my values and encourage them to adopt the best of the old as they confront the new.
More than ever I’m insisting on maintaining a nude household. I now require that when they come home, those peer-mandated costumes – no matter how skimpy – come off. Their friends can visit and wear their outfits, but my children stay nude. Some of their friends have caught on and now they disrobe. Lately I’ve noticed a few have arrived naked.
I’ve given up clothes outside the home – again. I go to work, socialize and travel naked. When my daughter accompanies me, she takes it for granted that she’ll be bare also. I see her taking notice of other nude people, especially the younger ones. I hope she’s finding support in her “choice.”
I’ve renewed the sleeping arrangements from when my children were younger. They sleep together now unless one of them has an overnight guest. Thars is sexually active, so he brings his girlfriends home to fuck. That distraction notwithstanding, the renewed sleeping assignment seems to be having an effect. Willis and her brother seem to fight less and seem to confide in each other more. She is showing much more interest in Thars’ sexual activity. I also hear giggles emanating from their bedroom after they retire for the night. Casual sexual touching has also broken out between them at odd moments.
I bring men home for sex and make a point of fucking where my children can watch if they want to. With my best Freeholder casualness, I make a point displaying my naked body and my cunt to the children’s friends when they visit. Sometimes I insinuate myself into their conversations and casually volunteer stories of my sexual experiences during my youth. Although these accounts are familiar to my children, their friends seem interested and ask questions.
I achieved an unexpected break though when one of Thars’ male friends asked to fuck me. I not only agreed but also invited the boy to spend the night. I made it as memorable an experience for him as I could. Thars took note. He had me for the first time a few sols later. To his confusion, I wept after the experience. As an aside, I found him actually quite experienced.
I’m daring to hope that one morning, my son and daughter will emerge from their room with that look that young lovers wear. Maybe they will prove to be Freeholder children after all.
End