The Y-Virus Ch. 06

I retrieved my clothes out of the drawer and got dressed. Nancy disposed of the latex gloves she used and wrote something down on her tablet device. When she finished she looked up at me with a glowing smile and offered to escort me to Akira's quarters. I accepted.

We walked through the usual corridors and used the elevator once again. Every woman that we passed in the halls would put a hand over her mouth and whisper something to the other standing next to her and soon they would both be giggling like little school girls. The men we passed—which were only three—simply winked and patted me on the shoulder. It wasn't a secret; they all knew what was going to happen and it was considered a happy day by all. Soon nearly half the fertile women in the CDC would be pregnant and life would go on as it should have before the Y-Virus.

Before I knew it, I was standing before Akira Minoko's door. I knocked a few times but there was no answer. I knocked again with the same results. I turned to Nancy and shrugged. She also shrugged but her eyes soon became wide when she pointed behind me.

"Ah, here she comes." Nancy said cheerily.

I turned around in time to see Akira finishing her turn at the corner of the long hallway. She started walking, but her pace quickened when she saw me standing in front of her door. It seemed the closer she came to me, the faster she was moving. I daresay she was almost running at me by the time we collided in a passionate hug. She was incredibly happy to see me. I swear I've never seen her that happy before. I imagine I looked just as happy as she did—I felt as happy, for sure.

We kissed for what seemed like an eternity. We were only snapped out of our joyous delirium by the fake cough of Nancy Weller.

"Well, if there's nothing else, I'll take my leave. Are you sure you won't need somebody to stand guard for you, Akira?" Nancy said as she brought a finger up to the buttons of her wrist remote, yet not touching them. My eyes flashed with brief worry when I saw her do this.

"No. It won't be necessary. Thanks though." Akira said with a smile before she kissed me again.

"Very well. I'll just leave you two to your . . . business." Nancy smiled wide and turned around to go on her way. I didn't see her turn the corner because I was far too preoccupied with Akira's lips.

Akira only broke the kiss so that she could open the door and welcome me into her quarters, which I hadn't seen until this moment. It was a reasonably sized room; not too big, not to small. There was a restroom behind one door and a closet behind another. She had two windows and many other basic amenities (electric amenities all thanks to Amy Hocke and her knowledge of generator repair). She had a few medical posters taped up against her wall for quick reference and a bookshelf filled with knowledge of all disciplines. My attention was drawn to the most important feature in the room: her full-size bed. It seemed adequate enough to hold both our bodies during sex.

When I turned to look at her she closed the door and locked it. She turned to face me and walked up to me. I admit I was expecting her to pounce on me, but she controlled herself more effectively now. She brought her lips up to mine and we kissed again.

When the kiss was finally broken, she whispered to me, "I have something special for us. Close your eyes."

I did.

I was half expecting her to take her clothes off, and, after doing so, she would tell me to open my eyes again. But I didn't hear the ruffling of clothes. I heard her open a door—her closet—and grab something from a high place and then close the door. I was able to deduce that she was carrying a few things made of glass judging from the clanking sound that was made as she walked. Her footsteps moved in front of me before stopping abruptly.

"Okay, open 'em."

I did.

She stood before me with a bottle of red wine in one hand and a pair of wine glasses in the other. I admit that I was very horny and thinking purely sexual thoughts and was expecting something more along the lines of sexy lingerie. That's not to say that I wasn't pleased with her surprise, I was. I enjoyed wine very much, particularly red wine.

Suddenly I remembered my brief bout with alcoholism a few months before freezing myself. It didn't seem like such a long time ago to me, but the reality was that I hadn't had a drink in well over 281 years. For a moment I was worried that drinking wine with Akira might have some sort of domino effect and lead me down that ugly road again, but this fear soon washed away. I knew that I wouldn't have any real reason to abuse alcohol anymore. I was extremely valuable in the time to which I lived now, and there were women that actually seemed to like me . . . and want me.

I leaned forward and saw that it was a bottle of Chianti, my favorite Italian wine. It was even in a traditional squat bottle in a straw basket. I was impressed with her taste. It was almost too good to be true: a beautiful Japanese woman with an hourglass figure and an ass to kill for wanting to have sex with me, a bottle of my favorite red wine to share, a few more beautiful women that I was due to impregnate, and, on top of everything else, Akira understood very well that it was necessary for me to impregnate these other women. She showed no signs of jealousy whatsoever. For a brief moment I thought I was in heaven, and, compared to what my life was like before I was cryogenically frozen, I was.

But there was another thought that crossed my mind; a thought that concerned my safety.

"That's a very nice wine, Akira. But isn't there a chance that it could be contaminated with the Y-Virus?"

"Not at all," Akira assured me. "The virus started killing the men in June of 2306. The virus has a six-week incubation period. This wine was bottled in 2302." She pointed to the vintage on the label. She was right and I felt a little foolish. But at the same time I wasn't too harsh on myself for inquiring. After all, my life would've been on the line.

"Oh," I said stupidly, "yeah, you're right. Sorry."

She chuckled a little at the reaction I made to her logic. I joined in with her and laughed at myself.

I was still very horny and sporting a bulge in the front of my pants. I wanted to change the subject back to the real reason why we were both here, but I didn't want to seem rude about it. Her surprise was very nice when it came right down to it. It was a seven-year-old bottle of Chianti and I couldn't ignore what she probably had to go through in order to get it inside the CDC without Dr. Miller knowing (Alexis had strict rules about alcohol inside the facility).

"That's very romantic, Akira. I do love it, but I hope you won't think it rude of me to say this . . . I'm sort of in the mood to do what needs to be done, if you catch my meaning."

She looked down at the bulge in my pants and grinned.

I continued, "I just don't want the alcohol to affect my performance. I'm sure you can appreciate my concern." I gave her a playful smile that practically said "you still want me to give it to you good, don't you?"

"Of course," She fought the urge to snicker, "I was thinking that we could share this after round one . . . or two."

"That sounds like a good idea, but as of right now . . . I need you." I pressed myself against her and kissed her deeply. I let my hands move down to her ass and I began to fondle it. She brought her arms up and around me, bottle and glasses still in hand, and returned my kiss in spades. When she broke away from my lips, she placed the bottle and two glasses on her desk in the corner. She wasted no time in pulling her clothes off.

I figured that I would play a little game in my mind: Can I get naked before she does?

I won only because she struggled getting her bra off. I walked up behind her and playfully brushed the tip of my hard cock up the crack of her flawless ass, and helped her with the pesky bra. She giggled when she felt my penis slide up her ass.

"For the first time in my life I hope that was a penis and not a roll of quarters." She said and laughed. I couldn't help but laugh too.

She took the initiative and turned around, put her hands on my shoulders, pushed me onto her bed, and climbed on top of me. I didn't have time to say much because she locked her lips to mine again. I couldn't have—or would have—protested. I love it when women take the initiative and make what they want known.

We made out for a while before she took hold of my hard cock and brought it up to the folds of her moistening vagina. She didn't allow me to penetrate her just yet. She paused for a moment and it became obvious to me that she wanted to savor this moment. I couldn't blame her after spending three years without anyone of the opposite sex to sate her lust. She took a deep breath and began lowering herself on my rigid penis. Her mouth formed a perfect "O" as the head of my eight-inch cock passed through her feminine threshold. She slowed down as she began to take more of my length inside her, but even I must've had a similar expression once I was completely inside her. Her pussy felt like wet, warm silk wrapped tightly around my cock.

It got even better for the both of us when she started rocking back and forth. It was slow at first; her breasts started bounding every which way as she gradually picked up speed and acquired a steady rhythm. I was compelled to hold her breasts steady. They were adorable C-cup breasts with small brown nipples that are typical of Asian women. I circled them with my thumb, or at least tried to. It was a bit of a challenge with her moving faster and faster.

She brought her hands up and over my own. I swear I could feel what she wanted, and so I gave her nipples a few gentle pinches.

"Oooohh! Yes! That fells amazing. Do it again." She commanded.

I didn't need to be told twice; I pinched them gradually harder.

"Ooooohhh! Yes, just like that!" She now bit her bottom lip.

I pinched them until I found the right pressure she was wanting. She let me know, too. She was very vocal in what she wanted. As my pinching drew closer to what she liked, she slid harder back and forth on my dick. It eventually got to the point where she was no longer sliding back and forth, but bouncing up and down on my cock with the use of her legs. She reminded me of a cowgirl riding a wild stallion.

As much as I wanted to fondle her ass, I refrained from doing it because I wanted to make this experience count for her. I knew now that she liked having her nipples pinched and played with, and I was intent on using this knowledge to my advantage. I alternated between pinching her nipples and squeezing the whole of her breasts. This really seemed to drive her off the wall. She started speaking Japanese as we brought each other closer to climax. I don't know how to speak Japanese, but I knew she was saying "yes" every time she moved herself down on my cock toward the end.

She leaned forward and I let go of her breasts. She planted her lips onto mine with more force than I thought her capable of. She managed to keep impaling herself on my shaft even as we kissed. I felt my orgasm approaching. When she broke the kiss, she said, in English, "Ooooohhh! Please! Please! Please, give it to me! I want it! I NEED IT . . . NOW!!"

I felt her vaginal muscles contract around my cock. This brought me to orgasm and we shouted in unison. I filled her with my precious seed. We kept moving together for a little while after. It wasn't until she finally collapsed onto my chest that we slowed ourselves. When we finally stopped thrusting, our breathing became less labored, our wits scattered, our pleasure whole.

I performed my most vital and necessary function for the first of many times. For a long time, leading up to this day, I was worried that having sex on a schedule would somehow diminish any spark or passion for the act itself, as if the sex would likely become more of a chore than an act of desire or lust. Over the coming months I would learn that this wouldn't be the case—at least for me.

Akira and I must have laid there together for at least half an hour. I played with her straight, jet-black hair with the fingers of one hand while I massaged her ass with the other. She nudged her face against the base of my neck and kissed it a few times.

After we had enough time to gather our strength, Akira shifted her body in the bed, got up, and grabbed the bottle of wine and the two glasses. She handed them to me before going to get the corkscrew in one of the drawers. My eyes followed the seductive bounce and wiggle of her ass as she walked away. It was the best, and only, thing to look at in my opinion. I got the impression that she walked the way she did (swaying her hips in slight exaggeration) because she knew that's what I liked. I couldn't deny it: she knew how to keep my attention, even when I was sexually spent.

I opened the bottle and poured the wine after she handed me the corkscrew. We brought our glasses together in the spirit of cheers and drank to the future of humanity, to the health and happiness of our future child, and to the development of a stable vaccine to the Y-Virus.

We drank slowly, enjoying the slight smoky taste of the Italian red. After our first glass, Akira asked if it would be okay to name our child Kenji if we had a boy. She wanted to honor the memory of her late father. I couldn't say no. How could I? Besides, I had given no thought up to this point about names for my children. I felt I had a lot of work to do in thinking some up, but fortunately most of the women had already thought up names for when the time came.

"I like that name . . . Kenji. What if we have a girl?" I asked.

"I was thinking of Kasumi. But if you'd like something a bit more American—"

"No!" I interrupted. "No, it's beautiful. I like it. Besides, American/English names all sound pretty dull to me. I even hate my name . . . Ryan."

"Really? I like it." She smiled at me. It was one of her contagious smiles and I couldn't help but return it. "Okay, Katsumi it is, if it's a girl." She leaned forward and kissed me.

We both had a second glass of the Chianti and the bottle was empty. I had a slight buzz, but since Akira was smaller and didn't drink very often, she felt its effect a little more. She wasn't drunk; she just started behaving a little more silly than usual.

We joked about a few things and talked about some of the hopes I used to have for myself when I was in high school. I started to feel a little bad because I hadn't really done anything worthwhile in my life, and yet Akira had graduated medical school just months before the Y-Virus plagued the world. I think Akira could sense that this topic was making me feel worthless, and so she fought the urge to be silly and, for a moment, became serious.

She put a soft, warm hand up to my cheek when she picked up on my feelings and told me that I was much more important than I ever thought possible when I was in the twenty-first century. She had a serious look, yet it was still glowing and kind. In this moment I remembered why I was having feelings for her.

I admired the way she was able to make me feel better about myself. My family and friends tried several times to convince me that I had value and worth during my intervention. To put it bluntly: I wasn't worth much back then and I knew it. When I froze myself, I wanted to awaken in a future where I'd be given a chance to start over and be something of value to society, to a single person, or perhaps even to a historical organization (this thought had occurred to me a few times pre-cryogenic stasis. Call it a fantasy if you want, but I did allow the thought to cross over my alcohol-addled brain). Akira's words took their effect on me and I felt a swelling of purpose and significance again.

Yes, I was worth something, and not just something—everything: the future of the human race.

I figured that all the other men in the CDC felt a similar way. Even Keith Morrell, my new gay friend, probably felt this way.

I continued to smile at Akira and brought my hand up to her cheek. In that moment we were mirror reflections of one another: each with a hand on the other's cheek. The warmth of her skin intensified as her cheeks began to blush a rosy color. I couldn't contain my passion much longer . . . I kissed her again. I didn't break the kiss right away; I kept my lips on hers. She kissed me back even though she seemed surprised by my sudden desire.

I began to grow erect before I broke the kiss. I said, "I think I'm falling for you."

She didn't say anything and kissed me back.

This continued for a little while longer until I was fully erect. The desire I felt for her was overwhelming. I gently brought her naked body down on the bed beneath me. She giggled a little as I kissed her neck (she was very ticklish). We both soon giggled like two teenagers discovering sex for the first time. I brought my hand down in between her legs and felt her getting moist again. I massaged her clit for a minute or so before penetrating her with my hard cock. She gasped when I worked the head of my penis through the folds of her vagina. She surprised me further when she maneuvered her legs over my shoulders. This allowed me easier penetration and I soon found myself inside her as deep as possible.

I moved my pelvis back and forth slowly at first. I needed to pace myself after our last bout of intercourse. I thrust into her in this position for a while. Even though I enjoyed it immensely, I wasn't entirely satisfied. I loved her ass more than any other erogenous part of her body. I flipped her over onto her hands and knees so I could see her ass bounce and jiggle as I slammed into her. She didn't object to this; in fact, she seemed to like the doggy-style position.

I lost sight of everything we were talking about and focused on getting my rocks off, as the saying goes. It was the only thing that really mattered to me at the time. I even took the risk of spanking her ass a few times as I pushed into her. She never shocked my balls with her wrist remote, so I figured she liked it.

"Yes, right there! Keep it up!" She commanded as I reached underneath and rubbed her clitoris.

Both our bodies began to glisten. Akira, more appropriately, glowed when she began to sweat. My thrusts grew more violent as my cock plunged harder into her. When I stopped massaging her clit with my fingers, my balls took over and repeatedly slapped against it with each forward thrust. She would later tell me how much she adored the "ball-slap" against her pussy.

I felt my balls begin to tighten and pull themselves up to my pelvis (at least as much as they could with the TestiTracker still locked around my scrotum). I was moments away from filling her up again. Akira was in the throes of pleasure and wasn't formulating any coherent speech. She was uttering incomplete sentences under her heavy breath. I couldn't blame her; I was practically doing the same thing. My balls tightened and pulled themselves up one final time, releasing their precious contents into Akira. If I didn't provided enough sperm to impregnate her the first time, I did on the second attempt without a doubt.

I would love nothing more than to say that I fucked Akira a dozen times and brought her to a screaming orgasm each and every time, but that would be an obvious lie. The truth is we only had sex twice that day. I may be young, but I'm not Superman. I just didn't have it in me to fuck her more than I did.

We did, however, fool around a bit before returning to the public areas of the CDC. Most of it was pretty typical: hugging, kissing, fondling. The one thing that really stood out, at least from my point of view, was when I bathed her (since the TestiTracker was an electrical device, I couldn't enter the tub with her. Akira would take off her wrist remote before entering the tub for the same safety reason).