It's Always Time Act 01

"Three Ds," Dee repeated, entranced. His manhood jutted out to its full length, and the green girl's mouth watered so much her lips brimmed over in a steady stream of green that flowed down her chin only to be absorbed by her slowly swelling chest. Dee didn't seem to notice.

"Vitamin D," she said, waving to the open window. The light of the afternoon glistened off her in a buttery sheen.

"Sunlight," Dee said.

She tilted her head, listening to the still-running kitchen sink. "Dioxy hydrogenate."

Dee blinked. "Water," he said, "that's a long way to go for a pun but okay."

She rocked her hips out even farther to run the oil over her mound and down her inner thighs. "Mm," she said, the fountain from her mouth forming a viridian puddle on the floor, "and vitamin D."

"You said 'Sun' already," Dee reminded.

"No, smartass," she said. She squirmed down a bit more then quickly stood up—and kept surfing up, her abdomen stretching high into the air and then downward in a graceful, fluid curve that brought the upper half of her body right onto Dee's cock.

"Vitamin Dee," she cooed, and gobbled him down.

The green girl growled, mashing her swollen tits around Dee's thighs, burying her head so deep between his legs that her button nose ground into his pubic hair. An inhuman, hydraulic pressure thrummed deep in her chest and his dick was vacuum-locked tight within her rapacious flesh. Even in the throes of knee-buckling blowjob, Dee realized that "rapacious" was the perfect word. This was like being sexually assaulted by an angry key-lime pie in a pneumatic press. He tried to backpedal but only succeeded in wallowing deeper in her cloying cleavage, an insect drawn further down the throat of a pitcher plant by its own futile struggles. "Wait a minute," he said, laughing.

She rolled back a bit to give him the teeniest margin of breathing room. When she spoke her lips would brush the tip of his cock with syrup on every other word. "It's been over ten minutes since my last titfuck already!" She groused, brow furrowing. "I want more."

Her mouth opened wide to utter a guttural "Now!" and countless rows of green, serrated, shark-teeth unfurled behind her sloppy lips. He winced as she brought them down on his defenseless glans only to fall to his knees in helpless delight as hundreds of those rubbery points wriggled and gnawed over the head of his cock. That little prudish, frightened voice from the back of his mind returned, trying to be heard over the green girl's demanding, meowing cries of "Nowwwnyum! Nowwwnrrrum!": You've been doing this non-stop for two and a half days, remember? And she can't even wait fifteen minutes! Hold on, I'm just turning you on more, aren't I? You’re a lost cause! I hope she makes you orgasm so much your penis turns inside out. That turns you on too? What kind of sick fuck are you? That Blue Fairy can kiss my chitinous, cricketty ass. I'm outta here.

"Wait a minute," he said again. "Wait-a-minute!"

She sloshed up and away, rolling her eyes. Her tummy still stretched long through the air, her bellybutton somewhere in the middle of its lazy arch. Her feet tapped an impatient rhythm on the other side of the room. "Jesus, you are such a girl! What, you want dinner and a movie first?"

"Well, no, but—"

"Okay," the green girl said, "some wooing, maybe?"

Her face glided back down close to his crotch. She crossed her eyes in a vapid gaze. "Hello, darling," she said to his dick in a dreamy singsong. She clasped her hands to her bosom. "Oh, I missed you ever so much!"

Dee tried his best to frown but found himself smiling instead. She met his smile with an impish grin. "Formality, then," she said, and turned back to speak to his dick. "Hey there, handsome!" She pumped his cock in a quick, hearty, gushy handshake. Dee yipped and bucked against her ambush hand-job but she just grabbed his shaft with both hands, pumping away like a crooked politician desperate to make a good impression. "Nice to meetcha! What's yer name young fella?"

Dee lurched, rigid and awkward. His erection flagged. "It doesn't have a name," he said.

The green girl stopped the attack but did not let go. She looked up at him in that crinkle of confusion Dee suddenly realized he found adorable. "I thought every guy named his dick."

"I don't. I'm just me. It's a part of me. I know that sounds stupid, but it's important to me."

She looked back down at his dick, treating it to long languid strokes, slowly bringing it back to throbbing life. "I think it should have a name," said the green girl, "because it's important to me."

Dee shook his head, distracted by the luscious, languorous sensation of her working him over. "Well, you don't have a name, and you’re a part of—I mean you're important to…me," he trailed off, realizing what he'd said.

Her face and neck flushed so dark they turned black. The lower half of her body tiptoed over and her top rocked back onto it, standing beside him. "You got your minute," she whispered. Then, louder, "You have a suggestion, I take it?"

"Uh-huh," he said, turning to face her. "First, no tricks or Techniques, please."

She nodded. "All-righty."

"Promise?"

She furrowed a curved X-shape in the swell of her left breast. "Cross my heart."

"Okay, here's my proposal: You can name my penis, if I get to name you. But before that…"

Dee cupped the green girl's chin in his right hand and gently turned her head to her left before wrapping his other arm around a her cool, rubbery back. His lips pushed into her ear. The ear immediately began to burn and melt. He dropped the palm of his right hand onto the gel-flesh below her sternum (or where her sternum would be if she had one). His hand ran down her, the pressure of his caress gradually increasing so that by the time he reached her now-sopping sex his curling fingers were raking deep inside her yielding substance. Her whole body wracked in shivering spasms, the green girl wrapped both hands around his wrist to push his hand in even deeper. She mewled and sobbed in desperate pleasure. The spikes of her hair collapsed into green velvet ribbons of icing coursing down Dee's neck.

"We fuck," he finished.

* * * *

The green girl's pussy was unwrought but ravenous like no other, her womb craving to devour not conceive. It drank up Dee's hand, then his wrist, then his forearm in three lurching whorls of her innermost gel. Dee reeled under the pressure and heat but his G-rated, Jimminy Cricket of a conscience that had kept him ashamed of his own deviant desires for so long, was now long gone. He felt no fear, only a humbling joy of being the subject of a desire so strong it wanted to swallow him whole. Well, all right, only a humbling joy and the urgent need to screw the living fuck out of the most glorious cunt in the world, which just so happened to belong to the sexiest girl in the universe, whose one desire just so happened to be his cock.

I guess it isn't so humbling after all, he decided.

The green girl, however, had cried out in lust salted with fear and alarm after each reversed contraction, as if betrayed by her own flesh laying her deepest secrets bare. She pressed her fists into her mouth, trying to muffle her whimpering babble. Dee thought most of her mutterings sounded like the whispery glossolalia that had overcome some of his past lovers when approaching orgasm, but then she shakily reached out to him, batting at his chest one instant and pawing at it the next, and he heard her clearly. It worried him.

"It's time? It's time? Is it time? It's time?"

He held her close, but she wouldn't stop trembling. "Is it time? It's time? It's time? It's time? Is it time?"

He kissed her on a forehead as pliant as most women's lips. "Only if you want it to be," he said, and tenderly withdrew his arm. She moaned in despair but did not move to stop him and his arm slid free, gloved in molten green gunk so hot it steamed when touched by the cooling air. The stuff radiated up his arm then splayed across his shoulder and chest in ever-thinning tendrils, until nothing but blots like tiny green beads of mercury rolled over every curve and crevice of his body before vanishing to nothing. It wanted to surround me, Dee thought, to embrace me, but there wasn't enough of it. He stepped back.

The geek and the green girl regarded each other. Dee stood tall and lanky, an unruly tangle of tightly curled, chestnut hair tufting his head, his relaxed, ready stance belying a hidden grace and strength. The green girl was as curvaceous as ever, but to keep her figure with her reduced mass, some lost to the champagne blowjob and the rest sluicing away now from her passion, she barely stood over five feet tall. Her arms thrust down and out, fists shaking. She couldn't seem to dare meet his gaze, or even look down at his erect manhood. Her stormy eyes roved over him, unseeing. She spoke in a stage whisper, hoarse yet high-pitched, sad yet anxious. "I'm ready. I'm ready. I'm ready. I'm ready. I'm ready."

The curved X still furrowed her left breast like a raw wound that refused to heal. A recollection of something she had said ["…Fridge. You. Before that? Dunno…"] and a realization of what he had done, or rather, what he had failed to do, hit Dee hard. "This is just like before, isn't it?" he asked. "This is exactly your first memory: of me like this, and you, like that." He stepped forward. "But it's not. Not really, because I'm different now. I'm not afraid, or ashamed, anymore, and I was never ashamed of you."

The green girl fell onto her hands and knees which soon lost their form to the growing green lake, now lapping at Dee's feet on the floor. She turned about, pressed her head to the floor, and presented her gushing sex to him. "Please," she whispered. "Please. Is it time?"

Dee waded to her. "It's time," he said, kneeling behind her. "It's always time." He reached out and hugged her deliquescing body close. She arched up into his chest, throwing her head back to spatter him in searing green honey. A bubbling cry of wordless delight tore from her throat.

"It always will be time." Dee slid his arms under her stomach and cupped her breasts, his hands drowning in their curtaining flood. The green girl groaned, swung her head from side to side, her hair nothing but waves of warm sugary froth. Dee kissed the ambrosia off the nape of her neck.

"You are Galatea, and it's always time," Dee said, rocked forward on his haunches, and entered into her.

Galatea went nova with his first thrust. She reared, arms thrown wide, screaming in raw abandon. Dee locked his arms betwixt her breasts, cheek turned against the flat of her back, and rode the foaming wave. He tried to call her name, but her liquid interior clutched and blazed around his cock, reducing him to snarling need. The cresting of her thrash forced Dee to his feet and threatened to engulf him completely but did nothing to satisfy the primal demand to drive himself even deeper. His hands clawed, breaking the surface tension of Galatea's gel-flesh chest to get a strong grip, and he spun about, whipping her around and splattering her face-down onto the bed, never withdrawing from her consuming sex. He pulled his arms through and out so he could straddle her ass, then pushed his palms down and in to find purchase for each lunge.

Galatea found her voice, dreamy and feverish. "Oh, my God, it's so solid."

She propped herself up, trapping his arms within her, to slosh and grind her body against his, reaching back to run a sticky hand over Dee's neck and through his hair. "He's. So. Fucking. Solid!" Dee never imagined that a word like "solid" could sound so pornographic, but it burst from her lips like it was the bluest dirty-talk in the world.

He tried to call her name again—"Gala—" but she drew his head down into a blistering, citrus kiss that obliterated any rational thought. He wrenched an arm free from the honey-trap of her viscid flesh, twined the frothing sickles of her hair in his fingers, and rammed her back down onto the bed. "Yes!" Galatea barked as her head hit the bed with a resounding splat. "So good. So deep. So solid!"

The green lake around the rutting lovers turned tidal. White-capped waves churned in a miniature maelstrom then leapt into the air in long, jetting ribbons that corkscrewed around Dee at break-neck speed before stabbing down into Galatea, refueling her fluidity. Dee felt pressure build within him.

"What's my name?" moaned Galatea.

Dee tried to speak but only growled, ploughing his fingers through her back. Galatea yelped in ecstasy but pushed herself up off the bed, leering at him over her shoulder. The green streamers hurtled around Dee, cracking like whips, funneling down to feed Galatea's coalescing form. Dee felt the pressure begin to brim.

"What's my name?" called Galatea.

Dee could only hiss through gritted teeth. He gathered her up in his arms to hug her close, feeling her flesh press tight against him as she grew. He bit down on her neck so hard his teeth met in her throat. She lurched away just enough to cry, "God! Yes!" before rutting hard against him. A great crescent of green flashed into her and suddenly his hips joined his dick inside her scorching cunt.

"What's my fucking name?" demanded Galatea.

A final thrust and Dee's legs locked. "Galatea!" he bellowed, and flooded her with his cum.

* * * *
Fever, when you kiss them,
Fever if you live and learn
Fever! 'Til you sizzle
What a lovely way to burn.

—Peggy Lee, Fever
* * * *
Chapter Three: That Wave

The green girl startled with Dee's first spurt, giving him a searching glance over her shoulder. Her eyes soon glazed, lips parting in a lazy, helpless smile, watching as Dee's orgasm ebbed and Dee pressed a fist into the sopping mattress to hold himself up. She rolled gently on her side, her gaze heavy-lidded and unfocused, and slipped away from Dee's cock, making him shudder and gasp. Galatea curled up to hug her knees and nestle them under her neck. Three throaty, breathless giggles bubbled through her, "Ah-hah, ah-hum, hm-mm."

Dee splashed down into the bed next to her. Galatea rolled over to face him, watching his chest heave as he gulped for air. "We are definitely going to do that again," she told him, "a lot."

He smiled. "It was good, then? You liked it?" He lifted a hand off the bed. It was slick with her fluid. He dropped his hand back down and the soaked coverlet squelched. "Kinda hard to tell."

She just arched an eyebrow and hummed. She sat up, spread her legs, and rubbed a hand over her raw sex. "I was wondering what this was for," she joked.

Dee rolled his eyes to the ceiling, reached for a pillow, and plopped it over his head. "Lord all-mighty," he sighed.

Galatea's fingers came away sticky with Dee's sperm. She stared at them for a while. With a quick check to make sure Dee wasn't looking, she pressed them deep into the folds of her pussy, her face a mask of sublime longing. She shook the expression off and bounced out of bed. Dee pulled the pillow away from his eyes. "Goodbye?" he said.

"I'm thirsty," she said. Dee watched the spectacular orbit of her ass as she padded away from him. "I'm always thirsty after sex. Probably."

"What about…?" Dee asked, and squeezed the coverlet with both hands. It burbled.

"I'm using it already." The citrine stuff was flowing to follow her to the door. "I'm going to go get a drink," she said, adding in perfect deadpan, "and when I come back, I am going to fuck the ever living shit out of you."

Dee blinked. "Uh," he chuckled uncertainly, "I really don't think I can go another round right now."

She dismissed him with a wave of her arm, and walked out into the hallway, green rivulets chasing after her. "Pfft. Yeah, right. Tell that to mine."

"Mine?" Dee asked.

"Not yours, 'Mine,'" came Galatea's voice. The sound of the kitchen sink, a constant background noise for some time, stopped.

"I don't understand," Dee called out over the loud splashing and gurgling sounds coming from the kitchen. "What's 'mine'?"

"The name of your dick."

He glanced down at Mine, still pointing straight at the ceiling. "Oh, fuck me."

"You got that right, bright boy."

Dee gingerly inspected the head of his dick. It was as sensitive and primed as ever. "Seriously. I think something's wrong with me. A guy can't keep going like this, no matter what you've read on the Internet. I think I need to see a urologist or something."

"Nah." Galatea's voice drifted down the hallway. "Just stop thinking with the wrong head. Your dick knows what's coming, even if you don't."

"What's coming?" Dee sat up. "Remember, you promised—"

"Man," Galatea said, ignoring him, "you really did a number on your kitchen." The splashing and gurgling continued, as if Galatea were playing in a giant but slowly draining bathtub. "There's a lot of water in here."

Glad for the change of subject, Dee said, "There goes my security deposit."

Dee heard something creak and groan, metal stressing under pressure. "Oh, don't worry," Galatea called, her voice oddly amplified and doubled (tripled?) with echoes, amused but sinister. A rushing roar started up, the bedroom floor atremble. "I took care of it."

A green deluge decanted into the bedroom, an endless, hollow, curling wave of melted Jell-O. It broke into s sleeting spray against the opposing bedroom wall until the floor seethed with spume. Dee sat agog on the bed, possessed by the giddy illusion that he had been cast adrift on an aquamarine gel sea.

A pair of supple hands reached out of the sea-foam teeming at the foot of the bed. The hands entwined, back-to-back, palms facing out. Sinuous arms arose. A face of Hellenic beauty soon followed, turned away from Dee in blushing, virginal modesty. When her mouth broke the surface of the foam she gasped, orgasmic, scraping her sensuous lips over an upraised forearm. Wild locks of the woman's mane billowed in an unfelt breeze. Only a mark branded upon her left breast, a curving X, disrupted her perfect, symmetrical beauty. Emerging from the foam, she untwined her arms, gathered up overflowing handfuls hair, and slowly drew them down and around her breasts and hips, fingertips kissing her skin. Swaying in post-coital lethargy, an apple-green Venus from the fever-dreams of Botticelli was born at Dee's feet.

Dee blushed, blood singing in his ears. "I'm not worth this," he said, a bitter smile breaking through smarting tears. "I've done nothing to earn anything like this."

The jade Venus stepped up onto the bed and knelt beside him to his right, taking his hands in hers. Dee could not bear to meet her gaze and shut his eyes tight, spilling the tears that brimmed in his eyes. "Kiss me," she said in Galatea's steamy voice, planting a series of quick, open-mouthed kisses on Dee's face, drinking up the teardrops. "Just kiss me," she whispered, raining those same succulent little kisses on his lips.

Venus was holding his trembling hands in her lap when someone cupped his chin and gently turned his face away from her in mid-kiss. Dee blinked open his stinging eyes.

A lithe feminine form the pale green color of absinthe sat cross-legged to his left. Her ears tapered to high points above a mop of thick, loose curls. Her dragonfly wings, green but translucent, stretched out from her back, buzzing the air when he gaped at her. The green fairy's face was as exotic and inscrutable as the Moon, her left breast branded with the curving X. She wound her other hand through his hair. "Drink me," she said in Galatea's voice, and pulled him down onto an upturned nipple that filled his mouth with a burning liqueur.

Head spinning, Dee swallowed once, then twice. Venus tugged his hands, pulling him back, and tongued the remaining liqueur from his mouth, only to lose him to the strong embrace of the green fairy again. The green fairy cradled his head in one hand and guided a cordial-seeping nipple to his lips with the other, while Venus tugged impatiently at his arms—and a third pair of hands grabbed his by the shoulders, wrenched him down onto the bed, and wedged his head tight between fleshy green thighs.