Gender: N/A Age: N/A Location: N/A
Death by Fucking © 2004 by Andrew Wiggin
Chapter 23 A Lifetime of Love
The Year 50
Old. I used to complain that I was getting old. But now I’ve been old seemingly forever. I sometimes feel very tired.
Nowadays I often sit remembering. I’ve seen children and grandchildren, things I never expect to see. I have the love of a wonderful man. My sister still lives, still my other half. Who could have asked for a better life? I only despair that it started so late. I was all of thirty-five before my life really began.
Still, today thirty-five seems very young. I’ve thought about regeneration. New Man U. has been busy these last forty years. We’ve seen advances in all the sciences. But the advances we’ve kept most under wraps have been those regarding longevity. Our progress has been remarkable in understanding the ageing process and how to slow it or even reverse it.
But in a world too crowded by far, how can it help to live longer lives? These advances we’ve been saving for the Star Project. In space longevity has real value. Our engines are still sub-light. If we are to get out of this solar system, we need long-lived astronauts.
Andrew and Dee Dee and I agreed long ago that we would not abuse our privileged positions. So the regeneration procedures, the anti-ageing formulae go unused. I’m honest enough with myself to admit that I sometimes wish…
Too late. It’s far too late to resort to such measures. My health has been slipping for years. My life is good, surrounded by the people I love. But I am tired.
I think Dee Dee and Andrew know. Usually Andrew treats me with just a degree of sarcasm, knowing that I give it back double. We have a laugh-filled relationship. But recently he has become very solicitous. He’s worried and he’s sad.
So this morning I woke him with a gift that I haven’t given him for quite a while. He’s still a virile man, even at 75. He sleeps between Deirdre and me, as always, with one arm around each of us. I love to be wrapped in his arms.
I was awake before Andrew. I saw Dee Dee stirring and caught her eye when she glanced in my direction. I gave a little smile and nodded my head slightly towards Andrew’s midsection. It’s been so long since we woke him with a morning blowjob. That’s always been such fun.
One might think that eighty-five year old women must be perfect for giving blowjobs since they have no teeth. Please. Perhaps my teeth are mostly implants, but I assure you that I have a mouthful of them. No dick-gumming was in the offing.
I slipped the sheet down so that Andrew was exposed. He still sleeps naked and is still beautiful. Both Deirdre and I crawled down till our heads were level with Andrew’s waist. We reached out simultaneously and began fondling his lovely penis. We were looking in each other’s eyes, smiling. Over many years we have become extremely well coordinated in this particular function. We were like synchronized swimmers; synchronized fellatrixes. We both understood our roles.
Andrew became rapidly erect, even though he was still asleep. A problem with getting older is that one sleeps far more lightly the older one gets. Ten years ago we might have had Andrew close to a climax before he woke up. But this time his eyes flew open and he was moaning shortly after he achieved full erection.
I pulled my mouth off the head of his dick and looked up smiling sweetly. “Well, we don’t need to worry about osteoporosis in this bone!”
Andrew groaned. “Christ, Donnie. I’m too old for this. You’re going to give me a heart attack. That’s it, isn’t it? You two want to kill me and collect the insurance.”
The way he was pushing against Dee Dee’s embrace I could tell he was loving it, as always. So I just grinned up at him and said, “Hold on, Andrew. It’s going to be a bumpy ride.”
I recaptured the head of his dick in my mouth. As I sucked him my tongue massaged that particularly sensitive section under the hood. Andrew relaxed and a beatific smile came on his face. Dee Dee was stroking his shaft while sucking on his balls. Andrew could always last seemingly forever during intercourse. But a two headed blowjob must be his favorite, because he comes so quickly and so hard.
I felt his butt lift off the bed as his dick slid deeper into my throat. It began to pump his semen into my mouth. I swallowed quickly, but was in no danger of overflow. Andrew doesn’t have as much in him as he used to. Nor do us all.
He pulled me up and held me in his arms. I just love being in his arms. He held me in that gentle embrace that I’ve come to know recently, as if he were afraid that I would break. Well, he might be right.
Deirdre came up his other side and then he was holding both of us, giving us soft kisses and whispering sweet nothings.
“Thank you, girls, I really needed that.” He had a look of peaceful satisfaction on his face.
Deirdre smiled. “Well Andrew it was our pleasure. We wouldn’t want you to be having wet dreams on us now, would we?”
I caught on to her cue. We like to tease him. “Yes, it’s uncomfortable sleeping in those wet spots. And when you come right on us in the middle of the night! That’s very cold you know.”
He can take it and he can dish it out. “Hey! Hey! To me it sounds pretty hot! And as I remember there have been a lot of wet spots I’ve been forced to sleep in over the years. You didn’t hear me complaining then, did you?”
Deirdre said, “Andrew if our hearing were as bad as yours, we wouldn’t have heard anything anyway.”
Andrew looked smug. “Girls after going down on what was obviously a fully functional dick, you should know that ‘old jokes’ just don’t work on me.”
Deirdre laughed. “Yes, Andrew you’ve always been so proud of your dick. It seems to be able to function even when the rest of you can’t.”
I joined in. “Yes, Dee Dee, we are in the presence of the world’s most famous dick. The honor is almost overwhelming.”
Andrew said, “Yeah? Well wait an hour and I’ll show you honor!”
I said skeptically, “An hour?”
He began to hem and haw. “Well, maybe two or three hours. No more than four! Uh, come back after lunch and we’ll talk about it.”
We snuggled into him. He is so much fun, still a little boy at heart. I love these arms. These are the arms I am going to die in.
Momma Donnie was always such fun to be around. Even without telempathy we could always tease Daddy unmercifully, always in synch, never breaking stride.
I’ve known all my life that Momma Dee Dee is my birth mother. But I don’t believe that I ever heard the subject discussed in our household in fifty years. Both Donnie and Dee Dee were our mothers, regardless of who we popped out of. That’s the way it always was. We had two mothers.
And now we have one. Daddy is a stoic guy. He’s always shown us his happy side, but never shows us the pain. I know it’s a H. sapien guy thing. It’s like they aren’t allowed to admit that they are unhappy.
So Daddy walks around the house as if things hadn’t changed. He smiles occasionally and makes some jokes around Momma Dee Dee. I know he is trying to cheer her up.
Sometimes I think he forgets that all of us can feel his pain. The whole damn family is empaths, even Dee Dee. No matter what is showing on his face, we can always feel what’s in his heart.
Dee Dee is more demonstrative. She has always been the calmest person in our family, the most content. But this has been hard on her. The D-Generation twins were all pretty much codependent. They really needed each other.
Because their empathic capabilities were really in the embryonic stage, they needed to be in close proximity to each other for it to work, such as it did. The E-Generation is fully empathic, and no longer requires that the twins remain physically together to be able to feel each other. That’s a theory I’m working on. I think it’s a good theory. We haven’t done a lot of research about the relationship of D-Generation twins. What is the use? Before long they’ll all be gone. But I can sit on the porch of the plantation drinking a glass of Daddy’s home-made Zinfandel, and speculate about such things.
I’m taking time off from my real job to be with my parents. I’ve taken over the “Get Andrew Laid” room for a while. I’ve got all my links in place so can of course continue to negotiate with the agencies and countries that I always deal with. They don’t care where I do it from, so why should the government?
It’s always fun for me to do my work computer to computer. Even today the operating system of choice throughout the world remains the descendant of that little thing that Edie and Eddie wrote for me almost fifty years ago.
I’ve made sure through the years that with every new release, that undetectable back door into the system those kids wrote for me when they were five years old remained in place. So I can pretty much hack into any computer in the world if I want to. It certainly helps me in my negotiations to know what the true situation is on the other side.
Daddy is a very untrusting soul, especially when it comes to me. I have no idea why he should feel that way. Back when we were releasing Version 1 of the New Man operating system, Daddy made it clear to me that he knew that there was a backdoor into it.
I played innocent. I was innocent, kind of. I certainly didn’t put that backdoor into Version 1. Edie and Eddie did. Of course, they put it there for me. But I didn’t do it.
So when Daddy said to me, “So Emmy, the new operating system has a built-in Emma entrance, right?”
I batted my eyes at him (sometimes that works with him) and said, “What do you mean, Daddy?”
Daddy gave me that look; the look that means that I haven’t fooled him for a minute. “Please, Emmy. I know you think I’m an idiot, but I wasn’t born yesterday.”
I said, “I know you’re not an idiot, Daddy, no matter what Momma Donnie says.”
He said, “Oh yeah? What exactly did Momma Donnie say?”
Sometimes I can throw Daddy off the trail by changing the subject. Anyway, that was like forty or fifty years ago. I still have my backdoor into the world, and Daddy still doesn’t trust me.
That isn’t really fair. Daddy trusts me. But he knows me, too. I very rarely abuse my powers. He told us very young to use our powers only for good, and I do, mostly. But I need a shortcut into people’s computers. Of course I have my own backdoor. It’s saved our ass more than once. It’s the kind of thing Daddy calls a home field advantage.
Momma Donnie died in her sleep. She was in Daddy’s arms. He held her every night, just waiting for the end, knowing it was coming. I’m sad but there is some consolation. Donnie’s life was complete. She lived it fully. She was happy and content. Who could ask for more than that?
The Year 53
Retirement isn’t all it is cracked up to be. I’ve been retired now for three years. I figured that once I began collecting Social Security I would just bag it. So after I turned 75 I quit working at the Institute, quit putting in my two cents at New Man U., quit hanging around the offices of New Man Inc. I’m pretty sure everyone was more than happy to see me go.
I still have my computer room in the house. It’s loaded with state of the art, no moving part computing power. That’s on one small shelf. The rest of the room is filled with flowers and memorabilia. When I was single I had a wall of computing in my living room. Now I have hardware about the size of a softball with which I could run Venezuela.
Heck, now we have computing built into our clothes, with full access to any and all data available throughout the world, all virtually displayed on the pupils of our eyes. Our peripherals are operated via eye movement.
After I set the eKids onto the problem of voice recognition, that whole thing left the Stone Age and entered the twenty-first century. Now everyone has his ‘computer voice’. One can talk normally and then with just a change in inflection address his computer without breaking stride, so to speak. It has opened up a whole new code of etiquette.
We oldsters think it is impolite to speak to one’s computer while talking to a human being, regardless of species. But these kids today, they can hold a non-verbal communication with another New Man, hold a verbal conversation with a Homo sapien, while at the same time issuing computer commands and receiving input from multiple sources. I just think it’s rude.
Oh, well, no one has ever paid any attention to me anyway. I’ve always just been a convenient dick. I hold a very odd position in the history of mankind. I think I can say without fear of rebuttal, that I am the most famous fucker in history. I ask you, who tops me; fame by fucking, that is? Casanova was a piker. He had quality but no quantity. No one approaches me when it comes to quantity. And any other famous fuckers usually had something else to hang their hats on, if you know what I mean. They were Presidents, or actors, or Empresses or something. I’m just a fucker.
It is a singularly unfulfilling notion that the world will remember me for my ability to fuck. I mean, what is more useless than a retired fucker? At least as far as that goes, I’m only in semi-retirement. Dee Dee and I still occasionally indulge, if only for old time’s sake.
I’m still able to get it up if I need it. I just don’t need it very often. Dee Dee is just so fragile now that I’m afraid of hurting her. She’s still the warm, sweet, wonderful girl I fell in love with. So there is plenty of upside to our relationship.
But both of us are haunted by the girl that isn’t here; maybe very haunted. Talk about downside. I’ve found out the real problem with telempathy. Once you have it, it is almost impossible to do without it. I have no idea how New Man deals with the death of a partner. Maybe evolution has given them a coping mechanism to go with their telempathy.
But Dee Dee and I are H. sapiens not New Man. We don’t have any damn coping mechanism. We’ve been left hanging out there on the front lines, completely codependent with our partners, with no way to deal with the loss.
I’ve come to terms with things in my own mind. I’m not into suicide or anything like that. But for the last fifty years or so, there has been a single entity called Deirdre-Donnie-Andrew living in this house. Now that entity is limping along on only two-thirds of its parts. I don’t know that it’s possible for one-third of the parts to survive.
Poor Andrew is suffering so without Donnie. It has been difficult for both of us. Now I understand what my mother went through when she lost her sister as a young child.
But I wonder if the empathic link had been so fully developed in her C-Generation twins as it was in our D-Generation twins. I rather doubt it. But then Emma bequeathed the three of us full telempathy. Our link was so strong; it’s not surprising that removing one of the links tends to cause the whole bond to teeter.
Andrew and I remain. Our love is as strong as ever. He finds me irresistible. It’s always stroked my ego to know that the sexiest man on Earth is totally in love with me. Well, perhaps he isn’t considered that anymore.
But our Andrew has spread his seed across the world. He has hundreds of thousands of descendants. Because of Andrew, New Man comes in all shapes, all sizes, and all colors. New Man comes in black, yellow, brown, red, and white. So the concept of ‘race’ just doesn’t mean anything anymore.
Red necks and other racists used to maintain an orgulous attitude towards blacks, even those blacks who were their superiors in every way. Is a black Homo sapien the same race as a black New Man? Even the reddest neck in Georgia understands that they aren’t even the same species. How could they be the same race? And a superior attitude can’t survive in the face of a confrontation between H. sapien and New Man, regardless of color.
Of course the twins were white, black, or red. They were the only ‘races’ in America at the time the Institute for the Advancement of Mankind was doing its most successful breeding experiments. But Andrew actively recruited impregnators based only on IQ and certain other factors, none of which were ‘race’. So we ended with Hispanic, Indian, Arabic, Chinese, Japanese, Korean, Pakistani, and African impregnators.
Well, he did a lot of recruiting on college campuses where there are often a large percentage of foreign students and faculty. So though we started with a fear that New Man would have only a white face, we were able to work through that problem early on.
As we understood more and more about what New Man actually was, we were able to spread the conversion process (from H. sapien to New Man) throughout the world using gene therapy. So New Man is not only an American phenomenon. We had our confrontations with the government about that, something about national security. But Emma handled it and the problem went away. Another administration bites the dust.
The world needs New Man. What the nineteenth and twentieth centuries did to the Earth’s environment has wreaked havoc in the twenty-first century. I remember as a young woman hearing an American Vice-President say that he didn’t believe in global warming, but if it existed it was probably a good thing. Honestly, that particular Vice-President said quite a few very stupid things, but that took the cake.
H. sapiens had the planet in a pretty bad state by the time New Man started coming on the scene: wars of conquest to spread ‘democracy’; terrorism to spread ‘true’ religion; increasing greenhouse gases; decreasing ozone layer; diminishing resources; increasing populations; weapons of mass destruction; radicalized governments. No, the Earth was sliding downhill, and seemed to be on a slippery slope to destruction.
Andrew, and yes, Donnie and I and the other D-Generation twins, began the turnaround. I remember those many years ago, sitting in an elegant restaurant, drinking a rather nice champagne, and discussing with Andrew where we were hoping to go with the next generation. We never dreamed we could come so far, so fast. It’s something we can all be proud of. New Man is the Deus ex Machina that has come to save mankind and the Earth.
Well what more could the three of us do? When we were in our early thirties, Donnie and I had this idea about the next generation. We and the other D-Generation twins were vaguely aware of the goals of IAM. But we had no idea how to go about achieving those goals.
Then Andrew came along and within a year New Man was born. He found a way to involve the rest of the D-Generation, often through personal impregnation, but also by finding the right kind of H. sapien to do the job, if you know what I mean. Our Andrew did all of that. History will look back at this man and say ‘he was the savior of the world’, not in a religious sense, nor philosophically; but physically, politically, environmentally. In every real sense, Andrew saved the Earth.
What more could we accomplish in this lifetime? I’m tired. Andrew is still vigorous and virile, but I’m a little old lady with no vigor left. We long ago chose to reject any of the tricks that have been developed related to longevity. Earth doesn’t need those tricks. We’ve been saving them for long range space travel.
One of Andrew’s goals has always been to spread mankind so we are no longer dependent on the Earth. At least until our New Man U. scientists have worked the kinks out of the quantum drive (like knowing exactly where and when the ships are going to end up), we will be forced to use sub-light speed drives to explore our little corner of the galaxy. We have several working prototypes of differing engines. Our astronauts have been throughout the solar system, much good that does. We’ve sent unmanned probes towards neighboring stars, but it will be many years before they begin sending information.
We have begun to corral asteroids and bring them back to Earth’s proximity for easy harvesting. But except for small permanent stations on the moon and on Mars, mankind is still confined to Earth.
Well, we’ve done what we can, Andrew and Donnie and I. It’s our children who are making these advances. Andrew wanted to wait until mankind has escaped the solar system, but I just can’t wait anymore. I’m too old and too tired. And I miss Donnie so much.
I’ve been eating voraciously (as far as I’m concerned), but still my weight has been dropping. I’m down to one hundred pounds, and our doctor is worried. Let’s be frank. What tits I had (and they weren’t much) are pretty much gone now. The alphabet hasn’t been designed to measure the size of my cup. Is there a minus A? I’m eighty-eight years old. One isn’t expected to have tits at eighty-eight.
But still Andrew likes to fondle me there. I still have nipples. They are still responsive to his gentle touch.
Tonight. We prepared ourselves for bed as always. We’ve always slept sans clothing, if you know what I mean. We are warm in each other’s arms. So preparation included removing our clothing, performing our evening ablutions, and sliding into bed. We have a big four poster, big enough to be comfortable for three. Sadly there are now only two of us. Andrew’s mother spent her later years making quilts and we always use at least one.
Andrew was lying in bed when I crawled in beside him. I flowed into his arms as always and said, “Sweetheart, make love to me tonight.”
His eyes seemed to be watering. He said, “Are you sure, Dee Dee? We can just cuddle if you would like.”
But I was adamant. “I need you inside me, Andrew. I need our connection to be complete. Please, sweetie. Take me like in the old days. Make me your woman again.”
Andrew reached into our nightstand and pulled out some lubricant. I’m sorry, but I’m not the hot young thing I used to be. I still respond, still love to be filled with Andrew. But I need a little help getting ready. I’m a hot old thing.
Andrew said, “Should I use a rubber?”
I hit him on his shoulder. “Very funny. I could probably conceive, but I’ll bet you are shooting blanks, you old fart.”
He took me in his arms and we kissed. We kissed that kiss of promise and love, of affection and passion that has always signaled the beginning of our lovemaking. His hands were working their way around my body, feeling the places that perhaps aren’t as curvy as they were not so long ago.
Still I could feel my body react, my fires begin to light. His gentle touch always finds my erogenous zones. I think that wherever my sweetie touches becomes an erogenous zone. His hands are magic. His tennis player’s fingers work their spell on my body.
Our loving kiss became one of increasing passion. My hand slipped around his manhood and as always it responded. It grew in my hand until my grip couldn’t contain its whole girth.
I whispered to him, “Andrew if your dick breeds true, the Viagra people are going to go out of business.”
He laughed. It’s so good to hear him laugh again. He said, “Yes, I was blessed with that talent. Around you I can always get it up. You are my goddess. Dee Dee you are perpetually arousing. If I tell you every day of your life it will never be enough. You are so alluring, so beautiful, so sensual. I love you, baby.”
I’m an eighty-eight year old woman and he thinks I’m beautiful! Andrew always has seen me with his heart. I am beautiful. I know it because Andrew believes it. He makes me feel wonderful.
I felt the head of his cock rubbing against my pussy. I was lubricating on my own, but the additional lubrication that Andrew had used was making things even better. I felt his head insinuate itself between my lips. He barely stuck the head in, rubbed it around, then pulled out again. He was playing with me. I moaned with the pleasure of it.
“Do it! Stick it in, Andrew. Don’t make me wait. I need you, sweetie.”
Andrew smiled. “I love to hear you beg, Dee Dee. I know it’s sadistic of me. But to have the most beautiful creature on earth want me so much. It’s a real ego trip.”
I couldn’t help it. I was hot and ready and needy. “Then please. Fuck me. Oh, God Andrew, stop teasing me. Haven’t you teased me enough for one lifetime? Give it to me!”
He relented. I felt that huge member force its way into my small warm pussy. I think I screamed on the way in. It felt so good. I needed it so bad. My man was loving me.
I had enough presence of mind to say just one more time, “I love you, Andrew. You are my heart.”
Then my mind was gone. His engorged penis was pounding in me again. I felt mini-orgasms come and go, continuing to build to the Big One. Andrew was making me his own, one more time. I belong to him, only him, forever and always.
I whispered into his ear, “Come with me, sweetie. Come with me.”
And then I was no longer whispering, I was shouting. “Come with me, Andrew. Come with me, lover. I love you!”
The orgasm built and built, climax within climax. Oneness! Everything was oneness! Bright light flashed in my eyes, in my mind. Then all was darkness.
We all knew. Hundreds of thousands of people around the world felt it at the same time. I was in the ‘Get Andrew Laid’ room. I was visiting again because I felt what was happening, what was going to happen.
I let them have their privacy, such as it was. In our family privacy was never a big issue, since it was almost impossible to achieve. Daddy would shrug his shoulders and hope for the best. We kids turned out all right, I think. All of us have strong bonds with our significant others.
We learned from the best. We watched the strongest marriage on Earth. We know what it takes to make a strong marriage. It takes total commitment, complete openness, and tons and tons of communication. It takes hard work. My parents were never afraid of hard work, especially when it came to relationships.
When a person defines himself by a marriage, I guess it is impossible to see how he could survive without it, especially a marriage so strong, so loving, so emotionally intertwined. I wish my Daddy could have lived forever. He may not have been the greatest man that ever lived. He was only the greatest one that I know of.
But he couldn’t live without Momma Dee Dee. It would never occur to him. The two of them barely survived without Momma Donnie. When it was Momma Dee Dee’s time to go, Daddy just had to go with her.
I guess I’ve been crying all night. They both lived such full lives. They were so happy, so loving. With them as parents, we New Men were able to soar from the beginning.
They gave my sister a significant part of their life’s savings when she was four years old and told her to learn how to make money. They gave Edie and Eddie everything they needed to become the great scientists they were destined to be.
And me. Daddy let me surf and hack. He never came down on me, no matter how outrageously I acted. Perhaps I was a bit out of control as a young girl, but I sure had fun. If he thought I was going too far he would gently pull me back from the precipice.
And now they are gone. My heart is breaking.
Sitting at the kitchen table and picking at a bowl of cereal I pulled up the virtual monitor to display The World Today, the on-line newspage. As I suspected, he was the big story.
The story read: “The Progenitor is dead. Andrew Adkins, progenitor of New Man, founder of New Man University and New Man Incorporated died last night of apparent heart failure. Coincidentally, his wife, Deirdre Adkins died of heart failure as well. Deirdre Adkins, PhD, had been Chief Executive Officer of New Man, Inc. It is believed that Mrs. Adkins succumbed first, and the shock caused Mr. Adkins to die as well.”
Andrew Adkins, one of the giants of the twenty-first century, will continue to influence the world for decades to come through his many, many children. He has fathered Nobel Prize winners and Presidents, philosophers and scientists. Andrew Adkins may be the last great Homo sapien.”
Heart failure? It wasn’t heart failure. Daddy turned himself off. I guess you’d call it suicide, but it wasn’t really. He looked at himself as part of a whole. The part couldn’t go on without the whole now could it?
The newspage got it all wrong. I know my parents. Their hearts could never fail. They died like they lived. It was death by fucking.
Thanks to the many readers who have supported this story for so long. It is your feedback that has encouraged me to continue writing it. I intend to start Book 2 very shortly, this one relating the lives and exploits of the eKids.
Comments and criticism is always welcome. Anyone who would like a picture of Donnie and Deirdre should send me an email. Please include your email address, as it is hard to send you the pictures without it. These pictures were sent to me by a reader. But I like them.
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