James touched the small of Megan’s back and she quickly turned her head to look at him.
“What are you doing, James?” she whispered sharply.
“I… don’t know,” he replied. he slowly took his hand off of her back.
“Thank you,” she said, and we resumed watching Ron and Sheila rock that mattress in the red light.
“Oh, yes, yes, yes!” Sheila got louder and louder then threw her head back and her lower body started to spasm and jerk amidst the thrusting and the riding. Ron held her hips tightly and continued thrusting during Sheila’s orgasm.
“Harder! Harder! Right there! Yes!” Sheila yelled. Their groans and Ron’s grunts echoed as well. As Sheila’s orgasm passed the peak she collapsed onto Ron’s body and he held her gently to his body and thrust into her slowly, letting her orgasm come to its gradual end as he slid slowly in and out of her. They kissed and he let his hands slowly roam her naked body.
Megan and James exchanged glances, both of them apparently more self-conscious with the display of tender affection than lustful sex-probably because the affection made this look more like us intruding on a private scene. The notion served to make James even more aroused and only increased the urge to touch Megan again. It may have been his imagination, but it seemed like Megan’s body got a little closer to his.
Ron and Sheila rolled over so that Ron was on top of her, thrust slowly in and out of her as they kissed more. Sheila caressed his face and shoulders and Ron’s thrusting got harder and harder even though his speed never increased. Soon he grunted so she broke their kiss as he got upright over her and she reached down, stroking his stiff cock with both of her hands as he came all over her chest, abs and waist. Sheila moaned in delight of his orgasm, and Ron barely contained his pleasured yell.
As if this was their cue, Megan and James quietly stepped away and headed towards the door at the end of the long hall in silence. When they were outside they looked at each other again. The brightness of the cryostasis room was surprising at first.
“I’ll fix the temperature later, give them a moment,” he said.
“Very well,” Megan said. “I have a question for you.”
“Yes?” he asked.
“Why did you touch me?” she asked. Her face seemed mostly neutral, though the very faintest trace of a grin could be seen.
“I… felt compelled to,” he replied.
“The only way you can touch me is in a SCP,” she said.
“Ooh,” he said. “A Simulated Combat Program, how romantic. Is that a challenge, Megan?”
“It was not intended to be,” she said. “But I’m not opposed to it. Tonight, then?”
“It’s a date,” he said, grinning.
“It most certainly isn’t,” she said, though her smile was more obvious now.
He watched her wonderful body walk away and leave. He was so aroused that he felt like running to her and engulfing her in a romantic embrace. Shaking his head he tried to clear away the fantasy thoughts and headed off in the opposite direction.
That night James was eager to sit in his room at the simulation chair and attach the headset to his temples. He sat back, eager to get started. He sighed nervously and activated the computer. His vision dimmed to complete blackness as his mind opened to the computer.
The lobby’s wall by the sign in monitors had a large DIGITAL AGE logo on it, they design and engineer our training programs. The digital lobby was mostly empty; he hoped that was because there weren’t many logged on tonight not that a lot of programs were taken. James looked down at the clothes that he chose to log in with. His black clothes were tight like a scuba suit, though the fit was customary for combat training. He’d earned the black edition by doing a lot of stealth training.
“Hello James,” he heard Megan say behind him. “Nice to see you could make it.” He turned to look at her and she looked stunning. Her hair was back in a ponytail but was curled and had black stripes in it. Her clingy red uniform showed of her body even more than her work suit. Her breasts looked bigger, her hips fuller, her legs even longer.
“Hi Megan,” he replied. “You look radiant tonight.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I think black suits you. It makes you look… taller.”
“Taller?” he hadn’t expected that reaction. The word he was going for was ‘dashing.’
“Yes,” she said. “It makes me think you may be my height.”
“Aren’t I?” he asked.
“You are nearly two centimeters shorter than me,” she said.