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o The Bookshelf Directories offer a very wide variety of stories. o
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Zero-G (MF, sex in space)
by Al Steiner (al_steiner@hotmail.com)
Date: 4/99
***
Here is my latest effort. For a change I thought I'd try a little sci-fi and
try to make a story about having sex in an environment without gravity
(something I sincerely hope to experience before I die). Please let me know
how I did. Send all comments to al_steiner@hotmail.com All legitimate email
will be eventually answered.
ZERO-G
By Al Steiner
I'm sure I've been MORE nervous in my life, I just couldn't recall WHEN at the
moment the countdown reached eight. I heard the ratcheting clank of the hoses
separating from the external fuel tank of the shuttle, hoses which had just
finished pumping in liquid oxygen to supply the oxidizer for the main engine
burn. The main engines themselves were ignited a moment later, shuddering our
compartment. The main engines would not actually be fired until launch of
course but the shudder was the final sign of imminent blast-off. Only one
previous shuttle had been aborted after this point. We were REALLY going up
this time.
Two previous delays had scrubbed the launch of Endeavor. One, due to
weather, had kept us from even entering the crew compartment. We'd never
even donned our bulky spacesuits. The second had occurred fifty-three
minutes before launch when a two-dollar fuse (for which the government had
probably paid more than a thousand bucks) that regulated power to the crew
escape hatch burned out, scrubbing us. This launch signified our last chance
to hit our window this month. It looked like it we were finally going to
leave the pad this time.
I braced myself in my chair as the countdown reached zero. I braced myself
even though I was as strapped in as a man could possibly be. My shoulder and
waist restraints were cinched tight enough to break a clavicle or a pelvis had
I not been adorned with the eighty-pound space suit. A space suit which, I
might add, the ill-fated Challenger crew had found pretty much useless. I had
no illusions. If something went wrong, it was my ass. I only hoped it would
be quick; so quick I wouldn't even notice it.
"Ignition." I heard in my headset. A moment later the solid rocket boosters
were ignited, the main engines were throttled up, and the shuttle leapt off of
the pad.
Vibration and incredible noise filled the crew compartment and I was pushed
back forcefully in my seat under the effects of three times the force of
normal gravity. It (the acceleration, NOT the noise) was less than I'd
endured in training in the centrifuge, I'd made it all the way to nine G's
before passing out, but it was different all the same, more intense. I knew
that this pressure on my body meant I was being blasted off of the earth and
into space. It meant that the launch had gone forward. The main engines
could be shut down at any time but solid rocket boosters are like fireworks;
hell, they ARE fireworks when you come right down to it. Once they are lit,
there is no turning them off. They would burn, pushing our little vehicle
upward, until they were out of fuel. We were committed.
I took a deep breath, inhaling the mixture of oxygen and nitrogen that came
through the breathing system. I closed my eyes, enduring the uncomfortable
sensation of acceleration, waiting for it to be over. This was the most
dangerous part of a space mission; the part most likely to produce a
catastrophic result; the orbital burn. More than a million individual parts
had to work perfectly in sync with each other. If one little widget decided
to say 'fuck it', we were toast.
I did not even have the luxury of monitoring what was going on as we
ascended. I was not a pilot; I was a payload specialist, sitting two seats
behind the mission commander. I heard his transmissions in my earpiece but I
did not have access to his telemetry. If my ass was about to be obliterated,
the last thing I would hope to hear would be 'Houston, I'm reading a failure
on....'.
I heard the report of our transitional roll to orbital inclination. I felt
the shudder of separation as the SRBs burned out and were ejected. I was
particularly nervous during this period. It was about here when the
Challenger had gone up.
This all went off without a hitch however. The main engines burned for a few
more minutes and then shut off. The acceleration ended, literally lifting a
great weight from us, and we were in zero-G. We were in orbit. My lifelong
dream had been achieved. I was safely in space, moving at nearly eighteen
thousand miles an hour.
"All right guys." Commander Buxely told us over the intercom. He'd flown in
space four times before and was therefore a veteran. "Let's get these space
suits off."
This was, as I may or may not have mentioned or implied, my first space
mission. I'd been an "astronaut" for more than two years but the highest I'd
flown before had been my flights on the so-called "vomit-comet", a KC-135 that
had been converted for zero gravity training. It was a pathetic simulation of
what zero-G was REALLY like I was quickly discovering.
I have a doctorate in orbital dynamics. Though I am assigned to NASA, my
actual job it to oversee the development and deployment of infrared detecting
geosynchronus spy satellites. Endeavor was tasked, among other things, to
launch such a satellite who's purpose was to hover above the Indian Ocean,
replacing an outdated satellite that had been there since the late 1980s. The
satellite in question could detect the launch of something so small as a SCUD
missile by it's infrared plume anywhere in the Eastern Hemisphere of Earth.
I'd worked out the proper positioning for the thing in our limited slot of geo
orbits and was tasked to oversee its deployment. I'd worked the last twelve
years of my life for the moment I was finally shot into orbit around the Earth
via highly explosive elements.
I was but one member of a crew of seven on the Endeavor that mission. The spy
satellite launch was but one of our tasks. We were also studying solar flares
from the sun, the development of chicken embryos in zero gravity, and, as
always, the effects of zero-G on the human body.
Of the seven of us astronauts, only two of us had never been in space before.
They were Jackie Yee and myself. Jackie was not really an astronaut. She
was not employed by NASA but was a research specialist; a biologist at
Harvard. She'd received a few months of NASA training prepatory to being
launched with her experiment; which she'd worked six years upon. Jackie was
in charge of the chicken embryos. She was THE authority, not just on
chickens, but on any kind of poultry you could possibly imagine. She had a
Ph.D. in poultry. The chicken doctor, we called her, good naturedly of
course; and she'd always taken this well. Eventually her nickname
(astronauts LOVE giving each other nicknames) evolved into "CD". By the time
of launch we were all calling her this. From her I'd learned more about the
life cycle, breeding cycle, and death cycle of chickens than I'd ever hoped
to know. She was an accepted, though minor member of our crew. She'd
trained with us in the simulators, had gone up with us in the vomit comet,
had participated in the pre-launch flight in the F-16s, even taking the stick
for a short time in the back seat of the specially modified trainer that
Commander Buxely flew. She'd proved to us all that she had a set of balls.
She was my age, thirty-one, and in exquisite shape; a NASA requirement. She
was an attractive woman of oriental descent, her family having come to
America in the post World War II era. She was childless and twice divorced.
As the two "virgin" members of the crew, Jackie and I had bonded during
training. On the rare occasions when we, the crew, had time to go out to a
bar for a few drinks, Jackie and I used to sit together and talk, sharing our
experiences in life. I learned that she had incredible trouble maintaining
relationships with men. The problem was that she was almost eerily
intelligent; her IQ was nicely above what was considered to be genius.
Apparently most men were intimidated by that simple fact. Men don't like
women who are smarter than they are.
My own IQ, while up there on the scale, was nowhere near hers. But she never
intimidated me. On the contrary, I found conversation with her stimulating
and thought provoking (when she wasn't talking about chickens, that is). Her
points of view on every issue from the Bill Clinton scandal to the Crisis in
Kosovo were well thought-out and well-spoken, full of insight. As the weeks
prior to launch went by I found myself infatuated with her.
Like her I was divorced and childless, though I could only claim a single
previous spouse. My wife had been a pediatrician that I'd met in graduate
school. An attractive woman and a wonderful wife that had simply been unable
to adapt to the amount of time I had to spend away from her at Jet Propulsion
Laboratory, my previous employer before joining NASA. By the time I'd been
picked up as a future astronaut our marriage had been teetering on the brink.
The additional time away from home that NASA required had been the final push.
My story is not unusual in the ranks of astronauts.
As our training progressed CD and I fell in love with each other. One night,
after a particularly drunken barbecue at Coco Beach, we rented a cheap motel
and spent the night screwing our brains out. I licked and sucked every inch
of her beautiful, shapely body. She licked and sucked every inch of mine in
return. We had sex in a variety of positions until nearly two in the
morning, at which time we finally fell into an exhausted slumber. The next
morning we had a long talk and proclaimed our deep feelings for each other.
But we also knew, though we both wished to continue this relationship, that
propriety would have to be our God.
NASA, you see, is as prudish and puritan as those seventeenth century New
Englanders that used to burn witches at the stake. If they'd heard so much
as a rumor that CD and I were sleeping together, or even CONSIDERING such a
thing, one or both of us would have been pulled from the mission. Can't have
people that are ATTRACTED to each other in a shuttle together, can we?
Though we loved each other we had both worked for many years to be put on
this mission. We had no intention of fucking that up. Our relationship would
be kept secret, at least until AFTER we'd touched down at Cape Kennedy.
We are certainly not the first pair of lovers that have had to work in close
proximity to each other while keeping their affections secret. Those that
have been through similar situations can, I'm sure, commiserate with me. I
can't begin to tell you how frustrating it was to be next to her each day, to
have brief, seemingly accidental contact, but to not be able to be alone with
her in the way I wished. We did manage SOME encounters together during the
final phases of training, but they were few and far between and they were
NEVER enough.
To make things worse, CD had a nasty little teasing streak within her. She
used to delight in whispering things in my ear during training exercises when
we happened to end up next to each other. We would be about to climb into the
simulator and she would whisk by me and softly comment, "my pussy is SO wet
from looking at the bulge in your shorts that I'm gonna have to rub myself off
in my seat". Or as we were enduring a lecture on emergency procedures (the
kiss your ass goodbye lectures) she would pass me a note that would read: "I
had to fuck a cucumber last night because you weren't there." The note would
have been rubbed across her vagina and would be emitting her sexy musk. These
teasing gestures were almost more than I could take at times. I remember
having to fight down hard-ons on several occasions so that my fellow
astronauts, as well as my bosses, and on one occasion, the press, would not
have to wonder why there was such a tent in my shorts.
But, thanks to our painful discretion, and despite CD's teasing, we managed to
keep our relationship a firm secret from everyone but ourselves. Neither one
of us were scrubbed from the mission.
As we donned our space suits prior to boarding the shuttle before what would
turn out to be our launch, CD whisked by me once again. She paused for a
brief moment, so brief that I doubt anyone even noticed. In my ear she
whispered, "Somehow, some way, I'm going to figure out a way to get your cock
in me up there." She blew a quick breath of air in my ear and then moved on.
She paused and gave me a saucy smile over her shoulder before turning her
attention to the task of suiting up.
I wonder if I am the only astronaut who has ever ridden the boarding elevator
with a throbbing hard-on.
Once in orbit it took us nearly an hour and a half to strip out of the
spacesuits and stow them in their storage compartments. Beneath them we all
wore the standard work outfits, I'm sure you've seen them on TV before, blue
shorts, white NASA T-shirts, and deck shoes. What you don't see in those
television shots is what is UNDER the clothing. A thin vest with sticky
electrodes all over it monitors our heartrate, respiratory rate, blood oxygen
saturation level, and skin temperature. This information is sent to the
shuttle's communication computer and downlinked, via a series of
communication satellites, to Houston where a doctor watches over it (Yes, the
government pays a doctor an obscene amount of money to do this). Why they
feel the need to do this, I've never been given a satisfactory answer but I
knew it would make CD's evil plan somewhat difficult to accomplish without
detection. I could just picture the flight doctor down in Houston wondering
why two of the crew members, a male and a female, suddenly developed
heartrates in the mid one hundreds, respiratory rates in the upper thirties,
and a sharp rise in skin temperature. It would certainly be odd enough for
him to question it over the communication system. The only time we are not
transmitting this information is when we are bathing; which is done with very
damp sponges. Though the idea of screwing CD during the mission was exciting
I couldn't conceive of both of us being able to shut off our transmitters at
the same time. Oh well, she was the genius. Maybe she would think of
something. In the meantime, there was weightlessness to enjoy.
Zero gravity. I can not begin to describe what it feels like to be able to
float through the air at will, propelling yourself along with gentle pushes
against the walls or the various handholds placed throughout the two decks of
the crew compartment. Or how strange it is to pull yourself DOWN the ladder
between decks, going through the opening headfirst, spinning to horizontal,
and then kicking off the ladder to push yourself across the room. The first
time I did this I did not push hard enough and stopped halfway across the
room, leaving myself stranded in the air with nothing to grab hold of to
propel myself. Contrary to popular belief, you do not simply keep going
across a room inside of a spacecraft. There is air pressure in there; 15 psi
to be exact, and it exerts enough friction to stop your forward momentum.
The second time I tried this I kicked too hard, nearly breaking my wrists
when I reached the other side. CD had similar problems learning the fine
points of moving about the work areas; she racked her head painfully on the
ceiling between decks when she pushed upward at the wrong angle. This amused
the other astronauts to no end as we went about the initial tasks of setting
the shuttle up for work.
The cargo doors were opened (they have to stay open during the entire flight;
they are what radiates off our waste heat), the shuttle was rolled over so
it's belly was facing the earth, and we began to unpack what needed to be
unpacked. CD set up her chicken embryos. I went about the task of unpacking
our consumables from lift-off storage to flight storage. The other
crewmembers had other tasks to do. Though the crew quarters is a small
environment for seven people it was made larger by the absence of gravity.
People could pass each other in up and down orientation instead of being
limited to side by side. I did notice the curious fact that we all oriented
ourselves with our feet towards the floor whenever we were stationary. There
is something decidedly unnerving about hovering in what your eyes tell you is
an upside-down position.
As we embarked upon our first workday CD's teasing manner did not alleviate
in the least. In fact, she became more daring, more brazen. My first
indication of this came before lunch. We found ourselves momentarily alone
down in the lower deck. She was still working on her embryos, which were set
up near the rear of the larger deck. I was working on a fouled CO2 scrubber
that the computer had said was malfunctioning. The only other crewmember
down there with us was Shellie Angst, the pilot. Her domain was the flight
deck of course but she was locked inside the bathroom, dealing with a case of
irritable bowels (another common consequence of space flight). The rest of
the crew was working on the flight deck at various tasks.
When she called my name, sex and teasing were the last things on my mind. I
was concentrating all of my energies upon keeping my grip on the handhold
while trying to keep the little screws that held the back of the scrubber
motor from floating away from me as they came loose.
"Yeah?" I asked, looking at her. Her face was neutral.
"Can you help me with something for a sec?" She asked.
"Yeah, hang on." I said, removing another screw and then stuffing it in my
pocket.
I was amused to find myself looking for a place to set down the cordless
screwdriver I was using. You don't HAVE to set anything down in zero-g.
When I realized this I simply removed my hand from it and it hovered in the
air near the scrubber. I had no reason to believe it would not still be
there when I got back. I pushed off the wall and drifted over to her,
stopping myself upon arrival by hooking my foot around a rung of the deck
ladder.
"What do you need?" I asked.
She gave me her teasing smile, holding up her right index finger. "I was just
putting this in my wet pussy." She whispered to me, sliding it between my
lips. She was not joking; I could taste her juices on the salty flesh of her
digit. My dick immediately sprang upward.
"CD, Jesus!" I said as she withdrew the finger. I cast a nervous glance at
the bathroom door where I could clearly hear Shellie grunting and farting
over the vacuum noise of the "solid waste relief tube".
"I just thought you'd like to know." She said, reaching out and giving my dick
a quick squeeze through my shorts, making my hard-on even stiffer. She looked
in my eyes. "Somehow," She told me again, "I'm going to have you up here.
Count on it."
I couldn't help but smile back. If there were a way to do it, she would
figure it out.
Over the next two days a routine was established. We worked more than twelve
hours a day at various tasks that were both related to our specialty and in
the category of general housekeeping. My specialty was the satellite, which
would not be deployed until the third day of the mission. I checked and
rechecked its programming, fuel status, engine status, and a thousand other
things about its future operation. My housekeeping duties included changing
the CO2 scrubbers when they became saturated and monitoring the consumables.
CD worked on her chicken embryos most of the time, monitoring things about
their development that I could not even fathom and transcribing the results.
She seemed pleased about whatever she was finding. Her housekeeping tasks
involved making sure the solid and liquid waste dumps were made at the proper
times. We were rarely alone together for any length of time, but on those
few occasions that we were, she never failed to steal a quick kiss, or grab
my cock for an instant, or put my hand on one of her breasts, allowing me to
squeeze it, or, on one memorable occasion, thrusting my hand down the front
of her shorts, allowing me to finger her wet pussy for about fifteen seconds
before someone started coming down the ladder.
After that encounter I'd excused myself to the bathroom, closing the door
behind me. Floating there eight inches above the floor I picked up the liquid
relief tube and clipped on my personal urine attachment. I pushed the
initiation button and the vacuum came to life. I pushed down my shorts and
hauled out my stiff, rigid, much in need of relief dick. I began stroking it,
the image of CD's wet pussy against my finger in the front of my mind. I
imagined sinking the object I now held in my hand (my cock, not the relief
tube) into that wetness. Within thirty seconds I was shooting a pent-up load
into the mouth of the tube where it was sucked down into the bowels of the
shuttle, eventually to be discharged into space by CD during her routine
housekeeping duties.
Feeling much better, more relaxed than I'd been the entire mission in fact, I
shut off the vacuum, stowed my attachment back in it's proper place, and
pulled my shorts back up. I cleaned my hands and opened the door, floating
back out into the crew quarters. CD was giving me a knowing smile as I
emerged. Since no one was paying me any attention at the moment, I drifted
over her way.
"I just jacked off in the bathroom while I was thinking about fucking you." I
whispered at her as I drifted by.
Her face blushed red, showing me that she could dish it out but she couldn't
take it.
From above me my last name was barked out, making me jump a little. It was
Buxely's voice.
"Yeah Bux?" I yelled upwards.
"Come on up here a minute." He told me.
CD and I exchanged a quick, nervous glance. "On my way." I said, pushing
towards the ladder and maneuvering my way upward.
The flight deck was my favorite place to be during the mission. It was the
nerve center of the shuttle, the place where all of my instruments were, and
it offered an absolutely inspiring view of the earth nearly three hundred
miles below us. As I emerged I took a quick glance outside, despite my
slight nervousness about what Bux was calling me upstairs about, I couldn't
help it. We were on the daylight side of the planet I saw, and I was able to
identify the West Coast of South America far below.
I dragged my eyes away from the view when Bux waved me over to an unoccupied
corner near the left side. Shellie was in the pilot's seat, monitoring
shuttle systems. The communications officer was sitting next to her, looking
at me with a knowing grin that I didn't care for in the least. The
hydraulics specialist, Dan Freeling, was lost in a world of his own, working
at a screen that showed the status of his beloved hydraulic robotic arm; the
arm which would lift my satellite into orbit. I pushed myself over to Bux,
stopping neatly by putting my foot against the wall when I got there.
He stared at me for a moment, his face expressionless. "You okay?" He asked
me.
I blinked. "Sure." I told him carefully. "Why wouldn't I be?"
He chewed on his lip for a second and then said, "Houston just reported that
you had a momentary surge in your heartrate, temperature, and respiration.
They said it shot up alarmingly for a minute." He paused. "I notice you were
in the head when this happened."
Holy shit! Did they know I'd just jacked off in there? I knew that actually
performing coitus would be detected but it had not occurred to me for an
instant that simply whipping off would push up my baseline values. I thought
quickly. "I had uh... some stomach cramps in there." I told Bux. "They
passed."
"Uh huh." He replied, obviously not believing me. "Well let me give you a
little advice virgin." He said. "We all get 'uh stomach cramps' up here from
time to time if you know what I mean. I would suggest that you time your
stomach cramps a little more carefully if you don't want the entire control
center knowing about them. Personally, when I get 'uh stomach cramps', I get
them just before my workout period; after I've reported impending exercise to
Houston but before I've actually begun to do it." He grinned. "That way they
don't think anything unusual about the sudden rise in values that the 'uh
stomach cramps' produce. You get me?"
"Yeah Bux." I said, perhaps as embarrassed as I'd ever been in my life. "I get
you."
"Good." He said. "Keep it in mind. Don't worry about what we told Houston.
Jack already covered for you."
As I drifted back over to my workstation Jack, the communications officer,
yelled to me, "Hope you feel better."
Despite the embarrassment that this episode produced, it also gave me food for
thought. I couldn't wait to share these thoughts with CD.
The third day of the mission was my day. Our window approached and I spent
more than six hours on final preparations for the satellite launch. Dan and
I worked closely together, as we had in countless simulations back at
Kennedy. Down on earth we'd prepared for every conceivable fuck-up in the
deployment. We'd trained on how to deal with things that ranged from the
barely likely to the pretty much impossible. No matter what happened during
the launch, Dan and I knew what to do about it. And, as is normally the case
in life, we found that when trouble showed its head, it was something that
hadn't been thought of.
The satellite was released from the robotic arm where it drifted above and to
the rear of the shuttle. It was tracking well and ready to have its orbital
burn initiated a burn that would push it up another twenty-two thousand miles.
The window in which to initiate this burn was very brief, a matter of seconds.
The plan was to pull in the robotic arm and then thrust away from the
satellite, keeping us well clear of it when it's engines ignited. However,
when Dan tried to pull in the arm, alarm buzzers began sounding around us.
"What's going on?" Bux, who had been hovering over us, demanded.
"Fuck me." Dan swore. "A hydraulic line has been severed. The arm won't
move."
My mind immediately went through worst case scenarios and came to a favorable
conclusion. The hydraulic arm could be fixed by a space-walk. We had the
parts on board and it would only take a few hours. If it could not, the
entire assembly could be detached and kicked loose into space, allowing us to
close the cargo doors and still make a safe landing. This was nothing that
was going to kill us. My satellite had already been released so it was safe.
If this had happened prior to that, we would have had to fix the arm and
then wait for the next window three days later. But it hadn't. My part of
the mission wasn't even in jeopardy. I imagined that Dan would have to
answer some serious questions when we landed however. As far as problems
went, this one was nothing.
"How long until the satellite burn?" Bux asked me.
"Twenty-four minutes." I told him.
He sighed. "Okay," He said, turning to Shellie, the pilot. "Thrust forward
with the arm still deployed and get us clear. Once the satellite is safely
in position we'll start working on the damn arm." He turned to the
communications officer. "Jack, get me Houston so I can report this shit."
My satellite burned flawlessly. It streaked away from us and out of sight,
the computers positioning it exactly where it was supposed to be. I
monitored everything on my screen, ready to take over if needed, but it
wasn't needed. Less than two hours later our great country had a new spy in
the sky, it's solar panels open and operating, telemetry streaming towards
the earth.
Once that was done we began gathering the materials needed to repair the
robotic arm. They were all stored below, in the crew quarters, and both CD
and myself helped dig them up and transport them to the deployment area.
When everything needed was positioned Dan began donning his space suit in
preparation for his extra-vehicular activity. I helped him put the suit on.
When he was ready he entered the air lock and ten minutes later was out in
space, beginning to work.
By a pleasant coincidence, CD and I were the only two crewmembers that were
not a needed part of this operation. She was the first to grow bored. She
asked Bux if he would mind if she went back down into the crew quarters to
work on her embryos and maybe do her work out. He absently agreed.
She gave me a quick glance and then disappeared down the ladder. I knew what
her glance meant. This was our opportunity. It could not get any better
than this. The rest of the crew would be occupied for the next two hours on
repairing the robotic arm. The only reason they would have for coming down
the ladder was to use the bathroom.
For the next ten minutes my mind whirred. Part of me was afraid of attempting
what CD had in mind. If we got caught doing it, I would most certainly never
fly in space again and would possibly be dismissed from NASA. I also was
worried about what Bux would say or think if I tried to excuse myself. He was
very sharp and I could not dismiss the possibility that he would suspect WHY I
wanted to go downstairs.
Ironically it was Bux that solved the problem for me.
"Have you done your workout today?" He asked me as I watched Dan removing the
housing for the robotic arm and tried to keep my dick from stiffening at the
thought of fucking CD in space.
"No." I told him. "I've been working on the satellite all day."
He nodded. "You're not really needed up here." He said. "Unless you really
want to watch Dan dissect this thing, why don't get it taken care of? Houston
really rides my ass if everyone doesn't do their workout each day."
I nodded at him wisely, unable to believe my good fortune. The daily workouts
on the rubber-band machines in the front of the crew cabin were a NASA
requirement. Their purpose was to maintain muscle tone in the arms, legs, and
cardiovascular system; all of which had a much lighter load in zero-g and
tended to atrophy if they weren't exercised. Bux had just ordered me to go
increase my heart rate.
"Sounds like a good idea boss." I told him, pushing myself away from the wall
and upward. I flipped myself upside down and then pushed off the ceiling with
my feet, heading for the hatch. Bux, who had grabbed my left foot as it
streaked away from him, jerked me to an abrupt halt in mid-air.
I looked at him enquiringly, my body stretched downward, my hands pointed
towards the hatch, as he held fast to my shoe.
"Why don't you shut the hatch while you're down there?" He said, staring at
me. "It makes it harder for us to get down to use the head but at least we
won't be disturbed up here by the noise of your, uh, workout."
We continued to stare at each other and I felt my face flushing. He KNEW
what I was going to do! And he was helping me! The man who, though I
respected him immensely, I'd always thought of as having an ice cube stuck up
his ass he was so calm, cool, and efficient. He was the very definition of
'by the book'. Was I really reading his signals correctly?
"Sure Bux." I finally managed to say. "Sounds like a good idea."
He nodded, a faint grin crossing his features. "I'll tell Jack to report that
the two of you are going to be working out. Wouldn't want them to get alarmed
at a sudden rise in values now, would we? Enjoy your workout." He said. "But
don't take too long. Someone's bound to have to go down and take a crap or a
leak before long." With that he pushed me towards the hatch again.
Without another look back I entered the hatch and pulled myself down. As I
emerged in the lower deck I could see CD working on her chickens. She smiled
as she saw me. Her smile turned to confusion as I flipped myself over and
pulled the metal hatch shut, latching it.
"What are you doing?" She asked, alarmed. "You can't shut the hatch! What
will..."
"I've been ordered to shut the hatch." I interrupted her, grinning, my dick
already stiffening.
"What?"
"Bux ordered me to come down here and work out." I explained. "He also ordered
me to shut the hatch so we wouldn't disturb anyone at work up top."
Her mouth dropped open. Her face took on one of those expressions that made
you wish you had a camera. "Does he KNOW what we're...."
I nodded. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure he does."
"And the rest of the crew?"
I shrugged. "What do you think?"
"Wow." She said, dazed. "This is really embarrassing."
"Too embarrassing?" I asked.
She thought about it for a moment. "No." She said, grinning. "Not at all."
She held out her arms.
I kicked off the ladder, propelling myself to her. She caught me in her arms
and I felt her warm body pushing against mine. As our chests came together I
felt the weight of her small breasts against me but I also felt the hard
points of her medical vest too. I pulled away, knowing that if our vests
were rubbing together it would screw up the telemetry. We would have to do
this without chest to chest contact. Fortunately we did not have gravity to
get in the way.
I twisted my body perpendicular to hers, so that I was horizontal, floating in
the air and she was vertical, also about eight inches off the ground. We
stared at each other for a moment. Her face looked different in orbit, more
swollen and puffy since gravity was not pulling the fluid out of it down
towards her feet. It added a twist of sensuality to our kiss when we finally
brought our mouths together.
Our tongues came together, probing and swirling. I tasted toothpaste in her
mouth, as if she'd just brushed her teeth. CD is a great kisser. I felt her
mouth sliding over mine, shifting position slightly as she allowed her legs
and body to drift upward, turning on the axis of her head until she too was
floating horizontally in the air, our bodies now forming an L, joined at the
face. When we broke our kiss a few drops of our intermingled saliva went
drifting through the air. I caught it before it could get too far and wiped
it on my shirt.
CD giggled. "This is going to be interesting." She said.
We kissed a moment more, taking the time to lick and suck each other's necks
and ears. By now my shorts were bulging outward with my hard-on. She ran her
hand down my flank, careful to avoid touching any of my electrodes, passing
over my hips and finally coming to my thigh. Her smooth hand glided over the
bare flesh of my leg, making it tingle, and then she brushed the back of her
hand over the protrusion of my cock.
"Mmmm." I sighed, pushing upwards with my pelvis, trying to increase the
contact.
She pulled her hand away and then twisted her body so that her feet were
pointing straight up towards the ceiling and her head was facing downward.
She kissed me once more in this upside down manner, just touching my tongue
with hers, and then, using my armpits for leverage and keeping herself upside
down, pulled herself along the length of my body until her face was floating
over my crotch. Her mouth darted down and began licking my inner thighs,
just under the leg of my shorts, leaving wet trails. She sucked the
sensitive skin there, even nipping at it gently with her teeth from time to
time.
My breathing quickened as I enjoyed the sensation. My hands and arms floated
out to the side of me. She grabbed the waistband of my shorts and underwear
and began to tug on them. We both laughed when I instinctively raised my
hips up to help her remove them; there was of course, nothing below my ass to
impede this process. As she pulled the shorts down my legs the principals of
Newtonian law forced her legs to spin down to my head. I caught her by the
upper thighs, caressing and feeling the smooth, feminine flesh there while I
peered between them, spying just a hint of the white panties she wore through
her legband.
I began to tug on her shorts and underwear as well, sliding them down her
legs. Trouble struck when she tried to pull my shorts off over my deck
shoes. They bound up and she had to tug sharply to pull them free. When they
finally came loose her upper body was slingshot away from me, towards the
ceiling. Since I was holding onto her legs, or her shorts anyway, my body
began to spin with her. My head cracked painfully into the floor, stopping
my spin instantly and making me let go of CD to grab my head. This launched
her across the room at an alarming velocity, spinning slowly backward, her
shorts halfway down her legs. She hit the ceiling with her bare ass, bounced
off it towards the fore wall of the crew quarters, and crashed into Jack's
bunk, finally coming to a stop. My shorts and underwear had separated from
each other in the incident and were floating near the ceiling.
"Are you okay?" I asked her, feeling my head throb, feeling my cock deflate a
little. I rolled myself over and pushed off the floor with my hands, heading
slowly towards her.
"I think so." She replied, pushing herself back out into the room. "That is
certainly a hazard of sex that could never happen back on the ground though."
I laughed. "You got that right."
We drifted back together, both of us vertical once more. She looked down at
my dick, which was now at about half-staff.
"You're not gonna let one little incident put you off now, are you?" She
asked.
"I guess I just lost interest for a moment." I told her.
"Well let me see if I can re-interest you." She said. She finished the job
of pulling her shorts and panties off, tossing them into her bunk with just
enough force to make them stay there. Her bush, like on many Orientals, was
sparse and as black as night. Her pussy lips were pouting outward and her
small clit was erect. Moisture glistened off of her. My dick jumped and
twitched at the sight, refilling with blood.
"I think I'm interested again." I told her, licking my lips.
She reached out and put her hand on my cock, kneading it and stroking,
bringing it back to full and complete life once more. If I had not stroked
off in the head the day before I probably would have came just from that.
"Let's see what we can do here," She told me. "Just relax and don't fight me."
"Okay." I agreed, not having the slightest idea what she was talking about but
willing to agree to damn near anything.
She pulled on my cock firmly. Now this is something, obviously, that you
would not want to do on earth, but in space, she was able to swing my entire
body back to horizontal so that I was floating three feet above the ground
once more, my back towards the floor. She let go of my cock and placed her
hands on my hips, sliding them around to feel my asscheeks. While she was
doing this she swung her legs back towards the ceiling so that she was, in
effect, standing on her hands on my hips with her mouth just inches above the
head of my cock. I could feel her breath tickling it and it strained upward.
She stuck out her tongue and ran it gently around the head of my dick, using
the most teasing pressure imaginable. I grunted in frustration, trying to
thrust upwards into her mouth but I quickly learned that thrusting up only
pushed us apart.
"Just relax." She whispered, tonguing me quickly once more. She stabbed at my
pisshole with the tip of her tongue.
"Please?" I pleaded, trembling with desire.
The please did the trick. She pulled sharply on my ass drawing the entire
length of me into her wet, sucking mouth. She used her hands to push and
pull me in and out while she swirled her tongue and applied gentle suction.
She did this for a minute or so and then she let go of my hips while keeping
her mouth firmly attached to my dick. She crossed her arms over my abdomen
and then spun herself around quickly, as if she were a drill bit. She kept
spinning, keeping her mouth on my cock, using her hands for momentum, making
her mouth revolve around me. I'd never felt ANYTHING like it before; I'd
never even imagined anything like it before.
"Ooohh." Was all I could say to this new dimension of blowjob.
She stopped her revolutions after a moment, just when I thought I was going
to shoot a load into her spinning mouth, and pulled herself off of me. Again
a thick stream of saliva spun off into the air, drifting away from us. This
time I let it go.
"Was that interesting?" She grinned at me, her face still upside down.
"Very." I agreed. "Let's do some more interesting things. Stay where you
are."
"What are you going to do?" She asked playfully.
"You'll see." I said.
I spun so that my feet were on the floor. I gave a soft kick upward, rising
until my pelvis and my wet cock were near the bottom of her ass. I grabbed
her ankles and pushed her legs apart so that I was looking down on her wet
pussy. I twisted into a horizontal position and put my crotch between her
legs. A quick yank on her thighs and the head of my dick was sliding
deliciously through the warm lips of her pussy.
I did a little teasing of my own, sliding my cock up and down, probing a half
inch in and then withdrawing, rubbing over her clit. I kept the teasing to a
minimum however since I knew our time was limited. The first time she
demanded that I put it in, I did. I thrust forward and buried my cock into
her body, sliding into her tight slit with a squish.
"Ohhhh." We both said together as I began to push and pull her thighs,
raising and lowering her on me. After a minute or so of this she reached to
the floor with her hands and gave a push, imparting our bodies with a slow
spin. As I pounded in and out her, and as beads of sweat formed on my face
and head, I saw the ceiling and floor revolving in my field of view, framed
by the sight of my cock sliding into her slit. She gripped and squeezed me
as I fucked her, juices broke free and went spinning off. I wondered if I
was grinning as widely as she was. I wondered if regular sex would ever hold
any excitement again after this.
"Let's try doggy style." She panted.
"Okay." I panted back, letting go of her legs and allowing her to slip free,
releasing gobs of her juices into the air as I did so.
We stopped our spins on the nearest wall and positioned ourselves about four
feet off the ground. She bent her body into the doggy style position,
showing me her firm ass and displaying her gaping cunt and hairless, puckered
asshole to my view. Floating vertically, head towards the ceiling, I grabbed
her hips and pulled her to me, sinking easily into slit once again. As I
began thrusting once more she reached out to the nearest wall and spun us
sideways this time, giggling as she did it.
It was dizzying, watching the bunks at the other end of the room spin
clockwise around while fucking. I began to thrust harder, feeling the
beginning phases of orgasm creeping up on me. I reached over her hip with
one hand and found her clit, which I began rubbing.
"Yess." She cried. "Ohh yess. Rub it harder, fuck me harder, spin us
faster!"
I reached out with my free hand and pushed hard on the wall, importing our
spin with a suicidal velocity. The bunks became a blur of color as my
thrusts began to slam faster into her, making my balls slap back and forth.
A high pitched whine began to emit from CD's mouth, a whine that I knew meant
she was about to come. Her hips began banging erratically back at me, her
hand slapped down on the hand I had on her clit, forcing me to push harder
upon it. Our spin was rapidly slowing down but we didn't care anymore. Her
whine increased in pitch and her vaginal muscles clamped and released me,
clamped and released me.
When she came her whine became inaudible but her hips came close to injuring
me. I was not far behind. I felt the sensation running up my nerves from my
crotch. I felt my thrusts become involuntary.
"Do it!" CD barked. "Oh God, do it!"
I came hard, shooting gobs and gobs of sperm into her clutching pussy. Some
of it leaked out and joined the rapidly growing constellation of liquid drops
in the air around us. When my spasms finally stopped we just sat still for a
moment, still spinning softly.
When our motion finally came to a halt I carefully pulled myself out of her.
A few more drops of our combined juices escaped during this process. She
twisted her body around and gave me a wet kiss, sucking on my tongue. When
we broke the kiss we stared into each other's eyes.
"I really hope they have hotels in orbit soon." She told me. "I have simply
GOT to do this again before I die."
"I can think of at least sixty more positions and movements that I'd like to
experiment with." I agreed.
"Maybe we can get a NASA grant if we write this up." She said.
We laughed at that. If NASA ever found out what we'd just done, we'd be lucky
to be allowed to fly on so much as a commercial airliner again in our lives.
I looked around the room for the first time and was shocked at what I saw.
My shorts were hovering near the bathroom door, my underwear had been sucked
up against one of the CO2 scrubbers, and drifting everywhere were drops of
saliva, vaginal secretions, and semen. I also noticed the odor for the first
time; the thick, musky smell of sexual contact. It was overpowering in the
cramped room.
"We'd better get dressed and clean this place up." I said.
"If we must." She replied, still smiling.
It took us about fifteen minutes to get dressed and clean the place up. I
used a hand-held vacuum that was specifically designed to clean up spilled
liquids in a zero-g environment. I wondered if the designers had ever
imagined their device would be used to clean up floating semen and pussy
juices. I sprayed some air freshener around in the room to mask the smell
(all spacecraft carry air freshener on board, as I've mentioned before,
irritable bowels and the gas that accompanies them are common). We both even
managed to bathe and change our clothes before someone finally opened the
hatch and came down.
It was Bux and his face was expressionless as he propelled himself down the
ladder. CD and I were both working on her chicken experiment (which meant
she was explaining it to me). Bux glanced at us for a moment and then shot
himself over to the bathroom. The door closed behind him and a second later
the sound of the vacuum started up.
When he emerged a few minutes later he drifted over to us. CD and I stared
awkwardly at him.
"How was the workout?" He finally asked tonelessly.
"It was good." I answered, not knowing what else to say.
He nodded. "The good doctor down in Houston called us a few minutes ago."
"Oh?" CD replied.
"Yep." Bux affirmed. "He said that you two are to be congratulated for such
an intense workout. Apparently whatever you did, you really got your hearts
pumping."
"It WAS a good workout." CD answered, stifling a grin.
"But he did ask that you make it a little longer next time."
"Longer?" I asked, now stifling a grin of my own.
Bux nodded. "He wants to see at least thirty minutes of cardio activity each
day." He gave us a stern look. "I trust however, from now on, you two will
stick to, shall we say, conventional exercise."
"Of course." I said.
"Yes Bux." CD said.
"Good." He said. "Why don't you head up top pretty soon. The arm's going to
be finished in about an hour and we're gonna need you."
We agreed to do this and Bux kicked off the wall towards the ladder. As he
started up he turned to us one last time. "By the way," He said. "You're
probably wondering if you're the first or not." He grinned, shaking his head
sadly at us. "You're not. Lisa Galloway and I had a pretty intense workout
on MY first mission." He winked. "My commander assured me that WE weren't
the first either."
Al Steiner April 16, 1999