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Nerds in Space
by Space Cadet (no address provided)

***

Brief and intense affair between two NASA rocket 
scientists snowbound for a night. A true story of the 
Lunar Landing program. (MF, exh, mast, oral, lac, rom)

***

My name is Leonard Ruben. I'm an old time rocket 
scientist. It's not my real name, of course, but if 
you are reasonably familiar with the NASA lunar 
program, you can probably figure out who I am. Not 
that you would want to. The events I will describe 
took place half a century ago and most of those 
involved are either dead or in nursing homes. But this 
little story is actually true. It is one of the 
redeeming nuggets of pleasure in my long life.

No matter what you see on TV science shows the Apollo 
space program wasn't a carefully planned NASA 
enterprise conceived and directed by forward looking 
senior scientists and researchers. Rather it was a 
knee jerk political response to the Russian success in 
putting a satellite in orbit. 

Sure, both countries had plans to capitalize on their 
ICBM efforts by using rockets to loft scientific 
payloads into orbit but the Russians succeeded while 
our Vanguard rockets blew up on the launch pad. The 
Russians also mapped the back side of the moon and put 
a mobile vehicle on the lunar surface while all we 
could do was launch a beeping radio transmitter on a 
Redstone missile. 

So the politicians declared that we would leapfrog the 
Russkies and put a man on the moon. The trouble was 
that no one had an idea if it could be done. We had 
barely put a man in orbit. No senior NASA scientist 
wanted to have his reputation ruined if the project 
was a failure, although they were all ready to claim 
credit if it was a success. So the initial phases of 
the space program were left to untried, naive 
engineering nerds like us.

Nerds is perhaps too pejorative a term. Most of us 
were recent graduates from engineering schools, in our 
mid-20's. We were just like any other bunch of horny 
guys who wanted desperately to get laid, drink beer on 
weekends with our friends, and drive fast cars, the 
only difference was that most of us carried slide 
rules and wore pocket protectors in our shirts.

I received an electrical engineering degree in 1956 
after service in the Korean War. For the next six 
years I was a technological migrant worker flitting 
from aerospace company to aerospace company as it 
gained or lost defense contracts. By a weird throw of 
the dice my jobs were always at the cutting edge of 
aerospace fantasy. My fingerprints were on the Atlas 
missile, the mach-2 Canadian Avro CF105 fighter, the 
Polaris missile system, the mach-3 North American B70 
bomber and the Dynasoar space glider, the precursor of 
the 'Space Shuttle. Fortunately none of these devices 
was ever used in combat.

After working all day on methods of killing Cold War 
enemies, we chilled out on cold beer and hot girls. 
The decade from 1950 to 1960 was a sexual paradise for 
young unmarrieds. Birth control pills removed the fear 
of unwanted pregnancy, AIDS had yet to emerge as a 
sexually transmitted disease, the Haight-Asbury 
"Summer of Love" was in full flower, and women were 
asserting their rights to enjoy casual sex. More 
important, there were plenty of women in the 
technological workplace. Hot, nubile girls anxious to 
use their college degrees on the job and their bodies 
in bed.

I must confess that I took advantage of every 
opportunity to sleep with my feminine coworkers. It's 
not that they were gorgeous. It's just that they were 
willing. A typical evening would start with a few 
drinks at a nearby bar. Of course I would drive her 
home. The dating ritual mandated that she should 
invite me in to have "one for the road." We had a 
drink, or two, kissed, and groped each other. Protocol 
required that I unsnap her bra and grab a feel of her 
breasts. She, in turn, would unzip my pants and fondle 
my cock. We removed each other's clothes and tumbled 
to bed or the couch, whichever was closer. Sex was 
almost an anti-climax. Pleasant but expected. We 
clutched each other's bodies. 

I penetrated her cunt and sucked her boobies while she 
wrapped her legs around me and pulled me close. We 
moved in unison, fucking each other as we both rose to 
satisfactory climaxes. There was plenty of passion but 
little affection in these couplings. If things went 
really well, I would stay the night fucking my partner 
until we both fell asleep from exhaustion. We might 
get together on following nights or choose new 
partners. There was little jealousy involved. Free and 
open sex was the way of the 50's. It's hard to believe 
that we horny nerds were the guys who designed and 
engineered the high tech weaponry that was the bulwark 
of America's defenses during the Cold War.

By the early 60's it all changed for me. I was 30 
years old, almost an old man by the standards of my 
peers. My previous five years of aerospace experience 
made me something of a veteran rocket scientist. By 
then I was working for a division of that research 
powerhouse, Bell Labs. We had a contract with NASA for 
systems analysis on the entire manned space program. 
My primary responsibility was the Gemini space 
capsule. I got the job because the designer of the 
capsule, a Canadian, asked for me. He had been the 
chief aerodynamics engineer of AVRO and we had worked 
together on the CF105 fighter.

If you remember, the early NASA lunar space program 
used four types of manned capsules. First was the 
Mercury. Barely more than a sealed ashcan with a man 
inside, it was designed to orbit the Earth just to see 
if it could be done. This was the one that launched 
John Glenn to fame and was the subject of the movie 
"The Right Stuff." The largest and the most well-known 
space capsule was the Apollo. It was really a truck, 
manned by three astronauts and designed to ferry the 
Lunar Excursion Module, the LEM, to the moon and then 
return. 

The LEM was intended to only be used in space. It had 
ne re-entry capability. The Apollo would carry the LEM 
to near lunar orbit, detach it from its storage 
compartment and lock up with it. The landing crew 
would transfer to the LEM, descend to the moon's 
surface, walk around and pick up a few rocks and 
return to the Apollo. The LEM would be abandoned and 
the Apollo would return to Earth. Except no one was 
sure that it could be done. No human had ever walked 
in space, linked up with another spacecraft, or 
changed orbit. All that was tested out on my baby, the 
Gemini.

The Gemini was designed after the Apollo. It was the 
most sophisticated space capsule of the era. It had 
hatches that could open in space and permit an 
astronaut to leave and return. It could change 
orientation, rendezvous with another space capsule and 
even change its orbit. And it had enough life support 
capability for two men to survive for several weeks. 
It was the craft that proved that all of the things 
that were proposed for the Apollo were actually 
possible.

The responsibility of making sure that the Gemini was 
successful matured me. I supervised a team of 12 
senior engineers who, in turn, each supervised their 
own groups. My work day was mostly spent in reviewing 
and signing off on plans, attending meetings, and 
giving presentations to various political dignitaries. 
One such meeting was a weeklong session at the west 
coast offices of McDonnell Douglas, the primary 
contractor of the Gemini. It was to make sure that 
everyone was on the same page. Each subcontracting 
group sent representatives.

The person in charge of the Life Sciences aspect of 
the project was a young woman, Andrea Hendricks, 
approximately my own age. Andrea was primary 
responsible for the suit that the astronauts would 
wear for space walks and the actual lunar landing. She 
was short and attractive but appeared a bit heavy set. 
She wore loose, unfashionable clothes. In fact she 
looked like a female engineer. A nerdette, you might 
say. Still, I was impressed by her no nonsense 
approach at meetings. She obviously could get things 
done. Our coordination session broke up after a week 
and we all left for home.

Andrea and I were both going back to the Washington 
D.C. area and were booked on the same flight, a TWA 
Jetstream. The name "Jetstream" was TWA's effort to 
misguide the flying public. It was simply a gussied up 
Constellation propeller plane. All the other major 
airlines were converting to faster real jets. Still it 
was a favorite for business flyers. First Class was 
divided up into little four seat compartments. The 
stewardesses served free drinks with abandon. 

You could recline your seat into a fairly comfortable 
couch. A businessman could leave LA, booze and snooze 
his way to NYC, and arrive ready for a day's work, 
albeit with a considerable hangover. Because we knew 
each other on a first name basis, Andrea and I decided 
to share the same compartment.

As bad luck would have it the East coast was socked in 
by a monumental blizzard. New York, Philadelphia, 
Baltimore, and Washington airports were shut down. Our 
flight was terminated in Chicago and would continue 
the next day. The airline arranged for stranded 
passengers to get a room at the O'Hare Hilton, the 
Chicago airport hotel. With all eastbound flights 
terminating in Chicago the hotel was crowded to 
capacity. 

Only our initials and last names were on the passenger 
manifest so the hotel assumed that Andrea and I were 
two businessmen traveling together and allocated only 
one room, the last one available. When we arrived to 
check in, the desk clerk was truly embarrassed and 
told me that he could arrange a cot in one of the 
meeting rooms for me for the night. Andrea took the 
matter in her own capable hands. 

"Don't worry about it." she said to the clerk, "We are 
both adults. We can handle the sleeping 
accommodations."

Andrea and I were treated to a nice meal in the hotel 
restaurant. We had a very pleasant conversation, not 
at all about work. Andrea talked freely over dinner. 
She was forthright, direct and said exactly what she 
meant. I guess it was her engineering approach to 
life's problems. Most people would interpret her 
directness as a lack of social graces but after a 
while I learned to appreciate her no nonsense 
approach. In the time that I knew her I never heard 
her equivocate about any issue. 

I learned that she was a devotee of yoga and liked 
classical music. She shared a Georgetown apartment 
with two girlfriends. She had no serious boyfriend but 
was always on the lookout. Then we adjourned to our 
room. Our luggage had been sent on another flight to 
Washington but the hotel furnished us with 
toothbrushes, toiletries, and terry cloth bathrobes. 
We looked forward to an evening of watching TV on the 
new color set and then an early bedtime. We sat side 
by side on the couch with a hotel provided thermos of 
hot coffee, sipping from our cups while we watched the 
TV movie. I remember that it was the first James Bond 
film, "Dr. No."

Andrea and I flipped a coin to choose which one of the 
twin beds we wanted and who would take a shower first. 
I lost.

Andrea stepped out of the shower with her terry cloth 
robe wrapped around her.

"Len," she said. "We have to talk about our sleeping 
arrangements. I'm a bit reluctant to say this but I 
always sleep in the nude. I've done it ever since I 
was a child. A nightgown always bunches up and the 
wrinkles irritate me."

"Don't let it bother you," I replied. "I promise I 
won't look."

"I'm not worried about that. I'm sure you've seen a 
nude woman before and I'm not embarrassed. It's my 
breasts. They may seem a little strange." She paused 
for a while as if deciding what to do, then opened her 
robe and said, "Here, see what I mean."

Her breasts looked strange indeed. They were huge. 
Each one was bigger than a five pound sack of sugar 
and about as round. Unsupported, the well-formed 
mammaries hung down below her belly button. When she 
sat down on the edge of the bed the tips of her 
breasts rested against her thighs. It wasn't that the 
breasts sagged. They were just very big and heavy. 
There was a lot of meat packed inside them. Areolas 
the size of small saucers decorated the ends of her 
tits. Each was tipped with a very large nipple. In all 
other respects Andrea was very well toned. She was a 
very attractive normal woman. She had a pleasant, 
perky face, intelligent sparkling eyes, a narrow waist 
and great legs.

Some men are leg men, some are ass men, and some are 
tit men. I confess to being a bit of all three but I'm 
basically a leg man. Even in high school I would try 
to walk up the stairs behind a particularly attractive 
girl so I could sneak a look at her legs. Andrea's 
legs were certainly sexy but her breasts, her massive 
breasts, were all that I could see. Now I'm of the 
"more than one mouthful is a waste" school but 
Andrea's breasts were overwhelming. Some things are 
impressive because of sheer size. The Saturn 5 booster 
was impressive. So were her breasts.

"You see my problem," Andrea said. "I have a case of 
macromastia. Really big boobs. It's the reason I dress 
the way I do. I've got to hide them or most people 
will treat me as just a pair of tits and won't take me 
seriously. I had to show them to you up front because 
there wasn't a ghost of a chance that you wouldn't see 
them tonight. And I want to keep working with you. So 
look. Get it out of your system. You can even touch 
them if you want. I promise I won't be offended."

"Andrea, you look fine. I can't say that I'm not 
interested. What normal guy wouldn't be interested? 
But I respect your abilities and how much you have 
contributed to the program too much to let my male 
desires get in the way. Sleep nude if you want. I'll 
keep strictly to my side of the room."

"I'm glad you feel that way but I have another 
problem. I leak. I started lactating in my early 20s 
because of a hormone abnormality. The doctor called it 
a mild case of galactorrhea. She said that a lot of 
women have this problem. One day my breasts just 
started to drip milk. It was just a few drops at 
first, then slowly increased to an amount normal for a 
breastfeeding mother. And before you ask, I've never 
been pregnant."

"The doctor explained that the condition was due to a 
hormone excess that would probably diminish with time. 
It wasn't dangerous or anything. Just annoying. At 
first I tried simply absorbing the drips with breast 
pads but after a while the flow became too much. Now I 
have to milk myself a couple of times a day or it gets 
painful. Do you mind if I do it now? You can watch if 
you want. It's not gross or anything."

"No, I don't mind." I said. "In fact I would like to 
see you do it if it won't embarrass you."

I don't know what I thought she would do. Perhaps use 
a purse sized breast pump. I didn't expect what she 
actually did. Frankly, I was surprised. 

Andrea simply pushed her robe aside and raised her 
right boob. My eyes popped. I was startled by the fact 
that she did it so nonchalantly. A tiny drop of milk 
oozed out of the tip of the turgid nipple.

Andrea grasped her dripping breast with both hands and 
raised it up. It was almost too big to hold in her 
small hands. She gazed admiringly at the swollen 
nipple and dug her fingers into the mound of breast 
flesh. This made the nipple bulge even more. She 
grasped her nipple between her fingers and massaged it 
vigorously. Her fingers pressed the bulging areola and 
a thin stream of milk emerged from the nipple. 

"See, " Andrea said. "It's really leaking. I may have 
waited a bit too long. Would you like some milk in 
your coffee? I know I would." Her last remarks really 
shocked me. But, I'm sure that Andrea felt "In for a 
penny, in for a pound."

She leaned over and squeezed the end of her tittie, 
squirting a stream of mother's milk into her coffee 
cup. I'm sure I had a startled look on my face. I 
licked my lips.

I stopped Andrea before she could do my cup. 

"I like my coffee black." I paused for a while, then I 
said. "But what does it taste like? I've never tasted 
human milk before."

"Well, it tastes like . . ." She hesitated a moment, 
then said, "I can't describe it. Why don't you come 
over here and find out?" She sat down on the couch and 
patted the seat next to her. "Come over here."

"Now put my nipple in your mouth and start sucking. 
Don't bite me though." 

She held her huge naked breast up with both hands and 
offered it to me. I staggered over in a daze and sat 
next to her. The large nipple was stiff in 
anticipation. It was nearly an inch long and half an 
inch thick, centered in a perfect areola. She put a 
hand behind my head and placed her nipple in my gaping 
mouth. I felt the rough nipple with my tongue and 
closed my lips around it. I sucked like through a 
straw but nothing came out. 

"You have to squeeze the flesh around the nipple 
against the roof of your mouth with your tongue for 
the milk to start." She coached. "That's how the 
babies do it. It's just like milking a cow." 

I followed her instructions. I never milked a cow 
before but I was rewarded with a flow of my milk. She 
pressed my head into her breast as I sucked. Although 
I started tentatively, I was really getting into it. 
My cheeks hollowed and filled and I sucked so strongly 
that I thought that I would swallow her whole boob. 
That would have been a real tough job.

As I nursed her I became aware that I had a raging 
erection. It pushed a tent in my robe. I hoped Andrea 
wouldn't notice. No such luck. With her free hand she 
fished out my hard penis. Andrea wrapped her hand 
around it and began stroking. It was so matter of fact 
that I had no time to pull back. With a few strong 
strokes I erupted, spewing cum over her hand. I'm sure 
she could tell the instant I came by the way my jaw 
clamped down on her tit. She held me even tighter to 
her chest as I continued to suck. Finally the milk 
supply was exhausted. We both sat up, her naked breast 
hanging obscenely out of her robe, my now limp cock 
protruding from my own robe.

"I'm sorry for the way I behaved," I said. "It's 
really unlike me. I just got carried away."

"It's all my fault," Andrea said as she stuffed her 
boob back into her robe. "I started the whole thing. 
And I enjoyed your mouth on my nipple. Are you sure 
you've never milked a cow?"

We talked for a while but we simply danced around the 
topic. I knew that before the evening was over I would 
fuck Andrea. She knew it too but we were bound by 
convention to observe the proprieties. She took off 
her robe and exposed both of her breasts in their 
entirety. These were not the breasts of a nymphet but 
mature, sexual boobs promising erotic pleasure. She 
offered them to me as if she was giving me a precious 
gift.

My cock was already starting to erect again. Andrea 
had something more interesting in mind than having me 
just nibble on her boobs. Dropping to her knees, she 
grabbed my cock and jammed it into her mouth. She 
stroked and sucked, giving me my first good blowjob in 
over a year. And it was one of the best ones. My cock 
became hard as iron. She was going to make me cum 
again. But before I came, I grasped her under the arms 
and pulled her up and lifted her like a baby. I 
deposited her in the middle of the  bed. It was the 
one she had selected after winning the coin toss.

Andrea's hand guided my cock to its target. I felt it 
push her pussy lips apart as I penetrated her cunt. No 
hesitation. I just plunged into her, so far that my 
cock bottomed against her cervix. Her clit was being 
massaged by our pubic bones. 

It had been a long time since I had fucked a woman 
like this. Fucked, fucked, YES!! That was my hard cock 
in her cunt. Her wet vagina massaged my penis as I 
thrust in and out. Andrea had marvelous muscle control 
of her pussy. Much better than a hand job. YES!!

Andrea was being royally fucked. Just as I suspect she 
wanted to be. We were indefatigable. My first climax 
of the evening had taken the urgency out of my passion 
and I was now in it for the long haul. I tried to play 
it cool. It was all I could do not to shout for joy.

She wrapped her legs around me and pulled me into her 
with her strong calves. I felt Andrea's left breast 
start to leak. It was the one that had not been 
emptied. She pushed the nipple to my mouth. What a 
wonderful feeling, fucking and sucking at the same 
time. I knew that I was going to ejaculate. My body 
began to respond almost automatically.

I heard Andrea screaming, "OH MY GOD! DO IT TO ME 
HARDER. I'M GOING TO CUM! I'M CUMMING! I'M JUST A CUNT 
THAT'S CUMMING. I'M CUMMING! I'M CUMMING NOW! I'M 
CUUUMMMING!"

So much for being cool. We both came in the mother of 
all climaxes. Just to prove that it wasn't a fluke, we 
fucked each other another time with similar results. 
Every scientist knows that you have to repeat an 
experiment to ascertain its validity.

About midnight we decided we needed some refreshments. 
The restaurant was closed so we raided the mini bar. 
Andrea's bountiful breasts needed emptying every four 
hours. Her huge boobs forced us to improvise a sexual 
position not mentioned in the Kama Sutra. To 
accommodate our love making and breast milking at the 
same time Andrea sat in my lap facing me, skewered on 
my hard penis. She raised one of her nipples to my 
mouth and the other to her own mouth.

We fucked each other gently while we feasted on her 
milk. I'm sure that some men and a few women as well 
might think that drinking human milk is yucky but I 
confess that I rather liked the taste. And, of course 
I liked the container that Andrea's milk came in. Even 
after fondling them for half the night, I couldn't get 
over the size of Andrea's tits. Andrea loved the fact 
that I appreciated her huge breasts as well. She said 
that that many of her dates were turned off by them.

After a couple of more minibar drinks, Andrea told me 
about the problems of having outsized breasts. She 
felt that there was no male parallel to having a set 
of large boobs sticking out of the front of your 
chest. Men just didn't appreciate the problem. Her 
titties were heavy. So heavy that she sometimes lost 
her balance if she moved too quickly. Another 
disadvantage of big breasts is that there really was 
no comfortable way to sleep. Lying on her stomach was 
difficult. 

She found that she could lay on her side and once in a 
while stretched the upper breast up to her mouth. That 
was fairly comfortable. She would gently tongue the 
nipple. It was like a baby going to sleep with a 
pacifier. Andrea felt that her breasts dominated much 
of her life so much that she would damned well get 
some pleasure out of them. 

She said that she masturbated frequently. She would 
put both hands around a fleshy mound, raise her titty 
to her mouth and suck on her nipple until it became 
swollen and aroused. Then she would do the same to the 
other. When both nipples were as hard as she could get 
them, she would grasp the bulging teats between her 
teeth and start chewing. She could suck on them for 
hours. After she started lactating she would nurse 
from her own boobies while she massaged her cunt until 
she came. Andrea attributed much of her success on the 
job to the fact that she could satisfy her sexual 
urges by herself. She didn't have to spend a lot of 
time being nice to a lover.  

She must have been more than a little drunk when she 
told me that she loved masturbating with her boobies. 
And who wouldn't I thought. If I was a woman and had 
breasts like that, I would use them myself every 
night.  

Andrea said, "When I was in high school I used to hate 
my boobs. I couldn't wear all those cute clothes that 
were advertised in Seventeen. But then I found that 
boys liked my big titties. After I began to have sex I 
changed my mind. I liked them too. They are great sex 
toys. I like to pull my boobs hard. I'll bet that I 
could stretch my boobs so far that I could even fuck 
myself with my nipple."

"No way," I replied, "They're big but I don't think 
they are that big. You might be able to touch your 
cunt with your nipple but I don't think you could bend 
it enough to actually put it in your vagina. I'll bet 
you anything you want that you can't do it."

As you can see, we must have both been pretty drunk to 
have that kind of conversation.

"Well," slurred Andrea, "I've never tried to fuck 
myself with my tittie before so it's really an 
experiment. The only way for us to find out if I can 
do it is for me to try it. I'll have fun trying."

Andrea fluffed her hair, stretched and bent over a few 
times as if to loosen herself up. When she leaned over 
to touch her toes, her nipples almost reached the 
floor as soon as her fingers. Her breasts were 
amazing. 

"Now for the big experiment." 

Andrea sat on her bed with her back against the 
headboard. She raised her hips as far as she could and 
leaned forward dropping her left shoulder. This put 
her left nipple below the level of her now engorged 
clit. It didn't quite reach far enough to bend 
backward and insert into her cunt. She could pull it 
down with her hands but the moment she released it, it 
sprang back. She needed both hands for what she had in 
mind. What to do? 

Andrea pulled the soft terry cloth belt off of her 
bathrobe and looped it twice around her dangling boob. 
She pulled it tight and knotted it. Binding her breast 
worked just as she expected. The end bulged like a 
water balloon and stretched the tit at least two more 
inches. She reached down with her left hand and tugged 
up under her left thigh. Her yoga practice must have 
always kept Andrea quite flexible and now it paid off. 
Her nipple was now well below clit level. She paused 
for a moment, admiring the fact that she could bend so 
far.

The end of her breast was between her thighs and she 
as pressed them together the end bulged out still 
further. With both hands she reached beneath her legs 
and held the tip of her tit. She could easily rub her 
nipple on her clit. 

"Oh wow! That feels good. I'll have to remember that." 

Andrea grasped the stiff nipple of her left breast and 
pulled it out as far as she could. And then she did 
it. She stuffed the nipple and a bit of her areola 
into her wet cunt holding it there with her fingers. 
Her middle finger penetrated her cunt and pushed the 
nipple in farther. Andrea worked the nipple with her 
middle finger moving it in and out slightly. The 
nipple's movements massaged her clit. 

She turned her face to me, obviously proud of what she 
could do. 
She tried to smile but there was a look of barely 
controlled sexual tension in her eyes. She was 
obviously trying to hold back an orgasm.

Her finger motions became more and more aggressive, 
her nipple harder and harder. The nipple was now well 
into her cunt and the little bumps of her areola were 
rubbing against her engorged clit. Her stiff nipple 
was making love to her receptive clitoris. Andrea 
pulled herself down further with her left hand and 
shoved more and more of her areola into her vagina. 
Everything was well lubricated from her cunt's natural 
moisture and the few drops of milk streaming from her 
tortured tit. The fingers of her right hand beat a 
tattoo on both her breast and the exposed lips of her 
cunt. 

"I'm really doing it," she said. "I'm fucking myself 
with my own tit and it feels wonderful." She talked 
quietly. "Oh, it feels so good!. My titty and clitty 
are kissing each other. Fucking each other. I love 
it!. It's from both ends of me. I can't believe I can 
actually fuck myself with my own tit. What a turn on!" 

The signs of a coming climax were all over her body, 
slow at first because of her awkward position, then 
more and more intense.  I could see the vibrations of 
her legs on the end of the tit captured between her 
thighs. Her calves tensed, pointing her toes. The 
waves of breast flesh rippled over her extended boob.

She tried to prolong the moment but her fingers kept 
moving out of her control. Faster and harder. Faster 
and harder. Thighs squeezing her breast. Nipple 
against clitoris. Andrea made a noise like a cat 
whimpering. It looked like she could barely stand the 
pleasure. She would cum in just a few more seconds. 
Then Andrea's legs spasmed and she exploded in a 
massive climax, uncoiling from her cramped position 
like a released spring.

"I did it!" Andrea shouted as she lay splayed out on 
the bed. She had a bit of a finger bruise on her thigh 
from the tightness of her grip.  As she sat up she 
brought her abused nipple to her mouth and savored the 
combined taste of milk and pussy juices. Andrea turned 
to me and held out her arms.

"It's your turn now, big boy. I won the bet. You said 
you would do anything I asked. Now stick your cock in 
me, chew my titties and pay off by fucking me so hard 
I can't stand."

Andrea's sex show had made my cock as hard as it had 
ever been. In retrospect, I know that she had intended 
to seduce me but I was certainly a willing victim. 
I'll never know if it was a maneuver to ingratiate 
herself with her boss or to amuse herself during the 
hours of snowbound delay. Clearly I had fallen for one 
of the standard plots of porn fiction. You know the 
one, the lactating woman on a trip who finds her 
breasts swelling so badly that she has to find some 
accommodating man who will suck the milk out of her 
titties. I was that man.

But all that was irrelevant. No matter what her 
original intent, Andrea got caught in her own trap. 
Our sexual pleasure was so intense that the original 
purpose for the seduction was forgotten. We made love 
to each other in an almost manic fashion, each pulling 
orgasms out of the other's body when we should have 
been totally exhausted. We were two animals in heat. I 
ate her cunt. She sucked my cock. And we fucked again 
and again. We literally quivered in repeated ecstasy. 
It was a marathon of sex. The best ever for both of 
us. We never used my bed at all.

Our night long orgy was interrupted by a wakeup call 
the next morning. The runways at National Airport in 
Washington had been cleared and our flight would take 
off in two hours. Just in time to dress, have 
breakfast and make the plane. The flight back was 
uneventful. After we landed Andrea and I went our 
separate ways. Her only acknowledgment of our shared 
adventure was a peck on the cheek and a whisper in my 
ear, "Thank you SO much for last night."   

The funny thing about our brief affair was that before 
being grounded in Chicago I never thought about Andrea 
in a sexual way. I respected her as a professional and 
that was it. After we got back to Washington we met in 
meetings but neither of us contacted the other for a 
repeat performance. I guess it was always on the 
table. We exchanged knowing glances from time to time. 
But nothing ever happened.

A couple of months after my return to DC I received an 
appointment as a professor at a New York university, a 
job I had been angling for years. I left NASA for New 
York. The Gemini project was just about completed 
anyway. Andrea and I never were intimate again but I'm 
sure we will both remember that snowbound night 
forever.

And that's how the space program was carried out. 

END

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. 4-million people around the world 
contract HIV every year. You only have one body per 
lifetime, so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 76