May 19, 2011

Secret Space Dalliance

submitted by Amara Charles Back

An Erotic Story by Raz.

My dalliance began during the training for what would be my second and last space flight. Courtney (not her real name either) flirted endlessly with the seven men in the team throughout our training. She touched us at every opportunity: on the arm when she talked to us; on the shoulder in the bar after work; always flaring her nostrils with eyes wide open, a sign we all recognized. The rest of the crew was married – I was the only single guy; we mostly managed to maintain our professional cool.

“California” Mike Smith, the mission commander, was a gifted pilot, calm under pressure, and a play-by-the-rules kind of guy. Cal walked and talked like a movie star and oozed sex appeal from every pore. Women fell at his feet all the time. If anybody was going to make it with Courtney, it would have to be Cal. Sure enough, after Courtney checked us all out, she chose Cal. She had decided to become famous for having sex in the Shuttle followed by a tell-all about it, leading to a life of comfortable wealth; celebratory has its appeal.

Courtney was a legend in the Navy after she landed a crippled F-18 on the tiny bobbing deck of the carrier Enterprise. Unable to eject, she put the 50 ton machine down on a pitching deck at night, disobeying direct orders (nobody wants a 50 ton, out-of-control, piece of scrap metal mussing up the deck of a $2 billion boat) – saving herself, her REO, and most of the airplane. The brass was not amused. So when she applied to NASA, the Navy gave her a glowing recommendation and got her out of their hair!

The early morning blast off from the Cape was as routine as 5 million pounds of thrust can ever be, and the Shuttle began its long eastern arc into the rising sun. Once Courtney had settled Discovery into a comfortable orbit 105 miles above the earth, we peeled off our space suits and got into the blue jump suits we would wear for the duration of the flight. Propriety meant we’d avoid being nude while we changed (we were prudish Americans after all); the thought of so much skin would give the earthbound mission planners apoplexy. So we were a little coy as we stripped.

I was down to my tiny, black, cotton briefs (the regulation issue tighty-whiteys would be too ugly to contemplate) as I watched Courtney, waiting for that moment when her magnificent breasts would be liberated from their NASA-ordained confinement. I knew from my previous mission that the well endowed ladies could put on quite a show as their breasts responded to their new found weightlessness.
We all (men and women) wanted to see Courtney’s breasts floating free in the worst possible way. And when she pulled her red sports bra over her head, we were not disappointed. We marveled at how her breasts slow samba’d to a mystical planetary beat while inexplicably beautiful ripples wandered lazily over their breathtaking expanse. With their fully erect dark brown nipples leading the way, Courtney’s movements attracted the attention of everyone on board, but we all pretended not to look.

As I watched Courtney, my pulse quickened, my breathing almost stopped and my muscles grew tight in my chest – a purely reptilian response. I suffered a sharp stab of embarrassment as I became aware of the inappropriately large bulge in my tiny underwear. So I made a grab for my jump suit, fiddling clumsily with the zipper like a sixteen year old boy trying to get his pants back on before his mom caught him with a Penthouse centerfold. My cock stood firmly at attention and I just knew the crew was now focused on my rock hard friend. But when I turned around, nobody was looking at me.

Cal and Courtney were paired for duty together throughout the flight so they would be either working or resting at the same time. As Courtney told me later, she started by shooting out a feeler, “So Cal, do you want to go for it?”
“For what?” Cal asked absently although she instantly saw him perk up and shuffle uncomfortably, a move every woman recognizes instantly.
“Sex, you silly astronaut,” she responded, a suggestive twitch on her lips. Cal put on his best Captain Face, the one that said he had nothing to figure out.
“We can’t,” he said. “You’re the Shuttle Pilot and I’m the Mission Commander – we can’t just fuck and pretend nothing happened. Everyone on this ship would know just by looking at us that we’d been screwing around.”

“So what?” she demanded, “Why do we care what they think? Come on Cal, it’s the 21st Century and nobody cares about rules these days. I won’t tell if you don’t and the rest of the crew will never know for sure.” Cal squeezed the words “Forget it” out of his mouth, and added, “Look Courtney, you are beautiful and a lot of fun but I am not going to jeopardize this mission by having sex with you; so just forget it, OK?” For the balance of their rest period they both pretended to read checklists which they knew by heart; anything to avoid having to talk to each other.

Eight hours later it was time for our first night in space. We readied the ship for sleep, washed, and clambered into sleepsacks which were scattered around the ship. After a grueling 17 hour day, I immediately dozed off.

Two hours after I had fallen into a deep sleep, the woman drifted toward me in the darkened room. She wore nothing but her smile. She reached out and touched my lips with the tip of her index finger in the universal gesture for silence, then slid her finger into my mouth and stroked the tip of my tongue. When she withdrew, she put her wet finger into her own mouth. Looking agressively into my eyes, the woman slid her fingers down her belly and between her legs, gently fondling the fleshy hood around her moist clit. She pushed two fingers into her pussy, finger fucking herself with her right hand while squeezing hard on her nipples with her left. My brain was screaming for release when the woman withdrew her shining fingers from her pussy and eased them gently into my mouth. My lips closed around the probing fingers and I reveled in her taste.

“You have a beautiful cock”, she intoned in her silky voice. I responded by telling her that that was the best compliment a woman had ever paid me (and I meant it). So I reached down to my cock and started to stroke it, top to bottom, sliding my fingers down the shaft to its base, feeling the bottom of my curled hand touch my swollen balls. I was hot and very definitely bothered by this woman. I wondered if I could hold back long enough to get my pulsing cock into her before I came. I tried my best tricks – thinking of dead puppies (no, that didn’t work), and counting backwards from 1,000 in 13’s (1000, 987, 974, 961…) there, that’s better, I might hang on after all. Her face shone with desire as she fondled my cock, squeezing the corona between her fingers and making popping sounds as her lips played with the tip, nibbling gently with her teeth just below the crown. When she slid the full length of it down her throat, her lips were on my balls. I wanted her right now.

She launched a smile in my direction then turned around and motioned for me to slip my cock in from behind. I would have to hold on to her or she would fly away with every thrust and my backwards approach made that so much easier.

“OK, easy does it Raz baby; gently now; 8 feet per minute forward, 2 feet per minute right; one degree up; contact; soft dock; go for hard dock; thrust levers neutral, engines to idle.” It was with such unerring precision that I entered her. “My God it feels good to get my cock into your vibrating pussy,” I heard myself say to her. “It was just like docking the Shuttle but it feels sooooooo much better.”

Re-engaging the thrusters, I eased forward, going deeper into her and she moaned loudly – was it pleasure or pain or both (I thought, unoriginally, but did not say, “Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn”). I squeezed in a little reverse thrust and withdrew a few inches. I was trying to get into a rhythm but my excitement was overwhelming. I could feel the first waves of my impending orgasm and all the counting in the world was not going to save me. When I came, my ejaculate hit her bare ass and careened off in all directions on an ever expanding flight. “HOLY FUCK,” I thought, “This is a disaster.” There’ll be semen in the instruments we need to get back home; on the walls, on the floor, in the air filters. With a blend of disappointment, pleasure and fear, I partly cried and partly screamed, “Oh no! Not now! No way! Shit. Oh God! I am so, so sorry.” But someone was shaking me and calling my name.

“Raz. Raz. Raz honey. Sshh, you’ll wake everyone up.” Courtney had my arm and was shaking it, shushing me quiet. Reality rapidly dawned on me. This woman was not the woman in my dream; this was Courtney, and she was real. I had been having sex but that had been a dream. I’d come in my dream but the dampness on my thigh meant I’d come in the real world as well. What a mess! Courtney handed me a towel and I patted myself dry.

“So was it me in your dream or an imaginary dreamboat?” Courtney asked. Through trembling lips, I forced the words, “This is very embarrassing for me, Courtney. Let’s just keep this our secret shall we?”

“On one condition,” Courtney whispered. “I want sex on this flight and Cal has his head up his ass. So I’d like to do it with you.” With that, she reached into my sleepsack and twirled a morsel of semen in my chest hair. She then slipped her fingers into her mouth. “Delicious baby, but I want more.”

The rest of the crew slept on in blissful ignorance.

So, Courtney wanted sex with me in space. I thought, “If Courtney wants space-sex and if the good Captain won’t help her out, why don’t I?” I was sure (well, I was pretty sure) I could have space sex with Courtney and not screw up the mission. And, just like that, any guilt I might have felt about risking the mission evaporated. Let’s face it. An erect penis has no conscience.

On the last night in space, I lay awake in my sack, wondering how this night was going to play out. My hand couldn’t leave my cock alone. I stroked it. Pulled the foreskin back over the shaft and slowly worked myself into a lather. When Courtney came to me, I was ready. As she stroked my body, I responded with tender words and kind caresses (designed to cool me down and heat her up). Her kisses told me she was as ready as I.

She took my hand and floated me to the one area of the shuttle where nobody sleeps. Once there, I peeled off Courtney’s suit and slid her out of her panties which just floated away, driven by accelerations of unfathomable complexity. I wondered what might happen if we couldn’t find them later but then… whatever. When we were both naked, we held onto each other and floated serenely around the soft-walled cabin, occasionally bumping into the padded walls and ceiling as our bodies reacted to the forces we exerted on our heavenly bodies.

I pushed my tongue into Courtney’s open mouth, gently working in and out then I slid it, flattened, along the length of her parted lips. My fingers ran down her spine and into the crack at the top of her ass. I teased her luscious pink cheeks and the gap between them with my finger tips, gently caressing every pore and imagining rather than feeling every fluffy blonde hair on this delicately sensitive part of her body. I had longed for this woman for more than a year, and my longing was about to end when Jenny, the bio-specialist on the crew, poured herself down the access tunnel. She pushed her naked body between us; this was going to be quite a night.

Where Courtney was animal cute, Jenny was nice cute. Her smile could melt the Arctic Ice shelf and her body in full view was spectacular. Jenny was the girl next door you had thoughts about but never approached. Now, here she was, naked, in a ménage with Courtney and with me. Could it ever get any better than this?

“Mind if I join you guys?” Jen enquired. “Looks like it could be quite a party.”

“Sure, welcome aboard Jen,” Courtney gasped out the words, not quite believing her luck that on this last night in space she was going to have sex with not one astronaut but two and they weren’t even the same gender.

“That OK with you Raz?”

“No problem. Fine with me,” but I almost gagged on the words.

I lightly brushed Jen’s cheek with the back of my hand to start her off gently – I didn’t want to frighten her. Courtney was already kissing her pussy lips with long, slow ardent strokes of her tongue.

There were hands, tongues, arms and legs everywhere. Nobody was quite sure who belonged to what or whose hand was touching whose ass, and the exploration was only just beginning. The sex continued unabated for what must have been ninety minutes. Courtney, came quickly and often, arching her back and gritting her teeth to stop herself screaming time and time again; Jen came multiple times too but her orgasms were different – quiet moans while her body shook violently, hitting 8 on the Richter scale.

I unloaded twice and had a nice firm erection going for a third when our momentum slowed just enough for our brains to click back into gear. The crew’s wake-up call would come in two hours and we needed some sleep before re-entry. How the hell was Courtney going to pilot the Shuttle back to that microscopic runway in Florida on two hours sleep? Frankly, right then, I didn’t care. I was wallowing in the afterglow of incredible sex with two incredible women. I would have died a happy man to have been taken in that moment. Instead we just glided back to our sacks. I did not sleep for a single moment before the wake-up call played “Save a Horse – Ride a Cowboy.”

Unfortunately for Courtney’s dreams of fame and fortune, the American public was not ready for a ménage. So, we made a pact there’d be no stories and no scandals. To this day, we are treated as royalty wherever we go, a treatment we would not be accorded if we had scandalized the nation.

Courtney and I retired from the space program and made a lot more money talking about it than we ever did working in it. Jen made one more trip into space but I’ve never asked her if she got it on during that trip too.

Jen, Courtney and I meet once a year on the anniversary of that night to re-live the “event” as we call it. We have a great dinner, a few drinks, then climb into sleepsacks like those in the Shuttle. At some unplanned moment, we “float” out of our sacks down to the crew area (actually, the king size bed in my guest room) and make passionate love with each other in every possible combination. I am still single, but Jen and Courtney are now married. They simply tell their husbands that they are going for a crew reunion which is at least partly true!

Now its bedtime and I am looking forward to repeating that recurring dream I have: two women, naked, with me, having sex, in an orbiting fucking Shuttle.

Raz’s ‘bio’: I have flown in space twice and have a PhD in astrophysics from MIT. I live in Houston but spend a lot of time in Arizona.


Check out my collection of erotic poetry, stories and photography in Aching to Open.

NEW! Aching to Open, A Collection of Erotic Poetry, Stories and Photography

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