Ch. 1 - Old Flames and New

I click send and see a dim eggplant emoji flash against her iris. I'd meant to flash her a thumbs up emoji but I got a bit distracted.

She giggles and then chuckles, her throat rolling with her mirth. "My big little fuckmonster," she laughs and then kisses me again as she starts to fuck me harder, faster...

Damn the Kessel, she can fuck like nobody has a business to fuck! Her hips crash against mine over and over as she churns my raging hard cock deep in the molten cauldron of her bewitching cunt! I feel my balls thrum and start to churn up a huge load that steadilly starts to rise deep inside me.

An alarm sings against the back of my neck and scalp. We're not alone. And I don't just mean the crowd of spacedick voyeurs watching through Annalise's feeds. There's someone else in the room!

Instinctively, I roll us, my cock never slipping from 'Lise's grippy, slippery hot pussy. I slide my arms behind her knees and lever her hips up to receive my thrusts at the same time that I raise my torso to have a better look around.

There! And there! The faint ripple of cloaking shields shimmer in two corners of the room.

"Mmmnnng," 'Lise moans. I look at her and she's staring straight at me. As soon as our eyes lock, she gushes, "Fuckyes, Aylen! Do it fuck me! Just fuck me hard! Fuckiloveyourbighardhotfucking cock!"

I plunge into her, feeling her climax start to churn in the familiar grind of her cunt muscles. Fuck, I'm gonna cum so fucking hard! I haven't fucking cum since...

Annalise's orgasm grips her with a throaty roar and, "Aaaaughh! Yes! Yes! Fuckimcumming! Gah! Aaaaaughh!"

I feel my own climax nearing and I'm just about to cum metric bucketloads... when a sparkle bomb fills the room with prismatic chaff.

I can't see a thing. And oh yeah: I've just been cock-blocked by tactical action, originator unknown. Fuck!

Soft but irresistibly strong hands pull me from 'Lise. Then a hot mouth and at least two soft hands wrap around my cock and balls and quickly bring me right back to the edge of my peak.

I'm so close I can't possibly hold back. Just a few expert strokes and I'm...

"Fuck!"

My climax erupts with a huge bolus of semen that rips through my urethra with a blinding bright, joyous ache.

"Aaaaaughhh!"

It's soon followed by jet after jet of cum pumping out my hard, tight, three-years-edged cock.

It goes on and on and fucking on and I lose track of how long and how hard and how much I've cum. I regain most of my awareness as the last rhythmic aftershocks slowly diminish, leaving me panting and sweat-drenched and dangerously euphoric for a tactical situation.

A blond Terran woman with full red lips curled into a sexy smile squats beside me, cupping my balls. Beside her, a lavender-skinned Bethnian woman is just now pulling her mouth from my cock. She holds one finger against her lips, bidding me to be quiet.

Behind them, Annalise sprawls across the day bed in her armor, her black tresses fallen across her face. Her chest rises - thank goodness! - but she's definitely out cold.

The Bethnian plucks at her lips with the fingers of one hand and withdraws a monofil mouth condom sloshing full of what looks like four or five hundred metrils of semen.

Fuck! Is that all mine, I wonder.

The Terran pulls a syringe out of her blouse. It's filled with a translucent amber liquid that she squirts into the condom. The Bethnian twists the top of the condom into a seal and shakes the contents vigorously, mixing whatever that is into the semen. Into my cum.

The Terran pulls what looks like a penis-shaped glass dildo out of her shirt and inserts it into the condom. She presses a button on the base and with a low hum, the dildo fills up with the adulterated cum.

The Bethnian seals the condom. About one third of the liquid remains. She ties it up and tucks it into her robe as the Terran slides between Annalise's thighs. I don't see what's happening but I can guess. 'Lise moves a little and moans but doesn't rouse. When the Terran turns back around, the dildo's empty but for some frothy semen that clings to its inside. She rises, grabbing my wrist and repeating the be quiet sign with her other hand.

She tugs me back through the hallway into the atrium and the Bethnian follows behind. My robe is sitting on a table, bundled neatly around my other clothes and the items I'd dropped when I stripped. Amazingly, my go bag sits next to it. How did they even find it, let alone release it from its locker?!

The Terran plucks up my robe and passes it to me. The Bethnian picks up my go bag and they lead me out the back quickly. I haven't got time to dress other than to shove my feet into the terrain socks that I'd left on the steps.

A flash above the eastern horizon betrays the cause of our hurry. Two landers burn down out of the afternoon sky. Clearly not friends. I don't have any friends that know where I am right now. Unless I count 'Lise.

"Hurry! That's Squad One," the Bethnian urges.

We do. The Terran sprints ahead and I see her rise into the air after just a few strides. Her boots leave dirt prints on the cloaked ship's gangway. Good thing, or I'd have face-planted on it for sure. A holoscreen flickers as the Terran slips through the cloaked hatch and the Bethnian and I follow.

I enter the ship and see the Terran scamper through a long hallway to the cockpit and deftly vault over the command pilot's seat. She flicks confidently through her start-up procedures with one hand while punching the all-hatch secure with the other. The cargo bay dims to amber lighting as the gangway and cockpit hatches secure.

"I'm Y'Jaan," the Bethnian finally confides as she leads me to a troop seat against the port bulkhead. "Up front's Major Kimma. Captian Kimma, now that we're back on her command ship. We're both so honored to meet you!"

Kind of a loose use of the term, I think. They both just:

a. interrupted some of the best sex of my life with a woman I'm pretty sure I'm still sweet as hell on,

b. blew me,

c. tainted my ejaculate with some amber goo,

d. pumped it into said woman of my dreams, and - in what seems a deliberately planned move -

e. abducted/rescued me from Harvest Command's elite First Squad.

Yeah. We've got some more meeting left to do, I think as I strap into the webbing, but Y'Jaan's already scampering up a tube into the dorsal gun array.

I settle in for launch and take in the ship around me. It looks like a late model Macabbe assault troop/cargo lander with some after-market modulars and mods.

That's all the time I've got to think. We've lifted to main engine altitude and the escape thrusters cut in. I'm pressed against the webbing at what feels like sixty metras per second, per second of thrust; way more than needed for orbit. Captain Kimma evidently wants to get to safe jump distance yesterday.

Surprisingly, my ears don't pop. Hmm... We were already rigged for space. After a few minutes and no pew-pew sounds from topside, I figure we haven't been spotted. At least not by the landers. There's bound to be a picket, though.

"SDBG ahead," the Captian calls over the ship-wide. Super-Dreadnaught Battle Group. Great! Why tell me? I'm just a passenger. Why not keep it on crew comms?

"Launch drogue on my mark," she announces. I feel the ship vectoring for jump. "Three... two... one... Mark," she calls. I feel a thrum run through the ship's belly just as the engines cut out and the ship goes dark. Everything cuts off including the thrust and I'm left floating naked and alone in complete EM darkness.

We keep hurtling through space along our last vector... presumably taking us into the particle wake of the hyperspace drogue - if that's what it was. Long moments or minutes or maybe hours pass in the pitch black of the hold. I'm grateful that the air is still comfortably cool, though I'm covered in nervous sweat.

Oh, yeah - and in the sticky sheen of my recent lovemaking. I remember feeling Lise sweat against me as we fucked, but that must have just been sensory induction, right? Why build armor that sweats?

I feel the ship's attitude changing in pitch, yaw, and roll as internal gimbals spin us towards a new heading. I hear what must be the crew door hiss open on pneumatics.

"Chaff-chaff-chaff," the Captain bellows down the hall.

I feel a slight thrum from the aft bulkhead.

"Chaff away," Y'Jaan calls out from the weapons station.

I feel the tingle of the IS drive spinning up - really smooth, really quiet, and really fast! Aftermarket mods all over! Then the bottom of my gut drops into my sore testicles as we jump. Moments later, the compartment lights come slowly up to medium-bright.

"We're clean. Secure from battle stations," the Captain announces on ship-wide.

I take this as permission to unstrap. I float up and brace on the bulkhead behind me and find a handhold. I spin and look for my gear. My go bag is magged to a cargo plate a few meters away but my street clothes are nowhere to be seen. A stack of lockers covers the bulkhead above and behind the troop seats.

"Your clothes are in G2," Y'Jaan calls from behind me," there's shipsocks, a jumper, and a fresher kit in F1." I turn to see that she's launched herself expertly from the bottom of the access tube to angle for hold points just to my right. She arrests herself neatly and hangs next to me smiling - beaming, actually - and glowing with something else besides. There's a faint luminosity at the base of her cranial furls and it's matched by soft, mottled highlights that span her exposed chest and cleavage now that her blouse floats freely.

"I imagine you've got a lot of questions," she says.

"Understatement," I reply.

"So: How about I show you the fresher and the galley and then we can talk over some dinner and drinks. We've got a lot to celebrate!"

"How about you show me the fresher and start talking while I fresh? I'm in a listening mood. Postcoital and all."

"Okay," she grins, casting an unselfconscious glance at my groin. Fuck! I've still got a pretty good semi going. Must be the adrenaline. Yeah. That's it. It's absolutely not the faintly floral musk of the Bethnian into whose mouth I recently ejaculated a monumental orgasm. Definitely.

My cock twitches at the flash memory of her mouth on me. Pipe down, you! Rebellious fucking dick!

I pull the fresher and clothing pack out of locker F1 and she launches for the corridor to the cockpit. I follow. She leads me past two eight-meter modules on either side, two more, longer modules lie forward, separated by two deep alcoves lined with lockers on either side.

"Freshers are there," she points portside, "gym's over there," she points to the opposite alcove, "and the galley's topside," she finishes, pointing to a hatch in the overhead.

She follows me as I glide towards the freshers. Three of them! No, I see now; only two, but the one on the left is a real no-shit water cabinet that looks big enough for two - three if they're well-acquainted.

I pull the fresher pack from the bundle and pass my ship singlet and socks to Y'Jaan to hold for me.

"Okay, start talking," I say as I pull out the mouth washer and slide my teeth into the mouth guard-shaped unit. I step into the fresher with the rest of the f-pack and slide the clear door closed.

"Well, first: Welcome to the Resistance, Commander Dick!"

It's Deck, I want to automatically correct her as her Bethnian accent predictably mangles my family name.

Wait! What!?

"Resistance!," I sputter, but through the mouthwasher it just comes out Nneeenni'ann?!

"Artemis Squadron of Rolan's Rangers, to be exact. We're currently detached to Work Group Fox."

Great. Super-special missions, with a liberal dose of overclocked intelligence types and mad science tinkerers, if the rumors were true.

"Admiral Sakhoff... Annalise passed you a data dot. That was one of the primary objectives of this mission; Operation Ballbreaker, by the way!" She manages to giggle and purr at the same time.

At the mention of the data dot, I stop slathering the fresher goo on my body and shoot her a look.

"We... I recovered it," she confirms with a naughty lick of her lips. Well, it's understandable that I'd have missed the pass notification, what with the sparkle bomb and her hot mouth on my cock and the torrid, ball-clenching orgasm. Good operational design, I think, distractedly.

My cock is also distracted, but not by tactical matters. I'm full on throbbing rigid again. Well. All the better to fresh, I think. I stroke fresher goo all over my hard prick and balls. Her gaze drifts to my crotch again.

"Yes," she husks, "that... mmmm! I mean you! Retrieving you was the other. Annalise was very specific about that, despite the added risks."

All coated in fresher goo from head to toe, I pinch my nose, shut my eyes, and thumb the mister on. I feel the gel thicken rapidly to a rubbery suit and feel my pores sigh as the stiffening gel pulls the dirt, oil, and detritus from my skin. I fumble at my chest and rip the stiffened gel casing open, then peel it off and step out of it, feeling hyper-clean and completely exfoliated. All ready for shipboard life.

My cock still throbs.

I look out into the corridor and see Y'Jaan clutching my socks and singlet in front of her groin with one hand. She's got her toes anchored to two hold points that are far enough apart that her legs are spread. Her other forearm rustles restlessly behind the bundle of my clothes.

I wad the used fresher skin up and shove it into the oubliette. It vanishes with a soft, pneumatic fwumph. I spit out the mouth cleaner and push off to drift towards Y'Jaan. She pushes the bundle of my clothes into my chest to arrest my momentum. Her other hand is still brazenly shoved down the front of her trousers.

"You we're masturbating while watching me in the fresher." It wasn't a question.

"Maybe," she winks and pulls her hand from her crotch. Her fingers are slick with her fragrant sauces and she brazenly raises them to her lips. As I slip into my socks and singlet, she licks her creamed fingers clean with her amazingly long, supple tongue. It's bright red and smooth, except for two rough strips running down either lobe and tapering to a sharp tip capped with ridged rings.

I want it in my mouth! And other places, I think as I wrestle my erection and testicles into the built-in soft mesh retainer in my shipsuit.

"And it's Deck, by the way, not Dick."

"Yes, of course: Commander Deck. Did I say Dick?" She giggles and darts a glance at the outline of my cock still showing underneath my suit.

"You did."

"My mistake." She grins at me mischievously.

"And I haven't been a commander in half a groat's age now."

"Mmm hmmm. Well. Let's see about that, shall we?" She turns and pushes off with just a flick of a glance at my right breast. I look down and see my name stenciled in majescule across the right top pocket, underneath the six-point starburst of a senior pilot commander.

I push off and follow her as she pushes off the deck for the galley hatch. Fuck. What have you gotten me into now, Annalise!?!

I watch from below as Y'Jaan cleares the hatch, then I use the leverage of a handhold to crouch and spring for the hatch.

I misjudge.

It's been a long time since I've been in zero-a. Instead of catching the hatch coaming neatly and pushing up into the galley, I shoot by too fast and bang my knuckles on it instead. I still manage to stick the landing by whipping both arms up and gripping two padded handholds on the ceiling to arrest my delta-v and push gently back down to the floor where I hook a toehold neatly with my thonged ship sock. Y'Jaan is facing away from me so thank charity nobody had...

"Slow down there, rocket," she chides.

How had she... then I see her smirk in the mirrored backsplash of the food prep area. I grin back at her sheepishly.

"If you want to freshen up on zero-a maneuvers, I'd be happy to work with you in the cargo hold when the briefing's over," she turns and smiles at me.

Briefing? Frell! I freaking hate briefings. Only things worse than briefings are meetings and full-circumference hemorrhoids.

"Swell," I say, putting the offer (but unfortunately not the briefing) on hold.

She hands me a warm zero-a food pack and a bulb of... is that Barran kava?! I take a pull from the nipple and it flows down my throat hot and creamy and fragrantly nutty; stimulating in aroma and in the complex chemistry of rare xenoxanthine alkaloids. Somebody's been reading my diary, I think.

"If there's to be a briefing, I'm going to need another one of these," I say. A small ping sounds and she reaches behind her to produce another bulb. I park my working cup in the air and take the fresh bulb from her, slipping it in my pocket.

"Briefing's in the wardroom," Y'Jaan says casually, as if it's not the last place I want to be. "You can bring your chow. Captain doesn't hold to formalities on mission."

I sigh and reclaim my working bulb of kava. I shove my food pack in my other pocket and toe off to follow her through the forward hatch.

Holy excrement! I've seen smaller wardrooms on drop frigates! The central table is a nearly four meters-long oval of polished Jojimba wood. Sentients - all female, I notice right away - are strapped to five of the ten chairs surrounding it. A sixth floats off to the side of the main briefing display bank. Twelve back-bencher seats flank the door in two rows on either side.

Captain Kimma is seated at the head of the table, nearest us. To her left are another Terran... no, I correct myself, noting the praetorian nose and cheekbones, the jet black hair, and the kraala-leather flight suit; a Zebatian, for sure. Next to her sits a snowy-skinned Kenthian with a massive coif of gold hair framing her fore-peak. On the Captain's left sit a bald, mottled-blue Dallop and beside her an amber-skinned Worlder with an onyx ridge cresting her smooth, oblate skull.

It's the Taucetian at the front of the room that catches my attention. I've had plenty of dealings with her kind, mostly very salutary. She's the only one not in a ship or flight suit, excepting Y'Jaan who has yet to change out of her mission clothes. Instead, she wears the frilly pearlescent breech-wrap and - call it a sports bra, with three cups - favored by her people. Her space-black skin shines with health. She's stunning. And the two navels really do it for me; one a wide, deep innie and the other a tight vertical slit a couple centimeters above it.

"Welcome, Commander Deck," the Captain intones, pivoting in her chair to face us. Me. Me and Y'Jaan. Her gaze measures me up and down. "Good to see you've had a chance to freshen up after the shindig dirtside. Is that a food pack in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?"

The room dissolves in soft noises of humor as I look down. Between the pocket full of food pack and the one with my second bulb of kava, my cock bulges like a huge pill in a blister pack despite being rigged into the suit's retaining mesh.

"Well, it's been a rather exciting day, Captain," I admit, giving her her proper shipboard form of address.

More interspecies chuckling follows.

"You need no introduction here, Commander; we're all huge fans! May I introduce to you, though: Lieutenant Zhuong, our civil affairs officer..." Read: PSYOPS, covert intel, and probably Psi, too, I think as the Kenthian nods at me.

"First Officer Syung, our chief operations analyst..." The comely Zebatian bobs martially in her seat.

"Sub-Lieutanant Zhu-Draa', our plotter..." Multivariate space-time navigator. The Dallop are quite adept at maths that would make my cock fall off.

"Chief Gunner Yssaard, our weapons master..." The amber Worlder blinks her eyelids and membranes at me respectfully.