Mars is a Dangerous Place

More lamentable still was her naked body's tendency toward casual indecency, which I normally found so endearing. Her nipples were at full attention, perked out nearly an inch and angled at their usual jaunty skyward slant. And her wide, flat labia and fleshy rose-hewed clit were unmistakable beneath her sparse honey curls. Today, I would have given anything for Sharon's lines to feature a bit more in-built modesty. But every bit of her was just laid out there for him to savor.

And savor he did. Indeed, the rapid growth of Andy's penis told how stimulating he found my wife to be; and soon enough, the full dimensions of his masculinity were plain to us both. I've heard it said that erection is the great equalizer, but I came away that day feeling more unequal than ever. His hunk of meat was truly mammoth--brightening up to a shocking crimson; arcing in a slight, graceful curve; and sticking out at attention to a distance of 10 inches or more. The thing was so extraordinary that one's eyes couldn't help but be drawn to it--and I feared that Sharon, at least, was finding it tough to look away again.

She tarried there in front of him for what felt an hour (in reality, perhaps a minute or two), still keeping up a mask of indifference. She even pirouetted for him once or twice, showing off all sides. Finally, she raised her hands in a questioning gesture: "Satisfied?" And without waiting for an answer, she stalked off to her science station.

* * * * *

Once more, we suffered through hours of awkward silence. I watched Andy (warily). He watched Sharon (lecherously, and never once losing his hard-on). And Sharon did her best to work.

As I've said, she had the kind of personality that could compartmentalize. At first she appeared self-conscious; but soon she was able to set the galling circumstances aside and concentrate on her research. She reviewed lab-instrument results; she injected various strains of algae into agar dishes; she tested small vials of solution with ph-strips. The woman's focus was remarkable--perhaps it was her way of coping with the indignity she suffered.

At one point, late in the afternoon, she was laboring at her microscope, and for the thousandth time I wished she was being more discreet. Sitting in the corner with her legs crossed and arms folded over her chest, perhaps. But no--she was standing, and bent so far over the instrument that the jut of her nub and the plump, irresistible curves of her pussy-lips were plainly visible between her thighs. She wasn't trying to be provocative, or anything like that. Simply absorbed in her work.

Whether she intended it or not, however, Andy was provoked. Springing from his seat, he sidled over behind her before I could react--reaching around to grope her tits with both hands. His other-worldly cock slid in between her thighs as he did, so that the length of his shaft pressed up firmly against her slit. "Feel that, babe? Bet that loser of yours has a micro-dick hidden under those boxers. Lemme show you what it's like with a real man."

By that point I was already on them. And, better prepared than the last time we'd faced off. With my left hand, I grabbed his shoulder, jerking him away from her. In my right, I brandished a two-foot length of aluminum conduit. It wasn't as heavy as I would've liked, but still made a serviceable baton.

I was about to smash his face in with it, but Sharon laid fingers on my forearm to stop me. When she spoke, it was with compassion--casting about for a spark of conscience in the man's ravaged brain. "Andy, do you see what you've become? The way you're behaving? It's ugly, vulgar. Is this who you want to be?"

He seemed stung by her words. "I don't want to hurt you Sharon. It's just... God, it's been so long. Before the cancer, I didn't mind. I signed up for a dry spell on Mars, right? But I knew back on Earth, there'd be a line of pussy a mile long banging down my door. Now... now I'll never see Earth again. I've got no future. You're all I have."

Sharon heaved a tired sigh. "I'm sorry this shitty thing happened to you, Andy. Truly. But I just don't want you. Do you get that? I'm married. I choose Graeme."

"Sure, sure. I'm not trying to come between you, honest. All I'm asking for is a little human affection. How about a blow-job? You could do that, right? Just this once?"

I was stunned to sense hesitation in Sharon. "No," I said, "not a chance."

She ignored me. "That'd get it out of your system? Then I could put my clothes back on, and you'd keep the life-support running, and we'd all get back to normal?"

Andy nodded. "Sure. Give me a good memory to go out on, you know? That's all."

"Fuck your lying ass," I said, feeling swept away by a tide I was powerless to stop. "None of us believe this crap, do we?"

"Andy, wait here a sec." Sharon's voice was soft. "Graeme, come with me."

* * * * *

I wouldn't be surprised if Andy heard everything we said this time. We had withdrawn to our hideaway, but it wasn't the sort of conversation that lent itself to whispers.

"Graeme, calm down. Take a breath." Sharon spoke with quiet determination. "I don't like this any more than you do. But do you see what's happening here? The man's already written himself off. He's ready to die--maybe even wants to die. And somehow, he's convinced himself that he's the victim. So... if we don't do something to change the dynamic, soon, he'll be perfectly happy to take us down with him. We need a big gesture. We need to make him feel he has some control over his destiny, and that we care about him. The last thing we need is for you to go beating him up. That'll seal our death sentence for sure."

"Fuck that." I really didn't like the direction this was going.

"Spoken like a jealous male. Look, it's only a blow-job. It's not... well, it doesn't mean anything, right? Not really. And we don't have a lot of other options, as far as I can see."

"It won't end there. You know that. How can you even think of...?"

"Fuck, Graeme, I don't know." Sharon's voice quavered--suggesting tears behind her veneer of pragmatism. "Maybe he'll be in a different mood tomorrow. Maybe he'll give me the password in a fit of gratitude. Can't you just let me get it over with? So we can live to fight another day?"

My face blazed, and my ears thudded with a deafening pulse. All I wanted was to stalk out there and kill the man. But then we'd be dead too, in a day or so. I wouldn't mind dying, but... how could I go to my death knowing I'd sealed Sharon's destruction as well? That image was too bleak for me to contemplate, and I turned away from it, despondent. "Do what you want."

After she left, I slumped down on the floor and covered my ears...

My wife was gone for a very long time. When she stumbled back to me at last, she appeared wrung out--like at the end of a marathon. A sheen of sweat coated her limbs and chest, and her locks were matted. Her complexion was a mottled, blotchy red, and her lips were swollen.

She crumpled down beside me, and when I saw her up close, I nearly jerked away in revulsion. It looked like half-a-gallon of cum had been poured over her head. Thick, sticky ropes of the stuff were woven into her hair; big, opalescent splotches were slowly congealing on her face; and runny globs had blopped off her chin and tracked down across her tits.

"God Sharon, that's disgusting. Couldn't you at least clean yourself up?"

Her voice grated. "Andy says if it's still there in the morning, he'll reset the oxy system."

So--that's how it was.

She lay down in a fetal position, and beckoned me to cradle her. And there was this weird moment where I tried to make a move on her. I mean, I was repulsed by her squalor. I certainly wouldn't have kissed her on the lips. But at the same time, I found that my cock very much wanted to reclaim her. I snaked a hand around and fondled one damp breast, rolling the nipple lightly. "Do you want to...?"

She didn't turn to face me. "I'm really tired, Graeme. Can you just hold me, please?"

* * * * * * * * * *

3. Sidelined

* * * * * * * * * *

True to his word, Andy did a quick inspection of the ejaculate crusted on her skin and cemented in her tresses, and then reset the oxy system. "You can shower if you want," he offered magnanimously, and she did.

Afterwards, Sharon didn't even try to put her underwear back on; and none of us made any reference to Andy's pretense of 'just this once.' There seemed no point. She did resume her work, to whatever extent she was able to concentrate. But later that morning, the engineer ambled over and whispered something in her ear. "Graeme," she said, "I think you'd better go to our bunk for a while." She wasn't willing to look me in the eye. After a time, she came to get me; and I spent the rest of the day painfully aware that my wife was dripping with another man's sperm.

The following day it happened twice. By that point, we had it down to a little routine. Andy would approach and squeeze her upper arm lightly; she'd say "Graeme, could you..."; and I'd go cover my ears.

And if we all did exactly what Andy said, he'd make sure the air stayed breathable for a while longer.

Fuck that, right? I had to escape. So, next morning, I put on my suit and went out to 'explore.' At some level, it was a relief to be alone in the Martian wasteland, miles away from the Hab. And yet... over and over, I found my mind wandering back there--peeking in through the plexiglass windows to visualize the abuses he was visiting on my wife.

When I arrived at the base that evening, however, Sharon wasn't coated in dried semen as I'd expected. And nor did Andy decide to go for a nightcap after I returned. By bedtime, I was beginning to think he really had left her unmolested all day--even felt silly for having imagined the worst. Was it possible the man truly had 'gotten it all out of his system?'

"So," I murmured to Sharon when we had some privacy, "today he didn't... you know...?"

A hangdog look crossed her face. "Umm..."

"But... he couldn't get it done? Couldn't finish?" Hope dies hard.

"No, it wasn't that..." She glanced away, head ducking perceptibly. "He, um... he wanted me to swallow this time." Fuck, of course he did. Sharon had never been willing to swallow with me. I'd floated the idea once, and her exact response had been "gross!"

After hearing her news, I was in no mood for excuses. I pushed her down on her side, facing away from me so that my chest pressed up against her spine. Wordlessly, I reached around to work my fingers in between her legs; and she shifted her hips so that her thighs parted a bit. Greedily, insistently, I groped her pussy--rubbing her velvety pleats with a driving, rhythmic motion, while simultaneously grinding my erection against her coccyx.

Soon, I began to tease her labia apart with deft motions--circling her opening, and then thrusting a finger into her cunt. She moaned and stretched her back. And damn: she was relaxed and soaked. Probingly, I pushed two... three... four fingers into her canal, and she accommodated them easily. After the things she'd endured, and the emotional strain we'd been under, I'd feared she wouldn't be receptive. But the truth is, she was more aroused that night than any time I can remember.

There seemed no need for further foreplay, so I reached down and eased my cock into her vagina, from behind. She flexed her pelvis so that I could enter her more squarely, and worked her pussy back and forth against my groin. I started pounding hard, slamming up against her vulva, straining to plant myself as deeply as I could. And within twenty or thirty violent thrusts, I was ready to finish. Glutes clenching, chest heaving, brain burning with a harsh desire, I poured every bit of myself into her womb.

Afterwards we lay together quietly, my slowly softening organ still nestled deep in her sodden tract. Reaching back to brush my flanks lightly with her fingertips, she whimpered lightly--expressing some mixed-up hash of emotions that I could only guess at.

* * * * *

I went out again the next day. And I guess I was hoping that when I returned home. I'd find Sharon had swallowed his load again. At least then I wouldn't have to look at it.

Unfortunately, Harris' sick mind had brewed up a fresh torment for me. This time, he arranged it so that when I emerged from the airlock... there was my wife--naked and on her knees, tits perked and wobbling provocatively, servicing the engineer with a dutiful blowjob.

I could only stand there, shell-shocked, while she nuzzled Andy's ponderous ballsac, licked her tongue along his shaft, suckled his glans gently. It was an agony to witness something like that. And what's worse, the sight of her fawning over the man's penis threw the thing's improbable size into stark relief. Her fingers didn't even stretch around its girth, and the head alone was an entire mouthful for her. It was the kind of thing that if you came across it in a porn video, you'd wonder if it was real.

"Jesus," I shuddered, feeling queasy, "I don't need to see this"--and made a move to withdraw.

"We were waiting for you, man," Andy said complacently. "Now babe, what was it we wanted to tell him?"

Still gripping his cock in one graceful hand, Sharon pulled off and gazed up at me apologetically. "I'm sorry, hon. I--I didn't want this. But... he says he won't reset the system unless... u-unless you watch."

"Screw that," I said, retreating toward our sad little refuge.

She rose and grasped my arm. "No, please, Graeme, you need to stay. It's the same thing he's been doing already, right? Nothing's different. And... he has been keeping the system running, like he promised."

I vacillated, feeling an icy pang in the pit of my stomach. I wanted more than anything to flee. But what she said was true--he'd already been molesting her like this for days. It wasn't new. So... wouldn't it be just that much more pathetic and cowardly to run away and pretend it wasn't happening, leaving her to deal with the fallout alone?

With a groan of defeat, I sank down into a chair. Head bent and fingers pressed to forehead, I eyed them beneath lowering brows.

For a while it was no worse than the lurid images my brain had already invented. Drooling sloppily, bobbing her head energetically, she did her level best to pleasure him. Fingertips, lips, tongue--all of them worked together to stimulate his genitals. He caressed the side of her face with an affectionate hand; and chucked her under the chin every once in a while, directing her sparkly-blue eyes upward to meet his self-satisfied gaze.

But soon, things took a darker turn than I could have imagined. Grasping Sharon's head more firmly, Andy began working himself further inside. She dropped her arms and went limp; as if she already knew what his demands would be, and had resigned herself to meeting them. With a steady in-and-out motion, he drove himself onward--deeper... and deeper... and deeper still... until at last his gargantuan cock disappeared completely down her gullet.

Fuck: he was throating her. My wife had never taken me like that in her life. I didn't even know she could. And yet somehow, she'd accepted all of him.

He kept her there a moment--her enflamed lips flush against his groin, and her nose smashed into his pubic hair. And then... then... he started thrusting. While I watched with outraged eyes, Sharon let the man use her like she was a sex-doll. Holding her head steady, he'd pull out several inches, and then... shove himself home again with a grunt of satisfaction. Over and over. With every plunge, her neck bulged out disturbingly. Her eyes were streaming; her jaws were straining; and big, gooey blobs of spit were pouring from her nose and the corners of her mouth.

He was fucking my wife's face, plain and simple.

I'm sure it didn't go on long, but it felt like an eternity. Later, I wondered how Sharon could hold herself together in the face of such an onslaught, without retching or choking. But somehow she did; and at last he'd taken what he wanted from her. The moment when he finally pulled out--withdrawing the entirety of his thick, fleshy, scarlet-red phallus from her gaping mouth--was unbelievable and alarming, like some obscene magic trick. More and more and more of him kept appearing into view. 10 inches? 11 inches? 12? Just how deep in her esophagus had he been?

As soon as he was free, his shaft jerked, his testicles spasmed, and he commenced to hosing my wife down with his seed. One after another, he doused her with generous, elegant, iridescent arcs of semen. Freely the stuff rained down on her--over her hair, her eyelids, her cheeks, chin, tits. How he was able to store up enough sperm to soak my wife like this on a daily basis was a mystery to me. But the hard evidence of it was spewing before my eyes.

At last he was done. He tapped her on the shoulder, and she opened her eyes. Then, in what was apparently a well-established routine, Sharon parted her lips and stuck out her tongue--licking the fluids from along his length, and sucking the last drops of cum from the tip.

"There, that wasn't so bad, was it?" he said, casting a sly glance in my direction. "Now we can see about those atmospheric settings."

That night, I didn't want to talk to Sharon, and lay down facing the wall. Her voice was plaintive in my ear. "You know I didn't want that, right? I did it for us--to keep us alive."

My response sounded sullen and childish. "You never offered to take me deep like that."

This seemed to catch her off-guard, and it was a moment or two before she responded. "I mean... it's something I can do. But, it's not something I really like doing all that much... Should I--do you want me to do that for you now?"

"No, I just want to sleep."

* * * * *

Fortunately, I didn't have to endure that particular horror-show again. For a while longer, they continued getting up to whatever they were getting up to; while I spent long hours wandering the red planet alone. Just me and my morbid thoughts.

Then one day, when I entered the Hab, I found that the air was thick, and the oxygen alarm was sounding off again. "What the hell?" I demanded of Andy, who was slouched at the console in his typical pose. "After all this, you're just gonna screw us over?!"

He shot me a look that was mildly aggrieved. "Hey man, I've done exactly what I said I would. Ask your wife about it. Talk some sense into her. She's sulking in the closet."

Sure enough, I found Sharon curled up on the mattress in our berth. "He reneged on the deal, eh?" I asked with a hint of smugness. "I told you we couldn't trust him."

She rolled over and looked at me. "More like he renegotiated the terms--unilaterally. He says oral sex isn't enough anymore. He won't reset the system unless I have intercourse with him."

"And, you...? What did you...?" I asked, feeling a stab of apprehension in my chest.

"I decided it was time to call his bluff. See if he'd really let us all suffocate. So... here we are."

I sat down beside her, feeling more peace than I had in a long while. "Good. That's it then. Either he backs down or we die. I'm ok with that. One way or another, we're done with him."

Sharon cocked an eyebrow at me. "Um--I, for one, don't have a death wish. All that between him and me happened yesterday. And today the alarm's been going off non-stop. My head's pounding, and my brain's already getting fuzzy. I'm starting to believe he'll go through with it."

"Let him," I said, still feeling zen. "We knew this was a dangerous mission. At least then we'll go out with some dignity."

She looked disgusted with me. "You call this dignity? Honestly, it'd be pretty damn stupid for either of us to die on account of his sick libido and your possessiveness. And nor do I intend for that to happen. At some point, I'll have to do what he wants."