Mars Memoirs Ch. 03

The magnetic force between our lips draws them together. My hands, so eager, so starved for contact, devour her, and hers cradle my head and neck as the kiss grows hotter. When our tongues intertwine, begin to joust, I take advantage of the easy access her scrubs present, and discover that she is wearing no bra. Her breasts are small, perfect, wide-spaced on her chest and out-turned. Amazingly soft. Her nipples harden immediately to my prods and pinches, and she sighs softly into my mouth as I slide my fingers back and forth, strumming.

I'm so fixated on squeezing, massaging, and thrumming her points, that I'm momentarily mystified when Lauren breaks off our kiss and pushes me away. My bewilderment vanishes when I see her aureole, delightfully just slightly darker than the pale skin of her breast, as Lauren quickly doffs her top and is back kissing me before her it hits the floor.

The animal in me rears up, forces her onto her back, hunches over her chest, and ravenously licks, kisses and sucks her nipples. Lauren raises her hips, helping, when my fumbling, hurried hands on the waist of her pants tear them down. She kicks them off and she quickly lays back down, eager arms reaching for me.

Her practical white cotton panties are tight, and the sight of the damp crease pushing in between the lips of her sex makes my penis jump. My hands move automatically, and she opens her legs quickly when my I prod them apart. The velvety skin of her inner thighs gets more dewy the closer I get to her pussy, and once there I begin caressing her plump labia through the warm damp cotton.

Seeing her eyes - heavy, languid, suffused with arousal - lose focus as my finger traces her cleft further ignites the hunger churning inside me. She pushes her quim against my fingers, rubbing and rocking, and her shallow, rapid breathing indicate that she's in a hurry.

So am I.

As my ravenous mouth dives onto her nipple, my middle finger probes deep into her slit through the wet crotch of her panties. Her slight whimper when my hand leaves becomes a gratified moan when it returns immediately after placing hers on my cock. Lauren's fingers close on me, keeping me captive as her thumb deftly rubs the pre-cum over the head.

My fingers dive under the waist of her panties, forge through her thicket, then plunge into her wet, slick vulva. Completely lost in the fog of sexual desire permeating my brain, only Lauren and the burning need she inspires in me exist. The hard post atop the succulent areola sucked deep into my mouth, the feel of skin on skin, the wet mysterious folds of her pussy under my fingers, her excited moan when I find her clit, all run together. I'm vaguely aware of a string, know it's attached to a tampon, but don't care. I'm so hard, so erect, so driven by desire, I'm aware only of fingers. Hers on me, and mine in her hot, dripping sex.

"Oh, no!" I exclaim in horror as I suddenly feel the cum surging up my penis. As the first jet spurts out, Lauren coos excitedly, and leans forward to watch. Her hand catches my second spew, uses it for lube, and forms a tube mimicking a vagina riding up and down, polishing my tip. My body tenses and quivers, expelling fountains of semen from the reservoir stored in me for weeks. I gasp and thrust with each ejaculation, the initial violent eruptions dwindling to gushes, and finally just oozes as my cock continues to burgeon and throb with each stroke.

"My, that was fun!" Lauren exclaims after my tool has finally finished. Her smiling eyes betray satisfaction and amusement at how she made me come so suddenly and completely.

"Looks a bit like the start of a Jackson Pollock," she quips as she begins to wipe up the semen pools dotting her chest. As I regain my senses and trust my voice to function I say, "I'm so sorry, Lauren. Despite what you did while waking me up, four weeks is a very long time to go without sex, and you were way, way too sexy, too hot. I just lost control."

"It's fine, John. It was exciting, like watching Old Faithful erupt. Except nicer." Her soft giggle is winning. "And besides, it's the end of my period, so sex really wouldn't have worked anyway."

Having been involved with women for whom sex became a contest, a competition to gain the upper hand, I'm captivated and completely won over by Lauren's choice to be generous, warm, and accepting.

However, from the flush on her cheeks, neck, chest and breasts, I know that she is still very aroused. Ignoring the refractory period urges telling me it's time to relax, recoup, maybe sleep, I push her down on her back and resume kissing and embracing her, determined to finish what I'd started.

Lauren sighs when my fingers slip inside the waist of her panties. I begin by stroking her pudendum, making a V of my thumb and two fingers, and slowly massaging her labia majora from the top of her pudendum down. After they meet at her perineum, I feather up the outer edges of her lips, as lightly as possible. Only to descend again. As Lauren relaxes, succumbing to the wonderful sensations, between kisses I exhaust my vocabulary, telling her how gorgeous, how sexy, how desirable she is.

Her sweet moans, each prompted by my descending caress of her labia majora, are so soft they're hardly audible and I bask in her growing arousal. Her vestibule bulbs, which lie beneath her outer lips, connect to her clitoris, and as I keep stroking her labia, Lauren begins moving with me. Her shallow, rapid breathing is interrupted by slight gasps each time a spark ignites.

Lauren holds her breath when my middle finger finally probes into her slit, then exhales in a long soft, delectable sigh as I press in further. My finger slides up and down the inside of her outer lips, first one side then the other, sinking deeper into her cleft with each pass. Once deep in the valley I lightly knead her left labia minora, from below her vagina to the top. I avoid her clit and massage back down. Switch to her other petal, back up. Down. Over and over.

Lauren's squirming and her aroused, soft, sexy sounds signal her readiness. After stopping my circuits at the top of her vulva I begin very gently and slowly rolling of the hood of her clitoris to and fro over the shaft, then lay my finger on top, sliding along its length. Lauren arches backwards, shudders, then emits a soft, long shivering "Aaahhh," as her neck locks back, her trembling shoulders contract inward, and her legs clamp tightly on my hand.

I kiss her forehead and stop my finger lest it become too intense. When her eyes open and find mine, I tell her how amazing she is, how gorgeous and alluring. Simply irresistible. Leaving my finger inside her, I lick all around her mound, circling her slightly oval, irregular areolae, then suck its nipple to a hard thimble. Her hands coddle my head as I nurse. Her left breast, enticingly slightly smaller than her right, and a bit higher on her chest, begs for equal attention. And gets it. I'm relishing biding time, waiting until we both can come again.

When her body tells me it's ready, my fingers' motions inside her make Lauren to meld to me, undulating, wanting. Her questioningly look when I stop, softens when I again tell her how sensual she is, how alluring, and how I need to see her all. She smiles as she raises her hips to help when I grab the waist of her panties, pry the crotch loose from her sticky crease, and slide them down.

Her lips form a shy smile when she sees my eyes enlarge as they feast on her quim. I don't try to suppress my delighted sigh. I want her to hear, to know how desire surges through me when I see her pussy. My penis, now fully hard, sways as I lie back down beside her, and her eyes lock on it.

"See what you do to me?" Her smile is less shy, more sensual, and she parts her thighs eagerly, inviting my hand's return.

Though I force my finger to obey my repeated mental mantra, "Slowly, slowly," her moaning quickly becomes more insistent as her arousal quickens, kindling like a brush fire in high wind. Her long, noble face lengthens and her mouth forms a sensual O as my finger's fondling hastens the waves radiating out from her vulva, consuming her again.

I kiss her forehead gently as she comes, then watch, loving how her shivering torso curls inward as her neck arches back. Marveling at how her sensual moaned, "Uhhs" accompany the gentlest, mildest of orgasms.

I kiss her sweetly and remove my hand, put it on her rear, and roll her to me. Her head snuggles into my shoulder as my hands feather her back.

When my erection prods her belly, Lauren sighs and takes it in hand. After an initial squeeze, she gives it gentle caresses, sliding her thumb over the head. I ease onto my back to give her easier access. She rolls onto her side, resting her head on her hand and her body against mine. Watching. She makes a tube of her hand and slides the skin up and down the hard core gently, but with increasing fervor.

It's wonderful, but by the second minute I realize I'm getting too chafed and know it's not going to work. I stop her hand, kiss her, and tell her it's just too soon, and that I'm getting a little sore. I'm dismayed to see the worry that she's done something wrong in her eyes, hug her to me and kiss her to dispel her concern.

Remembering Lauren's grace when I went off prematurely, and finding myself deeply enamored of this waif-like, beautiful and gentle person, I whisper, "Lauren, you are perfect. You just have to make allowances when you hook up with an old man." Her giggle is sweet. Our mutual, growing affection deepens.

Lauren extricates herself from my arms, pushes me down on my back, and the tip of her tongue on the head of my penis feels fabulous, warm, wet, and healing. Like savoring a melting ice cream cone on a hot summer's day, she licks all around, then up and down the shaft. Nuzzling, kissing. It is beyond wonderful.

But not as fabulous as when her hot, wet lips surround the head and ease down, just past the rim. My cock jumps each time Lauren slides up or down, her lips adhering to my skin, tingling every nerve. When she increases her pace my only possible reaction is to begin jerking, moaning, and gripping the sheet with both hands. As she speeds up just a bit more, her sucking seems to vacuum the cum out of my balls. It gathers, seethes, and then begins rushing inexorably up my pole, searing every nerve as it ascends.

The cool air on my tip magnifies the intensity as she withdraws her mouth, just as she feels the first dollop of cum surge up my shaft. Wanting to watch again, Lauren covers the head with her hand and catches the first shoot, then uses it to lube her hand as she strokes me, sliding down the shaft each time she feels the fluid surging up. My ejaculatory mechanism, in her total control, obeys her commands and my cock burgeons and shoots again and again, pumping out all my semen.

Even when my system lapses into dry heaves, when I've no more semen to shoot, my penis still tries its best for her, to ejaculate each time her hand strips down its length. Only when she hears the desperation in my gasps and moans does Lauren still her hand. It moves to my balls, cuddling them as she kisses me sweetly. While her finger plays in the pools of semen painted on my chest, she whispers, "Not bad, John, at least for such an old man." Her smiling, satisfied eyes reflect the intimacy and affection, maybe more, that I know she sees in mine.

***

"He's the one," Lauren whispered when she pointed out the man in the sleep chamber. He was big. Ugly. Maybe dangerous. Three days after Nurse Clemens had first fixed what ailed the old man, she had asked if I could meet her in the hold when I dropped by for yet another of my now-daily "physicals." Though puzzled at the location - the bed in the infirmary had been working just fine - I was willing, but troubled when I saw the cloud of concern in her eyes. This assignation would not be about sex.

The man in the tube was a miner named Nolan Schmidt and had drawn Lauren's attention the previous week when he was awake. He had sought Lauren out, at first just being friendly -- the men who were active often hit on the nurses, hoping to get lucky -- but his questioning had become very specific. About the sleep chambers, and how men were awakened, brought out of their comas. When he seemed uninterested in how they were put to sleep, Lauren had been reminded of reading how the 911 hijackers had wanted lessons on how to fly jets, but not how to land them.

As it was not against regulations, Lauren had acceded and let Schmidt watch for several days -- from afar, of course, as everyone slept nude and their privacy had to be respected -- as she brought men out of hibernation. She saw him taking notes, and she made a point of remembering the four sleepers in which he took special interest.

Once she'd pointed Schmidt out, Lauren had asked the question troubling her. "John, what would happen if this man awoke the others, and they tried to take over the ship?" After she'd shown me the four Schmidt had checked out, I saw the logic behind her question. Though racially diverse, they had two things in common: imposing physiques, and distinctive tattoos on their right shoulders. The image was of a gaunt, fierce eagle, wings spread, just taking off. One claw held a cross, the other a crushed human body. Having run across it previously, I knew it wan't good.

As things went to hell on Earth when machines and computers took everyone's job, crime was the only career that wasn't affected. As had happened previously in the drug and prostitution trades, groups of thugs came together, pooled their resources, and staked out turf. Bigger gangs meant larger territories, so mergers occurred. Of the several bizarre alliances that were created, the worst came to be when the principal Eastern European mob allied itself the dominant drug smuggling group in Mexico, Central America, and the southwestern US. No one knew from where their chosen handle, CANA, derived, but the tattoo was their badge of honor, awarded only after a member had killed.

I could not imagine how the Martian Minerals screening process had missed them, but I did know what they meant: trouble. Serious trouble. Lauren's question had an obvious answer: if these five were awake at the same time, they could easily take over the ship. Only the captain had access to a weapon, and it was just a stun gun that took several seconds to recharge. If he ever even got to it during a surprise assault.

***

"Oh God, Lauren!" I gasped as the first rope of cum erupted from my cock. Into her ravenous mouth. Her tongue on my spot kept my erection swelling and shooting far longer than I would have believed possible. Especially after last night.

Lying back in my sleep tube after Lauren finished draining me yet again, I recalled all that had happened in the eventful 24 hours. First came my preparations for the worst. Though motivated by my sense of justice, of law and order, and my contract with MM, Inc., my primary concern was Lauren. Should a mutiny occur, everyone would be at risk. I now cared for her deeply. While that felt wonderful, it also created vulnerability.

Our plan was that, in the case of an insurrection - Schmidt awakening the other 4 clan members prematurely and them overpowering the captain, and taking over the ship - Lauren would awaken me. If possible. If not, she would discreetly change the mix of gas in my tube. Coming to prematurely would tell me the worst had occurred, and, though I'd be on my own, I would have some advantages.

The suppressed Glock 77 under the pillow created a lump, but gave me peace of mind. The silencer made the report just a soft "pfft," and reduced recoil so follow-up shots could be instantaneous. Against five determined proven killers, I'd need the edge that the 22 frangible bullets would give me. Engineered especially for use in places where puncturing fragile skins would have dire consequences, the slugs would return to the copper powder from which they were pressed if they hit a hard surface, like the shell or window of a spaceship. If they hit something softer, like a nasty CANAista, they'd essentially explode. Adios barátom.

The log of passengers had been altered by some unknown hacker, and I was now listed as a future farmer, not law enforcement. No-one to arouse suspicion. Certainly not someone to have their throat slit as the first precaution of a rebel upon seizing control.

I'd also visited with the captain to apprise him of the danger. It could have gone better. He proved to be a pompous fool who arrogantly assured me he could handle anything. After he forbade me to talk to any of the other crew, I'd written notes to them which Lauren would hopefully have time to deliver if things went to hell. Being alerted would give them a better chance, and they could at least warn the colony to arrange a proper reception committee for the mutineers.

Lauren had shown me how to retract the anal tube, remove the IV and catheter, and given me stimulant pills - also hidden under my pillow - to quickly clear my head. I'd have to do my best to get my atrophied muscles to function, but the Glock required little strength. Just skill, which I had in abundance. If possible, Lauren would leave a note for me, telling me the situation.

While I made my preparations, Lauren, her period finally having ended, had made hers. For romance. During my last awake period night, one of the other nurses would be on duty as usual, inspecting the tubes, changing bags, and monitoring the sleepers. Lauren had arranged for her other roommate to "visit" the pilot in his quarters. He had the only private room on the ship, and their affair predated the voyage.

Our magical night began with dinner of medium rare soy sirloin with black pepper sauce, accompanied by a rather nice, if fake, cabernet. Though in the common eating area, we sat aside and reviewed all our plans, including those for once we arrived on Mars, in hushed, intimate tones. Once in her small cubicle we danced, kissing when the notion took us, and my sweats and her scrubs found their way to the floor. Erotic dancing - a redundancy, as any dancing is at its core stylized sex - progressed to sweet long love-making. I was again enthralled and enchanted by how softly, serenely and quietly Lauren came.

In the deep of night I awoke when Lauren shifted against me. I was consumed with the gentleness of her, how she made love so tenderly, how she came so mildly. But...

I'd been rightly deemed a rascal when a boy, and never completely outgrew that mischievous streak, the yen to make things fun by doing the unexpected, the other thing, by testing limits. Watching Lauren in the dim light, so peaceful and calm, provoked that inner imp. Made him wonder if he could tease her, arouse her so intensely that she would lose her reserve in the power of an irresistible, uncontrollable orgasm. That scamp thought it would be fun to try.

Lauren didn't awaken, either when that rapscallion eased her onto her back, or when he took her first nipple into his mouth. Though I sucked as gently as possible, really just a kiss, her bud erected nonetheless. Lauren's sigh when my mouth closed on her second nipple was as content as her moan had been disappointed when I abandoned her first.

Perhaps Lauren was awake - or maybe she unconsciously spread her arms wide, arching her back, stretching like a cat - when my feathery kisses reached her belly. She definitely was when her fingers embedded in my hair as my nose meandered through her bush. I waited, made her wait, until the third time she pushed her pussy to my mouth and urged my tongue lower with her hands on my head. Her catch of breath was delightful when my lips first enfolded an outer lip, and her exhaled, "Ohhh," answered my nibbling path down its length.