Our Place in the Sun

Notes from the author: Hi again everyone! This is another tale in my 22nd-23rd century solar system fantasy, of which I am rather fond. Technically, it is tied with The Calling of the Stars, but you do not need to have read it first. To be quite honest with you, with this story I mainly sought a valid excuse to have fun with unearthly body properties, such as are now frequently pictured in 3D futanari videos. Of course, you know me by now: corny dialog and a happy ending are a given! As always, I wish you an exciting and pleasant read! :)

1. No wedding and a funeral

"Come on, stud! Put that beauty in my ass!" Trisha Tomlinson was merrily navigating two young and excited gentlemen through the pleasant intricacies of double penetration; she was already riding with her pussy the rock-hard dick A of beau no.1, on all fours, and she was now looking up to make sure beau no.2 could properly drive his own rock-hard dick B through her anus.

"Fuuuuck! You're so tight!!!" Beau no.2 was, for all intents and purposes, talking to himself, as beau no.1 was busy grunting his own ecstasy from the moist caresses of Trisha's pussy and Trisha, for her part, was fully focused on enjoying the introductions of dick no.2 with her awaiting rectum.

"There you go!!! Bravo, guys!!! You're making me feel like a stuffed turkey!!! Come on, now... Fuck me! The BOTH OF YOU! HAAARD!!!" She braced herself and got ready for the pounding that was promised a half-hour ago.

To their credit, they gave it their all: Trisha was now assaulted by 33 cm of combined cocks and her inner walls were plowed savagely, to the sound of the appropriate grunts and war cries from her two savages. But, eventually, both of them slowed down the RPMs of their two-stroke engine, lest both of them would climax too fast and not where they wished.

"OhmyGod!!! Trish, you're amazing!!!"

"Yeaa, this is incredible! You're making me cum, baby!"

She sighed. At least, Trisha was thankful that, since the two of them were so noisy and self-absorbed, she didn't have to elaborately fake an orgasm for the benefit of their egos. "Yeaaa!!! Cum for me, studs! Here they are now, just like you asked: one dick per booby!"

Beau no.1 and no.2 pulled out their cocks and Trisha sat on the edge of her cot. Both of them stood at attention in front of her and, at her behest, each took possession of one of her prized and famed attributes, as Trisha Tomlinson, by a combination of maternal genetics and vanity, was endowed with a natural breast size that made heads turn from more than 10 meters away.

Beau no.1 had wrapped his throbbing dick with the warm, welcoming softness of her right breast and beau no.2 was massaging her left breast with one hand while slapping his dick on her engorged nipple.

"Houuu! Guys, you sure know how to handle my boobs! Come, on! Try to cum together! You can do it!"

For sole response, Trisha heard an amalgamation of "Cummiiing! OgGODDD! AAAAH!" Both of them came with force, as befitted their thrill in the moment, and Trisha was soon showered with cum on her short red hair, her freckled cheeks, her smiling crimson lips and, mostly, her humongous mammaries.

"Mmmm! That was a nice photo finish, you two! Thank youuu!" Trisha promptly got up to wash up in her barrack lavatory, leaving the two beaus to catch their breath on her cot. As soon as her grey eyes met their reflection in the mirror, she turned them away.

"Thank you Trisha... that was amazing... and I hope it was also good for you..."

"How nice of you to say that! I... it was fun!" Trisha was getting dressed now, and beau no.2 was salivating at the sight of her matter-of-factly putting on her bra.

"Say, Trish... just how big are your melons, anyway?"

Another discreet sigh. "According to my brassiere designer, the... melons... are 70Ls."

Beau no.2 had a perplexed look. This time, Trisha's sigh was anything but subtle. "That means that I have an underbust circumference of roughly 70 cm and that my bust circumference is about 49 cm longer; it also means that my bust weighs a wee bit under six kilograms and has a volume slightly over 6 000 cubic centimeters."

"Wouoooowww!"

"I'm glad you like them. Now, I'm really sorry to cut this short, fellas, but, like I said when I agreed to this tryst, I have a reentry shuttle to catch." As a point of fact, the beaus were now getting the hint that, unless they hurried, they would be let out in the main hallway while still half-dressed.

---

(Greaaat!!! What was I thinking? What the fuck am I doing!?!)

On her way to the Florida-bound boarding gate, Trisha Tomlinson's bereaved mind had led her to an unneeded waypoint; she was standing in front of the mess hall at Arthur C. Clarke Orbital Earth terminal - specifically its bar lounge - and, as fate would have it, beaus no.1 and no.2 were bragging about their frolic to the bartender, a tall, thin and beautiful woman who was dressed in a tattooed full-body fresco of Ragnarok, with her nudist license branded on one of the whitened storm clouds. To fit in with her tattoo's depiction of Thor slaying the great serpent Jormungandr, and about to die as well from his envenomed wounds, her hairstyle was short, uneven, wildly spiked and dyed blood-red. Her lips were colored in the same violent hue and her eyes were actually the palest shade of blue to be seen on her body.

Trisha was chiding herself and was pissed. "Move over, guys... if you had bothered to look below the tits on her chest and her Valkyries, you would have noticed that she's packing as much dick as you two put together. You should quit while you're ahead... and I need a moment alone with Venus before I go."

The beaus were both cut to the quick but, before they could usher a proper response, the bartender stepped in. "You heard the lady! Scoot!!! Come back in 15 minutes... your next round is on me and you will have my undivided attention."

"Yeaaa... whatever... bye, Venus..." both men walked away dejectedly.

"Hey Trish! I know you've been in human company longer than you usually tolerate but... huh... wasn't that a bit harsh?" The bartender prepared Trisha's usual double - a tall glass of carbonated water with ice and two orange slices - without being asked.

"Why do you care? Besides, I was only stating a verified point of fact." She drank, watching at nothing else than her glass.

"Ouch! So you were the one? What on Earth possessed you to boink those two kids?"

"They were eager, Venus... and, as you were probably busy getting your schlong enlarged again, I had nothing better to DO!" Trisha placed her empty glass on the bar with a deliberate force that showed her irritation.

"Remind me again the fringe benefits of being your friend? I just woke up, you cow!" Venus had a knack with her: she always knew how to placate her sometime-very-sometime-not-so good friend with just enough insult to avoid spilling on mean.

Trisha winced in regret. Everybody, in the off-Earth population, knows about the insane schedule and working conditions that the Interplanetary Space Agency service personnel have to endure. It was often told, in jest, that the Powers that Be planned them as such to pursue the infamous tradition set on the late 20th century cruise ships. In any case, few complete a single two-year tour of duty, but Venus had been serving in Arthur C. Clarke since she was 17 and was well on her way to finishing her third.

"Yeaaa, I figured. I'm sorry about being a bit more than my usual bitch, Venus; I was just coming to say goodbye... I'm due to board." Trisha sighed in despair and rose from her stool.

"You're already heading back to your tether station?"

"Do you actually only gawk at my boobs, when I come over to talk and try to get drunk on your swill? I told you yesterday: I'm dropping in Florida for a funeral!!!"

"You already know it's all I do." In fact, Venus was doing it at that very moment. "And why do you splurge on a space trip anyway? Send your condolences by vid!"

"Nope. This one is up-close and personal... and it's on ISA's tab."

For the first time in a great many conversations between them, Venus was caught off-guard. "Fuck meee! Who's getting the big send-off?"

"My uncle Christopher... my great-uncle, actually."

"Chris... THE Christopher Tomlinson!?! You're related to..."

Trisha sneered sardonically. "You know, Venus... when you do have your few and far between moments of sublime clarity, you really should cue in the initial fanfare of Also sprach Zarathustra... you know, for better audience impact. Uncle Chris was my godfather, you moron... and I needed you. Now, I gotta go... we'll talk when I return." Trisha left the bar and Venus was stunned shut.

---

"And now, for our final contribution to this great and beloved man's eulogy, his niece Clara wishes to share a few words."

Trisha whispered to the tall and very elegant young woman sitting on her left. "Mom... that's your cue."

Clara Tomlinson rose from her pew, all dressed in black and with her usually impeccable facial makeup now marred by tear tracks. In fact, looking at the several rows of relatives assembled in the St-Thomas Aquinas Church of Saint-Cloud, Florida, one would feel that, for the entire 18 days of hiatus between Christopher Tomlinson's passing and this memorial service, nobody had yet stopped crying.

As Clara walked to the altar, she took a moment to caress the shoulder of her aunt Katsumi, who was mourning in an immaculate white silk kimono, contrasting starkly with the rest of the attendance and a living reminder that, even in 2245 AD, there remained cultural and religious differences regarding death, love and other social mores.

Once at the altar, she kneeled in front of her uncle's urn and then spoke with an uncharacteristic self-effacement.

"Hello everyone... thank you all for being here... and for the many touching testimonies and tributes about uncle Chris... I even learned a few things today..." she laughed weakly while sniffing a sob. "My uncle had the long life that most of us now expect... he had a good life, he had a great life but, more importantly to him, I think, he lived a life he loved living. Today, we have heard stories about his youth staring at stars on a boat; some about his unique streak of service in space with aunt Katsumi, whose personal records all stand, by the way; some about his service as a teacher and author; others about his service as a statesman; even tales about his Nobel Peace Prize. In fact, while preparing my little speech, I discovered that uncle Chris was the subject of so many articles and publications, he could almost be put on par with Winston Churchill!"

Clara paused, as if to highlight how unlikely this fact was and anathema it was to the memory of her cherished uncle. "What could one add to all this? Well... if I may, I would like to thank my uncle, and for many things. First of all, for his generosity that allowed my very being... as ties go, that one binds pretty tight..." another guffaw, another sob. "Also, in our world where unions and families now take on so many different forms and durations, for remaining a steadfast and loving husband to aunt Kat for more than 55 years... I mean, who does that, these days? And all the while, to me he was an uncle, a godfather, a friend; in fact, I want to thank Christopher Tomlinson for being a father to me, and a damned good one! He..."

By the time Clara Tomlinson was done, there was not a dry eye in the church where sat relatives, friends, ISA officers of all ranks and public figures. In the middle of all this pomp, Trisha was lost and adrift in her own private ocean of grief.

---

Trisha was turning more claustrophobic by the second, inside Katsumi and Christopher Tomlinson's St-Cloud residence. As a spacecrew, she was obviously used to living in minuscule quarters, but no procedure trains you for a family gathering in such a small area. To pass the time, distract her panicking brain and give her beloved great-aunt a chance to sit down and not strain herself with chores, she played hostess. Thankfully, by now the guests were now all in the process of leaving.

"It was nice of you to bring along your grandchildren, Patrick. Are you sure you want to take the road back to Thomasville tonight?"

"Yes mom... I'm sure you can guess what life is like on a farm in July. Mika sends her love and wishes, of course. But I don't want to leave her overseeing the harvests alone." Trisha could see that Patrick Tomlinson was just as uncomfortable as she was, in the house that he grew up in fifty years ago, but in his embrace there was no mistaking the love of his adoptive mother. "You know there's a room for you anytime, for as long as you like, if you come by."

"Of course. And I just might do that, son... be good, take care of your family and send Mika my thanks. Drive carefully."

Next, and last, to leave was Clara.

"Thank you so much for your kind words, Clara... you know Chris would have hated every single one of them..." Katsumi laughed with the timid sarcasm that all her friends knew well, while hugging the niece that she saw come into the world and grow up.

"He sure would have!" Both hugged in desperation for the longest time.

"Are you returning to your home and office right away?"

"No, aunt Kat. I closed up shop for the week and I have no court date. Eva, Vanessa and I have rented your usual suite at the Lakeside Inn. I figure we're going to cry some more and fish a little, you know... a sisters' thing. Probably reminisce about mom, too." As an afterthought, she added "...how quickly time passes."

"What a lovely idea... you have fun on Alligator Lake, and take care of your sisters... nobody's getting any younger."

"I will. Come here, Trisha... it was good to see you." Clara opened her arms and awaited her daughter's hug, which looked like two BFFs wishing themselves good night. "Thank you for staying with her tonight... I'm really proud of you, munchkin. And you know I always love your vids." After two noisy smooches on Trisha's cheeks, Clara left and closed the door behind her.

Trisha let out a huge sigh of relief. "Well... it's just the two of us, aunt Kat. Do you want or need anything? I'm just going to get this shindig cleaned up, so you can rest now if you're tired."

"No thank you, Trisha... you have done more than enough already. You know, I'm only 93... I'm not an invalid yet." Again, that timid sarcasm. In fact, while chatting with her great-aunt, Trisha was managing the various cleaning machines and bots.

"Nonsense, aunt Kat! If I took you touring the space stations with me, you would still need to chase all the boys away with a stick!"

"You're funny... you know, I didn't chase them away, in my day..." Katsumi blushed at the confidence.

"I heard; we talked about that a lot, uncle Chris and I... your family life, too, of course; not just your meet-cute and your courtship." Trisha smiled shyly and sat down beside her famous godmother.

"I'm not surprised. Of all his goddaughters and many relatives, you were always the jewel in his eye, Trisha... and he was always worried about you."

"Really? Why?"

"Chris had many facets, like all of us, I guess... and he always took care to appreciate in everybody whatever facet of himself he saw in them. Take Patrick, for instance, who obviously got his bug for growing things. Well, in your case, Chris always knew, even when you were in diapers I think, that you would catch his calling of the stars. You are the one whose soul is the most in his image... I think that is why he was worried for you."

"I don't follow you..."

"Chris was a romantic... and lonely. Space is not the place to find love and happiness. Yet he kept searching, and hoping. But whereas he had the love of his sister and his parents as a source to tap for his optimism, you, on the other hand, grew up angrier; don't take this wrong, please, Trisha... you know I love you more than life. Chris always feared you would end up a lonely space misanthrope... and your insistence on tether operation tours really seems to prove him right."

Trisha was glad to have Katsumi to herself, just as she had always been glad when out fishing with her great-uncle: in her godparents, Trisha Tomlinson always found a model for life and a source of wisdom, but also a transparent intimacy that had an absolute-zero level of bullshit or artifice, to which she was figuratively allergic.

"What else could he expect, aunt Kat? I mean... I'm almost 23 years old and I look older than my mom of 62! And not only does she live in her permanent orgy club but, thanks to her addiction to cosmetic rejuvenation, I look like a cow!" She was trying to crush her breasts, a task for which her hands were ridiculously undersized. "Do you know I've almost had to have them shrunk, for me to pass zero-g training! And EVE-RY-BODY in ISA thinks that I'm a space station whore if I'm not in uniform!"

"Now, Now, Trisha..." that was always all it took for Katsumi to signal her disapproval; Trisha cut off her litany on the spot. "I know firsthand what it is to be young, angry and know-it-all. What you are saying is all true... it is also only one facet of the story. What I saw in your mother, a quarter of a century ago, was someone desperate not to lose her birthright that put her practice on hold, took the best arrangement she could to ensure present parents for her child - something she valued above all else for obvious reasons - and left no stone unturned to avoid a miscarriage during what turned out to be a very difficult pregnancy. To this day, I do not know if she is happy in her multiple civil union..."

"Multiple, you say? Try four women, three men and seven kids for size! I can never remember all the names!"

Katsumi continued as if she had not been interrupted. "...but it is the life that she chose, a life which has provided very well for you, whether in material or emotional support."

"Yeaaa, I know, I know... you always bring me back to order on this gripe of mine. But... but, how did YOU do it, aunt Kat? I mean, you know that you and uncle Chris have always been my idols, right?"

"Yes, Chris and I always knew... just as we were to your mother; why else would one ask her godparents to also be godparents to her baby girl?" That spin on one of her many bones of contention with her family actually seemed to directly hit Trisha at point-blank range.

"I suppose you're right... I never saw it that way." There was a short pause while Trisha got up and put away the washed dishes. "Aunt Kat, I can see you're tired but, before you go to bed, can I ask you two personal questions?"

"Of course you can."

"Did you ever meet grandpa?"

"Once, in passing, at the christening of your aunt Vanessa. Chris could have talked to you about him quite a bit, but there was a huge falling out between them when he left your grandmother Phoebe. I don't recall him ever mentioning his name after that."

"Oh... I see. Aunt Kat... how did you know? How did uncle Chris know? That you were... made for each other. How was... your life... your couple... gosh, I'm so embarrassed!"

"Now THAT is a subject your uncle would have loved to talk about." Katsumi had a warm, benevolent smile which, combined with her graceful passage into old age, gave her a serene air of unfathomable wisdom. "How can I sum up a whole life of shared times, good and bad? To begin with, Chris wanted to be my friend and partner from the start, even if it meant burying his huge crush on me... and he was. He accepted who I was - probably more than I did back then - and, when he felt that his friendship bloomed into something more, he took a leap of faith; you know he asked me to be his Valentine here, under the moonlight. I could have laughed, I could have refused, I could have even ruined his career but... Cupid struck instead. The rest, Trisha, is all about understanding the value of complicity. We live long lives, a reality institutions still have difficulty catching up with, but trust me on this: when Chris and I were involved in a couple's spat on the Lion's bridge or in this cubicle-like home, there was little room for easy avoidance. And every time Chris apologized, whether it was his fault or not to begin with, he always summed up a tough argument by saying that sometimes, there is just no point in giving up... which was usually followed by me setting his colon on fire..."