The Man in the Moon

"You have the duty?" McCorkle asked?

"I'm afraid so," Brian answered. "The official greeter."

"So what'd you do last night?" McCorkle baited him.

"Worked out." Brian recalled his two hours in the gym.

"I had a workout of my own," McCorkle gloated. "Lieutenant Traffensteadt from communications. Damn, she was hot."

Brian tried to recall the week he had last had sex. Five months ago, if you didn't count his hand. Adrienne. She was in communications as well. They were first together three weeks after he arrived and then many times during his first three months. For some reason, she got pissed. He never understood it. She broke it off. For a while he thought the spark might still be there, that whatever had pissed her off would fade, but it didn't and now she was gone, back to earth a month ago.

Brian gazed at the docking station through the large, three by four window. That was large by Habitat standards anyway; windows on the International Lunar Habitat were usually portholes or more often small rectangles no wider than a person's eyes.

The space transportation vehicle or STV came into view. It moved from left to right across the window, approaching the docking station in the customary "sideways" fashion.

"She about screwed my brains out," McCorkle boasted. "You here to escort a greenhorn? Who's the lucky turd?"

"A doctor might not appreciate being called a turd. Dr. Allison Sparks."

"And who comes here that isn't a doctor?"

"This one's different."

"How so?"

"She has a Phd.," Brian answered, as if all of them didn't. "In contemporary art," he added.

"Art! Art on the moon!"

"That's what they tell me," Brian remarked.

"An art consultant on the moon," McCorkle laughed. "Only those dick-heads in Florida could dream that up."

The STV was locked into the station. Passengers were probably already filing off. Ahead of them was the corridor from the docking station to where Brian stood. From his vantage point, it was just a long enclosed walkway, resembling an elongated white railroad car.

"They're in decomp," McCorkle told him, referring the the room between them and the corridor, the area where the abbreviated space suits required for travel were shed.

Suddenly, a green light above the hatch to McCorkle's right lit up. The sergeant spun the wheel in the door's center and swung it open. Brian estimated there were fifteen people waiting to come through the hatch.

He recognized most of the faces--people who had been on leave. If anyone else was new, he didn't care; he simply had to find the bitch they'd sent him to fetch.

"Dr. Sparks?" he called across everyone's head.

"Here." He heard a voice. Then she stepped into view from behind the left edge of the hatch. Maybe this duty isn't so bad after all, Brian thought. She had stunning blue eyes that sought him out through the heads that bobbed back and forth. She raised a hand and finally made her way to where he stood, after most of the passengers had moved deeper into the ILH.

"Hello, I'm Brian."

"I'm Dr. Allison Sparks." She extended a hand and they shook. Brian studied her face. When he didn't speak, she blew out a sigh and said, "Well, it's good to be here."

"This your first trip to the moon."

"As a matter of fact, it is. I went on one of the tourist flights into earth orbit while I was in high school, but this is actually my first trip into space. Kind of late, I suppose."

"It's exciting at first," Brian suggested, "but after a while, it's kind of--well, isolated."

"The excitement hasn't worn off yet for me and maybe it won't. Sometimes we make our own excitement, Mr.--"

"Head. Brian Head. It's my job to show you the International Lunar Habitat and your new quarters. It's a two day stint, so don't feel that you have to learn everything in an hour. Shall we." Brian made a sweeping gesture with his hand.

She walked in front of him toward the center of the Habitat. The jump suit wrapped her ass a little too tightly for Brian's comfort. His almost forgotten crotch came to life. To calm himself, he started chattering about the ILH, hoping his momentary excitement wouldn't become to obvious in the stretchy jump suit he, himself, wore.

The four docking stations and their corridors made an "X" on top of the Habitat, he informed her. "We have four stations at the tips of the X," he went on, "but traffic is usually only twice per week. Supplies, bring new personnel and take others off."

"How long have you been here?" she asked him.

"Eight months. I get a two-month leave at twelve. Something I'm looking forward to." They stepped into the elevator. He leaned against one wall; she stood opposite him in front of the other. He tried not to be too obvious but his glances took in the length of her body.

"Damn!" she exclaimed. "Excuse me--that just feels so weird."

"It's the gravity. It's not as much as earth but you've been weightless for three days. Be careful of when it stops. We'll skip these first two floors--communications. We'll get off on the lounge floor. Then we'll look at the mess deck and I'll so you your quarters."

"Eventually, I have to see everything. It's my job to bring humanity to all of the Habitat. That's what I've come for."

"That's why we all come--isn't it? Humanity."

"Oh," she cried and then laughed, as the elevator came to a stop. Brian reached and took her arm in case she fell.

"This is the lounge deck. Let me show you what's here." He pointed out the movies shown after work and earth-based television next door on a similar screen, the game room, the library, and the gym. All of it small but all there.

"Let's take a break here," Brian suggested, indicating a grouping of six seats surrounding a small table. An automatic juice/coffee bar stood at one end of the grouping.

"Will that thing make a chai latte?" Allison asked.

"One chai latte coming up! If it won't make it, you'll get a prize for being the first to stump it. In seconds he took two drinks from the dispenser and passed one to her.

"Ummm, that's perfect," she said. "And what is that you're having?"

"Citrus chamomile tea," he answered. "It's delicious, but I only drink it for the health benefits."

"And what are those?"

"Well, I'm not sure but I'm afraid to stop; it could be the last thread my life is hanging by."

She laughed. "Things can't be as bad as all that." She still smiled at him. "What do you do?"

"I'm a propulsion tech, but since we never move, I'm a general flunkie unless I'm doing maintenance or one of the STVs is having problems. So you're bringing art to the moon?"

"Maybe. They want me to investigate the possibility."

"So we'll be getting some of the Riordan Holograms?"

"Actually, my taste runs more to the twentieth century or even further back: Friedrich, Renoir, Matisse."

"I'm afraid I don't know those."

"Maybe I'll have to educate you," she replied. "I'm a bit tired from the travel; I think I'd like to find my quarters. I want to rest before tomorrow."

"You'll be ready for the main tour, then. I'll walk through each floor."

"Instead, do you think we could take a rover and tour the surface. I want to get a sense of what it's really like to be on the moon."

"Sure, we can do that. Have a good night."

***

He couldn't take his thoughts off her body. He walked back to his cubicle in a daze, hardly aware of his actions, his movements blurred by the image of her that filled his brain. His roommate, Jerry Haslett, was on duty in communications.

He brushed his teeth and stepped into the shower. The ceiling in the room was only seven feet. To make room for the plumbing the shower was reduced to an inch or two under six feet. So it was a seated shower; you couldn't stand and be under the water outlet.

The seat was molded with the wall on the left side of the enclosure. The warm water flowed over him. He began soaping himself. It was possible that she was at that moment doing the very same thing. The shame was that his hands weren't roaming her body and that hers weren't lathering his. His cock had taken it's own life with thoughts of her.

He turned the water down to a fine warm mist. Taking liquid soap from the dispenser, he rubbed his pubic hair and continued up his shaft. His dick leaped out, longer and harder. He took more of the soap. It was silky and slick, enough to make him think of her.

He knew that on the moon, gravity wouldn't force blood to his feet, at least not like on earth. It would be easier, however minutely, for his heart to pump that blood to his mid-section. Consequently, his dick would be a bit longer, a bit fatter. He also knew that her walls would be puffier, more engorged; she would be fuller, tighter, maybe hotter.

His hips shifted uneasily beneath his quicker strokes. His cock was taunt now, the head tight and purple almost, the turgid shaft ringed with filled veins. He went fast and hard. A stifled gasp escaped his lips and he threw his head back. Moon gravity being one-sixth that of earth, the hot white stream shot to the ceiling of the shower. Only the warm mist of water kept it from sticking. The second pulse rose only about two feet. He sighed as the remainder oozed down across his knuckles.

***

"I hope you slept well," Allison greeted him the next morning. "I'm expecting the deluxe wide-awake version of the tour."

Brian made a comment about "only the best" and held her hand high as she stepped into the rover. He pulled the loops forward while she slipped her arms through them. His fingers brushed the chest material of her jump suit as he closed the harness. Once they were both fastened in and the cockpit sealed, Brian eased the rover into the staging area, an air exchange room. In front of them a second door opened, and the bright gray surface of the moon lay before them.

And they were off. Brian's hand came within millimeters of Allison's thigh as he shifted the gears and controls. The silence was awkward as he tried to think of anything but her leg.

They cruised across plains littered with rocks of varying sizes. Brian drove through dips, undulations, over hills and various formations. Finally, they stared into a crater.

"Oh, stop!" she cried.

Brian braked and they sat on the rim of Copernicus, looking across it's vast floor.

"Isn't that beautiful!"

"Yes, it is," Brian replied.

Allison turned and saw that he was looking at her. "The crater, silly." She looked back across the floor filled with stones and edges that caught the sunlight. "It reminds me of when we used to go to the mountains from Los Angeles and sit on the shore of Big Bear Lake. It shimmered like this, the water shimmered in the --well, moonlight." She laughed.

"We?"

"My--oh, you thought I meant it was romantic. No, it was just a girlfriend and I. Nothing romantic, except maybe in our hot little brains." She laughed again.

"All that would come later."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Just that someone as pretty as you must have had plenty of suitors."

"Suitors? I thought I was the one lost in the twentieth century." The laugh came again.

"You know what I mean. You're beautiful; doesn't that always attract guys?"

"Maybe, but not always the right kind. Most of them are looking for a one-stand and then 'so long'."

"I can't imagine," Brian said.

"Can't imagine what?"

"That someone would make love to you and want to leave the next morning."

He looked at her and she returned his gaze. Brian wanted to know what she was thinking, wanted her to speak, to tell him it was okay. She didn't but it didn't matter; he couldn't resist. He leaned across the armrest and placed his lips on hers. She didn't move: didn't pull away, didn't come forward, didn't move her lips against his. His lips gently pushed, moved, pulled at hers. Moisture slipped from his until both theirs were wet.

She started to kiss back. Her lips moved against his, caressing, undulating motions. His right hand held her upper arm: his left went to her waist to pull her close. When she rose up to kiss him, he felt the top of her ass. Instinctively, his palm moved down to cup her cheek. Desire pushed him. He reached for her zipper and pulled it down the entire front of her jumpsuit; his hand slipped inside. Brian shuddered as he touched her skin. His hand jumped, shook. Her skin drew his fingertips. He couldn't NOT touch it.

He opened his eyes. She wore a black bra and panties. Only people just in from earth had her fresh tan. He reached across her for the seat leaver. He pushed and the seat slid much further back than any earth car. In one motion he slipped the suit over her shoulders and stripped it off her body. Her breathing was heavy and her eyes half closed. He put both hands behind her, unclasp her bra and flung it away. Her breasts weren't large but nicely shaped and her nipples were gorgeous: the size of quarters and a dusky rose in color. He knew--KNEW!--that he would never see a more beautiful sight. His tongue teased each nipple out longer and longer.

She reached for his cock. Despite having lost a heavy load last night in worship of her, it was rock hard. Her hand closed around it through his jump suit. He reached for his zipper. Her hands were there first and pulled it down. Half of his dick was exposed above the opening. After shrugging the shoulders off, he shed the whole thing. He had scarcely freed himself before she was on him. She leaned forward and licked his balls, licked the bottom of his shaft, wiggled her tongue where the skin attached to his swollen head. The head disappeared in her mouth, then half the shaft. That it could get harder didn't seem possible, yet it swelled as sucked and ran her mouth up and down the upper half of his dick.

Unable to take more her jerked her head up. She back against the seat, gasping for breath. Brian stripped her panties off and scrambled across the console. He sat on his butt in front of her seat. Her pussy was only inches from his face. The edges were shaved. Her hair was thick and brown. A narrow strip of it remained on the lips. It went two inches above her clit. The top the strip was trimmed as well, straight across like a sideburn. The edges were shaved but she had made it shorter over-all as well. He kissed her thigh. With his thumb he rolled the left lip and looked. Just looking was good, but still he moved forward and ran the curled tip of his tongue up the inside of that lip. He did the other and then spread them to reveal her door. Brian held the lips apart and ran his tongue around the rim of it. After another look, he pushed his tongue through the door and into her sweet tunnel. Straining to get his tongue out further, he pushed into her, straining each time to get deeper. Faint whimpers came from her lips.

Rising to his knees, he used his right hand to rub the head of his cock between her lips. He placed the opening of his dick right against her clit and rubbed. Rising a bit more, he slid it up in her. "Uhhnn," she cried and raised her legs. He pushed deeper. Layers of her slipped past his shaft.

It was like nothing he had ever felt. She was dripping wet. The heat was unbelievable, like an oven. Pre-cum ran down his shaft and he could feel it settle between his balls, close to dripping to the floor.

"Fuck!" she said.

He pumped harder, deeper. He rose with each stroke, rubbing against her clit and driving his cock deeper.

"Uhhnnnn." As she moaned, her pussy clamped down on him. He drove through the tightness. His hands went to her waist. He pulled at her, through his back against the dash, and shot hot cum into her, as deep as he could, squirted to somewhere near her soul.

***

What is it about fucking that you can't burn it into your mind? Is it nature for the memory to leave so that you have to experience it again? Sure he knew it was the best he had ever had; he knew it was glorious. He would always fondly remember them together, but he couldn't recall the feeling, not how good it was, not the way it felt. For that reason, he always wanted, always longed to touch her, to taste her, to bury himself inside her. No matter how grand the spring, soon comes the winter.

He couldn't hold her. There were circumstances. Duty. Bullshit. All of it added up to tension, to frustration. Ultimately, she left. She went back to earth. He remained disconnected, forever lost in a fantasy, destined, even in a world full of people, to roam the night alone, trapped, like the man in the moon.