Travels of the Mind Pt. 09

Sudden quiet. She was floating, but no longer in the inky blackness of space, no longer heading out towards Saturn. She was inside a spaceship in a white space suit and weightless; floating with arms outstretched. She touched the wall and pushed gently off to float across the cabin to the other wall, only to bounce off and return. She grabbed at a ladder to stop herself just repeating her bounces. It was interesting. And now she was safe from rockets or any other penile shaped objects coming at her, enclosed as she was in her space suit. A relief, her sex was so tingling and feeling so used. The thought in her mind, even so, of what weightless sex would be like. But not in spacesuits! Rather naked or scantily clad bodies floating together, perhaps if unwisely not holding on to each other suddenly coming apart, penis coming out of vagina or mouth as the participants simply floated apart and away from the other. And what about keeping bodily fluids in check? A handjob would be rather dramatic, the spurting semen simply keeping going, travelling in a line across the cabin to hit and bounce off the wall. It would be important to ensure ejaculations were contained -- in vagina or mouth indeed! Embarrassing to have colleagues enter the cabin later and find semen floating around, perhaps still bouncing from wall to wall.

'Interesting being weightless and seemingly flying, is it not?'

Down the ladder, hand hold by hand hold, shiny boots taking a rung at a time came another figure. A colleague astronaut or cosmonaut. The figure turned to her. and it was Harris, quite clearly Harris seen through his transparent faceplate. Was this going to be sexual intercourse in weightlessness? She had long accepted Harris and her having sex - in her dreams: if they always were. It was, but not as she expected. Not a filling of the cabin with air and ensuing unclothed weightless sex.

"We need to dock."

A simple statement. A factual statement. A simple requirement. So suited to the practical, engineering, rather male world of rocketry and space travel. Harris reaching down with silver gloved hands to make adjustments to his spacesuit and hers. A flexible short concertina like hose, all silver, pulled out by a metal ring from just below where his stomach would be in his suit; the metal ring slotted into an equivalent ring on her own suit, but rather more between her legs; one ring turning to click tight against the other, clearly forming a seal, an airtight seal. Surely it was not -- but it was. An airlock between their two suits for the male generative organ to pass across from one suit and into the other -- very in. To enter and dock very physically with her. So like the docking of the Apollo spacecraft with the lunar module, or the Soyuz, and for men to pass to and fro, going from one spacecraft to the other and vis a versa. Harris and her docking would not be quite like that. It would be one way only. Harris' semen into her vagina and womb.

She was ready, of course she was ready. Her body had been ready to receive for what seemed like hours. A whirring of motors as the lock between them was opened, their life support environments now joined by a small passage between them. A passage Harris' not inconsiderable penis would need both to enter and grow along until his shiny but non-metallic knob appeared out of the tube's end within her own suit, the airlock so aligned with her own sexual entrance. In her mind's eye she could imagine the familiar penis growing along the tube, expanding and thickening, such an organic thing in the clinical whiteness and shiny machinery of his - their - spacesuits.

A touch, so very fleshy and human, so unlike the hard metal of rockets, spacecraft and robot penises; warm and soft against her, as slowly Harris pushed and entered her. No erotic caress to her body, no stimulation of erogenous zones, just penis sliding into vagina. No kissing, no fondling of boobs, no clasping of buttocks, no diddling of clitoris -- just penis in vagina. Ejaculation would have to be caused simply by friction -- and given how wet she was, there would not be a lot of that! Not just by friction but also the mind. And is the mind not the most sexual organ? Yet was Zero G sex not naked but merely mechanically connected, really that erotic?

A steady thrusting; the docked penis pushing in and then withdrawing somewhat. The standard motions of sexual intercourse; Harris' silver gloves holding her back, her white gloved hands holding his back, as they floated around the cabin. Would an observer see more than two spacesuited figures strangely together, would it be obvious coitus was underway?

She could do nothing to help. The task was upon Harris. His penis, his semen. Her role merely to receive. Surely, she could not orgasm like this, mere mechanical copulation with the sole purpose the transfer of semen, but that feeling was growing again. Her mind becoming increasingly focused on that movement, the penis thrusting inside her, in and out, in and out.

In her head another song, catchy and from another era. A time before man had landed on the Moon:

'We'd take the path to Jupiter

And maybe very soon

We'd cruise along the Milky Way

And land upon the Moon

To a wonderland of star dust

We'd zoom our way to Mars

My heart would be a fireball, a fireball

Cause you'd be my Venus of the stars.'

The feeling of orgasm growing; flashes in her head and then flashes in her vagina. It was happening again. Could she feel hot splashes of semen coming into her from the docked penis? Her orgasm going on and on as she whirled silently in space, again like a spacecraft running rings around the moon. The orgasm, the lovely feeling, for a time, and then it was over. A feeling of emptiness, of helplessness, her rocket engines failing and she falling down and down, down and down, the Earth coming closer and closer. Had the joining failed? Had the docking not achieved its object? Had the semen passed?

She awoke in bed. The quiet of the room. Gentle breathing from Benjamin beside her. Out of the un-curtained window she could see blackness of the sky and the stars twinkling. She reached and turned on the bedside light. There, upon the chest of drawers, across the room the very dildo rocket that had so docked with her and penetrated her. A fine model some twelve inches high. Upright, silver and so swollen and bulbous at its tip. Where had it come from? What would Benjamin say?