Weightless Ecstasy Ch. 02

(Note to readers: This is about a dream for many of us confined to Earth's gravity: Sex in weightlessness. To follow the story, you should read the five chapters in order [you can click on my profile above, or the Stories link, to find them all; they should all be published here in early March 2021]. If your main interest is the sex, you can choose which chapter(s) to read based on who does what to whom. All of the sex is international, and in some cases interracial. This chapter's sex is by an Indonesian woman and a Scottish man, with blindfolded Dom/sub roleplay, penis-in-vagina, oral, and anal [with ass-to-mouth]. Every character is at least 18 Earth years old.

(This happens on a large scientific expedition bound for Mars, between 2050 and -60. Terms and acronyms you need to know are X-PAN Mars Lifter One [XPML1], the spaceship; Exertion and Recreation Volume [ERV], the ship's open space for sex; the International Space Exploration Commission [ISEC], which appointed the academic scientists on the ship; and X-PAN, the private company that owns the ship and employs the crew, some of whom are scientists. I hope that other terms, like sleepwrap and showersuit, are self-explanatory.)

***

The Captain of X-PAN Mars Lifter One needed very little of her skill to fly the ship. She had used her piloting ability mainly before and during launch, on the route she personally plotted to take the large vessel from Earth orbit to Mars orbit. She would do the same for the return trip. There had been a few planned course corrections so far. The rest of the time, XPML1 was an inert projectile, and much of a pilot's work was to search for hazards, and overcome them.

Most of Prabawati Guret's mindshare went to the other 26 humans on board. The ideal was that these people would focus on their scientific and technical work. If the months cooped up in the ship grated on them, they could find physical outlets in the Exertion and Recreation Volume—such as sex in zero gravity. Mostly, the ideal had been met...until her company's recent suggestion to allow people on Earth to watch sex acts in the ERV. This made Wati's shift as the ship's pilot a welcome relief.

"Mr. McTavish," she asked, "how many agree with Dr. Gudmunson's work stoppage?"

Her Executive Officer was a meter and a half away, in a station at right angles to her on all three axes. Neither tried to make eye contact.

"At least eleven," came the Scottish burr that always pleased her. "Perhaps including two X-PAN employees."

"Even that many would make a point," said the Captain. "Everything that happens on this ship is noticed on Earth. A one-day strike against data-taking and calculations would fan the fervor of those who oppose the ship's production of pornography."

With a finger gesture, Wati enlarged the field of the viewcube before her. She saw five tiny meteors, two potentially able to cause small damage to the hull. By sight, she could tell that none was on a vector for impact, but in best practice she had sensors confirm this and add the data to the records. She would not have to take action to deflect the rocks. Nor would the non-officer pilots who worked the other shifts.

"Those who oppose," she heard Ian say, "include religious fanatics."

"My parents are religious, McTavish. They aren't fanatics."

"Yes, Captain."

"And to your unasked question, I declined to adopt their religion."

"Yes, Captain."

She was always grateful that her homeland of Indonesia, while Islamic, had few fundamentalists. Most people there were like her parents, almost casual about their faith. Growing up, however, Wati yearned for a life above Earth, which led her towards agnosticism and away from cultural trappings.

Ian said, "Energy supplement being delivered."

"Thank you, Exec," replied Wati, fully at work again. The laser burst sent to the ship from Earth orbit ensured that XPML1 would have enough energy to support amenities. The ship's solar collectors and other power sources upheld all essentials. The Captain watched the ship's progress carefully to determine if the arriving energy would affect the course. There was silence while she attended to this task, and Ian monitored the delivery of the energy to battery banks.

Soon the burst ended, and the related tasks were done. "Captain," came Ian's voice, "What is your opinion of the, ah, project?"

She smiled. Soon the shift would end, and she had been trying not to think of what she and the Scotsman would do afterward. Now she became more aware of what awaited them, and even enjoyed the challenge of denying herself and staying focused.

"I think," she said, "that the sex lives of the people here are not the business of our employer, nor of people on Earth, whose pleasure is limited by gravity." Playfully she made her voice more sing-song than it usually was, knowing its effect on Ian. She was amused to hear, from his direction, fabric sliding against seat restraints.

"Would you then opt out?" he asked. "Or try to stop it completely?"

"Of course I will opt out, Ian," she said, "even if that disappoints you. But if X-PAN truly believes that the entire space program can be funded by voyeurs on Earth buying video of free-fall sex, I have no moral objection to our exhibitionists, ahem, exhibiting."

"There are some who would do that," said Ian. "Six, perhaps a few more."

"I did not ask you that," said Wati with a chuckle. "But I thank you for the information, and will not ask how you obtained it."

Ian was silent. Wati knew her subordinate would continue his task of monitoring all of the ship's key systems, until shift change, overcoming any discomfort she had caused. To herself only, she mused that not every voyeur was on Earth.

The people who arrived for the next shift knew where Wati and Ian would go next. That was also apparent to three people in the corridor as the couple reached the hatch of the ERV. Wati didn't care that they were seen. She enjoyed being the leader of these people, and enjoyed also the time when she could set leadership aside.

In the ERV, Wati sipped from a water bulb while Ian dogged the hatch and coded their time for exclusive use. "I teased you," she sing-songed. "That was very naughty of me."

He faced her sternly. "Yes it was."

That pleased her. "There and back twice?"

He nodded.

She launched herself on the long axis of the ERV, five of her body lengths from one side of the cushioned grid to the other. She waved and flexed her limbs, swiveled her neck, twisted her spine, and thus purged the stiffness from the hours spent at her station. She grabbed a grid bar, spun deftly around it, and let her feet touch the bulkhead behind the grid. A knee bend, a twist, and a push from her legs sent her back through a gap in the grid, and past Ian as he soared in her wake.

At the end of her second lap, between grid and bulkhead, she unsealed her jumpsuit and shed it, eyes on the tall, lean, redhaired man closing in on her. She was now limber and warm, air coursing deep in her lungs. She shoved her undergarment down her legs.

Ian anchored a tether from his ankle cuff to an eyelet on the outside of the grid. Wati secured her clothes in a mesh pouch against the bulkhead, and pulled herself through a gap in the grid, to the open volume.

Still clothed, Ian faced her and reached into a pocket.

Her eyes widened. She surrendered to excitement.

He pulled out the blindfold, covered her eyes with it, and sealed it at the back of her head.

She was nude save for stirrup socks, oddities she had made herself from standard-issue socks. Her ankles were covered, with a stirrup under the arch of each foot.

She never felt the cuff being attached to her ankle over the sock. She knew of its presence only when she felt her body moving. Her senses perceived nothing attached to the cuff, no cause of the motion.

Adrift, she could hear the ERV's air vents...and also breathing. She could feel the breath near her left hip, then outside her right shoulder. She trembled, savoring helplessness, her lack of control over a man she had teased.

Lips closed on her right big toe. "Uuueeeaaahhh!" leapt from her voice. Her foot spasmed, but the mouth stayed, tongue laving the toe—then the mouth was gone, and cool air tickled the moist skin.

Something made her body rotate along the spine. She was even more disoriented, hearing the breathing but unable to track it. She waved her arms, kicked her legs, touched nothing.

Seconds passed. How many? She tried to count her breaths, but lost track when she heard a grunt in front of her face, then later a moan beside her knees.

A finger and thumb pinched her left nipple. She yipped. It was pulled, twisted, yanked—then freed. Her flailing limbs touched only air.

She was moved in other directions and angles. Without warning there were more phantom touches, across her hair, on her navel. They jolted her. The source was always out of her reach.

Frenzy built as her heart pounded. Sweat slicked her armpits, nectar did the same to her quim. Now her breath was too loud for her to hear that of the other.

She was a spaceship captain, alone and sightless, in unknown, empty space. The power to move her belonged to someone else. Panic kindled, surging adrenaline through her, forcing deeper draughts of air—

Flesh pressed on her back, arms seized her sides, bony hands clutched her gut and sternum. "Are you afraid?" came a hiss to her ear.

"Yes!" she wailed. "Save me!"

"Whyyy?" came the reply. She felt legs slide around her thighs and spread them. In a more mocking tone: "You were naughty."

"I was!" she cried, glorying in the firm hold, yearning for more. "I'm sorry!"

"I should leave you here for eternity!" The grip on her loosened.

"NOOOOO!" she howled. "Hold me! Secure me!"

"Very well."

Something thick parted her labia and pushed into her wetness. She howled.

***

Ian McTavish knew that Prabawati Guret needed him, and even desired him. He also knew that she didn't love him.

He loved her. His love included an eagerness to please that even he found pathetic. She was the most formidable, competent, inspiring person he had ever met. She was the perfect choice to lead the first large human mission to Mars.

She was plain, fleshy, and compact. The latter was ideal at the start of her career, in the cramped insides of early interplanetary ships. In them, she honed her skills, achieved projects' goals, and won acclaim.

Ian masturbated to the images of many women who were more attractive than Wati, and fucked a few on the ship who truly inspired his gonads. He fucked Wati mostly because she wanted him to do that, in her own preferred way.

Zero gravity made this arrangement of their bodies reasonable, if not comfortable. His legs were hooked around her thighs from behind, and he was able to lower his trunk past her butt to drive his prick deep into her quim, and steady it despite the large load of lube he had applied, and the spasms of her climax. He wasn't sure that this would have mattered to her. Their scenario had her so primed that a finger-flick on her clit might get her off. It mattered to him, though. He was a straight cis man, fucking a hot, tight, wet pussy. This would keep him amped and get him off without the need to fantasize about women he found sexier, and would deflect his deep emotional regard for this woman.

Wati's arms were free, and had been the whole time. She could remove the blindfold whenever she liked. She kept it in place, however, even as they had moved into less anxious activity. Ian saw her turn her head in his direction, enough for him to see part of a smile. He knew that once the sex began, she was able to slip away from their scenario, and then ease back in. "Save some for later," she said.

"I'll have plenty," he said in his normal voice, without excessive burr. Then, realizing that his 'sub' had given him an order, he sped up and deepened his fucking. He saw her jaw drop, and spittle drift from it. Resuming his hiss, he added, "And I'll put it wherever I like!"

He knew that her first orgasm had subsided, and she was now ramping up again, gooseflesh rising on the brown skin of her back.

He slid the hand on her gut past her navel, through damp hair. His fingers felt, then rubbed, her protruding clit.

Ring muscles squeezed hard on his putz, heat stinging it. He resisted for an instant, then spewed, savoring the release. Even after his last spasm, he drove deep, and pinched the hood around her clit until she wobbled and wailed.

When he felt her muscles begin to slacken, he leaned at her ear and resumed the hiss, but said, "What if I don't let you opt out? What if I take the safety cam feed, and let Earth see who our wonderful captain really is?"

Then. on to the next part of their routine. He drew back, freed his prick, and thrust it up her anus.

***

Wati welcomed the push into her next hole, while unsure whether his statement amused or worried her. Did she exploit Ian too much? It was his idea, she reminded herself, to get his prostate boosted. Then she thrilled to the effect of that decision as he got fully rigid in her rectum.

His right hand moved to her breasts, pressing them along her ribs. She slipped again into their scenario, wordlessly feeling both the desolation of the void and the rescue that exacted a cost. She questioned her venturing into space, the hubris of any human daring the realm of unknown gods. Someday I will die out here, she thought, where I never belonged.

But this humbling was part of her pleasure. Wati's awareness of mortality was not a terror. This game with Ian, topping him from the bottom, drove her wild because of its improbability. To the extent that she had fleeting moments of inchoate fear, this activity tamed them. Not to mention, she thought during a whole-body shiver, carnal joy no one else can give me.

She wondered, however, if Ian could get access to the safety cam video. It was his job to oversee all of the ship's internal systems. Mostly, that was at a high level. An artificial intelligence did all of the direct-contact work. One of the A.I.'s operating principles was to uphold crew safety and privacy. She thought, Can that always be trusted?

Spasms began within her anus. Her head jerked back, stretching her torso to expose even more nerve endings to the fingers splayed on her breasts. Ian's hissing lost the use of words, and now he was the one who couldn't move on his own, his prick almost stilled as her butt squeezed it. She felt heat and pressure and slime, and wondered if the safety cams, positioned on the bulkheads, could record any of her abasement. Then orgasm rippled through her, spreading, shaking her. Drops of urine seeped from her vulva, and now the abasement felt real.

***

Ian thought she might have returned to the scenario, but wasn't sure. Her anal cum was more intense than usual. He had, in fact, fucked her harshly, finding himself thinking at her, Why won't you love me?

That made him ease up. That in turn made him aware of his fatigue. At the start of this escapade, he had darted and swooped all about her drifting body, even moving the cuff to her other ankle, to produce the effect of her phantom tormentor. The rapid spins and sudden yanks on his tethers left his limbs and back sore.

Still, he kept his prick up her ass after her spasms had ebbed, and strained both to keep it firm and to control his breathing. He resumed the hiss at her ear.

"What are you doing here? You're a creature of liquid water and warm oxygen. Here, you're surrounded by your death. It's only a few meters away. It's waiting for you."

His jaw, against her neck, felt her pulse speed up.

"Won't you save me?" she whispered.

"Why should I?"

"Because I need you!" She spoke in terms of weakness, but her body strengthened, flexing her trunk free of his dick.

Yes, Captain, Ian thought ruefully, you need me.

"I'll do anything," said Wati, slowly, seductively.

She pulled his hand away from her breast, brought it to her face. She sucked his fingers.

He grunted louder than he had from his orgasms. His prick twitched, shedding fluid motes.

He tried not to think of the ERV's later cleanup. Vent filtration of human ejecta, disinfecting of every surface, all automated. He hoped the non-officer executives on other shifts wouldn't look for a detailed report.

He wheezed to fill his lungs, wishing for a water bulb. He lost contact with Wati briefly, and she groaned.

He grabbed her ankle and spun her to face him. They had one more interaction in the scenario. For her, it would be a great thrill. For him, it could be an empty one.

Then he thought of a way to make it worthwhile.

He put his hands on the sides of her head and brought his belly near her mouth, as planned. "This is what you must do," he told her.

"Yes," she said, nostrils flaring. Perhaps she smelled his soiled phallus.

Abruptly he changed the scenario, yanking away her blindfold. He turned her face to look at his. To her shocked visage he said, "Suck me, Captain."

***

She jerked back, but his grip held her head.

He did not force her anywhere.

Their gazes were locked.

Finally she said, "Yes. I will suck you, Exec."

She put her hand on his cock, and brought it near her mouth. She took her own initiative to do his bidding.

She began to close her eyes. Then, realizing what she was doing, she opened them wide, and trained them on Ian's face.

She stroked the smeared shaft, spurring his boosted prostate to restore full rigidity.

She closed her mouth around the glans, and tongued it slowly.

She sent her other hand between his legs, rolled his balls with thumb and palm, and got a fingertip into his anus.

She saw his head sway, and his eyes close.

She smiled around his penis.

***

Ian got a thrill when he jolted her back to reality. But...more than that...

She had resumed her gaze, the large brown eyes intent on him, above the cheeks that hollowed around his swelling prick. This wasn't her love. It never would be. But it was concern, for him. Care. Affection. She abandoned her solo space-death fantasy. She accepted, she declared, that the appallingly gross penis that she licked and sucked belonged not to some supernatural being of her own creation, but to a person she worked with every day.

I must never let this be broadcast to Earth! Ian thought. I know the whole person she is. Nobody who doesn't know her has any right to judge what she does for pleasure.

Then her finger went up his ass.

He yelled, clenching around it. His leg and back muscles strained past soreness. He realized that his script change had given her control of both of their bodies.

Her palm pressed his balls against his perineum. His prick jerked against the roof of her mouth, and splattered it, over and over.

When he could open his eyes, dark spots blotted his view of the grid and bulkhead. His head lolled to where he could focus on Wati, who still looked at his face. Jism dribbled from her lips, along his softening shaft.

***

"You were very creative," she said, her head now beyond the open seam of her showersuit. "I hope you understand, though, that I mean it about opting out. In every way."

He turned off the feed of disinfectant-laced water and slid his showersuit down his torso. "I understand, and respect that." He didn't look at her.

"Stay here," she ordered. Then she added, "Please."

She continued scrubbing. "I think we work well together, McTavish. Would you rather be on a different shift?"

Nude, facing and parallel to her, he said, "No, Captain."