A Space Opera, featuring DeLand Barbie and the Tesla
The Captain stood brooding as mechs cleaved buckled plating from the small freighter's hull. The job was supposed to be routine, he groused to himself. Just pick up a few scientists from some obscure solar observatory and deliver them to the nearest space port on Synder. The Tesla, a Firefly-class light freighter modified for FTL travel, had been on a delivery run in a nearby sector when the announcement hit the freelancer boards. What the deceptively brief posting had failed to mention was why the troop of egg heads needed to be evacuated. As it turned out, their observatory had been placed around this particular star to catalogue it's final stage of life. Final indeed! With the last refugees boarding only moments before, the Tesla was still spooling her FTL when the enormous coronal mass ejection struck. Her repulsion field coils immediately overloaded and her aft bulkhead and engine nacelles buckled. For the next few hours the Tesla's crew struggled to keep forward life support systems online and to restore communications. The distress signal finally went out and the rescue ship had arrived shortly thereafter to take on the Tesla's refugees and crew. It was the Captain alone who remained aboard to bear the indignity of the long tow to the Synder drydocks.
Synder was a ring world. Tidally locked with it's star, the light side a searing desert and the dark side a frozen wasteland. The thin region of perpetual twilight, however, where light side meets dark, was temperate and hospitable to life. And so it was that Captain Falken, bathed in the soft orange glow of an eternal sunset, brooded over the state of his vessel, and his finances, at Synder's Spaceport Orange.
"Damn," the young woman beside him exclaimed as a particularly large section of the starboard nacelle was pried loose by a demo mech's massive claws. Falken turned and glowered at his Navigator. "Sorry boss," the woman said quickly as she noticed his glare, her tone far from sorry, "but standing here for hours on end isn't helping a goddamn thing you know". In fact, he did know, but he wasn't about to explain to someone twenty years his junior the connection between Captain and vessel.
"Listen," his Navigator continued, immune to her Captain's silence, "your sulking is kinda bumming us out. You need to get yourself laid, and get your head right," she offered sagely, then cheekily sauntered away. Falken watched her go, feeling both indignation and amusement at her words. Finally he turned back to the wreck of his beloved ship and muttered to himself, "That I do lassy. That I do".
Falken activated his comm link as a holographic display danced to life over his left wrist. He brought up one of the local sexworker guild pages and perused it's offerings, pausing over the ad of a young local girl of obvious Terran descent.
[URL]https://daytona.skipthegames.com/female-escorts/caucasian_e/barbie-is-back-with-new-specia/404369522638[/URL]
[URL]http://archive.ph/jCQXk[/URL]
Falken had seen this provider's ads for years and had always meant to pay her a visit when in port. [I]No time like the present[/I] Falken mused, and sent Barbie an introductory message. A few back and forth communications and a half-hour rendezvous was scheduled. He'd have just enough time to clean himself up and guide his hired transport to her DeLand address some thirty minutes west of Spaceport Orange.
While still about ten minutes away, a message from Barbie arrived through the vehicle's nav computer, now synched to his personal comm link, asking him if he could bring a cover. Since he always packs a backup cover, he responded in the affirmative. Had he not been carrying one, he would have found this last minute request an annoyance. As it was, small currents of anticipation and arousal began firing in some primal area of his brain at her subtle acknowledgement that, in a few moments hence, his cock would be inside her.
A driveway through a wall of local flora gave way to a cluster of small buildings cobbled together from the remnants of derelict spacecraft; castoffs from the space port's main industry. Falken alighted just as a beautiful blonde girl in tee shirt and pajama bottoms came smiling through the breezeway formed by the property's main dwelling and a small garage-like structure with adjoining roof. He smiled back with an exhortation of pleasure at making her acquaintance. Only then did he don his mask, apologizing for this precaution against the latest virus ravaging Synder. He politely asked the girl if she would like one too, and was pleasantly surprised by her enthusiastic acceptance. And so with mask donned, the beautiful blonde girl led Captain Falken back through the breezeway, through a debris-strewn yard of patchy grass and the cast off parts of long-defunct vessels, and into a large, free-standing garage which had been converted for habitation. As he breached the doorway and took in his surrounds, Falken was grateful to note the presence of bathing and head facilities, as well as a wall-mounted atmospheric conditioner. DeLand was significantly closer to the day side of Synder's day / night terminator, where atmospheric conditioning was an essential creature comfort for beings of Terran descent like Barbie.
Falken continued making small talk with his host as he encoded 120 credits onto a glass marker and placed it on a nearby shelving unit for Barbie to plainly see. This being their first encounter, the Captain was eager to put his host at ease, so he immediately disrobed, knowing there were rules against local regulatory enforcement officials going tackle-out. Barbie happily followed suit, and soon the two were kneeling face-to-face on the room's large and surprisingly comfortable bed, enjoying a few minutes of intimate conversation and gentle caressing. Falken marveled at how well the images in Barbie's ad represented the lass in the flesh, right down to the sexy pooch she carried around her midriff. Deception had always been one of Falken's pet peeves, and none was being detected here. His cock was soon begging for more attention than her delicate hands were providing, so Barbie obligingly laid him back, pulled her mask aside, and went straight to work. The sensations were superb as the young lass struggled to reach the base of his shaft and lick his balls, though she wasn't quite able to pull this off. When he felt the twinges of climax starting to build, he reached over and extracted the cover from it's wrapper; the universal sign for "on to the next act".
With cover in place, Barbie secured her mask and eagerly mounted him in cowgirl; the Captain massaging her breasts as Barbie rocked and gyrated and cooed. When her quads finally gave up the fight, Barbie dismounted and dropped into canine, wiggling her ass by way of invitation. Falken slid himself back inside her and gripped her hips. His head rolled back in ecstasy as her wet warmth gripped his shaft with perfect pressure. The build towards climax started immediately, and the Captain didn't fight it. He just kept stroking ever more vigorously until the orgasmic convulsions overtook him, ejecting some mass of his own while Barbie collapsed forward onto her stomach. Barbie made no attempt to move as the Captain recovered his breath at the back of her neck. Though her mask obscured her features, the Captain was pretty sure she was smiling. But all good things must come to an end, so Falken gently extracted himself from her bed, tied off the cover, and washed himself in the head compartment at Barbie's behest.
When Barbie finally showed him to the door, he made sure she saved his contact information. So with sincere exhortations to come see her again, Barbie sent her visitor happily out into the twilight.
As the autonomous transporter dutifully ferried Captain Falken back to Spaceport Orange, he was finally able to relax and mull over the events of recent days with a clear head. His navigator was right, he had badly needed this. Checking the time on his comm link, he noted the evening was still relatively young. [I]A few drinks with the crew wouldn't go amiss[/I] he mused to himself, reclining to stare through the moonroof at the heavens beyond.
Excellent! Splendid! Superb!
[QUOTE=JoshuaFalken;4862100]The Captain stood brooding as mechs cleaved buckled plating from the small freighter's hull. The job was supposed to be routine, he groused to himself. Just pick up a few scientists from some obscure solar observatory and deliver them to the nearest space port on Synder. The Tesla, a Firefly-class light freighter modified for FTL travel, had been on a delivery run in a nearby sector when the announcement hit the freelancer boards. What the deceptively brief posting had failed to mention was why the troop of egg heads needed to be evacuated. As it turned out, their observatory had been placed around this particular star to catalogue it's final stage of life. Final indeed! With the last refugees boarding only moments before, the Tesla was still spooling her FTL when the enormous coronal mass ejection struck. Her repulsion field coils immediately overloaded and her aft bulkhead and engine nacelles buckled. For the next few hours the Tesla's crew struggled to keep forward life support systems online and to restore communications. The distress signal finally went out and the rescue ship had arrived shortly thereafter to take on the Tesla's refugees and crew. It was the Captain alone who remained aboard to bear the indignity of the long tow to the Synder drydocks.
Synder was a ring world. Tidally locked with it's star, the light side a searing desert and the dark side a frozen wasteland. The thin region of perpetual twilight, however, where light side meets dark, was temperate and hospitable to life. And so it was that Captain Falken, bathed in the soft orange glow of an eternal sunset, brooded over the state of his vessel, and his finances, at Synder's Spaceport Orange.
"Damn," the young woman beside him exclaimed as a particularly large section of the starboard nacelle was pried loose by a demo mech's massive claws. Falken turned and glowered at his Navigator. "Sorry boss," the woman said quickly as she noticed his glare, her tone far from sorry, "but standing here for hours on end isn't helping a goddamn thing you know". In fact, he did know, but he wasn't about to explain to someone twenty years his junior the connection between Captain and vessel.
"Listen," his Navigator continued, immune to her Captain's silence, "your sulking is kinda bumming us out. You need to get yourself laid, and get your head right," she offered sagely, then cheekily sauntered away. Falken watched her go, feeling both indignation and amusement at her words. Finally he turned back to the wreck of his beloved ship and muttered to himself, "That I do lassy. That I do".
Falken activated his comm link as a holographic display danced to life over his left wrist. He brought up one of the local sexworker guild pages and perused it's offerings, pausing over the ad of a young local girl of obvious Terran descent.
[URL]https://daytona.skipthegames.com/female-escorts/caucasian_e/barbie-is-back-with-new-specia/404369522638[/URL]
[URL]http://archive.ph/jCQXk[/URL]
Falken had seen this provider's ads for years and had always meant to pay her a visit when in port. [I]No time like the present[/I] Falken mused, and sent Barbie an introductory message. A few back and forth communications and a half-hour rendezvous was scheduled. He'd have just enough time to clean himself up and guide his hired transport to her DeLand address some thirty minutes west of Spaceport Orange.
While still about ten minutes away, a message from Barbie arrived through the vehicle's nav computer, now synched to his personal comm link, asking him if he could bring a cover. Since he always packs a backup cover, he responded in the affirmative. Had he not been carrying one, he would have found this last minute request an annoyance. As it was, small currents of anticipation and arousal began firing in some primal area of his brain at her subtle acknowledgement that, in a few moments hence, his cock would be inside her.
A driveway through a wall of local flora gave way to a cluster of small buildings cobbled together from the remnants of derelict spacecraft; castoffs from the space port's main industry. Falken alighted just as a beautiful blonde girl in tee shirt and pajama bottoms came smiling through the breezeway formed by the property's main dwelling and a small garage-like structure with adjoining roof. He smiled back with an exhortation of pleasure at making her acquaintance. Only then did he don his mask, apologizing for this precaution against the latest virus ravaging Synder. He politely asked the girl if she would like one too, and was pleasantly surprised by her enthusiastic acceptance. And so with mask donned, the beautiful blonde girl led Captain Falken back through the breezeway, through a debris-strewn yard of patchy grass and the cast off parts of long-defunct vessels, and into a large, free-standing garage which had been converted for habitation. As he breached the doorway and took in his surrounds, Falken was grateful to note the presence of bathing and head facilities, as well as a wall-mounted atmospheric conditioner. DeLand was significantly closer to the day side of Synder's day / night terminator, where atmospheric conditioning was an essential creature comfort for beings of Terran descent like Barbie.
Falken continued making small talk with his host as he encoded 120 credits onto a glass marker and placed it on a nearby shelving unit for Barbie to plainly see. This being their first encounter, the Captain was eager to put his host at ease, so he immediately disrobed, knowing there were rules against local regulatory enforcement officials going tackle-out. Barbie happily followed suit, and soon the two were kneeling face-to-face on the room's large and surprisingly comfortable bed, enjoying a few minutes of intimate conversation and gentle caressing. Falken marveled at how well the images in Barbie's ad represented the lass in the flesh, right down to the sexy pooch she carried around her midriff. Deception had always been one of Falken's pet peeves, and none was being detected here. His cock was soon begging for more attention than her delicate hands were providing, so Barbie obligingly laid him back, pulled her mask aside, and went straight to work. The sensations were superb as the young lass struggled to reach the base of his shaft and lick his balls, though she wasn't quite able to pull this off. When he felt the twinges of climax starting to build, he reached over and extracted the cover from it's wrapper; the universal sign for "on to the next act".
With cover in place, Barbie secured her mask and eagerly mounted him in cowgirl; the Captain massaging her breasts as Barbie rocked and gyrated and cooed. When her quads finally gave up the fight, Barbie dismounted and dropped into canine, wiggling her ass by way of invitation. Falken slid himself back inside her and gripped her hips. His head rolled back in ecstasy as her wet warmth gripped his shaft with perfect pressure. The build towards climax started immediately, and the Captain didn't fight it. He just kept stroking ever more vigorously until the orgasmic convulsions overtook him, ejecting some mass of his own while Barbie collapsed forward onto her stomach. Barbie made no attempt to move as the Captain recovered his breath at the back of her neck. Though her mask obscured her features, the Captain was pretty sure she was smiling. But all good things must come to an end, so Falken gently extracted himself from her bed, tied off the cover, and washed himself in the head compartment at Barbie's behest.
When Barbie finally showed him to the door, he made sure she saved his contact information. So with sincere exhortations to come see her again, Barbie sent her visitor happily out into the twilight.
As the autonomous transporter dutifully ferried Captain Falken back to Spaceport Orange, he was finally able to relax and mull over the events of recent days with a clear head. His navigator was right, he had badly needed this. Checking the time on his comm link, he noted the evening was still relatively young. [I]A few drinks with the crew wouldn't go amiss[/I] he mused to himself, reclining to stare through the moonroof at the heavens beyond.[/QUOTE]This was an enjoyable read; One of your best.
