1. Starchaser


    Date: 10/18/2014, Categories: Fantasy & Sci-Fi, Author: spectreofhell, Rating: 0, Source: LushStories

    see it as if he had been an observer outside his own body. She sat on the desk of the office they had invaded for privacy. Her dress was rumpled and pushed up around her waist. Black nylons, sheer enough to show how pale her skin was, tugged down to mid-thigh. Enough for him to get his head between pantyhose and her crotch. Her hands in his hair, twisting, pulling, evincing her need for his tongue in her nethers. The drumbeat of her heels on his shoulder blades. The soft moaning of her voice in the air. Her climax, so powerful, filling his mouth with thick fluids that gushed from inside her. Thighs squeezing his head, closing his ears to the sounds of the world around them. He could still see the fire in her eyes as he stood up between her legs. The disbelief on her face mixed with wanton desire. He understood in that moment how much they had lost. How they had squandered themselves on other people. He thinking her shyness meant she was uninterested, and her thinking his aloofness was less self-defense than it was unattraction. Her nose, she had said, was too large for her face, yet he had always thought it to be a centerpiece of her unique beauty. Her skin so pale that even mild sunlight would turn it red. Him with his awkwardness, more at home with technology than he was with other people. Oh! How she had inspired him to be better! To socialize, to empathize, to understand and grow into the leader required of him. Enough to be at the helm of the Starchaser. Captain of a ...
    ship that would sail the vacant seas between suns. When all he wanted was to bask in the radiance of her gaze. Her smile was the only accolade that truly mattered. Entering her body had been the highest honor. Feeling her tightness around him, the heat of her, the realness of her soft body. That was reality. This could not be. This cold and sterile box in which he lay. The filtered air, the smell of plastic, the absence of gravity. Nothing to hold him down, and everything to pull him back across the lightyears, back into her embrace. The exquisite sensation of her body, her moist depths, looking at her face as she peaked, as orgasm united them. As he filled her body with his seed. Air blew across his face. The door sealing him inside was opening. He smelled patchouli and sandalwood. He tasted the bitterness of her tears. The lingering flavor of her juices. He felt the soft heat of her kisses tingling his lips. It was slipping away. He grasped for it, but it was gone. He was awake. Marco sat up slowly, the motion sending him floating up slightly from the bedding beneath him before restraints caught him and held him fast. A small touch released the clasps. He drifted free of the hypersleep capsule. Along the walls of the module, the rest of the crew was being awakened. But he was first. He alone had that honor. The taste of ashes weighted his tongue. He followed the carefully regimented routine designed to bring his body back to full capacity. Nutrients went into his stomach, he ...