SPACE COLONY CHRONICLES (2)
By Dolphin Dan
*** This story takes place against the backdrop of an alternate history where, after the U.S. Apollo Moon landing program ended in 1972, the United States and Soviet Union, and eventually other countries, joined together in a massive concerted effort to build a large Earth-orbiting space station capable of sustaining a significant human population in space. This alternate history explores a trajectory of peace and cooperation that was not taken, instead of a course of antagonism and conflict that, in the real world, was. Peace and cooperation is always better than war and conflict. [/Dolphin rant OFF Execute Program Space Colony Chronicles 2.0] ***
Bill, the son of one of my dad's engineer colleagues on the space station, was the first guy I fooled around with in any serious way, but it didn't last that long. Only a couple of weeks after our first fuck in the school shower Bill appeared at our ersatz high school in black pants and a white button-up shirt, his hair cut, and brandishing a Bible. One of the high school students' mothers had started a Bible study group and they were trying to get all the school kids to join. Most of the American families on Cooperation 1 were from suburban Houston or Florida, so there were a lot of born-again Christians at least among the parents, and this was 1986, the height of the Moral Majority era. As soon as Bill found Jesus it was like I didn't exist, but at least he never told anybody what we did. Live and let live.
There was a kid, a year ahead of me, named Greg Park, also the son of one of the engineering staff who overwhelmingly dominated the first families to live on the colony. The Parks were of Korean extraction, and also religious, but Greg didn't hold with any of that. He was one of the most vulgar, irreverent and funny kids I ever knew in school. He wore hockey jerseys, backwards ball caps and floppy high-top sneakers in 1986-87. He loved horror and porn movies and he had a TV and VCR in his bedroom, so after school I'd go to his apartment, in Q Section (ours was in N Section) and we'd watch "Friday the 13th" or his favorite porn film, surreptitiously taped off a porn cable channel, called "Muff Divers." Greg taught me words like "mutler," which refers to the cone-shaped mound of saggy, flabby skin around an old woman's vulva, and "choad," the medieval Middle English word for penis. Just to be funny he would say sick stuff like, "You know when people are really sick and the doctors hook them up to tubes that drain their piss into a plastic bag hanging on the side of the bed? What if you went up to someone like that, grabbed the bag and started squeezing their piss back into them?" He said stuff like this just to be shocking and funny. I thought Greg was physically very cute. After a while of hanging out with him I wondered if he would put out.
One day, this was in the winter of 1987, I was hanging out at Greg's house and he put on "Muff Divers," which to be honest was a pretty pedestrian porn film but at our age, and living on a space station, it was basically all we had. He had learned some Middle English words because in his English class they were studying "The Canterbury Tales," and for a class project several students had read aloud portions of the text in Middle English, including the racy portions. Greg started referring to his "membre," which was another Middle English word for penis, and "toute," the Middle English word for butt or ass. After a while he started making up fake Middle English verses in the style of "The Canterbury Tales," like he'd say, "I'd sure like to stycke my membre into her vagyne, or mebbe her toute, and squeezye her tyttes." I'd answer with stuff like, "I'd like to put my membre betwixt her tyttes." Greg laughed. I realized I could do just about anything and pretend it was a joke, if I could make up fake Middle English words and if I could pretend it was somehow hetero. We were sitting on the floor at the foot of Greg's bed in his tiny bedroom watching porn stars fuck on a 13" TV. My dick was hard, much more from being close to Greg than from what was happening on the screen. I put my hand full-on into my pants and said, "Her tyttes maketh my membre harde," and I started masturbating in my pants. Greg, who was eating Twizzlers, laughed and almost choked on them. "Dude, you fucking pig!" He thought it was funny, but it was his kind of shocking-sexual funny. I kept jerking my fist inside my jeans, and I pretended to moan. "Oh yeah, byttche, lemme squeezye yore tyttes!" Greg laughed so hard he spit out a glob of what looked like bright red plastic, which was the mouthful of half-chewed Twizzlers he'd been eating. But after a little while he did exactly what I hoped he'd do: he unbuttoned his own jeans, reached into his underwear and started jacking off too. I came in my underwear first. Greg followed about 30 seconds later, his breath ragged and his body twitching as he reached orgasm. We said nothing about what happened but I knew instantly he was my next boyfriend.
I was very aggressive and blunt with Greg. As school was ending one Thursday afternoon, and we were putting away stuff in our lockers, I came up to him and said, "Do you want to hang out this afternoon?" and he said without hesitation, "Yes." We went to his family's house, we sat down on the floor in his bedroom and I said, "You want to jack off?" and again he said "Yes." We jacked a bit and I finally got to see his dick, which was average for his age, though his wispy black bush was badly in need of trimming. He took his shirt off too. Greg closed his eyes, arched his back and grunted loudly as he came. We used a washcloth to clean up, which he wrung out and washed in the bathroom sink right away. Kleenex or toilet paper was too priceless on the space station to cum into, and even cumming into your underwear, which I liked to do, was dangerous because of the extra water usage and expense of washing them. Everything on the space station was rationed.
We jacked off together a couple of times before it got more serious. Again it was me who pushed it. On one of our afternoon sessions (both of Greg's parents worked, so we were usually alone in the afternoons), I said, "You ever get tired of just cranking? I'll suck your dick if you want me to, but you got to do it to me." For the first time he recoiled and he said, "Dude, I'm not a fag." I told him it didn't have anything to do with being a fag. How many people were on this space station? Of that number, how many were people our own age who might ever want to fuck us or suck our dicks? Two, if you're lucky? If you're going to get off and not have your balls explode, you got to do some stuff you wouldn't do back on Earth. This speech worked like a charm. It was totally disingenuous because it completely ignored the fact that I was gay and wanted boy-on-boy sex in any form I could possibly get it, but Greg never caught on. He immediately pulled off his jeans and his underwear, laid down on the living room carpet and put his hand around his balls and the root of his cock, sticking it up in the air. For the second time in my life took a man into my mouth. I sucked him as hard as I could for about five minutes. He was pretty quiet until the end, and then suddenly his whole body tensed up, he grabbed my hair and held my head in place to prevent me from pulling off him (not as if I would have), then he shuddered, grunted and exploded in my mouth. I eagerly sucked down every drop of Greg's hot salty sperm. The experience left me incredibly satisfied.
Greg did not suck my dick on that occasion. I got on the floor, naked, and put my hands behind my head, my dick throbbing freely in front of him. He moved toward me but eventually turned away, sighing, and said, "Dude, I just can't do it." Honestly I was so satisfied from doing him that I didn't mind it much, but I did tell him he was going to have to do it the next time I came over. We got our clothes back on and watched a VHS tape of "The Goonies." It was weird, the sexual and the childish that mixed together in those days. Greg's parents came home before the movie was over and his mother made us Korean barbecue, which was awesome. The Korean barbecue sauce washed the taste of Greg's cum out of my throat.
I finally did get my penis in his mouth the next time we were together, but I feel a little bad about it because I totally guilted him into it. I kept reminding him of what I did to him and saying stuff like, "Fair is fair," but it was clear he really wasn't into it. He asked me, "Do I have to do it until you cum?" I said I'd warn him when I was getting close and he could take me out of his mouth. So Greg took his shirt off, put his baseball cap around backwards and went down on me. A VHS tape of "The Dark Crystal" was playing on his living room VCR at the time. To be honest, Greg was a lousy blow job, a shame given how attractive he was. I told him I was going to cum, and he spit me out instantly. I masturbated myself to orgasm and ejaculated all over my own belly, my hand slick with Greg's spit. He wasn't even watching; his eyes were fixated on the movie. We cleaned up with the washcloth as usual. He didn't put his shirt back on but I got back into my clothes. He just stared at the TV screen until the movie was over and then he said he had homework and I should go. Clearly I had pushed him over a line he didn't want to cross.
The next week Greg very abruptly got a girlfriend. At first I thought he just made the whole thing up. He said there was a girl named Shelley, back in Houston, who he knew from his freshman year in high school (the year before his family moved to Cooperation 1), evidently the daughter of another of the Korean engineers who helped build the station. Their family had gotten in the line-up to join, and Shelley already started writing to him and he said he loved her. Shelley's family did in fact arrive on the next space shuttle to dock with the station, in April of 1987, with a bunch of mission specialists and some Russians. I decided not to try to press him for sex anymore. This experience taught me how difficult it would be to find, and keep, a boyfriend on the station. But I wasn't done yet.
More to come...
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