SPACE COLONY CHRONICLES (7)
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 7.0] ***
When I went back to Cooperation 1 to see my family in the summer of 1993, midway through my college years, I found a lot had changed on the station in the two years since I'd been there. Almost the entire outer ring of the colony had been completed, with only a few sections still left to build. The main living area of the station was built, if you remember, along the bottom surface of a curved ring-shaped tube that spun constantly to generate artificial gravity. When we first got to the station in 1986 the ship just didn't have enough mass to generate full artificial gravity, which was why you kind of floated a bit in those days. By now, fully built out, gravity felt normal. Roads were being built along the interior surface. Day and night more closely resembled real days and nights on Earth because the Toilet Lid, the mirror that reflected sunlight down into the station, was mostly finished. It was really starting to look like it had been promised for all these years, the "artist's conceptions" of the finished station drawn up in the early 1970s.
Several more countries had by now joined the station, and they each had their little sectors. When we started it was basically a U.S. and Soviet operation, the British, French and Dutch came a little later, but by 1993 China, Japan, Germany and Argentina had joined up and in the next few years after that India, Mexico, Italy, Australia and Spain would also be represented. There were also a lot more amenities on the station. There was now a shopping mall, a movie theater, several food courts, a lot of parks and a real high school. The early '90s was probably the peak of international goodwill toward the station and it was definitely the time when the most money was being spent on it. Since the Soviet Union fell, the new Russian government was eager to establish itself in space, so they started shoveling rubles toward the colony in a way the Bolsheviks never did. After my first couple of days back on the station I started to realize how much I missed it. I even thought I might enjoy coming back here after college was over.
There were several new living quarters on Cooperation 1, and my parents had moved to a much bigger apartment than the one we had when I was growing up. My brother and I could have separate bedrooms for a change; mine wasn't even really "my" bedroom but more of a guest room where I'd stay for the summer. Lucas, my brother, was 18 and about to go off to Cal Tech and in fact we'd even be going back to Earth on the same shuttle in mid-August. My dad insisted I get a summer job, so I was working for the provisions office helping to catalog all the supplies that came through the station. But all they had was four hours a day, every other day, so there was a lot of down time. I really enjoyed being free and in many ways this was the best summer of my life.
The next phase of my sexual adventures began in early June. I went to the public park in the International Sector, which was intended to be for the use of everybody. There was a public swimming pool there. One day I went there to swim and I caught sight of an absolutely devastating guy, or at least I thought he was devastating. My type, in case you haven't noticed, is definitely not your traditionally handsome muscle-bound beefcake, nor do I much like effeminate twinks. This dude looked Latino to me and he had long curly dark hair, a little wispy mustache and very dark eyes. He was of ordinary build but his body--he was wearing plain blue baggy swim trunks--was perfectly toned, his chest hairless, only a thin line of black hair underneath his navel. Goth had apparently made it into orbit because the boy's fingernails were painted black and there was black eye shadow around his eyes, which is part of what made them look dark. When I saw him he was supervising three small children, much younger than him, two boys, one of them rail thin, and a little girl. He spoke to them sharply in Spanish and seemed to be totally in charge even as the kids, his siblings presumably, tore around screaming or futzed about with towels, flip-flops and pool noodles. The guy did not go swimming himself. Maybe he was afraid of smearing his eye shadow. But he did sit on the edge of the pool dangling his legs in. His calves and shins were covered in fine thin black hair. At 12:00 noon, the moment of the most intense sunlight shining off the mirror above the station, the boy put on a pair of aviator sunglasses, tipped his head back and basked in the sun. He looked like an ancient Mesoamerican god.
I don't know why this kid attracted me so much but just the sight of him made my dick hungry. I was doing laps in the pool and when I saw him I was glad the rippling water was covering me because I started to get a boner. I altered my pattern and started swimming across the pool cross-wise instead of length-wise, which gave me an excuse to swim near him and touch the wall about ten feet away from where he was sitting. I had not had sex in more than a year.
After a while the boy began to notice me each time I swam near him. With each lap he started nodding in my direction. He often had to pause to yell at one of his siblings in Spanish. When the direct beam of sunlight from the mirror moved on from the pool he took the sunglasses off. I finally decided I should at least try to talk to him. So after I made my next lap I dove, came back up, brushed hair out of my eyes and stood on the bottom of the pool. I said hello and he answered, "Hola." I asked him if he was new here. He shrugged. "English, not so good." I told him my Spanish wasn't so good. This was really the only conversation we had time for. One of the little boys fell while running on the pool deck and skinned his knee. The older brother had to go tend to him and the injury was enough that he took the rest of the kids and they gathered their stuff to leave the pool area. As he put on a T-shirt (damn!) that had been draped across a deck chair I saw the little plastic ID badge clipped to the hem of the shirt--everybody on the station carried one of those--and it had an Argentine flag on it. Argentina had thrown off military rule a decade before and in 1993 was just coming out of an economic depression, so their government was apparently eager to show off to the world by establishing itself in space.
A few days later I saw him again. The building where I worked was not far from the International Sector, and I often went to the food court there because it had some interesting stands different than the usual Pizza Hut and McDonald's in the American sector. One lunchtime I saw him sitting alone at a table, eating some kind of gooey sandwich from one of the foreign food stands and listening to Walkman headphones. He had on baggy black shorts and a band advertising the Sisters of Mercy, a somewhat obscure British act that was about the only kind of that goth music I liked. On impulse I went over to his table. I said something like, "You don't have your family to wrangle today." He didn't understand the English word "wrangle" and I gave up trying to explain it to him. But I did comment on his shirt. That perked him up immediately. He said Floodland was his favorite Sisters of Mercy album. We talked about that as best we could given the language barrier. The boy, who introduced himself as Javier, was actually really nice. He left after a few minutes and I briefly entertained a fantasy about catching him in a running tackle, wrestling him to one of the tables in the food court, ripping down his shorts and ramming my aching dick into his beautiful ass right there. I didn't often have fantasies like this but something about Javier was magnetic. At 16, which is what I guessed he was, he was too young for me but something about his eyes was absolutely mesmerizing, black eyeliner be damned.
From that point on I made a point of going to the International Sector food court every day, whether I was working that day or not. About twice a week I'd see Javier there. When he was there we always sat together. Our conversations had a lot of false starts and dead-ends because of the language issue but basically I learned that he and his family had come to the station a year before, that they previously lived in Buenos Aires, and that his father was the administrator of the whole Argentine sector. This put me off a little bit, trying to mack on the son of one of the most important people on Cooperation 1, that and his age--Javier was not quite 16. At one point I decided I should just forget it. The possibility of hooking up with him was remote at best and I could get in trouble for even trying. But something about Javier's mannerisms spoke strongly to me that he liked guys, or at least that he was open to it. (Gee, you think the makeup and painted nails might be a clue?) And he was almost too attractive to pass up.
We saw each other a couple of times at the food court. I kept thinking about him, and the times when I saw him even from a distance my heart almost stopped. I also thought about Javier while masturbating, imagining shooting a hot load into his tight ass or his hungry mouth. Finally one day I just couldn't take it anymore. I did not know if he'd understand the English words "going out" and I had no idea what the equivalent term was in Spanish. But a new movie was opening at the station's theater, "1492: Conquest of Paradise," which had come out the previous year but on the station we got stuff like that late. The film had a showing with Spanish subtitles. So at the food court I asked Javier if he wanted to go see it. He enthusiastically agreed. It was our first date.
Honestly it was pretty awkward. I didn't know if he considered it a date, or if he'd picked up that I liked him in that way. But at least I was able to spend some time with him. So we went to the movie, which was terrible, and I took him to a restaurant that had just opened up and I bought him dinner. Conversation was a little stilted because of the language barrier. He tried to tell me something about himself but I didn't understand and eventually he gave up and just sort of smiled self-consciously and shrugged. He seemed to like me, though, and smiled sweetly when we parted and went our separate ways on the escalators back to the mezzanine deck that led to our respective sectors. There was really no way for me to contact him. It wasn't like I could just call him up and have the Argentine administrator, or his wife, answer the phone. If we were going to be together we'd have to meet at the food court.
We did. Surprisingly, Javier took the initiative. Maybe I was just playing too dumb and he was getting exasperated; it was hard to know what was in his mind in those early days. But, about a week after the "1492" movie date, we were at the food court, and we said very little (as usual) but were looking at each other. Finally Javier said, "I must to ask, una pregunta. Secret. Okay?" I said okay. He took a pen from his pocket and drew something on a paper napkin and slid it across to me. He had drawn two of the symbols for male, the circle-arrow symbols, and two question marks, one upside down, one right side up. Clearly he was asking if I was gay. I looked at the napkin, then at him, and nodded. He pointed to himself and nodded too. I took his pen, another napkin and drew a little heart on it. I slid it across the table toward him. He saw it, smiled, and turned bright red. The moment was awkward, but at least we had made some progress.
I really didn't know what to do after that. Javier, though, made another move. The next time we were at the food court he made clear that we should go to the movies again. They printed the movie schedules on little cards that they handed out at the food court, and he'd circled a movie and a show time and asked if I wanted to go. I said yes. It was a really terrible film called "Stay Tuned" but it didn't matter what the movie was. I remember this was on a Thursday night right after I got off work. Javier was wearing a T-shirt advertising some goth band, baggy shorts and high-top sneakers, but also a jean jacket, which was a little odd. The temperature controls on the station during the summer were set at a constant 72 degrees (68 in the winter) so you didn't really need a jacket. I also thought it odd that he chose seats for us at the very back of the theater, in the last row. The movie theaters on Cooperation 1 were very small, probably 50 seats. This wasn't a popular movie so the theater wasn't very crowded.
I caught on pretty quickly that he wanted to do something sexual. The thought was thrilling to me but a little scary. I had never done anything in public before. Javier took off his jacket and laid it across his lap. A few minutes after the movie started he slowly moved the jacket over to his right (I was sitting to his right). I took the cue and pulled it over my lap. Then he reached over with his right hand, under the jacket, and began feeling my crotch through my jeans. My dick got hard instantly. I settled back and down in sort of a sprawling position. We'd gotten a small carton of popcorn, but more importantly, a bunch of paper napkins from the concession counter. Javier aggressively felt me up. My rod was leaking precum and I could feel a wet spot in my underwear. He started to tug at my zipper but it was impossible to do with one hand. So I helped him. Surreptitiously I reached under the jacket, slid down the zipper and then pulled my seething stiff penis out of the fly of my Y-front briefs. A moment later Javier's naked hand touched my member. I had to bite my lip to stop myself from groaning out loud.
He played with my dick for a long time, caressing it up and down, forming a ring with his thumb and forefinger and pulling it over the ridge of my dickhead. Perhaps he was entranced by its size. Not that I'm huge, I'm totally average, but I had five years on him and I doubted he'd handled a lot of men's cocks before. He seemed to play with me forever. Incredibly with his other hand he was eating popcorn at the time. I sat there, staring dumbly at the screen, enjoying the feeling of being fondled by him. After a good long time he stopped and was motionless, his fist wrapped around my cock. Then he started stroking me with a steady and intensive rhythm. Javier was completely silent as he masturbated me and his eyes too were fixed on the screen. I got a wad of the napkins ready as I felt my dick flirting with the super-hardness of impending orgasm. I bit my lip and gritted my teeth to avoid making any sound as my penis turned to burning hard steel in Javier's hand and then let loose with a powerful ejaculation. Soon the napkins and my hand were soaked with cum. There was some of my spunk on Javier's hand. Incredibly, he took his right hand out from under the jacket and licked his thumb as if he was licking salt from the popcorn off his fingers. He glanced at me and gave me a little smile.
I put my dick, still leaking a few drops of cum, back in my pants as best I could. I relished the idea of returning the favor. Javier slid the jacket across to his own lap and readied a handful of napkins. When I reached under the jacket I found him hot, hard and ready. He'd unzipped his fly and he wasn't wearing underwear, having gone commando under his cargo shorts specifically to give me easy access. Javier's penis was actually quite small, I'd say barely five inches, and he had foreskin. He wasn't that big, but he could get harder than any male I'd ever been with up to that point. This sounds weird but it felt like glass, like I was holding a shaft of hot, smooth glass. Because his shorts were baggy and he wasn't wearing underwear I could reach inside his fly and play with his balls. He wasn't as good at remaining quiet as I had been and squirmed around a bit, pretending to cough. I'm right-handed and it was awkward having to jack him with my left hand, but it didn't seem to make a difference. I had reached down to fondle his nuts again and as I reached back up I started to feel a splatter of hot jets in the hollow of my palm. Javier's whole body shuddered and he sighed softly, loud enough for me to hear but not anyone else in the theater. When I took my hand away I snatched up one of the napkins and pretended to blow my nose, but what I really did was lick his semen off my hand, and I made sure he knew I was doing that. It tasted salty and acidic. We held hands under the jacket for the rest of the movie.
I was ecstatic, even though this was minor league stuff, but I greatly enjoyed it and I especially liked having given the beautiful Javier sex pleasure that he probably didn't get to experience very often. Having grown up on the space colony myself I knew how difficult it was to get laid there, if this counted as getting laid. Honestly I thought this was a one-off type of thing, or perhaps just a summer fling; probably we'd go to the movies a few more times that summer, jack each other off secretly and that would be the end of it. I had no idea that this was the start of what would turn out to be a long relationship. Life surprises you. But I still remember, all these years later, the hot, forbidden rush of that first time. It's one of my fondest memories.
To be continued...
My book, "An American Elf in Paris," is out now: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08BNVGZYQ
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