To the End of Space: Chapter Two
Warning: the following story contains graphic descriptions of consensual sex between adult males. If you are underage or do not wish to read such materials, or if it is illegal to read them in your jurisdiction, then read no further. If you have any feedback, feel free to drop me a line at niftystoryteller@yahoo.com.
Once we were done with the doc, or, rather, once he was done with us, Kellen and I claimed our duffels, donned standard issue shore-leave uniforms, and squared away the arrangements for our quarters. We were assigned to share a two bedchamber suite, which would be plenty of room for us and any willing recruits we might invite back for some private entertainment.
Passing through the final pre-shore-side checkpoint, I thought that the guard who verified our IDs might be one of those willing recruits, given the way he checked out Kellen. The young squib did look mighty fine in his uni, so I could hardly blame the guard. The Scouts' shore-leave uniforms consist of a form-fitting, short-sleeved tunic paired with knee-length breeches. The soldier keeps his equipment tucked back behind a removable pouch, which leaves him always ready and able for whatever action comes his way. Kellen's was almost translucent, giving everyone who looked his way a pretty good idea of what he was packing. It was bound to attract attention.
"Where are your quarters, Cadet Quest?" the guard asked as he scanned his telescreen.
"34 Block 17," Kellen replied. "But I don't think I'll be there that much."
"Then maybe I'll see you around somewhere else. I'm at the Ionian aqua center every morning at 8 clicks. I'm not on duty here until 10. That leaves plenty of time for showing new arrivals the ropes."
The guard really wasn't being very subtle, but he had the muscle and the sex appeal to back it up. Tall, dark, and handsome. Just as important, ready, willing, and able. As we passed out of the checkpoint, I saw him adjust his own bulging equipment before calling the next soldier up to his post.
After clearing the gate, we emerged into the station's main chamber. It was a fantastic, vaulted wonder, a miracle of engineering and artificial terraforming. Scanning the landscape, we surveyed a small city that had been rolled up into a giant sealed tube, 12,000 marks long and 2,000 across. Streets meandered along the curved surface, which was dotted with structures. You could walk the whole circumference in a couple of clicks, if you didn't get distracted along the way, yet it felt enormous compared to the tin can transport we had been on. At one end of the massive cylinder, the light of a controlled fusion reaction poured in. This artificial sun would shine until the night period approached, when it would start to dim, thus simulating a standard cycle. Looking up and across to the far side of the station, the ant-like people went about their business, just like us, except that they were upside down, held in place by the artificial gravity that was generated by the station's steady rotation on an invisible axis.
Eager to shed our gear, Kellen and I flagged down a robocart, which quickly zipped us to our quarters. The suite turned out to be even nicer than I was expecting. Comfortable and spacious bunks, stocked bar, several large video screens with every kind of entertainment, and a nice view of the shared pool and lounge area. There were plenty of officers out there, letting it all hang out. Some were swimming or talking in small groups, but plenty were on their hands and knees, getting it at both ends, or otherwise milking out what was probably their third or fourth loads of the cycle. One in particular caught my eye, a big red-head who was absolutely drilling the shit out of a tight little blond. Roban Perl! I would have recognized that Scout anywhere.
"I need to go out and say hey to someone," I told Kellen.
"Yes, sir. I'll unpack my gear."
"I won't be long, and then we can go get some grub. But one thing you need to know, Kellen. Once you go shore-side at a Beta Station, rank goes on the shelf. No more 'sir.' I hereby order you to use my name."
He grinned. "Yes, sir. I mean, yes, Dravid."
That was the rule. Overall, Space Force was pretty uptight about the whole chain-of-command thing, but shore leave was something else. Of course, things never got too out of hand, since the grunts typically ended up at the Gamma stations, the officers at the Beta stations, and the real mucky-mucks at the Alpha stations, but there was definitely some mixing of the ranks. The relaxed atmosphere on shore leave helped to form the fraternal bonds that were critical for Space Force cohesion. Rather than undermining authority, it strengthened our connections.
Stepping outside, I sauntered over to my target. Judging from the speed of his thrusts, Roban was getting close, so I stayed back to give him time to finish.
"Fuck yeah, fill me the fuck up," groaned his fair-haired partner, as he rocked back and forth, matching Roban's tempo.
"You can't get enough of my cum, can you, soldier," Roban grunted. "Well. Here's. Some. More." With that, he grabbed the other guy's hips, thrust in to the hilt, and held that position as he emptied his balls. "Fuck. If I pump any more cum into you, it's gonna start dribbling outta your ears."
"I'll say," I interjected. "When am I gonna get some of that?"
Turning my way, still buried balls-deep, a broad grin broke out across Roban's ginger-bearded face. "Well, I'll be godsdamned. Dravid Skilling. I don't believe my own eyes." He eased his still stiff tool out of the pulsing hole and ambled over to me, leaving his buddy - who apparently liked to be tag-teamed - to the care of the next guy in line.
He grabbed me in his usual bear hug, which devolved into the inevitable impromptu wrestling match. Wearing clothes, I was at a distinct disadvantage in the struggle, which was probably why I ended up breathless and on my back, pinned down by Roban's solid frame.
"Who's your daddy, now?" he challenged.
"Fuck. OK, ok, you win."
He laughed and ripped off my pouch, which he waved like a victory flag. "Mine! Your ass is so mine! And so is this sorry excuse for a Scout prick," he said, grabbing my half-hard equipment. With that, he tossed my pouch away, and I resigned myself to free-balling it, at least temporarily. Actually, plenty of guys opt to go pouch-free while on shore leave, and some pretty much dispense with clothes altogether. I've always liked the look of the complete uniform, though, and wear it with pride, but that didn't mean I was a prude. It would do my cock some good to have breathing room.
After letting me up, Roban grabbed me once again, though this time he planted his mouth on mine so that we could share a proper greeting. The familiar feel of his neatly trimmed ginger whiskers on my lips took me back to our precadet days.
"It's great to see you, Dravid. How long's it been?"
"Gods, probably two circuits." I savored the sensation of his still slick tool, pressed up against my own growing erection. "You're looking as good as ever."
And indeed he was. Tall, built, pale freckled skin covered with a layer of peach fuzz, and a very dangerous weapon sprouting between his legs, protruding from a dense thatch of red hair. Roban was the real deal. We had met at the Academy when we were called to service, and more than once we had donned our unis and gone out to cruise the civilian farm boys, fulfilling their fantasies of being taken by two Space Force studs at the same time. We made quite the team. Since then, our careers had proceeded at roughly the same pace, but our paths didn't cross often enough.
"When'd you get in?" he asked.
"Just a couple of clicks ago." I nodded in the direction of my quarters. "One of my men and I are in there. We're gonna go get some chow, if you want to join us."
"Sounds good."
Still stark naked, Roban followed me back to the suite, where I introduced him to Kellen.
"I hope this prick isn't busting your chops too much, soldier," Roban said, winking in my direction.
"Nah, not too bad," Kellen said. He paused. "Actually, he's a great Commander. His men'd follow him anywhere."
"Aww, come on, you're gonna embarrass me," I said, but I appreciated the acknowledgement. "I hate to break up this love fest, but I need some chow. Now."
Indeed I did. The bio boosters had definitely kicked in, and my depleted body desperately needed some fuel as it rebuilt muscle and bone. Roban told us that the nearest canteen was pretty good, so we decided to check it out. I didn't bother putting on another pouch, and Roban didn't bother with clothes at all.
The midcycle meal period was winding down, so the canteen was only about half full. I was grateful, because that guaranteed quick service, and before long we were tucking into a spread of delicacies from a dozen different systems. The chow may be subpar on Space Force ships, but the rec stations are another matter. I hadn't eaten that well in hundreds of cycles.
Roban and I spent the meal catching up on our respective exploits since the last time we had met, probably embellishing a bit, but not enough that it was unbelievable. Kellen was content to sit and listen, which gave him the opportunity to check out the other diners. A couple were naked like Roban, and most of the rest had ditched their pouches. The combination of the male scenery and the stimulants coursing through his veins was having a clear effect on Kellen, and his pouch bulged noticeably as it struggled to contain the monster within.
Roban couldn't resist pointing it out. "You might be more comfortable if you'd lose that pouch, you know. Don't worry, we won't bite. Unless you want us to."
"Well, I can't argue with that." Kellen pulled off the fabric panel, exposing his equipment. Now free of any restraint, it quickly rose to full mast, attracting glances from more than a few other diners.
"So, did you guys get the new Fecpod?" Roban asked, eyeing Kellen's impressive tool.
"Yep," I replied. "We're plugged for a couple more clicks."
"I'll be happy to provide a new plug when the one you've got comes out."
"Now why'd I want that sorry-ass looking thing up my butt?" I reached over to grab his leaking cock, and then let my hand migrate up to twist his pale pink nipple. Actually, at the Academy we had usually tag-teamed someone else, but I couldn't deny enjoying the times he had fucked me. It wouldn't take much to convince me to let it happen again.
The server kept the food coming until we begged for mercy. At that point, fully satisfied, Roban and I leaned back to savor some Dranovian spirits while Kellen went to check out the dessert spread.
"He seems like a good Scout," Roban remarked as he absentmindedly fiddled with his cock.
"The best I've ever seen. He'll sure as hell make Commander faster than we did."
We watched as a couple of strapping, stiff-dicked Scouts joined him by the table of sweets, no doubt sweet-talking him. The negotiation went pretty quickly, and before long he waved to us and departed with them, ready to start his serious recreation.
"I guess we're on our own, old friend," I commented. "What say we go for a workout session and then see what develops?"
Despite growing horniness, my rejuvenating muscles were demanding to be pumped up. Answering them was going to be the first order of business, though I expected that we would be able to kill two birds with one stone at the gym. Not surprisingly, servicemen frequently combined sex and exercise while they were on shore leave.
Roban willingly joined me, and we strolled over to the nearby gym. It was a soaring, vaulted space, a cathedral of naked, sweating men. Walls of mirrors displayed pumped bodies from every angle. Some were strapped into the latest training devices, while others opted for old-fashioned bare-handed sparring and wrestling. All were naked. I stripped out of my uni and dropped it in a locker before selecting a robotrainer. As I progressed through the different programs, I admired the effect the workout was having on my body. Sweat matted the dark hair that curled across my bulging pecs, and abs popped into sharp relief. Biceps and triceps pulsed with power, and lats could have been forged of steel, part of a muscular suit of armor. Bigger. Stronger. Faster. That's what I want to be, I repeated to myself. Fucking Bigger! Hooyah! Fucking Stronger! Hooyah! Fucking Faster! Hooyah! Fucking Baddest-Ass Commander of the Fucking Butchest Unit of Scouts in the Mother-Fucking Galaxy!
"Hooyah!" I roared, maxing out at 103 percent of my potential, according to the telescreen on the robotrainer.
"Lookin' good," Roban called over to me. "Lookin' good."
"Feelin' good too. But I think I'm ready to hit the showers. You game?"
I should have been exhausted after the workout, but instead I felt a sense of exhilaration. The high from the endorphins would carry me a good long while, especially after the refreshment of a shower. Roban and I grabbed spots under a four-nozzle spray unit, and we were soon joined by a couple of fireplug studs. A quick glance suggested that they were virtually identical, either bona fide twins or clones. Same high and tight haircut, a little longer on top. Same deep cleft in the chin. Same smooth, tan torso. Same big, brown nipples. Same ass that looked sculpted from marble. Same trail of dark hairs that led from the navel to the tidy patch of hair at the base of a thick, meaty cock. The only real way to tell them apart was that one of them had a leftward curve to his tool and the other one veered right.
"Hey," I said, "Dravid Skilling here. This is my buddy Roban Perl"
The leftie took my proffered hand. "I'm Vin Elko, and this is my brother Trevi."
"Nice to meet you," Roban said. "You guys serve together, or did you just luck out the way ugly and I did?" He gestured at me.
"We work together," Trevi replied. "Intelligence."
The Intelligence Corps, or IC, was famously tight-lipped, so both Roban and I knew not to ask any further questions about their service. But it really wasn't an intelligence briefing that we were after, anyway, and Roban didn't beat around the bush.
"So, you guys fuck around together? From the look of my buddy's hard-on, he's gonna blow if he doesn't shoot a load pretty quick. If you only want chit chat, we're gonna have to move along."
Vin laughed. "Didn't Trevi say we were in Intelligence? We scoped you two out as the hottest pieces of ass in the place the minute you walked in. Come on, there's a rest alcove over here."
We grabbed towels and dried off as we followed him over to a comfortable padded area that still afforded a view of the shower.
"We don't have much time," Trevi said, "there's a scheduled briefing we need to monitor, so let's just get down to it."
The brothers lay down side-by-side, head to butt. Clearly they had experience doing this.
"So are you going to fuck us or what?" Vin ordered more than asked.
Roban and I didn't have to be told twice. I was horny enough that I would have fucked just about anything, but here were two prime slabs of IC beef. I positioned myself between Vin's legs, while Roban took Trevi. I started by pushing Vin's legs back, and he helpfully pried his cheeks apart, exposing the winking target, delicately fringed with a scattering of sparse hairs. I paused briefly to get a quick taste of his delicious pucker, but it was penetration that I was craving. Positioning my fat, plum-colored head at his entrance, I slowly pushed through the tight ring.
"Oh, fuck," I grunted. "That feels nice."
Vin squirmed in pleasure as I guided inch after inch inside of him, just as Roban was doing to his brother. The twins reached over to play with each other's cocks as my old friend and I pumped into their guts, ensuring that we were all getting the stimulation that we craved. I don't know if it was my extreme horniness or the properties of the new Fecpod model, but I had never felt such velvety slick tightness before. It was truly a Grade-A fuck.
Like a drumbeat, my mantra began to repeat itself in my brain. Bigger. Stronger. Faster. Fuck, yeah. Bigger Cock. Stronger Cock. Faster Cock.
"Yeah, pump it in," Trevi groaned, urging Roban on.
Fucking Bigger Cock. Fucking Stronger Cock. Fucking Faster Cock.
"You like that cock?" I growled. "Hooyah! You want me to fill you up?"
"Yeah, give us those big Scout dicks. That's what we both want."
By that point Roban and I were long-dicking the shit out of them, pulling almost all the way out before plunging back in, burying our pricks to the hilt. None of us were going to last long at that rate. Readying myself for the home push, I braced my left hand on Vin's calf, pushing his leg back and opening him up, and I reached in with my right to grasp Roban's bicep. He did the same to me, locking us together in sweaty unison.
I looked straight into his eyes. "You 'bout ready to charge the hill, brother?"
He nodded wordlessly as we synchronized our rhythm and held our gaze.
Bigger. Stronger. Faster. Hoo-the-fuck-yah! Fucking Bigger! Fucking Stronger! Fucking Faster! Hoo-the-fuck-yah! Fucking Bigger Cock! Fucking Stronger Cock! Fucking Faster Cock!
My orgasm was like a gamma burst blasting out of my tool and blowing my brains clean away. I was planning to pull out and hose down my little IC stud, but he started cumming an instant before me, and once his ass clamped down there was no exit. My tool was locked in tighter than a Space Force docking port. I couldn't really complain, though, because the clenching muscles that lined his canal did a better job of milking out every drop than my fist ever could have.
Once the erotic shockwave had passed, I leaned in and locked lips, first with Roban, and then with Vin. It was only after coming up for air that I realized we had attracted quite an audience. The shower was full of men, alone, in pairs, and in groups, all watching our coupling, all in a state of high excitement. Now that we were done, they turned to each other and made use of their mental images of what they had just seen. All four of us needed another shower, so we walked among our witnesses, enjoying the view while we rinsed off. Trevi and Vin hurried off for their briefing, but Roban and I lingered and ultimately were successfully tempted by another round. It was a great way to begin a vacation.