Date: Sat, 3 Dec 2016 14:15:09 -0500
From: Milford Slabaugh <tommyhawk1@aol.com>
Subject: Birthday in Space

                        BIRTHDAY IN SPACE
                      By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
                  WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM
                   WWW.TOMMYHAWKSROGUEMOON.COM

     Captain Stephens sighed when his mother and father got off the screen
with a final "Happy Birthday, Son!" and he was able to get the subject back
onto the mission details. It was only the weekly check-in for his ship,
they'd gone from daily check-ins to weekly when his ship passed the orbit
of Jupiter, the strain on the ship's power packs was just too
great. Besides, barring a disaster of some kind, there was really nothing
to report!
     His crew waited until they were done and Houston Control had signed
off and when the screen went back to blue, it began.
     "Tomorrow's your birthday, Sir?" Lieutenant Garver asked.
     "Yep." Captain Stephens settled for saying.
     "How come you didn't let us know?" Commander Whittier inquired.
     "Because I didn't want to celebrate it." Captain Stephens let them
know. "I haven't celebrated my birthday since my divorce."
     That gave them pause and for good reason. Captain Stephens was only
thirty-two, but he'd married ten years ago, to a woman that had left him
four years later and proceeded to become a famous (infamous?) porn
star. He'd had to toe a line of moral rectitude that could belie his
ex-wife's reputation. He'd made it...but every so often, his past rose up
and bit him right in the ass...like now, for instance!
     "So how did you and your wife celebrate your birthday?"
     Captain Stephens sighed. Give it all to them and get it over with, or
they'd be snipe-probing him conversation-wise for weeks on end! "Well, to
put it bluntly, we had some incredible sex all day long. Serena (her stage
name was Santana Silk, but he refused to call her that, ever) would wake me
up by giving me a handjob. Whack me off before I was even fully awake. I'd
take the entire day off from duties and we'd go out on the town. When we
stopped for lunch, no matter where we were, Serena would slip under the
table and suck me off. I learned to pick restaurants where we could get a
booth in a corner for that! Then when we got home, that was best of
all. She'd push me down onto the bed, yank down my pants and climb on and
ride me to my third orgasm of the day. I always passed out after that,
sleep until the next morning. And yes, damn it, I miss that a hell of a
lot! One of these days, I'm going to figure out how, with all of that sex
between us going on, it still wasn't enough for her that she had to leave
me and go out and start selling her ass on video instead." Captain Stephens
got to his feet. "So now do you understand why I'd rather forget the day
even exists? Now, I'm going to bed down and try not to wake up until the
day after tomorrow. I still take the day off for my birthday, but that's
all I do. You three divide up the duties tomorrow among yourselves, how, I
don't care." And with that, he walked out the door. The quarter-G of the
constant-drive engine let him do this without the heavy stomping he wanted
to do, he bounced out of there instead. It would have to do.
     In his quarters, he stripped down to boxers and looked at himself in
the mirror. Hell, he was still young, no gray hairs he could see, he kept
his body in shape (you had to exercise hard in a quarter-G environment, but
it didn't push the body into the frailty that zero-G could. He looked at
himself, broad shoulders, chest coated with hairs the same russet-red color
of his head, showing off his pecs, abdominal six-pack, a face that more
than one magazine article had described as "movie star handsome" and with
all that, he couldn't keep the one woman he'd ever truly loved.
     "Damn it, Jeff, it's been six years, and you're still fucking moping
about it?" he asked himself. Well, if anything would let him get over
Serena, it was this trip, a two-year roundtrip excursion to Pluto and
back. Just a circle of the planet (you can't land on a snowball that
cold!), and back again, and not that much to do all the time, if you
couldn't think yourself out of a lost love in that time, you deserved to
mope!
     He got into bed earlier than usual and managed to fall asleep...to
dream about Serena and the fun times they'd had. He could feel her next to
him, the way she'd try to slip into his bed in the morning, ready to give
him that morning jerk! She'd learned that for the morning, when he was
groggy and languid, he didn't want any complicated loving, he just wanted
to get off and get off clean, and the best way to do that was a friendly
handjob!
     He could feel her soft hand on his cock, moaning, he loved how it slid
up and down, milking at his longjohn, he loved waking up like this, he
loved how.... His eyes popped wide open! This was no dream!
     "What the shit!" he gasped out.
     "Shhh!" came the voice. Hell, his light was out, the little nightlight
that wasn't a crutch in the total darkness of space but a raw necessity. On
Earth, there was always light coming in, you were never in the darkness
that was total, like it was now, where you literally could slap yourself in
the face and never see it coming! It was like being numbed,
disconnected. Even seasoned spacehands freaked out in total darkness
sometimes. Captain Stephens wasn't feeling freaked, he knew that this hand
belonged to one of three men. Men!
     "What the fuck are you doing?" He moaned. Feeling his body, his
bedding had been totally removed, as had been his boxers! He was a deep
sleeper, and it had worked to his disadvantage now.
     "Happy birthday, Captain!"
     Shit, if he could identify that voice, that would help. "Morrison? Is
that you?"
     "Mm-mmmh!" A negative sound.
     Hell, he guessed Morrison would be the one grabbing his cock if any of
them did. "Garver?"
     That only earned him a chuckling sound.
     "Whittier, God damn it! It is you!"
     Only another chuckling sound. And the hand hadn't stopped pumping on
him.
     "I'm going to beat the shit out of you, Whittier!" Captain Stephens
told him.
     The voice again, finally. "Two things, Captain."
     "What, what?"
     "First, I'm not Whittier." That whisper was so damned generic
sounding, it could be anyone, shit!
     "What, what? Garver?"
     "Second, if you want me to stop, why aren't you stopping me?"
     "Huh?"
     "I'm pumping your pud, and you haven't laid a hand on me to make me
quit. I think you're liking it."
     "I.... I.... Ah shit!" Captain Stephens just gave up and laid
back. Shit, this was his birthday! He loved getting a handjob first thing
in the morning on his birthday, didn't he?
     "That's better, now hang on, I'm shifting into high gear." And the
hand on his cock went into a flurry of motion, in the total darkness of his
room, all he felt was the pleasure. He could forget it was a man on his
cock if he wanted to. Did he?
     Shit, a handjob was a handjob! He hadn't even thought about Serena
when she did that for him, he just laid back and let the joy flow through
himself, and that was what he had longed for! Hell, this was just like what
she'd done for him. Did it matter if it was a man doing it now?
     "Oh, yeah, feels good, baby, feels good!" he groaned. "Come on,
harder, now, harder and faster!"
     "You got it, Captain!" And the voice came out of a whisper at last,
and he could recognize it.
     "Oh, shit, Garver, oh, SHIT!" His climax struck him at that moment and
he blew a hard wad upwards.
     "Oh, oh, damn!" Garver gasped. "All over me, man, you shot it all over
me!"
     "OH, AHH, AHH, AHH, AHHH!" Captain Stephens couldn't answer, he was
still spraying.
     "Oh, man, I'm getting bathed in it! Oh, man!" Garver moaned.
     "Ah, ah, ahhh!" His climax was over, he was still grunting, the way he
did when an ejaculation was especially satisfying, the body just kept on
giving out small joy signals for some time.
     He lay back, panting, and realized the bed was shuddering. "What? Are
you whacking it, Garver?'
     "Sir, I, uh, uh, UH-UH-UHHH!" And hot wads sprayed onto Captain
Stephens' bare chest.
     "Shit, Garver, shit!"
     "I'm sorry, sir, uh, uh, uh, uhhh!" Garver panted.
     "Crap, man, are you naked, too?"
     "No, uh, no, sir, I just unzipped."
     "Well, zip up and clear out of here. And fix my damned light while
you're at it."
     A scrabbling and zipping sound, then a few more noises, and the light
went back on, filling his room with a faint glow. Just enough to see a
little, enough to see Garver as he opened the door and got the hell out of
there.
     Captain Stephens got up and into his bathroom, turning on the
light. Streaks of white jizz lay across his chest, the same chest he'd
peered at the night before. He smirked at it, then said to himself in the
mirror. "Well, happy birthday!" he told himself. And cleaned himself off.
     He had himself a day off, so he decided to do whatever he liked, but
found himself mostly on schedule. Went to breakfast with his crew, and
found himself cracking jokes and telling stories to the men. His mood was
better than it had been in some time, frankly. Nothing like a good morning
handjob to put a fellow in a positive frame of mind.
     He spent the morning in a few friendly handball games with the men,
quarter-G made the game superfast and heavily challenging, then went to
shower off. Lunchtime, soon, he decided again to spend some face-time with
his men. He was spending too much of his time on the shipboard routine, his
men needed to see him, know him. Being standoffish was fine for a captain
on a ship with hundreds of men aboard, but with only the four of them, he
was cutting them off from a lot of potential social interaction, which
couldn't be good for morale.
     So he settled in and smiled when presented with his meal, a tortilla
chip decorated like a birthday cake, including the words "happy birthday"
on top in hot sauce.
     "Wonderful, wonderful!" he praised their efforts and slouched back on
his chair, splayed out his legs and held the tortilla up in his hands to
enjoy eating it.
     A few bites into it, he felt it. Someone under the table, crawling up
between his legs. He wasn't far enough back from the table to be able to
see under it easily, and looked up at Garver and Morrison. That only
left. "Whittier?"
     His jumpsuit was being unzipped, and he didn't have to think much
about what was coming next. His story about his birthdays with his ex-wife,
for his birthday, his crewmen were giving him a chance to relive it...with
them!
     "Aren't you enjoying your meal, Sir?" Morrison asked him, barely
supressing a smirk.
     "I think I'm about to enjoy it more than ever."
     "Getting to the good stuff, eh?" Garver asked.
     His cock was being taken out now, Whittier had it in his hand. Shit,
he was getting just as hard as he had in that fancy French restaurant where
he'd taken Serena on the last birthday of his marriage. The waiter there
had suspected (or seen) what was going on and had stood above him and
talked about the menu while Serena had blown him.
     "I think so." Captain Stephens took another bite and chewed it. A
little too much hot sauce, but there were a lot of letters in "Happy
Birthday" so it had to be expected. "Man, that's the stuff all right."
     Whittier's mouth had slid down on Captain Stephen's cock now, and it
was warm and wet and soft and loving on him. Oh, shit, he thought as his
pleasure rose in him again. Just like when he'd been married, exactly the
same.
     "Sir, if you don't mind working for a moment, I have some questions
about the maintenance schedule this week." Garver asked.
     "Certainly, uh! Certainly, go ah--, uh!, go ahead!" Captain Stephens
grunted. His cock was humming just like it had in that French restaurant.
     Garver droned on about the various minutiae of maintaining a ship that
basically regulated everything they needed to live. Captain Stephens strove
to make sense as question after question hit him, yes, it was okay to
increase the algae tanks' production so they could increase fertilizer
production for the hydroponics garden, more fresh vegetables would be nice,
yes, yes.... But his mind was really on the pair of lips that were bobbing
up and down his shaft!
     He gripped the edges of the table as his passion built up in him.
     "Is something the matter, Captain?" Morrison asked him in all
pretended innocence.
     "I'm, uh, I'm fuh, fuh, fine!" he gasped. His climax was bubbling up
behind his eyeballs.
     "Maybe we'd better take you to the medic station and check you over."
Garver opined.
     "I think he's having trouble breathing?"
     "Is that it, Captain, are you having trouble breathing?"
     "We'll have to give him oxygen!"
     Oxygen, hell, he was coming! He gripped the table and spurted his
second huge load of birthday jizz into Whittier's sucking mouth, oh, God,
he was coming like it was his first experience, he was unloading like he'd
been a virgin all these many, many years.
     And in a way, wasn't he?
     He finished, panting hard, and the men laughed as they looked at their
captain's flushed, sweat-sheened face.
     "Maybe he had a mini-stroke." Garver guessed.
     "Fuck you." Captain Stephens said, but in a tone that kept it from
being anything threatening.
     "Oh, no, that's tonight." Morrison told him.
     "Yeah. Tonight." Captain Stephens agreed, too bemused by his climax to
think about what he was saying.
     He spent the afternoon enjoying some of the latest movies from Earth,
they'd been squirt-radioed to the databanks just a few hours before and
he'd just noticed them on the database printout. Earth was like that,
keeping the men aboard ship guessing about such things, the anticipation
was a part of the entertainment, after all.
     A tap on the door interrupted his third such movie. He'd eaten his
dinner at the ship's small theater, and realized that it was nearly nine
o'clock at night. "Yes?"
     "Sir, there's a situation that's developed." It was Morrison. And he
was looking serious as he could be!
     "What? Where?"
     "It's in my quarters, sir, can you come look at this, sir?"
     "But what is it?"
     But all Morrison would say was, "Come see it, sir, come see it."
     He got to Morrison's quarters, it was a facet of the shipboard life
that Morrison's quarters were the same size as his. Living on a ship
fulltime for years meant that a man couldn't be pigeon-holed into a small
space for his personal life, he needed a fair-sized room for it. Enough
room to be an individual.
     But everything inside it looked fine. "I don't see what the problem
is." he said, turning to Morrison.
     "Not a problem. A situation." Morrison clarified, as he approached
Captain Stephens.
     Too close, Captain Stephens backed away, found himself with the back
of his legs against the bed.
     "Oh. And what can I do about it?"
     "This." And Morrison shoved him in the chest, and Captain Stephens
fell on the bed.
     "What the...." Captain Stephens got out before he found Morrison's
hands at his fly. "Oh, oh!" he had semi-forgotten what he'd realized that
lunchtime, his men were re-enacting his birthday rituals for him. It was
time for the third sexual session.
     So he let Morrison push back the jumpsuit and expose his cock and
squirt lubricant all over it from a tube and rub it all over. Then Morrison
skinned out of his own jumpsuit and Captain Stephens was unsurprised to see
that Morrison had "gone commando" that day.
     "A gross violation of clothing regulations, you know." was his only
response as Morrison climbed on top of him, now totally nude. Sat on his
chest.
     "So write me up for it." Morrison said as he reached behind him and
guided Captain Stephen's dong into his ass.
     "I will, and your punishment is...."
     "Yes?" Morrison began to worm that thick dick into his butt.
     "...is a half hour of hard exercise. I recommend you get started right
now, bounce up and down as fast as you can and don't stop for anything."
     "I think I can do that." Morrison began to writhe up and down, sending
Captain Stephens' prong deep into his anus at every thrust. Morrison's
mouth fell open, his eyes closed, his head thrown back, a long, low moan
slid from his throat as he rode his captain's cock, and Captain Stephens
just laid back and let his crewman ride his pud, just like Serena had done
for him those times. He'd had it then, and now he had it again, oh, God, it
was so goddamned magical! A magical birthday again, so sweet, so fucking,
fucking sweet!
     After two heavy climaxes earlier that day, he needed the full half
hour's ride by Morrison to climax, but Morrison was indefatiguable, he
never let up during the entire period. An advantage to a man who kept his
body in shape; he could go and go and go!
     As Captain Stephens' climax built up in his body, he shuddered. Not in
fear or hesitation, but in a rising glory. He felt more than human, he felt
invincible, he felt powerful, he felt...immortal!
     "Ah-AH-AH-GAH-HUH-GUNNHHHHH!" A third major orgasm washed over him,
thrashed him against the jagged rocks of his senses' limitations, and
washed him ashore as a battered husk of his former self. His load poured
out in a heavy load that drained back down over his cock and balls, and
soaked his scrotum and sheets beneath in a lush flood of jism-backwash, and
as he came, Morrison let out a long moan and hot spunk sprayed liberally
over Captain Stephen's chest, reached up to his neck at one point, and left
three rays of white love-juice over the midnight blue of his
jumpsuit. Morrison finished and laid down on top of Captain Stephens.
     "Oh, man, that was terrific." he breathed on Captain Stephen's strong,
heaving chest.
     "You were terrific." Captain Stephens amended.
     "Happy birthday, Captain."
     "Yes. Yes, it is." Captain Stephens agreed. Yawned heavily.
     And was asleep in a moment or so more.

                             THE END
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