Date: Fri, 12 Nov 1999 16:03:38 -0500 (EST)
From: Felix Lance Falkon <falkon@netaxs.com>
Subject: "Spaceport Pickup" {Felix Lance Falkon} (MMM, gay SF-fantasy)
X-NO-ARCHIVE: yes
(except Nivty Archive)
"Spaceport Pickup" MMM, science fiction, outdoors in a park
and indoors in a residence, oral & anal sex
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[Usual warnings apply: no one under age admitted without parent]
[or guardian, for external use only, shake well before using, ]
[slippery when wet, this end up, use no hooks when lifting. ]
[ ]
[Copyright (C) 1999 by Felix Lance Falkon; you may save or make]
[paper copies for your own use; do not post, repost, publish, ]
[or archive except Nifty Archive without author's permission. ]
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(The ** starts emphasis [underline/italics]; * ends emphasis.)
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SPACEPORT PICKUP
by Felix Lance Falkon
Terry looked up from his seat on the park bench. ``Hi,
Garth. Find anything?''
``Shit,'' said Garth. He scowled down at Terry for a moment,
then settled his wide-shouldered frame on the park bench beside
Terry. ``This fucking planet is something th' fuck outa th'
twentieth fucking century. I don't wanta even think about it.''
Terry frowned, letting his gaze drift over his shipmate. The
loose uniform of a Space Patrolman couldn't hide Garth's athletic
physique. Terry took a deep breath, folded his arms across his
own well-muscled chest, and stared moodily at the purple-leafed
trees that shaded the park from this planet's sun. ``I even
checked out the swimming pool; at least this town's big enough to
have one. Garth, you are **not* going to believe this, but --''
``I'll believe any-fucking-thing about this mudball.''
``-- they wear **clothes,* in the pool. The men actually
wear short pants when they're swimming. I saw it with my own
eyes. **Clothes.''*
``Fuck it all,'' rumbled Garth. ``We're a lot of fucking
parsecs from Earth, but this is just fucking ridiculous.''
``Be a long two weeks, waiting for our ship to finish
getting serviced here.''
Garth sighed. He stretched his arms out along the back of
the bench, then let his left hand rest lightly on Terry's left
shoulder. ``Well, I dropped in on th' spaceport manager. He
wanted t' tell me all about th' scenic beauties of th' fucking
Misty Falls and RAM dump like that. Then I asked him, straight
out, where does a stud go for some quick sex. He spun his tapes a
bit, then gave me th' address of a fucking bar.''
``A bar?'' Terry wrinkled his nose. ``That's a weird place
for a pickup: drinks take the edge off your co^Ôrdination, and
then where are you? Or are you supposed to do your drinking
afterwards?''
``Worse'n that. I figured there was something th' fuck wrong
when I saw everybody in there wearing clothes --''
``You mean, they don't strip down so you can see what you're
getting into?''
``It's **lots* worse'n that,'' growled Garth. ``Women.''
``Huh?'' Terry sat up straight and stared at Garth. ``What
in Space are you --''
``Women. Gals. You know: females of th' human species.''
``Just -- just for a casual romp? If my wife ever did a
thing like that with another man --''
``And if **my* wife ever caught me even **thinking* about
a quick roll with another woman, she'd burn my balls off with a
fucking lase-gun -- and slow, **real* slow,'' said Garth.
``Mine too.'' Terry slumped back against the bench and
stared across the path, noting with a fraction of his mind the
people strolling past. He focused for a moment on a big, blond
youth in tight shirt and tighter pants, then Terry turned to
Garth again. ``How can the women here stand it -- their men going
out with a -- a **second*- hand woman?''
Garth snorted, then said, ``If they can put up with having
no place t' find a stud for a quick one, they'll put th' fuck up
with any-fucking-thing. He glanced at Terry, a far-away look in
his eyes. ``Remember th' way they do it on Gamma Centaurus IV?''
``Wasn't that where you checked your clothes, and then stood
in line so other studs could look you over for a spell.''
``Yeah -- and if nobody grabs ya in an hour, then **you* get
t' pick whoever th' fuck **you* want. Better'n th' deal on
W^Árfl's Planet, where they hand out tickets, and you gotta make
it with whoever's got th' same fucking number that you do.''
``You must have been there on a bad day or something,'' said
Terry. ``When I was there, the spaceport was full of lumberjacks
just down from the hills.''
``Good?''
Terry sighed, remembering. ``They were big and hung and
hard-up, and all eager for a round with a real, live Space
Patrolman.'' His gaze followed a sturdy, golden-haired youth for
a moment. ``I really got a workout there.''
``My trouble was that I got handed a ticket with th' same
number as one of my shipmates, and they wouldn't let us swap with
somebody else. Fucking Fomalhaut, but I wanted some **variety,*
not . . .''
``I know what you mean.'' Terry glanced at his shipmate,
remembering the weight of Garth's muscular body mounted on his
own. Terry felt Garth's hand tighten on his shoulder. ``After
being in Space for a while, you get hungry for some fresh meat.''
``Yeah, but unless we find some-fucking-body soon . . . Ever
been t' Werglath III? They got it set up so there's no fucking
chance that you'll pay for it: ya gotta strip at one of th'
locker houses, and then swim -- buck naked -- to th' island in
th'fucking middle of a little lake.''
``Sure, but then you get your pick of some nice, clean
studs. They're all real physical culture nuts -- and they look
it, too. Where my ship landed, they don't have an island; but
there was a big raft anchored in middle of the river and you have
to swim out to that.'' Terry's gaze wandered to a tall, broad-
shouldered youth; there was something familiar about that big
blond, but --''
``How 'bout Crucis 35? There, they **make* ya pay for it --
or sell it.''
``Ummm?'' Terry watched the blond youth in tight pants amble
by.
``Ya strip, and a couple appraisers look ya over, set a
price, and hang a fucking price tag 'round your neck. It's
usually raining there, but in the park, they got little paths
with roofs over 'em.''
``Who buys, then?''
``Same studs. I mean, ya get priced at fifteen, and ya find
a stud ya like who's priced at twenty: ya pay him th' fucking
difference t' make him.''
``Might be fun,'' said Terry. ``Still, I like the setup back
home: We're right next to a little forest on the edge of town, so
whenever the wife's out of sorts or I'm feeling 'specially hot, I
can trot over for a quick trick under the trees and maybe bring
him home for lunch afterwards.''
``Well, I'm right on th' beach, so I just leave my clothes
in th' closet and pop down th' back stairs and there th' fuck I
am. Th' wife likes t' meet th' studs I make it with, though; and
th' only time she got mad was when I brought in th' same surfer
three times running. But otherwise . . .'' Garth's voice trailed
off.
Terry glanced at his shipmate, saw that he was looking
intently at someone on the path that ran by the park bench. But
when Terry looked in the same direction, he saw nothing new --
just purple trees, a few people strolling along the path. A tall,
blond youth glanced at Terry, then at Garth.
``What's the matter?'' asked Terry.
``That blond stud.''
``Yeah? He's been by here a couple of times, come to think
of it.''
``Wearing real tight fucking clothes, too.''
``Yeah. Good set of muscles under them.''
``Hung good, too.''
``Yeah.''
The muscular youth slowed, then stopped. Terry licked his
lips slowly; the big blond did the same, a hint of a smile on his
face now. Terry hesitated, then nudged Garth and scrambled to his
feet.
``Huh?''
``Come **on,''* said Terry.
``Uh -- hi,'' said the blond youth. ``N-new in town?''
``Yes,'' said Terry, and was suddenly at a loss for words.
Garth put out his hand. ``I'm Garth.'' He and the youth
shook.
``I'm -- Wolfgang.''
``And I'm Terry. Hi.'' Terry held out his hand; the youth
had a strong grip. ``You're -- uh -- from around here?''
``I got a place just a block away.'' Wolfgang gestured.
Terry let his gaze run slowly down the youth's muscular
physique. ``Uh -- aren't you pretty tight down there, Wolfgang?''
Terry asked. ``You're -- so well hung . . .''
The big youth grinned happily, suddenly relaxed and at ease.
He patted the tight bulge at his crotch. ``It **is* pretty tight,
yeah. Maybe we could go to my place and -- relieve the pressure a
bit?''
Terry grinned back. ``Let's go.''
Garth laughed and started to unzip his shirt. ``Fuck yeah!''
``Hey -- wait,'' objected Wolfgang. ``Not **here.* Wait'll
we get to my place.''
``Sorry -- I forgot where the fuck we are.'' Garth re-zipped
his shirt.
Wolfgang led Terry and Garth along the path, out of the
park, and to a little 'crete-block house. Inside, Garth and Terry
waited until Wolfgang began to take off his clothes, then
stripped too. In moments, all three stood naked, hard-cocked, and
ready.
Terry stared hungrily at Wolfgang; stripped, the big blond
looked superb. ``Want to take us one at a time,'' Terry asked,
``or both of us at once?''
``A three-way? Hey, that'd be great!'' Wolfgang turned,
dived into a pile of pillows at one end of the room. ``Come on --
let's go!''
Terry and Garth glanced at each other, then jumped onto the
blond youth. They wrestled for a moment, then sorted themselves
out: Garth engulfed Wolfgang's cock and started sucking; Wolfgang
took Terry's. They disengaged, squirmed into new positions,
linked up again -- this time with Terry sucking Wolfgang and
Wolfgang sucking Garth's hard shaft.
Before anyone shot his load, they separated again. Wolfgang
said, ``Uh -- you guys are gonna have to show me stuff. I've done
things with guys, yeah; but just with one guy at a time.''
``You're doing great, stud,'' said Garth. He gave Wolfgang a
hug, then scrambled to his feet. ``Where th' fuck do you keep th'
oil?''
Wolfgang sat up, pointed, then lay back beside Terry and
asked, ``As hot as you are now, how come it took so long to --
you know -- get interested, back in the park?''
``Oh, that,'' said Terry. ``That was a first time for both
of us.'' He looked up as Garth knelt and began oiling up Terry's
and Wolfgang's hard shafts.
``What do you mean, a first time for you two?'' asked
Wolfgang. ``I thought you -- ah, that feels good!''
``Here's something that'll feel a fucking lot gooder,'' said
Garth. He capped the oil, set it aside, and stretched out on his
back beside the big blond youth. ``Climb aboard.'' Garth spread
his thighs wide and raised them high.
Terry watched closely as Wolfgang mounted. Garth tensed his
body against Wolfgang's entering thrust, then squirmed as
Wolfgang eagerly slid his prong in to the hilt. The blond youth
pulled back, thrust himself in deep again.
Wolfgang turned to Terry. ``Are you . . . ?''
Terry nodded, then knelt astride Wolfgang's thighs. He
leaned forward, guided his shaft into the muscular youth's butt.
Wolfgang was a tight fit; Terry thrust harder, and his glans
snapped into the blond. Terry eased the rest of his shaft into
the hot passage. He lowered his chest onto Wolfgang's broad back,
wrapped his arms around Wolfgang's muscular chest. After a
moment, Terry felt the big youth slowly begin to pump his shaft
into Garth.
``For a stud doing a three-way for the first time, you're
fucking near perfect,'' panted Garth.
``Real good at this end too,'' said Terry, as he began to
pump with his own shaft. ``Hey, Wolfgang . . .''
The blond raised his head, looked back over his shoulder.
``Uh -- yeah?''
``When we were in the park -- that was the first time we
ever cruised a stud with his clothes on. We didn't realize that
you were -- are -- available.''
``You sure know it now,'' said Wolfgang with a laugh,
gradually accelerating his stroke.
``I'm -- we're used to studs stripping down first, so we can
look 'em over already naked,'' Terry explained, thrusting faster
with his own hard shaft.
``Like I said,'' Garth panted, ``this planet is something
outa th' fucking twentieth century -- but with studs like this
under their clothes, who cares?''
``Yeah?'' Still accelerating his pace, the big blond asked,
``Uh -- when we've shot our loads, can we swap around and try it
again?''
Terry laughed. ``Wolfgang, I was just getting ready to ask
you the same question.''
``And after **that,''* Garth suggested from the bottom of
the pile of muscular virility, ``maybe we could wash off and then
suck some more cock. Right now -- let's fuck!''
================================================================
[Copyright (C) 1999 by Felix Lance Falkon; you may save or make]
[paper copies for your own use; do not post, repost, publish, ]
[or archive elsewhere without the author's express permission. ]
----------------------------------------------------------------
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