The Lost Colony

Chapter 44

As before, Sparr slipped into a near trance. Aine didn't vary her technique. Most women would switch between strokes, ball sucking, and licking. Aine didn't bother. There were no gaps, distractions, or transitions, just soft warm lips slipping up and down his shaft. Sparr had been taken deeper before, but not by much, and rarely by someone so focused. Slowly, he began to drift toward orgasm, his free hand clutching at the sheets.

"Not yet," Aine said. She removed her mouth from his c**k only long enough to caution him. "I told you I like men who can last."

Sparr snuck a glance at the water clock. By now, roughly half of the blue liquid had trickled through the lighter green liquid. He had held on for perhaps ten minutes. "Slow down then," he groaned.

"Nhhh, nhhh" she said, her words muffled by his c**k, before managing, "show some control."

"Don't you want to f**k?" Sparr asked.

"Tomorrow night," Aine said. She resumed her blissful work on his c**k.

Sparr sat half up, propping himself on his elbow. He reached for Aine's other breast, giving it a merciless squeeze.

"Fuuuuck," Aine gasped. "Yeah, like that," she said, half sobbing.

For a moment, Sparr regained a measure of control. By pawing and squeezing Aine's heavy breasts he interrupted her rhythm, and slightly delayed his own release. At the same time, her willing acceptance of his rough treatment was arousing. He had earned a brief reprieve, but couldn't postpone the inevitable.

"Nhhhhhhhhh," Aine groaned. She slipped a hand into her loose trousers. Her body shuddered. They would both c*m.

"Oh goddammit," Sparr gasped. He tried to resist, but Aine's soft lips, expert tongue, and complete dedication to extracting his load were too much. Surely, he thought, few men could hold out as long. Somewhere he passed the point of no return. He was seconds from filling Aine's mouth with seed.

"Mhhhhh," Aine groaned again, unwilling to take her mouth away from its task. Her fingers were busy against her c**t, her body trembling.

"Oh f**k!" Sparr cried. "Oh f**k, oh... oh s**t. I'm... oh, goddammit!" He gave Aine's breast a final, cruel squeeze. "I'm, fu, fuh, fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!" He came, blasting weeks worth of thick c*m into Aine's mouth.

"Nnnnnh," the brunette groaned. Somehow she held onto his c*m.

"Ahhhhhhh," Sparr groaned. One hand scratched and clawed against the sheets while with the other he maintained his iron grip on Aine's offered flesh. The orgasm roared through him, carrying him helplessly along.

Aine went stiff, holding her lips against his pulsing rod, while her own orgasm claimed her. "Mmmmph," she said, voice muffled by c**k and c*m. Then, as the throes of ecstasy became too much to manage she lifted herself from his c**k. "Fuuuuuuuuck," she groaned, mouth agape. Globs of c*m dripped free, some splattering against Sparr's c**k, some dripping to her heavy, tormented breasts. "Nhhhhh!"

Sparr collapsed, his grip on Aine easing. "Ahhhh," he groaned, as the wave of ecstasy finally ebbed. "You emptied me."

Aine trembled through the last of her own release, c*m and saliva dripping from her panting mouth. "Fuuuuck."

Sparr let his eyes slip from Aine's voluptuous, heaving body, to the liquid timer. "Sixteen minutes?" he guessed.

Aine nodded mutely, still catching her breath.

"Is that good or bad?"

The brunette stared at him another moment. "It's good," she said, finally. She wiped away a glob of c*m from her breast, before licking it from her finger. "Tomorrow night you'll f**k me for at least that long."

Aine dressed, and after giving Sparr a sweet kiss, departed for her own cabin. The boat pitched and rocked gently beneath him. He was drained and content. Sleep wasn't far away.

***

"Once more, each of you. And this time under one minute. Longer is just unacceptable."

Captain Fowler faced aft, looking as comfortable in the jumpseat as he did in an Alliance briefing room. There were other zero-gravity trainers on staff, but the veteran led the sessions himself more often than not. Sparr suspected Fowler simply enjoyed the flight.

"Two minutes," the pilot announced. Aetos, the Alliance zero-gravity aircraft, first climbed to a dizzying altitude then plummeted, giving those aboard several minutes of weightlessness. Odysseus crew and passengers had already trained in massive pools, and in a sprawling hanger while wearing magnetic suits. Nothing mimicked the disorienting sensation of true weightlessness.

"Happner, you're up," Fowler said.

Kevin unbuckled, squaring himself to the mock airlock adjacent to Captain Fowler. Like the others, he would have to complete a set of tasks meant to simulate an emergency evacuation. The drill was difficult enough in the close fitting flight suits that they wore during other drills. Wearing the bulky pressure suits made the drill next to impossible.

Gravity slipped away as the Aetos dropped into its arcing descent. Sparr felt his stomach drop away.

"Go!" Fowler shouted.

Kevin kicked forward, propelling himself toward and through the airlock. The cabin remained pressurized during the flight, but contained a facsimile of a corridor, airlock, and escape pod like those carried aboard the Odysseus. Fowler, Sparr, and the others watched through the hatch and via a screen at each seat.

The mission to Kaybe wouldn't be Kevin's first, and it showed in his execution of the drill. Hooking his feet deftly just inside the hatch, he tugged loose the dummy meant to represent a disabled crewman. He pushed it forward, pausing to also grab an oversized medical kit from its storage bay. Double encumbered, his passage through the rest of the airlock was torturously slow.

Sparr glanced at both Calista and Tracee. The latter offered him an exaggerated, goofy wink, but Calista was intent on her screen, scrutinizing Kevin's progress. During the first round, Calista had recorded the second best time, just a few seconds slower than Kevin. Without doubt, she was eager to improve.

"Time!" Fowler said, sharply. Kevin had just finished securing both the dummy and the medical kit into the faux escape pod. "Fifty-four seconds. Very good, Kevin."

Calista mouthed a curse.

Next up was Tracee. Her compact size gave her an advantage navigating the confines of the airlock, but her strength was barely up to the task. Even weightless, the dummy and medical kit were cumbersome. By the time the petite woman had lugged them into place she was over the one minute mark.

"You'll have to work on that, Rask," Fowler muttered. "Brandt, your turn."

"Captain, I thought that perhaps this time Mr. Sparr would-"

"Brandt! I said it's your turn. Go in fifteen seconds."

Calista bit back her objection, snapped on her helmet, and was ready when Fowler gave the word. She kicked forward, snagged the dummy, and tugged it free. The blonde was at least as long of limb as Kevin. With her free arm she snagged the medical kit and kicked again toward the escape pod. Only the usual difficulty lugging both the kit and the dummy slowed her.

"Fifty-two seconds!" Fowler announced. "That's a good time, Ms. Brandt."

Sparr prepared himself. He had completed the drill several times prior to his last mission, and held no doubts that he could complete it under the one-minute mark. Proximity to Calista had, however, sharpened his competitive spirit. He decided to try a new strategy.

When Fowler gave the sign, Sparred kicked forward through the first hatch. However, unlike the others, he bypassed the dummy to first grab the medical kit. With both hands free he easily tugged it from its storage bay. Then, with a motion born from years of basketball, he tossed it toward the far hatch.

The kickback from the throw nudged him back toward the dummy. Sparr grabbed it, kicked, and almost before the medical kit rattled through the far hatch, had caught back up with it. He locked both into place and closed the hatch.

"Forty-nine seconds!" Fowler said. "Nicely done, Sparr."

Even on the tiny screen inside his helmet, Sparr could see the man almost smiling.

Later, Sparr and Tracee shared a shuttle back from the airfield to the Alliance compound. After their night of tipsy s*x, the friendship between the two had deepened, even if Tracee hadn't yet pursued a repeat.

"Hey Planet," Tracee said suddenly. Planet was the nickname she had given Sparr. "She claim you yet?" It was no easier guessing when Tracee was serious than it was guessing which wave would break farthest on the beach.

"Claim me?" Sparr asked, tearing his eyes from the rich Florida vegetation streaming by.

"Calista," Tracee explained. "You obviously aren't familiar with Rask's law of attraction."

"Enlighten me."

"Well, it's just so obvious," Tracee said, flopping back against the shuttle's contoured seat. "You and I got together, right?"

"I faintly recall, yes."

She kicked him. "And people saw us leaving the Terrace Bar together that night?"

"Probably," Sparr agreed. In fact the two had raced out together, raising more than one eyebrow.

"So Calista, brilliant, ambitious, and dull corporate drone that she is, has probably, through the rigorous application of logic, figured out that I explored Planet Alain."

"And Planet Alain," Sparr added, "was happy to be explored."

"Right," Tracee said, nodding emphatically. "So now Calista has to make her own claim."

"I see," Sparr said. "So Calista's competitive instinct will kick in. She'll throw herself at me, rather than let Rask Intergalactic Enterprises be the sole claimant for Planet Alain."

"It's 'Rask Pan-Galactic Enterprises', but yes," Tracee said, "and you're welcome."

"Okay," Sparr laughed. "And what makes you think I'm interested in a dull, corporate drone like Calista?"

"You are," Tracee said. "You like her t**s. I'm sure we've established this."

Sparr just shook his head. He smiled. Tracee was always good company, even if her moods and motivations were opaque.

"Oh, I meant to ask you, what's the one-year rule?"

"What?" Sparr asked, surprised at the new direction their conversation took.

"Speaking of claims, I heard Calista and Kevin talking about something called the one-year rule. I think it had to do with the mission."

"Oh, yeah," Sparr said. "It has to do with how the Alliance contracts are written. Companies like K2 Genetics and K2 Mineral have one year to make their first claims. After that, it's wide open."

"Wide open means anyone can submit a claim? Why have a rule like that?"

It had been some time since Sparr had even considered the question. "Well, it's to prevent a company from sitting on a claim. The Alliance wants to support the development of a planet's resources. If I don't make a claim within one year then they assume that K2 Genetics is holding onto a find. That doesn't do anyone good."

"Well, what if you die before you make your claim?"

"Uh, thanks Tracee," Sparr said, wrinkling his face.

"It's a serious question."

"Okay," Sparr said, waving his hands defensively. The extended reality lenses that corrected and enhanced Tracee's damaged vision sometimes made her difficult to read. "If I die then the contract can be modified. K2 Genetics can renew it, or sell the rights. It's only when I'm alive but for some reason don't make a claim that the contract is voided. Same for K2 Mineral."

"So, when I kill you for the molds you find..."

"... be sure you hide the body," Sparr said.

"Noted!" Tracee said. She grabbed his c**k, giving him a hard squeeze just before the shuttle arrived.

Sparr exited the car carefully, trying to hide his erection.