“I don’t know what it is,” the woman was saying, “but whenever I go into the water I get so turned on.”
“Maybe it’s those moons,” the man said behind her, “or maybe the air. It smells different at night, and it seems to make me awfully horny.” His breath caught in his throat. “I think I’m coming!” he said hoarsely.
“I’m ready,” the woman gasped.
“Here I come!” the man shouted, grabbed her hips and slammed his belly hard into her fleshy cheeks. His buttocks clenched as he emptied his load into the woman’s shaking body. Her clawed fingers dug into the grass, and her cries of pleasure rang in Rosanha’s ears.
“That was some climax,” the woman moaned, her buttocks still quivering in the man’s groin.
He bent over her and took her breasts into his hands. “You ever come with Franco like that?” he asked, his voice breathless and hoarse.
“Never.” She was still trying to catch her breath. “How about Eilleene? Does she?”
“Eilleene? Not like you.” He kissed her neck. “Mind you, she’s not frigid, she’s quite hot, but you, you’re something else.” He began thrusting again.
She laughed. “You’re still hard. It feels good. But give me a moment, I have to wash myself first.”
“Now?”
“Yeah, now. I don’t know why, I just have to. I’m kinda itchy down there.”
He shrugged, pulled out. The woman got up and ran toward the lake. The man watched her; when she dove into the water, he turned. His eyes fell on Rosanha. “Hey,” he said, “have you been there all the time?”
Rosanha rose, stood uncertain, nodded. She realized she was not in the shadows anymore. The light from the two moons shone fully on her nude body.
“You’re Rosanha,” the man said. “I recognize you. You’re Mandy’s friend.” He came closer; Rosanha stared at his erection. “Have you been watching us?” he asked. His voice sounded strange, tight. “Did you like what you saw? Are you turned on?”
She didn’t know what to say. She recognized him now, Roger Ransum, the geologist. He was married to Eilleene, the biologist. A good friend of Rosanha’s mother. He stood in front of her now. She could smell his masculinity and it turned her on immensely.
“You’re Theresa’s little girl,” he said. “Not so little from close up. Nice tits.” He cupped one of her nubile breasts. When he kissed her, she didn’t resist, and when his hand reached down to touch her vagina, she only moaned. She felt his finger enter her, let him stroke her clitoris.
He broke away, laughed. “You’re all wet, you little vixen. I believe you want me to make love to you.”
She sank to the floor, opened her thighs to him. All rational thought left her, all she wanted was his big, stiff pole inside her aching belly.
He knelt between her open thighs, stroked her small breasts, her taut, flat belly, and rubbed his finger over her puffed-up pubis. Her eyes were glued to his penis. He noticed her look, chuckled, then he stretched out on top of her, guided his stiff mast between her inviting slim thighs.
She watched it disappear in her dark, fluffy triangle, felt the thick organ enter, cried out when he slid into her. She felt charged up from the encounter with the young man from Alpha-Colony, and whimpering she squirmed underneath the older man.
He crushed his lips to hers, kissed her hungrily. His thick pole moved in and out of her young vagina. “You are extremely tight,” he groaned. “I don’t think I can hold it long...ahh...NOW!” he shouted. He stopped moving, pushed deeper into her. She felt his warm discharge as he erupted inside her.
“Great Nova,” he moaned. “I think from now on it will be only young, tight honey-pots, like yours. Next time bring your two friends.”
Rosanha didn’t answer. She closed her eyes, her whole body shook in the throes of a huge orgasm. Whimpering, she raked her fingers across the older man’s back.
When it was over, she just lay there, eyes shut. He remained inside her, still stiff. After awhile she began milking his pole, letting her inner muscles ripple the length of the thick penis.
“You surprise me,” he moaned, “here I thought you were an innocent little virgin. Looks like you’ve had quite some experience. Who’s been sampling your little flower?”
“Nobody you know,” she said, “and I am not as experienced as you may think.”
“You’re sure fooling me,” he said hoarsely, “that thing you’re doing with your love-tunnel. You are a pro.”
“I’m a fast learner.”
He gasped. “Just keep doing it. Don’t stop. Here we go again!” He put his hands under her small round buttocks, held her in a tight grip and filled her up again. A delicious shudder went through Rosanha’s body as she experienced another orgasm.
He collapsed on top of her, breathing hard. “I don’t know where this stuff comes from. I can usually manage a couple of good ones. The third time I can hold it for quite a long time and then it’s nothing big. But with you, wah!” He rolled over onto his back, keeping her on top.
Rosanha sat up straight. She felt his penis inside her. It lost some of its hardness, but was far from being soft.
“How is your mother?” he asked. “I haven’t seen her for a couple of days.”
Rosanha shrugged. “She’s fine. I don’t see her much. She’s been busy, people have been coming down with some kind of rash.”
“She’s a fine doctor, your mother.” He looked at her; his fingers stroked her small breasts. She studied him and realized that he was quite a handsome man. A little too old, though, he must be at least thirty-five.
“Too bad about your father,” he said. “Do you miss him much?”
She shrugged again. “A little. I didn’t really know him too well, he was gone most of the time.”
“He was a scientist, wasn’t he?”
“Yeah,” she nodded. “I don’t know what he did, exactly. He worked mostly in space, checking out asteroids. That’s where he got killed.” She wiggled her bottom, giggled when he gasped. “Let’s not talk about him, let’s fogg.”
“Fogg...hmm.” he grinned. “I like that when little girls talk dirty.”
Rosanha began rotating her hips, snapped her pelvis back and forth. A female voice made her stop. “I see you’ve found a little playmate.”
Rosanha looked up at the woman. She recognized her now, Francesca Geomez, one of the botanists. “Hello, Mrs. Geomez,” Rosanha said, smiling innocently, “I’ve kept Mr. Ransum company. You want him back?”
Francesca glared for a moment, then she laughed softly. “This is too much. My husband screws your friends and my lover screws you. Are you even old enough to realize what you are doing, child?”
“I’m sixteen,” Rosanna said, “I’m not a child anymore, I’m a woman now.” She lifted up, feeling suddenly empty as the man’s thick organ slipped out of her.
Francesca looked at the stiff penis. “Well, at least you didn’t use him all up.” She straddled Roger, grabbed the stiff pole and fed it into her thick black thatch of hair. Then she sank down slowly. “Go, take a bath,” she said to Rosanha, “it’ll do you good.”
Rosanha stepped back, watched for a while as the older woman bounced up and down, watched her large breasts jiggle. Some day I’ll have breasts like that, she thought and turned toward the lake.
When she stepped into the water, she noticed something slippery slide down her thigh. She reached down, peeled it off. At first, it looked like a transparent piece of cloth, but then it began to contract itself into an oval egg-shaped ball with tiny tendrils protruding from its bottom. It moved, slipped out of her cupped hands and disappeared in the water.
She didn’t know what it was, but somehow it didn’t matter. There was something right about it. She swam for a while, and then went back to shore. The third moon began rising above the mountains. It was time to go home.
Chapter Seven
Exploration Team Delta
“Any luck?” Lieutenant Striker peered anxiously over the
pilot’s shoulder, hoping to hear at least some good news.
Space-marine Raymond Chu shook his head. “Sorry, Lieutenant, but I think this thing is fried. The lightning strike that hit the shuttle burnt a bunch of relays and the primary memory chips of the computer. We don’t have enough spare parts.”
“What about the transmitter?”
“Negative, sir.”
“What are you telling me, Chu?”
The pilot turned away from the controls. His almond eyes were even smaller than usual when he looked at the lieutenant. “We are stuck here, sir. For good!”
Striker suppressed a curse. He wasn’t quite ready to tell the rest of the team. “It’s been a week. Maybe the Old Man will send another shuttle to rescue us.” But he knew better, and so did Chu. There would be no rescue. Captain Cunningham would never risk another team, even if there were one.
The only other qualified pilot was Space-marine John Lambert, and Commander Beringer would not risk the life of another pilot on a futile search for a lost shuttle on an unknown, unexplored planet.
“We’ll have to tell the others,” Chu said.
Striker looked around the shuttle one more time, before he stepped outside. The morning air was crisp, cold, but fresh. There were some clouds forming in the sky, it looked like rain. If they were stuck on this planet, they would have to move, look for shelter in a more moderate climate, find a better, and safer location.
It was late summer, the nights were already getting cold. They would never survive a winter. The shuttle might serve as a temporary shelter, but they’d soon run out of food rations. They didn’t pack for a long stay, since the shuttle was supposed to bring new supplies for the research station with regular trips. In addition, without the computer the heating and air conditioning didn’t work.
That storm cloud they passed through on the way down, punished them with a series of lightning strikes. When one of those strikes knocked out the navigation system, Chu piloted the shuttle manually and sat it down on a huge, rocky shelf.
Striker looked to the peak of the snow-covered mountains in the north. Winter would bring heavy snowfalls, accompanied by strong gales of wind. One snow-slide could sweep the shuttle off the shelf, tumble it into the valley below. “No,” he thought, “we can’t stay here. Our destination lies south, away from these mountains. It will be a tough journey, but not impossible.”
He could hear the other team members laughing by the small pond that lay hidden behind a group of large boulders, in a glade sheltered from the wind by a row of stunted trees. Hating himself for being the bearer of bad news, he headed toward the sound of their merry laughter.
Breanna McGuinness spotted him first. She was the expert on alien life forms. She and a couple of other women were frolicking in the surprisingly warm water of the pond. He recognized Nurse Monaca Vargas and Dr. Liss. All three women were naked.
“Come, join us, Lieutenant,” Breanna called. “The water is beautiful.”
Striker smiled at her. Of the eight women, she was the most attractive. Not only beautiful, she was also smart and blessed with a pleasing personality. Some day she’d be the reason for much rivalry between the men in the team. Eventually couples would pair off. Since there were twelve men and only eight women, some compromises would have to be reached.
It would be best not to encourage couples pairing off, but to form some kind of commune, where a woman could choose any man she wanted, any time she felt like having sex. Or maybe they should form groups of three partners, two men, and one woman. That would leave two women without partners.
Oh, to hell with it, Striker thought. No sense to break his head over that now!
Three of the other women were sitting with a group of men, playing cards. He didn’t see Sara Golman, the biochemist, and Concitta Sanchez, the geophysicist. Neither did he see Professor Josef Banca, the geologist and head of the research team.
“What’s up, Striker?” Jeffro Remington looked up from the card game. “How are the repairs coming?”
Remington was one of the Security guards. Not military, he didn’t adhere to any protocol, and never called him lieutenant.
“I’d like to call a meeting. There is a matter which needs discussing.” Striker looked around the group, seeing suddenly anxious faces. He cleared his throat, never good at making speeches. “I’m afraid the repairs are not going well. Actually...” he coughed again, “...they’re not going at all. It looks like we’re stranded.”
“What the hell does that mean?” bellowed Ewor Gregorchuck. His field marine-biology and something else, Striker didn’t remember what else the big, beefy man did. His full head of thick hair and the wild beard lent him a menacing look. Striker didn’t know him well enough to make a judgment about his temper.
“It means exactly what it sounds like,” Striker said mildly. “We are stranded on this planet. There is no way the shuttle will fly again.”
“Surely they’ll come looking for us,” Remington said. “Have you contacted the research-station?”
“The communicator is also down. Damaged beyond repair.”
“This is not happening!” Rhea Rosetti threw down her cards and stared accusingly at Striker as if it were his fault. Rhea was one of the biologists. A small, but wiry, tough looking woman, hard to tell her age. She possessed one of those smooth, forever young looking faces. Quite pretty, too.
“Captain Cunningham would never leave us down here,” Gregorchuck almost growled. “This team is far too valuable.”
“There is no other shuttle of this class on the station. All the others are cargo-shuttles, meant only for transportation of people and materials. They were never intended for search and rescue missions. Besides, we don’t even have the personnel trained for that kind of work.” Striker surprised himself over how calm he felt.
Breanna, Monaca, and Dr. Liss climbed out of the pond and were standing behind the seated group, still naked, dripping water.
“So, what’s going to happen?” Breanna asked.
Striker stared at her heaving breasts. She sure is beautiful, he thought, momentarily distracted. He noticed her back on the station, but there had never been an opportunity to really get to know her. He felt attracted to her, and he got the impression the attraction was mutual. She kept looking at him with her green eyes and a challenging expression on her face.
“We have to move,” he said.
“Well, then let’s move,” Remington rumbled. “It’s too damn cold up here in the mountains anyway. Professor Tennenboum is probably wondering what happened to us and his supplies.”
“I’ll second that,” Rhea chimed in. “We can take the shuttle, fly it to the research station and try to fix it then. At least we’ll be more comfortable there. I hear there is a nice big lake near the station.”
“As long as that lake is as warm as this little pothole,” Dr. Liss said, and laughed. Her full name was actually Andrea Liss, but everybody called her Dr. Liss. She was a biologist, but also a very good GP.
Striker studied her for moment. Slim, tall, she kept her hair short. He noticed her full, sensuous lips, a trifle too large, but her dark, smoldering eyes made her look extremely attractive. It didn’t seem to bother her to prance around in the nude, thrusting out her small breasts on an otherwise trim, well-built body, and have all the men study her.
“I’m sure it will be warm enough.” Striker smiled, then became serious. “But it may be awhile until you’ll swim in that lake.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Because we can’t take the shuttle.”
“Why the hell not?” demanded Gregorchuck.
“As I said before, the shuttle has been damaged, we don’t have the necessary parts to make repairs. It won’t fly, ever again!” There, he said it!
“What do you mean by it won’t fly? It looks fine to me.” One of the other men, Acram Mian, broke into the conversation.
Striker shrugged. “There is nothing physically wrong with the shuttle. It may look f
ine, but it won’t fly. The computer has been damaged. We might get the shuttle into the air, but we can’t control it. Chu could explain it to you in more technical terms, but it won’t change the fact that the shuttle is not usable.”
“We can’t leave the shuttle. It is our only link to the station.” Breanna continued looking at him with that challenge in her green eyes. “How far is it to the research-station?” she asked.
He sighed. “One thousand kilometers, maybe two, I’m not sure. The electric storm we passed through scrambled all the instruments.”
“Do you at least know in which direction the station lies?” Dr. Liss asked.
“I think so, but again, I am not really certain of that either.”
“I just can’t believe this is happening,” Rhea said for the second time. “To think, I actually volunteered for this mission.”
“So did I,” Monaca Vargas said, contempt in her voice. “I replaced Mabel who decided to join Dr. McClary at Alpha Colony.”
“I still don’t understand why they can’t come and pick us up,” Rhea said.
“There is a lot of disturbance in the atmosphere of this planet. Even if our communication system were operable, there is no guarantee the space station could pick up our signals. Getting a shuttle through the disturbance is already challenging. If we ever want to colonize this planet, we’ll have to come up with designs that are more suitable. The electronic systems need to be isolated from the outer hull, for one thing, make them less vulnerable to electrical interference. I’m not an expert in these matters, my knowledge is limited. All of you were told there’d be a certain risk. There always is when landing on an unknown planet.”
“No one is blaming anybody,” Dr. Liss said, “at least I am not. It is just hard to accept our predicament. So, you suggest we move.”
“I don’t suggest it. I say we do. Our goal will be the valley below, we may have to spend the winter there, and then, in the spring, we can begin searching for the research station.”
The Xandra (Book 1): Daughter of the Dark Page 5