And it may take a week or so, until it happens but then you do truly understand. When you get here you’re just too busy and too excited and then you get your first glimpse, that’s it, you’re frozen, hence ‘zombie’. And you do believe you could look at it forever, but you have work to do and within the week you begin to notice it less and less. Then sometimes, and it happened with me, you begin to wish you couldn’t see it. It is the most awesome vista to behold but just reminds you how far away you are.
It’s a good job that they do keep you busy here all the time. Well, normally, all the time.
Life on the International Space Station is a strange affair. It’s never crowded but always seems cramped. I thank my lucky stars that I am only here for the one stint. I am only an astronaut by name, really just a passenger. Seven years of preparation for the launch into the depths of space for my probe, H.A.R.P, the High Attitude Reconnaissance Platform.
We have a two month window of three opportunities for the space launch. Three prime times, perfect moments lasting just a few minutes when the gravitational wells of Mars and Saturn are perfectly aligned to slingshot the probe out into solar system and into a stable orbit around Neptune or else it’s one of the most expensive pieces of junk in history.
The first two opportunities have been missed, one because of high solar flare activity. The second because of a technical hitch on the ground, a euphemism I’m sure for politics and P.R. There is still a week till the next prime launch point, but the omens don’t bode well. The best part of my adult life’s work is hanging in the balance so I’m nervous as hell to say the least.
There is a problem on board, not life threatening, but definitely life ‘uncomfortable’. All non-essential systems have been shutdown and the most power consuming of all, the Heat Exchange Environmental Control (air conditioning to you and me) is operating at the minimum. So it’s hotter than hell on board. It would be hotter except some of the stations internal systems would melt. Still here we all are floating in a tin can in the barest minimum of clothing. I’m down to just shorts and as none of my systems are essential and I am unable to help repair the stations own systems.
I am sitting at one of the viewing ports in the accommodation section with fuck all to do and bored out of my mind as well as completely frustrated. Even the spectacular view isn’t distracting me from the impending failure of my project.
Watching the world turn below me I hear the slap of skin on the handholds near the door. I gently turn to see Weaver float in through the hatch. She is quite small and yet dressed in, what seems to be; only a ‘tiny’ bright red T-shirt and loose fitting shorts. I inwardly groaned to myself. She is a very attractive woman, dark skin; very light blue eyes, small perky breasts and the standard NASA crew cut.
She’s my liaison for the trip and is totally business, seemingly unaware of how hot she is and how horny I find her. I try not to stare at her breasts as she glides towards me even though the T-shirt is soaked with sweat and stuck tight to her skin. Her nipples look painfully erect and must be half an inch long, I try to stop fantasizing about sucking on them.
“Hey, Bishop what'cha looking at?” she grins.
This is the first time I have seen her smile, normally she is totally business-like.
“Just looking down on China,” I reply.
She grabs the centre hand hold in the room and expertly swings to a stop. Hoping she doesn’t notice my eyes flick down, knowing that if it wasn’t stuck to her skin, her T-shirt would have continued to rise to expose her breasts underneath.
“You know you can’t see it from this orbit, technically you are still in the ionosphere if you can.”
I glance back through the portal watching the Asian landmass slide slowly beneath us. Turning back a confused look on my face, she grins again and pushes herself gently forwards.
“My bad, figured you were looking for the Great Wall.” Putting her hand out to the bulkhead to stop her momentum she comes to rest beside me. “Are you still enjoying the view?”
“Yes and no I guess.”
“Love it and hate it, I know what you mean. This is my third trip, and by far the longest stay, but I tell you when you are back down there…”
I look into to those cold steel blue eyes to see an emotion I can’t place.
“Well you’ll dream of this view and no matter how you describe it, the ‘mud’ people just don’t get it”
“Watch it!” I reply. “Some of my best friends are ‘mud’ people.”
She lets a light laugh escape her lips. Damn but I wanted to kiss those lips. She twists away and pulls herself down to sit on one of the bunks in the room. She lifts her tanned legs up to place them on the table, all her movements performed with the grace of a seasoned space farer. Her breasts sway gently in the zero gravity, no need for the support of a bra, a trickle of sweat rolling upwards from her cleavage. I lick my lips wishing they were sucking on those erect nipples.
She arches her back stretching her arms out, her ass rising slightly from the bunk, her shorts flapping slightly, my eyes glanced down instinctively. As I look up I swear that she has been watching me, though her eyes are now shut, she reaches her hands down and squeezes her thighs, massaging her muscles.
“You know I’ve never known it so quiet… it's strange how you never notice all the background noise of the equipment till its no longer going,” she says.
I cock my head and listen to the silence, apart from the occasional groan as the shell of the station expands in the heat from the sun, the lack of noise is incredibly unnerving.
“I don’t think I have ever known such silence in my entire life.” I hear my voice echo very faintly off the hard surfaces. “The middle of the night at the observatory on top of Mauna Loa seems noisy now.”
I even hear the soft whisper of her shorts as she twists her hips. Looking back at her I see her strong hands kneading her thigh muscles. “Are you okay?” I ask.
“Mmmm… oh… yeah. I just haven’t been this idle in years. Even the workout in the gym did nothing to help," she replies. “I feel so restless.” She rubs her legs back and forth against each other. "I just wanna get on and do something… anything.”
I feel a twinge in my crotch and realise my cock is starting to swell; lifting my left leg to obscure her view, praying that I am not going to get a full hard-on. She arches her back again and the short t-shirt rides up higher showing me the lower curves of her breasts and I know that I will have to sit here now till she leaves.
I look away, idly scanning the room when I notice the camera on the wall hanging lifeless for the first time. Normally it is always panning around, the little red LED permanently lit, but now it droops down dead. Instantly my mind jumps at the idea that whatever was to happen would be unobserved by the rest of the crew or mission control.
My cock twitches as more blood is pumped into it and the thought of fucking Weaver sticks in my head; I also feel my cheeks begin to blush.
Weaver looks at me. “The heat getting to you?”
“Err… yeah, I guess,” I stammer. That smile appears again on those delectable lips.
She shifts her position, placing her bare feet on the edge of the bolted down table and her ass against the wall and begins to flex her muscles. Mesmerized, I watch her thighs tense and relax, she shifts her feet further apart and continues her exercises.
My own thighs twitch as I want to float forward and bring my view round in front of her, to watch the tops of her thighs clenching and maybe get a view up the leg of her shorts. I settle for watching the side of her strong tanned leg, noting how her shorts appear to have tightened across her waist, I move my hand to surreptitiously squeeze my member behind my own raised thigh.
She’s gently biting her bottom lip when she looks across at me. “I hope you are doing your regulation exercises?” Her manner is almost all the way back to her total NASA business persona. “Honestly muscle deterioration can set in very quickly...” Her eyes flick to my chest and abdomen. “... and that would be a waste.”
I smile back at her, mirroring her eyes I gaze down her body. When I glance back up I see she isn’t fazed in the slightest. “To be honest this is the fittest I’ve ever been. Two years of grunt work and only did it to get up here. When I get back down I reckon the only part of the regime I’ll keep will be the swimming.”
She smiles as much to herself as to me and raises her arms above her head to press on the bunk above and begins to flex her arms and shoulders. With her eyes closed she asks, “So is this catapult..." She grins. "... drive thing of yours going to work or what?”
“What! Probably!” I reply. “Though, I should point out its official title is the Inertial Mass Drive… and yet we call it the ‘spud gun’.”
She bursts out laughing as I enjoy watching the zero-gee peculiarity of her breasts oscillating and thinking what could be done with nipple tassels in a situation like this and could I possibly get funding for the research. My mind slips into mass inertia ratios as I try to calculate an equation to predict all the factors involving Weavers’ breasts.
“What are you thinking about now, Bishop?” I guess my tongue was poking from my mouth as it tends to whenever I’m concentrating.
“What! Oh… err… mass, torque and … um… rotational co-efficients," I bluff.
“Oh!” she replies.”You must really love your math.” She smiles and deliberately looks down to my crotch.
I follow her gaze and see that I have dropped my thigh and there is absolutely no hiding the hard-on encased in my shorts. I feel the colour rise to my cheeks and open my mouth to say something.
“…”
“Well I reckon your time in the gym didn’t account for that muscle?”
“…”
She smiles wickedly. ”So those mass, torque, rotational co-efficients are used to calculate what exactly?”
“…”
She lifts her legs and pushes off from the bunk to rise to the centre of the room grasping a handhold in the ceiling to stop her forward momentum. “You do know that up here some of those equations adopt totally new…err, properties, don’t you?”
“…?” I gasp.
She smiles at me and folds her arm across her chest and lifts her t-shirt up and over her head. “For instance…” the sweat soaked t-shirt floats away across the room as she reaches to her large hard nipples. She slowly stretches them and then releases them to spring back gasping. Concentric waves radiate out from her nipples and bounce back from her chest to converge back on her areolae.
“…fuck” I breathe.
“Oh I hope so…” she answers to my statement.
My paralysis broken I push forward towards her completely misjudging my impetus. She grins as she takes hold of a hand hold and braces herself off the table. As I sail towards her she taps my right hip and releases her hand, wrapping it around my shoulder.
She pulls me into a twisting embrace in mid-air as her mouth moves to mine. Her legs wrapping expertly around my hips pulling her crotch against my hardness as she slides her tongue into my mouth. I wrap my arms somewhat clumsily about her as I kiss her back with equal passion.
We spin a foot above the table as my hands move to her ass to pull her even harder against me. Our shorts are hot and wet with our sweat as well as pre-cum seeping from the eye of my cock and juices oozing from Weavers’ pussy. Her strong legs pull rhythmically against me as she breaks our kiss.
“And there was me thinking I would have to wait until we were back on terra firma before I could get hold of you,” she says looking me in the eyes.
I slip my hands up into the legs of her shorts, caressing the bare flesh of her cheeks.