A Smuggler's Adventures

I know you must have some pretty romantic notions of what it means to be a smuggler -- but have you ever considered what it would be like to be stuck in a spaceship for weeks, ferrying cargo from one god-forsaken planet to another, with no one but the ship's AI to keep you company? I assure you, it's dull enough to make you question your sanity.

Consider. What is there to do, out there in deep space? I know you've heard tales of swashbuckling captains who dodge pirates on a daily basis. And while there's an element of truth to those stories, most of the time it's going to be you, sitting in your pilot's chair, looking at the monitor. And what is the monitor going to show you? That every system is within acceptable limits. That the ship is exactly on course. Space can be very boring.

So, it's just you and your monitor. And what do you think you'll be doing with all that free time? Should I spell it out? You'll be spanking the monkey. Petting the one-eyed weasel. You know. Fapping.

On the first days of your trip, you'll start with some of the vanilla stuff: beautiful women and men touching each other in all sorts of loving ways. The kind of porn where the women might as well be movie stars and the men are unrealistically jacked. And then, as the weeks go by, the vanilla stuff is just not going to cut it anymore. Given the amount of jacking off you're going to do, you're going to find yourself slowly escalating to the filthy stuff. Gangbangs. Rough sex. Degrading dirty talk. Spankings, blackmail, incest, people enjoying things they don't want to do, the whole lot of it.

"Jackie," I once asked the ship's AI, "how much time have I spent watching pornographic material over the past week?"

"Retrieving data....Captain, you have averaged four hours and fifty two minutes per day."

"How does that compare to your previous captains?"

"Your numbers are slightly above average as compared to the seven captains I have served over the past two decades."

Well, that's me: slightly above average.

All of this is to say is that when I finally arrived on Omega, via a circuitous route that took me through weeks of deep space and happened to avoid every customs agent in the sector, I was quite eager to obtain some release with a living, flesh-and-blood human woman. And so, after negotiating my landing fee, I immediately made my way to the courthouse stocks.

Have you ever heard of Omega? It's a space station abandoned by the Union a century ago and reclaimed not long afterwards by a conglomerate of corporations. As a piece of real estate, it wasn't especially desirable, which is why, in spite of the usual statements of condemnation -- how dare those evil corporations be up to their usual tricks -- no one found it worth their while to stand up to Omega's governing council. Omega is a libertarian's heaven, with a few notable exceptions, as I'll explain in a moment.

The stocks were in the basement of the courthouse. You might be expecting something out of a medieval movie, but, in fact, the courthouse steps brought me to an ordinary-looking office corridor. Only the robotic riot suppression unit standing guard at the entrance hinted something was unusual.

I should explain they take debt collection very seriously on Omega. If you can't pay, the court will order you to work for your creditors until you are able to pay back your loans. And if the quickest way for you to pay everything back, in the infinitely wise judgement of the Omega court system, is to trade sex for money, then that is what you will be doing, whether you like it or not.

I walked up to the touchscreen and began browsing through the profiles of the women on offer. As expected, most of them were not my type. Lots of girls with prominent tattoos; unnaturally colored hair; or the kind of emaciated profile that comes from drug consumption. Good on you if you like that sort of thing, but it's not my taste.

I was almost ready to leave when I came upon one profile that wasn't bad at all. Nicole was a curly-haired black lady in her early forties. Full lips, luscious eyebrows, and flawless brown skin. She was pretty, the sort of woman that would make me look twice if she were walking down the street. Her menu was unfortunately rather sparse: titjobs only, the profile said. I looked over her pictures, all clothed, and she did seem to be quite ample in the bosom. The price, 300 bits, was on the high side, but I'll be flush when I finally get around to delivering the shipment in my cargo hold.

I paid -- which, annoyingly, required about ten minutes of setting up an account and answering a range of verification queries -- and, following the instructions on the monitor, made my way to a room at the end of the corridor. "Hi there," I said, opening the door and stepping in.

She was kneeling in the middle of the room, her knees on some kind of cushion, arms handcuffed behind her back. In person, she was just as pretty as her profile pictures.

"Hello," she answered, looking me up and down skeptically.

I've been to these things before, so I know the etiquette: you just get down to it . Walking over, I pushed aside the blazer she had on, and pulled down her top. Her tits sprung out, unencumbered by any bra.

They were spectacular. Just imagine the biggest knockers you've ever seen -- except firm and upright and smooth, with small but perky nipples. I was salivating just looking at them. These babies were made to be used by men.

"Shall I just get started?" I said unzipping my fly.

I was only asking to be polite. She was going to sit there, handcuffed, while I fucked her tits and came on her face. There was nothing she could do about it. But asking seemed like a nice thing to do it.

She sighed. "There's some oil on the counter."

I sprayed some oil over her, stuck my cock between her tits, and pressed them together. My dick was already hard. After weeks of space fapping to all manner of filthy smut, this is exactly what I needed. Mind you, I could have gotten an escort, or arranged to pay for sex in a myriad other ways. But I wanted to get off with a pretty girl who had little choice about it.

"So how'd you end up here?" I asked conversationally as I was thrusting my dick between her boobs.

"It's a long story. Mostly, my loser husband and his gambling debts."

"That's too bad," I said, grunting a little. The feel of her tits was amazing. "Gambling addiction is a real problem."

"Tell me about it. We're stretched so thin trying to pay our daughter's college tuition. So why the fuck does he go to the casino?"

I pulled my dick out from between her tits. Wanking it with my right hand, I began kneading her magnificent mounds with my left.

"How long have you been here?" I asked

"Five days," she said. "I've probably got about six left before my debt is paid."

"Lots of customers?"

"Eight or nine a day, maybe."

I pinched her nipple. She glared at me -- technically speaking, light nipple pinching is allowed during a titjob, it's in Omega regulatory code (this is the kind of stuff it pays to know well round these parts). But it's widely considered a bit rude.

"Don't worry," I said. "I'll give you a good tip." She nodded, and I pinched her again.

There was something erotically charged about this beautiful woman, standing on her knees in front of me, having no choice but to let me play with her tits. Maybe part of it was the age difference: I am in my mid-twenties, so she is a good fifteen years older. I've always liked older women, perhaps because they've always seemed unattainable when I was younger.

"Is it weird to have people you know come by?" I asked, sliding my cock between her tits again.

"Yeah," she said.

"Really goddamn weird," she added after a moment's pause.

"Want to tell me about it?" I was getting hornier and hornier. The look of my cock, which was milky white, nestled in her soft brown boobs, was intensely erotic.

"Not really," she said.

"Come on," I said. "If you help me out, I'll return the favor."

She looked at me appraisingly for a moment, then sighed, and looked away.

"Fine," she said. "Well, really it's what you'd expect. An ex of mine came by, claiming it was for old-times sake. Yeah, right. Umm, an old high-school teacher of mine. I was in his class twenty-five years ago, but I guess he saw my photo in the announcement and he remembered. That was a little embarrassing. Also, one of my husband's coworkers. That I don't care about so much. Serves my husband right."

I started thrusting harder against her boobs. All this talk was turning me on.

"The most humiliating," she went on, "was one of my daughter's ex-boyfriends. Just two months ago I made him dinner when she brought him home. Yesterday, he fucked my tits and came all over my face."

"That's really hot," I said.

"He was kinda nice about it," she said. "Said he thought I was really attractive and couldn't pass up the opportunity. It was extremely embarrassing, but a little hot at the same time, you know?"

That was just too much for me and I started coming. It went all over her: on her tits, of course, but also on her face and neck and hair. I have to say, she looked really good with my jizz all over her.

"Well, thank you very much," I said. "That was lovely."

"Sure," she said. "Now are you going to give me a nice tip?"

"Oh yeah," I said. "I'll give you a good tip sweetie."

I pulled out my touch pad and sent a 1000 bits her way. When she saw how much I gave, her eyes widened.

"Wow," she said. "Ummm...wow." She paused. "You know, you are welcome to come back any time. You can abuse my tits as much as you want. And I'll tell you about anything you want to hear."

"Tell you what," I said, "are you done for the day?"

"With that tip, hell yes I am."

I looked her over. She seemed like a pragmatic woman. I'd probably be on Omega for a while, and her tits would make for welcome stress relief.

"Why don't you go home and freshen up a little. Then, come evening, go to my ship." I named the pier where I was docked. "Maybe I can purchase out your debt."

Her eyes widened. "That would be wonderful."

I reached over and scooped up some of my semen with my finger, and deposited it in her mouth, which she eagerly sucked, never breaking eye contact. Then, pinching her nipple once again, I turned and headed for the door.