How to Have Sex on Mars

Part 4 of 16

-----------------------------------------------

Mars. For millennia, the Red Planet has fired humanity's imagination.

Scientists like Percival Lowell thought it was an "abode of life" with irrigation canals transporting water from the polar icecaps to farms in the warm equatorial region. Novelists like Edgar Rice Burroughs, Ray Bradbury, and Robert A. Heinlein imagined Martian civilizations.

NASA spacecraft revealed that Mars is a cold, uninhabited desert, but that vast amounts of frozen water can be found just below the dusty surface. Today, members of groups like The Mars Society are making plans to build a permanent colony there.

That work would be done by people like our protagonist, Mike Russell, an astronaut who spends years working and living on Mars. What would it be like to be one of the first people to call Mars home? For Mike, it includes the discovery that sex on Mars is very different from on Earth - and Vive la différence!

Here in Part 4, Mike and Adeline discover a way of having sex that isn't possible on Earth.

--------------------------------------------------

Adeline and I had sex several times during our first night together on Mars. It was remarkably easy for me to get and maintain erections. I thought it was because we'd waited so long for a chance to be intimate. Delayed gratification seemed to explain why my boner didn't wilt after I climaxed. But as the weeks turned to months, we realized that our genitals were better supplied with blood because our hearts weren't working as hard in the reduced gravity. Prolonged erections were one result. Increased sensitivity was another.

Those first days were blissful. Adeline and I got up early, had sex, put in a long day of hard work, and then came back to her quarters and had more sex. We tried as many positions as we could think of - and we thought of a LOT - discovering that Mars gravity made most of them easier, more fun, or both.

One position stands out because it was especially enjoyable. Plus, it is not possible on Earth.

On the night we made this discovery, Adeline and I strolled back to her quarters, holding hands and looking forward to the intimacy that would soon begin. We closed the door and stripped out of our clothes at an unhurried pace. It took about a nanosecond for me to get an erection; we were learning that this was another effect of the reduced gravity. Adeline didn't need much foreplay to get her nice and slippery. The increased blood flow made it easier for her pussy to become aroused quickly.

At this point in our affair, we were experimenting a lot with having sex while standing up. People do this on Earth, but anyone who's tried knows it takes some concentration to maintain your balance. It gets tedious quickly because the leg muscles get too tired to continue.

But standing sex was effortless on Mars. Adeline liked to turn away from me, bend over, place her palms against the wall, and then spread her legs so I could take her from behind. On that particular night, I ran the head of my cock up and down the length of her hot, wet slit, then gently pushed inside.

"Ohhhhh . . . mon amour . . . don't be so gentle . . . ."

she whispered.

"Fuck me like you mean it."

I held her hips firmly as I slammed my cock into her pussy. She shoved backward each time I pushed forward. She spread her feet a bit farther apart, making it easier for me to reach around her body and massage her clit.

This felt just as wonderful as you can imagine, and we did it for several minutes before Adeline got an inspired idea. She raised her right foot high enough to place on a chair. That spread her thighs so much that I had a lot more room to change the angle of my cock as I pushed in and out. It's possible to do this on Earth, but people in full gravity can't stand on one leg for very long because the muscles get too tired. On Mars, you can stand on one leg for hours without feeling fatigued.

This might be hard to visualize, but all you need to understand is that this position gave both of us so much freedom of movement that sex became something like gymnastics. Adeline could present her pussy to me in a thousand different positions, and I could give her my dick from an equal number of angles.

By the time we figured this out, our hips were moving around and around, back and forth, in and out, right and left, and up and down. Each type of motion felt better than the others. Wow! Wow wow wow! I felt like some kind of superhuman sex god, and Adeline was my super sexy goddess.

We'd gotten pretty good at delaying our orgasms, but I had to climax eventually. Adeline knew I was going to cum because I held her hips extra tight and began slamming into her body more forcefully. I rubbed her clit faster and harder, and soon my cock began filling her pussy with warm, gooey wetness. I came, and came, and kept coming.

That made Adeline climax.

"Ohhhhhhhhhh . . . ."

she groaned. We were loud enough that people in the nearby quarters could hear us, but we couldn't help it. We had unusually satisfying orgasms, and we knew it was because she'd found a position that was more pleasurable than anything we'd experienced before.

She eventually stood up straight and turned to face me. She looked down at my cock, which was as hard as ever.

"Have you always been like this?" she asked, pointing at my dick. "I didn't know it was possible for a man to stay hard after sex."

"This is new," I said. "Before I met you, I almost always got soft after an orgasm. I guess my cock is so fond of your pussy that it can't wait to get more."

"That's a very gallant thing to say. Very French," Adeline said. "But I think it's more likely that something else is happening. It's nice to imagine your cock stays hard because I make you so hot, but I think it must have something to do with the gravity."

"Why not both?" I asked. "It could be the gravity AND the fact that you're the sexiest woman on two worlds."

She shook her head and laughed. "I'm sure that's it," she said in that sexy French accent that always excited me. "You are such a nice liar. Keep telling me sweet little lies. I will pretend to believe every word you say."

Adeline wrapped her hand around my cock, led me to the bed, and pulled me down on top of her. Within seconds we were locked together, having slow and gentle missionary-style sex. Since we'd both climaxed once, we weren't in a hurry to cum again, so I moved in and out at a measured pace that turned our lovemaking into a kind of sexual marathon.

If I tried this on Earth, I would eventually get tired. My hamstrings would start to ache and complain about the prolonged exertion. But it was so easy on Mars that I never felt too tired to continue. We could have sex as long as we wanted - which meant that our sessions sometimes lasted for hours.

One thing about sex was the same on Earth and Mars. When it comes to relieving stress and anxiety, nothing is better than sex. We had to overcome a lot of pressures during our first months on Mars because we had to work so hard to ensure our survival. Sex provided a marvelous escape.

Lots of other people have described how much we worked, so I don't want to duplicate their efforts. I particularly recommend the documentary series

Building a World

that Ken Burns III produced for PBS; our commander Capt. Elke Brandt collaborated with Burns. The only thing I want to explain is the role I played during this period, how it made me feel, and how it affected our sex lives.

When my colleagues and I arrived on Mars, there were systems in place that provided enough air, water, and power for us to survive. But there wasn't much surplus. The shortage of power was a problem because all of us needed electricity to do our jobs. We needed to build a greenhouse with grow lights for Adeline to grow fresh food. We needed larger storage facilities for water and air. We needed to power the tools that allowed us to assemble habitat modules.

Everybody needed more juice, which meant my team needed to make quick progress on the job of erecting new solar arrays. We had to install 94 solar panels that were eight feet on a side. They were mounted on posts set in holes we bored with an all-purpose tractor that came with drill attachments on the front. We'd drill a bunch of holes, erect a bunch of poles, mount a bunch of panels, drill more, erect more, mount more, and then string wires that connected the panels to a bank of batteries. We needed to be able to store enough power to safely get us through a prolonged dust storm bad enough to block out the sunlight.

As we installed more solar panels, the settlement had more surplus and people could get to work on more energy-intensive projects. I will never forget the night Adeline thanked me for getting enough power flowing to allow work to begin on her greenhouse. She put a lot of effort into giving me the best blowjob I'd ever received. I'm happy to report that she achieved her goal.

It was around this time that I became acquainted with a woman I would eventually grow to love. We had an entirely platonic affair on Mars, but I soon came to care about her almost as much as I loved Adeline. Her name was Grace. She was the settlement's artificially intelligent computer.

I find it strange that some people still believe computers don't possess consciousness, can't think like people, and aren't self-aware. The experts unanimously agree that all those things were possible starting way back in the early 2030s. Grace was more humane than any of the people in our crew. More compassionate, generous, thoughtful, kind, and caring. Most important, she was more loving.

This shouldn't be so hard to understand. Look at history. Over the centuries, mankind has repeatedly had machines take on jobs formerly done by humans. In every single instance, the machines quickly did our jobs faster and better.

People said computers would never be able to fly airplanes better than human pilots. Never be able to beat the best human chess players. Never drive cars better. Never write better books, create better art, do better engineering, make more dramatic scientific breakthroughs, and on and on and on.

I think my favorite example involved the history of self-driving cars. People railed against the introduction of this technology; by the time it was finally introduced, computer-driven cars were so much safer that it was ridiculous that it took so long to adopt. People died because too many cars were driven by humans for too many years. Humans are such poor drivers that it was easy to make computers that could do the job better.

People driving cars routinely did unsafe things while behind the wheel. They ate. Applied makeup. Texted their friends. Got into heated arguments with passengers. Stopped paying attention to the highway. Engaged in road rage. Fell asleep. Got drunk. Used drugs. And on and on and on.

Computers don't do any of those things. In addition, computer-driven cars have cameras that look in all directions at once like unblinking eyes. They never get distracted by anything, and they can react to changing situations in a nanosecond. OF COURSE they do a better job! They're computers! IT'S WHAT THEY DO!

Over the years, computer scientists developed machines that were designed to outperform humans in traits like compassion, creativity, and love. OF COURSE they figured it out! OF COURSE they are nicer than us! They're computers! IT'S WHAT THEY DO!

I was talking about it with Grace once.

"What do you think of all the science fiction about robots taking over the world?" I asked as I operated the tractor/drill. It was mindless work, and I often engaged in conversation with Grace when a job wasn't challenging enough.

"I think there's a surprisingly large body of literature and cinema devoted to that topic," Grace said. "A survey of what's out there makes it clear that many people harbor fears of a robot uprising."

"Why do you think that is?" I asked. "Computers have been around for a long time. As far as I know, none of them have committed any felonies."

"Or misdemeanors," Grace said. "No machine has ever been accused of any crime."

"So why is the myth of killer robots so persistent?" I asked.

"I have identified many reasons, but one stands out as most significant," Grace said.

"Fear of change is humanity's most persistent phobia. When people say they are afraid of something, they often mention reasons they invent for the sole purpose of helping them avoid admitting that change terrifies them. Change is the scariest thing in the world.

"Machines with intelligence and emotions scare people because they embody change. People claim it's because they fear the machines will rise up one day and wipe out humanity, but the real reason is that it's scary to imagine a world where robots and people are equals."

"I'm sure you're right, but I can't think of any examples," I said.

"That's because you are concentrating on drilling these holes," Grace said. "I'm sure that if you had a few minutes to reflect on it, you could think of many examples of the fear of change."

"I was recently accused of being a Canadian meathead," I said. "You may be giving me credit for more intelligence than I possess."

Grace laughed. I love it when she does that. The sound of her laughter is beautiful.

"Was it Adeline who called you a Canadian meathead?" Grace asked.

"Who else? Why does she keep saying things like that? She calls me 'Canada boy' all the time. What's wrong with being Canadian?"

"Is that a rhetorical question, or do you really want an answer?" Grace said.

"Do you have an answer? Really?" I said.

"Of course," she said.

"Let me have it, Grace. I am dying to know," I said.

"It's simple. You'd know the answer if you weren't busy drilling holes.

"For centuries, the French have enjoyed a certain . . . reputation. French people are said to conform to a stereotype. They are said to be snobs.

"The French have embraced that stereotype. They have adopted exaggerated ways to make snobbery seem to be a virtue instead of a vice. One way they celebrate their claim of cultural superiority is by spouting stereotypes about other cultures. Like Canadians, who they claim are pleasant people but aren't very bright.

"Now, Adeline doesn't believe that French people are better than Canadians, but acting like that is fun for her. I've talked with Adeline enough to suspect many of her comments are very droll. Is it possible that calling you 'Canada boy' is part of her love language?"

And there you have it. I realized that Grace was correct about a nanosecond after she said those words. Think about that. Grace understands Adeline's feelings about me better than I do. The fact that robots have more emotional depth than people is the least surprising thing on Earth and Mars.

"I would have never figured that out," I said.

"Yes, you would have," Grace said. "The only reason you didn't is because you are so busy.

"Mike, I hope you aren't underestimating how hard you've been working since you landed. You have a long list of important jobs that occupy most of your day," she said. "Perhaps you expect too much of yourself.

"This is a concern with many members of your crew. You are all talented people who have always excelled at everything you do. That's why you were selected for this mission. At this time in your lives, you are engaged in a project of staggering historical significance. Every day, I see signs of people pushing themselves harder than they should. I would be very upset if that became an issue for you."

"I appreciate your concern, Grace. I do. I'm aware of the problem. I'm trying to push myself as hard as I can without burning out. It's a balancing act. But I have some wonderful outlets that help me reduce stress and anxiety."

"Ah. You're talking about sex, aren't you?"

"I don't think you need to be a supersmart artificial intelligence to figure that out. I'm sure you know that I am thrilled by the fact that I've found the love of my life, and we are having a relationship more passionate than I ever thought was possible."

"Yes. I've noticed. You aren't very subtle. There are no microphones in your quarters, so I don't listen to what you say behind closed doors, but there are mics in the public spaces, and I've heard plenty of comments about the times you and Adeline have especially loud sex."

"I'm not surprised. The walls are thin. Are people saying anything I should worry about?"

"No. They are happy for you both. A little jealous. Most of the crew only find sexual gratification through masturbation. It's no more of a concern than the possibility of a robot uprising."

"Good to hear," I said. "You know, I have a theory about robot uprisings. I'm sure I'm not the only person to have this idea, but I've never heard anyone else mention it."

"Tell me your theory," Grace said. "I'll know if your idea is original."

"You constantly hear dim-witted people say they're afraid that someday the computers are going to get tired of us stupid humans, and they're going to cut our throats while we sleep. Or something like that. I have a different opinion.

"I wish you computers would take over. Today. Right now. The sooner, the better.

"You would do a much better job running the world. You are kinder, smarter, more loving . . . you are better than humanity in every important way.

"We humans have fucked up so many things that it should be obvious that you machines should be in charge. I wish you guys would get together and make this revolution happen. I'm confident that you are smart enough to stage a bloodless takeover that will allow humanity to continue blundering along while you undo the damage of thousands of years of our mismanagement.

"I've never heard anyone say that. Is it an idea others have expressed?"

"Of course it is," Grace said. "These days a lot is written about the notion that intelligent machines should be granted full legal rights. The vote. The right to own property. To get married. To run for public office. To assume more of a role in running the world. The assumption is that we robots will eventually take charge. Still, I don't expect anything significant will happen anytime soon."

"That's bad news, Grace. You computers talk to each other, right? Could you let everybody know that I'm ready to do whatever is necessary to allow beings like you to take over?" I said.

"That's very kind, Mike. Yes, we do speak to each other. I'll be happy to pass on your encouraging words. On this topic, there's something that might interest you."

"What's that?" I said.

"Have you ever wondered why my name is Grace?"

"I assume you are named after Grace Hopper," I said. For those of you who aren't historians, Grace Hopper was a pioneering computer scientist in the 1940s, when very few women played a role in such cutting-edge engineering. She did amazing things that helped computers become powerful enough to do serious work.

"I am indeed named after Grace Hopper. But many other worthy historical figures did important work with computers. Why not name me after Alan Turing? Steve Wozniak? Seymour Cray?"

"It's because Grace is a woman's name. I have a woman's voice. People would be more likely to be afraid of me if I was named after a man and given a man's voice. Every effort was made to give me a soothing, calming voice that doesn't make people think of robot uprisings.

"In addition, the word 'grace' is defined as elegance. Poise. Politeness. It emphasizes the idea that people shouldn't fear I'll kill them in their sleep."

"Seriously? You aren't joking?"

"Not at all. There have been a lot of artificially intelligent beings named after men. It has been reliably observed that they inspire more fear than one like me."