"You know, Bill," Nomi half-hisses, "no matter... hunnnh, no matter how many times it happens, there's something about, oohm, something about having the commander of aaaa, hoo, a U.N.S. capital ship, in uniform, on his knees, eaaaaaaaaah, eating my pussy that just gets my engine gooooH GOD OHGOD ogodogodogodeeeee eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee..."
Commander Grubenski keeps a firm grip on her bucking hips as he tongues her through her first orgasm of the evening. He doesn't pull his face back until she finally stops thrashing and slumps back against her chair, panting, dress pushed up to her waist, carefully arranged hair in complete disarray.
"Well, by naval regs a captain outranks a commander, and I don't want to be written up for failure to perform."
"God, small chance of that." She leans forward and grabs him for a long kiss, his face still slick from his efforts. "Thanks for wearing full dress. You look so hot with your little brass buttons and ribbons. Get up. I want to taste your cock."
Bill stands up in front of her and lets her work the fastenings on his slacks. He closes his eyes as she pulls his heavy penis free and begins to tongue it to hardness.
"Mmm. Such an industrious little miner. I hope our next posting includes a lot of stasis, it's hard to contemplate three years without this."
Nomi slips her mouth over the end of his penis, applying gentle suction. Feeling a little grateful and a little wicked, she takes his hands in hers and firmly plants them on the back of her head, then lowers her own palms to her lap. She looks up at him with wide eyes, still gently sucking on the head, and waits.
Bill looks at his little miner, a little surprised by this turn of events. Nomi is usually the driving force in their encounters, and generally he's content to match her. He gets enough of people following his orders in his day job. Still, the invitation is plain, and tempting. He starts slowly, pressing further into her mouth as her lips provide a little resistance and her tongue moves busily. He finds her depth when he's a little more than halfway inside her, and curls his hands in her hair to slowly pull her head backwards.
Nomi is enjoying the experiment. Bill is gentle (maybe too gentle), and she loves that he's directing her for his pleasure. He is moving her head back and forward his cock at a slow, steady pace, being careful not to go too deep, mindful of her comfort. One of her hands drifts to her mound, and she begins lazily stroking, her eyes half lidded as he slides back and forth through her lips with almost hypnotic rhythm. She applies judicious suction at opportune moments, listening to the small catches in his breathing to guide her efforts.
She falls into her own rhythm, making rapid motions with her tongue against his shaft. When he's sliding in, she makes three quick little outward pushes. When he begins to draw out, she reverses directions, and her tongue makes three quick little drawing pulls, trying to give him as much friction as she can.
In, pushpushpush.
Out, pullpullpull.
His eyes are closed when she looks up at him, his face still a little shiny from earlier and his hair mussed where she'd mauled it in her passion. He's resplendent in his full dress uniform, generally reserved by regulation for state dinners. Little medals glisten on his chest, dangling slightly with his motion. Brass buttons glisten on the curved edges of his dress jacket, and another straight line of them run down the middle of a white waistcoat buttoned around his still-trim torso.
She can picture how they must look, the stern commanding officer with a little grey at his temples, his woman in her fancy evening gown, now rucked up around her waist, garterbelt framing her hips and the curve of her bare buttocks, on her knees with his fists curled in her hair as he uses her mouth for his pleasure.
Nomi imagines what little Ensign Clarke would think about this scene, with her obvious crush on her commander and her eagerness to please, and begins to rub herself more swiftly.
----
Grubber is nursing his scotch and enjoying the pleasant warmth of the young woman at his side when Stella returns to the booth in fresh stockings carrying a bottle and a shot glass. "The room will be ready in a few minutes."
"Woman, do you know how old I am? I need three days and a steak dinner before I'd be good for any more of your shenanigans."
"Old man, don't try to tell me my business."
She puts the shot glass in front of him and fills it from the bottle. "Drink that."
The miner eyes the dark liqueur swirling inside of the shot and picks up the bottle, but there's no label. "What is this?"
"Let's call it round two. Trust me."
"All right, but if my heart gives out you gotta make up a good story for my captain. Cheers." He lifts the shot to his lips and throws it back.
"Bleagh! Tastes like mashed lilacs and iodine." Despite his complaint, Grubber can feel something happening almost immediately.
Across the table, Stella sees his eyes briefly dilate and his breathing quicken. His hand tightens around the girl at is side. "There you go. Better hurry and take him back, he's not going to be much for talking in a few more minutes. Take good care of him. I don't want to see either of you till breakfast."
The young whore draws Grubber out of the booth, and indeed, he doesn't seem interested in conversation anymore. He stumbles slightly as she guides him to the back of the bar, through an opening and into a dimly lit hallway lined with doors. Approaching one, she lets them in, and guides the slightly disoriented miner to an overstuffed recliner, which he gratefully falls into.
"Sor... sorry sweetie i... dunno about..."
She ignores his disoriented mumbles and begins tugging his clothes off, which he tries his best to help with. He's a little ashamed this beautiful girl seeing his well-worn skin, but not ashamed enough to protest when she shimmies out of her outfit and into his lap and proceeds to make out with him.
In between kisses she whispers in his ear.
"...just relax..."
"...just let me take care of you..."
"...did you like it when Stella said you could be my grandpa..."
"...do you want me to call you grandpa..."
"...grandpa..."
"...grandpa what is this..."
"...is this your cock, grandpa..."
"...it's getting so hard..."
"...do you want me to touch it, grandpa..."
"...do you want me to suck it..."
Grubber groans as her mouth slips over his now painfully sensitive erection. He can feel every slight movement of her tongue as one of her hands plays in the salt and pepper hair of his chest while the other one gently massages his balls. In almost no time he's erupting into her helplessly, hips bucking as the young professional finishes him off. When he's done she lets his softening penis slip out of her mouth, curls up in his lap and begins to kiss him again.
"...that was so good, grandpa..."
"...you did such a good job..."
"...did you like that..."
"...did you like cumming in my mouth, grandpa..."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"...just wait, grandpa..."
"...just wait a little while..."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"...see..."
"...it's getting hard again..."
"...are you ready, grandpa..."
The whore positions her slim hips over his apparently immortal erection and begins to slide down onto him. Grubs is so sensitive at this point it borders on pain. Once she finishes mounting him, she leans forward until her weight is resting on his chest and begins to whisper to him again as her hips start working.
"...ooh..."
"...is that good, grandpa..."
"...do you like fucking me..."
"...do i feel good..."
"...do..."
"...oh..."
