Skydancers

By Ken James

BI SEX IN DEEP SPACE

Deep space crews are a rare . . . super horny . . . breed. Locked in a tiny ship for months on end with no company but each other, they're always eager to take on a newcomer.

So, the crew of Asteroid Prospecting Ship "Skydancer" eagerly welcomes an innocent young engineer on board.

Passion explodes in orbit as the lusty spacers break in a new trainee.

Includes the short story "Her Bi Boy Toys." A ruthless executive introduces her innocent young straight partner to man-on-man sex.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ken James
• Release date: Apr 25, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005271831

Ken James

I was born in Denver and raised in Cheyenne, Wyoming. My first time with another boy was in my early teens. Girls came a few years later.After I graduated from the University of Wyoming, I spent a year as a roadie for a series of rock and roll bands, then moved to Austin to work for a computer company.I started writing in grade school and was a reporter on my junior high and high school papers. My lover (now husband) and I published a gay newspaper in Austin for several years.I've been writing gay and bisexual erotic fiction since 2003.I live in Austin with my husband Wayde.

Book preview

One

Ahmed Hardi scanned the stack of transport crates with his phone. The cargo the robots had loaded into the short-range shuttle matched the manifest. That's it. We're ready to go.

Good. Becca Cohen glanced at her wrist terminal. Seven minutes to launch. She smiled at Ahmed. You're very efficient. Her smile widened. I like that in a man.

Ahmed was a slender handsome dark-skinned man with short curly jet black hair, a closely-trimmed beard, liquid brown eyes, and a shy smile. He was only 25 standard years old and felt very lucky to be working for Black Sky Mining Corporation, the biggest mining corporation in The Belt. Admittedly, he was a sub-sub-contractor for BSMC, employed by Chandra Technical Services AG, but that was very good for a young electronics engineer.

I think we're going to work together well. Becca put her hand on his butt, giving him a towering erection. Very well.

Becca was a short wide woman, with big breasts and a pleasant face. A livid scar ran from her forehead to her chin and bisected her right eye, which was a high-res Zeiss Ikon model. Her knees, lower legs, and feet were gleaming black carbon fiber and she moved with the grace of a gazelle.

At first, her appearance had startled Ahmed, but her warm personality had dissolved his shock after a few minutes. He was no stranger to injuries, anyway. As a young officer in the Kurdish Defense Forces, his mother had been severely wounded defending the Turkish frontier and he'd grown up seeing her scars.

Becca was the Engineer on the Asteroid Prospecting Ship Skydancer. She'd taken him to supper last night to discuss his assignment: upgrading the ship's drones. They'd eaten at a nice, but not super-expensive restaurant a few decks below the rim of the BSMC headquarters disk. He'd joined her in drinking a bottle of wine. He usually abstained from alcohol, but wasn't that observant a Muslim.

They'd spent more time talking about each other than about the job. She was impressed that Ahmed had earned advanced degrees in Automation and Electronic Engineering from the Technical University of Tel Aviv after growing up in relative poverty in perennially war-torn Kurdistan.

Becca had multiple degrees in Fusion Propulsion, Environmental Systems, Remote Sensing, and Communications, as well as a PhD in Physics. She was 67 standard years old but, thanks to the Prolong therapies, appeared to be in her late 30s.

She'd been friendly, polite, and professional, but Ahmed had sensed a definite heat in the way she'd looked at him. He'd felt it too, as an uncontrollable bulge in his underwear. Deep space crews had a well-deserved reputation for lusty behavior during their brief times in port.

Ahmed's only relationship with a woman since he'd left Earth had ended three months ago. He rented a coffin—a low-gravity space near the spindle just big enough to sleep in—and used community facilities. That didn't do much to attract women. He'd been approached by a few men, but he wasn't interested in men.

After the meal, Ahmed had gone back to his coffin. She'd said she was going to her hotel, but he'd seen her taking the turbo lift to the section of the disk that housed the dockside bars.

He'd tried to sleep, but couldn't stop fantasizing about Becca. After a restless hour, he'd given up and paid to access one of the porn channels. Masturbating hadn't been very satisfying and his climax had been messy: long streamers of cum exploding from his straining cock, sailing upward in the lunar-strength gravity, and splashing the flatscreen mounted over his thin sleeping pad.

Becca spoke to her wrist terminal. "Requesting clearance for shuttle Querelle."

"Shuttle Querelle departure authorized, the device responded. Destination is APS Skydancer."

Their magnetic boots clicked on the deck plates as they entered the shuttle and walked forward to the cockpit. Becca took the pilot's chair and Ahmed sat at the copilot's station.

Automatic handlers moved Querelle onto the conveyor belt that carried the ship out of the BSMC manufacturing disk's zero-G counter-rotating spindle and into the airlock. The shuttle shuddered in its tie-downs as giant pumps evacuated the compartment. Sixty seconds to launch, the calm computer voice announced.

When the countdown reached zero, the cradle slid smoothly forward and the tie-downs unlatched with a solid thump, gently pushing the tiny vessel out into space. Behind them, the BSMC facility—linked headquarters and manufacturing disks—loomed like a giant's dumbbell with slowly-rotating kilometer-high weights.

Home again, Becca whispered. Ahmed tore his gaze away from the velvet blackness glittering with hard unblinking stars to look at her. It gets in your blood, she said. Once you've spent enough time in deep space, planets and space stations are confining.

Ahmed found the void overwhelming. It was Allah's way of showing him how little he meant to the universe. But yet . . .

Becca studied him in the dim cabin lights. I see it in you. You belong here too.

Well . . . Perhaps.

She laughed and gave his thigh a friendly squeeze. He hoped she didn't notice his instant erection, but suspected she did. You'll see. It'll just take some time.

My contract runs for another 16 months, he said. After that, I'll be a free agent.

Ready to launch, Querelle's AI announced.

Becca said, Initiate. She tightened her grip on Ahmed's thigh as the main engines came to life and a gentle force pressed them back in their chairs.

The engines cut out after two minutes, leaving them weightless. "On course for APS Skydancer, the AI said. Range: 1,237 kilometers. Estimated travel time: 43 minutes."

All right. Becca slid her hand up Ahmed's thigh. We can just relax and enjoy the ride.

Ahmed's heart pounded and his chest was tight. He'd only been with two women.

He'd met Sigrid in Basic Quantum Computing at University. She'd been pretty, somewhat shy, and as inexperienced and enthusiastic as he'd been. They'd learned together.

Loretta had been a BSMC Vice President of Orbital Logistics, who'd taken an interest in him while he was upgrading the equipment in her department. She'd appeared to be in her late 30s but, judging from her position, had to be well over 80. She'd been super-athletic, with a face and voluptuous body perfectly sculpted by talented surgeons and maintained by a squad of beauticians and personal trainers.

She'd been an aggressive and energetic partner. They'd committed almost every sexual sin in the Quran before she'd been promoted to Executive Vice President For Asteroid Belt Operations and transferred to the home office in Melbourne, Australia, back on Terra.

Two

Becca's hand on Ahmed's thigh was blazing hot. He put his hand over hers and said, Come here. I want to kiss you.

Oh yes! Becca ran her fingers over Ahmed's crotch bulge and then unstrapped from the pilot's chair.