Date: Sun, 1 Nov 2020 20:43:52 +0100
From: Daniel Comnenus <daniel.comnenus@gmx.com>
Subject: Space Colony Chronicles (part 8)

SPACE COLONY CHRONICLES (8)

By Dolphin Dan


*** This story takes place against the backdrop of an alternate history
where, after the U.S. Apollo Moon landing program ended in 1972, the United
States and Soviet Union, and eventually other countries, joined together in
a massive concerted effort to build a large Earth-orbiting space station
capable of sustaining a significant human population in space. This
alternate history explores a trajectory of peace and cooperation that was
not taken, instead of a course of antagonism and conflict that, in the real
world, was. Peace and cooperation is always better than war and conflict.
[/Dolphin rant OFF Execute Program Space Colony Chronicles 8.0] ***


In the one summer in college I got to spend back home on the space station,
Cooperation 1, I got hot for and eventually started fucking Javier, the son
of the administrator of the Argentine section aboard the colony. He was way
too young for me, still in early high school, but he was so magnetically
attractive at least to me and he was a really sweet boy. Despite the "dark"
look, Goth eye shadow, painted nails and such, Javier was just a
sweetheart. You should have seen him with his younger siblings. He played
games with them and made jokes and was as charming as ever. A couple of
times that summer his family had me over for dinner. We pretended we became
friends by meeting at the record store, as we liked a couple of the same
bands. Javier's father was a smart, well-educated and politically powerful
man. He spoke English and in fact had studied at Cambridge in England. Part
of me feared what would happen if someone found out that I was fooling
around sexually with his 15-year-old son. I was 20 that summer. Fortunately
no one found out.

At first Javier and I didn't do much because there just wasn't a lot of
opportunity. We jacked each other off at the movies that first time, and
that happened again a few more times mainly because it was all we could
think of. You don't realize how little privacy there is on a space
station. Everything's cramped together, doors are hatchways that have to be
sealed shut to prevent air leaks, offices and apartments are small, walls
are thin, and basically everybody knows your business. Plus, on a space
station, you can't really go anywhere. Living in a normal town almost
anywhere on Earth you can always find somewhere else to be, a trip to take,
an errand to run, or just drive your car around. There were no cars on
Cooperation 1. You could not take a vacation in the normal sense. If you
deviate from a normal routine people wonder immediately where you are. This
is hard for people to understand. It was an almost impossible to find a
place to be alone, especially if you were trying to keep a relationship a
secret from family members, co-workers, teachers or station administrators.

Toward the end of the summer, though, we finally got a chance to be
together for real. There was an international conference of station
administrators and their staff, at the Hilton hotel that had just opened
up. Javier's parents were invited to stay with a bunch of other Cooperation
1 bigwigs, and, in part to give everybody in the family a breather from one
another, his mother made arrangements for the younger kids to stay with the
family of Argentina's deputy administrator who also had kids that same
age. Javier would be alone in his house for a whole weekend. I couldn't
stay overnights, but I sure as hell wasn't going to let the opportunity go
by. I dropped by after work and made vague excuses to my family about going
to meet friends. This was August and one of the last weekends before I was
due to go back to Earth and Stanford, and other young people were getting
ready to leave too, so there were parties going on. It was at least
plausible.

For the first time Javier and I spent a real evening together. We watched
movies on the VCR and he made me dinner, and then we made out on the sofa
in the living room. Javier pretty much melted into my arms. He was getting
to know a little bit more English and I'd bought a Spanish dictionary, not
that it did me a lot of good, but we could at least communicate in a
rudimentary sense. Luckily we didn't have to talk much. After we made out
for a while we were both stripped down to our underwear, both of us bulging
and leaking precum into our briefs. Javier got underneath me and started
rubbing his ass up against my groin. Just in case I didn't get it he did it
several more times, grinding his beautiful rounded butt cheeks against the
hardness throbbing in my underwear. I slid my hand under the waistband of
his briefs and felt the warm smooth skin of his ass. He moaned a little.
When I started grinding back, he clenched his butt cheeks together,
squeezing my dick softly. I asked him point blank: "You want me in you?" He
whispered, "Si, si."

Soon we went to his bedroom. He'd been planning for this moment because
after he got on his bed, face down, he reached under the edge of it and
took out a little bottle of lotion. He put it in my hands. I slid the
briefs off his hips and marveled at the sight of his perfect smooth ass, a
slightly darker skin tone than mine. I squirted some of the lotion onto his
butt cheeks and started rubbing it into his skin, my fingers moving closer
to his anus each time. I still had my underwear on but there were dark wet
stains all over the crotch from where I was leaking copiously with
excitement. When I touched Javier's butthole he sighed. Then I spread it
and put the tip of my finger past his sphincter. He gasped a little but
smiled. I worked on him for quite a while, deeply massaging and preparing
his butt for my onslaught, driving him (and myself) crazy in the
process. This beautiful sweet kid was, for all intents and purposes, my
boyfriend.

At long last I couldn't take it anymore. I whipped off my jockeys,
slathered lotion onto my burning rod, and leaped onto him. Javier gasped,
louder this time, as he felt me press into him. The sensation was
incredible. He had by far the tightest ass I'd ever fucked. I took him
harder than I had anticipated. I wanted to be gentle because it was his
first time but I was just consumed by lust. It didn't last long. He gasped
sharply and suddenly as I thrust my penis into him and his butt cheeks
clenched very tightly around me. I felt bad because it seemed like I'd hurt
him, but the feeling of his butthole contracting around my dick was almost
too intense for me to handle. I told him I was going to cum. A wave of
pleasure washed over me and I shot my load into him so hard I half expected
it to spurt out his nose. After I pulled out slowly Javier turned over and
reached up to kiss me. His own small penis was slackening and there was
semen, not mine, on his lower abdomen and wetting his thin black pubes and
the bedspread was covered with wet spots where his groin had been. I
realized the gasp and clench where I thought I'd hurt him was because he'd
climaxed while I was inside him. I tried to ask him if he'd enjoyed it,
meaning his own orgasm, but I wasn't sure I got the message across.

We fucked twice more that weekend. I got inside him again, which was even
better than the first time, and then on Sunday afternoon he made it clear
that he wanted to try it the other way. I really enjoyed it. His dick was
so small that it didn't hurt at all and the idea of having this younger kid
inside me was super hot. As that first experience demonstrated, Javier was
generally a premature ejaculator so it usually didn't last long when he was
on the topside. After he shot his cum inside me we slept together, in his
bed, for a couple of hours and waking up with him in my arms and his chin
pressed to my chest was heavenly.

As beautiful as the experience was, it was quickly followed by sadness.
Lucas, my brother, and I were scheduled to go back to Earth on the
mid-August shuttle and I wouldn't be back to Cooperation 1 for two years. I
didn't know how to explain this to Javier; he did have some understanding
of it but our communication wasn't good enough to discuss abstract
feelings. He knew when the shuttle was supposed to depart. A couple of days
before we met at the food court during the lunch hour of the last day of my
job. He was very taciturn. He gave me a sealed envelope and he said, "No
abras. Okay? Don't open. No abras until--" and he motioned upwards to the
Earth visible distantly in the window. I promised him.

I was not in love with Javier, and least not when I left. I was very sorry
to be leaving him, but sorrier still that I hadn't made any firm
arrangement to talk to him again after I returned to Earth. It didn't seem
practical. It would be two years before I'd be back. Communication from
Cooperation 1 to Earth and vice-versa was not really very secure. You could
send sealed letters but they'd take months to get back and forth, depending
on the space shuttle schedules; email was in its infancy in 1993 and almost
no one used it, so really the only way to talk "ship to shore" was to have
the communications center (CAPCOM, we called it) relay messages back and
forth. This was why Javier had given me a sealed envelope and told me not
to open it. I didn't, until I got back to Stanford.

The letter was written entirely in Spanish. I had to use my dictionary to
translate it. It was both beautiful and dangerous. Javier said that he
loved me desperately and would wait the whole two years to be back together
with me, if that was what I wanted. He said no one in his life had ever
made him feel the way I did, and he couldn't imagine anyone else ever
would. The letter was actually kind of sad. He apparently suffered from
depression, not a surprise, and didn't want to live on the station but felt
trapped. That was a common feeling among young people who lived there. He
wrote some very sappy stuff about how we were soulmates and every time he
looked at Earth through the window he'd be thinking of me. But he also said
that he knew I would probably find someone to love back on Earth, and if
that happened, at least he hoped I wouldn't totally forget him.

I had very mixed feelings about the letter. Javier was just coming up on
his 16th birthday and this was clearly the writing of a young kid who was
infatuated. It was also preposterous; there was no way it was going to work
out. But on the other hand there was something of an emotional connection
between us. It wasn't just that he was physically attractive and that was
the end of my feelings toward him. There was something beyond that.

This is where the very strange and unusual dynamics of life aboard the
space colony worked in our favor. Under normal circumstances, you could
expect a 16-year-old kid growing up and living a normal life on Earth to
meet somebody, probably a lot of somebodies, and have a more or less normal
dating life; that would certainly be true of someone in college. But things
were different on the station, and they were also different for gay
people. Take the population of a space colony, not very big to begin with,
and narrow it down to the gay people. Then narrow that class down to the
people within that group within roughly your same age range or with whom
you could expect to share life experiences. Then narrow that down to how
many of that group, if there are still any left, you might conceivably find
attractive. That's basically your prospect for relationships. Not very
many. Being gay on a space colony was close to a 100% guarantee of being
single for most of your life. That was the hard truth. But if you did find
somebody you had some sort of connection with, because there were so few
alternatives, it meant that what would be unthinkable or unrealistic living
a normal life on Earth was quite realistic on the station.

The impossibility of communications also gave me time to think. I returned
to Stanford just before the fall of my junior year in college. I sent
messages to the station all the time, with no expectation of privacy, and I
did send them occasionally to Javier; his family and mine knew we were
friends, so a "Feliz Cumpleaños" or a "Feliz Navidad" was to be
expected. But it was February of the next year, 1994, before I decided that
I might actually consider going back to him once I returned to orbit when
college was finished. That did not mean I would have to be celibate during
the next year and a half, nor did I expect it of Javier. In fact I hoped he
managed to get his rocks off up there once in a while. If 1995 came and we
still wanted each other, it was at least possible.

I did finally send him a message of a personal nature. It wasn't too
explicit, as I couldn't be sure that CAPCOM wouldn't read it. I had by then
taken several Spanish classes and my Spanish improved dramatically so we
could at least communicate. I told him, what you gave me before I left was
wonderful, and every time I looked up at the night sky and saw the light of
the station moving against the stars I thought of him. I also gave him a
veiled message. I told him that I thought of him while listening to my
favorite Van Halen album, "1984," especially track number 7. The title of
that song was "I'll Wait." I couldn't be sure he got it, but I hoped he
did.

In fact I had two more boyfriends in college. Neither were serious. I won't
even mention their names here, they really weren't important. As college
wore down I started looking forward to getting back aboard the station, and
not just because of Javier, though I still held out considerable hope that
we'd hit it off when I got back (and when he was two years older, which
would certainly make things easier). What my parents had predicted before
we left for the station came true: I thought of it as my home and it always
would be. The bright light that crossed the sky on clear nights was almost
everything I had ever known: my mom and dad, my brother, Javier, high
school memories, everything. Soon I would be back there. Whatever happened
with Javier would play out, up there, and that would also become part of my
life.

More to come...


My book, "An American Elf in Paris," is out now:
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08BNVGZYQ

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