Important stuff first

You shudder as you feel the sluttiest mind of the ship touching yours and giving it a, near heretically depraved, french kiss. No words exchanged, no pictures transferred, just a feeling of unquenchable lust.

With trembling fingers, you unplug yourself from your control lectern next to Crick's command throne, a faint trail of sweat running down your neck. "I'll await the full combat record in two hours, captain" you tell her, the blonde to busy to fully acknowlege your departure, as you head for the elevator to the navigator's quarters, limping faintly to conceal your bulging erection...