Back Inside - [HJ]

When Wallace and Sara returned to the interior of the 'Shake It Up', they were not holding hands or anything. But from the way that they walked closely together, the expressions on their faces, it was obvious that they were a couple. If only for this one night.

The Boatswain noticed that the Cook was no longer at the bar, but was sitting in the booth beside one of Sara's friends. Her other friend was at the bar. And Millie was nowhere in sight. Stopping briefly at the bar, Sara returned the keys to her friend and then led Wallace over to the booth.

"I see you two are getting to know each other," Sara commented with a smile.

"Yeah," Dawson answered, grinning up at Sara. "Millie had to leave and Mary invited me to join her and . . . " He looked around the room, finally spotting the other woman at the bar. "Anne . . . Who's kinda drifted off to sit at the bar."

Mary was in Sara and Wallace's age group. Her red hair was cut in a short feathered style. Like Sara, Mary wore jeans but with a flower patterned blouse and denim vest. Probably her trim figure was the result of attending a gym. Or maybe she was just lucky.

When Sara introduced Wallace to Mary, the seated woman invited the standing couple to join them. Wallace asked the two women to excuse him and Dawson for just one moment. They would be right back. This required Mary to slide out of the booth, as she was sitting on the outside with Dawson next to the wall.

Leading the Cook outside, the Boatswain took a few steps towards the side of the building, away from the door. "I probably should have mentioned this before we landed," the older Spacer began. "You'll find that every planet has its own set of customs and traditions that often differ from those on Earth."

"I know, Boats," Dawson answered in that West Virginia accent of his. "They taught us that at Celestial Command Basic Training."

Cooks, not having to actually operate the ship under normal circumstances, were given an abbreviated training course. Although once in space, they were expected to pick up the needed skills to replace another crew member if necessary. The responsibility for seeing that the 'in space' training was accomplished fell to the First Officer.

"Do you have a . . . preference . . . for older women?" the Boatswain asked, quickly adding. "Not that there is anything wrong with that. We all have our quirks and kinks."

"That's the dangest thing," the Cook answered excitedly. "I happened to sit down next to her at the bar and we started in to talkin'. The next thing I know, we are sitting in a booth and she has my . . . well, my cock out and is givin' me a hand-job! I ain't never had nothin' like that happened to me before."

"Well, yes," the Boatswain ran his hand across his mouth. "That's the thing. You see, on Meta Carpals V a hand-job means no more than a handshake does on Earth. See, the people here figure that a man's sex drive is higher than a woman's. That a man has to get off ever so often."

"Yeah," the Cook nodded his head. "Or he'll be having wet-dreams."

"Exactly," the Boatswain replied. "So if a female is friends with a male, or if she meets a guy that she likes . . . And it doesn't have to be in a boyfriend/girlfriend type of way. You know, she just thinks he is a nice guy. Then if he . . . needs or wants to . . . You know, 'get off', then she will give him a hand. It's just a simple curtesy. Like opening a door for a woman or helping an elderly person across the street."

The Cook was overwhelmed by what the Boatswain was telling him and he looked back towards the bar. "You mean any one of them would be willing to . . ."

"Not all of them," the Boatswain answered. "And not all of the time. Did you notice that Millie's fingernails were painted purple. As are Sara's and Mary's?" When the Cook nodded his head, the Boatswain continued. "That means that they are receptive to granting that favor. But that doesn't mean you can just walk right up to them and ask. Like on Earth, you couldn't walk up to a stranger and say 'Shake my hand' or 'Scratch my back'."

"And the waitress's green nails . . ." the Cook tried to wrap his head around what the Boatswain was telling him.

"Green for money," the Boatswain explained. "It's a signal that she is only there because she is working, so don't be 'hitting on her' or 'coming on to her'. Just like married, engaged, or women with steady boyfriends usually paint their nails gold when they go out." He paused for a few seconds, studying the Cook's face to see if he was following what he was telling him. "Alright," the Boatswain said at last, "Let's get back inside before some other characters steal our seats."

"There you are," Sara announced when Wallace and Dawson approached the booth. She and Mary stood up, letting the men slide in first and then the women sat back down, their hands in their laps. "I was about to think we were going to have to come out looking for you."

As she spoke, she casually reached over to place her hand over Wallace's crotch. He was not surprised. In fact, he was expecting it. Raising his own hand into the air, he waved towards the waitress.

On the other hand, the way that Dawson set up straight with a startled look on his face, indicated that, despite all that Wallace had told him, the young man was not expecting Mary's hand in his lap.

Once the waitress had arrived and their order placed, the four people chatted while waiting for the drinks to arrive. Like most men, Wallace and Dawson enjoyed talking about themselves. Furthermore, like most spacers, they enjoyed talking about their ship. Or at least Wallace did. Dawson was having difficulty keeping up with the conversation. The other three in the booth found the much younger man's reactions amusing.

When the drinks arrived, Wallace held his aloft with one hand (while unobtrusively dropping his other hand to his lap, covering Sara's fondling hand and petting it). "To friends," he said. "Both old and new. People you can rely on and who are always willing to give a hand."

The glass to her lips hid Sara's smile, but beneath the table, she squeezed into the lump that was forming inside Wallace's pants. After taking a healthy gulp, she sat the glass down and stood up. "Come on, Spaceman. Let's play another game of pool."

Wallace wasn't really interested, but he understood the reason for the suggestion. So he joined Sara at the felt-covered table, giving Dawson and Mary a chance to . . . get better acquainted. Sure enough, after only a few shots were made at the pool table, Dawson and Mary were heading towards the door, pausing briefly at the bar to get the keys from Anne.

As they settled into the back seat of Anne's hover-craft, Dawson sniffed the air and commented, "Strawberries?"

Mary laughed while digging through her purse. "Yeah. Sara has a thing about strawberries."

Dawson did not fully understand the answer, but he let it slide as he busied himself with opening his pants. By the time Mary turned to face him, holding her own tube of hand lotion, the young man's cock was out and sticking straight up in the air through the fly of his boxer shorts. Tilting her head to one side, Mary studied the cock on display as she rubbed the lotion into the palms of her hands. "You have a nice dick, hon," she told him. "I guess after so long in space, it needs a lot of attention to make up for lost time."

"Yes, M'am," he answered. And then gasped as the older woman curled her slicked-up fingers around the shaft.

"Now don't be calling me M'am if I'm going to jerk you off," she laughed. "It makes me feel old and all matronly." She snaked her other hand inside his fly, seeking out his testicles. "Kind of gives an incestuous feeling to this."

She shuddered in mild disgust at the thought of ****. Especially considering that the nineteen-year-old man whose cock she was handling was young enough to be her son. But those thoughts faded as she got into the act of giving him a hand-job. She and her two friends frequently came to the 'Shake It Up'. It was a good place to meet guys, have a few laughs, and some drinks. Like the other women on her planet, jacking off a guy was no big deal. There was no romantic involvement and no penetration. Just a man and woman having some fun. Like dancing.

Soon Dawson was bucking his hips and muttering incoherencies as his orgasm approached. Despite having been jerked off less than an hour ago by Millie, the young spaceman was ready to cum again.

"Oh, Mary!" he cried out as his cock started to spew. The red head pumped away faster, coaxing him through his ejaculation as he shot out his load. She found it endearing the way he had called out her name.

He yielded only a little cum. But she knew he had had an orgasm earlier. In fact, as she continued to work his cock, she wondered why she had teased him so back inside. As the cock in her hand softened, Mary decided the answer was that in his eagerness, he was just so damn cute.