Chief Abram Wallace

While everyone else was busy making travel arrangements, Chief Wallace, the Boatswain of the 5-EX, was at a rental agency seeking a furnished apartment. As a space port, the city had dozens, if not hundreds, of buildings that catered to spacemen desiring off-base housing. For whereas everyone else was going home, some permanently, some on leave to return within a month or six weeks, the Boatswain was staying near the base. His days would consist of sleeping til noon, going to the CPO Club for the afternoon, and then either haunting 'the strip' or going back to his furnished apartment to watch media.

By mid-afternoon he had signed a lease, taken his gear off the ship, and purchased a used hover-craft. Tomorrow he would stop by the long-term storage unit to get his civilian clothes and personal belongings. Things like kitchen utensils, books, pictures, and souvenirs. A few days before lift-off, he would sell the vehicle, put his stuff back in storage, and get rid of his apartment.

Right now, he was slowly driving down the six blocks that formed 'the strip'. Pawn shops, bars, strip joints, pool halls, massage parlors, tattoo establishments, movie houses (both legit and porn), greasy spoons, clothing stores, electronic shops, and jewelry retailers populated the area. At night, the sidewalks would be lined with streetwalkers, but even now, there were a few 'working girls' out plying their wares.

A blonde wearing a purple pullover and jeans was leaning against a lamppost. Her long hair was pulled back in a ponytail and her sunglasses were shoved up on top of her head. When Wallace stopped his car where she was standing, she stepped off the curb and leaned down to talk to him through the window on the passenger side. She wasn't bad-looking, in her thirties and with a decent figure. Probably the 'pick of the litter' at the moment. Not that it really mattered. The Boatswain was not looking for a wife or girlfriend. He just wanted a knobber.

They negotiated the price and as she got into the hover craft, she pointed to a side street up ahead, saying, "Pull in over there."

He did, driving half way down the deserted street. There were mainly warehouses and boarded up failed businesses. When he killed the engine, the blonde half-turned in her seat to face him, waiting for her money. Once the credits had changed hands, she scooted closer and leaned over to open his pants.

After his trousers were undone, he arched his back and shoved his pants and boxers down past his knees. The blonde then lowered her head and took his soft cock into her mouth, sucking and licking. Soon the Boatswain was hard and the hooker started bobbing her head rapidly. She wanted to get him off quickly which was partly the reason why she had not spoken to him after telling where to park. A conversation would just prolong her task.

The Boatswain took long, deep breaths as he leaned back against his seat. The blonde's lips slid up and down his shaft and she sucked hard. Her brow was knitted as she worked to get him off. After a few minutes, Wallace started to moan and squirm around in his seat, getting close to 'busting his nut'. The blonde increased the speed of her head-bobbing and at one point her sunglasses fell down onto her nose.

"Aw, fuuuck," Wallace groaned and exploded into the blonde's mouth. She continued her movements, accepting his load as the Boatswain emptied out his nuts.

When his ejaculation ended, the blonde lifted her head and quickly opened the passenger side door to spit out the wad of cum she had in her mouth. She spat several times and once she was finished, Wallace started the engine and told her, "That was good."

She simply said, "Thanks," and looked straight ahead, waiting for Wallace to circle the block and drop her off where he had picked her up.