No - [HJ]

"I often think so," Hammer replied as he slid off the stool. Grabbing his glass of beer, he headed for the empty pool table. As he was racking up the balls, a woman approached him.

"You off the 5-EX?" she asked him. Seeing his quizzical look, she explained. "A couple of men wearing the same uniform you have on were in here last night. They told me and my friend all about their ship." She rolled her eyes and chuckled, "Oh, boy. Did they tell us all about it."

Hammer smiled, "An occupational hazard. We space-going types tend to forget that there are worlds outside our metal cocoons."

"So, do you really want to play a game of pool or would you like to come sit with me and my friend?" she asked, nodding towards a nearby booth where another woman was sitting. There were two drinks on the table.

Returning his cue stick to the rack on the wall, he retrieved his beer from the rim of the billiard table and motioned for the woman to proceed. "I was just using the pool table as a means of escape from a couple of overly curious youngsters at the bar."

Laughing as they headed towards her table, she replied, "Yes, Anne and I noticed the encounter. Oh, this is Anne, by the way," the woman said when they reached the booth. "Anne, why don't you let . . ." she turned to look at the tall black man, realizing she did not know his name.

"Jack," Hammer said as Anne slid out of the booth to let him slide in. Having visited Meta Capals V before, he understood that in a milk bar it was customary for the woman to sit on the outside of a booth. This prevented her from being 'trapped' by an overly zealous male as would be possible if she sat next to the wall. However, he was somewhat surprised that the woman who had first approached him had not asked him to sit next to her.

"I am Sara," the woman said as she sat down opposite the pair. "You weren't in here last night, were you?"

"No," Hammer shook his head, "I had the 'duty' last night. I had to stay onboard."

"Oh, my," Sara gasped. "That means this is the first time you have been off your ship in . . . how long? Two months?"

Hammer replied in the affirmative while at the same time feeling Anne's hand grabbing his crotch. He tried to keep a straight face, not even turning his head to look at her as she groped his package.

"That's a long time," Anne commented.

"It is," Hammer agreed, trying to lower his hand nonchalantly below the table to place on top of Anne's hand, giving it a squeeze of encouragement. It was only then that he turned his head to look at her. Like Sara, she was thirty-something, with her brown hair cut in a bob. She had a small, upturned nose and just the hint of wrinkles at the corners of her green eyes. When they made eye contact, she smiled at him.

"I wonder if Abe and Willie are going to show up tonight," Sara said as she glanced towards the entrance of the Shake It Up.

As a reflex, Hammer looked back over his shoulder, following Sara's gaze. Turning his attention back to the table, he answered, "Dawson . . . er, Willard . . . Willie," he finally got the name right, finding it strange to refer to the young Petty Officer by that name. "He's the Cook and has to clean up after dinner and all. I would imagine he'll make an appearance around six-thirty or so."

"How about Abe?" Sara asked.

Hammer laughed at that question. "The Boatswain? . . . He usually takes a nap before leaving ship. It's an old Chiefs' trick. Helps him stay up longer when he does make it into town."

All the time Sara and Hammer were talking, Anne was rubbing back and forth over his hard cock. Practically jerking him off through the material of his pants. In a few moments, she encountered a damp spot over the head of his dick and realized he was leaking pre-cum.

"Sara," Anne said as she moved her hand away from Hammer's lap to grab her purse. "Would it be alright if we left you alone for a while? I think Jack and I should take a walk."

Hammer knew that he should say something along the line of it being fine. They could stay with Sara longer. But he had an erection that had only felt his own hand for the past two months. A handjob from an attractive woman would be just the ticket now.

"Go right ahead," Sara smiled at the pair. As they slid out of the booth, she teased with, "Let me know how everything comes out."

The two walked in silence to Anne's hovercraft. Once she had unlocked a door to the backseat, the pair entered and settled in. She placed her purse and the handful of napkins she had taken from the dispenser on the table behind her, as she sat half-turned to face him. Anne efficiently opened Hammer's pants and when she hauled out the long, thick black anaconda through the fly of his boxer shorts, she exclaimed, "Wow. This is even bigger than I thought!"

Giving the shaft a few languid up-and-down strokes, her eyes rivetted on it, she asked, "Do you actually stick this into women?" She shook her head in awe. "It would split me in two!"

"Well, I don't just ram it in," he answered, leaning back in the seat and spreading his legs wider.

Anne continued to slowly shake her head, in awe of the size and firmness of it. After fondling it and caressing it for a few more minutes, she released it to get a tube of lotion from her purse. Hammer watched as the brown-haired woman lubed him up, spreading the scented ointment all over his throbbing fuck-stick.

For the next twenty minutes, there was no conversation between the two. The only sounds in the backseat were the loud squishing noises of her greasy fist sliding up and down the slick shaft, the slapping noises of her clenched hand smacking against his heavy balls, and the increasingly frequent moans and sighs of the man being jerked off.

"Oh, yeah . . . oh, yeah," he gasped as he sat up straighter. Anne quickly glanced from the oily, slippery cock in her hand to Hammer's face. The man's teeth were clenched, his lips pulled back in a grimace, the veins of his neck protruding. The brown-haired woman quickly shifted her position, tucking one leg under herself as she leaned forward and tugged as hard and furiously as she could.

Almost immediately he started ejaculating. His back arched and his entire body stiffened as wild blasts of hot, thick cum shot out from the slit in the head of his cock. Like an uncontrolled firehose, Hammer's cum-cannon was spewing sperm everywhere, drenching Anne's hand, falling onto his clothes, splattering to the floor.

When at last he collapsed back onto the seat, breathing heavily and looking like a man awakening from a dream, Anne asked, "Feel better, Jack?"

"Much," he answered with a raspy whisper. "Thank you. . . Thank you very much . . . Anne."

"Anytime," she replied, using a paper napkin to wipe the spilt spunk from between her fingers.