Pre-flight snack

'How is that going to happen?' Gina asked.

'You're to dock at Spaceport IV orbiting Darvon,' Anderson said. 'As I said, Interplanetary Admin has put a stop on all travel, but we've got a couple of people friendly to the Agency inside that particular port.'

Spaceports were huge vessels that orbited planets, some staffed and manned by as many as tens of thousands of people. All colonised planets had a number of spaceports orbiting them, and the huge centres proved useful in providing goods and services for travellers, eliminating the necessity of having to land on the planets themselves. The spaceports were never named, and were only ever referred to by their numeral. Interplanetary Administration stepped in to put a hold on space travel around the immediate vicinity of a planet's orbit in situations of political instability in case the planet's anti-space weaponry fell into aggressive hands. Yet during travel embargoes surface-to-orbit movement did occur, and the way to do it was by bribes to get onboard official ships or to take a chance on unregistered flights. No-one ever really considered the possibility of anti-space weaponry being used to be credible, certainly not indiscriminately on random ships. The hold on travel was more of a resort that was imposed in name only, but there were not many that took exemplary notice of it. An operative of Gina's ability would have negligible difficulty in getting down to the surface from the spaceport. Nevertheless, it was nice to have a friend or two on the port itself.

'What do you want me to do when I get onto the planet?' Gina asked.

'At the moment we just want you to observe what happens. If a genuinely revolutionary situation develops, we need to be on top of it. Go and get us some current intel. Find out what sort of movement are being formed politically and if there's anyone at the head of them.'

'Doesn't sound too difficult, sir.'

'Consider it a holiday after your good work on the previous mission,' Anderson said, snapping the file closed.

**

Even by the standards of ships that could set down upon the surfaces of worlds, Gina's ship, a regulation Agency Kestrel, was singularly sleep and streamlined for rapid departure or arrival through atmosphere. Only warp engines jutted notably from the hull, and they were contoured cleverly as wings. Gina noted that the ship's supplies had already been restocked, despite the fact that she had been out of the hatch no less than two hours before her return. Either the Agency were surpassing themselves with their deserved reputation for efficiency, or Anderson knew that she would accept the mission and had personally instructed that her ship be made immediately operational for swift departure.

Actually, Gina noted with a little smile to herself, the efficiency wasn't perhaps all it could have been. At the foot of one of her ship's landing struts, she spied a mechanic tinkering with some controls, a panel open in the side of the smooth metal, a clunky box of tools open on the floor beside him.

'Now that's a big, bulging toolbox,' she said, after closing soundlessly behind the mechanic, putting on her most succulent, sensual voice.

The mechanic, a broad-shouldered man in overalls, turned. Gina smiled at a face she recognised.

'Paul!'

'Hi Gina,' the mechanic said. He was a muscular, good looking young man with short-cropped blonde hair. Though he hadn't told Gina, Paul had discovered that her ship was docking that day and had cleared his schedule to come down to the bay and see if he could catch sight of her. Paul, like every single person who worked at the Agency, had an unfathomably deep crush on Gina and had run into her a couple of times in the past during her various briefs and debriefs at the station. There were pictures of Gina, some in tasteful magazine poses, say dappled in sweat and straining at a gym-machine, bending over a hover-bike or provocatively hefting plasma-weapons (with the phrase 'It'll blow a man to heaven' written alongside) all around the more blue-collar sections of Agency HQ, and to the people that made the place run she was something of a living legend. Paul was one of these people and many of these images had been seared into his brain over the long, lonely stay in deep-space. The pictures had been taken as part of a more light-hearted and informal part of internal Agency policy, a policy that the more hardcore versions that Gina had taken part in around the base out of the goodness of her heart had absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with. These featured Gina in poses such as sporting bulging, vein-ripped fourteen-inch cocks protruding from her asshole with her looking over her shoulder at the camera with her hand over her mouth and a look in her eyes as if she had been caught doing nothing so very immodest as being caught stealing stationary, or such as having two utterly spent footlong schlongs resting on top of her enormous mounds of titflesh, with cum smeared down the inside of her cleavage and hanging from her chin. The long and short of it was, Gina's visit to the station was something of a big deal. Especially for Paul, seeing as the last time she had come to the station he had finally got the guts to introduce himself to her.

'You remember me,' said Paul, genuinely surprised, immensely flattered, and totally tongue tied.

'Of course,' said Gina, frowning a little, smiling, as if it were impossible that she wouldn't have, 'do you remember me?'

'O-of course Agent Knox,' Paul said.

'Gina.'

'Gina.'

'Will she fly?' said Gina.

'She'd better,' said Paul, 'I checked the schedule and your launch is go in twelve minutes.'

'Hmmm,' said Gina, sliding closer to Paul, 'well seeing as it takes me five minutes to prep the ship, I hope you don't have too much left to do here.'

Paul gulped, reached a hand out and snapped the panel shut. 'Just finished,' he said.

'Good,' said Gina, before sliding to her knees in front of Paul and unzipping his overalls with her left hand, before pausing to spit into the palm of her right, 'then that leaves us seven minutes...'

Paul looked around furtively, astounded as Gina fished her stealthy hand around inside his overall before withdrawing his huge member into the cool air of the hanger. No-one was around, which was good, because he felt so hard that his massive, pulsing member would have been visible, ironically enough, from space.

'Fourteen inches,' whistled Gina, 'not bad...'

'How do you know just by looking at it?' Paul said.

'Practice,' said Gina, before sinking her lips forwards and engulfing the thick length in one go, before withdrawing and fisting the turgid monstercock in her right hand.

Paul groaned as Gina proceeded to jackhammer her head back and forwards the full-length of his rod, engulfing every inch of the monstrously sized shaft, enjoying the feeling of the hot, slick meat shunting through her moist mouth and penetrating her throat, the top-heavy, massive-titted slut filling her oesophagus with the throbbing tube. Withdrawing the gargantuan penis from her maw, Gina gazed wantonly at the meaty arrowhead that pointed directly at her face and spat a few frothy wads of saliva onto the shiny tip before once again entrenching it into her gullet.

'How about giving me a snack for a long space journey, Paul?' Gina said with a wink, looking upwards as Paul leaned backwards, the knuckles of his hands clasped white against the foot of the ship's landing strut. All the white her fingerless-gloved hands were a blur against the pillar of flesh that they were jacking.

Paul's entire body shuddered as he came, nothing but a strangulating whimper escaping his mouth as a jet of cum squirted from the tip of his cock and ejected out in a white beam from the bell-shaped head, the gluey rope firing out well over Gina's head to smack against the hull of she behind her. Another rope followed in the same trajectory, until Gina angled Paul's cock downwards with her right hand and squeezed his lurching testicles with her left, successfully allowing the next pulse of hot semen to smack directly between her eyes. Giggling, Gina kept jacking Paul's convulsing rod as three more shots blasted from the mechanic's dick to land in three diagonal stripes across her face, each one beginning in the hair on one side of her face and ending in the hair on the other, with the gooey lines plastered one across her forehead and over her right eye, tailing off into her right ear, the other across her forehead and over the bridge of her nose and the other across her left eye, over the tip of her nose and splashed across her mouth.

With Paul still gasping, Gina rose to her feet and blew him a cum-bubble kiss, checking her watch briskly. 'Done with two minutes to spare!' she said, 'now hurry up out of the dock, I'd hate to fry you with my rockets!'

Spinning on her heels, Gina turned, and for the first time saw where Paul's first two errant shots had been dispatched. Painted against the hull was a cartoon depiction of herself with her huge tits popping out of a latex bra in the style of fighter planes from several millennia ago. The image of Gina was one where her eye was closed in a saucy wink and her mouth was open and smiling. One almighty gob of cum was caked against the cartoon eye, and the other line was across the huge, bursting boobs of the hyperstencilled image.

Gina looked over her shoulder and then turned, replicating the pose on the side of her ship, cum in both her own eye and the eye of the cartoon image of her. Paul had no real time to process this image other than momentarily, before Gina turned again and fled, quickly skipping up the ramp of her ship.

Gina travelled naked whenever she could, and had tipped a glass full of cum from the stayfresh canisters into a cocktail glass directly after setting the co-ordinates for Darvon and shucking out of her white, skintight suit. Reclining in the control-centre chair, she selected one of her favourite dildos from a rack in the arm of the seat and kicked her mile long legs up, resting her heels on the panel in front of her. On her feet were a pair of fur-trimmed high-heeled slippers, and her eyes were hidden by a pair of shades.

With one hand Gina placed the broad-brimmed glass to her pouting lips and inclined it to take a long swallow of the creamy sperm, relishing the thick, warm liquid and coming away with a slender thread of the cum stretching from her bottom lip to the rim of the glass. Her other hand was well-employed, currently massaging the tightly clenched muscles of her asshole until she found it time to insert the huge dildo into her cinnamon ring. This she did, gasping as the tool entered her rectum and moving it in and out, before taking another sip of cum. Soon, after a few minutes of this she was furiously slamming the fake-cock into her butthole and wailing until her juicing pussy convulsed and squirted, spewing a fountain of her girlcum onto the console in front of her. The cocktail glass was in place, however, and Gina found that her copious ejaculate had filled it to overfilling, a miniature galaxy of sperm now rotating in the ocean of her fluids, which she raised to her lips and drank down.