The Boatswain Is Relieved - [BJ]

At precisely 2345 Hours Lieutenant Hammer walked out onto the deck of the Control Room. His hair was still damp and he had on a fresh uniform.

"Anything going on, Boatswain?" he asked while peering over Chief Wallace's shoulder. The Chief was sitting in the Command Chair. In front of him was a huge glass ball with etchings and scales of numbers and symbols encircling the outside of it, metal rings on the inside, and a replica of the ship in the dead-center. This was the core of the ship's steering and engineering systems.

"Nothing out of the ordinary, Number One," he answered while completing the entries into the Deck Log. "I checked about thirty minutes ago with Lieutenant Moonwatcher. He is out there covering for Security Guardian Gladden while that man catches some sleep. The cargo-operations are on schedule." Chief Wallace glanced at a screen. "The fresh water tanks are low, but we'll topping those off later today just before lift-off. The auxiliary environmental control system has finally decided to settle out and all readings are within range."

"Right," Lieutenant Hammer snorted. "Just hours before the main system takes over when we get into space." He glanced at a few more meters and gauges before saying, "Very well, Chief. I have the Conn. You are relieved."

Wallace stood up and Hammer took his place in the Command Chair. The Boatswain had a weapons belt around his waist as per Commander Smith's orders about being armed when outside the fenced-in area of the landing pad. As Wallace strode towards the access ramp, placing his service cap on his head and 'squaring' it, Hammer settled in for eight hours of boredom.

The Chief's destination was not town, but to the section of the container parking area that he had come to think of as 'blowjob alley'. As he approached the spot, he was surprised to see that there were only two girls 'on duty'. With the flurry of activity inside the landing pad, the dozens of Longshoremen working in shifts around the clock, he thought business would be good.

However, when he grew closer to the two women, he caught sight of movement in the shadows between two rows of containers to his left. Off to the right he heard muffled slurping sounds.

"How is it going, Spacer?" the short brunette asked, taking a couple of steps towards Wallace and away from the other woman. She wore summer attire, a sleeveless blouse, unbuttoned and tied in a knot at the waist, leaving her mid-drift bare. The way her breasts swayed as she walked, it was obvious that she did not wear a bra. The blouse was pink with a floral pattern. Thin. The outlines of her nipples partially visible.

An elastic waistband held up her pleated skirt, a lighter shade of pink and equally as thin as the blouse. Her bare legs were shapely, but that might have been due to the high heels she wore.

She was not a bad-looking woman, cute rather than pretty. Probably in her mid to late twenties. She did not have on much make-up, but then again, she did not really need it. Her unplucked eyebrows and unpainted lips lent a freshness to her. It was only her blue eyes that had mascara and shadowing. Her mouse-colored hair was straight, the ends cut unevenly, just reaching to the base of her neck.

"Good, good," he nodded and came straight to the point. "How much for a blow?"

If she was put off by his bluntness, she did not show it. After all, she was far from being an escort. Her quoted price was acceptable so Wallace told her to lead on.

"So what's your name?" she asked as she walked ahead, her swaying hips causing her skirt to wave.

"Does it really matter?" he replied.

Chuckling, she glanced back and said, "No, I guess not."

They passed by a row where a woman stood facing a container, her legs wide-spread, her arms stretched out as she leaned forward, her skirt bunched up around her waist. The man behind her had his jumpsuit unzipped all the way down to his crotch. His hands gripped her waist as he thrust savagely into her pussy. Both of them were grunting loudly.

"In here," she announced, jerking her head to the right and turning into the dark aisle. Once the money was exchanged, the woman squatted down before Wallace. When he made no motion to open his pants, she reached out to do it herself. She knew from experience that for some men, that was part of their ritual. But Smith grabbed her wrists when she touched his belt buckle, saying, "Just un-zip me."

She shrugged. He was paying for it. The cock that she encountered when she finally found her way through his boxers was flaccid and she hoped it would not be too difficult to get erect. It wasn't. Already the organ was starting to swell as she pulled it through the fly of his pants. Leaning in, tilting her head to the side, she began licking the shaft while squeezing into it with just the tips of her fingers.

Once she had coaxed it into a complete erection, proud and stiff and waiting to be serviced, she straightened up. Sliding her feet around a little to adjust her position, she curled her fingers around it, stroking it a few times before leaning in to take him into her open mouth. With her lips closed around the boner in her hand, she moved her head back and forth, sliding those lips along the length of it not covered by her fist. Just a routine blowjob.

Except Wallace reached around behind her head and pulled her towards him, her mouth pressing against her fist which was pressed against his abdomen. He pulled harder, forcing her hand to fall away and shoving his cock down her throat. She made a gagging noise as she was compelled to swallow him. And when her nose was flattened against his gut, he held her there. Again she made noises and in a few seconds was pushing against his thighs with her hands, trying to pull her head back.

Finally he relented and when her head jerked back, her eyes teary and spittle dripping from her lower lip, she looked up at him. "Geeze, fellow, are you trying to suffocate me?"

She scooted back a few inches and tried again, bobbing her head and pumping her fist. But Wallace stepped in towards her, pushing her upper body back and throwing her off balance. Pulling her mouth off of the penis, she slid her feet back, getting back on an even keel, and telling him, "Take it easy. I'll get you off with my mouth. Just relax and let me do the work."

Of course, her words were unheeded. As soon as she attempted to resume her fellatio, sucking and stroking, he was moving forward again. This time causing her to have to reach behind herself, her open hand at the end of her outstretched arm preventing her from toppling over completely.

"Mister, you've really got to slow down," she said, once more backing up. But even as she was speaking, she felt his hands pulling her head forward. She let him back into her mouth, attempting to suck him off. As before, it was not just her mouth that he wanted, but her throat. She tried to accommodate him, gripping the sides of his thighs and engulfing the entire length of that shlong.

"Mmmph . . . mmmph . . . mmmph," she grunted before pulling free yet again. "Wh-what's wrong with you?" she stared up at him, her eyeliner running down her cheeks. By then, she was already less than an inch from the container behind her, and Wallace's next half-step forward coupled with her instinctive backing away had her pinned against it.

This time when he started throat-fucking her, she was unable to pull away. There was nowhere to go. Her hands slapped frantically at his thighs, her protests muffled by that length of cock-meat shoved down her gullet. And he kept it shoved down there, cutting off her air supply and her open-handed slaps turned into fisted blows. Her kicking feet were useless, all she was accomplishing was just pressing her back tighter against the wall of the container.

When he at last relented, releasing her head and taking a half-step back, she sputtered and gasped for air before announcing, "Alright. That's it! We're done here."

He grabbed her shoulder, keeping her in that squatting position while reaching into his pocket for his wad of script. The sight of the scraps of paper caused her to cease attempting to stand up and she watched him peel off another bill. Then another. And finally a third. Wallace did not say anything, he just stared down at her, the money held at her eye-level.

She looked away from him, staring off into the night-time air as she considered. Finally, she snatched the money out of his hand, saying, "O.K. But just remember. I'm a human being, too. I need to breathe once in awhile."

He nodded, grabbing her head between his two hands. She opened her jaws wide and he immediately plunged his spit-covered pecker back into her mouth. With flexed knees, Wallace began to violently thrust back and forth, fucking her like the man they had passed had been doing. Only instead of her pussy, it was her throat he was fucking.

Her eyes glared up at him, unwavering, as he repeatedly violated her throat, causing her to gag and ****, her body twitching and her arms jerking. He did stop every fifteen, thirty seconds or so, pulling his phallus out of her mouth. During those all too brief reprieves, she tried to catch her breath, but he only allowed her two or three quick gasps before ramming it in again.

"Gawk . . . gawk . . . awk . . . gawk," was the song she was singing, her shoulders twisting against the metal wall behind her, her hands clenching and relaxing as she held them up at chest height, as if trying to grasp the air and breathe that way.

After enduring that brutal face-fucking for who knows how long, she suddenly heard him gasp and a split-second later her eyes widened as she felt the length of him twitching and throbbing. Wallace pushed himself all the way forward, his grip on her head tightening, his balls up against her chin.

It was now a race of which would happen first. Would his ejaculation end? Or would she pass out? Her muted cries and **** movements achieved nothing. She started to get tunnel-vision, the darkness around the rim of her sight closing in, and there was a loud, heavy pounding in her ears.

Just as she was about to slip under, she felt her head being released followed by that thick prick sliding out of her mouth. She fell over on her side, supporting herself on her elbow. Her head was bent and she was gulping in air.

Wallace put his now limp dick back inside his pants and zipped up. Looming over her, he waited for her to stand up, which she was eventually able to do. It was an effort and Wallace bent down to grip her upper arms and hoisted her to her feet. She was a bit wobbly but her eyes were alert and glaring.

"Alright. Good job," he told her, turning and walking away. He was going back to the ship. "My balls aren't so bloated now. I feel much relieved."