Floating in Space

The airlock hatch bumps my shoulder, trying to close.  I swallow at the sight of Cyfal’s ass cheeks, bisected by the safety harness’ straps.

She is naked and I already want her so badly that my breathing hitches.

The harness holds each thigh, hips, ribs, and shoulders.  The single side of a Y strap attaches to the bulkhead and the double side is clipped to her shoulder rings.

Cyfal started without me.  Her hand is between her legs; her elbow moves in jagged circles.  Perhaps she thought I’d chicken out.  She is brash, volatile.  Her come-on made my pulse pound in my cunt.  I may be quiet and steady, but I want to see her explode when I fuck her.

I push into the airlock and float to her attachment point.  The airlock auto-seals behind me and Cyfal jolts at the clang.  When she turns to me, I unzip my jumpsuit from neck to crotch, exposing the safety harness against my skin, as instructed.  The slick webbing slides against me, warm, when I reach for a tether.

Before I can clip in, Cyfal tugs her tether and shoots toward me.  I catch her and absorb most of the impact.  She settles into me, arms around my shoulders and one leg between mine while the rest of her energy rebounds us toward the middle of the airlock.  I restrain the impulse to grab for the attachment handle.

The girl is good in zero gee.  We end up floating near the end of her tether.  With her face above mine, I can tuck my lips into the hollow of her collarbone and inhale her smell, unmasked by perfume.  It glows from her heated pores and floats, concentrated, from her cunt.

Cyfal says, “You came.”  Her voice carries excitement and vibrates my lips as I kiss my way across her throat.

“Of course.  I want you.”

“Have you ever been naked in vacuum?