“I’ve spent so much time in zero-g that I have trouble walking when I’m on ground. Space has become home.”

The look in her blue eyes was obvious disbelief. “What are you drinking, space-man?”

“I’ll have a Stella, thanks Brenda. I know, I’m such a fucking geek.” Vince liked the name, Brenda, as he felt it was the closest female name to the word breast. He wanted to pinch those nipples under her t-shirt.

Certainly the black uniform t-shirt Brenda wore over her light tartan kilt showed plenty of cleavage. With knee-high black socks, and a short bob-cut of dirty-blonde hair, she had a sassy image to most of the bar regulars.

“You don’t believe me?”

With a grin she pulled his pint. “Does it matter?”

“No, I suppose it doesn’t.”

She dropped a white cardboard coaster before the pint was laid on it. “So what do you do in space?”

“Fighter pilot.”

She snorted a laugh before regaining control. “Sorry, please tell me more.”

Vince stroked at his beard. “I’ve been on a break lately, thus the facial hair.”

“Right, that’s why the story sounds funny.”

“I fly one of the V-720 with multi-cannons and the Quensel sublight drive. It’s like the Mercedes of star-fighters. I get to patrol the Jupiter Tract.”

Confusion took her face. “And you live in this building?”

“What? You think pilots are paid well?”

Another man walked in and sat beside Vince at the bar, bringing the conversation to a relieving halt. The relief on her face vanished with the first words out of the new man’s mouth, however.

“M’lady! Your finest ale!”

Vince grinned at the man and turned to slap how shoulder. “Greg! You made it.”

“Good sir Vince, when I say I will join you for an ale, you can bloody believe I will show up.” He smoothed invisible dust off the shoulder of his black tweed sport coat. The tweed was bad enough, but the two cream elbow patches screamed university prof.

“I wish more people were like that.” Vince looked uncomfortable at the difference in wardrobe. His grey t-shirt and jeans didn’t compare to the shirt, tie and black slacks beneath Greg’s jacket.

“Especially when you’re buying.”

“Finest ale?” Brenda interrupted. “Gonna need a little clarification on that.”

With a laugh, Vince ordered for his friend, “A Rickards White, unless I’m mistaken.”

“Indeed you are correct, sir,” Greg encouraged while scratching his full grey beard. His pony tail was a matching grey that hung down the back of his denim shirt.

“Jesus, man, you look like Herschel from The Walking Dead. You on sabbatical again?” Vince sipped his ale.

“No more sabbatical. This, my friend,” Greg said, leaning back from the bar to present his body as if he were one off Barker’s Beauties. “This is retirement.”

“But you’re only forty-.”

“Yes, forty-two. Some serious advantage to discovering a new element. It pays very well. That said, the stress that came with the work is why I’m sporting the Herschel-esque coif. I never dye, though, as I find the grey locks more distinguished than greasy black.”

Brenda shook her head. These were not normal midday Friday afternoon barflies. She stepped out from behind the bar to head to the kitchen.

“She’s fucking hot.” Green eyes followed her through the swinging door as Greg took his first sip of ale.

“I know. That’s why I come here.”

“Slept with her yet?”

Vince laughed and shook his head.

“Dude, you’re a fucking fighter pilot. That should be worth at least one fuck.”

“Not yet. Until my being the only one in here today, she barely noticed me.”

“Vince, my friend, you always were the quiet one. Imagine the pussy you’d have got with some voice.”

Vince nodded. “She does have gorgeous tits.”

Brenda returned from the kitchen.

Greg allowed his eyes to wander again. “Indeed, my good man. Glorious was the word that crossed my mind.” His eyes settled into her cleavage.

Hers were not the ridiculously sized fake breasts either side, but perfectly natural medium-sized ones. Her cleavage was the perfect valley that would be the right fit for an erection as her mouth sucked the tip with her hands squeezing her nipples and pushing those breasts together around him.

An erection began to form in Greg’s slacks.

The two men sat and shared old stories that were mostly fictional. With the snow outside, only two other patrons came in and shared a table at the back well out of earshot.

Vince, finished his last sip. “I have to head home to Jessica.”

“The Goddess of Ball and Chain, how is the old bird?”

Brenda laughed.

“She’s good. Her voice box is not working.”

“Her years of smoking every herb and weed shred could find turned into a blessing then.”

Vince nodded and stuck out his hand. “Two weeks. Same time, same place?”

Greg stood and shook his hand. With a slap on Vince’s shoulder he grinned. “I look forward to it.” His eyes returned to Brenda. “You couldn’t keep me away.”

Vince pulled his scarf and coat on tightly before walking out.

“Is he really a fighter pilot?” Brenda cut lemons into small wedges, allowing her eyes to flash up at Greg.

“Yes, a damned fine one, too.”

“Seriously?”

“He makes Anakin Skywalker look like a little boy.” Greg winked.

“Oh come on,” Brenda said through a laugh.

“In truth, he is a fine pilot. With the stress they put him through, I’m surprised he hasn’t killed that wife of his yet.”

“Another?” she asked, nodding at his near empty pint.

“Ah, yes, one more. What time are you off?”

She put down the knife and went to pull another pint. “Why?”

“You’re coming home with me tonight.”

She laughed deep and almost snort-like. “No, I’m not.”

—

Brenda screamed as her orgasm ripped through her. For a moment, she stopped riding Greg and just enjoyed the fifth climax he had helped her achieve.

Grasping those perfect breasts…pinching those perky nipples, Greg liked that she was doing most of the work. Something about the energy of a younger woman when she found a man that knew what he was doing with her. However, he knew how he had to finish. His voice instructed gently, “Get off and lay down.”

She did, though had difficulty laying still while the aftershocks of the orgasm continued.

He pinched her nipples further, not so much to assist her, as to rev her motor once again. Greg crawled up to his knees and straddled her chest. Laying his erection between her breasts, he pinched her nipples and squeezed them together around his length.

Sensing what he wanted, Brenda took the tip of his penis into her mouth.

With a cry, Greg knew it was time. Pulling his cock back from her mouth, he erupted a stream of warm white over her chest, throat and chin.

Her fingers traced through the cum and put some to her lips. “Wow.”

“See, I told you I could last.” He pinched those wonderful nipples once again.

She sighed with no resistance. “Yeah, you did.”

He smiled and reached down to caress her cheek.

“But I’m still not coming home with you tonight.”

Greg laughed, and moved to ravage her for round six.

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