Spaceport Pickup

Terry looked up from his seat on the park bench. "Hi, Garth. Find anything?"

"Shit," said Garth. He scowled down at Terry for a moment, then settled his wide-shouldered frame on the park bench beside Terry. "This fucking planet is something out of the twentieth fucking century. I don't wanta even think about it."

Terry frowned, letting his gaze drift over his shipmate. The loose uniform of a Space Patrolman couldn't hide Garth's athletic physique. Terry took a deep breath, folded his arms across his own well-muscled chest, and stared moodily at the purple-leafed trees that shaded the park from this planet's sun. "I even checked out the swimming pool; at least this town's big enough to have one. Garth, you are not going to believe this, but..."

"I'll believe any-fucking-thing about this mudball."

"...they wear clothes, in the pool. The men actually wear short pants when they're swimming. I saw it with my own eyes. Clothes!"

"Fuck it all," rumbled Garth. "We're a lot of fucking parsecs from Earth, but this is just fucking ridiculous."

"Be a long two weeks, waiting for our ship to finish getting serviced here."

Garth sighed. He stretched his arms out along the back of the bench, then let his left hand rest lightly on Terry's left shoulder. "Well, I dropped in on the spaceport manager. He wanted to tell me all about the scenic beauties of the fucking Misty Falls and RAM dump like that. Then I asked him, straight out, where does a stud go for some quick sex. He spun his tapes a bit, then gave me the address of a fucking bar."

"A bar?" Terry wrinkled his nose. "That's a weird place for a pickup: drinks take the edge off your coordination, and then where are you? Or are you supposed to do your drinking afterwards?"

"Worse than that. I figured there was something the fuck wrong when I saw everybody in there wearing clothes --"

"You mean, they don't strip down so you can see what you're getting into?"

"It's lots worse than that," growled Garth. "Women."

"Huh?" Terry sat up straight and stared at Garth. "What in Space are you --"

"Women. Gals. You know: females of the human species."

"Just -- just for a casual romp? If my wife ever did a thing like that with another man --"

"And if my wife ever caught me even thinking about a quick roll with another woman, she'd burn my balls off with a fucking lase-gun -- and slow, real slow," said Garth.

"Mine too." Terry slumped back against the bench and stared across the path, noting with a fraction of his mind the people strolling past. He focused for a moment on a big, blond youth in tight shirt and tighter pants, then Terry turned to Garth again. "How can the women here stand it -- their men going out with a -- a second- hand woman?"

Garth snorted, then said, "If they can put up with having no place to find a stud for a quick one, they'll put the fuck up with any-fucking-thing. He glanced at Terry, a far-away look in his eyes. "Remember the way they do it on Gamma Centaurus IV?"

"Wasn't that where you checked your clothes, and then stood in line so other studs could look you over for a spell."

"Yeah -- and if nobody grabs ya in an hour, then you get to pick whoever the fuck you want. Better than the deal on that Planet, where they hand out tickets, and you gotta make it with whoever's got the same fucking number that you do."

"You must have been there on a bad day or something," said Terry. "When I was there, the spaceport was full of lumberjacks just down from the hills."

"Good?"

Terry sighed, remembering. "They were big and hung and hard-up, and all eager for a round with a real, live Space Patrolman." His gaze followed a sturdy, golden-haired youth for a moment. "I really got a workout there."

"My trouble was that I got handed a ticket with the same number as one of my shipmates, and they wouldn't let us swap with somebody else. Fucking Fomalhaut, but I wanted some variety, not . . ."

"I know what you mean." Terry glanced at his shipmate, remembering the weight of Garth's muscular body mounted on his own. Terry felt Garth's hand tighten on his shoulder. "After being in Space for a while, you get hungry for some fresh meat."

"Yeah, but unless we find some-fucking-body soon . . . Ever been to Werglath III? They got it set up so there's no fucking chance that you'll pay for it: ya gotta strip at one of the locker houses, and then swim -- buck naked -- to the island in the fucking middle of a little lake."

"Sure, but then you get your pick of some nice, clean studs. They're all real physical culture nuts -- and they look it, too. Where my ship landed, they don't have an island; but there was a big raft anchored in middle of the river and you have to swim out to that." Terry's gaze wandered to a tall, broad- shouldered youth; there was something familiar about that big blond, but --"

"How 'bout Crucis 35? There, they make ya pay for it -- or sell it."

"Ummm?" Terry watched the blond youth in tight pants amble by.

"Ya strip, and a couple appraisers look ya over, set a price, and hang a fucking price tag 'round your neck. It's usually raining there, but in the park, they got little paths with roofs over 'em."

"Who buys, then?"

"Same studs. I mean, ya get priced at fifteen, and ya find a stud ya like who's priced at twenty: ya pay him the fucking difference to make him."

"Might be fun," said Terry. "Still, I like the setup back home: We're right next to a little forest on the edge of town, so whenever the wife's out of sorts or I'm feeling 'specially hot, I can trot over for a quick trick under the trees and maybe bring him home for lunch afterwards."

"Well, I'm right on the beach, so I just leave my clothes in the closet and pop down the back stairs and there the fuck I am. The wife likes to meet the studs I make it with, though; and the only time she got mad was when I brought in the same surfer three times running. But otherwise . . ." Garth's voice trailed off.

Terry glanced at his shipmate, saw that he was looking intently at someone on the path that ran by the park bench. But when Terry looked in the same direction, he saw nothing new -- just purple trees, a few people strolling along the path. A tall, blond youth glanced at Terry, then at Garth.

"What's the matter?" asked Terry.

"That blond stud."

"Yeah? He's been by here a couple of times, come to think of it."

"Wearing real tight fucking clothes, too."

"Yeah. Good set of muscles under them."

"Hung good, too."

"Yeah."

The muscular youth slowed, then stopped. Terry licked his lips slowly; the big blond did the same, a hint of a smile on his face now. Terry hesitated, then nudged Garth and scrambled to his feet.

"Huh?"

"Come on," said Terry.

"Uh -- hi," said the blond youth. "N-new in town?"

"Yes," said Terry, and was suddenly at a loss for words.

Garth put out his hand. "I'm Garth." He and the youth shook.

"I'm -- Wolfgang."

"And I'm Terry. Hi." Terry held out his hand; the youth had a strong grip. "You're -- uh -- from around here?"

"I got a place just a block away." Wolfgang gestured.

Terry let his gaze run slowly down the youth's muscular physique. "Uh -- aren't you pretty tight down there, Wolfgang?" Terry asked. "You're -- so well hung . . ."

The big youth grinned happily, suddenly relaxed and at ease. He patted the tight bulge at his crotch. "It is pretty tight, yeah. Maybe we could go to my place and -- relieve the pressure a bit?"

Terry grinned back. "Let's go."

Garth laughed and started to unzip his shirt. "Fuck yeah!"

"Hey -- wait," objected Wolfgang. "Not here. Wait until we get to my place."

"Sorry -- I forgot where the fuck we are." Garth re-zipped his shirt.

Wolfgang led Terry and Garth along the path, out of the park, and to a little 'crete-block house. Inside, Garth and Terry waited until Wolfgang began to take off his clothes, then stripped too. In moments, all three stood naked, hard-cocked, and ready.

Terry stared hungrily at Wolfgang; stripped, the big blond looked superb. "Want to take us one at a time," Terry asked, "or both of us at once?"

"A three-way? Hey, that'd be great!" Wolfgang turned, dived into a pile of pillows at one end of the room. "Come on -- let's go!"

Terry and Garth glanced at each other, then jumped onto the blond youth. They wrestled for a moment, then sorted themselves out: Garth engulfed Wolfgang's cock and started sucking; Wolfgang took Terry's. They disengaged, squirmed into new positions, linked up again -- this time with Terry sucking Wolfgang and Wolfgang sucking Garth's hard shaft.

Before anyone shot his load, they separated again. Wolfgang said, "Uh -- you guys are gonna have to show me stuff. I've done things with guys, yeah; but just with one guy at a time."

"You're doing great, stud," said Garth. He gave Wolfgang a hug, then scrambled to his feet. "Where the fuck do you keep the oil?"

Wolfgang sat up, pointed, then lay back beside Terry and asked, "As hot as you are now, how come it took so long to -- you know -- get interested, back in the park?"

"Oh, that," said Terry. "That was a first time for both of us." He looked up as Garth knelt and began oiling up Terry's and Wolfgang's hard shafts.

"What do you mean, a first time for you two?" asked Wolfgang. "I thought you -- ah, that feels good!"

"Here's something that'll feel a fucking lot gooder," said Garth. He capped the oil, set it aside, and stretched out on his back beside the big blond youth. "Climb aboard." Garth spread his thighs wide and raised them high.

Terry watched closely as Wolfgang mounted. Garth tensed his body against Wolfgang's entering thrust, then squirmed as Wolfgang eagerly slid his prong in to the hilt. The blond youth pulled back, thrust himself in deep again.

Wolfgang turned to Terry. "Are you . . . ?"

Terry nodded, then knelt astride Wolfgang's thighs. He leaned forward, guided his shaft into the muscular youth's butt. Wolfgang was a tight fit; Terry thrust harder, and his glans snapped into the blond. Terry eased the rest of his shaft into the hot passage. He lowered his chest onto Wolfgang's broad back, wrapped his arms around Wolfgang's muscular chest. After a moment, Terry felt the big youth slowly begin to pump his shaft into Garth.

"For a stud doing a three-way for the first time, you're fucking near perfect," panted Garth.

"Real good at this end too," said Terry, as he began to pump with his own shaft. "Hey, Wolfgang . . ."

The blond raised his head, looked back over his shoulder. "Uh -- yeah?"

"When we were in the park -- that was the first time we ever cruised a stud with his clothes on. We didn't realize that you were -- are -- available."

"You sure know it now," said Wolfgang with a laugh, gradually accelerating his stroke.

"I'm -- we're used to studs stripping down first, so we can look 'em over already naked," Terry explained, thrusting faster with his own hard shaft.

"Like I said," Garth panted, "this planet is something out of the fucking twentieth century -- but with studs like this under their clothes, who cares?"

"Yeah?" Still accelerating his pace, the big blond asked, "Uh -- when we've shot our loads, can we swap around and try it again?"

Terry laughed. "Wolfgang, I was just getting ready to ask you the same question."

"And after that," Garth suggested from the bottom of the pile of muscular virility, "maybe we could wash off and then suck some more cock. Right now -- let's fuck!"

Become a Patreon to support Taletopia!

written by falkon