Slave World by Johnny Stone

priorities after all. I took my helmet off, glancing at John in the seat next to me. The whole episode with Carlos had really gotten my juices flowing. Trust me, the soggy warmth in my panties proved it.
    “John?”
    “Yes, Margo.”
    “Would you ah…wait five minutes and then come back to my cabin?” I stood, running my hand delicately across his plastisteel shoulder. I just wished John could take charge instead of me initiating things all the time. I was so accustomed to being used for sex for so many years that I’d grown to accept it and strangely like it over time.
    “Of course, Margo.”
    A growing sense of wanton urgency propelled me from the cockpit, while my body started revving up again like a finely tuned engine made for a single purpose.
    “Captain Margo?”
    “Yeah?” I entered my cabin with a breeze of awakening air, letting out an all too common breath of annoyance again, whenever my resident pervert decided to harass me.
    “I’ve noticed a distinctive change in your physiology over the last several hours: increased respiration and blood pressure, a spike in body temperature accompanied by increased vaginal secretion and…”
    You can’t hide anything from a damn AI, can you? “What do you want, Mark?” I kicked off my boots, letting them thunk against the duralloy bulkhead.
    “Can I watch, please?”
    “What? No, you can’t watch! This is…it’s private.” My flight suit came off, kicked to the corner in a rustling flurry of impending pleasure.
    “Oh come on, I covered your ass back there. We’re partners now, right? I’ve been nice to you lately, haven’t I?” My bra-strap and panties came off in a flurry of impending excitement. I was right; they were soaked.
    “If you mean by being nice, that you turned the water ice cold on me in the shower so you could laugh while I jumped around like an idiot, and then made fun of my mosquito bite nipples, then yes, you’ve been nice.”
    “Look, I’m sorry, let me watch. I can help numbnuts out, really? I can tell him exactly what to do to get you off, I swear.”
    “John doesn’t need any help with…Ugh! No, and that’s the last time I’m going to tell you!” I dimmed the lights to a romantic mood setting twilight, then lit the incense burner and started a loop of my favorite songs on the disk player.
    “Goodbye, Mark, privacy on and I don’t want to be disturbed, got it?”
    “You’re nothing but a damn tease, you know that?” My teeth clenched in fading anger. That dickhead always has to get the last word in, doesn’t he?
    I padded anxiously over to the manual environmental controls in my cabin, turning the temperature up to a steamy eighty-eight degrees, with seventy-five percent humidity. I love to sweat during sex; it turned me on even more – not to mention, help burn away unwanted pounds.
    I dove through the air, landing on my bed, bouncing, giggling in exuberant giddiness. With panting breaths and a rosy cheek smile, I went to my knees. Nimble fingers moved over my slightly pudgy stomach and through the small tuft of damp hair between my thighs, testing the waters. Oh yeah… They slid effortlessly over the sensitive heat of my large, rumpled labia, enthusiastically slick with desire, again. Come to think of it, I’m not sure if there’s ever a time that I’m not horny. I pushed down, letting the excess skin run between my fingers like billowing silk, shivering as my palm ground against the engorged knot of my clit. Looks like it’s about time for another rejuvenation, I thought glumly. Guess I should have known that by all the noise it made when John finger fucked me earlier.
    My problem was I liked big cocks, I mean really huge ones, and the coveted feeling of yielding surrender that stays with me for hours afterwards. Thing was, it took a toll on how should I say, the aesthetics of my genitalia like you wouldn’t believe. I know John didn’t care, but it still bothered me when it got that flabby look to it.