Future Osa in Space
Copyright© 2025 by Osa Oladapo
Chapter 5
Science Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 5 - Osa and her brother explore a pleasure planet filled with various sentient aliens also seeking pleasure
Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fa/Fa Mult Consensual Lesbian Heterosexual Fiction Science Fiction Aliens Space Incest Brother Sister Group Sex Orgy Interracial Black Male Black Female White Male Oriental Male Oriental Female Cream Pie Double Penetration Public Sex Small Breasts
The hum of the sub-light engines was a distant, almost forgotten vibration. In the starboard bunk room, the only sounds were ragged breaths and the slick, wet slap of skin on skin.
Osa’s back arched off the thin mattress, a silent scream on her lips. Her small, pert breasts, tipped with pierced silver, bounced with each deep, driving thrust. Above her, Kichijō’s sweat-slicked body moved with a predatory grace, her pink cherry blossom tattoo a vibrant contrast against her flushed skin. But it wasn’t Kichijō’s lean muscles Osa was feeling.
It was the thick, obscene length of the Telchine dildo strapped to the security officer’s hips.
“Fuck ... Kichijō ... right there,” Osa gasped, her fingers digging into the other woman’s shoulders.
Kichijō’s grin was fierce. “You love this fake cock, don’t you, Osa? Love how it stretches your tight little pussy.” She pistoned her hips, the polished, flesh-like material of the dildo glistening with Osa’s arousal. It was a monstrous thing—long, a good nine inches, and thick, with a pronounced, plump head that stretched Osa’s entrance with every withdrawal.
Osa could only nod, her mind hazy. Her pussy, bare and smooth, was a throbbing, dripping mess. The delicate, neatly folded lips of her labia were forced wide, flared open around the invading girth, stretched taut and shiny. Each inward stroke dragged against her swollen inner walls, a delicious, burning fullness that brushed a spot deep inside that made her vision blur.
“I’m ... I’m gonna...” Osa’s warning was a whimper.
“Come on my cock, Osa,” Kichijō grunted, her pace becoming erratic. “Soak it. Let me feel you.”
The orgasm hit Osa like a wave of static, starting in her toes and crashing through her core. Her back bowed, and a gush of fluid—not just her natural lubricant, but a clear, copious squirt—erupted from her, soaking the dildo, Kichijō’s thighs, and the sheet beneath them with a hot, audible splash.
Kichijō slowed, letting Osa ride the convulsions, a look of intense satisfaction on her face. As the tremors subsided, Osa fell back, spent. But the empty, aching need returned almost instantly, sharper than before. The toy was impressive, but it was ... cold. Silent. It didn’t throb with a pulse of its own.
“It’s not enough,” Osa breathed, staring at the ceiling.
Kichijō unstrapped the toy, tossing it aside with a wet thud. She lay down beside Osa, tracing a finger over the tiny, pierced nub of Osa’s clit. “I know,” she said softly. “The simulations ... the toys. They’re just echoes.”
The mission briefing played in Osa’s mind. Delight. Coital enlightenment guidance. Inter-genus bonding. The terms were clinical, but the promise was primal. Her open-minded upbringing had always been theoretical, a curiosity about connection. Now, it was a physical hunger. She’d felt the edges of it with Kichijō, with the few human partners before. But she craved the source. The real thing.
“The resort,” Osa said, turning her head. Her dark eyes were wide, innocent yet blazing with intent. “When we dock ... I’m going. I want to ... learn.”
Kichijō chuckled. “I’ll be your security. And your witness.” Her hand slid down Osa’s flat stomach, fingers slipping through the wetness coating her pussy. Osa’s neatly tucked labia were puffy and tender, her pierced clit a hard, eager bead under Kichijō’s touch. “But you need to be ready. It won’t be a polite, human fuck.”
“I don’t want polite,” Osa insisted, pushing her hips against Kichijō’s hand. “I want to feel everything.”
The transit lounge on Delight smelled of ozone and exotic musk. Osa wore her ‘star shine’ gown, the heat-activated lights over her breasts and pelvis glittering like a captured galaxy. She felt exposed, thrillingly so. Kichijō stood beside her in a sleek black bodysuit, a hand resting near the hidden energy pistol at her hip.
The guide was a Naharaim, his golden skin gleaming under the soft lights. “The facilitator you requested is prepared,” he said, his voice melodic. “A Telchine. Highly experienced. They are ... adaptable.”
He led them to a private chamber. The air was warm, humid, and scented with something spicy and sweet. In the center was a low, padded platform.
And standing beside it was the Telchine.
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