Chapter 8: Future Osa and Crew 4

The bunk room hummed with the ship’s systems and their ragged, shared breath. Osa and Kichijō lay side by side on the lower bunk, a tangle of dark and pale limbs, their bodies still glazed with the glue-white evidence of Vas’s massive, excessive creampie. The alien cum was cool now, a slick, pearlescent paste smeared across their bellies and thighs, mixing with the fresh sweat of renewed arousal.

Kichijō’s hand was already between Osa’s legs, her fingers sliding easily through the mess, finding the hot, swollen flesh beneath. Osa’s pussy was a ruined, beautiful thing—her normally neat, delicately folded labia were puffy and flared, her pierced clit a hard, prominent nub under its hood. She was so wet, her own arousal a copious, clear slick that blended with the thicker alien seed.

“Still so fucking open,” Kichijō murmured, her voice husky. She curled two fingers inside Osa, scissoring them, and Osa gasped, her back arching. “I can feel where he stretched you. It’s like a hot, wet fist around my hand.”

Osa moaned, her own hand sliding down Kichijō’s toned stomach. Kichijō’s cunt was similarly transformed—her tucked labia were now tenderly parted, her opening relaxed and hungry. Osa’s fingers slipped in, and she felt the same incredible, soaked warmth. “You too,” Osa breathed. “God, you’re so deep.”

They moved together, a slow, slippery scissor of thighs. Their pussies slid against each other, a wet, filthy kiss of swollen lips and sensitive clits. The sound was obscene—a schlick-schlick-schlick of mixed fluids. Osa turned her head, capturing Kichijō’s mouth in a deep, sensual kiss. It was all tongue and shared breath, tasting of salt and sex and something faintly metallic from the fight.