SENSUAL STARSHIP #1:
Naked on the Moon
By James Lusarde
Copyright 2011 James Lusarde
Smashwords Edition
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Warning: This is Adult Erotica - for Adult readers only
NAKED ON THE MOON
Jo
This is my moment, I thought to myself, as I started to pull down the zip of my black uniform, allowing my golden breasts to be exposed. I have been waiting for this all my life.
My uniform was one-piece and tight-fitting, which parted easily from my full chest as I pulled on the silver zip, inch by delicious inch.
You see, as soon as I was assigned to my new post on the Moon, the first thing I wanted to do was get naked.
However - listen to me - I don’t mean getting naked with just anyone: I didn’t just walk up to the first person I saw in a Moonbase corridor and say, ‘Hey, my name’s Jo, look at this fine pair of tits, would you like to suck on them?’
No. That was not my style.
I was different from that - indeed, you could say I’ve been different all my life. I’ve always had a different way of looking at things, a different way of feeling about things, you know?
For a start, when I was twenty, I joined the Star Exploration Academy - so while my friends were keen to spend their weekends riding round the back roads of the cities in their hover cars, or feeding credits into the Hologram machines at the All Night Cafe, I spent my time studying - astrophysics, astronomy, astrobiology, all kinds of stuff.
Well, as long as I still had an active sex life, of course. I made sure I didn’t cut that out.
Men, women - I was open to all partners.
But I still put a lot of time into my studies.
Let me tell you why.
Because I used to spend hours looking at the beautiful cold globe of the Moon in the sky, and thought, Moon, I want you.
It was like I was talking to it as a lover, you know? Sending out a telepathic message of need and desire.
I want you, I said mentally to the Moon as I gazed at its aching beauty. At the Academy I would stare at it for hours through the glass window of my room; and at other times I would stand at midnight in the Academy gardens, hunched up in a coat, my breath a white whisper in the air, looking up in wonder at this celestial body miles away from me out in space.
And despite the distance, I felt it was staring back at me, and that it could hear me, tuned into my intense thoughts.
My message was: Moon, I want you. I want to live on you, I want to have a future with you. I want to live on your beautiful mystery, to share the breathtaking mystery of you. I want to be there, living on you, breathing you in almost - another world.
That was the point.
I wanted to have new horizons, away from the Earth.
There, I felt like I had done it all - being naked in the gardens outside my apartment block, being naked in the fields, lying naked on the warm branches up trees on a summer’s afternoon, being naked in the seas letting the water play joyously around my clit, being naked on the soft sandy beaches; letting the warm countryside breeze play on my tanned stomach, letting the cold sea breeze play on my bare breasts, letting the hot August sun bake my naked back and shoulders - I felt like I’d experienced all that.
How can any woman not enjoy that?
We’re sensual beings, we love that.
I certainly do. I love getting naked with nature - allowing the wind to kiss my bare skin, welcoming the sensual sunlight onto my naked thighs. I will always love that - I haven’t fallen out of love with it.
Don’t worry, my darling planet Earth: I haven’t got bored with you at all.
But in my growth and development, I knew I wanted more.
And more.
Oh, God. So much more.
It’s what being human is all about.
And that was where the Moon came in. I would be in my room at the Academy, the night late, halfway through an essay, my head spinning with calculations and equations, and I would take a break by looking up from my computer and out through the window and see the Moon, gracefully high in the sky, tucked away in a corner of the cold glass, and think to myself, Oh, you beautiful, beautiful thing.
Oh, do you understand what I mean?
Have you ever felt that about the Moon?
Have you ever ached with the sheer beauty of it?
I thought, Oh Moon, sweet, sweet Moon, I want to be naked on you. I want to be like a flower growing on your surface, unique and mysterious, at home in the wonder of you, as if my naked body would be something growing out of your soil, something precious, a lovely gift on your landscape.
The wanting was so great inside me.
I want my naked body spread out like a jewel on your surface, and for starships to pass overhead and look down on me with surprise and wonder, as they see me wedded to the mystery of what you are.
Now, I’m the kind of woman who’s always wanted so much to feel exotic: I’ve already paraded my body naked and golden on the beaches of Barbados, swam naked and proud in the azure Caribbean, relaxed naked and free in the lush green Daintree Rainforest of Queensland, Australia - and now I wanted something else, something special.
Which meant off the planet altogether.
Do you understand what I mean, as you read my words, about wanting more? Pleasure is pleasure, and it’s natural to want to savour it, taste it, explore it. It’s natural to want to explore that pleasure further and further.
Your body and mind and soul always want more; you want to live life to the full, want to make your future ecstatic.
We all do.
We all want more.
And in doing that, we truly become ourselves.
So I’m sure you’ll know what I mean when I say I wanted to find new horizons, almost as if my body was commanding me to feed it with a new ecstasy, to enjoy the serenade of living.
I graduated from the Star Exploration Academy as Engineer First Class at the age of twenty-three. But I’m not going to say it was easy. I’m not even going to say I enjoyed it.
Because I’ll be honest with you. I often hated it.
I wasn’t prepared for so many things - the rules, regulations, and authority’s petty control for the sake of it. Often I regretted joining, and wanted to leave.
But every time I was about to fill in the email of resignation, something would stop me, and it would be my dream about the beautiful Moon, and how I wanted to achieve a liberation with it, a nakedness.
And so I kept slogging.
The graduation meant a lot to me, the honour of it, the achievement of it. I can remember a certificate handed to me on a hot July afternoon, the light glinting from the gold watch of the smiling Professor of Astrobiology as she handed it to me; my proud parents in the distance; and later, the smartly-buttoned band playing ragtime music as I huddled with my friends to hear their excited plans.
And within a few weeks I was assigned to Moonbase - our brand spanking new first base on the Moon.
Only just completed. Our first base out in space.
An empty round white shell of a thing, three kilometres across in diameter, the vast labyrinth of corridors and rooms waiting impatiently to be occupied.
And as I sat in the red halls of the Miami Spaceport, clutching my hand luggage as I waited for embarkation and the shuttle rocket to pass its final checks, I knew that this feeling, this travel of my body from the Earth to the Moon, was something very important, and very delicious.
This was like a baptism. A discovery of who I was, and an exploration of what it was to be human.
When the rocket blasted off from Earth, taking the first shipment of personnel to the Moonbase - a thousand of us on our first foothold towards the stars, our first outpost on our expansion into the galaxy - I sat happy and complete in my seat; feeling that my sexual journey was unfolding, something beautifully sexual was being achieved not just for me personally, but that something important was unfolding for all of us: I was making a movement forward on behalf of Womankind.
Now, I know what you’re thinking as you read this: How in hell can you get naked on the Moon’s surface?
Take your spacesuit off out there, you won’t last five seconds.
Yes, I know, I know.
I’ve thought about all that.
But let me tell you this.
Be patient. Indulge me.
If it was possible, then this is what I’d do, believe me: I’d leave the Moonbase from an airlock, my thick grey heavy spacesuit clasped around me like a claustrophobic tank, and walk out onto the surface, with the dust of grey Moon dust being kicked up by my thick boots.
And I’d keep walking, slowly, awkwardly, stumbling here and there over rocks and craters, until I was about a kilometre away from the base, so that all their tedious rules and regulations and orders would be out of sight; then, away from authority and judgement, I would love to raise my gauntleted hands to unclip my helmet from the neck plate, letting the air seep out sharply; but, I’d be safe, I’d be okay, still breathing, in some magical way, as if I didn’t need air; and then, with a laugh, with a whoop, I’d suddenly throw the cumbersome grey space helmet up into the night sky, sending it spinning away from the Moon into the night full of stars and black vacuum, as I shrieked with joy to feel free at last of its isolating embrace.
Then, naturally, off with the suit itself.
Have you ever wore a spacesuit?
Trust me on this: it’s not something you would enjoy.
No matter which one I select and how it gets fitted, it always looks and feels like something designed for a man four times bigger than me.
So.
I’d rip the gauntlets off first, then my free fingers would race at unclipping the multitude of metal clips and clasps, kicking off my boots, shrugging off the suit’s horrible clutch to reveal my naked body underneath, and then I’d gather the suit and boots in both hands and throw them hard up into the night, with a laugh, with a shout of release.
And then, just me, left below it all. Spinning in a circle on my bare feet on the grey Moon’s surface, my arms gleefully spread out wide, my collar-length blonde hair spinning out like a honey-coated fan, my body naked, golden and beautifully, beautifully free.
Free of control, free of confines, free of enclosure.
So relaxed and happy in my nakedness.
Happy in the essence of who I am.
Well, there you have it.
My fantasy of liberation.
Which I hope you like. And I’m writing it here to make it clear to you how much I would have wanted that.
So very, very much.
But you and I both know something: there’s no oxygen on the Moon’s surface. Nothing to breathe.
So my fantasy wasn’t possible.
And of course I knew this, seated on the shuttle blasting away from Earth, but with the roar of the rocket engines in my ears, I thought, well, if I can’t do that, then what can I do?