Space station of the sluts

“Hello, dear,” she giggled, hefting the dildo. It had a pleasant weight to it, and a soft firmness. You could bend it, but only a little, and the core stayed deliciously stiff.

“Mmm. Oh, yes.” Zanthia lay back in her station chair. She kicked her feet carelessly over the armrests, nestling her bottom all the way back. Tilting, she thrust her pussy up toward the ceiling.

“Give it to me,” she whispered, “yes.” She brushed the head of the toy against her slit; gasped for a moment at its cool touch. Her pussy felt hot and sticky, already dripping, as if her daysuit had been holding back a flood of juicy arousal. “Fuuuck,” she moaned. It was all Megan’s fault, really. The chief had left her so horny. And gone off early to closet herself with a man, too — Zanthia felt a pang of irrational jealousy.

With a groan, the medical officer thrust the long, floppy toy into her cunt. She jerked in her chair, feet kicking. The slick, wet, stretching sensation took her breath away. She kept the default setting deliberately large, big enough to strain a pussy mostly used to fingers and tongues, and her walls swelled around it, clenching tight.