Spaceport: Incognito

Spaceport: Incognito
Cat Marsters
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2008 Cat Marsters

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

Nila’s blow job booth was busy, half a dozen impatient miners waiting for her services, a couple of them already palming their cocks as they watched her blowing a Fedoran’s gigantic member. Dammit, he didn’t want to wait. Maybe one of the other girls was available.

“You want blow job, mister?” said a voice, a young man, and Jal glanced at him. Slim-hipped, Nil Raja markings twining around his cock. Fake, of course. “You want elki-palki?”

Jal shook his head. He’d tried it with male Nil Raja once or twice, but it hadn’t done much for him. He much preferred a wet pussy, a soft breast in his hand and smooth skin sliding against his. He could take a woman’s ass, though. Hmm. Maybe he’d find a girl willing to take it the back way when he was done taking the edge off.

The booths were rarely manned -- or womanned -- by Nil Raja. That wasn’t to say the prostis sucking cocks for a hundred credits a time hadn’t painted themselves with the intricate markings of the Otha, the famous Nil Rajan whore caste, or dyed their hair blue, but Jal knew an authentic Nil Raja when he saw one. And he knew that the Otha, so exquisitely skilled it was said they could make a man cream his pants with a single look, had better things to do than to offer blow jobs for a hundred credits on the corner of Jianhuo and Niubi.

The girl next to Nila was busy sucking the cock of a miner who had his eyes closed and an expression of intense concentration on his face. I hope I don’t look that stupid when I’m having sex, Jal thought, but then the miner came with a grunt, withdrew his cock and stepped away, and the girl was free.

She wasn’t Nil Raja, although something about her markings drew his attention.

For a second his heart skipped, but then he looked closer. She lacked the scarring on one wrist, and besides, her markings were all wrong. The pattern proclaimed Otha, but the exact details said Durgha, which was impossible.

No, she wasn’t Sayana.

Her hair was cut in a ragged blue bob around her ears, her lips and eyelids stained blue-violet. There were bruises on her upper arms, as if someone had gripped her hard, and what looked like bite marks on her breasts. She was dressed, if you could call it that, in a sheer pink top and a filmy skirt that displayed the Nil Raja whore caste markings, an intricate blue pattern that drew the attention to her breasts and her shaved pussy.

It was the pussy which let her down. Some Nil Raja women had blue pussies, some didn’t, but they had very neat, small labia. To a layman, the difference probably wasn’t noticeable, but Jal had become familiar with many cunts in his time, and he knew the difference like a Kitali could tell what was real latinum and what was fake.

“How much?” he asked, and she glanced up, looking tired. Her eyes didn’t meet his.

“Hundred,” she said, and he nodded and handed it over with one hand. The other was untabbing his pants, getting his cock out.

She didn’t look at him, just kept her eye on the credit scanner until it had processed his payment, whereupon she reached for his cock and smoothed her fingers over it.

Jal leaned back against the sheer plasteel barrier that separated him from Nila and her current customer, a big green guy with tentacles and a cock that darted in and out of Nila’s mouth all by itself.

“You got a name?” he asked the girl who was about to take his cock in her mouth. She looked surprised, then said, “Nirana.”

“Lund choos, Nirana. You know how to deep-throat?”

“Fifty extra,” she said automatically, holding out the credit scanner. Jal narrowed his eyes -- it was fucking robbery, that’s what it was -- but he tabbed in the extra fifty credits, and stuck his cock down her throat.

She was good. Almost Nil Raja good. Her mouth was soft and hot, her tongue wet as she licked him. No dental dam, which made a nice change. Good job he was up to date with his shots, though, because he doubted she was.

Her hands gripped his hips as she sucked him deep, the back of her throat tickling his cockhead, and Jal started thrusting. Around him, the sounds of the ’Port faded, the cries of prostis touting for business, the moans of the man Nila was servicing, the slap of flesh against flesh in the bar across the way. He stared down at the blue lips swallowing his penis, the blue hair tickling his skin, and all he could hear was the wet sound of sucking as she took him all the way in.

Her tongue tickled his balls, and he jerked as he started to come.

She was fast, yanking her head back before he spurted down her throat, but not fast enough. He came all over her face, and she looked disgusted as she reached for a wipe to get rid of it.

He half expected her fake markings to come off, but they’d at least been done properly. The pattern, which was immensely intricate and very beautiful, if totally inaccurate, swept under one eye and over the other, unmistakable to anyone remotely familiar with Nil Raja.

Jal leaned back, vaguely satisfied, and watched her clean her face. His cock was still out, but she didn’t have anyone waiting so he didn’t see why he should move along. She’d been pretty good; maybe he could hire a room with her. She wouldn’t be expensive.

“You can go now,” she said, poking at the corner of one eye. Her irises were bright blue, but she was probing her eye very delicately, as if she didn’t want to disturb the surface. Well, she was probably wearing lenses if her eyes were the wrong color. Jal knew all the fake Nil Raja tricks.

Then the surface of her iris shifted, and Jal lost his breath. Underneath the colored lens, her eye was violet.

Okay, don’t get excited, she can’t be the only woman with violet eyes. It was rare in humans, but not that rare. Think logically. Look at her face properly. Neat, pretty mouth under that blue stain, full lips. Long lashes, also dyed blue. Big eyes. A face that might be pretty if it wasn’t so gaunt and tired.

Picture her with a few kilos more, her cheeks filled out, her face sweetly rounded. Pale yellow hair -- what do they call it, blonde? Those unusual violet eyes.

Jal’s heart beat faster. It’s her. I’ve found Akalis Dalerian.