(The science in this story is correct, the rest of it is pure hokum dreamed up one day while I was at La Plata, suburban Buenos Aires, watching a polo match. Sex is sex no matter where, when or how.
The President thought about it, NASA thought about it but, mostly, Bill and I thought about it. What’s “it”? In this case that's the idea of sending two men into space with the assurance that they would, in all probability, never return. “It’s” that simple but that puzzling to all who contemplated it…..except the media who would have had a field day with the idea of sending two gay men into beyond distant outer space for whatever the purpose. Name one gay Astronaut…...ever. Now, unknown to all but a very few, there were to be two: Bill and me….I’m Trace.
All of this was the upshot of years of planning, engineering, thought, discussion as well as, almost an afterthought, the people who would “man” the space craft. It was assumed that it would be a man and a woman, hopefully married but certainly close plus sexually “aware” (their word as I read) of one another. Supposedly it was the Vice President who wondered, aloud, what might happen if she got “knocked up”? In space? That was a stumper as no design included a layette or storage for diapers. Again the Vice President, again aloud, said, “Well, I guess we need two gay men”. The logic was terrific plus a do-able solution but selling that to the public, not to mention NASA, wasn’t going to be easy…..if at all. Then there was the media……...
As suggested above, there were no “Gay” Astronauts so, on a deep background basis, a search was conducted by NASA (and others with an interest such as the Federal Government) through their current employees….which is how Bill was found. Never one to keep secrets, the lab he worked in (developing the Fusion Engine) knew all about his preferences as well as the man he preferred: Me. I was also at NASA but in the maintenance department. We met when I was cleaning the lab…..figure it out.
We didn’t live together but each of us owned one half of a duplex which shared a pair of garages not to mention a door in the master bedrooms that connected the two properties. There was no intent to hide anything but also no reason to publicize what could have been looked on….with not quite approval by all who might concern themselves. Security at NASA is deep and all involving so our living arrangements, not to mention sleeping activities, would have drawn some care as to the (too) many who did not see Gay sex as A Good Thing. (When all this came about we wondered about the Vice President….)
In a very real sense our lives could have wandered on quite pleasantly if it had not been for the “Palmer Project”, a little known bit of exploration of the Sun, using a vehicle that could, and did, travel at 430,000 miles per hour. Think of it this way, imagine going around the earth almost nineteen times in one hour. The faster version, which Bill was working on, would go 500,000 mph carrying, as suggested, a crew of two persons; No sexual preference considered. He was excited beyond what I can explain to the extent that our sex life up scaled itself in a ratio in line with the speed of light as well as beyond. While I found myself, occasionally, with a smile that wouldn’t come off, I was getting bow legged from being fucked too fast as well as too often…...a tattoo of the sun on my ass seemed oddly appropriate.
All of this was about discovering if there was a “Heliopause” and, if so, what did it do that wasn’t speculations from here on earth. Beyond all the planets-and a planetoid (we can’t forget Pluto)-the theory was it was the place where our sun had no influence of any sort: No particles, no magnetosphere, no light other than what a small star would have, just an area that was the exit marking the end to our known (and speculated about) Universe. Not every scientist quite believes all the preceding which is why an expedition to study it was planned. Enter Bill and me.
Privately we’d discussed how sex might be in a place with no gravity. No force to help you in or out, just a waiting hole that needed, and wanted, to be filled. Hovering over a body, that wanted to be fucked, wasn’t a course taught anywhere as simulating, even if very stimulated, lack of gravity on earth is only possible with ropes, cords, pulleys etc. Even that only approximates but cannot give the feeling of “nothingness” some visitors to space had described.
(To be accurate, Bill enjoyed stringing me up….then leaving me there saying he was approximating being weightless in a capsule. Apparently it was a thoughtfully equipped capsule as, included, was a flogger which did not seem to need gravity to pull the leather strands through the air onto my ass. Also, when he got beneath me, it was a challenge to withhold sperm when sucked….on the theory that it wouldn’t easily run out in a place lacking gravity. Too, our first stop was going to be at the International Space Station where the ship headed out to forever was to be assembled. I wondered if some delicate questioning would lead to answers as to sex as it might be practiced while weightless…)
One night, as I was screwing him, I thought of some things that had no connection to our sexual activity. As I played with his nipples I wondered what it would be like to never again see or experience anything “earthly” in quality or reality. While I was enjoying him there were thoughts of….things. Clouds. Flowers. Sky….the smells which become expected, even if they’re not always pleasant. Bill seemed to realize I had lost some interest in him but drifted into my own thoughts. He asked, so I told him.
“We’ll be just like this even if we’re watching Jupiter or the rings of Saturn.” I forgot about clouds, sky and flowers and concentrated on him as well as the rest of our lives…..going someplace. Together.
