seven sensual short stories, sure to sully someone’s skivvies.

Pre Mars mission

♀ + ♀ Training for space was never so sexy.

Project Pre-Mars, Botanist’s log, Day 1

My name is Karen Conrad and I am the lead botanist for the pre-Mars mission. I have never done logs like this before, but I did write in a diary when I was younger, so that’s how I will treat this. Our only guidelines were to share anything we want at the end of the day, so here I am.

I have been selected along with seven others to form a small colony in the Sahara desert in an attempt to emulate the conditions we will face in a desolate deserted planet with only limited supplies, state of the art technology, and our wits about us.

Of course, Mars is dramatically cooler, but we should never feel the cold of that desolate planet, just like in this experiment we will try our best to avoid the heat. We can’t go outside without a spacesuit, and those along with all of our buildings will be temperature-controlled. That leads us to my primary objective, develop an “atmosphere” and create a sustainable food system, no biggie I know.

My only experience before this comes from running my farm and teaching a few farming courses at the community college. But this seemed like a once in a lifetime opportunity to do something truly valuable with my life and meet someone new. It’s hard to date when you’ve known the same 200 people in your county your entire life, and very few of those even play for your team.

Now that being said, they asked us not to have relations, since it could complicate things. We are meant to focus on our primary objective, not on our love life. Or the lack thereof in my case. So really, no sex should be no big deal, I’ve spent the last 3 months practicing.

The plane ride here was the closest I’ve ever felt to being on a rocket and it definitely helped make this experience surreal, but it couldn’t compare to what I saw shortly after getting off the plane. It was something truly out of this world, something I thought would have such a powerful gravitational force I would be forced to orbit it for an eternity. I’m of course talking about Joe Anne’s ass.

She was wearing stylishly torn, tight, blue jeans that were hugging her perfectly, showing off how often she practiced the dreaded leg day. Her thighs looked like they could pop watermelons, but her perky, plump, beautiful ass just looked like a face pillow. Not just any pillow though, the kind that at the end of a hard day you might need to shove your face into it and scream.

Her stained-black hoodie had the sleeves rolled up to show off her much more expensive sleeves of tattoos. Her short, black hair was in a ponytail, to keep it out of her face which I’ll admit when I wasn’t lost around her equator or the black hole I wanted to disappear into hiding under her stretched denim, I noticed her mole in the traditional beauty mark area. I took that as some glorified proof to myself that I hadn’t just been a complete perv, while also realizing I definitely should have had a booty call before leaving. A nervous, excited sexual energy was emanating out of me as if I were back in college. Personally, I blame the number of beautiful women I’m being forced to work with for that. It wasn’t just Joe Anne. Two others there also made it difficult to control my eyes while we stood and waited for the last few “astronauts” to get off their flights and join us.

The walk to the van didn’t make my urges any less desirable as I couldn’t help eye humping the other women in motion. Their swaying hips were hypnotic, but I tried my best to stay focused, professional, and strategic. I got the seat next to Joe. Her muscular thighs pressed into mine and gave off enormous amounts of heat—despite the strong A.C. in the van, she kept me warm.

After two hours of driving, we arrived at our secluded location. A small base had been made to simulate what it would be like if we continued to live on the spaceship we landed on. Everyone would get their own sleeping quarters but the kitchen and bathroom were shared.

I was lucky to get space for work as well, I know from the meeting Suzie our construction expert has to work outside, while Joe would just float to whatever area she’s needed. And I need to remind myself that was needed, not wanted.

But for today we were welcomed to just relax and explore what would be our home for the next year. The only real warning that stuck out to me was that we were warned not to create romantic relationships, in case they get complicated and we still need to work with one another.

So, I signed the stupid sheet of paper, saying I would try.

Project Pre-Mars, Botanist’s log, Day 2

I’ve fucked up. By “up” I’m referring to Joe Anne, but let me start from the beginning. Even though Mars won’t have normal Earth days, we were still going to try and run on 24-hour cycles, to keep a normal structure for everyone.

We had to be up and ready to eat breakfast by eight, in the kitchen. The hub that we lived in was beautifully built into layers towering with bedrooms at the top, bathrooms under us, captains quarters below that, then the kitchen and hang out space including the mandatory fitness machines because if we were on Mars, the gravity would mess with our bodies more if we weren’t active.

And at the very bottom was my greenhouse. We’re attempting Hydroponics, but for all vegetables, not the select leafy greens that can go without soil. So, the basic plan is a room covered in the safest plastic we could find spread on a slope. At the bottom of the slope is a very large fish pond with some tilapia and sucker-fish living in it. Ideally, we will feed them our food scraps and the urine and poop that comes out of them will be shot through drip feeders to the plant beds, each cradled on the side of the slope with good drainage so the nutrients can be carried to the plants with water, then leave and not drown the roots. And if we’re lucky, we can eat the fish once they’ve mated a few times, just so we’re not fully vegetarian.

Sure they gave us freeze-dried astronaut food, and a month’s worth of frozen produce, but the goal of the mission is to be fully sufficient in doing everything it takes to live here. And I think we can. So, I spent most of my day ensuring fish were happy in their new home and starting to germinate a variety of seeds so in a few days I’d have some sprouts to plant. That and setting up the garden beds, which was the back-breaking labor I loved.

There was a mandatory group lunch in between my work but it was extremely awkward small talk. Just like any time you force people to be social, it’s something that needs to fall into place naturally, I think at least.

After lunch, I beelined it back to my garden beds. I couldn’t stand the other crew members complaining about the heat, especially if Joe skipped out on the “mandatory” meal. Each bed needed rocks for drainage put down, then soil and with 465 square feet of workable space there was well over 100 of these buggers I had to do. There was no pressure to get them all done today, so I settled on just doing a quarter, which meant I’d have some to do tomorrow and maybe the next day, too. But for now, the shower was calling my name.

Caked in sweat and soil I struggled to climb the stairs, not running into any of the other crew members until the bathrooms. The bathroom was broken up into some private stalls for the toilets, and a shower curtain was covering the communal showers—an open space with three shower-heads and some racks to hold our soap.

And honestly guys, you want us not to form romantic relationships but you’re encouraging us to get hot, naked, and wet in the showers together, tsk, tsk.

So there I am, looking like a pig in heat, my boots clunking with every step as I walk toward the sound of rushing water dripping off a body, praying it’s not one of the men as I pulled back the curtain. Jackpot.