A Futa Futcha

"Just gonna get myself showered Captain." she grinned ...well aware that Justine's eyes would be following her movement towards the lift and so she made sure to give that pert ass of hers a wiggle as she reached the lift to the bowels of the vessel and tapped the 'call' button. For a few moments she stood there gently staring at the ceiling and absent mindedly tapping the back of her head against the bulkhead in time to some tune that warbled around her mind as she waited.

With a sudden gentle hiss the lift opened and Tash swung inside and jabbed at the floor number ...the doors slid shut and she left the rest of the bridge crew staring at the closed brushed metal door and Justine muttering under her breath about 'having that sweet pert ass' one of these days.

A few moments later the lift doors swooshed open and Tasha found herself staring straight into the mischievous eyes of Martinique as she rested against a bulkhead, something about her gave her the air that she was up to something, not that this was in and of itself unusual, as Marti usually was up to something, it was that delicious deviousness that so endeared her to Tasha.

"Hey Marti." Tash grinned as she rounded the corner and made her way through into the shower block.

Martinique returned the greeting and watched as the lithe alluring form of her occasional carnal companion as she slipped into the shower block. She knew well the routine of her friend and it wouldn't have been the first time that she had followed her into the shower cubicle in order to indulge in some lurid lady loving that would leave then hotter, grimier and stickier than when they had first entered the cascade of water ...but not tonight ...no tonight was different. Tonight she had plans!

She dipped her hand into her pocket and fished out the small syringe that she had procured just before the ship had taken off, her eyes gleamed at the emerald promise that swished gently within the glass chamber. It was one thing to stretch Tasha velvet depths with several inches of strap on ...but the idea of sporting a rampant rutting rod and feeling every inch of grip against her as she plunged deep into Tasha's 'snatch' was toe curlingly delicious.