In that hour she learned, experienced and eventually understood a level of closeness and intimacy that she could never have dreamed of before: the importance of gentleness and consideration; the stimulation of controlled aggression; the all-enveloping bliss of total surrender to the moment. The musical instrument that was a woman’s body that, in the right hands, could be played to perfection by an artiste. The rugged terrain that was a man’s body. A realisation that they too could be brought to heights that stripped them of their controlled persona and reduce them to the raw animal that was uncontrolled bliss.
She’d slept well that night.
Only when intimacy beckoned, she learned, could she hitch. And she did, again and again. By the time her seven-day break in New York was over she knew her sister and Carl significantly better than she had ever believed possible. She also knew that she had to have what they had. Regular and quality sex. She was too immature to notice that she only experienced the emotions linked to sexuality.
Upon her return to school she thrust herself into the melee and within six months had been so disappointed with what the local boys had to offer she’d driven herself half mad with frustration. The unsophisticated fumblings of her peer group almost repulsed her. Even when she hitched to her classmates the results were inevitably the same. She began to despair. As her disappointments continued her frustration grew as her needs went unsatisfied.
Her seventeenth birthday had been the first turning point. A classmate’s vacationing parents had made the inevitable mistake of letting their son arrange a party during their absence. A senior boy; she’d managed to gain an invite as a few months previously she’d given him a blow job that had sent him half mad with the quality of her technique. It was her sister’s star turn. Sadly his own ministrations were both inadequate and frankly embarrassing. Hoping for a re run he’d urged her to come over. For the first two hours she managed to fend off his unwelcome advances then, as midnight approached, she’d made for the bathroom upstairs. Walking down the long hallway she saw one of the senior girls, a lissom Barbie look alike, knocking on one of the bedroom doors. The Hitcher, for reasons unknown to her, stopped in her tracks and watched. “Open up lover,” hissed the girl. “It’s me.” The door opened and the girl slipped in. Instinctively the Hitcher concentrated, embraced the wobble and, a moment later, felt herself inside the secretive doorknocker. It was dark in the room but the Hitcher hardly noticed. She was too intent in trying to come to terms with the feelings of her subject. Unabated rampaging arousal. She watched through the girl’s eyes as she feverishly locked the door behind her, almost manic with excitement.
As the girl turned, the Hitcher was aware of her shortness of breath. The girl was on fire. Her subject roughly embraced the occupant of the room, running her hands though long cascading hair and pressed her mouth on soft lips. The Hitcher’s mind reeled. She heard a giggle and felt her hands pushing up a micro skirt and under a thong. One part of her almost rebelled, but the other part was caught up with the passion. She felt a slim, long nailed hand press urgently between her own legs and was shocked to feel she was soaked. Moments later she felt a deliciousness as the girl’s lover hitched up the Barbie clone’s t-shirt and grabbed her breasts, squeezing, exploring. As she felt a moist tongue on her nipple the Hitcher thought she’d explode with the intensity of the feelings. She could literally smell the object of Barbie’s attraction. A strong scent that demanded exploration. She felt light headed as she ripped off the girl’s thong. She plunged her head between the perfect legs and tasted her.
That night the Hitcher learned two things. Her hitching options had now multiplied significantly, and sex between women wasn’t always the soft focus nonsense portrayed in art-house movies. It could be hard, aggressive and demanding. She liked it. No, she adored it.
As the months progressed, she learned to pick her subjects carefully. By the time she’d reached eighteen she was a veteran. By frequenting the right bars and clubs she learned to select the objects of her interest with skill and precision. She hitched and enjoyed the most perfect of men and the most beautiful of women and sometimes, to her utter delight, both at the same time. She hardly bothered trying to do it for real as her own experiences paled into insignificance when compared to those that came with her gift. She all but gave up trying. ‘Why bother?’ she thought.
By twenty-one she considered herself a connoisseur of the erotic. In her search for the ultimate rush her exploration widened and she took to stalking those who she felt were sufficiently hedonistic to provide her with the stimulation to satisfy her need for a bigger hit. She gave herself over to the eclectic, the exotic and the bizarre.
One evening, as she stood naked in a dark room with her arms bound above her, enduring the lash of a masked man’s bullwhip, a thought occurred to her. She felt her subject twist as the leather resounded on her back and briefly savoured the feelings of subjugation and submission and the release that they promised. As the whip fell again she arched her back and savoured the fine line between pain and pleasure. She was in too deep to realise that she was all but lost in her search for the ultimate experience of sensuality. As the whipping continued she was torn between her new thought and the possibilities it offered and the deliciousness of her total abandon to the man abusing her. The pain of her predicament focussed her thoughts but the arousal of her ‘Hitchee’ confused them. She tried to concentrate on the thought process whilst part of her savoured the submission of her subject. One more stroke was enough. It was time for an experiment. She jumped out.
She sat in a large hotel lobby and watched couples collecting their keys at reception, returning from dinner and nights out. She studied each couple carefully until she found what she wanted. It didn’t take her long. She rarely made mistakes. Her selection made, she initiated her experiment and hitched.
It was different. Incredibly different. Thrillingly different. She felt her muscular arms enveloping the woman. She felt the woman’s hand glide to her crotch as the embrace built in passion. She felt her erection press uncomfortably against her shorts. She marvelled in the sheer difference of a man’s experience of closeness. She revelled in his awestruck appreciation of the girl’s body. The power flowing through the man’s body threatened to overwhelm her. She felt the soft moist ring of the girl’s mouth close over his penis. So this was why they liked it so much. Their whole sexual experience was so much more localised than a woman’s. She felt the man trying to keep control, not letting the moment take him too high. And there it was. She’d never even thought about it before. He was saving himself. His thought process was an amazing mixture. A controlled abandonment to the sensation, an appreciation as to who was performing the act on him and an awareness that after it was over he would need to perform.
She embraced his adoration of the object of his affection, losing herself in his reverie. His incredulity at the softness of a woman’s body. His childlike wonder at the sensation of smelling her tousled hair. His delight at her evident appreciation of his body. And then came the moment. Her subject pushed the woman gently back and entered her. The rush. He/she was actually inside her. He/she could feel her…from the inside. The woman had given her lover the ultimate sacrifice. She’d allowed him inside her body.
As the man started to make love she marvelled at the complex thought processes he was experiencing. The sheer bliss of the moment, the delight that his ministrations were being enjoyed and the sublime pleasure of the friction on his penis. When his climax eventually came she was already hooked. The power of the explosion shook her with its power and its focus. The male orgasm was so irrevocably different than anything she could have ever imagined. And, the moment it was over, a sense of exhaustion. The release seemingly draining the man. She immediately understood what she had found so hard to comprehend in the past. Once spent, the sexual urge dropped dramatically. Intimacy remained but the vibrancy and urgency faded, the need for recuperation foremost.
After that she altered her hitching dramatica
lly. She plunged with abandon into both male and female subjects, and when she physically slept with non hitching partners the quality of her performance ensured that she was pursued relentlessly. A tiresome side effect. Though jaded, she continued her search. There was still more. A bigger high. She knew it and consequently her commitment to her addiction knew no bounds.
The nadir came on a business trip. As she nursed a drink in a hotel bar a tolerably handsome man had engaged her in conversation. She endured the exchange through amusement more than anything else. Despite her offhanded responses to his questions the man persisted. As he made his ill-disguised pitch an idea formed in her mind. A new slant that, incredibly, she’d never considered before. She practically force marched him to her hotel room.
As he was about to enter her she hitched and experienced him entering her. She watched herself savour the pleasure she was giving herself. He seemed to know her body better than she did. Every nuance of her eclectic needs were addressed. She watched herself in throes of ecstasy and lost herself in his delight at her abandonment. He was satisfying her, really satisfying her. Though she couldn’t feel it she could see her own reactions. Her bell was not just ringing, it was sounding relentlessly out of control. Her subject knew this and savoured every moment. She sank herself into his enjoyment. She was a passenger on her own train to paradise.
As the lovemaking intensified she let every fibre of her being connect with his enjoyment of her passion. This was intensity beyond belief. It was what she had been seeking. She basked in his pleasure at her responses and his own sensations. She marvelled at his seemingly encyclopaedic knowledge of the location of every button she had. As she came close to the moment she made a decision. Seconds before her climax she dropped back into her body to experience what she knew was to come. And then it came. The orgasm that had been building deep within her. The first waves made her dizzy. Wave upon ever increasing wave flowed inexorably from between her legs to the extremities of her body. The final tsunami ripped through her with an intensity that threatened sensory overload. As her body convulsed she was aware that even her fingertips tingled.
When it was over she lay in his arms totally overcome and satisfied. “That was incredible,” she confessed. Her partner gently caressed her hair. “It was,” he admitted. “Jesus, even your fingertips tingled.”
She pulled back from him in shock. He smiled at her. “What?” he said. “Did you think you were the only one who could do it?”
- The End -
ALIENS
The exobiologist scratched her head as she tried yet again to asses her findings. Her report was way overdue and she was concerned, she had a reputation to maintain. She stared out of the window in frustration at the enigma that were the inhabitants of the planet below. The captain’s table awaited and he didn’t like to be kept waiting. After all, it was her job to study new races and report her expert findings, a role in which she normally excelled. Her input was vital; indeed no contact would be made with an alien species until it had been assessed that there was benefit to both sides. Too many mistakes had been made in the past and valuable resources wasted.
She studied her findings yet again. Firstly, they were extremely fragile as they were almost totally composed of liquid. It was frankly amazing that they held together at all. Incredibly, they also had to constantly absorb gas to survive. Their method of communication was extremely unusual. It comprised of vibrating various body parts to create an atmospheric based harmonic which could apparently be registered and interpreted by other members of the race. It had taken an inordinately large amount of computer time to decipher these harmonics and construct a model of what they used as a language.
It was the language model that had caused her the most difficulty. At first it was seemingly incomprehensible. It was only her enormous experience and the powerful mainframe on the ship which had enabled her to painstakingly put together a highly complex algorithm that had finally made interpretation possible. That was when her real problems began.
The captain gently chided her on her lack of progress. “It’s most frustrating I must admit,” she said as she enjoyed her meal. “Not only is their method of communication bizarre, and believe me I’ve seen a few unusual races, but it’s formalised to a degree beyond imagination. They have an enormously complex protocol involved in social interaction. It’s not even true communication as we understand it, it’s more like giving hints to whomsoever you’re communicating with and letting them join the dots. They use a vast range of highly refined visual and vocal structures which are designed to disguise what they’re really saying. How they impart information to others of their race seems to be more important than the actual information itself. To communicate what you really mean seems to be impossible, indeed it appears to be culturally unacceptable. How they actually developed technology is a mystery. And don’t get me started on their mating rituals; I’m amazed they actually procreate at all. God knows why they even bother.”
The captain smiled. “I think I’ve heard enough, Doctor.” He touched a pad on the table. “Bridge, we’ll leave orbit immediately and continue on our way.”
The ship slowly manoeuvred a safe distance from the Earth and initiated the Star Drive.
- The End -
WARRIOR
At the priest’s instruction the congregation knelt and prayed. Somewhat stiffly the Major followed suit. Three rows behind him a woman nudged her husband sharply in the ribs and hissed, “There’s something I never thought I’d live to see.” Her long-suffering spouse regarded the object of her observations and blinked in amazement. The general had been in the military long enough to know of the uneasy relationships his charges had with the Almighty, but to see the major in this place was something that he could have never predicted. The priest also glanced uneasily over the rim of his half moon spectacles, noticing the Major for the first time and shivered. He regarded himself as a force for good. He knew that the soldier now bent at prayer had vanquished more evil than he ever would, but the man scared him.
The major was the most outstanding individual under the general’s command; indeed he was one of the most highly regarded and well-decorated servicemen in the entire armed forces. In this age of high tech weapons when it was fashionable to look less admiringly at that highly trained and able group of men known as ‘special forces’, the major was a legend. A consummate commander and a veteran of Panama, Grenada, Iraq, Afghanistan and numerous ‘black ‘ops’ under contract to the CIA. His achievements and exploits were legendary amongst those with the security clearances to know his work. The major was an enigma and a solid gold asset. Possessed of a loving wife and two delightful daughters, he was famed as a family man beyond repute, but the enemies of the state saw a very different side. The general knew him to be a totally ruthless cold-blooded killer. The jungles of Central America and the backstreets of the Middle East were the theatres where he plied his deadly trade. Many a warlord or drug baron had quietly vanished after having been tagged for the major’s personal attention.
His reports made for chilling reading, as did his methods. You didn’t assign the major to a task, you unleashed him. Whether it be assassination or a full-blown military engagement, the man delivered. It was only his acerbic and blunt manner that had kept him from higher office. The general was aware that the major had the intellect to appreciate this. The general also knew that the major was doing what he did best…he was a soldier…plain and simple.
The major felt the general wife’s eyes on his back and his keen hearing heard her words perfectly. Not ten days ago that hearing had proved very useful in a Sudanese slum. There were three empty spaces at the mosque the following day as a result. Africa beckoned next. A particularly brutal dictator was living on borrowed time. From the moment the major had received his assignment the despot’s days had been numbered.
It was not of his mission that the soldier thought now. He’d come to this place as a last resort. He wasn’t a God fearing man. He feared nothin
g. He’d come as a result of a nagging pain in his chest. The men in white coats had told him that he had a year at most. He certainly wasn’t afraid of dying, but he was afraid for his family afterwards. He knew he could protect them against anything while alive, but he of all people knew what the world was like. He had been assured that this was one battle that he could not win, and the bleakness of leaving those he truly loved was intolerable. He’d begun to quietly make the arrangements necessary for the dark days ahead and had concluded that his love for his family demanded he try every option to keep them safe. And so he prayed for them. He prayed that for them after he was gone. He felt no awkwardness at being in this place; for him it was a matter of covering every base, no matter how extreme.
So massive was the heart attack that struck him he didn’t have time to even register the pain as he pitched forward in his pew.
He’d never learned to ride a horse and yet he was riding one now. The soldier thundered across a grassy veldt under an impossibly beautiful blue sky. The wind tore through his hair and made his eyes water as his powerful mount made short work of the undulating land. He was aware that he had never felt so alive. He breathed in deeply, the smell of the rich earth and the scent of flora around him filling his head.
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