by Anna London
I pitched my butt and that’s when I saw it: A bright, white light seemingly floating weightlessly in the sky. And when I say it was floating, I mean it was just sitting their stock still. I thought it was a little weird, but let me tell you a little something about New Mexico—Hell, the southwest as a whole—they're a lot of strange things that go on up in the sky on a daily basis, particularly in the middle of the night. The fact is, they're all kinds of active military bases out in the desert, and most of them run 24/7. Basically, if you see a bright white light in the middle of the night sky in either New Mexico, Arizona, Utah, or Nevada, 99 times out of 100, it’s just the air force holding nighttime maneuvers or testing aircraft over American soil that they shouldn’t be testing. I know, considering what I do for a living, I know what I just said made me seem like a complete jerk. But there are so many hacks in the world who fake UFO stories just for attention that you can’t help but become a little jaded. Yes, I want to believe, but sometimes it’s so hard to.
But this light, I just couldn’t take my eyes off of it. There was a brilliance to it that I’d never experienced before. It was literally otherworldly, and there was a reason for that. Suddenly. the light bloomed with a dull orange explosion as if something had struck it, and I watched as this dazzling light began to fall from the sky. Actually, fall probably isn’t the best way to describe it. Rocketed is a far more accurate description, and from my perspective, it looked like it was rocketing right towards me. I should have been panicking, I should have stomped on the gas of my rental car and gotten the hell away from there as fast as it would take me. But it was like I was hypnotized, and I instead put the car in park, left it idling and watched as this light came at me like a comet.
It passed right over my head. It was so close that I could feel the heat radiating from it, and it hit the ground with such a roar and crash that it left my ears ringing. Now, if I was a sane person, I would have been running. I would have even forgotten my car entirely and just hoofed it out of there and I probably wouldn’t have stopped until a police officer noticed my bloody feet and sun-blistered skin and made me stop. But apparently I’m not sane. Apparently, I have zero problems with running towards an unidentified flying object that just roared over engulfed in flames. But the fact was, I felt like I was 7-years-old again. I felt like that little, lonely girl traveling the country with her grandparents and playing make belief with the stuffed alien my grandpa had bought me. This thing that had crashed before my very eyes was validation for spending a lifetime dreaming about alien worlds and flying saucers. Or maybe it was just an experimental aircraft that had malfunctioned? But I had to see for myself.
I came to the wreckage expecting nothing but flame and ash so hot that I couldn’t even approach it. I expected body parts and raw, bloody carnage. But what I found instead was an almost completely intact flying saucer. I shit you not. Yes, there was a long trail of debris and fire where the UFO landed and slid to a stop. There were strange kinds of metal that I had never seen before with strange writing on it just like good old rancher Mack must have found back in 1947. I rushed to the intact part of the UFO and lying just a few feet away from it, I saw him, a gray man. But the closer I got to him, I came to realize that the enormous head and dark black eyes I was seeing were just a helmet of some kind and it was badly damaged.
I stepped over to the body and being too curious for my own good, I pulled the helmet off of the person, and I was face-to-face with perhaps the most beautiful male face I had ever seen. The face was pale blue, but it was the type of face you’d expect an angel or a movie star to have. I put my hand under its nose to see if he was breathing, and I felt a brush of air. For some reason, I had never felt so relieved in my life. He was alive! But what I didn’t expect was for his eyes to flutter open and look up at me with the most innocent and curious gaze that I’ve ever seen.
“Are you okay?” I yelled. Yeah, I honestly thought the spaceman could understand English. I’ve never been accused of being a genius, people.
He started to rise to his feet, but he was wobbling like he was going to fall face forward at a second, so I steadied him and slung his arm over my shoulder. Now remember how I just mentioned that no one has ever accused me of being a genius? Do you also remember me saying that I’m not exactly what you would describe as sane? Yeah, well the reason I’m mentioning this again is because if I was smart and sane, I would have just stayed where I was. I would have stood in that field with the space man slung over my shoulder and waited for the expected bevy of government helicopters to come flying to the scene and rushing me and my spaceman off to God knows where. But I’m not smart and I’m not sane. I’m a complete idiot and I walked my spaceman back to my rental car and dumped him nearly unconscious into the back seat and I drove away from what was most likely a still smoldering interstellar incident.
I don’t know how long I drove or for how far, but by the time I stopped at a dirty little motel somewhere just inside the Arizona border, I was practically falling asleep behind the wheel. The entire drive from New Mexico I was running high on paranoia and adrenaline. I expected that any moment, helicopters would flood the sky and I would suddenly be surrounded by dozens of military vehicles with heavily armed soldiers streaming out of them yelling at me to step out of the vehicle. I was so hyped that I smoked nearly a half pack of cigarettes (Yeah, sue me, tight asses.) as I drove. But to my surprise, I didn’t see a single vehicle. Seriously, not even a cranked up semi-truck making up extra miles. I was completely alone, and I couldn’t help but feel a little weird out. And because of these weird, paranoid feelings, my brain kept going into these bizarre tangents. The one thing I kept cycling around to be that I was dead, and me driving around with this angelic looking alien was my oddball version of heaven.
But everything felt real enough. I was definitely breathing, smoking, and driving. And my spaceman was most definitely real because he kept mumbling in his exhaustion in some language that was completely alien (Har-har!) to my ears. So if I was dead, then death was obviously just as vivid as life.
When I checked into the motel—which, by the way, was the very definition of “sleazy motel”—I asked for the farthest room from the office. The pale, dour-faced clerk just spoke his head, took my 50 bucks and slid my key across the worn Formica counter without saying a word to me. I drove to the end of the motel, unlocked the door and did my best to ignore the mid-20th century furnishing and the obvious moldy and mildewed carpet (Eeewwww!), then grabbed my overnight bag from the trunk, and then finally, I half carried, half dragged my spaceman inside, slammed the door behind us, and then flopped him on the double bed closest to the door.
Thankfully, he’d been semi-conscious when I dragged him into the room. But, still, shouldering the bulk of his weight and then dragging him onto the bed so that he, at least, looked like he was somewhat comfortable had wiped me out. So I turned off the light, stripped down to my bra and panties, and fell almost immediately to sleep.
***
I woke up to the sun streaming painfully into my eyes and with my mouth tasting like a rat had crawled inside of it and died. My spaceman seemed completely undisturbed by all the sun, but I had to admit I wasn’t quite ready for him to be up and around (I was still questioning my obvious lack of logic by bringing him with me.) just yet. So I tip-toed around his bed and drew the heavy, musty curtains shut and were once again in complete darkness. My skin felt like it was crawling with a thousand different kinds of bugs (And from the look of the comforter I had slept on, I’m sure that I was.), and I absolutely had to take a shower. So I rummaged around inside of my overnight bag, grabbed my toothbrush and shampoo and headed for the bathroom.
I don’t know about you, but I always do my best thinking while I’m in the shower, and right now I had absolutely TONS of thinking to do. I was still in shock about what had happened last night. A lifetime of obsession, which to is blunt had to admit I was starting to doubt was even remotely true, completely validated in the blink of an ey
e. As I stood under the steaming hot spray of the shower, I came to realize that this was the reason why I had taken the spaceman and had not waited for the authorities to come and find us. His presence, his existence was the rock hard, solid proof that I needed to keep living the life that I lived. I needed him here with me to validate my work.
And, to be honest with you, I was more than a little curious about other aspects of him. My mind kept wondering about what was underneath his spacesuit. I kept thinking about stripping him out of while he slept to see if he looked like a Ken doll without his clothes on, or if he had … Well, you know. Okay, I’ll go ahead and admit it, like most UFO nuts, I’ve had more than my fair share of fantasies about of getting nasty with an alien. Believe it or not, there are dozens of websites—most of which I’ve designed and maintain on my servers for my clients—about having sex with aliens. Obviously, most of these sites are male oriented and there're tons of photos of porn actresses painted green and sporting a third breast. But there are a few which have female-oriented content, most of its fantasy fiction of being kidnaped by aliens and then participating in an intergalactic orgy. I’ve even written and posted a few pieces myself, and they actually get a lot of traffic.
But I knew this was all fantasy, and chances are we were being followed by dozens of federal agents or at the very least dozens of them were searching for us and hot on our trail. I was in danger, and I needed to get that through my thick skull ASAP.
I stepped out of the shower and wrapped myself in one of the yellowing towels and then I heard something out in the room. I cautiously opened the door and peaked out expect a dozen guns to be pointed at me. But what I found instead was my spaceman standing in the middle of the room stark naked—By the way, he definitely did not look like a Ken doll without any clothes on—with all of the lights turned on, the television turned up to full volume, and he had my mechanical 10 inches “boyfriend” clutched in his right hand and he was staring at it like a curious dog would at a strange noise. He had the power of my “boyfriend” turned up to 10 just like everything else in the room and the head spun furiously. If I wasn’t so shocked to see him conscious and naked, I might have been a little embarrassed. Okay, I was embarrassed, but the situation was far too weird for me to be concerned about it.
I stepped into the room and immediately shut off the TV, and my spaceman turned to me and held up my “boyfriend” and asked: “What is this?”
Okay, now I was mortified because there’s nothing more awkward in the entire universe than having a naked, blue spaceman who has more than a passing resemblance to Brad Pitt ask you about your dildo.
I rushed up to him and snatched my “boyfriend” out of his hand. My head was buzzing with a million questions that have occupied my mind since I was a little girl, but the first thing I asked him was:
“You speak English?”
“Yes,” He replied, “because of the television. My species is very adept at absorbing languages once we have heard them. But you have not answered my question, what is that?”
I was completely stymied, but I managed to sputter out: “It’s … It’s a back massager.”
“A back massager? Then why does it look like male genitals?”
I stood there, my mouth agape, dripping wet, speechless. But suddenly I was furious at him and at every man across the universe.
“I use it as a replacement for male genitals, okay! Is that what you wanted to hear!”
He looked at with confusion.
“Why do you not use real make genitals? Why do you use a false one?”
“It’s … It’s complicated, alright.”
“No, it isn’t, let me show you.”
He stepped in front of me and yanked my sodden towel off of me and began pushing his very erect—and absolutely enormous—penis against me. Now he was really pissing me off and I shoved him hard towards the bed.
“Hey!” I yelled, my face and body turning bright red. “It’s not as simple as that! You just can’t stick your … genitals … into somebody! You have to do a little extra work first.” Actually, at that particular moment, he wouldn’t have had to work all that hard. Not at all.
“Very well,” He said, motioning with his hand towards the bed, “then show me.”
“Uh …” It was one of those completely unexpected moments in life that you occasionally run into. One of those moments where you either dive in head first or you regret it for the rest of your life. Of course, the last 12 hours of my life had been nothing but one of those moments. So I figured, why stop now? “Okay. Okay, sure, I’ll show you.”
I went and laid down on the edge of the worn double bed I slept on the night before and spread my legs. For the first time in my entire life, I felt completely unafraid and unself-conscious of my body. I won’t say I’m ashamed of my body, I’m a little chunky—Come on, I work in front of a computer 7 hours-a-day—and I have a bit of a muffin top. But I do work out 4 days a week, so my legs and butt are firm and muscular. Plus, I have certain other… assets … That drive man wild. And if you haven’t figured it out already, I meant my boobs when I said assets. My boobs are absolutely huge and extremely sensitive.
My spaceman stood over me, his cock dive board stiff. If I was in less control of myself, I would have grabbed him and stuffed him inside me, but how often does a woman have the chance to completely train someone on how to pleasure them? Yeah, so I was taking full advantage of the situation.
“Okay,” I said as my breath began to quicken. “Get down on your knees in front of me.”
He obediently complied and his face was now inches away from my labia. The boy was I glad I showered. I then spread myself apart with my fingers and pointed to my clitoris.
“I want you to lick that part. I want you to lick the whole thing, but really concentrate on that part. But only lick, no biting!”
He spread my legs wider with his hands and went to town. I couldn’t believe how natural his tongue movements were and within minutes I could feel my orgasm building.
“Okay … Okay, now take your fingers,” I moved his left hand from my thigh, folded his middle and pinky fingers into a fist, and guided his extended index and middle finger inside of me. “Now push those fingers in-and-out of me. That’s right … Just like that … Now a little faster.”
I writhed on the bed, my hips gently bucking and thrusting with his fingers and tongue. I was so close, I just needed a little extra something to get there. I took his right hand from my thigh and folded all of his fingers except for his index finger.
“Now take this and lick it,” I said, panting. “Get it really wet. Really wet and put it inside here.” I guided his finger to the rosebud of my ass and had him push it inside of me. “Now … Oh, God… Now move it just like you are with the other fingers.”
So this may sound a little taboo, but I actually really like anal sex—Yeah, for all of you who’ve never tried it, pick your jaw up off the floor and loosen up a little—the whole problem is most men just don’t know how to do it properly. Most guys, all they want to do is ram it in there like they’ve seen every male porn performer so their entire lives. What guys don’t get is that the women who are getting their behinds jackhammered are trained professionals. They know they’re going to have anal sex days or weeks in advance and they’ve prepared themselves. But with most women who enjoy anal sex, it’s usually a spur of the moment thing. So you have to have the guy you're with really work it. He’s got to finger it and lick it. He’s got to pamper your butt until you’re worked up enough to have him slide it into you painlessly. And once he’s inside of you, he’s got to be gentle at first, nothing but small movements and thrusts until you’re used to his size.
I didn’t think my spaceman would be getting any of that today but having his slick finger buried in their was really getting me hot and bothered.
My orgasm came in a sudden rush and I gripped his yellow hair and buried his face in my crotch as it exploded in his mouth and I rubbed myself up and down ac
ross his entire face, turning it slick and wet. Once I calmed down a bit, it was time for the main event.
“Okay,” I said breathlessly. “Put my legs on your shoulders… I’ll put you inside.”
Oh, my God, he was huge! He was the same length as my electronic boyfriend, but his girth took my breath away. I took it in my hands and guided him inside of me. He pushed himself inside of me up the hilt and I screamed with the shock of having it inside of me all at once. He stared down at me with worry and concern.
“No! No, I’m fine … I’m fine. Now take yourself and move it in and out of me just like you did with your fingers. That’s right … That’s right.”
He found his rhythm right away, but within a couple of minutes, I felt him explode inside of me and he slowed his pace. Luckily, he was eager enough to learn that he was able to keep going a couple of more hours.
