Alien Sex 102

by Allie Ritch

  He began kissing his way along her collarbone, and she watched his erection as she raked her fingers through his nether hair. In response, fluid instantly pearled on the tip of his penis, and sure enough, his midnight-blue pelt felt like satin and silk.

  Whitt’s chest rumbled with a growl of pleasure.

  Growing bolder, Spri circled his cock with her hand and slid her curved palm from tip to base. This time he shuddered and bucked his hips. With no need for further guidance, she started to stroke him and felt a sense of empowerment when he leaned into her and thrust his pelvis in counterpoint. She was doing this to him—exciting him to this level and calling forth this reaction. It was exhilarating to have that kind of control over such a strong, attractive male.

  The bridges along the length of his shaft felt as hard as bone. Knowing he’d enjoy pressure there, she fisted her hand more tightly and added her second hand to the strokes.

  “Ah, Spri! Yes. Oh, yes!” He chanted through gritted teeth.

  She pumped him once, twice…

  “Oh, no!” He cried out. “Wait!”

  But it was already too late. On the third down-stroke, his eyelids slid shut, his face contorted, and his whole body tensed in front of her. She couldn’t even cover his cock’s head before it shot off and drenched her belly in sizzling royal-blue cum. The color was so exotic and pretty, though, it didn’t even occur to her to be disgusted.

  “Damn.” He huffed and puffed, still panting hard.

  Part of Spri seconded that sentiment. Although he’d looked magnificent as he’d climaxed and she was happy to have satisfied him, she’d planned on playing with him some more. These Allurian men sure liked to finish quickly. Or was it just Whitt?

  “Don’t frown.” He’d recovered enough to meet her gaze, although she could see his leg muscles quivering. “It’s my turn now.”

  The world spun for a split second before her back and buttocks hit the bed. Then she was staring up at her ceiling décor as he dropped to his knees and shouldered her legs apart.

  *

  Game time, Whitt thought. She’d gotten him too worked up there, and the result was humiliating. His worst nightmare had come true, and he’d just blown the first round—all over the front of her, no less. It was time to redeem himself. Despite the fact that he’d just come all over her like a teenage virgin, he did have skills, and she was about to get a demo.

  Actually, the sight of his ejaculate coating her skin sated something primal inside him. It felt as if he’d marked her as his. He made sure to keep her on her back so it wouldn’t get on the bedcovers, though. Some women got really bent out of shape about the stains.

  Planting a kiss on each of her inner thighs, Whitt grasped her behind her knees and arranged her legs so they draped over his shoulders and down his back. Her heels settled on either side of his spine. Using his thumbs to part her, he got his first good look at her secrets. Her blushing petals were a lighter shade than what he’d seen from other women, but they glistened with her excitement and bloomed nice and plump. Barely cresting out of its hood, her clit was equally delicate and begged for his touch. When her sweet personal scent reached his nose, he actually felt himself salivate. Gods, he needed to taste her.

  Dipping his head, he puckered his lips around her little button first, holding her still when she jolted and whimpered. Then his tongue came out to lollipop her, and he reached up to roll her pale pink nipples ever so gently between his fingertips.

  “Whitt.” She gasped.

  The sound of his name falling from her lips was so perfect. He had her right where he wanted her with her lips parted, her cheeks flushed, and that glorious platinum hair of hers spread across the covers. Firming his tongue to form a wedge, he slid it down through her folds until the tip poked her entrance and slid partway in. With his chin buried just above her buttocks, he speared her more deeply and got his first true taste of her.

  Spri mewled when his blissful groan vibrated through her, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head. Her flavor was like ambrosia—a swig of intoxicating pheromones that reminded him of the rice wine they’d had earlier. The salty undertone and the slickness of her beneath his lips and tongue made him think of the oysters all over again. He suddenly felt famished.

  Sucking hard, he set up a driving rhythm, alternating between her clit and her opening. Her scent spiraled through his head as he drank her in until she was almost thrashing beneath him. This was what he wanted. He wanted to make her as wild and out of control as she’d made him, to bring her off with the same unstoppable momentum. Judging by the way her thighs squeezed his ears, she had to be close.

  Releasing her nipples, he let his hands coast down to rub her straining thighs just as he rolled her turgid nubbin between his lips. When he buzzed the delicate nerves with a loud hum, she just about jacked off the bed.

  Spri let out a cry of ecstasy that was so sexy it had Whitt’s spent cock twitching again. Then she flung her spectacular body into a perfect arch. He stabbed her convulsing entrance and fluttered his tongue until she finally whimpered and fell limp. Crawling up beside her on the bed, he gathered her into his arms and collapsed.

  He was afraid of what might pop out of his mouth in that moment, so he just used his lips to silently kiss the side of her head.

  She laughed. “Well, I’d say we figured it out all right.”

  Whitt smiled, but his heart chose that moment to give a peculiar thump. Although he hadn’t made it inside her, he realized that nothing about this had felt “casual” to him. If anything, he was crazier for her now than he’d been before, and that shook him up on a level he wasn’t prepared for.

  Chapter Nine

  A Cultural Misunderstanding

  Whitt had left her. After maybe ten minutes of holding her, he’d given Spri a quick kiss, gotten dressed, and walked out. In his wake, he’d left her head spinning and her heart unsure, and she’d spent the rest of the night tossing and turning. Even now, as she walked down the street in the early morning light, she still couldn’t get over it.

  Although she tried to tell herself his departure didn’t mean anything, she’d just assumed he’d stay the night. His abandonment hurt. It also left her feeling empty, despite having enjoyed the most intense physical sensations she’d ever experienced. If what they’d done together last night felt that good, then she couldn’t imagine the ecstasy they’d share if they truly joined. But would he even want the kind of connection she craved? Did he realize what was possible, or were Allurians too grounded in their bodies? The greater question, of course, was whether or not she was willing to take the risk and find out.

  Right now, Spri was still feeling her way, which was why she needed guidance. As she turned the next corner, she spotted the white stone walls of the Litting meditation center and felt a bubble of hope that maybe she’d find more clarity there. She had just enough time to catch the morning service before work and maybe talk to one of the spiritual guides.

  Pushing open the tall double doors, she made her way inside and found an empty spot on one of the cushioned, legless benches that lined the floor. There were half a dozen other attendees arranging themselves with their legs crossed, bent, or stretched in front of them with their backs resting against the padded support. Since there was no prescribed position, it was just a matter of finding whatever was most comfortable. Spri opted to cross her legs under her so that her ankles were pinned lightly beneath her thighs as she leaned back.

  Dressed in his traditional silver and gold robe, Guide Jye was acting as their communal leader today. The peaceful Litting man was in his mid-sixties and handsome in an inviting, non-threatening way. He wore his dark hair shaved down to his scalp, and he was darker skinned than most Littings. Over the years, he’d come to be one of Spri’s favorites at the center due to his calm, insightful demeanor and the hint of a smile that always seemed to play at the corners of his lips.

  Everyone fell silent and still as he took his place at the front of the large, open medi
tation room. Following tradition, no words were spoken, but every member felt his greeting when he made eye contact with them. He held up a tuning fork and ringer and tapped it once to begin the service.

  Closing her eyes, Spri immediately attempted to clear her mind. It wasn’t as easy this morning as it usually was, but she’d had years of practice. When the reverberations died, Jye set up a slow, steady rhythm of peals to synchronize everybody’s breathing. After six rings, the whole congregation was inhaling and exhaling together like one entity, and they kept breathing in tandem even after the room fell silent.

  The sense of interconnection and the surety of routine finally relaxed Spri for the first time since Whitt had left her apartment. Her tension seeped out of her body and slipped away while her aura tuned itself to the life energy of her fellow Littings. She was no longer one person struggling with her own issues. Instead, she was part of the whole, no more or less important than anyone else present.

  They spent fifteen minutes like that before Jye released them from collective meditation with a final tap of the tuning fork. Spri slowly opened her eyes. At least she felt far more refreshed than when she’d come in. By raising one hand, she signaled Jye that she had need of his guidance. No one else requested his personal attention this morning, so he nodded once and got up so they could meet in private.

  A minute later, she was sitting in one of the meeting rooms with him—a small, sparse space decorated with clean lines and soothing pastels. He sat facing her, the only thing separating them a low table with a bowl of water in the center. As was his way, he didn’t ask any questions or, in fact, say anything at all. Instead, he remained patiently silent as he waited for her to gather her thoughts.

  “I’m having trouble figuring out how my life fits with another’s.” Spri had only just realized that that was the real problem. “For nearly two months now, I’ve been dating an Allurian man. He’s very special to me, but I don’t think we really understand each other.”

  Jye responded thoughtfully. “Many Littings experience trouble when they date outside their race. You can’t expect understanding to come unless you first put in the effort to learn each other.”

  “I know that.” She sighed. “We met through an alien sexual education course I’ve been taking. Trilanta has such a diverse population that I thought it was important to learn more about how other races regard their sexuality. It’s been an illuminating class. It’s given me a new perspective and appreciation for how others view mating and love and life. After we covered Allurian sex, though, I realized Whitt’s race is very physical. He’s a respectful, principled man, but he also takes things lightly. Perhaps too lightly.”

  “Sometimes it’s better not to take things too seriously,” Jye pointed out. “Does he seem carefree about everything, or are we only talking about his view of sexual relations?”

  “Mostly the latter.”

  Whitt wasn’t shallow or without a sense of honor. Since she really did want her guide’s input, she decided to come clean.

  “Last night, we engaged in some of those relations, though not a full coupling. While we both enjoyed it, he got up and went home like nothing had happened, and I was left feeling…confused.”

  Expecting a gentle reprimand for such fooling around, she was surprised by Jye’s response. “You stepped forward to meet him halfway. If you care for this man, then it’s necessary to respect his ways and explore them with him. For the other races, physical sex and emotional and spiritual bonding can be either separate or connected. You attempted to reach him through the former. Now you’re hurt because he didn’t reach for you on the other fronts. Was that a conscious choice on his part, or does he not know any better?”

  “I’m not sure.” She was still as uncertain as ever.

  “Has this class you’ve been attending discussed what lovemaking means to us Littings?” Jye asked.

  She shook her head.

  “Then you have the advantage. You know more about his race and needs than he does about yours. How can he understand you when he’s ignorant of our ways?”

  Suddenly everything seemed so obvious she felt stupid for having bothered him. “I’ll have to teach him.”

  One clear way to do that was already available to her: she could sign up as a model for the next class.

  “Why don’t you invite him to one of our services?” Jye suggested.

  She squeaked in surprise. “Here?”

  His quiet laughter was as calm and clear as the chime of the tuning fork. “Don’t look so shocked. Many non-Littings attend our afternoon and evening services. They find meditation helps relieve stress and soothe their minds after a long day at work. Some believe the process lets them commune with their gods. No one is turned away. Perhaps you should invite this Whitt into our world.”

  He had a point.

  “I’ll think about it,” she agreed, getting to her feet.

  “One more thing you might want to consider.” Jye’s expression didn’t alter. “It sounds to me like this man is very important to you. If everything else about him stayed the same, but he was Litting instead of Allurian, would you choose him as your life partner?”

  She bit her lip. “I don’t know. We haven’t known each other that long, and I just…I don’t know.”

  The wise Litting simply nodded as if he’d anticipated her answer. “Then put the effort into this relationship that it deserves, but don’t do anything irrevocable. A partnership between a man and woman requires balance. He’ll need to meet you halfway too.”

  Thanking him for his advice, she let herself out.

  * * * *

  After finishing his last call the next day, Whitt gathered up his tools and headed home. He worked as a tech installer and IT specialist, which basically meant he set up people’s vid-screens and other hardware whenever they upgraded their offices or moved. For the most part, he handled small businesses since the big corporations had their own tech departments. He liked his job well enough, but today had been filled with simple, boring setups, leaving him too much time to think.

  His mind kept circling back to Spri. Lust for her made his cock as hard as diamond. After the lousy way he’d left her the other night, he wasn’t surprised she’d called him. He was just annoyed—shouldn’t he be relieved?—that she’d only called once and left an unruffled message. Apparently his ego wanted her as messed up over him as he was about her.

  This was the most complicated relationship Whitt had ever had with a woman. Usually his interactions with females were simple. He was a young bachelor, and he enjoyed sex. In a travel hub as large as Trilanta, it wasn’t hard to find willing women in a variety of races, colors, and builds. The affairs were always short because he also liked his freedom, his own space, and doing what he wanted. So why this obsession with one woman in particular?

  Although he wasn’t generally the self-reflective type, Whitt did know himself. If this thing with Spri had just been about lust, he would have walked away weeks ago and found an easier female. Sex had never been a stupid conquest thing with him, so there was no reason to target her. Unless it was more than just sex, more like…lovemaking.

  Could it be he was growing up? Lots of men settled down in their mid-twenties, but he’d never planned on being one of them. Think about it. If you got hitched that early, you could be looking at thirty, fifty, seventy-five years of marriage depending on how long you lived and managed not to kill each other. He figured he should put that off as long as possible and enjoy his time to himself while he had the chance. And that meant not getting too serious too soon.

  Except he was pretty sure it was already too late. Besides, he wasn’t exactly having fun by himself lately unless you counted all the times he’d jerked off since meeting Spri. And if he thought about this relationship any more, it would be a moot point because he’d officially be declared a woman—examining his feelings, asking what it all means. Ah, hell.

  Returning to his apartment, Whitt made a decision. Never mind how Spri tu
rned him inside out. He was a man of action, and all this thinking wasn’t good for him. If he wanted to see her, then he’d see her. With the punch of a couple buttons, he brought up her message on his vid screen.

  His groin grew heavy when her face appeared, and her eyes seemed to lock right on him. She had that same serene, almost playful expression that she usually wore.

  “Hi, Whitt. I was hoping to catch you. If you’re free, I’d love to get together. My meditation center holds evening services, and I was thinking I could take you to one—give you a taste of Litting culture. A lot of races attend, and the service in no way goes against any of the faiths. We could go there and then head out to dinner afterwards. What do you say? Call me back when you get the chance.”

  That was the third time he’d listened to the message, which was really pathetic. Time to stop with the angst and tag her back. Coding in her number, he waited through a moody splash of colors onscreen before she answered.

  Her smile nearly made him forget his own name. “Hi. Did you get my message?”

  Forcing his brain back into working order, he nodded. Typical of her, she didn’t comment on how long it had taken him to call. Was it because she didn’t care, or was she just that calm about everything? Somehow she made him feel like a bumbling kid when he was so confident and easygoing with everybody else.

  “Yeah,” he said at last. “Dinner sounds good. How about tomorrow night?”

  Her smile faded a little. “Tomorrow works for me, but what about joining me at the center beforehand? Are you game?”

  It sounded like she wanted him to come to some kind of church or temple. There were many different denominations in Allurian culture, most of them worshipping various bits of nature and fertility goddesses. Whitt had stopped practicing as soon as he’d grown too old for his parents to force him. Besides, wasn’t going to worship with a female almost like meeting her folks?