by Meg` Ripley
“If you go really, really slowly,” Adriana said, licking her lips. “I think I can do that again without passing out.”
Joran smiled, leaning in to kiss her on the lips. That was one aspect of human mating rituals that he thought would definitely enrich the process of his own people’s mating; there was something intimate about the act, even more so than the coupling itself, or the tasting of each other’s sex organs.
“I enjoy kissing you,” Joran told Adriana. “It is something I have never experienced.”
Adriana smiled against his lips. “Just how long are you going to be here on the planet?” she asked him. Joran, remembering something he had seen in one of the research videos he had watched about human sexuality, turned onto his back, lifting Adriana on top of him. He felt his penis beginning to harden, remembering how good she had felt—how good she had tasted—the first time. He was more than eager to experience her body again.
“Indefinitely,” Joran explained. “If we are able to cross your genetics with ours, the hope is to develop that new strain. We will have to stay here to continue research.”
Adriana shook her head. “And no one knows who you are or what you are?”
Joran nodded. “We all have human identities. It is important to our work.” He moved Adriana on top of him, shifting underneath her until the tip of his cock brushed against her already-soaking labia. “No more questions now,” he told her firmly, smiling. “We need to repeat our experiment.” Adriana chuckled, looking down at him with a mixture of amusement and desire.
Joran felt a wave of heat as she sank down onto him achingly slowly, taking his member inside of her by inches. She was every bit as tight as before, and as her inner muscles flexed around him, Joran gripped her hips, fighting back the urge to fill her up in one fast, hard thrust. She was so tight, her slickness the only thing making it possible for him to push past the resistance of her body; as Adriana reached out to steady herself, her hands on his shoulders, he felt her muscles tighten around him convulsively.
They began to move together, and Joran pulled Adriana down against his body, finding her lips with his own, kissing her over and over again as he felt the pleasure coursing through him. He let his hands wander over her enticing body, exploring and testing, caressing her the way he had seen in videos, teasing her as she rocked her hips, taking him deeper and deeper. “I want to do this every day,” Joran murmured in her ear.
Adriana, moving a little bit faster, moans leaving her lips, nodded. “I am—I agree. I think…I think that is a wonderful idea.”
Joran felt his muscles beginning to tense, his body tingling with the pleasure of higher and higher arousal. He wrapped his arms around Adriana’s body, holding her close as he thrust up into her over and over again. While he now knew that she did not have to achieve orgasm to be impregnated, Joran couldn’t help but want to bring this woman to climax—it felt so good to feel her pleasure, to hear her crying out. He brought her breasts to his mouth one by one, worshiping the mounds of flesh with lips and tongue, and when Adriana gasped and shuddered against him, Joran knew that she was close.
He held back long enough to feel the first convulsive spasms of her pleasure as Adriana reached her third orgasm, and then let go of his own release, groaning and shouting in his native language as he flooded her with his seed. He knew that there was no chance that she could become pregnant—but he knew that this coupling, this mating, was about much more than reproduction.
“Will you…help me research?” Joran asked, smiling as they both collapsed against the bed together.
“Sure,” Adriana said breathlessly. “As long as…you keep…doing this to me.”
****
He filed his initial report a few weeks after he had met with his subject—the human woman that he was compelled to mate with, again and again—for the first time. Joran was learning more and more about the complexities of human sexual reproduction with every meeting he had with Adriana. After they had satisfied their mutual needs, he had collected genetic material from her and analyzed it; there would be many barriers and obstacles to overcome in bringing human genetics into the Khateen’s genetic material, but he was more than willing to spend the rest of his indeterminate stay on the planet learning the nuances of Adriana’s sexuality, and the contours of her body.
Joran glanced over at the bed where Adriana was fast asleep, exhausted from their efforts at exploring each other’s bodies. He smiled to himself. He had not thought when he had embarked on the mission that he would meet a mate; he had never considered the possibility that a human woman would suit him. He stood up from his console, moving towards the bed. Perhaps in a few minutes, Adriana would awaken, and they would be able to experiment some more. The idea sent a hot jolt through him; Joran could barely wait.
Captured By Two Aliens
“I'm coming! I'm coming! I'm coming!” Rachel hollered across her empty living room as she made a mad dash across her apartment wearing nothing but a towel to reach the ringing cell phone she'd forgotten in her purse.
She knew hollering at the phone wasn't going to make the caller on the other end stay on the line any longer, but she couldn't help it. She delved into her purse, releasing the towel in her haste. Her hands found the cell phone in the same moment the towel hit the floor. She'd forgotten to close the curtains, and any passerby on the street would easily be able to see into her second story windows, but this call was too important to miss. She slid her finger across the screen to answer the call, hoping for the good news she'd been longing to hear.
“OK. I see. Thanks very much. Yes, of course. There's always next time,” Rachel spoke methodically into the phone and then pressed a button to end the call.
Forgetting about the towel, Rachel walked despondently back across the room, the moonlight streaming through the windows, gently highlighting every curve of her tall, slim frame. Her long, flaming red hair cascaded down her back and shimmered in the soft light. She rummaged listlessly through her dresser drawer and slipped on a black satin thong. She had intended to locate its matching bra, but the effort seemed too much to bother with at the moment. Feeling deflated, she sat down instead.
“I can't believe they passed me over for some girl from Alaska. Alaska!” Rachel whispered incredulously, sitting on the edge of her bed, bare-breasted and forlorn.
She had really thought that this audition was the one. She had risen above the majority of the competition, even received a call-back this time. But the chestnut-haired twit with the blue eyes and clueless, perky smile ended up with the part. Rachel had no doubt that the Alaskan girl fucked her way into the role, and that was the only reason Rachel wasn't the one rehearsing on set right now. It wasn't that Rachel was a prude—she liked sex just as much as the next girl—but she wasn't exactly what one would call “wild,” and she certainly couldn't fathom sleeping with some director or producer to make her career happen.
She was beautiful, talented and intelligent—that should count for something, right? At least, that's what Rachel had thought four years ago when she arrived in L.A. But, years later and no acting jobs in sight left her thinking that unless she was ready to add “Blow Jobs 101” to her résumé’s list of academic accomplishments, she wasn't landing a career-launching role anytime soon. She flopped back on her mattress and stretched her arms above her head.
Her dream of becoming an actress wasn't unique, she knew—it was the dream of a multitude of young women. But, Rachel wasn't only interested in fame and fortune. With stardom came the opportunity to effect real change in the world. People would listen when she spoke and pay attention to the causes that were important to her. When she supported a foundation seeking to end world hunger, others would follow in her footsteps, and together they would make change happen. But, so many years later and the only impact she'd made was providing a finer dining experience for too-rich restaurant-goers with more money than manners.
Rachel stared out her window, always fascinated by the multitude of stars th
at blanketed the sky, and honed in on one that appeared particularly bright tonight. It seemed to almost flicker in the dark sky, and each time it was brighter than before.
“Would it be totally ridiculous of me to wish on a star?” she queried aloud wryly.
But the longer she stared at the bright light in the sky, the more it compelled her. She was drawn to it, so much so that seemingly of its own volition, her body sat upright and leaned forward. It wasn't enough. Rachel stood and crossed the few steps from the bed to the window, her eyes never leaving the bright star. Her hands rose to press against the window in front of her, as if beseeching it to move her closer to the star trapped in her gaze.
“OK. Here goes nothing,” she conceded, feeling a little foolish. But a nagging voice in the back of her mind got louder; it assured her that there was nothing foolish in what she did now.
“I want to be a leader. I want to make change happen. I want to live in a world where what I've done has mattered somehow,” she wished aloud.
She felt ridiculous, but the task was done and over with now. And a calm, comforting feeling washed over her. She moved gracefully toward her closet, her hips swaying gently, and reached for a form-fitting, silky cream-colored tee and a pair of boy-cut shorts. She slipped on the clothes, her breasts pressing firmly against the fabric of her shirt, her nipples clearly visible through the light-colored material. The shorts barely covered her ass and hugged every curve. Though definitely not traditional lingerie, the outfit made her feel incredibly sexy, and since she was the only person in her apartment tonight, she could sleep in whatever outfit she chose.
Rachel crawled beneath her covers, enjoying the feel of the lightweight fabric of her sheets caressing her bare skin. She'd worry about her non-existent acting career in the morning. For now, she held onto that calm, peaceful feeling and within moments, she drifted off to sleep.
****
She awoke slowly, stretching languidly to feel the soft rub of the bed linens. But the sheets weren't covering her body. With her eyes still closed, she felt around the mattress for their softness, thinking she must have kicked them off during the night. But she didn't find the plush texture of her mattress beneath her hands. Instead, her hand made contact with a smooth, cool surface. Rachel's eyes were open in a flash, but the darkness surrounding her made the action pointless. She couldn't remember her apartment ever having been so dark before. She moved to sit abruptly, but she couldn't bring herself upright. Her arms and legs were free to move, but her torso was immobilized.
She tried to remain calm, fighting the panic rising within her. Rachel's first thought was that something happened to her. Had she somehow suffered some injury that caused damage to her spine? But the last thing she remembered was climbing into bed, perfectly healthy and uninjured. Certainly a fall from the height of her bed could not cause serious damage. And how could she move her arms and legs if she had suffered a spinal injury? She fought to sit upright again, lifting her head off the hard surface beneath her. While still immobilized, the action reassured her that she had definitely not suffered a paralyzing injury; too much of her body could move freely.
But then, fear rose to the forefront of her mind. If she weren't injured, why on earth couldn't she sit up? And then the room illuminated and she could see her surroundings clearly. What she saw was not the interior of her bedroom; she didn't recognize anything at all. She began to fight vigorously against the invisible bindings keeping her in her current position. Seemingly out of nowhere she heard a voice.
“Please. Do not hurt yourself. I will release the hold on you. It was only meant to keep you safe from injuring yourself,” a deep, husky voice spoke, but Rachel could not find the source.
She stopped thrashing and suddenly she could move freely. In one swift movement, she was upright and off the cold, hard surface that had confined her a moment prior. Her eyes darted around frantically, searching for a way out, but finding no obvious means of escape.
“Who are you? Why am I here? What do you want from me?” She questioned frantically.
A door slid open and a figure walked slowly, carefully into the room. “I am not here to hurt you Rachel. I promise you that,” the figure with the deep, husky voice tried to assure her.
At first, she couldn't make out anything but the outline of the figure. It was shrouded by a light that flickered slowly. And each time it did, the light became brighter. She immediately remembered the star from the night prior. It had held her gaze captive just as the light surrounding this figure was doing to her now. He continued moving forward slowly and as he did, the light obscured less and by the time he stood just a few steps away from Rachel's frightened form she could see him clearly.
He wasn't an ordinary man—if a man at all—but he resembled one in so many ways. He was tall, with arms and legs, hands and feet, sinewy muscle and a humanoid-shaped head. His skin was paler than hers—a considerable feat given that she had a fair, peaches and cream complexion all year round. He had no body hair that she could see. He was dressed in a pair of jeans and casual tee, which struck her as extremely odd given that he didn't appear to be...human.
There was no hair on his head either, but in its place were bright, beautiful red markings that looked like intricate tattoos. Upon closer inspection, those same intricate markings peeked out above the neckline of his shirt, covering his neck; they extended down the lengths of his arms where she could see below his shirt sleeves. His feet were bare with the same tattoos, but she couldn't entirely make out their shape; it seemed as if they changed almost imperceptibly in shape right before her eyes, first with almost minimal toe delineation, and now completely foot-like with toes just like any other man.
Rachel remained speechless for a moment, trying to figure out exactly what it was that stood before her. The effect the stranger was having on her confused her, making it even more difficult to summon a coherent thought. Arousal coursed through her body as her eyes traveled across his muscular, humanoid figure. By the time she had finished her perusal, the arousal had settled between her legs, making her wet, as her clit began to throb.
“My name, in your language, is Ny-len. As you can see, I am holding no weapons, you are not restrained. I have no intentions of hurting you,” he tried to reassure her in a calm tone.
“Then why am I here?” Rachel whispered, realizing just now as the stranger's eyes grazed over her body that she was still dressed in the tiny shorts and see-through shirt she had thrown on the night before.
She crossed her arms in front of her tits trying to hide them from his view, but to her chagrin, she was sure that he had already caught sight of her hard nipples. His eyes lingered where her arms crossed in front of her chest, and lust radiated from his eyes. Eyes that looked entirely human, except that the irises were a vibrant orange and the lids were more deeply hooded, like the eyes of cowboys in old movies, the heroes squinting against the hot, bright, desert sun.
“It was you who called out to me. Or, I should say, that you wished upon 'us.' My brother and I, we were the bright light that you saw in the sky last night. We have been watching you, and then we heard your wish. And when we saw you; your flaming red hair so similar in color to the markings on our skin; your beautiful, pale body, nearly naked before us. We knew in that moment that you were the answer for us, and I believe, we are the answer for you, as well,” he finished eloquently.
“So, what you're trying to tell me is that you're really an alien—a bright, shiny alien--and you've abducted me!” The idea sounded ludicrous even to her own ears. “Then how in the world, may I ask, are you wearing Levi jeans?!?” She'd noticed the label peeking from his pocket, and now began to wonder if this was some sort of crazy ruse. But she couldn't imagine who in the world would have been the instigator. And this would have to be some very elaborate ruse.
“In truth, I'm not. The clothing you see are simply an illusion, meant to simulate an ordinary encounter for you as much as possible,” Ny-len responded honestly. “As you will co
me to see, I also have no interest in lying to you, Rachel. You are far too important to waste time with lies and deceit,” he explained emphatically.
“Oh.” Rachel couldn't think of an intelligent retort at the moment, and was still far too uncertain about what was going on to make any sort of educated guess. If this was a ruse, she had no idea how to expose it at the moment, so she played along.
“How exactly am I important?” she queried skeptically.
“A battle is being fought on my planet among its tribes. In fact, it has been waging since long before my birth. But now, it has nearly eradicated my entire species. You have no idea what it is like to look around you and see so few of those like you left. And all in a struggle for power and dominance,” he spit out the final words, full of disgust at the notion.
His words seemed so genuine it was hard to believe that this was all some ridiculous setup. “So, how old are you?” she asked, entirely uncertain why that particular question came to mind.
“I am twenty years old, according to you measurement of age,” he returned without hesitation.
“But, you look so much older,” she spoke aloud. It's not that he looked like an old man, quite the opposite in fact, but she would have pegged him for mid-thirties.
“We do not age as you do, nor do we have a comparable life span. While your species may live into their hundreds, the oldest recorded member of my species, his light was extinguished when he was thirty-five years old,” he replied.
“Oh. But what exactly does that have to do with me?” Rachel asked, so caught up in the stranger and his story that how she came to be standing before him had completely slipped her mind.
