Sextraterrestrials

The Girl

Jerry Fowler was walking back from town along the river when he saw her. She was standing on the far bank of the river in a diaphanous white nightgown, which seemed pretty crazy for this frosty night in late September.

She looked straight at him, seemingly appealing to him with those two big dark eyes. Then, she turned and vanished into the lodgepole pine forest. Jerry got a final glimpse of her silky nightgown between two trees and then she was gone.

He really should help her, he thought. Only a lunatic would be running around in this frigid air wearing only a sheer nightgown and nothing else to cover those exquisite breasts and superb ass. (Jerry's night vision was pretty good.)

He started after her but then stopped when he realized who she was.

Sophia Magaletti.

His Sophia.

But Sophia had died in a car crash on I-94 back in February. They had gone only on two dates, and had shared passionate soulful kisses after the second. And then she was gone, the victim of an overturned semi. So what Jerry had just seen was impossible. Unless they had somehow misidentified the charred remains down at the St. Mary's morgue. In which case, Sophia might have been kidnapped and the burnt remains the body of some other woman driving Sophia's car.

Jerry looked for a place to ford the river. He found a trail of promising rocks and jumped from one to the next until he reached the far shore with nothing worse than a soaked right ankle.

He saw the trail that Sophia had taken and ran off after her.

He had only covered about 300 yards when he caught up with her.

She was standing in a moss-covered clearing, seemingly waiting for him. Her diaphanous nightgown fluttered about her nude body. The charms of that body were on full display, exposed by the light of the full moon that shone down upon the deserted pines surrounding them.

It was definitely Sophia.

"Sophia, I thought you were dead," Jerry whispered.

"I am Jerry, I am," she whispered. "But they have let me come back this one time to say goodbye to you."

"Who are They?" Jerry asked. "This is impossible. This must be a dream."

"Shh," Sophia said, placing a single finger on Jerry's lips. The finger was somewhat cool, but unlike the icy digits one might expect on a ghost or a reanimated corpse.

"We are not allowed to speak of such things," she whispered. "Just accept this as the gift that it is. Things are not what they seem," she told Jerry, sweeping her arms to indicate the whole pine forest, or perhaps the whole world.

"Let us just accept the opportunity we have been granted. Do I not please you?" she asked, wrapping her arms around Jerry's neck and pressing her glorious breasts against his chest.

"Oh, you please me a great deal," Jerry replied, a single tear streaming down his right cheek. "I just don't want to lose you again."

She threw her arms around his neck and pressed herself tightly against his chest. Jerry began to stroke her long black hair as she pressed her face against his pecs.

Her flesh felt a little cold. What the heck, Jerry thought. She's been dead for five months. Cut the girl some slack.

He lifted her chin and bent to kiss her forehead. She stood on her tiptoes to reach him, and their lips met with all the expectations and thrills of last April. It was as if she had just returned from a week's vacation rather than from the world beyond.

Her fingers found the buttons on his shirt and began undoing them. She stripped that garment from him and began to loosen his belt. She knelt and pressed her face against Jerry's hard, hard cock. She began to pull his trousers and underwear down, and his cock popped free and saluted her at a 20˚ angle, all seven inches of it.

Jerry stepped out of his pants and underwear, just as Sophia's ghost impaled her mouth on his jutting cock. She took in only four inches at first, her lips closing on it as she worked the underside with her tongue, stopping every few seconds to suck the helmet, which she encircled with her tongue before engulfing Jerry's prick more deeply with each iteration.

She lifted his balls, feeling them jump in her hand each time she plunged his throbbing tool more deeply into her ravenous mouth. She released his cock for a moment to bring those glorious orbs to her lips. She took his left ball in her mouth as she wrapped her right hand around Jerry's prick and began to stroke him. She sucked his balls in the same rhythm as her hand was pumping his cock.

Jerry felt that cock getting ready to enter geyser mode, but he wanted to experience far more than a simple hand job. Plus, he wanted to satisfy Sophia; he had practically fallen in love with her before the semi transformed her into a grease spot on I-94.

He reached down to lift her up by her armpits, then pressed her close against him. He could feel her hard nipples grazing his chest as he stepped out of his pants and underwear. He pulled the nightgown over her head, leaving them both standing naked in the moss-covered clearing. She threw her arms around his neck, standing on her tiptoes as she raised her mouth to his.

Their lips met, and then their tongues and groins. He could feel her pubic hair brushing against his throbbing, rock-hard cock. She opened his mouth and explored it with her tongue, reaching down to clutch his aching balls, which she massaged as she pushed her firm tits more tightly against him.

Her other hand found his shaft and began to stroke the underside as her tongue darted in and out of his mouth. She then led him by the cock down to the mossy floor of the clearing. He laid down on top of her, using her naked body as his bed, the best bed he ever had.

Her right hand still held him by the nape of neck, while her left hand steered his throbbing cock into her already dripping cunt. Jerry shoved his cock in all the way, feeling the walls of her cunt caressing his shaft, milking it like the udder of a cow.

He had felt nothing like this before.

Sophia's tongue met the tip of his tongue as he began to fuck her. He thrust his tongue in and out of her mouth in the same rhythm as he was shoving his cock in and out of her preternaturally talented cunt, which continued to squeeze his prick and milk it for all it was worth.

Sophia cried out in the throes of orgasm, and her whole body arched as she came, pressing her firm large breasts against his chest.

Jerry lay still for a moment after she came, but she soon reached down to his ass and grasped one buttock in each hand and urged him onward, squeezing his ass as he started to move again. He began to pump her again, thrusting into her slowly at first and then more quickly as the pulsating walls of her cunt began to milk his prick once again. Her fingers traced their way down his ass, into his crack and then down to his balls, which she squeezed in her hands in time with his thrusts. Jerry could feel the sweat dripping down his forehead, despite the September chill in the air, as he worked her harder and harder. His thrusts became deeper and more violent, and Sophia's body, mouth, hand and cunt urged him on ever more fiercely. He felt her body stiffen and arch once more, as she came in a torrent, spilling her juices over his balls as he buried his cock in her up to the hilt and came in the most violent orgasm in his life.

They lay there together in the moonlight for a while, their nude bodies gray in diminished light. Sophia reached up to stroke his hair, as he gently brought his lips to hers. They engaged in a long, soft, and sweet kiss.

Then Jerry noticed something out of the corner of his eye. Sophia followed his gaze. "Oh that," she said. "It's nothing but a pimple."

Jerry wasn't so sure. In looked like a pulsating tube worm to him. Suddenly, the zit opened the petals covering its mouth and displayed several circular rows of nasty, pointed teeth. Jerry began to get up from her in a start, but she grabbed him by the elbow to keep him with her.

"No, seriously," she said, "it's nothing but a zit."

Suddenly another one popped up on her other cheek. Jason pulled his arm out of her grasp stood up and began to retrieve his clothes. Soon Sophia's body was replaced with a pulsating 130 pound mass of tube worms.

"Go ahead, leave me," one of the central worms cried, "just because I have a little skin condition and you're already satisfied. Typical man."

Feets don't fail me now, Jerry thought as he took off through the brush at top speed. His cheek began to itch and he touched it with his hand. He was beginning to get a zit, he thought. At least he sure as hell hoped it was a zit.

The Lab Assistant

Six hundred meters below the surface of Langley, Virginia in the Biosafety Level 5 Lab for Deniable Research operated jointly by the Centers for Disease Control and the Central Intelligence Agency, Naomi Watson tried for the twenty-fourth time to get the cursed thing on. But she just couldn't do it. It kept falling off. A tear began to roll down her cheek. Here she was on the first day on the job, after six months of security clearance investigations, and she couldn't do the simplest task required for her job. Who manufactured these condoms, anyway? That little cock was so small, it needed something else, maybe a condom made out of spandex or something like that.

"How's it going, rookie?"

Naomi jumped. She was so concentrated on the task at hand, that she did not hear anyone sneaking up behind here. She turned around to see the head honcho himself, Dr. Sergei Kostyack, grinning at her with those perfect teeth of his. She looked at his tousled curly blond hair and those broad shoulders. She was going to do him, she thought, one way or the other. If she could keep this job, of course.

She raised the lab rat up to him to show him the source of her troubles. Her lips quivered as she said, "I'm so sorry, Dr. Kostyack. But their little cocks are so small, these little condoms just keep falling off." She covered her mouth. "Sorry," she said, "I meant penises. I'm not sure if I can do this job. It's too hard, especially with these latex gloves and reaching through the safety glass."

Sergei smiled at her with those pearly whites. "Relax," he said, "we were just messing with you. Nobody could get one of those things on. We do this to all the rookies. We're doing condom research, but

in vitro

not

in vivo

. That would be crazy.

"Here I brought you something to eat," he said, handing her a white box with KFC-style red stripes on it.

She opened the box and took the largest of what looked like six chicken McNuggets. She brought it to her famished mouth and took a deep bite out of it.

"Oh my," she said, pointing to the undevoured portion of the morsel. "This is delicious. It is so good. I have never tasted anything like this. What is it?"

"Deep-fried tube worms," he told her.

Naomi spewed the pieces that remained in her mouth all over the safety glass, then knelt, sticking her finger down her throat in a futile attempt to eject the rest.

"Relax," Sergei said. "I told you they were safe to eat. And you've got to admit, they're deee-licious."

The Thing

The thing that used to be Jerry Fowler felt something beckoning it. It raised three of its nineteen eye / arm / mouth tubes to find the direction of the signal. Ah there it was. North by northwest, as the humans would put it.

It lowered four of its eye / leg / mouth tubes and took off in that direction like a bat (or at least a fiddler crab) out of hell.

The Plant

Bartholomew Wisenofski was humming the song "Tiptoe Through the Tulips" as he pranced along the edge of the forest. He remembered fondly tiptoeing through Old Lady Jabbets' tulip bed several months ago. He remembered rolling around in that bed of wanton angiosperms as they beckoned him with their lascivious open passages. Fortunately, he was able to bring himself to full organism amid those flowers, and was able to roll out of the way before Old Lady Jabbets could bring her shovel down on the top of his head. He remembered running for his life as the old bat chased him through the woods with the shovel, trying to brain him as he staggered though the woods attempting to pull up his pants.

Now she had that damn restraining order against him. He would be arrested if he came within one hundred yards of her house.

He would grow his own if he could, but the goddamn seed store had cut him off when the rumors started circulating around town a couple of years ago. After the trial, even the on-line vendors refused to sell to him.

Moving was not an option, as he was now a registered plant molester, and those bastards at the Society for the Prevention of Botanical Abuse were tracking his every movement.

Suddenly, Bartholomew's reverie was broken by the sight he had always dreamed of. A pitcher plant saucily beckoning him with its phallus-shaped opening growing wantonly right out in the open here at the forest's edge. Bartholomew could hardly believe his eyes. He literally could not contain his excitement, and his swollen cock threatened to burst right through his underwear in its impatience to have at the botanical Jezebel standing before him, taunting him with its dripping wet vulva.

It took Bartholomew only a few seconds to run the twenty yards separating him from the object of his desire and to drop trou. He briefly serenaded the botanical wonder. "I'm a little hummingbird long and stout, here are my wings and here is my snout," he intoned, flapping his arms as he plunged his throbbing phallus deeply into the plant's lasciviously displayed open cavity.

The plant gripped Bartholomew's organ as if it was a centerfielder catching a fly ball. It began to squeeze it in time with Bartholomew's thrusts. Bartholomew could feel a warm sensation, which grew hotter by the moment. Soon the warming sensation became a burning sensation, and Bartholomew suddenly remembered one crucial fact he had come across on his online search for new partners that he entirely forgotten. Pitcher plants were carnivorous, just like Venus fly traps. That burning sensation was the plant's digestive enzymes attempting to dissolve his cock. He was literally fucked.

Bartholomew tried to pull out, but the plant held him tight. It soon started to sprout new mouths, with circular rows of teeth. One of them rose up on its stalk and turned to face Bartholomew. "How do you like them apples, you plant-abusing, botanophiliac cocksucker?" it said, just before it sprang up to swallow Bartholomew's right eye.

Yeah, well, you 'nother one," Bartholomew Wisenofski pointed out. It was the last thing Bartholomew Wisenofski ever said, at least as a human.

The Executives

Wanda Pellington peered though the peephole. She could not believe her good luck. Both of them were here! She opened the door to let them in.

In stepped Matt Arnold and Ted Brown, Isotech's Vice Presidents of Human Relations and Information Technology, respectively.

"Hello, Wanda. We would like to have a word with you away from the shop, if that's OK," Matt said.

"Oh sure," said Wanda, pulling her robe more tightly around her. "Come in. sit down. Can I get you anything to drink?"

"No that's, OK, we won't be here for very long," Ted said.

Wanda sat down on the sofa, and beckoned the two men to sit in the easy chairs. "What's this all about?" she asked.

Ted Brown nervously played with his collar, as he began: "I don't know if anyone has ever explained this to you, Miss Pellington, but we monitor the online activity of all Isotech employees, right down to the janitors. We have noticed that you have visited several pornographic sites in the past few weeks. We have also noticed that you have visited restricted chat rooms and have made several sexually explicit comments about both me and Mr. Arnold."

Wanda hung her head. This was it. She was going to loose her job. All because she could not control her desires. "How long, do I have?" she asked. "It will take me a while to find another job in this economy. I don't know what I am going to do."

Matt Arnold shook his head. "No, no. That's not going to happen, Miss Pellington. We're not here to fire you. We were very flattered by your fantasies about us, and to tell the truth, both of us were very turned on. We are here to make all your fantasies about us come true."

"Both of you? At the same time?" Wanda gasped, clutching her robe more tightly about her.

"Oh, yes. We read the transcripts of

all

of your chat room comments. We know your darkest fantasies, and we're here to realize them, every single one of them.

Wanda began to clutch her robe a little less tightly, in fact opening it to show the men the curvaceous body awaiting them under the skimpy transparent silk nightgown she wore underneath.

"In that case please strip," she told the two executives, shaking off the robe and pulling her nightgown over her head.

They stripped.

"Oh my, it doesn't you two guys long to get started," she exclaimed, grabbing the two men by their erect phalluses, which she alternately squeezed and stroked as she led them over to the bed.

"I want you guys to lie on your sides facing each other so that I can work both of you at once," Wanda said.

The men complied with Wanda's request. She could not believe her good fortune, to have the two men who were the objects of her darkest desires lying here, naked and vulnerable and willing to perform whatever act she told them to.

Wanda knelt and the foot of the bed and then climbed up enough to grab both of their thick strong cocks. She pressed those two cocks together, rubbing them against each other. "I want you guys to get to know each other in every way," she told Matt and Ted, "and I mean every way. I want you to start tonguing each other now, while I work on your little packages down here."

"I don't know," Ted said, having never kissed another man and with no great desire to start now.

"Do you know now?" Wanda asked," as she began to lick the underside of the hood of Ted's cock. "We need to get you out of this homophobic prison of yours."

She ran her tongue up and down the seven-inch length of Ted's thick cock, and down to his balls, which she began to lap like a St. Bernard.

Evidently, this was an effective treatment for homophobia, as Ted quickly opened his mouth to receive Matt's tongue. He even threw his arm over Matt's shoulder to press his naked body tightly against him, as their tongues began to dart in and out of each other's mouths.

Wanda pressed their hard cocks tightly together, rubbing them against one another as she ran her tongue up and down both men's shafts. She brought the tips of their two cocks up to her lips and took both men's sacs in her hands. She began squeezing their balls and began swirling her tongue around the helmets of their cocks, teasing them mercilessly before she opened her month to take both cocks in. She could taste the distinct flavors of their precum, which excited her even more as she stretched her mouth around both of their thick cocks.

The men were soul-kissing each other now feverishly, with Matt tracing the palm of his hand over Tim's chest, exploring every nook and cranny.

By now, Wanda had engulfed the heads of both cocks and had worked them both six inches into her mouth. Ted's hand moved to the back of Matt's head to pull his mouth more tightly against to his as he Frenched him.

Wanda's tongue ran back and forth over both of their cocks, and she was squeezing all four balls mercilessly when she began to feel those gonads jumping in her hand, ready to spill their contents into her mouth.

"Not yet, boys," she said. "I have another game I want to play. Lets' try a nice chain fuck. I just need a few things." She went into the bathroom and returned holding a strap-on vibrator and a jar of Vaseline.