Joyce sat up with a start.
She wasn't sure what she'd heard...was it a crash? Maybe a thud? A grunt? Blinking the sleep out of her eyes, she looked at the alarm clock next to her bed. 3 AM. She listened carefully for a long moment, the darkness in the room seeming to accentuate each noise, as if with no sights to guide her, each noise took on extra significance.
The wind blew outside the house...the creaks and groans of the house settling counterpointed the hot water heater burbling away in the basement...in the middle distance somewhere, a police car sped to an urgent appointment with a drunken teenager...two doors down, the Nelsons' cat yowled its ecstasy to whomever would listen, and even those who didn't want to...Joyce's senses strained for any sign that she hadn't just been rudely awakened from a sound sleep by her own bad dreams, but nothing came. She turned over, kneaded her pillow a few times, and tried to drift back to sleep.
It didn't work. The bed seemed so empty without Jim there. Normally, she'd just snuggle a little closer to his side of the bed, and he'd be there, his soft, gentle snores more relaxing than irritating, like the sound of the ocean at dusk...without him, the house seemed bigger somehow. It took on a sense of indifference, as though she'd stumbled into the lair of a vast, unsympathetic beast that had already swallowed her whole, and no longer concerned itself with the process of digestion. She shivered, and pulled the covers a bit tighter around herself.
Thank God he was only going to be gone a few days more. Thank God his business trips were only twice a year. Thank God she went with him one of those two times. Even so...she squinched her eyes a little more tightly shut, hoping to force them into sleep.
It didn't work. She opened them again. Her alarm clock read 3:15 AM, its red numbers glaring in the darkness of the room. She wanted to sleep. Her whole mind was turned to sleep. Her whole body...
Her body didn't want to sleep. As soon as she thought it, she realized it was true. Her body wanted something else...she could feel it, an itch down between her legs, a throbbing, and just a hint--developing into a suggestion--of wetness. She was horny, she realized with a sudden rush of arousal, in the middle of the night with nobody home.
She sighed. "Well," she muttered to herself, her voice sounding strange with nobody else around to hear it, "we know how to take care of that, don't we?" She slipped her hand down to her pussy and stroked her finger along her outer labia, bringing it up to brush against her clit. The suggestion became a quiet insistence, then a noisy demand as she circled her finger around her pussy, over and over, delaying the gratification just a little longer.
If Jim were here, she thought idly, he'd definitely know how to take care of it. She didn't get these urges often--well, not too often--but when she did, it always seemed like Jim knew it before she knew it herself. He'd reach across to her while she was still half in dreams, and rub his thumb across her nipple (without even thinking about it, she brought her other hand up to tweak her nipple, twisting it ever so slightly), and he'd slip a finger into her pussy (her own fingers trailed along her labia into her cleft like water circling a drain), and she'd gasp (she gasped) and she'd moan (she moaned) and she'd reach out a hand for his cock (the hand rubbing her breast twitched, as though circling an imaginary shaft, but continued its stimulation, unable to move away now)...
Sex before bed was always nice, she thought, her brain tripping along from thought to thought, skipping like a stone on a sea of bliss, but those late-night moments, when the two of them just felt that same need at the same time, like two bodies with a single mind, two gasping (gasping) moaning (moaning) needing...wanting...cumming...cumming... cummmmmming......
Once wasn't always enough for her and Jim, she remembered as she slipped a second finger into her pussy to join the first, even as the heel of her hand rubbed at her clit. Sometimes, sometimes it was like once was just an appetizer, sensitizing her for the rest of their lovemaking, but far, far too quick to really...satisfy...Jim would get so hard, so fast, he'd slip his nice big cock inside her pussy and thrust...and thrust and thrust...
Beside the bed, there was a cracking noise, like a circuit breaker popping...her eyes shot open, but she didn't stop, not even for a second...now the bliss was too pure, the ecstasy too sweet to be denied...she watched the two translucent red humanoids flicker into existence without even caring that the covers had worked their way down around her knees, and that her nightgown had worked its way up somewhere around her shoulders...she just wanted to cum again, and everything seemed to bring it further along--the wind blowing outside the window, the cold air on her breasts, the voices in her head saying, again and again, "Oh, shit...oh, shit...oh, shit..."
She gasped along with them as she came...and came...and came...and then one of them dropped the device it had been pointing at her.
She didn't exactly scream. A scream is a conscious expression of alarm, a cry of warning and a cry for help, and she wasn't thinking about help or warning at that point. Her voice was lower, harsher, an expression of instinctive revulsion and horror as she skittered backwards across the bed, putting it between her and the...the whatever they weres.
After a moment, once the shock and disgust had calmed slightly in her mind, she became aware that she could still hear the voices in her head--they seemed vaguely familiar, like those of old friends that had been borrowed for new words to slip into--and after a moment, she realized they must be coming from the creatures across the room from her.
I told you we needed a new cloaker, Kaja,
the one on the left said.
I told you that we'd pushed our luck with that one just one too many times, but no, you said it'd be fine, you said it'd last for one more trip to Earth...
Shut up, Nena,
the other one said.
We've blown our field integrity--let's face it, we're dried. The human can see us, it can hear us, and you said that we'd never need a memory wiper, so why bother with the expense?
Oh, so now this is my fault? Expenses we don't need, I don't want to bother with. Expenses we do need, like a functioning cloaker, I drying well expect you to listen to me when I drying well tell you we need them! What are we going to do? What are we going to do?
