So. There I was. A rainy Thursday night at home. Nothing doing. Nothing on television, half-heartedly cooking dinner, nothing flash. Idly pondering the thought of spending some time on Lit. Remembering that I had to take the rubbish out. Mundanity writ large.
And then it happened. There wasn't a bright light, nor was there a strange rumbling. There wasn't anything too distinct at all, just a momentary sense of dislocation, a brief mist that affected the brain as well as the mind, and all of a sudden, I wasn't at home anymore. No, I was quite clearly a long, long way from home. Although I still had a spoon in my hand that was covered in bolognese sauce. I held onto it tightly, a familiar object in an unfamiliar world.
I was in a corridor, made out of what appeared to be some kind of oddly pearlescent marble, with gently glowing and, overall, quite soothing lights within it. The walls curved away ahead of me; I looked back over my shoulder to see a similar prospect. My heart was racing, but as the moments passed and I wasn't immediately eviscerated, exterminated or otherwise severely inconvenienced, my breathing slowed.
I couldn't just stand there, could I? I had to walk forwards. I mean, I tried the whole clicking-my-heels-together-lets-go-back-to-Kansas thing, but no dice. So I put one foot in front of the other, and kept on going. I followed the gently curving corridor, and the lights moved along with me, gently shepherding me onward.
I emerged into a wider, open space, with screens built into the walls, covered in squiggles, symbols, flashing lights. I blinked, trying to take it all in, trying to commit to memory this most unusual turn of events. And then, I saw that in front of me was a high-backed chair, facing away from me. The chair started to turn, slowly ... I felt my heart racing again, drawing in breath sharply, preparing to flee, quite where I don't know, but that whole fight-or-flight adrenaline thing was kicking in.
The chair completed its turn. And, hard as this may be to believe, a woman was sitting in it. Not a 6-foot Amazon queen, not some kind of catwalk model. Just a normal woman. Pretty, when I thought about it. Nice eyes. And curvy too. Curves in all the right places, that hint of sin in slight overabundance. In fact, gorgeous. Just not out-of-this-world gorgeous, even though that's precisely where we were.
My one-track mind was shaken from this appreciation of my host's appearance as she spoke.
"Hi. I am Sprakkkgos8utjgalslg23. But I understand this is hard to say in your language. You may call me Stacy."
"Stacy?"
"Stacy. Now. I must apologise for having so peremptorily – um – borrowed you from your home. But I am engaged on a mission of vital scientific urgency. And you can help us."
It was at this point that I wondered about the mushrooms I'd put into the bolognese. Or whether I had simply fallen asleep. Or whether I had gone mad. I mean, I know the difference between fantasy and reality. And this was quite clearly off-the-charts fantasy.
"On the contrary, it is quite real. And do not worry about your - bolognese? - whatever it is. This is not fantasy."
"How did you do that?"
"Brain-wave scan technology is quite easily developed. A small adaptation to the neural networks means we can assimilate language and knowledge virtually instantly."
"So why do you need me?" I asked, although I already knew the answer.
"Because without physical experience, knowledge is passive. It is, if you will, a form of masturbation."
I gulped.
"And what exactly can I do on this front?"
I liked the glint in her eye and the naughtiness in her smile as she replied, adopting a sudden, sultry accent: "Ve vish to study your primitive matink rituals."
-0-
Part III: Getting To Know You, Getting To Know All About You
Elsewhere in the ship, the crew were still gathered round the screen where the computer was playing the disc that had been rescued from zone Taureo-15. There was a hushed silence as the grainy visuals played themselves out, before the crew erupted into chatter about what they had seen – at last, something new. Something exciting. And something decidedly kinky.
***
Stacy was escorting me to a private room. As she did so, she languidly started to remove her somewhat utilitarian space uniform, trailing the garments across the floor behind her. With each movement, each scrap of cloth that departed, a beautiful woman was revealed in front of me. With – and I blush to relate it – a simply cracking pair of tits and an arse I could worship for the rest of time.
I followed her. What else could I do? While fairly firmly convinced that none of this was actually happening, and that it was in fact quite possible that I had actually just suffered some kind of brain storm that had left me trapped in a universe of my own twisted imagining, there was still a gorgeous woman leading me on, with promises of lust and fucking.
Stacy closed the door behind us.
"Aren't you a bit uncomfortable with all those clothes on? Our studies have indicated that they are unnecessary. Unless they will help to arouse you?"
"Ah, no," I stumbled, starting to strip as quickly as I could, in that gawky way a man does when there is only one thing on his mind, and the small animal bit in the brain is in charge. Soon I was naked. And, despite the deeply confusing evening I was having, I was ready for action. In fact I was straining at the leash.
She raised an eyebrow. "My," she said. "Ve are a big boy, aren't ve."
(I am fairly convinced that this was the result of her having read my brain patterns for what I wanted to hear, with the lurking fear that she would in fact sigh, put her clothes back on and kick me out of the nearest airlock.)
We embraced, and suddenly nature – if that's the right word -- took over. Her curves fitted to me, her eyes shone up at me, and I dipped my head and kissed her, hard and long, sliding a hand around her waist, up her back and then down, down, down to that wondrous bottom. Her hand, meanwhile, found its way between us and snaked between my thighs to grasp my cock, stroking it between our stomachs, making me groan. I felt her heavy breasts pressed against me, felt the heat building, kissed her harder, my other hand moving to her neck to pull her to me. Her hand started to move, slowly but tight around me, coaxing and encouraging.
Suddenly there was a soft bed underneath us, and we tumbled forward into it, locked together, hungrily exploring each other. I lifted her nipples in turn to my mouth, sucking deep on them, rubbing my fingers roughly over them. She moaned, an animal hint to the tone there too that excited me more. After all, even if she was an alien, we humans are just animals too.
I pushed her back on the bed from me, her hand reluctantly releasing my hard cock, and knelt gently between her legs. I kissed the soft, sweet curls there and then that soft skin on her thighs, feeling her squirm under me. And then I tasted her, and I was lost in the taste of her, my tongue busily tracing lust-patterns over her lips and clit, her moans driving me on, her hips bucking and her legs stiffening. I pushed my tongue inside her, hungry for her, loving the feel of her cunt around me, moving to circle her clit with my thumb.
And then she was moving, pushing my head up and rolling over to be atop me, moving down my body, and then enveloping the head of my cock with her hot, wet mouth, looking up at me with such wide eyes. My hands clasped at the bed as she sucked, taking me deeper with each move, a hand helping to stroke me.
And then, just as I thought she would beckon me to take her, fuck her, ride her, pump her hard and fast and until she came her brains out, she stopped. And asked me to turn away.
I complied. It was her spaceship, after all.
There was some rustling behind me, some ill-defined movement. I waited, my cock throbbing and my mind full of delirious fantasy.
