“You look so beautiful, Erica,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss me again, his hand pushing up between my legs and cupping my pussy. His heat and his proximity were almost too much to bear, so I pulled him on to the bed with me, grabbing at his shirt and tugging at it till he whipped it off. I looked at him as he undressed, hypnotized by his gorgeous, toned body; I ran my hands across the taut muscles on his chest, marveling at the hardness of him versus my softness. Our bodies seemed made to go together, they were so perfectly opposite. He held me for a moment, before he ducked down between my legs, peppering kisses along my thigh and up, up towards my pussy. I felt his breath on my clit before he clamped his mouth down, sucking hard, gripping my ass and using it to pull me towards him.
The pressure was almost too intense, the feeling almost too good. I felt my body protesting, still sensitive from the last orgasm, but it soon gave way into delicious pleasure. His tongue was clearly experienced, his mouth moving with practiced grace against me. I wanted to thrust my hips up to meet him, to lose myself in the sensation of his mouth on my body, but I held myself back. It was such a new thing, to have a man wanting me this much, willing to just lie between my legs and pleasure me, and I wasn’t about to interfere with his considerable skill.
It didn’t take long till I felt that familiar pressure building up inside of me, my legs clamping together around Tate’s head as he increased his speed and his intensity. Sucking hard on my clit, his fingers slid up my body and towards my breasts, rolling the nipples between his thumb and forefinger. And that was it- for the second time that evening, Tate made me come, my body moving in endless gyrations against the softness of my quilt. His stubble had left small scratches inside my thighs, the kind that made me wince with pleasure every time they came together.
He positioned himself so he was above me, slowly lowering his mouth down to mine again. I could taste myself on his lips, and the physical proof of where he’d been was intoxicating, delicious. I couldn’t get enough of him. By now, my pussy was aching to be filled, my body crying out for some real relief. It had been so long since I’d been with a man in that way, and I could already feel my heart beating in my chest as I fumbled in my nightstand for that box of condoms I had always kept around “just in case.” I pulled out one of the foil packets, looking up at him as I pushed it into his hand.
“You sure about this?” he asked, his eyes soft. I nodded.
“Are you?”
“Damn right I am,” he smiled, bringing his mouth softly to mine as he ripped open the foil, unbuckled his jeans, and kicked off his underwear. Then he hesitated.
“What?” I asked worried he was having second thoughts
“I wanted to feel you bareback.” He replied lustily
I hesitated for a split second, and then came my uncharacteristic response. I grabbed the box of condoms from him and flung them across the room. I felt him position his cock head at the entrance to my slit, and looked down to watch him enter me; Christ, he was big. About as thick around as my clenched fist, and at least nine inches long. Tate gently lifted my foot, draping my ankle over his shoulder, as he lined himself up.
“Ready?” He asked, his voice brimming with anticipation.
“Ready,” I replied, and he slowly eased his way into me. I gasped as I felt his girth stretch my slit, landing somewhere between pleasure and pain, until he’d pushed his full length inside me. He held himself inside me for a second, as if savoring the sensation, and then he began to move. With my leg over his shoulder, he used my ass for leverage, sliding deeper into me with every thrust. The feeling was…intense. I had never been with anyone this big before, and it had been a while since I’d had sex anyway. This was a shock to adjust to, but he felt so damn good inside me too. His hips slowed, and he rocked against me, hitting every spot inside me.
I squeezed my eyes shut, allowing the feelings-but physical and emotional-to swim through my body. It was hard to articulate what I was actually feeling in those moments. Of course, there was arousal- serious, unsatisfied, passionate arousal, the kind that wanted to be begged to be fucked, hard, until I came over and over again on Tate’s thick length. There was some of the guilt I’d so successfully put from my mind, but more than anything there was comfort. There was something so deeply comforting about being with a man I felt so safe with, someone who’d seen me at my very worst and still wanted me. I mean, I wasn’t going to lie- it helped that he was stunningly handsome and had already made me cum twice. But it was his attention to want I wanted and his desire to make me feel comfortable that I really liked. I felt him pick up the pace above me, as he ran his hand up my thigh, pressing kisses along my bare flesh. Reaching down to move my breasts out of my dress, he released my nipples again, bringing his mouth down so that he could brush his lips against them. The best I could do was sink my hands into his back and try to hold on for dear life; the way he was moving his hips against me was hypnotically good, and I could feel my exhausted body heading towards another orgasm.
“Oh, fuck!” I gasped, pulling myself up against him so that my torso was curled up, my head against his chest. He continued, with deeper, harder, slower movements, the kind that sent a shudder all the way through my body. I felt myself teeter for a moment, and then the climax washed over me, my pussy grasping at his slick cock as I fell back onto the bed. A series of moans and groans came from between my lips as he pushed into me once more, letting out a single, loud cry, and found his own release. We stayed like that for a moment, waiting until our breathing rounded out and our bodies came back to earth.
“So…how do you feel?” Tate asked, cautiously, once a few minutes had passed. He moved off of me removing his cock from my now dripping slit.
“Good,” I smiled. “Really good. What about you?”
He cocked his head at me, that hint of a grin I’d seen so many times before now sending shivers up my spine. “I think I might have to try it again to find out.”
I rolled my eyes at him, but, as he began to run his fingers through my matted hair and pull me closer, I couldn’t help a smile breaking out over my face. This felt good. This felt right. This was about time.
The next few weeks were some of the best I’d had since Jake’s passing. For once, I was finally able to let go of my identity as a widow, as someone who’d been left behind, because I had someone to give myself to now. It felt like the final piece of the puzzle had been slotted into place, and Tate and I began happily dating.
Of course, there were more than a few raised eyebrows-hell, some friends from before got back in contact and asked me if what they had heard was true. When I told them it was, and that Tate and I were very happy together, they seemed horrified that I’d had the audacity to move on with someone they didn’t approve of. But I didn’t give a damn- after all, why should I? I had been given a chance at starting over with my love life, and I wasn’t about to turn it down just because some nobodies were trying to interfere with my life. Fuck that. I had spent to long trying to do what was expected of me, and I refused to do that any longer.
It took us some time to get used to being in a relationship again, but we eventually managed to get into a routine. Tate would come round to mine while I finished up work, and he would cook something for dinner. We’d pour a glass of wine, and we’d share the most interesting parts of our day with each other. Tate kept up his training for the counselling, and I was proud of him for it; he never ceased to impress me.
I found something to love in our little set-up. Maybe it was the simplicity of it, maybe it was the fact that we still hadn’t committed to anything big or life-changing, so it all felt safe. But more than anything, I knew that I finally felt complete. I had spent so long believing that my life could never be rebuilt after a tragedy like the one that had struck me, and Tate had believed the same thing. It had taken us finding each other to prove that there was always a second chance at a good start. And that was all I needed.
It was about two months later that simple went out the wind
ow. Tate came over and knew something was amiss from the look on my face. My features twisted in apprehension as he gave me a concerned look. Tears welled up in my eyes as I held up the positive pregnancy test I had been clutching closely to my side. No words were needed and my anxiety turned to elation as he pulled me close and nuzzled his scruff into my neck. I clenched him and pulled him inside to take me yet again.
THE END
Rescued by an Alien Prince
All that Amy really learned about life in her 30 years of continual disappointment was that life is lonely. Her teens were spent chasing after unrequited love. Her twenties filled with desperation and rash decisions, all culminating in humiliation and loveless sex. They say the thirties are even worse—that’s when you discover that, in addition to filtering out liars and manipulators, you must also be on guard against people who are confused. People who think they love you but only wind up wasting three years of your life on a silly assumption.
Amy sighed, downing sweet tea like it was alcohol. She couldn’t even drink to feel better about the great tragedy of life. Every bad one night stand she had, ended with one too many drinks. Alcohol tasted like empty love. At least sweet tea always left her feeling better. Sweetness was her weakness. Not only was a “Sweet Man” hard to resist on those lonely weekends; but sweet snacks were also the everlasting temptation.
She put on fifty pounds over the past two year, reclassifying herself as a Big Beautiful Woman with curves. She oftentimes felt embarrassed about the extra weight gain, and couldn’t help but think back to her early twenties when she had that skinny figure that always turned heads.
But where did that get her, anyway? A bunch of shallow men that just wanted to take her to bed. At least big beautiful women aren’t preyed upon as often, she figured. Most assholes of the world leave us alone. They can’t stand the sight of us just like we can’t stand the sight of them. I don’t care what people think anymore. I would rather meet a decent man who loved me—all of me—then spend one more day trying to train myself my body to meet some asshole’s high standards.
If love existed, it would find her. If it didn’t, then Amy was ready to call it quits. Love on your own terms is all anyone ever wants. And when she finally turned 30, she accepted it. I have high standards. And if all men everywhere are that shallow, I’ll just as soon find the perfect man in heaven.
Well, heaven never called. But little did Amy know that the day after her 30th birthday, on June 18, her life would change and take a turn for the worst. Yes, it turns out there are worse things than loneliness.
Amy couldn’t sleep. She tossed and turned until she scooted over towards the clock. Only 5 AM. I don’t have to get up for another five hours. Great…now what am I going to do?
Like any lonely woman, she began pleasuring herself, figuring that a quick endorphin rush could be just what she needed to fall back asleep with a vengeance. However, she put on such a show that night—fingers, dildos and vibrators oh my—that she inadvertently called some very unsolicited attention to herself.
A spaceship hovered in the sky, not 400 yards from Amy’s bedroom ceiling. There was no sound as the engine was highly advanced and the metal made from magnesium. The ship wasn’t huge, as the Chubalahan species of Pisces 9 never liked to draw attention to themselves. They never respected their little green genetic cousins, the Arcturians who were always so damn flamboyant with their ships, their customized green skins, and their insistence on programming their eyes to be six times as big as necessary. They seemed to think that dealing with humans was all about being “alpha” and domineering.
The Chubalahan species took a more measured approach. They were not afraid of humans, nor did they consider them highly advanced. No species did, not really; human beings had only recently evolved into self-aware creatures and were still struggling with crude personality traits.
The Chubalahans were practical. When it was time to meet their quota for experimentation programs, they took only the “fringe human species” that seemed to be the least ingratiated into society. They also didn’t have the vicious streak of other aliens like the Pleiadeans. They treated their prisoners with the latest technology in leisure and comfort.
Prince Radiant of the Chubalahans was on deck for the expedition, crossing off names and just arrived at the small town of Woodrin in Ecan County. He himself chose Amy out of the possible 10,000 women in the town. Most of the other women had families and would probably raise a stink about alien kidnappings if they were sloppy. A being like Amy, already solitary and seemingly isolated from society, was a safe choice.
The fact that she was already pleasuring herself also indicated high levels of fertility, which certainly made the tests easier on the Chubalahans.
“All right,” the Prince said tiredly, speaking to a cadet. Materialize her up. We’ll start the test at 0800 hours.”
“Just the human or the battle tank she is attached to?”
“It’s called a bed, cadet,” the prince said with a head shake. “Do your homework once in a while. It’s not a tank.”
“Humans sleep on these beds? It seems like a waste of space.”
“You will find, my good friend, that humans waste plenty of space with all sorts of irrational products and memorabilia. It’s a good indication that they’re bored. They ought to thank us for giving them something to worry about.”
The cadet entered Amy’s coordinates and beamed her up instantly, watching her in curiosity as she writhed on the floor, wearing only black shorts and a pink blouse.
“What the hell?” Amy screamed, quickly removing her hand from her pants and trying to look inconspicuous. “Oh no, am I dreaming?”
“Yes, this is all a dream,” the cadet said lazily—that’s what they all say.
The Prince watched Amy become adjusted to her environment in smiling curiosity. She couldn’t see him from the observation chamber. He took down some notes. He noticed that even in a foreign environment she seemed self-conscious about her body. She covered her arms and crossed her legs, disallowing the cadet to look at her milky white thighs.
Her freckled face and red hair was delightful, he admitted. She seemed to be atypical in that she did not have an accumulation of old makeup products, nor any dyed hair strands as most females in their 30s did.
“It feels so real,” Amy said, looking around the spaceship. Suddenly, she put her arm out and pinched herself. “Ow!”
“What are you doing?”
“Trying to take control of my dream. Sometimes if I pinch myself, I can take power over my dream and start controlling the world.”
“I see. What a strange interpretation of the world your species has.”
“Why am I even talking to you,” Amy said with a sneer. “You’re just my subconscious anyway.”
“Oookay.”
“I know that because you’re speaking English. If you were real, you would be speaking some alien language, not English.”
“Actually, that’s usually only in the movies. In reality, we use what is called a thought-to-speech converter, which auto-detects the language of our visitor and then converts thought signals to motor functions.”
“So you’re actually speaking…?”
“Chubalahan.”
“I see. This is a strange dream for me to be having. Oh well, summoning Brad Pitt now…” She closed her eyes and concentrated.
“What are you doing?” Prince Radiant asked, walking into full view and approaching the cadet.
“Whoah, there’s another of you? Cute trick, but I really want to summon a celebrity…”
“This isn’t a dream.”
“Riiight, and you just randomly kidnapped me from my bed for no apparent reason.”
“There is a reason, actually,” the Prince said coming out of the chamber and joining them on the deck. He struck Amy as a very handsome being, if not anything close to human. He was still humanoid, with strong masculine features and a chiseled face of perfection. His skin was blue but his mus
cular structure was much the same. He was also slightly larger than a man, standing eight feet tall and with larger mass in his muscles. He wore a royal costume, befitting of a prince. He wore colors of purple and gold, regal colors that spoke to his high ranking position. His belt buckle was shining with gold, it being a an object of great merit, earned in wartime.
“Once every ten years, we return to earth and take one woman for our Comprehensive Variable Breeding Program.”
“What?”
“Compre-”
“I heard you. Breeding program? Is that what I think it is?”
“Yes. We fertilize your eggs and impregnate you. The odds of us choosing you are actually quite astronomical. You should feel honored.”
“Honored? Is it an honor to be forced to breed without consent?”
“But…” the Prince said with arched eyebrows, “All females want to breed.”
“Says who?!”
“It’s evolutionary. You all have the biological instinct to procreate. Once you find a genetically superior male, your fertility levels increase and you reproduce. I thought at the age of 30 you already knew these basic facts.”
“Umm,” Amy said angrily, “I know about it. But I think you have a totally offensive viewpoint. I’m actually really annoyed at my own subconscious right now for dreaming this.”
“This isn’t a dream. Please prepare for an evaluation.”
“A what?!” she said, backing away from the Prince.
“It’s a routine medical examination. We will take samples and ensure you are ready for maximum state of arousal and impregnation.”
SCOTTISH ROMANCE: My Sinful Surrender to a Highlander Werewolf (Scottish Werewolf Pregnancy Romance) (Historical Medieval Shape Shifter Paranormal Science Fiction Short Stories) Page 72