Superf***er Vol. 07

I kissed her nose gently, still stroking slowly. "Darling Amy. Don't worry... I may not be able to stay in town for long, but if ever you need me, just call and I'll come running..."

She gave a wan smile; perhaps she didn't believe me, given how it had been up until now, but I meant it, at least within the limits of my task. Still, it felt maybe a little reassuring; she kissed my arm (which was right by her head), closed her eyes, turned her head slightly away. She seemed to be trying to focus on the pleasurable sensations of intercourse instead of her worries about the consequences she was signing on for. As for me, well, part of me wanted to keep up the slow-and-sensual fucking, but suddenly a part of me no longer could. She was justso beautiful lying there, partial profile, amazing red hair gently and naturally flowing about her head. Her nose was delicate, her eyebrows fine copper. And somewhere out of sight but definitely not out of mind, my dick was buried deep inside of her. Too aroused to do otherwise, I picked up the pace, fucking faster and harder.

I think it helped; my escalation created a corresponding increase in the intensity of her sensations as well, and they felt good. "Oooh," she gasped, laying flat again, eyes still closed. The pleasures of intercourse had driven the concerns temporarily from her mind.

I felt her pull her legs up even further, curling her pelvis slightly, providing my penetrating penis an even more direct angle of attack. Hand in glove, our sexes grasped each other, stroked each other, excited each other. My thrusts grew more intense, almost violent, and her receptive organ adapted easily.

Animalistically, I grasped out to my sides blindly, seeking her slender calves. Finding them, I guided them up onto my shoulders. This drew her pelvis up, so now as I resumed thrusting I was pressing almost straight down into her. She sucked in air for a second, perhaps at first the intensity of my thrusting battering her cervix may have been uncomfortable. But just as quickly her vagina adjusted, and the sucking sound was replaced by a moan. I was drilling her hard and fast, and we both were in ecstasy.

I turned my head, still pounding like some kind of ape-man, and gently kissed her calf. With her big toes right by my ears, I had fine, up-close look at her leg. The skin was so pale it seemed to delicate, yet she was withstanding--and enjoying--penetrations so intense as to be almost brutal. I was so close I could see a few fine freckles--something else that was unknown in my own species. I turned to look back at Amy. Her head was thrown back, eyes open but not focused on anything, mouth open slightly as well. She was so beautiful, for a moment I just felt so fortunate to be fucking the shit out of such a gorgeous creature.

My eyes were drawn downward by the motion of her breasts; Amy (and the poor bed springs) absorbed my thrusts, but her lovely breasts recoiled like waves against a rock with every penetration. The pink nipples were pointing straight up, looking almost like tasty gumdrops. Involuntarily I licked my lips at the thought; I imagined suckling one of them again, and started to try to bend forward to take one into my mouth. I never made it.

Amy closed her eyes as she felt my erection turn rock solid, knowing I was about to cum. She laid back and focused on the sensations of being on the receiving end of my orgasm, her body laid open to me. She wasn't merely accepting my penis for pleasure; she was accepting my sperm for a child, and she was savoring what was likely to be a life-changing moment.

As was my preference, I held tight at the point of maximum penetration while ejaculating. The orgasm was intense beyond comprehension. What a difference it made to have such an emotional bond with my partner--I'd had sex for four, maybe five hundred consecutive days at that point, but it was almost like something completely different than this. Years ago, there used to be ice tea ads that featured people falling backwards into swimming pools to symbolize the cool refreshingness of the product. If you took that idea, but replaced coolness with sheer orgasmic pleasure, it only begins to describe how wonderful that moment felt.

When it was over, I collapsed on top of her, kissing her ardently.

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"So do you think I'll get pregnant?" she wondered wistfully some time later. I had my arm around her and she was lying on my chest, absently playing with the hairs there.

"More than likely...my sperm carries with it hormones that stimulate ovulation. For us, sex almost always leads to conception unless some sort of barrier is used."

"Really?" she mused. "Wow. So do people have sex a lot less often where you come from?"

I kissed her forehead. "Indeed--and again, you insightfully sense the repercussions immediately. Sex is a big commitment, so generally it only happens when you're trying to conceive. Human female receptiveness seems to an adaptation to the menstrual cycle and the uncertainty as to when you are fertile. Our females don't menstruate, so they're not as receptive. That's the reason for some of our other adaptations--if you get too forward with a woman on my planet, she'll fuck you up!"

Amy giggled adorably. "So how does it affect men, that women aren't receptive?"

"Well..." I considered. A great question I'd not specifically considered before. "I can't say if it makes men more driven to procreate or not, because I don't know what it feels like to be a human male. It means that sex usually happens in the context of our equivalent to marriage--but, since marriage doesn't have any religious overtones in our society, they don't tend to last. 90% of marriages end within five years--but then again five of our years is like 60 of yours, so maybe that's time enough..."

"Five of your years is like 60 of ours? How long do you live?"

"Forty or fifty years--but that's like 500 earth years."

"Wow."

"Can you imagine being with the same partner for 500 years and never having sex? Neither can we. What you tend to see is serial pairings; children are fully mature by about age 4, so you see one couple have kids, break up, and then re-pair with another partner later. Since we don't have menstruation, we don't have menopause--women can conceive until the day they die."

"Interesting," she replied.

"It also makes for a THRIVING sex industry. Since most women won't have sex with you, men will pay quite a bit for a woman that will. There are a lot fewer prostitutes than demand for them, since most of them undergo sterilization first. As a result, they are often out of the price range of the average man, and are primarily a luxury for the rich. But pornography is ubiquitous--every male has a collection, and makes no bones about it. In fact women often encourage it, as it helps get us off their backs.

"Don't you have rampant STDs?" she asked with some concern.

"They don't exist," I replied calmly. "Maybe they never evolved; since sex is so infrequent it's not a good means of transmission if you're a germ. But I also suspect that somehow, we're immune to them."

"I suppose I should have asked about that sooner," she chided herself. "What's wrong with me? I knew you had sex with hundreds of women, and never asked if you had an STD!?!?!?!"

"Don't worry, all signs are that I'm clean. I'm immune to some other earth diseases too, so I've concluded I can't catch STDs and run with it. I hope I'm right--can you imagine the shame of being the first member of your species to get VD?"

She giggled again. This time she kissed me. "You know, even though I know, I still have a hard time believing that you're really from outer space."

"Does it frighten you?"

"A little late now," she smiled.

"Look into my eyes," I commanded.

"What...why?" she asked, but she did.

"Just keep looking..." I answered softly. After a few minutes, I could tell that the kaleidoscopic illusion had set in. As she watched the colors of my eyes dance and change, she drifted off to sleep.

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Next morning we made love again. It was completely unnecessary from the perspective of procreation, but that's also not why we did it. We had sex as an expression of intimacy between two beings, even if they were born hundreds of light-years apart. In fact we lingered in bed so long we had to rush to get out before check-out time. I took my dearest Amy to lunch, then sent her back to the city in a cab before heading to the airport myself.

From that day forward, Amy became my soulmate. In the weeks that followed, I bought a brownstone on the upper west side, moved Amy into it, and moved the foundation office as well so she could work out of her house--that made things a lot easier once the baby came. I was flattered that she wanted to name him William after me, even though that was never my name. From day one, though, he was just known as "little Billy." He was the first of my children where I was present for the delivery, as indeed I would be for all of them. I eventually moved into the brownstone myself; when it became clear that any children still being born wouldn't be old enough to help when the comet arrived, I retired from Phase I. I lived with Amy and the children, trying my best to be a normal dad, waiting for the day when the comet would come and it would come time to launch Phase II.