Elena and Marco lay side by side in the late-summer heat, their
bodies bare and glistening both from nature’s own humidity and their
recent efforts in mutual pleasure. The wind made the lake’s waves
ripple and their picnic basket sat empty, the various bits of paper
wrap and emptied plates as much a testament to sated hunger as their
own naked, resting positions.
Elena squeezed her lover’s cock, softened but still a wonderfully
firm weight in her hand, and looked at the sky as her heartbeat came
down to normal. “Look at the clouds, Marquito,” she cooed. “Aren’t
they pretty? Why that one looks just like the state of Florida!”
Marco tweaked the nearer of Elena’s puffy nipples and yawned.
“Then Castro must be trying to retake our friends, because that cloud
looks like it’s coming right down on top of us!”
And indeed it was moving down in a most un-cloudlike fashion,
until it surrounded the small bower of privacy where the two lovers had
come for their time together. Up close, the stuff felt like soap
bubbles; they both giggled at the sensation.
From somewhere in the middle of the foggy mass, they heard the
sound of a door opening. Two shapes loomed indistinctly approaching
them, but strangely they felt no fear. Their giddy mood became an
all-out fit of laughter as the first of the beings came into clear
view.
The best description might be one’s well-endowed maiden aunt, if
she were in the habit of sunbathing nude and walking around wearing
only a paisley waist pouch and a pair of cat-eyed sunglasses. Elena’s
mood darkened slightly as she felt Marco’s erection throb at sight of
the stranger.
The woman, for that was how they had to think of the alien, stood
over the two of them. A strange lassitude gripped both Marco and
Elena, and they could only lay there as the woman peered at them and
softly ran her six-fingered hands over their bodies. With one hand she
penetrated Elena, and with the other she impaled Marco, and both hands
set up an alien yet intimately familiar rhythm.
First Elena, then Marco, cried out in passion as their bodies
responded to the stimulation. From the waist pouch, the woman pulled
out an uncovered jar and held it to catch Marco’s ropy streams, then
she drew forth her fingers from inside Elena to carefully wipe their
sticky coatings into the same jar.
The two lovers stared up sightlessly into the fog, lost in their
own separate erotic dreams, as the alien covered the jar and leaned
over each one, staring at them through the cat-eyed sunglasses for a
time before nodding her head.
A few moments later… or could it have been an hour…
Elena and Marco lay side by side in the late-summer heat, their
bodies bare and glistening both from nature’s own humidity and their
recent efforts in mutual pleasure. The wind made the lake’s waves
ripple and their picnic basket sat empty, the various bits of paper
wrap and emptied plates as much a testament to sated hunger as their
own naked, resting positions.
Elena squeezed her lover’s cock, finding it not softened from
their lovemaking but rather still full, throbbing in her grip, and if
anything larger than she remembered it. She rose and straddled him,
looking at his instrument of pleasure. “Twice in the afternoon? You do
the sweetest things for me, mi corazon!”
Somewhere in the sky, a stray cloud moved outward.