Coming Home

Ania glanced again at the clock. 5.15. Desk cleared, emails answered, bag packed. In 15 minutes, she would be running down the office stairs and just catch the 5.35 bus from outside the building. The new blue dress looked good – lots of admiring glances today. Mentally, she appraised her body working down from her new black bob, across her raspberry-nippled breasts, down her flat brown tummy, to her tiny rectangle of freshly pruned hair, then down and up her long, smooth legs to the flushed lips. Soon he would be studying her, in just the same way. Her vulva swelled in anticipation, pressed hard down against the office chair. If she could just reach down and touch...

Marie loomed into view. Please God, not now. Clock ticking. “Hey, Ania. “ Sitting on the desk now; a big frilly obstruction between here and the exit. Wrong place at the wrong time.

“Got any plans for the weekend?”

Yes, she had plans. Wonderful plans. She pressed down harder, tightening her muscles.

“Just a quiet weekend in,” Ania replied with a back-off type smile. 5.24.

“A few of us are going out after work tonight. Want to come?” She had that intensely focused look, like a hound with a scent. Can she smell my sex, Ania thought. Perhaps it’s sending her subliminal messages.

“Oh, thank-you Marie, I really appreciate the invitation. But I have to get home.”

“Come on, it will do you good. It’s been a year now. Time you started going out again and letting your hair down.”

“No, really, Marie, it’s OK,” Ania moved her chair slightly so that she could see the clock. 5.27. Shit.

“Oh? It’s only for a couple of drinks. Why the rush? It’s not like you’ve got anyone waiting for you... Or have you?”

She wasn’t going to let up. Ania was going to have to give her something.

“I’ve got a new pet. His name is Oz. I have to get home to Oz.”

“A pet?” Marie looked sort of disgusted. “What pet?”

“He’s...a dog. I rescued him a few weeks ago. Sorry, Marie, but I really do have to go or I’ll miss the bus. Thanks for the invitation though!”

5.32. Out of the door, down the stairs, through the double doors. She had made it. That was a near-miss. Bloody Marie! What would Oz think if he knew she had described him as a dog? The strange thing was that he probably did know. She felt sure he could read her thoughts, even from this distance. Sorry, Oz, she breathed to her reflection in her purse mirror. I had to throw her off the trail.

She was on the bus now, her clit hard and inflamed, her pussy pressed against the seat again, legs tightly clamped together, her eyes closed. Her nipples almost hurt as they hardened against the thin material of her dress. The dream of Oz spreadacross her body in tiny quivers and twitches. How she longed for him! She resented every moment away from him. Everything else in her life when she wasn’t with him was dead time. Everything else was just waiting to be with Oz.

To think that it was only three weeks ago that she found him! She was just putting the rubbish out one evening and there he was, on her lawn, looking at her. At first, she was a little afraid, of course. She had never seen anything like him before. And, looking back, he was probably a little afraid of her too. They had stood motionless in time, looking at each other, for God knows how long. But somehow they had ‘known’ each other. Known that they could trust. And eventually she had stepped towards him, and he hadn’t run away. Two more steps, and that was it. They were locked in an instant embrace, and it had come into her mind that she must take him in with her and never let him go.

Of course she had to hide him from her friends. They would never understand. It would have been nice if they did. She had been alone for a long time. Even before Martin left. If anything she had been more alone when Martin was there – the passive aggressive comments, the digs, the subtle daily undermining of her self-worth. And now... now, she was happy. She had found someone who made her feel desired and alive in ways she had never imagined possible. But they wouldn’t get it, ever. And the world wouldn’t understand either. They would all crowd in and ruin everything. So, Oz had to remain a secret. He knew that. He understood. But it was hard for him too. He would be waiting for her, pacing in the darkness. She was all he had. But, oh the joy of reconnection! Every night, to run through the apartment door and be swept up in his embrace!

Her pussy throbbed as the bus approached the end of her road. Her whole body felt as though it was opening up from the inside, ready for him. She wanted to be taken; and she knew she would be soon. There would be no words. He would be there, waiting for her, as she pushed the door. She would surrender to him totally, and he would take her in every way possible. It was always the same. It was how they wanted it to be.

She couldn’t see him at first. It was dark; curtains closed, no lights. But she sensed he was in the room. She closed the door, put her bag and coat down, then felt her way past the sofa to the centre of the room. Standing, still, she began to remove her clothes. There was an order she felt he liked. First she slipped off her shoes. Then she reached down and pulled the blue silk dress over her head, revealing her breasts, goosepimpled with anticipation. Then her knickers, slowly, and finally her stockings, rolling each of them down over her legs, before pulling them off from the tips. She knew he was watching. She felt his gaze on her naked body, like a laser marking a path. She knelt down, and then stretched out on the floor, enjoying the caress of the soft-pile rug against her skin. At last she could touch herself. Reaching between her legs, she pressed her middle fingers against her clit. Her other hand found her left nipple and she began to tease it.

Then she felt him. Just a faint brush against her shoulder, but that was enough to tell her he was there. No words. She tensed for a moment, with that slight jolt of fear she always felt. And then she checked herself, and forced her body to relax. She knew he wouldn’t touch her if she was tense. He had to see that she was totally surrendered to him. With deliberate slow motion, she moved her legs apart a little and raised her arms above her head. She closed her eyes.

His moves were smooth but sudden. She felt him nudging against her wet pussy. Slightly cold, he pushed into her, as she moved to make his access easier. She felt her clit swelling and gripping him all the way up inside her. She held him hard, throbbing against him. Then he was at her neck. She felt another cold tentacle sliding over her throat, twisting around her neck, gripping her tightly. She was fixed, part of him holding her down by her neck, and another part deep inside her. She twisted and writhed but he remained still, just holding her in place. Another tentacle brushed against her bottom. Cold, too, like the others but damp – slimy, almost. What does he do, she wondered, and how does he know, as she felt two new tentacles part her cheeks while the slippery one began to penetrate her. The muscles of her anus tried to reject him but he massaged them gently and they gave way as he worked his way deeper inside her. There was nothing else to do but give herself to him. She was completely surrendered; he was opening her up like a fig, gorging on her.

My lover is an alien, she thought with delight, as she felt his strange arms coil around her ankles and pull her legs further apart. An extra terrestrial! And he’s all mine.

She felt a tentacle sliding over her stomach and twisting itself around her waist. Then it tightened and she felt herself being lifted. She was being held by him a few inches from the ground, her waist and neck gripped tightly, and penetrated deeply in her arse and pussy. She wanted to squirm, to wriggle, to press against him, and bring herself to climax, but she couldn’t move. He was just holding her like that. He was looking at her, she knew, but she didn’t quite dare to open her eyes. She felt too exposed, slightly shamed.

He touched her cheek. His strange, cold limb pursed at the end like a finger and traced a line across her face before resting on her lips. Another wrapped itself up in her hair. She opened her mouth and the strange finger slipped inside. That once foreign taste was now familiar, delightful. Slightly salty, slightly bitter. She sucked gently at it, licking the tip. She explored the length of it, running her tongue along the smooth, ribbed top and then moving to lap at the soft underside. She felt another feeler on her breast, then another. They circled her nipples gently, then teased them to a point. She felt something wet and sticky spray onto them. What was that? Then the teasing started again. She desperately wanted to move, but she was still held tightly fixed, suspended in air. The only thing she could move was her tongue. She continued to lick and lap at him. She wanted to taste him. She longed for his juices.

The other tentacles were moving slowly now, winding and undwinding, lifting her up and down, tightening and loosening, pulling her head back by her hair. He began to fuck her. The smooth, flexible shafts moved slowly in and out of her, bending and twisting inside her, stroking her like fingers. She knew she was going to come soon so she opened her eyes. He was there, in front of her face, looking at her. It was dark, but she could see the dim outline of his head and the deep, black pools of his eyes staring at her. She loved him; he was hers and she was his.

‘Give me your juices,’ she willed him, holding his stare. She felt the member in her mouth tense and then he spurted that cold, bitter liquid into her mouth. Aloe vera, was all she could think. And there was lots of it, hitting the roof of her mouth, the back of her throat, seeping down her chin. The expansions inside her began to swell. She was being filled up. The sensation was astonishing, immense. Her climax was close now. She felt that surge of excitement and butterflies people feel on a ride just before the rollercoaster starts its descent. She knew what was coming.

This wasn’t the orgasm of old, of Martin and the teenage fumblings before him. This was another level, another universe. As he began to release into her, pumping her pussy and arse with cold, tingling liquid, she felt herself begin to explode from within. Her sex began to tremble. It was coming. Suddenly, a huge shudder ripped through her and wave after wave of shock-like pulses ran across her body, down her legs and arms, across her breasts, up her back. She kept her eyes on him as the sensations rocketed through her. He looked back at her the whole time, holding her still, caressing her cheek, stroking her breasts, squeezing her throat. Another blast of liquid, this time running over her breasts and running down her stomach and between her legs. He was bathing her in cum. With frenzied rhythm now, he flexed all his medusa penises at once, pulling them from her aperturesand replacing them with others, fucking her, releasing into her, squeezing and stroking her all over. The whole time, her climax continued, never stopping, never slowing. There was nowhere to go, and nowhere she wanted to be, but here.

And then, at last, too soon, he released her. His big dark face lowered slowly towards hers, and his smooth skin touched her lips. The tentacles uncoiled from her waist and neck, and he lowered her gently to the floor, withdrawing from her as her climax subsided slowly, wrapping her spent body up in himself and holding her there, breathing quietly.

Yes, she had plans for the weekend.