Slag sets his flute down and looks at me with interest, his nostrils flaring.
There is nothing normal going on here. Nothing. Not being on this planet in outer fucking space. Not sharing reds with a male who outweighs me by a hundred pounds and whose skin is green and pebbled. Not the fact that he’s never spoken a single word and yet I’m certain he’s the kindest male I’ve ever known. And definitely not the fact that my core aches to be filled by the giant green cock staring at me from where it pushed past the folds of his tattered loincloth.
He reaches out and feathers his fingers through my hair, the concert a distant memory as all I can think about is the fact that my lips are lonely and my pussy’s empty and I want to have sex with Slag more than I’ve wanted anything in my life. What could be the harm? I have a contraceptive implant.
He’s signaling his interest, but waiting for me just as he did before. If I had any misgivings, they certainly vanish when raging desire slashes through me again. It’s a wave so powerful I can’t ignore or stop it.
Just as I did the other day, I take a note from his playbook and start where he likes to start.
Sitting across from him, I match his posture, sitting cross-legged, my knees bumping his. Leaning forward, I gently grab him above the knees and slide my fingers half-way up his thighs.
Although his skin is tough—perfect for surviving in the mines all those years—it’s soft to the touch.
“You feel good, Slag,” I say as I spear him with my gaze.
He places his hands on mine and nudges them higher. A shudder vibrates through me when I remember he’s been underground a long time. After what happened the other night, I’m sure he’s a virgin. Why this ratchets up my desire a thousandfold I have no idea. But the drumbeat of my arousal gets louder, more insistent.
He unwraps his loincloth, then reaches to pick me up by the waist and sets me on his lap, my feet on the ground, my center open to him, then snugs me as close as two people can be—almost.
When his huge calloused hands cup my cheeks, I let out a little moan. There’s something about the absolute tenderness of his movements juxtaposed with my flaming need, that touches me to my very core.
The way his lips explore mine, tentative, almost surprised, I’m certain this is his first kiss. When I groan in pleasure his tongue sneaks into my mouth.
Circling his waist with my legs, I force our pelvises even closer together.
“You’re ahead of me, Slag. Make me naked,” I say breathlessly.
He easily pulls my t-shirt over my head, then seems stymied by my bra and jeans. I stand to rip off all the rest of my clothes and realize how much I want him now. It’s not want, it’s unquenchable, relentless need.
Maybe later we’ll make love, but right now I want to get animal with him. I put my feet flat on the ground and sit back on his lap with the intention to slide onto him without any further preliminaries. Then realize my folly. This big boy might die a virgin because I’m not certain I can accommodate him.
I’m painfully horny. Nothing in my experience prepared me for this level of intense desire.
Grabbing his hand from where it’s lodged on the small of my back, I try to press it between us. I move away from him, giving him access to touch my folds. I want penetration. No, I need penetration. Although I don’t think that huge weapon of his can breach me without tearing me in two, there’s more than one way for both of us to reach fulfillment.
Luckily, he doesn’t need a YouTube tutorial. He slides a thick finger inside my slick channel.
“Yes. Slag.” I tip my pelvis to inch him deeper inside.
I pump on him and a moment later he takes over the heavy lifting as he leans me back on the vine mat we constructed earlier.
“That’s right. Like that.”
He watches as I rub my little button. He rearranges himself and uses his cheek to bat my hand out of the way, replacing my fingers with his mouth without missing a beat.
“Slag. Perfect.”
As much as I love a man going downtown on me, it’s usually an appetizer prior to the main course. I’m surprised, then, when I edge toward release. My fingers grab his thick shoulders with an intensity that might hurt another male, but it spurs Slag on in all the best ways as his tongue circles faster, a second finger joins the first, and he pumps harder.
It still doesn’t feel like enough, so I meet him thrust for thrust until I scream my release.
My moans fly around the enclosed chamber, echoing on themselves, continuing after my last spasm fades.
“Shit, Slag. You’re a fast learner,” I pant.
That usually impassive face looks pretty proud right this moment. The thrusting chest and gleam in his eye give him away.
So does his engorged cock. The green skin looks glossy, as if it’s stretched far too tightly.
I lean over, ready to perform a reprise of the other night’s oral sex, when I realize I’m ready for round two myself.
No, not ready. I’m desperate.
I reach between my legs and feel my slickness. I’m so drenched and dripping wet I feel it drizzling down onto my back hole. I’ve never been this wet before, never been this horny.
The thought bursts into my brain that something’s not right. I like Slag. I want to pleasure him and receive pleasure in return, but my body isn’t normal. Maybe this is the radiation, but that doesn’t even make sense.
And Slag.
