Erotic Hitchhiker's Guide Ch. 03

"You'll have to forgive me," she said. "My primitive upbringing has conditioned me to look for aggression where none exists. I certainly have no desire to offend you."

"It is all right," he said matter-of-factly. "It would be foolish of me to expect much sophistication from you." He pointed at her breasts. "Is it true those are a food source?"

Blushing, she replied, "That is their natural function. But they generally make food if I've given birth, and then only for a while."

He laughed. "No wonder you store so much fat! Is that considered attractive on your planet?"

Steady, she told herself. He's just curious, and insensitive, and bloody ignorant, and -- and he and his friends hold the lives of you and your friends dangling on a string. You've listened to worse horseshit than this. Stay calm.

"Different people on my planet find different things attractive," she eplained calmly. "Large breasts," and she hefted her own, to demonstrate, "are associated with, um, fertility, and other pleasant things." She then put her hands on her hips. "These also make people think of fertility, and for some people, the storing up of fat makes them think of prosperity, and so they do find it attractive."

She took a deep breath. "But there also people who find lots of vigorous physical activity attractive, and they tend to prefer women with lots of lean muscle. And then there are men who prefer tall women, and short women, or there were, until someone blew up their planet, and by the standards of my planet, I may be curvy, but I am NOT FAT!!!"

Suddenly she realized she'd been shouting. She made a conscious effort to moderate her tone before she spoke again.

"Forgive me. Another aspect of my culture, one I won't miss, is that a large amount of my fellow creatures, under the cover of giving helpful advice, worked tirelessly to convince everyone of my gender that there was something wrong with their physical appearance, and that they needed to purchase an assortment of products and services to correct that. It got to where a word like 'fat' -- which is nothing more than a term for a particular type of body tissue -- could make most women, at least where I come from, feel like shit just hearing it, especially if it was referring to them in any way."

"She took another deep breath. "Look, I'm sorry I'm being so...oversensitive. I imagine my appearance is, um, abnormal to you. You won't hurt my feelings in the least if you decline...relations. I wouldn't want you to do anything you found distasteful." She waited hopefully.

"Don't be idiotic," he said cheerfully. "How can I know I won't enjoy it until I try it? Besides, everyone knows females exist to give males sexual satisfaction. To deny you that opportunity would be unconscionable."

This was apparently his species's version of sweet talk. She decided the best thing to do was to get it over with as quickly as possible. "Um, what should I do?" she asked, hoping this would move things along.

"You still seem nervous," he said, chiding. He went over to the wall and pressed it three times. A previously invisible panel opened up, exposing a recess from which he drew a clear tumbler with a pink liquid in it. He brought it over to her. "Drink it," he said. "You will find it relaxing."

She took a sip. It tasted a bit like a strawberry milkshake. It certainly did feel like there was a marked reduction in tension, particularly in her shoulders.

She took a larger swallow, and was surprised and a bit worried to find she'd quaffed the entire glass before she knew it. The tension was draining out of her; so much so, in fact, that she soon found herself collapsed on the floor with absolutely no ability to move a single muscle. She had to admit, her body felt really good all over, and there was no numbness, just a sort of overall thrumming. Still, she couldn't help but worry at what a vulnerable situation she found herself in.

She could hear him clicking his tongue. "What an awkward position," he said, then proceeded to pull at her arms, legs, and at one point her hair, until apparently she was arranged to his satisfaction.

"Now I will position myself for optimal insertion," he informed her, laying on top of her. Since she couldn't move her head, it was hard to tell what was going on down there, but she could feel her pussy reconfiguring itself, presumably to better match her new paramour's equipment. It was difficult to tell for certain, but it felt...smaller. Definitely smaller.

"It is good you have been equipped with the DILDO," he said, sounding satisfied. "Otherwise your sex cavity would be far too gaping and loose. Now it will fit me adequately."

And, just like that, she could feel it being placed inside of her. It felt reeeallly small. But, of course, it fit perfectly, mainly because her cunt had shrunk down so much she felt puckered. And she couldn't feel any movement. Apparently these guys preferred the 'in' part of the old in-out.

Still, there was sensation. It was a weird kind of tingling, she couldn't quite tell if it came from her or from him, but it was increasing. It was pleasant, but more pleasantly itchy than pleasantly soothing. And it felt almost like...current! Yes, a mild, increasing electric shock, that was building into...POW!!

Whoa, that was different. It was kind of like an orgasm, certainly she felt dazed and a bit afterglow-y, but, although it was hard to pinpoint exactly where it fell short, it definitely did. Maybe it was just over all too quickly, but at least it was over. Christ, she hoped she'd regain control of her limbs soon; this was boring, and this obnoxious twit lying on top of her brought nothing to the table; a cat would have been better company, and probably a better lay.

*****

Arthur felt conflicted. He was definitely excited, nervous, anticipatory. But he was also worried, worried what it meant to be looking forward to sex with an alien, one that was obviously another species, not just a girl painted blue or green, like on Star Trek. It also worried him that he and Agnes were so OK with doing this. Not that their relationship necessarily had to be exclusive; for all he knew, monogamy didn't exist outside Earth and it would mark them as hopelessly square, but this seemed like something that required an earnest and open discussion, one where both people expressed their wants, needs and hopes, what was a non-negotiable demand, and what could be compromised.

Circumstances had made that option unworkable for the moment, so he was standing naked in a psychedelically-colored room with a plush, furry, pink, wall-to-wall carpet and twenty or so green silky throw pillows strewn around the floor. What sounded like sitar music could be heard in the background, although he saw no speakers anywhere, let alone instruments.

Arthur felt something complimentary might set a good tone for the encounter, so he came up with, "Interesting room. Did you do all this yourself?"

She chuckled. "It's my dirty little secret. My people, in general, are a race of cretins. It takes us a minute and a half to complete the sex act, five if you count foreplay. What kind of culture do you think we've built off that foundation?"

Arthur shrugged. "I'm afraid I've never gotten the chance to study, um, other cultures."

"Obsessed with instant gratification, with the quick fix, never appreciating the charm of simple leisure, play, aesthetics. GOD, my people bore me."

Arthur was a bit startled to hear the word 'aesthetics' coming from someone whose design sense appeared to issue from 1966, but he supposed it was all relative. Certainly it was best to keep her talking. "So this is where you, um, escape from all that?"

She waved her left hand around. "I do try to make it bearable. I try to have fun, fill the time up."

She went over to the wall, and pulled out of it what looked like a cross between a bassoon and a mandolin, and blew into the top. A haunting, airy sound came out; for some reason, it made Arthur want to cry just a little.

"I play music, and I try to write poetry, and I paint, and I take the newest drugs so it feels like staying in here can last forever, and then it turns out time didn't stop, which is wonderful because it's that much sooner I'll be off this ship, and I read, and watch holovids, and I have a matter replicator that can duplicate the most delicious delicacies from a million worlds, and it would all be bearable if it just weren't so lonely..."

She looked at him, and her face conveyed an angst he wouldn't have believed possible.

He reached out a hand, not sure what kind of gesture she might experience as soothing, only to have her gnash her teeth in frustration.

"I told myself I wouldn't DO this! We Vagines are always moaning about how no one wants to be friends with us and how everyone in the universe is mean to us and it's because that's all we ever talk about, and I wanted to show you I was different. Fat bloody chance..."

There were tears coming out of her eyes. At a loss for a second, Arthur ran to the meager pile of his things in the corner and grabbed his towel. He then gently helped her wipe the tears away, then, unsure what the reaction would be, planted a tender kiss on her lips.

"I've seen that in holovids," she said, surprised. "Humans use that gesture to signal desire to mate!"

Arthur had to suppress an urge to chuckle. "That is one use of it," he agreed. "But it's also a gesture of affection. And it's enjoyable in its own right."

"So you don't want to experience sex with me?" If anything, she sounded sadder than before.

"Maybe that's not what you -- what WE -- should focus on," he said, as gently as he could.

"Then all you feel is pity," she keened, on the verge of sobbing again.

He was getting exasperated. "Will you just listen to me?" Miraculously, she stopped sniffling and did just that.

"All right, look. As weird as this is for me, I find you attractive AND I like you. I think maybe, just maybe, you might enjoy the way we humans do things for a change."

She nodded for him to continue.

"Everything you claim to appreciate, taking your time, doing things just for the sake of doing them. When it comes to sex, my people have a term to describe just that. We call it making love."

She nodded again, this time understanding evident on her face. "So you are generating affection that aids in social cohesion! I can see why a people would find this a useful strategy."

Arthur blinked. Nothing she'd said was incorrect, exactly, but she was missing the point he was driving at.

"Erm, well, yes, it is good for that; lots of our songs are about that, in fact. The general idea is that the world would be a better place if everyone loved everyone else, but...

"But it's not that calculated. Humans express -- or expressed affection to people they already got on well with. Making love wasn't a strategy; two people -- young adults especially -- would be attracted to one another and they'd spend hours with each other just enjoying each other's company. Sometimes you didn't even have sex -- you'd spend your time watching a movie and you'd spend the whole time holding hands and kissing, and sex meant you were risking disease and babies, and people would talk, and obviously it wasn't paradise but if you were lucky, sex was even better when you finally had it, or at least it felt more meaningful, and I'm ranting, aren't I?"

She gave no response. She seemed intrigued by his speech. He decided to wrap it up.

"What I MEAN, damn it, is, we can just spend time together, touch each other, listen to music, kiss, enjoy each other's company, and have a marvelous time, and we can still have sex. Or not, but I don't really care about that, and neither should you, because it just isn't that important."

This time, her smile was dazzling. "So," she said almost disbelievingly, "we would both just...give each other pleasure?"

Arthur hoped this slow comprehension was a peculiarity of this species. "Back and forth. Giving and receiving," he said confidently.

"And you'll tell me what gives you pleasure?" she said, almost shocked.

"You may not believe this, but it's kind of a popular fantasy."

"To give someone explicit instructions?"

Arthur shook his head, smiling. "To teach someone the ways of love..."

*****

Not having a watch, Arthur had no idea how much time had passed. Suffice it to say there wasn't a spare inch of either Arthur's or his new alien friend's body that hadn't been, at some point, kissed, nibbled, sucked, rubbed, oiled, spanked, or tasted (her skin had a pleasantly briny taste, especially on the stomach). She discovered that having her feet massaged was more pleasurable than she could have imagined, and Arthur had a fine time demonstrating just how long an erection could last, (the DILDO certainly helping on that score) and she was quite intrigued by the quantity of pre-cum he was able to dispense, deciding that the taste was inoffensive, but ecstatic about the slipperiness it imparted to her skin. (This is what prompted Arthur to suggest oil rubdowns, and light wrestling.)

She was amazed to find out that, in spite of the immense enjoyment she'd gotten, the sex act had come to seem not superfluous but paramount. She confessed that at one point, she actually fantasized that he lacked an accommodation device and that she had to stretch her cavity to accommodate him, ruining her for anyone in her species. "Just the thought of me walking around stretched out like that, so that everyone can see how you've ruined me. Can you imagine it?"

Arthur could, all too well. It was just as well the act itself was so brief' simply lying still, after getting so worked up, was almost tortuous. But suffice it to say a great amount of Arthur's genetic material was released to the care of his companion when the bio-shock occurred, and, so drained, they both lay together, blissfully silent, for a good thirty minutes afterwards.

*****

"So you actually enjoyed it?" Ford obviously couldn't believe his ears. This was unprecedented.

"She was...nice. I'm sure there's other species that are more compatible, but she was, I don't know, sweet. Appreciative. It ended up better than I would have thought."

They were seated in what their hosts called "the waiting chamber," which, if it hadn't been for the soft, yet sturdy seats protruding out of the wall opposite the door, would have been better termed 'the closet.' At least it was lit, but sitting down was the only way not to feel crowded, which somewhat discouraged stretching one's legs properly.

Arthur looked at Agnes. "Please don't be mad. I'd rather it be you any day of the week. You know that, right?"

She patted his shoulder. "Trust you to get the one halfway decent member of this species. No," she continued, "I'm not upset with you. But one day soon we need to have a talk about just how much...interaction you plan to have on a regular basis. You appear to be more irresistible than Ford's mumbo-jumbo alone can explain."

"Hey!" Ford protested. "It's only mumbo-jumbo if it doesn't work."

Agnes pursed her lips. Soon, her and Ford were going to have their own little talk about ethics. But it was best to wait until their collective survival was a tad more assured.

"Well, she said, "all of our partners got their rocks off, so to speak. So I'm going to allow myself some optimism, for once."

"How much longer d'you think they'll keep us waiting?" Arthur asked Ford.

Ford shrugged. "Beats me. They could just beam us off if they had a mind to, so maybe being here is a good sign."

At that, a red light started flashing over the door, which then started opening. As soon as it was fully open, Ford got up and walked through. The other two followed suit.

All three Vagines were wearing brightly colored robes, with oddly feminine ruffles and a lacy fringe. "Standard ceremonial garb," muttered Ford. Both humans were surprised, having assumed up until now that nudity was the norm for Vagines.

The center one, with the green robe, whom they all now recognized as the male, unfurled a large scroll, which he presumably read off of. "This is a notice of Commendation to unauthorized passengers 10253, 10254, and 10255, on Vagine vessel 255746, for perfectly adequate performance of simulated mating rituals..."

Both humans were startled to see Ford suddenly turn white. "This isn't good, guys," he muttered...

WHY is being graded "perfectly adequate' a bad sign. Is Ford just a perfectionist? Is Ford's mind-whammy going to wear off any time soon? Will it mean fewer BJs for Arthur? And lastly, WHEN will any of the other characters make an appearance? Will this story start to get funny?

To be continued...