Her enthusiasm fueled his. He hunched his back. His battering ram slipped up the trough formed by her tightly clenched thighs and wedged the head against her clit, pinching the lips and threatening to turn the ‘outy’ into an ‘inny’.
For a handful of moments it seemed his own wits had deserted him. He curled his hips several times and pushed as if he could bore past her clenched thighs and find the gates of Heaven located somewhere along the center of her cleft and tightly defended by clenched thighs.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t too far gone to figure out he was miles off course within a handful of hunching motions.
Breaking the kiss, he shifted downward, covering one entire breast with his mouth and sucking on it hard enough to cave her head in as he grabbed one thigh and lifted.
She resisted—for all the good it did.
He curled over her again and this time when he curled his hips, the battering ram found the door and shoved it open.
Because she was wet enough to float a boat for some reason that was beyond her reasoning abilities at that time.
It felt like he was trying to impale her on a fence post, but she was too distressed over ‘other things’ to worry about the fit at that moment.
He’d wedged the head in the doorway, alright, but he shoved all the loose skin around her coochie indoors with it. She felt the tug all the way to her knees when he pushed again.
“Wait!” she gasped, thinking there might actually be enough room to fit the thing in if she could just ‘clear the doorway’.
Thankfully, he stopped pushing, pulled slightly away even as she reached between them and used her fingers to spread herself for him.
The next heave seated the head of his cock firmly inside and Elly felt a moment of uneasiness about the fit.
Because she didn’t have more than a moment to think at all.
He was on a mission, however. He’d breached the gates and he expressed the clear intention of mounting her on his battering ram like the leering skull of a steer on a desert fence post.
Gripping her tightly enough she heard several bones pop, he rammed home, nearly shoving her womb under her left lung. She grunted as the air was punched out of her lungs, but he didn’t seem to be aware of much besides the rhythm he was trying to set.
And after a handful of strokes, she wasn’t aware of anything else, either. The alignment efforts had briefly distracted her, but she was smoking after the kisses to lips and breast and his cock sawing back and forth along her channel created a delicious friction that sent her up in flames. In a matter of moments she felt her body winding up for the jump. The tension gathered and gathered until she could barely catch her breath and then her soul shattered into fiery, tingling fragments. Rapture filled the void it left behind, expanded until it so fully engulfed her that she became the soul possessor of time-space in that one minute corner of the universe.
Her partner’s explosive climax brought her back to reality—a state she was in no hurry for—but intrude it did.
She didn’t know his name.
She didn’t even know his species.
Clearly he was intelligent …? He’d spoken English, broken granted but understandable enough to display intelligence, not only in his grasp of an alien language, but logical thought processes.
Not that it mattered whether he was actually intelligent or not. He had enough intelligence and social understanding to consider her relevance.
She was alive.
He hadn’t harmed her or allowed any of the others to harm her.
So far.
The real question, she thought uneasily as he lifted himself away from her with obvious effort, was how impressed was he with his experience?
He studied her face searchingly for a long moment and then gathered himself and moved from the cot.
She didn’t know whether to be insulted or relieved when he crossed the small cell to a small fountain she hadn’t noticed in the corner, cupped his hand to capture a palm full of water, and began scrubbing the water over himself.
Because she couldn’t decide if it denoted a fastidious nature in general or he was trying to remove her scent from himself.
He didn’t focus on his genitals, though, and she decided it was just a need to wash the sweat of his labors—on field and off—from himself.
Which, to her mind, meant he wasn’t a total savage.
