Satisfying sexual urges everywhere else in the universe is not as influenced by social norms as on Earth, where it is also still used for reproduction.
He is a dark skinned writer. His thoughts are sharp as razors that cut through my veins and want to let this hot blood into his body for at least a few minutes. Metaphorically speaking.
I separate him from the one he loves. By teleportation. I learned that in the M100 galaxy, though I did not even think that I might need it for something like this. The method seems to be bloody easy and unfairly attained versus the (non)ability of the one I attracted by it to the oasis of my deepest desires – an Earthling.
My first sex with an intergalactic being.
He kisses me in the neck while my body sensors spread the sounds of the song You Look So Fine by Garbage across the room. The white walls are covered with pink-violet yogurt-animations, because this is precisely how my writer makes me feel right now- pinkish and snugly, like being under the influence of drugs that we take almost daily on Andromeda and in the massive pleasure studios in other galaxies. You’re taking me over … it’s so insane…
Do you know how the sensor animation happens? The most beautiful feelings of the past, blended with a fraction of the character that we love most about ourselves, create reactions when in contact with the most sensual senses produced by a new being in our life. The organism produces it through visual displays that appear in the range of three to five meters around our body, or through music that, according to our interpretation, describes the event we are in and which, by chance, is always agreeing with all who are in our vicinity. Such subtle perfections are coded in every being as it begins to exist, but we do not comprehend their true beauty until we experience them. Animation and music today are, for the first time, simultaneous to me, clarifying the definition implanted by castor-mnemonics during childhood: Animation Plus Music – A Superb Adventure!
He knows that he looks good and that in my eyes he represents a symbol of beauty. I know that I’m something unusual for him, completely different from all before me. I’m not like all the other girls … I will not fake it like the other girls that you used to know … Androide and man. Man and an androide.
Let me describe it for you. He smells gently as a rose, and looks fresh like a water lily. His clothes are freshly ironed by her hands, sending off the scent of washing powder and softeners. It seems like he was just given to me as a present, new and fascinated. He smiles with a refined Mona Lisa smile with just a touch of healthy diabolism. I guess he is seducing this freely for the first time. He feels like a king whom this short-lived rule at the same time makes both democrat and anarchist, tyrant and liberal. Such an extraordinary flawless seduction can only be a product by his sharp mind. I’m like the desert tonight … if you want to show me…
He wants me. Yes, and I like it very much. Although we are alone for the first time, we seem as to have always been in a kind of contact, as if for thousands of years and a multitude of incarnations, we wanted to reach for one another.
We’re in a public place. We can hear the murmur of other people from the nearby rooms.
– I hope they will not bother us. They may feel in the air that it wouldn’t be wise – he says with the above-described smile that simply melts me.
He closes the door.
I return a smile acting all innocent, but flames of passion burst witin me. My desire is to merge with him until I dispose of every living thing in my being. I’m falling over, over and over…
He doesn’t notice animation and music. It is as if he knew they would appear at these moments. The only thing he is focused on right now is trying to figure out what’s going on in my head. He reads me pretty good, I must admit. And he is playing it just as I like, knowingly and slowly approaching the goal.
“I have a pistachio somewhere in my pocket,” he says, leisurely, without taking his eyes off me.
He goes back to the black jacket that he left on a chair. He comes to me and leans his behind on the table.
“Try it,” he puts a pistachio slowly in my mouth, he himself chewing one.
I take this green snack. I do not know how to resist him anymore, so I start to caress his face. I come closer with my lips and take a kiss. Readily and boldly, with those hands that have passed hundreds and hundreds of pages of books, those fingers that have written thousands of words, he strokes my hair, and clearly indulges in our tongues intertwining.
First kiss with an Earthling. Magnificent. So soft and supple, so quivering and … salty.
– Tell me everything you want and this body will obey – he gives me a dignified sign as I descend down and squat. I pull off his pants saying:
“No, my king, tell me what you want these thirsty lips to do and it will be done.
He shakes his head backwards. He breathes heavily, sincerely masculine, and my lips make the game. His gaze searching for me in every instant, he cracks a diabolical smile, it is now reaching its maximum percentage; filling every corner of this closed but unlocked room.
– Stop it. Tell me how many times will we have to look for each other to annul this enormous energy between us? I do not know how it came to this, but it’s fantastic.
I take away all my clothes, turn my back to him and say:
– I do not know either. But please, my wonderful human, try to extinguish this energy.
I’m open wide … we’ll waste some time … you’re taking me over, over and over…
I like that Earthlings consider androids and other intergalactic beings unusual in terms of sex. They think that our unusualness is able to satisfy all their hidden desires that they would never confess to another Earthling. But we are unusual in the patterns of life that take place in space and conditions that are different from those on Earth. Yet, we feel similarly. You will not believe it, we have sex in the identical fashion. It’s all about the imagination of an individual or, how an Earthling from the East once wrote – There are no good and bad people, there are only good and bad combinations. The poet and I are a good combination of the universe.
After a few semitone sighs in the chair at my work desk, I remove the black headset and wired gloves from my arm. The virtual world has been exploiting my imagination for days (or my imagination exploits it?) by processing it into meta-reality. Another aspect of human development, or according to Plato, one of the actualization of the ideas of a human soul?
Now, It’s time to take a shower.