Thursday, November 30, 2017

Sci-fi Fetish Come to Life - Part One

Open Season Novella  
Unidentified Fetish Object:  
Part One

...The passion in Kyle’s eyes, the fire of it in his gaze, gives Juli a thrill even as he stands frozen in front of her. Sliding her hand past his shoulder, her wrist touches his skin. Flesh to flesh, she looks at the contrast between them. The way hers, a swirl of colors like an oil slick, looks against his. The feel of her skin, thicker but smoother, against his more delicate flesh, covered in hair—some thick and coarse, others barely there like fine down—and bumps and scars.

While he likes to trace the color patterns of her skin, painting her with his fingers, learning the art of her, she likes to read his past in every mark on his body. The scar he has on his left thigh from climbing a tree as a child. The echo of a dog bite he has near his right thumb, from an ex-girlfriend’s untrained pet. Even the way his skin sometimes flares in harsh, red rashes when he’s overly stressed along the steady shelf of his shoulders and down the long spine of his back. His body is a story she never wants to finish.

Running both wrists over his shoulders, she lingers over their strength. She touches his arms, feeling the muscles there flex. Smirking, she teases her fingertips over his shoulder blades, feeling him arch away from their sting and into her. She torments him, up and down his back, over his sides and hips, and along the curve of his ass. She loves the way he wriggles and writhes under her attention, his squirming body swaying to her songless rhythm.

He gives a grumbling chuckle and swiftly grabs the loose hem of her shirt dress, pulling it over her head to trap her arms like soft, gray manacles. “That’s enough from you, miss.”

She giggles as he backs her up against the bed frame, making her fall onto the mattress. She lands on her back, her legs wrapped around his waist. Pulling him close, she revels in his hardness against her heat. She lays her bound wrists above her head, making her back arch and her breasts thrust up.

She sees him inhale deeply and his gaze glaze over with desire. In sweet anticipation, she stretches. Until she notices his hands clenched in front of him. Waiting.

Her pointedly swiveling hips make his eyes widen. “Don’t forget the condom.”

His eyes light up. “You sure?” His eyes search hers.

She nods to the bedside table. “Uh-huh.”

When he reaches into the drawer, she feels her nipples tighten and her pussy clench in anticipation. Watching him roll on his condom feels rebelliously sexy. There aren’t many Pixisos here. After The Great Migration, Pixiso refugees spread all over the planet, living wherever would welcome them in pockets all over the world. Little Pixis, where Juli’s parents still live, only has twenty-odd families living there. And, after thirty years of living here, some of the original immigrants’ health are starting to fail. Her people need new blood. And, while mixed relationships are frowned upon, children are needed for their species to survive.

But she and Kyle both decided that, while they want children someday, they’re not ready yet, no matter what her parents or community might say about it. And, since the human medical community can’t or won’t make birth control for Pixisos, especially against the wishes of the Pixiso elders, condoms are their best option.

The sight of latex covering his cock probably shouldn’t make her hot—from what she could tell, it certainly doesn’t do so for human women—but it does. It makes her feel transgressive, having sex—being a sexual being—for the sole sake of pleasure instead of strictly procreation.

She moans, wanting to feel his dick slide deep inside her. But, with her pants still on, she can’t. She squirms. Tries to use her weight, her struggle, the friction against the sheets, to force the offending clothes off.

Smelling herself in the air, she inhales the rich, warm scent blooming between them, stronger than any soap or perfume as desire stirs it. Juli lets it intoxicate her. Lets it fill the room, the moment, her.

He laughs, the sound gruff and a little breathless. Reaching down to stroke the delicate shell of her pointed ears, he makes her shiver into his touch. “Do you want me?”

Oh God. Her body twisting into his touch, she bites her lip and nods.

“How much?”

So much, it feels like need.

“Tell me...”



Read Part Two Here

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