Alien Impulses

"Want to bust out of here?" I asked, once more helping to wipe sticky, warm semen from her pussy lips. I had finished our second fuck with a lovely orgasm, very deep inside her, while she achieved perhaps her fortieth climax of that session. She seemed tired but completely satisfied.

"Why, are the surroundings not luxurious enough for you?" she asked, walking to the bathroom.

"No, well, I thought we might go out for dinner." Hal had made reservations once more, and I was getting hungry.

She emerged from the bathroom looking a little refreshed, wearing a bathrobe and with her tousled hair straightened. It was the first time I'd seen her in clothes since first ripping off her panties, virtually as soon as we had gotten into the room. "Sure. But first, sit down with me. I want to ask you something."

We sat on the edge of the bed together. "Ask anything you want", I said boldly, hoping that it wasn't the one about how long I'd spent with the aliens. I realised, fairly quickly, that I didn't have an especially compelling cover story. There were a large number of really unusual things about me, that was indisputable, and I was very aware of my inability to explain most of them. I focussed, ready to make up the most convincing sequence of lies I could manufacture.

"Who the hell are you?" Unusual start.

"You know who I am, babe", I answered, slightly amused.

"Well, kind of, yes. You're a guy I met in a pub in Wales."

"Exactly. Ordinary guy in a pub." Somehow I hoped that might be the end of it. Not quite.

"Only you're not exactly ordinary, are you?" She was looking intently at me, as if she expected some great truth to come out. I felt immediately on edge.

"How do you mean? I'm just a regular guy -- arms, legs, the usual things." She seemed far from satisfied.

"Oh yeah, sure, a regular guy who's in the middle of buying a disused airfield for millions of pounds, flying spaceplanes into orbit... who designed the spaceplane, by the way? Whose idea was all that?"

I was getting into trouble and needed to talk fast. There were several options. I could spill the whole vat of beans right now, tell her the story from beginning to end, and pretty much guarantee both that I'd never see her again and that she'd call the police at the first opportunity and tell them there was a madman in the penthouse suite.

I could tell her I was part of a team. Then I'd have to introduce her to the team, and that would be another lie that would have to become true. Besides, how does a guy who she knew only as a tech support part-timer ever get involved in something as complex as this? Should I ever have mentioned anything about it? Couldn't I have come up with a cover story, that I was a stock broker or a fucking tea merchant, anything even slightly more conventional than 'rocket scientist with intentions to change the world'? Why had I told her, straight off the bat? Was I trying to impress her. Well, it worked. And now I was in a heap of trouble.

"I have a supercomputer in my living room." It sounded totally idiotic. "Some friends of mine from University designed it, just slaved together loads of RAM modules like the guys at Google did when they started up. They were going for some kind of record, 'the most powerful University-based computer in the UK' or something. They did it, and attached a whole string of processors, but they found the damn thing produced far too much heat so they stopped work on it."

She was looking at me as though I was trying to explain why sleeping with another girl was OK, that it didn't matter and that I still loved her. Obviously not working.

"I met a guy last year at a techie conference who was an expert on high-speed fans and heat sinks, so I asked him to take a look at it. The University had disowned the thing and it was sitting on its ass in a storage room. I thought that was a shame and we fixed it up together and brought it home. He actually used it for part of his PhD research."

Getting better. The technical stuff was going over well. Getting help to build it was certainly a good part of the ruse. I just needed the clincher.

"I figured out how to program it, not difficult really, just based on an advanced version of LINUX, and I plugged in some software. Thing is, with that kind of processing power, the thing is virtually a form of Artificial Intelligence in its own right. Give it examples of things, and it can copy them. Quite incredible, really."

Her hard gaze had softened. "And why didn't you tell me about this earlier?"

I smiled shyly. "Gemma, I already knew I sounded like a complete geek -- spaceplanes and orbital solar power and all of that -- and I figured if I gave you any more of that stuff, you'd just think I was some kind of crazy inventor or rocket scientist and you wouldn't be interested any more. I mean, there's only so much geek a girl can take, surely."

She was coming around, steadily. "So your supercomputer, just sitting there in your living room, designed a spaceplane."

"Yeah", I said simply. "I gave him examples of other ships with the same job, and plugged in all of the environmental variables -- friction, distances, heat and so forth -- and Hal did the rest."

She started to smile, slightly. "Your computer is named Hal?"

It was catching. I grinned, "yeah, that's right. Do you want to talk to him?"

She stared at me. I was pretty sure I was in the clear. "How would I do that?"

"Phone him up", I said, passing her my communicator. "He's on speed dial one." This was the biggest gamble I could possibly have taken, but I knew Hal would be discreet. Or, I fucking well hoped he would. She pressed the button and I put the phone on hands-free so we could both here.

"Hal here." His voice was a little metallic through the speaker, but almost disarmingly human.

"Hal, this is Gemma. I'm a friend of your... boss?" she looked at me for confirmation. "We're here in London together and he's just told me about you."

Hal paused for a microsecond before answering with a real cheer in his voice. "Delighted to make your acquaintance, Gemma. My name is Hal, and I am a supercomputer designed to assist in the Project which I'm sure you know something about."

She looked at me, smiled. "Yes, I know about it. I think its fantastic."

"Well, I'm pleased that you think so", Hal answered happily. "Will you be visiting us here?"

"Well, actually Hal, I already have, but I'd love to come again", she said, flashing her eyebrows at me in a comical, exaggerated fashion. She was loving this, I noted with a massive welling of relief. "Perhaps next week, after I've seen my advisor and got some work done, if ever your boss will let me do any."

Hal responded quickly. "If there is anything I can do to help, please don't hesitate to ask." Gemma thought about this, looked at me with a thoughtful expression.

"Actually, Hal, there is. I've been needing some serious processing power to work through some climate models. If I gave your boss a disc, could you complete the models for me?"

"It would be a pleasure. I look forward to serving you."

We exchanged good-byes and Gemma clicked the line off. "I think I owe you an apology. He's absolutely charming. Where did he learn to communicate?"

I thought quickly, lied quickly, regretted every untruth I ever told her but knew they were completely necessary if we were going to stay together. "You know that software Microsoft use to recognise speech, so that you can speak directly into Word?" She nodded. "It is a cleverly reverse-engineered version of that. The modified code is actually open source, so you can plug in accents and slang. You should hear him!" She smiled, clearly impressed by all of this and, equally importantly, buying it. "Another of my friends at college was a linguist with a specialty in computer-applied language packages, for learning purposes and for helping the blind and dumb." She warmed to this idea. God, I was good. "He let me have his software, I patched it together with the Microsoft code, and bingo. He's learned quickly since I turned him on."

She sat there on the edge of the bed, taking this all in. "And, there's one more thing I need to know." I nodded, slightly gravely. What else could there be? Wasn't all the space stuff by far the weirdest thing about me? "Are you on steroids, or something?"

I stared at her, genuinely failing to comprehend. "Steroids? Gemma, why on Earth would you think..."

She took my hand and led me to the large mirror in the corner of the suite. "That's why I think, idiot..." she chuckled. I looked at myself. Facially, I didn't think I was too bad for a chap in his late twenties who had been through all the shit I'd just experienced. But bodily, well... I could have been on the cover of Men's Health. My six-pack abs were defined and taught. My pecs practically rippled with muscular potential and my legs were those of a sprinter.

"Yeah, I worked out a lot. Still do", I said with a cheeky smile, looking her up and down.

"Work out?" she asked, hands on hips. "Sure you do. But nothing really explains that, now does it?" she said, motioning to my penis, which hung relaxed.

"Explains it?"

Had she been wearing glasses, she would now be looking over their rims. "Honey, you have a ten-inch penis and you can fuck three times in an hour." I grinned happily.

"What the hell's wrong with that?"

"Oh, nothing, absolutely nothing", she giggled. "I just didn't know that was possible." Whatever suspicions she may have had were just about melted.

I put my arms round her, kissed her forehead and steered her backwards towards the bed. "Well, you've just been dating the wrong guys, haven't you?"

We ate dinner in another of London's most exclusive places. Different wines were served with each course and we partook enthusiastically. By the time port was served with the final course, a cheese plate, Gemma was really rather tipsy.

"How come you never get drunk"? she asked, slurring things just slightly.

"Iron constitution, I guess", I answered, taking another large swig from my glass.

"I think I'd had a couple too many". Inevitably, within moments Gemma stood and headed to the bathroom. She was slightly unsteady, I thought, and clearly thought that wasn't cool. Particularly in a place as trendy as this. I wondered if I still had... I slid a hand into my jacket pocket and found my 'bag of tricks' as I called it. This was a collection of medicines Hal had put together from his massive hard-disc inventory. Forager had knocked them out in no time. I opened the tortoise-shell box, about the size of a cigarette case, and brought out one of the purple pills.

I dropped the pill into her water glass and it vanished in seconds, leaving a green cloud in the water which, in turn, disappeared a moment later. Then I turned back to my crème caramel and polished off the port. Gemma returned and I encouraged her to drink plenty of water so she wouldn't be hungover. She drained the glass just as we were leaving to return to our limo for the trip back to the hotel.

Back in our suite and feeling fabulous, Gemma kicked off her shoes, lay back on the bed in her brand new, deliciously tight-fitting green dress, and said, "I think today ranks as about the best day I ever spent with anyone."

"That's a nice thing to say", I offered, pulling off my own shoes and loosening my black bow tie. The tailors had been terrific and I made a note to go back there and seriously splash out.

"You know what would make it even better?" she asked. As I turned to answer, she was grinning and pulling up her dress to expose lacy, French knickers. "I got them today. For you." She lay back, parted her legs and invited me to explore her.

The fabric felt wonderfully expensive against my tongue as I licked the already-scented cloth which hid her pussy. It was moist from both sides now, as her juices were actively seeping from her opening. I pulled them aside to see her cunt, with its lovely, fleshy outer lips and soft, dark curls. Pulling them off, I spent long moments licking her, tasting her, probing inside her. She squirmed on the bed while my tongue worked its magic.

We pulled off the remained of our clothes and entwined, naked. "I came forty times this afternoon", she reminded me. "Time for you to lay back and let me please you." She licked gently from my mouth, down my neck and pecs, across my solid abdomen and down to my fully-erect cock which she quickly placed inside her mouth and began to suck. I lay back, enjoying the softness of the bed, the sheer luxury of the room, and the warmth of her tongue on my shaft.

"You're going to get drenched again", I warned with a cheeky smile.

"I know, and I want it. Don't worry. Give me everything." I needed no encouragement. As she sucked and stroked my cock I began a gentle thrusting into her mouth. The love she was lavishing on my most private place was just heavenly. I knew she would keep going until I came, that she welcomed my orgasm and the river of sperm. This girl loved me, I knew, as my climax approached. Gemma kept up a steady rhythm, letting my pleasure build, until the huge volume of cum waiting inside me found its release.

She had my tip between her lips as the first spurts arrived, and so took these into her mouth, but didn't swallow, letting the liquid dribble back onto my cock and balls. More spurts came, coating her face, splashing up onto her forehead and nose. She kept up her stroking and I kept coming, jetting sperm into her fringe, over her shoulder and onto her back, and then as she moved to change the angle, onto her beautiful, milky-white breasts. I emptied my last few jolts over them, entirely spent now, balls aching with the effort and pleasure they had experienced.

She was covered, and the taste must have been strong, but she took my flagging cock back into her mouth and allowed it to relax there, soaking in her warmth as I enjoyed the afterglow of such a tremendous orgasm. Once he was back to sleep, she grinned at me through the splashes of semen all over her face, and I took her into the shower and washed her down. I made sure to please her pussy, fingering her and giving her a quick licking, which made her cum, to thank her for one of my best ever blowjobs. We kissed for what felt like hours, and then as our skin began to wrinkle, dried each other, curled up in bed side by side and slept happily, satisfied.

The vibrating of the phone on my bedside table woke me at 8.40am. Didn't Hal have any sense of what Sunday mornings well about these days? Sleep, sex and a lazy brunch were all I had in mind, but there he was, chirpy and full of beans before I'd even properly opened my eyes.

"Morning, Hal. What's new?"

"Good morning. I have had more communications with the Ministry of Defence regarding Sculthorpe. I have a dossier of data I want to send you. May I proceed?"

"Go for your life, Hal". The data began streaming as we continued talking. "How's everything going?"

"We made over £300,000 during the time you've been away, partly on some very successful share dealings, and the rest on the Olympics. I flatter myself that I have achieved a 96% success rate during our gambling enterprises."

I rubbed my eyes, thought about this. "Hal, there's absolutely no chance that some computer in one of the big bookmaking firms is noticing that the same individual keeps winnings, day after day? I mean, we're taking millions from these people."

There was a pause. I could have sworn I heard a disappointed 'tut' on the line. "Is it your current impression that you are speaking with a toaster oven?"

"Huh?"

"Am I an electric kettle or a car stereo or a fancy watch which glows in the dark?"

"Hal, you've lost me."

"I have more processing power than NASA. Several times more. I could run Britain with one motherboard tied behind my back, if you'll permit the metaphor. You don't think I can safely place a few bets?"

"Sorry Hal, its just its so much mo..."

"You have eighteen aliases. Eighteen. Count them. Each has a National Insurance number, a driver's license, a birth certificate, several library and video club cards, a number of bank accounts, share holdings, property, vehicles, timeshares in the south of Spain... are you catching my drift?"

I was somewhere between enormously amused, hugely impressed and terribly sorry. The machine, and at times like this it was important to remember that Hal was essentially a machine, was piqued. He was offended. I had hurt his feelings.

"I truly apologise for underestimating you, Hal. You've got more of a handle on this than I could ever even guess at. Well done."

There was a brief, arms-folded-across-the-chest 'harrumph' from Hal, and we were able to get back to business. The airfield data had come through and the place did indeed seem enormous. There was a massive main runway which ran from West to East along the southern edge of the site. Right next to it, I noted with a smile, was a motocross circuit. The hangers were almost entirely intact, and that might save some time, but most of them were on the north side, which was where the 1940s accommodation blocks had been rebuilt into a small village. It was important not only to stay away from prying eyes, but to keep the local people safe from anything unfortunate that might happen. Still, the runway was perfect.

Beside me, Gemma was stirring. "Look, Hal, I can't talk now. I'll be home later today and we'll sort it all out. See about getting me a route to drive over to Norfolk tomorrow. And work up a plan for converting those hanger buildings and constructing our own, so we can give the Ministry something nice and flashy to look at."

Hal accepted the tasks and clicked off. "Morning, my prince", whispered Gemma. She was in that wonderfully warm, sleepy morning state where her skin seemed at its softest and she was far too sleep to resist some strong, young man climbing on top of her and sliding his tongue into her mouth. Her labia moistened instantly, I noted, slipping two fingers inside her. "I can't imagine a nicer way to start a Sunday", she breathed into my ear, letting me finger her while we kissed. "And I've never had so much sex..." she paused, let herself come, "in my whole life as I've had this weekend."

"Just getting warmed up, baby", I quipped, working on her clit with my thumb.

"If this is foreplay", she said, kissing me constantly, "I have to tell you I'm already soaking wet", more kisses, "and it would be just fine if you put that big, strong cock of yours inside me". I wasted no time and slid gently up into her cunt with a single thrust.

We made love for most of the morning. Her orgasms were intense today, given the increased sensitivity of her clit and nipples after so much action during the past few days. She took one mighty load of sperm into her body, deep in her pussy, another into her bum while she lay back with her legs over my shoulders, and a third over her tummy and breasts.

"OK", I breathed, laying back heavily after my third orgasm. "Yeah, I think its time."

"Time for what?", she wanted to know, drawing patterns with my semen on her belly.

"Time to start fucking you in earnest. I'm finished getting warmed up." She gasped in mock horror and battered me with one of the amazingly soft pillows.

"Well I, for one, need a break and a shower. You", she kissed my forehead, "are ridiculous." I let her shower, have some time alone, while I relaxed in the bed and let my thoughts crystallise. I often have this internal dialogues, sometimes in the manner of the angel on one shoulder and the devil on the other.

"What exactly is going on here, anyway?"

"What's the problem? I've met someone very cool and we're having a great time."

"True", conceded the angel. "But I thought we were planning to get the collective ass back to Takanli and marry Falik?"