Alienated

"Just a few more minutes and maybe I can get there," Kat muttered to herself. But tonight would be like the previous two nights. She had Bert flat on his back on the Fort Stockton, Texas, motel bed, and she was riding his cock as he just lay there. Light filtering in through the inadequate curtains from the headlights of passing cars sent the silhouette of her rotating body swirling around the bare walls of the room. But just like the previous night and the night before that, Bert came in three jerks and a satisfied little "Ooof." He pushed her off of him and spooned her into his body in a possessive bear hug, told her he'd been "oh so" good to her, and promptly went into a snoring sleep with his hand on one of her tits.

She'd picked Bert up in Kerrville because he'd come on to her when she stopped in a diner there on her way from San Antonio to what she hoped was a new life in Santa Fe, New Mexico. She supposed that most women couldn't have been seduced by raunchy talk about how big her hips and butt and tits were, but Kat took what compliments she could where she could find them—it wasn't often that these attributes were cited as come-ons. And Bert hadn't lied to her about how big his cock was. She certainly hadn't rejected the idea of hot nights in the sack while she was traveling up highway 285, and, as an added benefit, Bert looked like he might help keep her barely chugging Malibu together until she could get to Santa Fe.

Just her luck, Kat thought, as she lay there in the dark in the Fort Stockton motel, listening to Bert snoring, watching the lights from passing cars play across the walls and ceiling of the room, rubbing her clit to her own half-satisfied conclusion, and feeling very sorry for herself. This was the way her life was going—nothing going right and no full satisfaction. She didn't even know why she was going to Santa Fe. No one expected her there, and she had only half-baked ideas of what she would do there—or why she even was headed there. But then there had been no one to see her off in San Antonio, either. No one to regret her absence or to weep at her departure.

One thing she knew as she laid there, still tense, still wanting something Bert hadn't given her. Bert would be history as soon as she could be rid of him. Having a big cock did her no good if he wasn't interested in giving her satisfaction with it.

By the next afternoon they'd reached just south of Carlsbad, New Mexico, and the Malibu needed gas. The Malibu needed much more help than gas, but that's all Kat was going to give it until it actually broke down. She planned on ditching it as soon as she got to Santa Fe and buying herself a nice little Miata convertible. She'd put entirely too much money into the old Malibu already.

She pulled off 285 at a filling station with a convenience store. As she rolled up to the pumps, a Greyhound bus pulled over to the side of the store and several people got off and went into the store. She handed Bert a credit card and asked him to pump the gas while she went in and bought some cold Cokes for the dry run up the road. She hoped to make it to Artesia before dark. Bert grumbled at her, but she ignored him. They'd been borderline fighting all the way up from Fort Stockton, and she was just about at her breaking point. It mattered not that he was too. If he couldn't pump her right, he could at least pump gas in the car for her.

As she was coming to the register with the Cokes, two of young women who'd come off the bus were there. While one was putting her purchases down on the counter and waiting for the cashier to get off the phone with her boyfriend, the other one was picking a tabloid magazine off the rack in front of the counter.

"Oh, look at this, Massie. This story's about Roswell, just up the road from here."

"Roswell," the other one said. "Ain't that the place famous for the space ship sightings fifty years ago?"

"Yeah, and this article goes along with that. Look here. The headline says 'Escaped from Alien Breeding.' Some woman claimed she was abducted and raped by an alien outside Roswell and that she was carrying its baby. She got an abortion, though."

"Of course she got rid of it before anyone could check her story out. No limit to what they will put in these rags, is there?" Massie said with a giggle. "Just a load of crap."

"Yeah, right," the other young woman agreed. But her laugh wasn't quite as genuine, and when she put the tabloid down, she put it on the counter to buy, not back in the rack.

The cashier got another call while Kat was checking out—and, of course, gave that call priority—so it was a few minutes before Kat got out of the store. The Greyhound bus was gone—or at least chugging up the road toward Roswell.

And Bert was gone too. The gas nozzle was still hanging out of the Malibu's tank—having finished filling the car—and when Kat looked into the backseat, she saw that Bert's duffel bag was gone as well. Kat set her gaze on the back of the disappearing bus and thought, "Good riddance." But then it hit her that Bert and his duffel weren't the only things gone. Her credit card was gone too. So what she actually said out loud was "Oh, Shit. Fuckin' bastard." And then she turned and trudged back into the convenience store in search of a telephone so she could cancel her card.

"Not only isn't this my day," she muttered. "This isn't even my life."

Worse, the Malibu choked up and died just short of Artesia when she was stopping at a diner next to a service station for dinner. The only saving grace was that the service station was there and still open and the mechanic owner was still on duty.

When the Malibu died, she got out of it and gave it a good kick. Then she practically melted in embarrassment, because not thirty feet from her, leaning up against a new, gleaming Lincoln Town Car, was the hunkiest man she'd ever seen. Dark, curly hair, a well-worked build of someone who could model clothes for Abercrombie & Fitch, and a handsome face—wearing a little smile at the moment. At her expense, probably.

"Having car trouble?" he asked. The smile remained on his face and looked more friendly and sympathetic now that she thought about it.

"Yes. If I had a gun, I'd shoot it," Kat answered. "Just my luck. I was going to ditch it, but not before it got me to Santa Fe."

"Got folks in Santa Fe?" he asked.

"Not in Santa Fe or anywhere else," Kat answered in an exasperated voice, and then she just sort of collapsed against the fender of her car. "Oh, shit," she said.

"That about covers it, I'd say," the hunky stranger said. But the smile and voice were still sympathetic. "Why don't you try the service station? I think it's still open."

"Thanks," Kat answered. But she didn't move.

"And I'd be happy to stay around until you find out what can be done and to give you a lift if the car can't be saved. I'm on my way to Santa Fe too. Delivering this car to some rich guy up there."

Kat's day was suddenly looking up. A ride into Santa Fe in a luxury car with a luxury hunk. What could be better than that?

The service station owner looked the Malibu over and said he could fix it, given time and delivery of parts, but if she wanted to just junk it, he'd pay her $250 for it.

Kat had already made up her mind, but she was on a roll in the late afternoon, so she countered with, "It's more than half full of gas."

"OK," the station owner said, with a little laugh. "Let's say $260 then."

Another hour and Kat was luxuriating in the leather seat of the Town Car and gliding up the road in the gathering gloom. There had been one moment when Cliff seemed to flash a bit of pique—when Kat set her suitcase down by the trunk of the Town Car—but he recovered quickly and said that they weren't to use the trunk and she could put her case in the backseat with his. After this, though, Cliff was as charming and easy to talk to as he could be. And he threw in a little flirting that got Kat's juices going, although she was sure that he was just being polite.

But maybe not.

Cliff suggested they stop at the lone motel in Hagerman, saying that the annual Pecos Valley Horse Show very likely would have all of the accommodations booked in Roswell, and that it was getting late anyway.

"You're just about in luck," the motel clerk said. "We just have one room left. But the way it's going, that might not be available in ten more minutes."

"Umm, we really would need two rooms," Cliff was saying.

"We'll take it," Kat interjected.

"Well, OK, I guess one room is better than none," Cliff said, with an engaging smile. "But I'll sleep out in the Town Car."

"I wouldn't hear of it. We'll share the room," Kat said. But then she blushed and stammered. "I . . . I . . . mean I'm sure we can make some arrangements. I'm sure even the floor would be more comfortable for you than the backseat of the Lincoln."

Cliff smiled a little enigmatic smile at her. It was a smile that Kat thought could earn him a couple of million dollars in the movies—and that would work on any woman he used it on, if that's what he wanted. It certainly worked with her.

After bringing their suitcases into the motel room, Cliff went back to the car. Kat caught a glimpse of him back at the trunk of the car, and she thought he was unlatching it, but then she thought this wasn't any of her business—that she was probably unfulfilled partially because she didn't just accept what came her way. Cliff was all smiles when he returned and wondering if they would be able to find any decent wine in this town.

A diner was attached to the motel, and Kat was amazed that they actually found two bottles of wine to serve, which just about covered the taste of the burnt dinner. Throughout Cliff was as charming and attentive to Kat as ever. As they were leaving the diner, Kat drew back and emitted an "Ugh," when she saw a cockroach scurry across the floor and stop at her feet. She lifted a shoe to see if she could crush it.

"No, don't do that," Cliff suddenly blurted out at her elbow. "Just one of God's creatures."

And then she looked on with surprise, as Cliff leaned down and tapped on the floor between the cockroach and the open diner entrance and then again, closer to the entrance, and the cockroach followed the sound of his tapping and scurried out the door.

Kat had never known anyone like this. Not only a melting hunk, but he cared for life—all life—that much. He was just too good to be true, but she was done with questioning and doubting. She knew she'd open her legs to him at the bare mention of interest.

When they returned to the room and, only turning on a dim light near the door, Cliff took Kat in his arms and kissed her, she was lost to him.

He unbuttoned and spread her blouse—she was braless—as they were kissing, and then he arched her back and lowered his lips to the coin-sized nipples in her pendulous breasts and fed on her. Kat clung to his bulging biceps with her hands and moaned and sighed for him and pushed her pelvis into his and felt the thick hardness of him there.

They rocked back and forth and Kat raised her legs and hooked them on his hips and undulated her pelvis against him and made deep mewing sounds in her throat. She had no doubt that he would take her if he wanted her. She was already flowing more for him than she had managed for Bert while she was rotating on his joy stick.

All the time Cliff was whispering about how full-bodied a woman she was. How he loved her breasts and the curve to her wide hips. He ran the palm of his hands under her skirt and then under the waistband of her panties, and he was cupping her buttocks in his hands and murmuring about how nice and full they were. How well formed she was for lovemaking and breeding. How much he wanted to make love to her.

Kat just sighed and moaned—she didn't say yes or no, but her responses to him said all he would need to know.

Cliff frog marched her over to the bed, as she still clung to his midsection, and lowered her gently down at the foot of the bed, her buttocks on the edge, and, with his hands still inside her panties, pulled them down and over her legs. He unbuttoned her skirt and pulled that down as well, and then all Kat was wearing were her garter belt and nylons and the high-heeled shoes she had changed into before dinner.

Standing between Kat's spread legs, Cliff flipped off her shoes and reached for the clips on her garter belt, and Kat helped him unsnap those. Then he slowly wound the nylons off her legs, kissing down her legs, one after the other, as they were rolled down.

Then, with his eyes holding hers in the half-light of the room, enough light now for her sense of sight to be as on the edge of passion as her sense of touch, Cliff slowly ran his hands back up her legs, one on each leg, and across her thighs, and to the very center of her.

Kat arched her back and moaned a deep moan as his hands met at her mound and his thumbs slowly parted her labia on each side.

Kat groaned and lifted her pelvis to him.

He was giving her that movie star smile of his. "Please, mam, may I?" He gave a little laugh, a half-mocking laugh. His thumbs were opening her wide and rubbing on her labia, and Kat was trembling uncontrollably.

"Oh, god, oh, god, yes," she was gasping.

And then Cliff went down on his knees between her thighs and his lips and tongue went to her cunt, and his tongue continued on inside her and latched onto her clit. And Kat was writhing under him and fireworks were going off in the room in a rolling orgasm such as she'd never felt before.

When she was calm and mellow again, and sighing heavily at an experience such as none other she'd ever felt, Cliff stood up, but remained standing between her spread legs—and slowly undressed. His body was magnificent, and he had a hard cock that put Bert's to shame.

Kat reached for it and tried to pull it down into her, but Cliff laughed again and gently pushed her hands away and picked up her legs and alternated in kissing up them from the feet again until he had worked his way into the center. And then he was feasting on her cunt again, and she was writhing and groaning and trembling, all wet and slick and flowing, and she had her second orgasm.

That familiar laugh and then he was licking and nibbling up her belly and working her breasts with his hands and mouth and she was writhing again and holding him close to her and begging him to fuck her.

He came up beside her rib cage with his knees and palmed his hands at the back of her head and brought her face up to his cock and she opened her mouth to him. She'd never done this before for a man, but he wasn't just any man. He wasn't of this world. She'd never had a man like this. No man had given her an orgasm before—let alone two—before he'd even got his cock inside her. And so she opened her mouth to him and let him work her head back and forth, making him even larger than he'd been before, as she clung to his perfect butt cheeks with her hands.

He didn't do this very long, though, just long enough to be sure that she was totally his. And then he slid back down her body, his prodigious cock dragging down her center line until she felt in move across her belly and slip over her mound.

He gathered one of her legs up to his shoulder and held the other one out wide, and just glided into her—at least three inches, that is. He had prepared her well, but he was enormous and it still took him some time, and a stop and go movement up her channel as she stretched to him, and his whisperings of sweet endearments to fill her to the quick.

And then he was fucking her in long, smooth strokes, reaching into the depths of her, as she continued to flow around him, lubricating his action. He brought his cock head back out to the surface and pushed it against her clit and started a rubbing and rotating motion that had her crying out at the taking and gave her a third orgasm. Then he dove slowly back into her to the quick, and it was just at the moment that she realized that he wasn't sheathed that he bathed her insides with great spoutings of his cum—and then she didn't care.

He leaned down over her body and took her lips in his and they kissed deeply, and then he pulled them back to her tits and sucked on her nipples as his cock was rejuvenating inside her. Kat had thought, with some sense of regret, that they were finished when he ejaculated, but as she felt him rise again, she realized that this wasn't so, and a guilty little thrill of wantonness ran through her body.

Cliff rotated her body on his cock until she was bent over the bed, with her feet on the floor. He cupped her breasts with his hands and started to pump deep inside her again. She sighed and rotated her wide hips, increasing the friction on his cock and groaned at the gasp he gave for that. She was falling into the rhythm of the fuck and moving in perfect rhythm with him when Cliff pulled his cock out of her.

But he wasn't finished. He was moving the cock head to her other channel. And he'd moved a hand down to her cunt and was gathering up the lubricating fluids she and he had created there and was fingering her asshole with his wet fingers.

Kat lurched and went tense.

"Uh. Cliff. I don't think . . . I've never . . ."

"Hush, babe," he bent down and whispered in her ear. "You'll love it. I give incredible ass fuck. You'll never forget it."

"Oh, god. No. I don't . . . Oh, god. OH GOD!"

Kat screamed out as Cliff entered her ass with his cock. But he was bringing her back up to his chest. One arm was running up her belly with a hand clutching a breast and squeezing, and the other hand covered her face, the heel muffling her mouth and two fingers squeezing her nose, so that she was thinking more about where her next breath was coming from than about the hot poker stretching and moving up her ass canal.

She struggled against him until there was no more struggle in her and he was buried to the hilt inside her ass. He was whispering in her ear to relax and that it would be all right—that she would love it this way. That she would never feel this filled and possessed before.

And as she stopped struggling, he moved his hand to under her chin, still holding her body arched up to his. He was kissing and nibbling her on the ear and whispering to her about how perfect her body was—her wide hips and flaring buttocks and how wide her channels had opened to him. And then he started slow pumping her with his cock and he moved the hand from her breast down to her cunt and found her clit, and Kat was shooting to paradise again. Cliff had not lied to her. She had never been taken as completely and intimately as this before.

He filled her as fully with his cum in her ass as he had done in her other channel.

Then, Kat completely exhausted and almost ready to pass out, Cliff gathered her in his arms and stretched her out on her belly on the bed, and she felt him leaving her.

But before he did, he was sitting next to her and putting some pills in her mouth and putting a glass of water up to her lips—and she drank without thinking, and the pills went down. She turned to ask him what the fuck that was all about, but the words didn't reach her lips. She felt herself drifting into sleep.

In the night, she came half awake again, as her body was covered by another. Cliff was back, she thought, and she was happy for him to do what he would with her. There wasn't any intimacy left that he hadn't indulged in, and she felt like a fairy princess in what a hunk he was and how he had totally possessed her. She was so groggy, though, that he'd have to do whatever it was himself.

She felt weight on her back and hands coming under her and hold her breasts—and the head of a cock at her asshole. And then, as she flipped into never-never land, hands holding her hips and hands holding her thighs and a second cock head at her cunt. And, the hands holding her firmly in place, both cocks were entering her simultaneously and sliding to the depths and pumping her.