Superf***er Vol. 07

I teased Crystal's clit with my tongue while she lay on top of me, sucking as much of my dick as she could swallow. Baby Eddie had fallen back asleep after his 6am feeding, leaving Crystal and me a little time to play before I had to move on. Ever since I'd revealed to her that I was from outer space and on a mission to father as many half-human hybrids as possible, seeing Crystal again was a rare luxury. Most women I would screw once and then stay away--there was a good chance she would be pregnant, since my sperm carry hormones that stimulate ovulation. Eventually they'd mysteriously start to get checks from the organization I set up specifically for that purpose, the Starr Child Foundation. But I couldn't let them actually find me, or the whole thing might fall apart.

Crystal still looked like a high school cheerleader fantasy come true, even though she was a college graduate and mother. She'd indicated willingness to bear me another, but I wanted Eddie get a little older first; she was burdened enough. My nuts were almost ready to release; normally I'd want to be sure that seed landed in a fertile pussy, but Crystal was the exception. I was being a little cruel, though, withholding what she wanted most until I had mine. When I lay my negatively-charged thumb on one side of her clitoris and my positively-charged fingers on the other, a tiny and intensely pleasurable current flowed between them. If that current flowed right through her clit, well, most women came like a volcano in less than a minute, and Crystal was no exception. But she knew me, and knew that I wouldn't let this morning's recreation end until she had that mega-orgasm she craved.

Crystal was highly aroused and wanted to cum, so she worked as hard as she could on sucking me off. My face was covered in her juice, and her pussy was glowing with excitement. Then she pulled out her best trick--instead of sucking hard and fast, she swallowed me as far as she could go and then kept going, trying to push my dick past her mouth and into the tightness of her throat. It usually gave her a sore throat later, but she also knew it usually got me off. I don't know whether it was the tightness or just the appreciation that my partner would go to such lengths just to please me, but it worked yet again. Crystal backed off so that just my tip was in her mouth while I came--she complained that I came so hard it hurt her throat. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the sensation while Crystal collected every drop. When I was done, she arched her back, swallowed and waited--she knew it was her turn. It was tempting to tease her, but she'd done plenty of work and deserved hers. I stuck two fingers into her soaking snatch and rested the thumb right on the clitoris, rubbing slightly. This position sent the currents through both the clitoris and the inside walls of her pussy. She stiffened as the sensation hit, moaning involuntarily. I held on, keeping my thumb on the button while her hips bucked like a bronco. Then with a wail of ecstasy, her body was racked with wave after wave of shudders.

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"So why were you in the neighborhood?" Crystal asked over breakfast. She understood that I couldn't tell her in advance if I was in town, lest I be located by process servers bearing paternity suits--she'd hired one herself, once upon a time. Now that she knew the story, she was helping me; trolling Internet dating and sex sites, spreading stories about the mysterious man with the huge dick and serving as liaison to hook me up with women intrigued by the tale. I loved Internet hookups because they took so much less time and effort than the alternative, prowling singles bars across the country. As a result, I paid her a bounty for every hookup, roughly the amount I usually had to spend to spend to get a girl in bed.

"Single swingers dot com had a Vegas weekend," I answered, "bagged three girls in 24 hours, so..." I handed her $1200 in cash. She worked on the strip--60% time, the minimum she could work and still get health insurance; she made a lot more money hooking me up than waitressing, but she needed the insurance for Eddie. She also knew that I made most of that money by beating the casinos (my infrared vision giving me a decided advantage at blackjack) so a lot of time I was in town just to fill up the wallet.

"Ooh, good one," she smiled, "now I can buy Eddie the dresser I wanted for Eddie's room."

"I hope you spend some on yourself, too," I smiled.

"Maybe...there's this pair of shoes I was looking at...high heels...black straps..." she teased, reaching under the table to touch my dick. She knew it turned me on when she wore sexy shoes, almost as much as when she put on the cheerleader uniform...but I'm getting sidetracked. This story isn't about Crystal, it's about Amy--the director of the Foundation and a very special person to me.

Crystal dropped me off at the airport on the way to work as always (I only dropped in on my last night in town). I checked my email as I waited for my flight, and found a red-flagged note from Amy. She wouldn't have needed to, I always open hers up right away. I guess that sort of tipped me off that something was wrong before I even read it:

Dear Mr. Starr:

I need to speak to you at once. Some things have come up and I do not know that I can continue to serve as Foundation director.

Amy

I knew right away this was serious; she knew to only call me Bill, not Mr. Starr. I wondered if that meant that whatever had come up had something to do with me. Amy had been a great director, organized and thorough. And she was also an aspiring writer for whom the relatively short hours needed to do the job were invaluable; she must have something really going down if she was considering walking away from it. She was also a gorgeous redhead that I found myself thinking about and dreaming about frequently when I was alone. Most of my sexual encounters kind of blurred together in my mind, but the one night I had shared with Amy was clearly etched in my memory. I longed to be able to see Amy again like I did Crystal, but it just wasn't possible. No one knew about Crystal, I was fairly safe dropping in on her. The Foundation was my one direct link to my children; I didn't feel like I could afford to be seen anywhere in New York City anymore. I wrote back:

Dear Amy:

I hope everything is all right. I won't be in New York, but tomorrow I will be near enough that I can send a car to fetch you, and we can go somewhere and talk? Would that be acceptable?

Bill

She must have been actively watching for a reply, because in ten minutes I had an answer.

I suppose, although I have a hard time believing your schedule is so busy that you can't ever make an appearance at the office...

Something had gotten under her skin. If it had something to do with me, there was pretty much only one thing it could be.

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"Bill, I have to know what's really going on--because if it's what I think it is, I don't want any part of it." We were walking along the boardwalk in Atlantic City. I had wanted to take her to dinner, but she had firmly declined and just wanted to do our business. It was off-season and it was late, so the stores were closed and this part of the boardwalk mostly deserted. Amy was dressed for autumn in a green business suit cut above the knee, high black boots, and black tights covering the few inches of leg in-between.

"I told you what the mission of the foundation is..."

"Yes, I know what you TOLD me the mission of the foundation is, Bill," she interrupted testily. "But I'm NOT stupid. Every week, you add two or three names to the list. I send them the letter. Most of the time, I get a phone call. Did Bill So-and-so have something to do with this? No, I say. Did Bill Whatsisname have something to do with this? No. Some don't even know a last name; they just ask if a man named Bill had something to do with this, and sometimes they describe him. They describe YOU. No, I tell them. Why do you ask, I ask them. The answer is always the same: paternity."

"And from this information your conclusion is?"

"That this foundation is a front. You told me once that sometimes you lived the life of the playboy--I'm starting to get a different picture. I'm thinking you ALWAYS live the life of the playboy, and this foundation is a cheap ploy for you to father as many children as you like and not feel guilty about it. That's what I think."

I said nothing. My failure to deny was tantamount to confession.

"I thought so. Here is my letter of resignation..." she seethed, reaching into her purse.

"Wait," I said, touching her arm and stopping walking.

"What for!?!" she demanded.

"Amy, you've got a brilliant mind, which is why I wanted you for this job. You have the data and you've drawn sound conclusions from it. I'm not denying those conclusions--but I am going to tell you that you've got the wrong idea, because you don't have the most important pieces of data at your disposal."

"And what's THAT supposed to mean?" she snapped.

It felt like deja vu, as I thought back to the day I had run into Crystal on a Las Vegas sidewalk and I had revealed to her my extraterrestrial nature. For a hundred years I had kept it secret, and in a moment of despair let it out--but that worked out much better than I could have ever expected in the end. Maybe it was just my own wishful thinking, but I kept thinking there was, or at least could be, something special between me Amy and me. But now she was pissed off and two seconds from storming out of my life altogether. My only chance was to come clean--I had to reveal my alien origins yet again. So without warning I jumped--twenty feet straight up in the air, where I caught and hung from a light pole.

"What the...Bill?" She glared up at me, shielding her eyes, unable to believe that she had just seen.

"Look out below!" I called as I let go of the light pole and started plummeting downward.

"Bill!" she cried in alarm. But instead of accelerating until hitting the ground with a splat, I aligned my magnetodes in mid-air so that I was repelled by the earth's magnetic field. Crossing my arms and legs and striking a nonchalant pose, as if leaning against a wall, I drifted down. I slowed as I neared the surface, rather than accelerated, coming to rest softly on my feet. Her mouth was wide open, speechless. Aligning my magnetodes again, I drifted upward until I was hovering about ten feet off the ground, then drifted downward again.

"What the hell..." she spat, not sure if she should be angry or frightened.

I wanted to lift something heavy too, but saw nothing nearby that wasn't bolted down. So instead I bend down low and stuck my middle finger under her boot, in the opening where the heel met the sole. Slowly, I started lifting her off the ground at full arm's length.

"Bill..." she cried in fright as she felt her feet leave the floor. But I concentrated, and was able to balance her on my one finger, lifting her. She stood perfectly still, petrified as I lifted her about three feet up and then gently set her back down. By then, she was really confused as to how to respond.

"My name isn't really Bill," I started explaining as I stood up, "but my name cannot be pronounced in English or any other language on Earth," which I demonstrated by then saying it. "I was born on a planet 300 light-years away. I have lived on Earth since your 1908, arriving through a wormhole in space-time that followed the Tunguska impact. My mission was to investigate reports of another sentient species whose evolution was remarkably similar to our own. I finished my research fifty earth-years ago and have been waiting for another cosmic impact large enough to create a wormhole and let me go home."

I pulled out my Interplanetary Motion Simulator. "This is an IMS. It tracks movement of objects in the universe and allows you to predict where collisions will occur. This little device is what makes deep-space travel possible. This is earth..." I moved items about on the screen; no point in trying to explain, she couldn't understand any of the symbols anyway. It thought for a moment, then a box popped up with an estimated date and time of the next collision. "Here it is. A little less than a year and half in my time, or right about 19 Earth years. Now, let's look at the details of the object..." I opened the box with a finger and another information box about the object popped up. First came up details on speed, mass and trajectory--and then a box with red lettering popped up, flashing and making the device beep with an alarm.

She was watching closely, astounded but not so much as to not be able to process what I was doing. I admired her intelligence and curiosity triumphing over being totally freaked out. "On Earth, red lettering and beeping sounds usually means something bad," she noted hesitantly.

"A universal throughout the known universe," I smiled. So far she was really handling this well. "It does indeed mean something bad. Very bad. The object that will collide with Earth is an antimatter comet. Do you know what happens when antimatter collides with matter?"

She shook her head. "Of course you don't, because no one on this planet has even seen antimatter before. When antimatter collides with matter, they annihilate each other--cancel out each other's existence, basically. But in physics, matter doesn't just appear or disappear. Are you familiar with the equation E=MC2?" She nodded. "That's what happens--the matter and antimatter that are destroyed are converted into a burst of pure energy the likes of which you've never seen. Given the mass of this comet, I predict that the explosion alone will atomize every planet from Mercury and Jupiter, depending on where they are in their orbit I suppose. And frequently what happens when there's a huge energy release this close to a star, it triggers a supernova, which would of course wipe out the rest. Not that we'll ever know, though, because when the comet hits we'll all be vaporized in an instant." I snapped my fingers for emphasis.

She looked up from the device and was searching my face. Did she trust me? Was I feeding her a line? Was she delusional? Was I delusional? It certainly never entered her mind that her employer and one-time lover came from outer space. She was looking for cues from me to help makes sense of it all. My serious expression seemed to convince her I was being straight with her.

"The only way to avoid obliteration is to divert this comet. Your scientists have talked a little about Earth impact scenarios, and have talked about maybe using nuclear weapons to redirect an object on collision course. That kind of approach might work if this wasn't made of antimatter. But a nuclear explosion will still involve matter. That matter will collide with the comet and be converted to energy. But then, the comet will pass through the energy cloud, and the event horizon will recapture that energy and turn it back into antimatter. So instead of diverting the comet..."

"It will only make it bigger," she finished. Wow...I'm not easily impressed, but to keep her head so well when I was dropping a bombshell of unbelievable magnitude on her...

"So the only way to avoid this collision is through a pure force," I explained. "If we're lucky, it will have a strong magnetic polarity. If not, we'll probably have to rely on gravitational forces. But I can't do it alone, and humans--you don't have any control over your magnetic properties. That's why you can't do this..." and I hovered slightly again, then quickly came back down. "And because there aren't any other collisions between then and now, I couldn't get help from my own planet if I wanted to. Sure I could send an SOS, but it wouldn't arrive until 300 years after we were all dead. So rather than sit here and just wait to die, I decided to test just how similar our species really are--I decided to try to cross-breeding with you. My hope was that if we could mate, some of the offspring might inherit some of my abilities and together maybe we COULD save the Earth. If not... well, we're all doomed anyway."

I paused to let that all sink in. Her eyes were looking at me, but really they weren't; she was struggling to come to terms with an overwhelming amount of new and information about a reality that by any terrestrial standard was absolutely insane. "So yes, your deductions are correct Mr. Holmes," I said in a softer tone, "those are all my children that the foundation is supporting. And maybe greatness isn't the right word, but the foundation is indeed providing support children with specific genetic characteristics. My target has been for about 200 children with magnetic control abilities, which genetics tells me means I need to father at least 400 children--and they will need to be at least in their mid-teens by the time the comet gets in range. That's a lot of children to support, which is why I can't let myself be found and slapped with a paternity suit. As you have no doubt deduced, that's the whole reason I set up the foundation." I was silent for a moment decided whether to risk adding what I was feeling. I had decided I was going to come clean; I may as well come clean on everything. "That's the reason why I've not allowed myself to come back to New York and visit the office. I don't know how many nights I've laid awake in bed, some stranger snoozing next to me, wondering what you were doing, remembering the time we spent together, wishing I could see you again. I can't levitate or lift you with one finger to prove that like I can prove that I'm not human, but it's the honest truth."

She turned her head and looked away; she had come here angry and didn't want to believe me, but she had seen me do things that should have been impossible with her own eyes. "So now you know the rest of the story. Yes, there's been a secret behind the Foundation. Now you know everything; there's nothing left to hide. I guess it's up to you now. If you want to stay with the Foundation, the job is yours as long as you want it. If you still want to resign, I'd understand." In spite of myself, I leaned forward and kissed her red hair gently. Then I turned and headed back the way we had come, leaving her to her own decision.

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I ate by myself in the back of a 24-hour diner. The whole time I wondered what Amy would do. I didn't have to worry too much about her turning me in, they'd surely think she was a loony if she relayed the story that her boss was an alien from outer space. I really could understand why she might want to quit the Foundation, although I really hoped she wouldn't. Usually I'm pretty good at guessing what humans are going to do, but Amy--she was too smart to predict accurately. Either that, or my feelings about her got in the way.

After dinner I hit the casino to make some more money. I was very quiet the whole time I was at the tables. I was on a roll actually, winning without even having to use my infra-red vision. It seemed like I was the only one at the table that couldn't get excited about my hot streak, though, because my mind was elsewhere.

When I cashed in, I asked where was the best place to find a little action tonight. He sent me to the casino's dance club--predictable, but probably accurately since this casino was essentially the only joint in A.C. considered "hip." I paid the cover charge and sat in a booth in the back. I glanced at my watch; damn, it was only 10:00, way earlier than I usually headed out. Time flies when you're having fun, and this was the exact opposite. Sure, there were some nice-looking girls in the place--New York City girls, I guessed. I watched a few of them for a while, but I couldn't get myself motivated to get up and start chatting to any of them. Eventually I'd have to...but man, seduction was tiring work!