Page 40 of Return to Sender
When he finally gives me what I’m begging for—his fingers curling inside me to hit that perfect spot while his mouth works my clit with purpose—the climax hits me like a plasma cannon. I arch off the bed, crying out his name as waves of pleasure crash through me with devastating intensity.
But instead of letting me recover, he continues his ministrations, using his alien precision to extend the peak until I’m shaking beneath him.
“One,” he says when I finally collapse back onto the bed, breathing hard.
“One what?” I pant.
“One peak achieved. However, I believe I mentioned that my species considers three the minimum acceptable standard.”
The predatory smile he gives me should probably be illegal in civilized space.
“You’re going to kill me,” I realize.
“I prefer to think of it as comprehensive quality assurance,” he replies, then sets about proving that his enhanced stamina serves multiple purposes.
True to his word, he doesn’t stop at one. Using everything he’s learned about my responses, he brings me to a second peakthat’s even more intense than the first. Then a third that leaves me boneless and shaking.
Only then does he finally position himself at my entrance, and I’m so sensitized that even the first touch of his alien anatomy makes me gasp.
“This may feel... intense,” he warns, the head of his cock pressing against my slick heat.
“After what you just put me through, I think I can handle intense,” I manage, then immediately revise that assessment as he begins to push inside.
The ridges along his shaft create exquisite friction as he fills me, each one sending sparks of sensation through nerve endings that are already oversensitized from his thorough attention. But it’s when he’s fully seated and those additional appendages begin to move that I truly understand what alien pleasure means.
The smaller extensions curl around to stroke my clit and the sensitive skin around where we’re joined, while others seem to seek out internal spots that make me cry out in surprise and renewed need. It’s like being touched everywhere at once, inside and out, in ways human anatomy could never achieve.
“Oh god,” I gasp, my back arching as sensations build that I don’t have words for. “Wi’kar—”
“Mine,” he growls against my throat as we move together, his alien anatomy creating friction and fullness that borders on overwhelming.
But even here, even joined completely, he doesn’t give up his newfound love of controlled chaos. He varies his rhythm, his depth, his angle, keeping me constantly on edge, never quite letting me settle into any predictable pattern.
“Please,” I beg, my nails digging into his shoulders. “I need—”
“What do you need?” he asks, his voice strained but still carrying that edge of control that’s driving me insane.
“I need you to stop being so precise and just lose control with me,” I gasp.
Something shifts in his expression at that—some last barrier finally crumbling. When he moves again, it’s with desperate hunger rather than calculated precision. His alien appendages work in perfect coordination, creating a symphony of sensation that builds and builds until I’m sobbing his name.
“Yours,” I gasp as the pressure becomes unbearable. “Always yours.”
The claiming words seem to break the last of his restraint. He drives into me with alien strength and passion, his appendages working my most sensitive spots until I shatter completely, my fourth climax of the night tearing through me with enough force to make me see stars.
I feel him follow me over the edge, his alien anatomy pulsing and moving in ways that extend and intensify both our releases until we’re both left gasping and boneless.
In the aftermath, as we lie entangled and breathless, I trace lazy patterns on his chest while aftershocks of the most incredible sexual experience of my life still ripple through my body.
“So,” I say eventually, my voice hoarse from crying out. “That was... educational.”
“Gluxian anatomy is designed for optimal reproductive success,” he informs me solemnly, but I can hear the smug satisfaction in his voice.
I laugh weakly. “Is that your species’ way of saying you’re built to blow minds?”
“Among other things,” he agrees. “Though I must admit, discovering the appeal of... strategic disorder... has been surprisingly enlightening.”
“Strategic disorder?”
