By G. Russell
"Can I make love to you in my true form?"
"Thank you, my love. This means so much. Close your eyes."
"Okay. They're closed," he said with a wolfish grin.
A modest, yet sensual pause. Then, timidly, "I'm ready."
Spaceman Jones stared.
The huge mucus ball tinkled, "My sexual orifice is here, at the back of my head. Please insert your penis when you're ready, my love."
Dribbling a greyish green mucoid detritus, the salivating opening, winking like a crazed eye glazed with a fiery cataract, beckoned winsomely to the startled astronaunt.
"Um...Okay, Deirdre. I gotta check the coolant pumps first."
"Why are you putting on your spacesuit?" asked the oscillating alien.
"I'll have to go outside. The valve's on the outer hull."
She fell silent, thoughtful.
"You'll come back?"
Deirdre quivered with delight.
"I'll be waiting," she said, and added; "I love you!"
© Nov 2003, 2011 Gary Russell. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or in part without written permission from the author.
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Born in the 60's, Gary Russell gained his considerable reputation whilst living underneath a magical bridge and riddling passers-by for gold dubloons. Whilst interred he was denied access to visitors, writing implements, and sharp metal objects. His present whereabouts, following the explosion that destroyed the facility, remain shrouded in mystery.