Not Your Average Joe
Chapter 13: A Surprise Visitor

Copyright© 2016 by double_entendre

Sex Story: Chapter 13: A Surprise Visitor - This is story inspired by, but NOT a part of the "Swarm Cycle Universe" about a boy genius who comes up with a plan to defeat an alien race known as the Vermin, that intends to invade Earth. Will he be successful in this venture? What complications will he face? Is he man enough to handle the sheer number of companions he's been issued, and can he live with the results of his actions?

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft   mt/Fa   Consensual   Romantic   Reluctant   Coercion   Slavery   Lesbian   Fan Fiction   Science Fiction   Space   Aliens   Incest   Cousins   Group Sex   Harem   Interracial   Black Female   White Male   White Female   Oriental Female   First   Oral Sex   Anal Sex   Pregnancy   School   War  

When I got home, I made sure to tell mom about my conquest. I did this, not to rub my mother’s face in the fact that I was having sex, but to try and discourage her illusion that I would eventually tire of my quest to save the world and revert to being her innocent little boy once again. I felt it was for her own good that I squelch that fantasy before she became too hurt when it never materialized.

After supper that evening, I received a surprise visit from a young woman and her seven-month-old baby, who claimed to be the sister and niece of Mary Ann Russell.

I initially assumed she came over to read me the riot act for the way I spoke to her sister. Major Johnson even checked her and the tyke out to ensure they weren’t carrying any weapons. Though I felt that was an unnecessary precaution, I still appreciated that he was only trying to do his job, which was protecting me and ensuring my safety.

It turned out I couldn’t have been more wrong about her motives! After hearing what Mary Ann had said to us, Betty, who I later learned was only Mary Ann’s half-sister, felt it was her duty to come to me and apologize on behalf of her family. I knew this couldn’t possibly be the real reason for her visit, yet I was gracious enough to accept her apology even (falsely) stating that I may have been a bit too abrupt in my reprisal to her sister. She assured me that was not the case and pleaded with me not hold the actions of her half-sister against her entire family.

Thinking that I finally discovered her true objective for coming over this evening, I assured Betty that I simply didn’t have enough leeway with the Consensus to blacklist anyone from being extracted and, even if I did, I certainly wasn’t vindictive enough to do so over a little bit of petty name-calling.

After learning that I had no intention of interfering with any of her family’s attempts at being extracted, she relaxed a bit, and I learned more about her situation. I discovered that Mary Ann and Betty shared the same father but different mothers.

Betty’s mom was very religious and believed that abstinence was the only proper course of action prior to marriage. The woman absolutely refused to allow her daughter be put on birth control, was so set in her ways that she simply couldn’t conform to the changes brought on by the arrival of the Char.

When Betty’s boyfriend, Doug, passed his CIP test, he offered to take her with him if she allowed him full access to her body. Their coupling produced little Angelia, and Doug reneged on his promise, choosing someone else as a companion, instead. It was a sad tale which occurred far too often in the past, and eventually led to the Consensus issuing written contracts to their volunteers.

When Betty was finished reciting her story, I could tell she was crying. I remembered what Mom said about women using both tears and sex to get what they wanted from a man. I also knew having acquired that knowledge did little to prevent the situation from tugging at my heartstrings, especially when little Angelia wouldn’t stop cooing at me.

“Betty, did you bring your CIP card?” I asked.

“Yes, it’s required that I carry it wherever I go,” she replied, seemingly confused by my inquiry.

“Would you mind if I took a look at it?” I questioned.

“I suppose not,” she replied nonchalantly before fishing it out of her pocketbook.

I was surprised to discover how different the two half-sisters actually were. Betty was definitely smarter, more nurturing, and possessed a much higher natural sex drive than Mary Ann did.

“Betty, are you up for a bedroom interview tonight?” I asked blatantly.

“I really didn’t come here for that,” she argued.

“Are you completely opposed to the idea?” I challenged.

“Well, no, but I’m not about to make the same mistake I did last time, and since I’m still not on any form of birth control, you would have to use a condom if we had intercourse,” she established.

“I have no problem doing that, but let’s build up to it first and see what happens,” I suggested.

“What are we going to do with Angelia?” Betty asked.

“I was hoping I might be able to convince my mother to watch her for an hour or so,” I said, looking over at my mom who appeared utterly stunned at the direction our conversation was going.

“Um, yes, I suppose that would be alright,” Mom answered, bewildered and partly stuttering.

“Thanks, Mom,” I said cheerfully.

“Before we proceed, I have to know if this is a real interview or just a way to get even with my sister?” she questioned as we climbed the steps to my bedroom.

“Betty, if after speaking with me this entire time you still feel the need to ask such a question, then perhaps this isn’t such a good idea,” I told her.

“No, I want this. Actually, I think I need it, but you have to understand that I loved Doug and thought he loved me. I just don’t want to get my hopes up and be burned again,” she confessed.

“I do understand, but I’m not Doug, and I’m not offering you anything more than an open and fair assessment of our sexual compatibility. I also promise that we will reframe from intercourse unless it is both mutually agreed upon and I’m covered by a condom. That, of course, is until both our signatures are on one of my companion acquisition contracts,” I stated.

As we headed for my bedroom, I realized this would be the first time I was going to have sex in my own bed ... with the exception of my right hand, of course. Though she was nowhere near as firm as her half-sister, having failed to lose most of the baby fat from her pregnancy, I simply wasn’t concerned about that. She was much more loving and attentive than I envisioned Mary Ann could ever be.

We took our time getting acquainted with each other’s bodies. I learned about things such as lip to lip kissing, and other highly intimate practices, which Miss Loretta, either didn’t have the time to train me on, or felt uncomfortable doing with me.

Unlike a woman, I wasn’t capable of achieving multiple orgasms, but I still felt Betty gave, as good as she received, treating me to an almost agonizingly slow blowjob – that seemed to last for decades. She would build up my excitement, and then halt her manipulation of my cock for a time, allowing my sperm to recede slowly back into my testicles, before once again attempting to extract it by bringing me just to the brink of eruption.

By the time I managed to fill her sweet mouth with my salty essence, I felt like I’d already left Earth’s orbit and entered another realm of human existence where immense pleasure was the only feeling that was allowed to cross over.

Once I floated back down to my own time, I glanced over at this vision of exquisiteness and knew that I would not rest until I made her as blissfully satisfied as she had me. To accomplish this, I had to call upon not only my prior experiences, but also every single obscure detail depicting the heightening of a woman’s pleasure and sexual arousal that I’ve been filling my brain with ever since my interest in such matters had materialized. My discoveries revealed that, although no two females are exactly alike, there are certain practices which nearly all women respond to favorably. The key is to find the sweet spots that trigger their inner passions.

I took a personal tour of her body, making sure I visited every documented erogenous zone from my studies. Through the employment of touch therapy, I was able to gauge her responses by the sighs and whines that escaped her lips. I listened to her breathing and timed her heart rate, carefully noting the effects my caresses would produce. Her juices flowed from what seemed like an endless fountain of natural lubrication, and I briefly wondered if my bed would ever be dry again.

As my lips gently captured her hardened nipple, I encountered a flavor that I had not experienced since infancy. Although not an actual memory, there did seem to be a rather dulled recognition as the piquancy exploded onto my taste buds. I reluctantly pulled away from this smorgasbord of sweetness to descend further down her body to the source of her leakage. I used the roof of my mouth to divert the drainage overworking my throat muscles in an attempt to draw out every bit of her tangy secretions.

From beginning to end, her orgasms were indistinguishable. It became impossible to determine a rise-to-fall ratio that could accurately measure her start and stopping points, before the whole process would be repeated, sending her further into the depths of ecstasy than she ever dreamed possible. Without the ability to form a conscious thought, much less a coherent sentence, she somehow managed to convey her desire for our coupling. How I ever managed to remember a condom at that point I’ll never know, but I just barely got it stretched into place before the fury of our passion overtook all brain function, reverting us to mere primates, bonded together through our mutual lust.

 
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