© 1999, All Rights Reserved

The following text was discovered on the hard drive of a used computer I purchased. It had been deleted but not permanently erased. Personally, I doubt the authenticity of the document and assume it was the creative effort of the previous owner. I submit it here with only minor editing changes.

K123-347 (Local 960524)

I have to write it down somewhere, and it certainly doesn't belong in official dispatches, so I have begun this diary. Mostly, I admit, it is for my own benefit. I want to relive and reconsider experiences outside the scope of my mission and the interest of my superiors. It might be important, though, should anything happen to me, for there to be a record of this.

The subject, to be blunt -- and I can and intend to be blunt in this private diary -- is sex.

I have tried in my dispatches to convey how radically different sexual congress among humans is from what we Nxtlaqu experience. Perhaps at some point in our early development we were similarly preoccupied but if so it must have been eons ago. We live so long, conceive so readily and, because of that, copulate so seldom that sex plays a negligible role in our culture. The need for pleasure as a spur to mating disappeared long before we spread beyond our own solar system and has nearly disappeared. The sex act, for us, lasts about as long and engenders about as much pleasure as a good sneeze. The important thing is the choosing of a mate and the result of mating, not the mating itself.

I was therefore unprepared for the rather notable differences in the human approach to mating, where the practice is not only undertaken for its own sake, without regard to progeny, but often with extensive efforts to prevent conception. At first, I found this salaciousness repugnant. It pervades the entire culture -- art in all forms, advertising, clothing, technology, commerce. At times it all seems to be undertaken for the sake of sex.

Yet, as time passed, I noticed a change come over me. I was concerned, at first, that there might be something wrong with my local physical being. When medical tests failed to reveal a problem, I considered alternative explanations, and was eventually forced to conclude it was normal. That is, while I control this body I inhabit completely at the mental level and mostly at the physical level, it has some fundamental urges and needs of its own.

Once I identified the source of the waves of restlessness that came over me from time to time, and once I determined that it presented no significant risk to my mission, I decided to let my body have its way. It was therapeutic and prophylactic. My body needed it for both health and contentment.

It doesn't hurt, of course, that this body I inhabit is young, healthy and -- in human terms, at least -- attractive. (Humans are rather ugly until you get used to them, being thick of body, primitively muscled and ape-faced.) I appear to be a female of about 25 years, five feet eight inches tall, long dark-red hair, well- proportioned. The circumference of my torso around the bust is just under 36 inches, narrowing substantially at my waist, and increases again to roughly 34 inches around my hips.

This is nothing like what I used to look like before I underwent the transfer, which is just as well. I don't think the males of this species (or females, for that matter) would have found me attractive in my previous form. I certainly didn't find them attractive to me for the first year I was here.

But, as I said, I came to feel differently. It was a case of body over mind, instead of the other way around. I caught myself, for example, noticing and admiring the posteriors of some human males, an activity so ludicrous I feared for my mental stability. Gradually, it began to dawn on me that my physical body was responding genetically to the call of the zygote. Once I had identified what it was that was troubling me, the next question was what to do about it.

That didn't take me long to answer. My next question was how.

It wasn't long after that that the answer presented itself. I was sitting in the park, feeding and talking to the squirrels (They are real nuts!), when a human male of about my apparent age stopped to talk with me.

His opening move was not clever: "Cute, aren't they?" But I said "Yes," and we went on from there. Before long, he sat down on the bench with me, and we talked of squirrels, birds and -- when one came by and chased away the squirrels and birds -- dogs. Then he asked me if I wanted to have a drink or a cup of coffee, pointing toward the cafes that lined the sidewalk across from the park. I accepted.

Alcohol is a peculiarly human taste. Our experience throughout the galaxy so far has turned up few examples of widespread use of depressives for "intoxication." Most cultures seem to prefer substances that expand horizons rather than limiting them. My own native culture has nothing of the sort, pleasure of any kind beyond rarefied intellectual satisfaction being alien to us.

I had become more comfortable at casual conversation with humans during the past year. Eddie -- that was his name, Eddie Fowler -- asked about me and my history, and I lied generously. My name was Valerie -- Valerie Gurzakin. I was from the Czech Republic, I told him, but my parents were both Slovaks. Being a foreigner explains a lot of things, I've found, from accent to unfamiliarity with common references. No, I wasn't from Prague (the only Czech city most Americans know of, if any) but a small village in the north called Zentac, which I pronounced as if it ended in 'sh.' I had come to America as a student and now worked as a translator for a company doing business in eastern Europe. Eddie bought it all without question.

All the time we were talking, I was wondering if he was going to be the one. I was pretty certain that he was in favor of it, and I wanted to, sort of. I mean...

I'd never done this. Not just as a human, but as a Nxtlaqtha. This, as you know, is my first real assignment. Before coming to Earth, I was young, at least in our terms. And there had never been an opportunity or reason at the same time for me to get around to it. I might have gone another 100 of our years -- nearly 130 of theirs -- before I was really ready to mate.

But this human body was ready. I could tell. I had felt it pulling me for several months before I understood. At first, I just knew it wanted something. Later, I knew what it wanted. A man.

And I found I wanted to give my body a man. Well, why not? It wouldn't interfere with my mission. On the contrary, the information would be interesting and probably useful. Certainly, it would be my most intimate interaction with a human to date.

So I decided Eddie was going to get lucky.

I wasn't exactly sure how to proceed. Fortunately, human males are generally the aggressors sexually. I knew all I needed was to somehow communicate my willingness and Eddie would take over.

So I turned to the side and pulled my shoulders back as if stretching out a kink in my back, which made my breasts jut forward in a manner I knew males find compelling, and then leaned forward while talking with him, pointing the opening of my blouse toward him and giving him a good look into my cleavage. That got his attention. And I looked him in the eyes, laughed at his jokes, touched his hand on the table with mine, and slowly dragged my fingertip across the back of his hand when I withdrew it. Pretty soon, he was so obviously interested that I would have laughed (Laughing is a WONDERFUL human invention) except that I knew human men don't like to be laughed at.

I was determined to enjoy the preliminaries, however strange they might seem.

We sat down on his sofa, and Eddie immediately put his arm around my shoulders, then pulled me toward him and moved his face toward mine. I knew he wanted to kiss, so I puckered my lips to meet his.

I could tell right away that he was a little surprised, because he pulled back a little. Analyzing it quickly, I decided that I was holding my lips too firmly, so I let them relax. That seemed more like it, because he pressed his mouth to mine again and sort of wriggled it from side to side. Then I felt his slimy tongue push forward from his mouth into mine. Restraining the impulse to bite it, I stayed relaxed and let him worm his tongue around in my mouth. Once I got used to the idea, it felt pretty good.

We did that for a while, then Eddie sat back and, by pulling on my shoulders, indicated that he wanted me to turn the other way. I tucked my feet up onto the sofa and turned to face him, lying across his lap. Eddie wrapped his arms around me and recommenced his kisses. This time, when he poked his tongue between my lips, I licked back. He seemed to like that, and he also liked it when I opened my mouth wider and let him probe around the inside of my mouth.

The kissing and the close, warm feeling of our bodies pressed together sent a pleasant tingle throughout my body. I was slightly alarmed at first but then realized that it was responding to the caresses and intimacy. In particular, I noticed that my sex organ developed a tendency to contract and relax without my conscious will. It was also lubricating. I could feel the dampness in my panties where the fabric pressed against the outer lips of my vulva.

Eddie moved his hand to my stomach and stroked it in slow circles, which did nothing for me. Then he slid it slowly and tentatively upward until it came to rest just under my left breast. I could feel the under surface resting lightly on his hand, which I found strangely thrilling.

While I knew, academically at least, that human female breasts were considered part of the sexual equipment, I had generally understood that to mean that human males considered them such. The mammary fixation of the male population was apparent, but my own experience to that moment was that breasts were simply somewhat inconvenient reserve equipment for nursing infants and, other than that, had no role or purpose. When Eddie slid his hand higher to cup my breast in his palm and squeezed it gently with his fingers, I discovered that my assumption was incorrect. It felt good and resulted in more contracting and dampness at my middle. I pressed my breast into Eddie's palm, encouraging him to continue.

We continued to kiss and fondle for several minutes. Actually, I did very little myself other than be receptive, although I had a vague sense that I should do something. My hands stroked Eddie's back and gripped his head, but that didn't seem enough.

Before long, I felt Eddie's fingers fumbling at my back and realized that he was trying to unbutton my dress. Not knowing what else to do, I lay in his arms passively and let him. He was not as adept as one might have expected, but eventually he got the top several buttons unfastened. His warm and slightly moist palm stroked my back and shoulders, which I found surprisingly sensuous, especially when he curled his fingers and dragged his fingernails across the skin. My body shuddered involuntarily and my shoulders twitched several times in response.

Encouraged, Eddie unfastened the remaining buttons down to the small of my back. Then, while maintaining a particularly long and motile kiss -- presumably to stifle any protest I might otherwise make -- Eddie began to pull the top of my dress forward from my shoulders. I made no protest -- indeed, I had no intention of protesting -- and even helped by shrugging my shoulders forward and then slipping my arms, one after the other, out the short sleeves. The top half slid into my lap, exposing my upper torso to the waist except for the peach-colored brassiere that supported my mammaries. I had chosen it carefully that morning -- an underwire variety that exposed more of my breast flesh than usual.

Relaxing his arms slightly and allowing my body to drop backward, Eddie kissed his way to my ear, then to my throat (which I found very pleasurable) and then down across my thorax to the uncovered tops of my breasts. His lips touched me lightly and nibbled their way to the hollow between them. His tongue poked out and licked down into the deep valley.

I kept telling myself to stop observing and simply participate. I focused on the touch of his lips against my skin and the firm, wet slide of his tongue tip as it traced along my breast flesh. I felt like I wanted to pull his face into me and press it against my breasts, and so I did.

Shortly thereafter, Eddie's fingers slid to the middle of my back and began to fumble at the band stretched across it. I arched my back slightly to ease the strain on the band, and he managed to release without too much trouble the three hooks that held it together. Propping me against his knees, Eddie pulled both sides forward and away, slid the straps off my arms, and then tossed my brassiere to the side. He gazed admiringly at my bare breasts and smiled.

"Nice!" he said, speaking for the first time in several minutes. "So pretty!"

I blushed at the compliment, pleased that he found my upper torso attractive, and buried my face in his shoulder. I was not feigning shyness. This was all new to me, and I felt very uncertain about my proper role and response. My assumption was that the human male took the controlling role in sexual congress and that what I needed to do was let him. But I was finding that to be inadequate. First, I felt like I should be doing something besides lie there. More, I felt I wanted to do something, too. And I could sense that Eddie was uncertain in the face of my passivity.

The answer was poking me in the side. Eddie had slipped his arm around my shoulders again and was cradling me against his chest, one hand cupping my breast, his thumb stroking over the top and across the nipple, which was swelling and sticking out and sending pleasant, throbbing tingles through my body.

My nipples weren't the only thing swelling and throbbing. I could feel Eddie's male organ against my hip, a sizable lump that stiffened and relaxed and stiffened again. Tentatively, I slid my hand from his waist to the front of his pants and traced along the swelling with a finger.

"Ummmmm," Eddie moaned, and kissed me more deeply. That seemed encouraging, so I wrapped my fingers around the lump, surprised by its length and girth. It was quite a bit larger than illustrations had led me to believe.

"Oooh, jeez," Eddie gasped, breaking the kiss just enough to murmur against my lips. "That feels really good!"

He moved his hips back and forth, which made his penis slide inside my loose grip. Assuming that was pleasurable, I mimicked the move, sliding my hand back and forth, and was rewarded with another gasp. I was surprised to feel pleased by my ability to give him pleasure.

Eddie's lips were all over my exposed flesh -- at the small hollow at the base of my throat, at the back of my jaw, at the opening of my ear where his breath sparked new tingles and the probing tip of his tongue caused a shudder, at my breasts where he sucked and nibbled and made more sparks course through me.

Gently, Eddie slid me across his lap and onto the sofa seat. He kissed me again, pushing his tongue deep into my mouth, and put his hand on my knee. His fingers caressed the inside, stroking lightly. It felt very nice to have him do that. I was again surprised at this body and the unexpected pleasures that touches in various locations produced.

As it turned out, the pleasure was repeated, even intensified, at other locations along my inner leg as Eddie slowly stroked and tickled his way higher. I let my legs relax and gap open, allowing him easier access. It was pretty clear where he was headed, and I was interested in the result.

"Do you like that?" Eddie whispered in my ear.

"Ummmm," I answered. "Oh, yes. It feels... delicious." I could feel his lips smile against my ear, and then he stuck the tip of his tongue into the canal, again. I was growing fond of that move, which always sent tingles running up and down my spine.

Eddie's fingers inched higher, up between my thighs. As I had surmised, he was working his way up to my sex organ. He seemed tentative and cautious, as if I might at any moment push him away. I had no intention of removing his hand, which was producing increasingly strong feelings -- strange sensations that were completely novel to my experience. If anything, I was more likely to grab his wrist and pull his hand up to the target, eliminating the delay. On the other hand, I was enjoying the slow, sensuous approach. I was content to let him take his time. I spread my legs a little wider, allowing my dress to rise up nearly to my crotch.

Eventually, his fingers got there. Eddie slid a finger under the elastic of my undergarment, ran it through the hair above my sex and down along the side, then brought it back across and stroked down along the other side. I strained my hips forward, willing him to touch it in the center. Instead, he withdrew his finger and returned his hand to my upper thigh, where he stroked and tickled some more.

Finally, though, he moved his hand upward and cupped it over my sex organ. My hips pushed forward against his touch as though they were operating independently of me. Not that I tried to stop them. Eddie's fingers pressed firmly against me and wriggled back and forth, making the lips of my sex rub together. I found it both enjoyable and frustrating. It wasn't quite enough. I wanted his hand under the fabric, not on top of it. I wanted it to touch me THERE, flesh against flesh.

Then, finally, Eddie slid his hand up to the waistband. His fingers wiggled their way under the elastic and crept downward through the curly hair that covered my pubis. The anticipation I felt was almost unbearable.

Instead of touching the nearest point -- the top of the opening, which I could already tell was especially sensitive -- Eddie spread his fingers into a V and pushed them down along either side. Gently, lightly, his middle finger came to rest on the vertical slit between my thighs.

"Ahhhhhh!" The sigh came from deep inside me. Eddie increased the pressure slightly and slid his hand up and down, which made his middle finger slip between the lips of my sex. His finger probed inward, seeking and finding the small, tight channel into my body.