Page 21 of Clonely You

“A-absolutely.” I’m tripping over my tongue at the thought of her touching me without the fabric between us.

She slides back on my thighs and her hand goes to my belt, tapping at the auto-fastener to activate it. The belt whirrs and sheaths itself inside the buckle, and the moment it loosens, I can breathe again. Didn’t realize just how tight my trou were. I take a deep lungful of air and relax, watching her expression as she loosens my clothing. Is she going to be repulsed by me? Does she have expectations that I will be built like some of the larger alien races? I hope not. I’m well-endowed for an a’ani…but I am still a’ani.

The fastener on my trou slides down and my cock springs free of its confines, protruding from the vee of my clothing. I watch as her eyes widen. She touches my cock, and when I hiss,she pulls the fabric free so she can see all of my length, including my sac.

“Well, now,” she murmurs.

I don’t know if that is good or bad. My hands clench on the arms of the chair. “Tell me I do not disappoint you.”

Her gaze flicks up to mine. “You absolutely do not disappoint me. You’re the perfect size and you don’t have any weird stuff going on, which I appreciate.”

Weird stuff? I’m not certain what she was expecting, but I’m glad that I please her. “If you want me to get piercings, I can?—”

“Hush. I like you just like you are. There’s no need to change for me.” Her fingers wrap around my shaft and she gives me the smallest squeeze. It’s the best sensation ever, and I nearly come in that moment. I clench every muscle in my body to keep from losing control.

But then Michaela runs her fingers over the head of my cock. “No foreskin, hmm?”

I shrug. Don’t know what that is either. “Is it something you need?”

“It isn’t important. Was just curious.” She tickles a finger against the divot in the center of my cock. “Tell me what you like, Aithar.”

“You.”

Her throaty chuckle is the most delicious sound. “I meant, what kind of touches do you like?”

It would be impossible to choose. “Everything.”

One delicate brow goes up. “Any particular fantasies?”

“You touching me.”

Michaela giggles at that, shaking her head. “You are far too easy to please, Aithar.”

“Very easy.” In her hands, I want for nothing.

“Well, lucky for you, I have an idea.” She taps the head of my cock, sending a shiver up my spine, and gets off my lap.

I want to protest, because her abandoning me is not what I had in mind. “Where are you going?”

“To get something.” She casts a wicked look at me over her shoulder. “Be patient and stay right there. I’m coming back.”

Is she? Good. I shift my weight in the chair, impatient. After a bit of restless twitching, I decide to pull off my ridiculous tunic. It’s cut too low to be useful anyhow, and I want Michaela to be able to touch me all over. I sling it off over my head and ponder if I should remove my trou, too. That might be entirely too much naked flesh for her, so I opt to leave them on, even if I want nothing more than to get completely naked. I want to feel her when she sits on me again.

Michaela returns from the lavatory a moment later with a bottle in her hand. She gives it a demonstrative little shake and eyes me. “How do we feel about lotion?”

“My skin is not dry.”

“I don’t know, I touched you in a spot that’s hot and dry. It could use a little moisture.” And she leans in and trails a finger along the underside of my shaft.

My cock jerks in response, and I suck in a shocked breath. “You want to lotion my cock?”

“Lubricant feels good. Trust me.”

I know it does. I’ve greased up my own cock in the shower and shamefully jerked it until release, but I never imagined that Michaela would do such a thing for me. It seems as if it’s something that is entirely for my pleasure and not hers, but I don’t want to complain. Not if this is what she wants. “Is this…a normal thing between lovers?”

“Oh god, yes.” She chuckles, squeezing a dollop of lotion onto her hand before setting the bottle on the floor. I’m entranced as she rubs her hands together, smoothing the lotion over them in calm, certain strokes. Her fingers are long and elegant, and I’m fascinated at the wet gleam of them as she reaches for mycock. Then she hesitates before touching me. “You’re not going to come, are you?”

I groan, because I just might. “I do not want to, but I might not be able to help myself.”

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