City of Angels

Copyright PennameWombat June 2019

The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

This is my entry for the 'National Nude Day Contest, 2019'. National Nude Day is July 14 (in the United States).

This is a stand-alone story although that doesn't mean it has absolutely no relationship to any other stories.

Tags: Cunnilingus, Exhibitionist, Female Masturbation, Girl on Girl, Her First Time, Horror, MFM, Mind Control, NonHuman, Outdoor Sex

*****

From the Pages of Alfred Kinsey

Her first stop in the sprawling, multi-tiered building that housed the vast array of printed volumes in the library had been the history section. Despite the heat she'd enjoyed the hour and a bit it had taken her to walk here from her little lair, her apartment. She'd seen such a variety of these humans frolicking on this Saturday, their day of leisure she understood, old, young, in all manner of clothing, their skin, hair and eyes a wonderful rainbow of colors. She'd heard languages which she could not understand, Janet had spoken only this English. So limited, so, so limited had been poor Janet. She'd smiled at the young, the children, they'd laughed and squealed at her and had run off in their play and antics.

She'd purchased an 'ice cream' as she'd walked, a partially frozen foodstuff made from the maternal secretion of an animal. A cow they called it. Milk. Ah. It was delicious. This milk is what these 'breasts' of hers would provide to her own young. This was the way of this world, then, the way men and women of all the creatures on this strange, new planet worked.

She'd touched them, but carefully, already aware of limitations in this society. The bones of a plan formed in her mind, she'd fed well the previous evening, Marsha had been good to her, but she needed more.

She'd asked one of the 'librarians', apparently this was one place where elderly women were sent, those with no more ability to birth young. They acted as guides to the information of this society. She'd smiled at the grey-haired woman's lined face, the rough skin dotted with small darker spots here and there, the woman had smiled back and had a friendly voice and her grey hair was held back from her face with a cloth band. She saw few other people in the library on this clear, bright summer day.

"If you want it all in one go," the old woman's voice had a slight shake in it, as if she'd lacked energy to talk easily, "you'll want the World History Omnibus Reader, that'll be in aisle 14, just that way."

She'd pointed.

"Oh, thank you," Janet had said, "that sounds perfect."

It had been. These humans had slaughtered tens, no, hundreds of millions of their own kind in regular and periodic frenzies of aggression. She was lucky. She'd arrived in a time and place of rare peace. No wonder the race that she and her mate had so recently fled from were so concerned, so careful in their plans.

But for her and her missing mate, such creatures were perfect. They would fit right in.

But they'd need to be careful. These humans loved to destroy each other, but mainly in these rituals they called 'war'. Interesting.

She'd presented the small piece of printed paper she'd found in Janet's purse and the book to the librarian, who'd smiled and made note, used a metal device to stamp a date two weeks in the future in the book.

"Enjoy your studies," she'd said.

"I will," she'd slid the book into the bag she'd brought, it had a long strap that fit over her shoulders, "where can I find 'health' books, please?"

"Those will be up on three," the friendly old woman had said, pointed to a wide set of stairs, "they can guide you to what you need up there."

"Thank you," she'd said in what she understood was a light, cheerful tone, turned and walked.

She'd met another old woman at a desk on three, the woman was dressed similarly to the first in a dark single piece covering to her knees with her legs covered by the same thin material. This one's grey hair was piled tightly on top of her head in a round ball, a 'bun'.

But the old woman had grown angry and her face had gone tight. Her eyes became almost slits when Janet had asked 'where can I find the Kinsey Reports?' Marsha had told her these would tell her what she wanted to know.

She hadn't known why this librarian was so unlike the first. Was it not their job to guide people to information?

The confusing woman had finally said, barely opened her mouth, 'young people today', but had pointed to aisle 32. Fortunately that had taken her out of sight of the angry old woman at her desk.

She'd found the two volumes, one for men, one for women. She'd also found a separate volume, The Female Body. She understood her organs now, their role in mating, their monthly pattern. She knew how to control them.

She knew that her sensitive spot was a clitoris. A word that was unknown to Janet, unwanted.

She'd sped through the books so far, Janet was limited, blinkered, in her views, but her intelligence had been high by the standards of these humans. Why she hadn't used it, had so limited herself, was a mystery. Focused now as it was she could absorb this printed information rapidly.

She'd noticed the young man. He'd walked past her table as his eyes had lingered on her breasts and on the books in front of her. She'd seen his eyebrows quickly rise and fall as he'd apparently read the titles, the edges of his mouth did likewise. She'd undone first one button, then a second, as she'd noticed his approaches to her table. The large, round shapes, contained in the bra, were now visible. His breathing rate had increased. The information this Kinsey told her about men and women had caused her own breathing to increase, she'd felt moisture spread from the opening in her crotch onto the thin garment that covered her there. Last night she'd been with a woman and now she better understood the feelings, the pleasure, she'd felt.

She also had an idea why the other women in the office had reacted to Marsha's approach to her, why Janet had seen Marsha as wrong. Why? Yes, such was not mating, would not produce young. But, pleasure. It was just as important.

So. This man. Clearly younger than George, but no child. Handsome, unblemished, strong. His approach was familiar and universal, he was checking if he was walking into a trap. His worry was if her mate was hidden, looked for this challenge to prove himself.

She looked around. Few other people, but. This spot. Too open. She saw him to her side, he walked slowly, angled such that his eyes were on her. She turned slightly, smiled, looked at him, then away. He did likewise. She stood slowly, left her bag, the books, walked away from him, turned, looked back quickly, then walked slowly between two large multi-leveled shelves of books. The far end was a solid wall, an area hidden from most angles.

She unbuttoned her blouse as she walked, he was not in sight. Yet. He would be, unless she'd badly misunderstood the books and her own native senses. She was most of the way to the end of the aisle when she reached behind her, lowered the zipper on the soft, flowing 'summer skirt' she'd found in Janet's closet. She held the waistband and lowered the skirt, stepped out of it to expose her bare legs, her feet still in the soft, comfortable 'sneakers' she'd worn for the extended walking of the day. She reached behind herself under the open blouse and unhooked her bra, she slid her shirt off and the bra followed, she held one in each hand, the nipples on her large, round, firm breasts tingled. Her long, red hair tickled the now bare skin of her back and her shoulders.

She heard two rapid intakes of breath to her right. She tensed, but forced herself to stay calm, turned. Saw through openings on the shelves two women, similar in age to her, one with dark hair, the other's the yellow they called blonde here. Their skin was like hers, light, but theirs had that darkening caused by their sun's ultraviolet light that so worried her previous hosts. She saw the mouths of these two women gape open as they saw her near nakedness. She focused her eyes tightly, caught theirs, they stood without movement.

"Do not be alarmed," she said, without moving her eyes she placed her shirt and bra onto a shelf, "am I not attractive?"

The two women blinked, but didn't turn away. She had them. She was certain, believed at least, that their memories would be obscured, poor, their drive to mate would force all else away. Today would be a test.

"The question," she said slowly, made her voice as deep as she could, "is not why am I naked. Why are we not all naked?"

She kept their eyes connected and pushed down her last garment, the underwear. She shook her lower body, felt them fall to her feet and stepped out of them then nudged them aside. She heard another gasp, at the end of the aisle, the young man. No worry. She turned her body a quarter turn toward him, so he could see her in part, kept her eyes on the women.

"Do you have mates in this building?"

The two women nodded slowly.

"Go to them, do as I have done, mate with them. Here in this place of knowledge. Learn from them. Teach them. Find other women. Tell them. Guide them."

The black pupils of the women shrank, brown and grey eyes stared. But their mouths smiled, they both reached up. As she'd had on, they both had sleeveless blouses that they began to unbutton. They had on leg coverings that ended just below their knees, similar to what men wore. Janet had such in her closet, called them 'pedal pushers', but why would she want to wear what men wore? She was a woman.

She turned her body slightly more toward the young man, who stood stock still, his breathing rapid as he stared at her. She lifted her right hand, held it palm up with the fingers out, curled the one finger in a manner she'd seen the previous evening, she sensed his movement, slow, very slow.

"Go now," she said to the two women, their blouses halfway unbuttoned, their bras visible, "find your mates."

They nodded, turned, walked the opposite way. She turned her body now to face the young man, his mouth was open, his breathing rapid. He walked stiffly.

"Have you never seen a woman's body before?" she kept her voice deep, slow.

He blinked, seemed to master himself slightly.

"Not one as lovely as you," he said, his own voice choppy, unsure, but getting stronger.

She put her hands out, palms slightly angled, a gesture she'd learned was an invitation. He came closer, his eyes darted, he'd seen the women leave but he obeyed. She exhaled slowly to control herself as he took her hands. He had mated, but barely, he had no regular mate, was young, was still on the hunt.

Perfect. She needed to be careful though. He was slightly taller than her, physically stronger, he could do her harm.

She pulled him close, leaned her head back, he understood and put his mouth on hers to kiss. She released his one hand, reached down to his crotch, felt his stiff flesh through the cloth 'trousers' that covered it. He exhaled into her mouth. As Marsha had done to her she pushed her tongue into his mouth, he did the same, pushed his, they rubbed, wrapped around each other's. He released her hand, pulled her tightly against his body, her hand went around his waist. Her other worked his belt, the button, the zipper. Clumsy for a moment, then smooth. She reached under the waistband of his panties, felt his tangle of hair and then the bare, hard flesh. She judged the size, she knew where it would go. It would be tight. It would press on nerves.

Good.

His trousers dropped to the floor, pulled by gravity. He backed off slightly, his eyes opened. She moved both hands to his shirt, undid buttons, he licked his lips, the tip of his erect flesh, his cock, shaft, prick, pressed against her flesh at the top of her own tuft of red, tightly curled pubic hair.

"You're so beautiful," he said between panted breaths, "such lovely red hair."

She smiled, leaned in and kissed his chest which was covered by widely spaced dark hairs. Then she kissed her way down his torso, his hands on her shoulders, her back.

She put her mouth on his prick and he jumped, exhaled sharply. She pushed her lips further, sucked more of it in as his fingers tightened on her and then one set wrapped themselves in her loose, long hair and pulled it as she sucked him deeper. She heard Janet's increased moan as she sucked more of his flesh into her mouth but her control had improved. She liked Janet's emotions now, they were fun. But they no longer affected her as they had a day earlier.

Kinsey had taught her that she could make this man ejaculate this way. His hard flesh would expel his seed after some unpredictable amount of time.

She wanted his seed. She would not use it to create young, she would learn from it, but not this way. Not this time. She'd taste it this way later. She pulled her mouth off, he moaned, tried to urge her head back but she kissed her way back up his torso.

"I want you inside of me, lay down," she said very softly just before she kissed his mouth again, she pulled back, looked into his eyes. She pushed his shirt off, dropped it onto the floor beside them. He held her as he bent his knees to squat, then sat and rolled himself onto his back. She put her feet either side of him, squatted as well, kept her eyes locked on his.

Good. The riskiest part of her plan approached. Her timing would need to be perfect.

Poised over him, his hands rubbed her large breasts, pinched and pulled roughly at her nipples as they grew. She felt the pleasure, the slight pain. It was just what she needed. Marsha had been too soft, too tender at them.

She enjoyed that Janet had gone silent with a sense of fearful anticipation.

She used a hand to hold his flesh steady and placed her opening at its tip. She pushed down, felt a sharp pressure, a momentary pain, then pleasure as she sank down to fully engulf his prick.

Only she heard Janet's scream, her cries, her complaint of the wrongness of this act different but no less strident than the previous evening. You silly, silly woman. This was exquisite, she lifted and pushed herself down again, felt his flesh touch her, intrude into her body. It was wonderful. She felt her body produce liquid. It ran out of her over this man and soaked his pubic hair and his testicles, where his seed was produced. She put her hands on his chest.

"Pinch my nipples," she said in a deep, rough voice, "hard."

His eyebrows jumped but he obeyed. The pain drove the pleasure in her crotch further as she pumped up and down and he moved his hips. His mouth opened, he panted. She felt his flesh grow stiffer, his eyes scrunched, his fingers pinched even harder.

He was close. Good. She heard screams, yelling, voices of distress, confusion, in the distance. Real screams, not Janet's in her head. The words weren't clear but she didn't care. It was all working as she'd wanted. She prepared, he exhaled hard, she felt his hips jump and his hard flesh spasm.

She pushed down hard and felt his flesh eject his seed into her body. She rose and pressed herself down again to feel a second spurt. His mouth was open, his eyes closed, his fingers vise-like on her nipples.

Then she felt his body go limp, his flesh jerked softly as it remained in her body. His mouth formed into an open smile as he released her nipples. She grinned. Now.

She nudged his limp arms aside and removed his flesh from her body as she leaned her upper body onto him, put her mouth on his. He made a soft, calm sound that she took as a welcome to the contact. Good.

She fed. She pulled his essence, his eyes flew open, his entire body jerked, his arms flailed.

It was too late. She had him. She was more careful than the previous evening, she preserved more of his knowledge directly as he offered less nutrition. He tried to push her off, tried to punch her, but his arms had lost their strength. Screams were clear in the distance, she heard rapid footsteps of someone running.

His arms dropped to the floor either side of his body, his erect flesh stayed hard but went still against her thigh, his mouth gaped. She finished, moved fractionally from him and saw his dull, open eyes. His breathing was slow, shallow, every part of his body but his prick slack and flaccid.

She licked her lips, looked down the aisle. She saw no one but heard the yells, the commotion. She pushed her torso up and used her legs to lift, some of his seed ran from her body. No matter, she had most. She looked at his erection and saw red liquid that glistened along with the other liquids, Janet's moan at that. Yes, Janet, you were prey. Why else would I have found you when I arrived?

She saw his eyes and face were empty. No matter that either. He was not as nutritious as her meal from the previous evening but she was sated. This was a top up but more importantly she'd seen the opportunity for knowledge, a man's knowledge, and had taken it.

She stood, quickly pulled her panties back on, slid the skirt up her legs, zipped it. She was sweaty, no matter that either. The building was warm, everyone was that way and the commotion that she'd spawned meant no one would notice.

She pulled her shirt on, carried the bra to save time. She stepped past the prone man, they'd find him, deal with him.They'd find nothing, his mind gone, he'd be no witness. She smiled at that. He was no longer in that body. She stopped, looked quickly around at the end of the aisle. Saw no one. More yelling, screams, off to her right.

"Why are you naked? What are you DOING???"

Some words were clear. Her smile broadened.

She stepped quickly to her belongings. She left the anatomy book on the table but slipped the Kinsey volumes into her bag along with the history book and the bra. She knew it was against the rules to not have them recorded. No matter. She'd slip them back secretly later.

From the young man's essence she'd caught 'college' which she understood as an advanced educational institution. Janet had gone to 'secretarial college' but she didn't yet understand how many sorts of colleges there might be.

But he also considered himself a 'Trojan'. She'd seen that phrase for an ancient race of humans in the history book but it also said they'd been destroyed. Puzzles to work out.

She put her broad hat back on, shrugged. Her nipples were long, stiff, their shapes clear through the fabric.

No matter. She'd deal with that soon. Now, she needed to leave all this behind, the naked, drained man, the naked women, their mates. She walked quickly toward the noise, the way out. She saw two large men in dark blue uniforms arrive at the top of the staircase.

The bun-haired old woman, moaning and crying, directed them.

She saw a tangle, a pile, of six, no, ten, naked men and women engaged in mating at a distant point. One woman was on her hands and knees on the floor while a man behind her pumped his hips to repeatedly impale her, another knelt at her face, her open mouth sucked a hard prick into it on each thrust. Multiple women laid on the edges of tables with their legs spread and raised as men pumped their engorged flesh into them.

The uniformed men blew whistles and ran toward the pile as two more women approached from the opposite direction shedding clothes as they walked quickly. The whistling stopped as each of the newly naked women embraced an officer. After momentary hesitations their embraces were returned and both, man and woman, set to work removing the dark blue uniforms.