Aliens in our Midst

Chapter 1 – “It’s a wonderful day in the neighborhood…”

Jim Carlson was fucking me in the back seat of his Buick. He insisted on banging away atop me like some crazed lunatic, convinced that faster and harder simply MUST be better. I made the appropriate sounds and tried to seem aroused, when in reality, he had no more chance of getting me off than a ham sandwich. It wasn’t entirely his fault. He was only following the prescribed moves of every other freshman-level college male in existence. The only reason I had agreed to go out with him at all was because I was hungry as hell. Not for food mind you, but for sex. Even sloppy, non-orgasmic sex with a complete dunder-head, such as was boffing me now. Despite his lack of erotic skill, he was at least clean, mildly handsome and brushed his teeth regularly. You’d be surprised at the number of males that think girls are actually turned on by the stench of one who hasn’t bathed in two or three days. Besides, Jim had a reputation of being, shall we say, quick. I wasn’t interested in a date. I wanted someone who would get my sweater off within the first hour, and for that, Jim was my boy. Damned if he wasn’t unzipping my pants thirty-seven minutes after he picked me up in front of my house.

Just about the same time my back started to really hurt, he finally spent himself, grunting like a mule getting an enema, and came to an abrupt halt on top of me. Happiness is relative I guess, and I smiled up at him.

“Was it good?” He asked as he rolled off me, kneeing me in the thigh in the process. Why is it that men always have to ask that question? Can’t they tell? Don’t they think we lavish them with enough coddling and encouragement during sex to quench their egos? It must be a power thing that I have never fully figured out. Whatever the case, I’ve always found it best to simply lie. It makes the rest of the evening a lot more enjoyable and saves huge amounts of time in not having to explain, without destroying the poor sod, that you’ve had better, more personable sexual experiences with a cucumber.

“Ummm…” I moaned, putting on my best dreamy-eyed look. This seemed to be the correct response, and he smiled back as he pulled on his clothes. So much for afterglow. The evening went pretty much to spec from then on. He took me out to dinner- where he spent more time looking at the blonde two tables down than at me, then back to my house. There, he spent about two minutes kissing me good night, and three minutes feeling me up. I trudged back to my room feeling a bit beaten-up and bloated from dinner, not having the common sense enough to order what my stomach could handle. I always tend to substitute food-hunger for sex-hunger, which doesn’t work at all, and usually means I spend half the night awake, unable to sleep because my body is desperately trying to digest some culinary nightmare that I was stupid enough to order with my eyes and not my brain.

That was how I first met my new neighbor. It was two in the morning, and I was doing laundry down the hall in my underwear. Not many people are awake at that hour, especially in the middle of the semester, and four of the five other tenants in the old Victorian house were known to me and fairly safe. There were three females, and one gay male. It was the sixth tenant that was new, and had I known he was male, I might not have been so quick to parade around in my panties and a light T-shirt while I waited for my spin-cycle. As it was, I was mumbling under my breath, cursing my body for still being hungry, physically and sexually, while I padded to the kitchen for a snack.

With a peach in one hand, and a basket of still-warm laundry in the other, I literally bumped into him as I entered the hallway again.

“Oh! Shit!” I said, startled, looking for somewhere to run. I pulled the basket in front of me. We hadn’t completely collided. It was as though he pulled back right before I came around the corner. If he hadn’t, we would have hit quite hard I think.

“I’m sorry.” He said with concern in his voice. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“Oh, no… of course not…” I could feel my cheeks warming, but to run now would look foolish. I chose to play the cool role as best I could. I don’t think I did very well.

“I’m Paul.” He said with a smile. He held out his hand, and then frowned when he realized that both of mine were occupied.

I have no idea why I did what I did, but looking back on it, it was probably the subconscious part of my brain saying, “Hey stupid, you better take a better look at this guy!” Whatever. I quickly placed the peach in his outstretched hand and then put out my own left hand. He smiled again, and then shook hands with me. Lefts, that is.

“Susan.” I said, trying not to blush too obviously. I took a moment to look at his face and decided that my subconscious was right. It wasn’t so much that he was handsome. He was, just not in the usual ways. I couldn’t quite pin it down, even when I felt myself staring. He was… charismatic.

“Nice to meet you, Susan. You probably figured out that I’m the new renter down the hall.”

“Right.” I replied half listening to him. I was lost in his eyes, horny slut that I am.

“I’m sorry I startled you. I tend to be a bit of a night owl.”

“Oh, me too…” Damn those eyes. They were like magnets for my libido, and I could see myself in them clearly. Every detail of my face was reflected perfectly in those eyes- my neck, my chest, the points of my nipples through my T-shirt. That last fact caused me to snap back to reality, and I pulled the basket of clothes up higher.

“Uh…” I stammered. “It’s nice to meet you, Paul, but I have to get these folded.”

I started to walk back to my room, glancing back to have just one more look at those eyes. Oh god.

“Your peach.” He said as I fumbled with the knob to my door.

“Oh, no thanks.” I replied and quickly closed the door behind me. Once inside, my knees buckled and I slid to the floor, panting. After a moment, I looked down at my shirt. My nipples were swollen and clearly visible through the thin fabric. Damn! What was I thinking? Not six hours from the last time a man had penetrated me, and already I was taking this guy to bed with me mentally. Hell, I could clearly see him fucking my brains out. What was it about him that got me so wet? I mean, I’m a nympho, and I know it, but most guys have all the sexual charm of a leafblower. So what set this guy apart?

It wasn’t his looks, I decided. Like I said before, he was handsome, but not in any way that would stand him out as Mr. Universe. His eyes were certainly different in some way, and although I knew that looking into them made me want to jump him right there – they weren’t it either. At least not fully. So what was it?

I never did get to my clothes. Instead, I spent the next hour lying in bed thinking about how I was going to seduce my new neighbor, and how I was going to do it before any of the other girls in our building did. By the time my last load of clothes were dry, I had it all worked out. He wouldn’t stand a chance. I couldn’t have been more surprised.