Expedition

Anton tore his gaze away from the monitor. An August dawn was breaking outside the window. Over the distant forest, a crimson band was flaring up, stitched from below by the spiky tops of fir trees, pressed against them by leaden, flat clouds.

"Wow! I've really been working," Anton scratched the back of his head and stood up, grabbing his cigarettes. Writer's inspiration is a slippery thing; he had learned that lesson well. So, when it did strike, he would sit at the computer until the black letters on the white background began to blur into colored spots.

He went out onto the veranda, lit a cigarette with pleasure, and with tired eyes traced the line of the sunrise. Whether his vision was truly exhausted to the extreme, or the glitches from lack of sleep were starting, but he saw something. A green ray, piercing the heavy cloud, split the reddening sky beneath it in two, and following the ray—as if a white strobe flash had clanged. So sharply that Anton's teeth ached.

Anton brought the cigarette to his lips, took a drag and… his burnt fingers trembled. The cigarette had burned down to the filter! When? What, had he fallen asleep? Just like that, standing up? It seemed so—it was already fully light! Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed movement on the clearing—between the cottage fence and the forest edge. Two figures were moving towards him. Far away, couldn't make out details, but clearly one taller, the other shorter…

Anton retrieved a new cigarette from the pack—he hadn't smoked enough! Lit it and glanced there… where the figures were.

"Holy shit!" he swore because the cigarette fell from his fingers in astonishment. Those two were already at the fence! And—naked! Well, I mean, really in their birthday suits! A guy and a girl! As if nothing was wrong, standing there, looking at him… Not even out of breath!

"You… what? Who… what… what the fuck?" Anton's rich writer's vocabulary had reduced to a three-letter noun fit for a fence.

"What-the-fuck," the girl pronounced in a colorless, sexton-like baritone, measuredly. "You-what-who…"

Then she hesitated for a second and repeated in a normal female voice:

"You what? Who, what, what the fuck?… We are your guests from another planet. We need contact, which you call by different words: sex, fucking, screwing, f…"

Anton gaped at this naked wonder. The girl was clearly trying to smile, but she wasn't very good at it. And the guy didn't even try. He stood like a post and didn't even blink.

"Are you, like, escaped from the loony bin?" Anton inquired not without reason: it was just a stone's throw from here to Belye Stolby if you got a running start.

And suddenly he shuddered, peering at the faces of the "psychos." Good grief, the girl was Angelina Jolie and Ekaterina Guseva in one glass! And the guy looked simultaneously like a young Antonio Banderas and Brad Pitt!

Anton was overcome by a premonition of something unprecedented, incredible. He made a decision:

"Guys, stop dicking around, come into the house. Before the neighbors wake up. If they wake up—they'll freak out at the sight of you! They'll definitely call the nuthouse! Then you'll get… f…"

Whoa! The guests were immediately next to him on the veranda. Anton felt considerable shock, but it was no wonder he loved science fiction: telekinesis and all that teleportation didn't seem like such an impossible thing to him. He quickly recovered and thought that yes, this morning definitely promised him a lot of interesting things.

In the hall, the guests were seated side by side on the sofa, and a proper interrogation began.

"Where are you from anyway?"

"…," the guy spoke for the first time. It's useless to convey what he vocalized with human letters. It won't work anyway.

And the girl added:

"There's no point in specifying; for you, these are empty sounds. We are simply from another world."

"Why are you naked?"

"As far as we know, you 'screw' without clothes. Therefore, we did not load the transfer device with things. Transfer requires a lot of energy."

"Why are you so interested in our sex? I mean 'screwing'? You're exactly like us, I had time to look. Can't you do it yourselves?"

The girl's answer amazed Anton:

"Our race does not have 'screwing'… sex. By your count, for about… two million years. Our appearance is simply a way to make contact without causing negative reactions in you. We can be different."

"How so?" Anton was bewildered. Finally, the terrible meaning of what was said fully dawned on him: NO SEX! "How do you live… how… haven't you died out?"

"Sexual reproduction is too wasteful and unreliable a method of reproduction. An ancient highly developed race cannot afford it," the guy spoke up.

Or—"guy"? Anton thought that in that case, the gender difference between the guests was purely conditional, something like a costume: like this now, and an hour later—different…

"Then what the f… why do you want to fuck?"

The aliens exchanged glances for about three seconds, and the "girl" replied:

"We study the evolution of the universe. We have a task to find out how reproduction occurs in intelligent but underdeveloped beings. For this, we formed bodies completely identical to yours at the molecular level. Theoretically, we know that the male fertilizes the female's egg with the help of a spermatozoon. But we do not know how the spermatozoon is generated and how it is delivered to the egg. Information about how this happened in the era of sexual reproduction was lost during the last war."

Hmm… situation… So much for the first contact in human history with an extraterrestrial civilization! Hmm, but they are, perhaps, a real guy and girl… if at the molecular level…

Anton decided that he would definitely help the guests from another world understand the problem they were interested in. And for the first time, he looked at them as normal people. Inexperienced, naive, but—real.

The guy was about one meter eighty-three to eighty-five tall, well-built, dark blond, brown eyes. A common type, if not for the resemblance to two actors at once.

The girl… Now the girl—that was something! About one meter seventy-five, breasts—size three or a bit smaller, firm-looking, with nipples of perfect shape and size. Brunette with gray eyes. Long legs, narrow waist. And her face! The impression was that at certain moments it was Angelina Jolie's face, but if you looked a moment later—it was Ekaterina Guseva's. Anton had long been in a state of permanent delight from both of them…

He estimated the "age" of the aliens to be about twenty—twenty-two years.

Anton stood up and moved towards the bar. Thinking that it seemed a bit early to drink, he turned to the guests. They rose from the sofa and looked at the host with interest.

"Guys, I'll explain everything to you… But first, let's at least have some coffee."

"And can we conduct the experiment?" the girl asked. She, as Anton noticed, was generally the leader in the duo. The guy behaved passively, was silent, and moved little.

Anton involuntarily glanced at their genitals. Well, well, no pubic hair was observed. On the guy—an ordinary penis of an ordinary man. Uncircumcised, the foreskin tightly closed at the tip. The girl's labia looked very touching. Plump, smooth, slightly protruding forward, split by a perfectly straight slit. Looks cute and very girlish!

No wonder, Anton thought, for conducting research they formed ideal bodies. Of course, the question is serious for them. I wonder, what size is the guy's penis in an erect state? If it gets erect, of course.

While the host was fussing at the kitchen counter, conjuring coffee, the aliens watched his every move attentively. Probably, they thought the explanation of how to "screw" had already begun. Anton made an effort—the coffee turned out exceptionally aromatic and strong. Black as night, hot as love, and sweet as sin! And with it—bitter chocolate. The extraterrestrials liked the treat very much.

"We don't have anything like that," the girl complained. "We have special injectors for introducing energetic substances into the body."

Anton didn't want to clarify in detail how that happens for them. What's interesting about pouring

gas into a tank?

From the sight of the charming naked girl, so similar to two women of his dreams at once, he began to get a little turned on.

"And… You don't have names either?"

"You mean identifiers? Yes. But they are not pronounced aloud. We simply feel them."

"Then I'll call you Katya, okay? And you—Brad. Deal? I'm Anton Pavlovich, or just Anton."

"We know your identifier. We hear it: Anton Pavlovich Kirsanov," Katya replied. "I also hear that you've started to feel good towards me."

Holy cow, flashed through Anton's mind, they read thoughts! Started to feel good? Ha! I want you like…

"Anton, how do you want me?" it seemed Katya had looked right into his brain! "Changes are happening in your body right now. Why?"

Why did I get hard? Oh, girl… How else? You need a spermatozoon? Need to deliver it to its destination? No way without this! That's it, sweetie…

Anton didn't say any of this out loud. Did the aliens understand his thoughts or not? He decided not to dwell on it: he can't just not think at all! And not all human concepts are accessible to them yet.

"Well then, young people, let's begin our lessons," Anton gestured with his hand for the guests to get up from the sofa. "Katya, kiss Brad to start."

"How is that?" the extraterrestrials looked at the host like extraterrestrials.

"Touch his lips with your lips, run your tongue in his mouth, suck his lips a little… And you, Brad, do the same. Well, let's go!"

At first, the aliens were hindered by their noses, then by unnecessary synchronization of actions. But intelligent beings learn quickly: in about three minutes, they were kissing like real earthlings. Anton's erection intensified. But only Anton's. The guy, Brad, apparently felt nothing, his penis hung as if nothing was wrong. There was considerable distance between the guests; they didn't touch each other with anything except their lips. Anton stood up and pressed them together. The guests, like diligent students, continued the exercise.

"Come on, come on," Anton touched Katya's nipple with his finger. Soft, relaxed… "And here how?" and his palm slid into the girl's crotch. Alas, it was dry.

"Do you feel changes?"

Katya stopped the kiss:

"Only yours, Anton. Right now, you feel even better towards me."

Thanks a lot, Katya… My dick is literally ringing from tension… And they don't care! Asexuals, damn them… Well, the first pancake came out lumpy… Need something radical. Maybe become a player-coach?

"Katya, sit down. Like this, move your butt a little towards me, more, more. Brad, kneel next to her. Closer. Yeah… A little more. Don't be afraid, you won't hit her in the eye, your gun isn't loaded. Katyusha, take the penis with your lips. Yes, that's the penis. Yes, you're right, it's called a dick. What gun? Oh, I was joking. Later, later I'll explain what joking is. Well, go on, suck… Well, how hard… like this, medium. That's a smart girl, and hold the testicles with your hand! Wow, how quickly you learn!"

Anton watched this educational blowjob, clumsy and fruitless, for a minute. Brad's nature did not react and did not erect.

Kneeling before Katya, Anton spread her thighs and touched his lips to the soft and warm split bun. Dry…

Katya didn't smell. That is, only the scent of a gentle child emanated from her, unexpected in this place. Well, yes, flashed through Anton's head, the body is brand new, its age—an hour at most.

His tongue ran over the halves of the bun, went down, dived into the crevice, and, vibrating, moved up along it. And down again. Back and forth, back and forth… not approaching the coveted corner at the top, where the plump lips meet. With each movement, the tongue deepened between them, gradually, millimeter by millimeter.

It didn't immediately dawn on Anton that the gorge along which his tongue was wandering was no longer dry, but wet and slippery. And the inner lips had swelled, peeking out. And a pink bud appeared from under its hood. And Katya was moving her butt towards the tongue, clearly trying to touch her hardened bead with it.

A slight movement, and they met. The tip of the tongue circled the base, once, twice, three times… Anton felt a hand on the back of his head, pressing his face to the gorge, rapidly filling with juice.

And how are things with Brad? The player-coach raised his eyes heavenward.

Things with Brad were fine. The penis was standing so that Brad and Katya were bending it away from his stomach with both hands to keep it in her mouth.

Anton returned to the caresses. His cheeks and chin were wet, moisture was dripping down his neck. Katya's body suddenly tensed, and she convulsively moved her pelvis. Almost immediately, a lustful male groan was heard…

When the girl finally released Anton's head, he could assess the success of the first experiment. The aliens' faces expressed astonishment and delight. Katya's lips, cheeks, neck, and chest were covered in thick, creamy semen. Drops glistened in her hair too.

"W-well, the experiment succeeded… halfway," the host of the house hoarsely stated, tormented by his erection, "spermatozoon generation was successful, but delivery to the destination didn't work out… Next time we'll focus on delivery."

"And when will the next time be?" Katya inquired. "We have little time. By your count, about two hours."

"That's enough," Anton assured. "What are the impressions?"

And Katya launched into explanations that first she only heard Anton's good feeling towards her, so strong, as if he wanted to unite with her, then pleasant changes began in her body, and she also began to feel good towards Anton and Brad. And Brad also began to feel good towards her. And she wanted them to feel better and better towards her, and to unite with her. Then… then she felt especially good, but for some reason, she doesn't remember it well… And what is this on her mouth and face?

"That's the sperm. Brad generated it. What do you say, Brad?"

The guy recounted that at first he didn't hear anything, then he felt that Katya felt good towards him, and he also began to feel good towards her, and the organ that Katya was holding in her mouth began to harden and stretch, and that they needed to unite, but Anton was in the way, and suddenly liquid sprayed from the organ right into Katya's mouth…

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