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All of my writing is intended for adults over the age of 18 ONLY. Stories may contain strong or even extreme sexual content. All people and events depicted are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Actions, situations, and responses are fictional ONLY and should not be attempted in real life. If you are giving head under the age or 18 or do not understand the difference between fantasy and reality or if you reside in any state, province, nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century. Archiving and reposting of this story is permitted, but only if acknowledgment of copyright and statement of limitation of use is included with the article. This story is copyright (c) 2018 by The Technician . Individual readers may archive and/or print single copies of this story for personal, non-commercial use. Production of multiple copies of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format is expressly forbidden. What would you do if a childhood friend sent you a long, rambling email about kinky sex with aliens? That’s what recently happened to me. The only reason I can think of that he would do so is that he knows I’ve seen a lot of weird shit and written about even more really strange stuff so I would probably believe him. Also, he knows how many stories I post and I am pretty sure he expected me to publish his email on some of my story sites. In fact, he even gave me the name to use for the story. He says it’s true– hell, it might be, but I can’t ask him for further proof. No one has seen him since about a week before I got this email from him and the reply address comes up as invalid. I tried to back trace the IP and it also comes up as invalid. Despite not being able to verify anything, I decided to publish it exactly as he wrote it and let you decide for yourself. Maybe it will stir some deep, forgotten memory of gray beings with big black eyes... and the feeling that you had some really fantastic sex somewhere but you can’t remember where. The email reads as follows: W, I am sending this to you because oral you will believe me. No one else believes blowjob me. They say I am imagining all this or that I am having some sort of strange seizures. I can understand why big they would say that. I do have seizures– or I used to. Whenever I have to fill out a medical form and it asks, “Have you ever been knocked unconscious?” I answer “Yes.” Then where it says, “Provide specific details” I say, “See attached page.” tits We grew up together, W. You know that I was always the one who fell out of the tree or off the cliff or got hit by a car or conked in the head with a line drive or was still lying on the grass when the rest of the team went back to the huddle. I wonder if... next time... ‘Hows this? “I mean it”, said Katie. With one last steady look at her smiling face I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep. “Watch Commander Dafian, you’ve customized yourself.” She mused, giving head looking at my tattoos, “There’s a sword, and skull, and a… what is that?” She asked, looking at the illustration that disappeared beneath my robe. The nurse smiled and then went to Marisa and began to stroke Marisa’s pussy and clit as Joanie screamed as the excitement overwhelmed her to another orgasm. "Ya..." she whispered unable to look at me. "I have wanted to go out with blowjob him for a while but I have been too scared and after the car incident I felt like damaged goods." He waiting at his jeep for his girlfriend, Katie Collins, the 5'3" Blonde bombshell cheerleader. I giggled. Out of the corner of your eye you see me going to the bathroom and return with a small hand towel and immediately you know what this means. He closed the door to the classroom and turned the lock over. With her arms around my neck, sitting sideways on my lap . . . I stretched my back, debating going to bed when a soft knock came oral at my door. I just had to swoop in and— “Pasties? When I only nodded, she continued. Twice, we didn't even come out of the bedroom tits long enough for dinner. Sarah grabbed another towel and wrapped up big her own hair, securing it to her head. Cassy moaned, her eyes shooting wide as her father took his place between her spread legs and pressed his tongue to her vulva. “You should stroke your nipples,” Dixie told her.