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And the sunny side tells me that I should fix my hair and wear a cute tunic just in case Hrrrusek shows up again. I practice his name, purring the “rrr” sound like he did, and play our conversation through my head again. Not a fisherman, that one. My guess is that he grew up in a city—or on a station—and has never gone fishing. I wonder what he thinks of this planet? I wonder what he thinks of, well, everything?
I wonder what he thinks of me?
Men are few and far between on this planet. Again, totally cool with that. I’m happy just to have my farm and a means to make a living. Butthe flirting unlocked a bit of yearning inside me, reminding me that I’m a woman in the prime of my life, and I still have needs. I thought I was fulfilling those needs with a handheld bot specifically for such needs, but maybe that’s not enough after all. I fluff my long hair and put on a tunic with a low neckline, since he seemed to like my cleavage.
Flirting never hurt anyone, right? It doesn’t have to go anywhere. It certainly doesn’t have to go anywhere with a praxiian, who probably doesn’t like farming. Or humans. But if he shows up at the fishing hole again, fantastic. I’ll be ready.
If not, well, then I move on and I try to catch the Big Daddy fish that I know is in the belly of the stream.
I head for the bedroom to pull on shoes when my perimeter alerts ping. Curious, I tap on a control panel in the wall and review the security feed. There’s a big, furry pair of orange-and-cream shoulders on my porch, his head bent, and my heart skips a beat. How did he know where I lived? That’s impressive. Racing over to my bathroom mirror, I check my hair (and cleavage) again while I wait for him to knock.
When the knock doesn’t come, I head back into the living room and pause by the door. The shadow he’s casting tells me that he’s still out there, but is he trying to get up his courage to knock? Is he…shy? I think of the way his whiskers twitched when a fish touched his foot and how he’d raced out of the stream. It was adorable, and I still chuckle at the memory.
Maybe if he’s shy I need to remind him that I’m not.
I open the door to greet him.
As I pull the door open, something hot and wet sprays across my front, splattering on my tits.
Hrrrusek stares at me in shock.
Four
HRRRUSEK
Well this is a keffing nightmare.
The pretty human has caught me, hand on cock, as I spray my load over her door to mark my territory. Worse than that…she’s standing in the line of fire, and my seed sprays all over her skin and the front of her tunic. A drop even lands on her chin.
Her mouth falls open and her gaze drops to my cock, the head flushed and dripping with my release, my hand gripping tight just behind the crown.
“I…I…” I stammer, not sure what to say to make things better.
“What are you doing?” Chelsea breathes, gazing at me with big eyes. Her hand moves to her teats and she touches a wet rope of my release that glazes her skin, and I groan, squeezing my cock harder at the sight, because I can’t seem to stop myself.
“I’m…marking your door.” I manage to grit the words out even as I give my cock one last squeeze to get the last of my seed out. She just watches me with a fascinated expression, her fingers rubbing against the seed I left on her teats. I move to stare at the bead on her chin, because it’s the most lewd and fascinating thing I’ve ever seen. “You weren’t supposed to open it.”
To my surprise, she laughs. “No one told me.”
She’s…laughing? Smiling? A stranger just jerked off on her door and she’s wearing my release all over her (pretty) teats and she’s laughing? Either she’s incredibly bold or absolutely reckless, but I’m relieved she isn’t pulling a blaster on me. “If I tell you, you might not give me a chance to court you.”
Chelsea’s gaze meets mine, and I realize she’s been watching me work my cock just as much as I’ve been staring at her. “Did you…want to come in?”
“To do what?” I blurt out. Does she not know how praxiian courting rituals work? “I’m finished here.”
She chuckles, and gestures at the kitchen. “Well, I’m going to clean off. Unless that’s not allowed?”
“No—it’s allowed. I wasn’t supposed to hit you. Just your door.”
“Ah.” She bites her lip and studies me, her gaze dipping down to my cock, still half-hard. “You might want to wash your hands.”
“I might. You sure you want me to come in?”
“Are you going to mark my furniture?”
“Kef no.”
“Then yes, you can come in.” Her mouth twitches again and she opens the door wider, stepping back.
