u/Awful_Might

You flinch and shield your eyes as the bay doors open with an aggressive hiss and the freighter is flooded with natural sunlight, something you haven't seen for weeks. Adjusting your frayed shorts and holding your boyfriend Garret tightly by his hand, you brace yourself before stepping out into the fresh air, nearly tripping as you pass into the gravity field of Terra-13. Before you is the spaceport - and beyond the massive viewing window lies the city, Opulis. Your new home.

The metromarket invades your senses with brilliant color and cacophony. Your whole life you've been surrounded at all sides by corn, your only refuge being the farmhouse you grew up in on Terra-8. The only people in your life were human, plain old Homo Sapiens. You hold Garret's hand for dear life, anxious you might be separated from him in the crowd - voices swim about overhead, polite and crass, hushed and hollering. A small crustaceous merchant hawks unfamiliar spices. Humanoids of varying shapes, sizes, colors and states of dress stream about either side of you like sheep on a hundred unknown errands. A pudgy grub-like thing puffs on a bubbling hookah as it converses with a man in a suit within a shady market stall. An old, drawn Asian man leaning over his counter full of buns and rice rolls makes eye contact with you and Garret, as if to say that he, too, needs to grasp onto something familiar. Directly nextdoor is a tall, androgynous individual covered in rough scales selling skin mags. Garret herds you gently behind him when the scaled man shouts your direction in a tone you identify as playful.

Your appetite comnands your attention and you heed it, sharing a lunch with Garrett, who smiles at you warmly and kisses you. Across the way, you notice something remarkable. An alleyway marked overhead by red lanterns, filled with what look like phone booths with pitched LED screens mostly reading "VACANT", and pocked in all sides by holes, from the size of one's fist to that of a silver dollar. One is marked "IN SERVICE || ¢80 DONO". A man, or what you believe to be a man, twelve feet tall, green and lanky in a yellow frock approaches the one in service. He presses buttons. He dumps some multicolored credits out of his pocket and into the tray. Garret asks the old man behind the counter what's happening, before the green man produces an absolutely gigantic multi-headed penis from his clothes, and inserts it into a hole.

"Newcomers?" Garret nods. The green man leans back in relaxation, hand resting on top of the booth. "In Opulis, people don't go hungry" he elaborates. "Everybody got a place to sleep, clean water. And nobody goes around pent up all the time." The green man makes bellowing, almost hyposonic moans and his head rocks back. "The booths are free, but most people donate. You just need a volunteer in there." The man slumps his forehead on the roof and retrieves his cock, shaking it like one does at a urinal before stuffing it back in his frock. You're speechless, and Garret attempts to conceal his culture shock with a chuckle. A minute later, after the man has left, a door opens and somebody emerges from one side of the booth. A girl, skinny and covered in smooth, glistening scales and bristles, flees the station sheepishly, monitoring her surroundings with her great black eyes.

If you read this far, you must be engrossed in the setting and the premise. If so, please continue reading! I want to play out a story about a girl from Terra-8, a farmworld, striking out with her beloved boyfriend to make a new life in a foreign metropolis. Opulis is literally worlds different, though. The place is busy, tight, almost overwhelming..and full of alien cock. Normal cocks that stick up. Cocks that split into parts, cocks that writhe like they have a mind of their own. Cocks that taste and smell like Garret's, and cocks that smell and taste like something she can't identify. She's nothing if not an adventurous person, and she needs to see the inside of one of those booths..she just needs to get poor Garret to hold her backpack.

I have so many ideas for this, and am looking for somebody with a fascination for the whole thing. I'd like to keep things relatively wholesome, and I'll be playing Garret, haplessly letting his girlfriend slut it up in an alien glory hole booth and doing his best to keep her safe and making sure she's having fun the whole time. If you're interested, I'd love to chat. Most relevant kinks are monsters and alien biology, exotic genitalia, size difference, cum play, and cuckolding.

We're likely states, if not countries apart. I'm not around for you to slip your thighs around my head on a lazy Saturday afternoon while Bowie plays softly in vinyl, or to kiss me sweetly and make me cum in your hand, or for me to worship at the altar of your bed while you let a real man massage the silky walls of your cunt. Or to clean up the mess afterwards.

But I would love to listen to it over the phone. Late at night. Call me when you're home from work, let me absorb your woes and annoyances, tell me about what you ate or about the pretty bird you saw out in the trees while you take yourself a nice, hot bath. Would you turn the camera on just to give me a taste, or would you tease me and leave it off?

Maybe he's a stranger, a new hookup you've been chatting with over tinder. Maybe he's an old friend of yours you've slept with for years. Maybe he's a neighbor, or your roommate. But when you ask, he's there. Tell me it's time for bed, prop me up on your nightstand or the laundry chair, and put me on mute... or tell me to be quiet so you and he can forget I'm "there." It's time for sex, and I don't want to miss it.

It always starts out quiet, all I can hear is the muffled, breathy dialogue as he divests you of your clothing, and you set to relinquishing his cock from the confines of his boxers. The giggling as he slaps his meat on your cheek, and your enthusiastic moans as you work him with your hands and your mouth. The tired creak of the springs as you crawl in bed with him, expressing your desperate need for him. You need him to fuck the shit out of you, to make you his for the night, and I'll hear everything. How good he feels in you as the bed cries out. How you want him to cum inside you, badly, and so forth. How he's been waiting to hear that from you, that it's a shame your "loser boyfriend" isn't there for fluff and cleanup duty.

Areyou on top, swiveling your hips to get every inch of his manhood right where you need it? Are you in your knees or your belly, falling into oblivion with every sweaty plap, plap, plap? Or does he have you in missionary, looking you in the eye, kissing you as you mate with him? You probably follow that order in all likelihood, as I listen obediently and take in the sing-song moans and manly grunts and growls and the smack talk thrown my way as if I'm not listening to everything. I may already be asleep, or I may be wide awake... but when it happens, I want to be present enough to witness the moment he finally unloads his plump testicles and floods your vagina as I drift off at midnight, boxer briefs full of cum.

(I hope this doesn't break the rules, I just figured this sub might be a good repository for some of my more slutty thoughts. Hope y'all enjoy:))

We're likely states, if not countries apart. I'm not around for you to slip your thighs around my head on a lazy Saturday afternoon while Bowie plays softly in vinyl, or to kiss me sweetly and make me cum in your hand, or for me to worship at the altar of your bed while you let a real man massage the silky walls of your cunt. Or to clean up the mess afterwards.

But I would love to listen to it over the phone. Late at night. Call me when you're home from work, let me absorb your woes and annoyances, tell me about what you ate or about the pretty bird you saw out in the trees while you take yourself a nice, hot bath. Would you turn the camera on just to give me a taste, or would you tease me and leave it off?

Maybe he's a stranger, a new hookup you've been chatting with over tinder. Maybe he's an old friend of yours you've slept with for years. Maybe he's a neighbor, or your roommate. But when you ask, he's there. Tell me it's time for bed, prop me up on your nightstand or the laundry chair, and put me on mute... or tell me to be quiet so you and he can forget I'm "there." It's time for sex, and I don't want to miss it.

It always starts out quiet, all I can hear is the muffled, breathy dialogue as he divests you of your clothing, and you set to relinquishing his cock from the confines of his boxers. The giggling as he slaps his meat on your cheek, and your enthusiastic moans as you work him with your hands and your mouth. The tired creak of the springs as you crawl in bed with him, expressing your desperate need for him. You need him to fuck the shit out of you, to make you his for the night, and I'll hear everything. How good he feels in you as the bed cries out. How you want him to cum inside you, badly, and so forth. How he's been waiting to hear that from you, that it's a shame your "loser boyfriend" isn't there for fluff and cleanup duty.

Areyou on top, swiveling your hips to get every inch of his manhood right where you need it? Are you in your knees or your belly, falling into oblivion with every sweaty plap, plap, plap? Or does he have you in missionary, looking you in the eye, kissing you as you mate with him? You probably follow that order in all likelihood, as I listen obediently and take in the sing-song moans and manly grunts and growls and the smack talk thrown my way as if I'm not listening to everything. I may already be asleep, or I may be wide awake... but when it happens, I want to be present enough to witness the moment he finally unloads his plump testicles and floods your vagina as I drift off at midnight, boxer briefs full of cum.