Hotwife Alien Impregnation E-Book

Alana Church

• Herausgeber: Boruma Publishing
• Kategorie: Erotik
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

Maggie and Jim are happily married. Except for one thing. They cannot have children. When Maggie suggests they use Jim's best friend to father her child, she never expected to find out that Dodge wasn't just willing, but eager! And that he was a shapeshifting alien ambassador from another planet as well! Can Maggie deal with a "Hotwife Alien Impregnation?"

~~~~~ PG Excerpt ~~~~~

Hell. I almost hope Dodge doesn't knock me up right away, Maggie thought. If I play my cards right, I could be getting laid by two absolutely gorgeous men at the same time! She squeezed her thighs together at the naughty thought. Then she blinked. Would Jim want to come with her, next time? Maybe watch? Maybe, even...participate?

Luckily, Dodge's small house was only a ten-minute drive. Otherwise, she would have fantasized herself into such a state of arousal that her panties would have been absolutely drenched by the time she arrived. As it was, she took a second to examine herself before she got out of the car.

Looking good, girl. She nodded and strode up the sidewalk. Dodge must have been keeping an eye out for her, because the inner door opened before she even had a chance to knock.

Easy. You can do this. Maggie fought down the unreasoning terror and put a smile to her face. "Hi, Dodge."

"Maggie." He stood aside to let her in. "You look lovely this evening."

"Thank you," she replied, happy her choice of clothing had met with his approval. She hadn't wanted to get all tarted up like a Hooters girl. But there was no point in dressing like a nun, either. At the end, she had chosen a blue silk skirt, conservative in cut and color but flirtatiously light. It billowed around her calves and knees with every step she took. Her heels were just high enough to give her bottom a perky lift, and her blouse was ivory, tight enough to show off her breasts. She had kept her jewelry to the minimum  the more you wore, the bigger the chance you might forget something. But she kept her wedding ring on  a subtle reminder to both herself and Dodge.

She put her purse on a convenient table, then stood, horribly ill at ease. Was this the way prostitutes felt, when they met a client for the first time?

"Well," Dodge said, seeming almost as uncomfortable as her. "Can I show you around?"

"Um, sure."

"We're probably going to be spending some time together," he added. "It would be very rare, I understand, for a woman to conceive on the first attempt."

"Not to hear some of the kids I went to high school with talk about it. A couple of them caught pregnant and they swore up and down they'd only gone to bed with their boyfriends one time, Daddy, I swear to God, it was only one time!"

Dodge chuckled. To her relief, he didn't try to initiate intimacy right away, and she relaxed a bit.

"Living room," he said, with a wave at the room. "Dining room through that door." With a guiding hand, he led her down a short hall. "The bedroom is on the right. And here," he opened a door at the end of the hall, "is something very special."

Maggie hid a smile. Was it a man-cave? Full of University of Iowa regalia, a mini-fridge stocked with beer, and a huge flat-screen television? Was he a Trekkie? Or really into those Lord of the Rings films, and this was his little shrine, filled with collectibles and posters?

Whatever it was, she vowed to be properly respectful. There was no harm in stroking her host's ego.

That was until Dodge flipped a switch on the wall, pulled open the door, and led her into a freakin' interstellar spaceship.

Leseprobe

Hotwife Alien Impregnation

By Alana Church

Artwork by Moira Nelligar

Copyright 2022 Alana Church

~~ All characters in this book are over 18. ~~

Chapter 1

Honestly, Dodge Windhover thought. If it wasn’t for barbeque and human females, this planet would be completely intolerable.

He sighed. The climate is atrocious. The inhabitants are little better than savages. Their science is rudimentary. Their art almost non-existent. They bicker and quibble and war amongst one another until you almost hope they actually succeed in their goal of wiping each other out.

And yet. And yet.

There was barbeque. And their females. And the knowledge that this race had managed to make itself the apex predator on a planet so hostile to life that it was a miracle it had ever formed. It wasn’t just the climate. The planet itself was tectonically active, prone to earthquakes and vulcanism. When it wasn’t freezing during periodic ice ages, it was stifling with heat. The asteroid belt beyond the fourth planet in this system meant that there was always the chance of a planet-killing impact that would all but sterilize it. And the sheer unlikeliness of life on Earth meant that when it actually merged, it was with a savage-toothed ferocity that made his own homeworld seem tame and sedate by comparison. Disease ran rampant, sprung from bacteria and viruses that had tested even his immunizations. By the gods, even the fucking insects could kill you.

He slapped at an arm, leaving a red smear behind, and wondered, for the thousandth time, why the so-called government of this country, richer and stronger than any that had ever existed in the benighted planet’s history, couldn’t do a simple thing like eradicate mosquitoes.

“Here, Dodge.” A metal container was pressed into his hand. “Spray yourself down, or the little bloodsuckers will drain you dry.”

“My thanks.” He smiled down at the wife of his host, who was also the closest person he could call to a friend, at least within a few dozen light-years. “No matter how long I live here, I will never get used to how hot it gets in the summer. Or how many different types of parasites will attempt to use me as their own personal buffet.”

Maggie laughed, a charming dimple forming at the side of her mouth. “Too true! I have to wonder what my ancestors were thinking when they decided that yes, this looks nice. Let’s settle in Iowa.”

Dodge smiled politely. It was an assumed name, of course. But being a member of the Diplomatic Corps of the Union of Sentient Species meant that one was expected to do quite a bit of creative editing of the truth, when occasion called for it. For example, you did not tell the inhabitants of a Class-Six planet that you were a shapeshifting alien and the envoy of a galactic empire, and that if you woke up in a bad mood you could order the entire planet be sterilized for no reason at all.

Even civilized people got jumpy about that sort of thing.

“But what are you doing, wandering around in the dark?” Maggie took his arm. “Jim has been babying his brisket all day. If you don’t show up and act impressed, it will probably crush his soul.”

Dodge allowed himself to be led back to the rest of the party. In his human disguise, he had been living on Earth for the better part of a galactic decade. It was no great matter. His species was a long-lived one. But it did mean, as they sojourned among the stars, they had a proclivity to striking up strange bonds and friendships. And, to be perfectly honest, he had discovered he quite liked humans, even the males. At least individually.

It's only when they form groups they seem to lose their collective minds, he snorted.

“Dodge!” Jim looked up from where he had been slicing a slab of seared animal flesh. “You’re just in time. Grab a plate, my man, and tell me what you think!”

Dodge looked at the other people crowded on the deck. Some of the expressions he saw were distinctly unfriendly. “What I think is that I should wait my turn.”

“Good point.” Jim busied himself dishing out brisket, and Dodge put himself at the end of the line.

A small, white-haired, bright-eyed woman looked up at him, her face curious. “So who are you, young man?”

He inclined his head, forced into respect despite himself. “My name is Dodge. I work with Jim. Do you know him?”

“I should. He’s married to my granddaughter, after all.”

“Ah. Shall I fetch you a drink, madam?”

“Such a nice boy.” She patted his arm. “And so polite. Yes. I’m sure Jim has an Old Style in that cooler over there. And if he doesn’t, well, my granddaughter married the wrong man, didn’t she?”

Dodge stifled a sigh and rooted in the ice-filled chest until he found the correct can, though there hardly seemed to be any difference between the various offerings, as far as he could tell. He was well aware of the effects of alcohol on carbon-based life-forms, but he would have given much to have some Altairian nebula-rum. Or some dark, rich Vorvanii maplemead.

“My lady.” He handed over the beverage with a crooked smile.

“Thank you.” She peered up at him. “So what do you do?”

He bit his tongue, stifling the completely inappropriate (though truthful) reply. I am a galactic ambassador, exiled to this festering gravity-well for ten years. My mission is to make sure the human race isn’t a danger to the USS and to see if you have any redeeming qualities which might qualify you for membership. And if the diplomatic corps has their way, your entire planet will be quarantined for at least another galactic century. By that time you might have art and culture that would be worth the name.

Instead, he merely smiled and said, “I work with Maggie’s husband.”

“Oh!” The old woman poured beer down her gullet. Dodge was actually impressed, a little. “He works with computers, right?”

“Yes.”

He was saved from further discourse by Jim. “Dodge, my man. Grab a plate and get ready for paradise.”

This time, his smile was genuine. “And I’m not even dead.”

“That would be inconvenient.” Jim dished out several pieces of the brisket. “Try some of that sauce over there,” he said, nodding. “A guy we know from church recommended it. Clear from North Carolina, with enough vinegar to give it a little kick.”

Dodge nodded and moved to the tables where the side dishes were set. Perhaps, he thought, I could petition for Earth to be invited to join the Union based upon the quality of their foodstuffs. Unlike the homeworld, where foods had been genetically modified for maximum efficiency until they bore only scant resemblance to their ancestors, food on Earth was mouth-wateringly delicious, the tastes bright and sharp. A planet in its youth, to be sure, still throwing out new species as quickly as it could.

Dodge filled his plate and found a seat on the raised wooden bench that surrounded the deck on three sides. He speared a chunk of brisket, dipped it into the sauce, raised it to his mouth, and bit down.