Rock n Roll Babes from Outer Space Read Free Page A

have left. Nah, the Nufonian libido leaves a lot to be desired. Plus, the somatic form we usually get around in is what I think Earthling Ufologists call ‘small grey’. You don’t know what that means? Never mind. I’ll show you in a minute. I was actually in small grey mode when we first got back to Galgal, but you looked a bit out of it, so I’m not surprised you can’t remember. But the crucial thing—as far as sex is concerned anyway—is that small greys have
no fucken genitals.
That’s right. Even
we
can’t tell if we’re Arthur or Martha. Can you believe that?
    How do we what? Reproduce? Like Earthlings, Nufonians only come in two genders. Boring, eh? Anyway, when it’s that time in his cycle, the male Nufonian starts hacking away like someone who’s just snorted a line of Mars dust.
Very
attractive, I can assure you. Keck-o-rama. Eventually, he hawks up a batch ofphlegmy sperm into his cakehole. He then finds a receptive female, and spits out all this gnarly cum into her ear. If it hits the bullseye, the fertilised egg then tumbles down a tube to a cavity in her throat. A few months down the track, she starts coughing as well, and eventually, just as you think she’s going to gag to death, out pops a yunggin. The very thought makes me want to spew. When I’m on Nufon I keep my ears to myself.
    Not that I have anything against aural sex. I’ve got nothing against sex of any kind. If you ask me, true love waits for no man or woman, ayle or bean. Lust doesn’t linger for long and good times tend to slip away if you don’t grab ‘em by the short & curlies when they’re passing through town.
    Good times come in all sorts of shapes and sizes in the outer. Some aliens have funny, limited ideas about who they’ll get involved with. Pleiadians tend to avoid Sirians, and Andromedans won’t even look at an Alpha Centaurian. Me, I like all physical types. Senocular, simous, scombroid. Whatever. Don’t care if you’ve got scales or fur or eyes in the middle of your head, or polka dots or stripes or twelve fat fingers on each of your twenty-two hands. It all boils down to chemistry, really. Know what I mean? I think you do, Earth boy. I think you do.
    Chemistry, hey?
    What was I saying? Oh yeah, sex. Age doesn’t matter to me, either. The wrizzled voice of experience has always been the sweetest music to my ears, particularly since, as a Nufonian, my ears are all I’ve ever had to play with. I’m attracted to nearly all of the seventeen known genders in the yooniverz, though I must admit I’ve always preferred vuggier types. When it comes to sex, holes are a goodthing. Holes are useful. Holes are fun. That’s what’s wrong with us Nufonians, you know. Not enough holes. As small greys, we’re literally closed to new experiences.
    Speaking of new experiences, I’m an Earthling virgin. Never done it in Earth girl form or with one of your types before. Despite being part Earthling, we could never really manage the Earth girl shtick outside of this atmosphere—just as you think you’ve got a fix on it,
skikk,
it all kinda slips away and you’re back in small grey mode. Unbelievable. You see, our Earthling genes have given us heaps and heaps of sexual drive but our Nufonian circumstances meant that we’ve never been able to get it out of first gear.
    Sex-wise, you folks are a legend. I don’t want to make you feel bad or anything, and this may be a bit of a generalisation, but we up in the outer have never exactly been interested in you for your minds. In yoonal terms, you barely qualify as an intelligent life form. Your crufty little computers are a joke, you can’t remove the caps from childproof bottles, and you prefer dumb Hollywood remakes to the original French films. And look what you’re doing to your planet. Not to mention each other. We occasionally tune into
LAPD
and
A Current Affair
and I’ll tell you, we’re fucken
shocked
by what we see. I mean, Ray Martin’s hair is one thing, but