These are not your fingers, and yet your wife finds herself responding as she does with you. The fingers rub the soft cotton of your wife’s panties,...feeling her vulva beneath the thin fabric. The room is warm, and the cotton damp to the touch. Perspiration, perhaps – but you know better than most your own wife’s desire, and it seems more than coincidence that the panties are wettest where those fingers continue to massage her sex. Almost without thinking your wife widens her legs still. Out of annoyance and boredom, one technician finally ran a computer analysis of all the planetary scans during the approach; save for a few higher elevations, the results showed that no other part of the world was so steadily cloud-obstructed as this. A few idly wondered why the aliens would choose such a meteorologically unfortunate area as the site for their most major settlement.For such it was; indeed, so far as the scanners showed, it might against all human experience be their only. So it became a fetish. I loved the taste of semen out of a freshly used pussy. We could not conceive, so we ended up divorcing. Now I wanted a woman or a group of women that would fulfill my hunger for semen from their pussies. So back to the ad. I was contacted by a bunch of prostitutes, wanting to charge money for fulfilling my fetish. I thanked them, but brushed them off.About two years ago I was contacted by a woman we shall name Letty. She was a 45 year old divorced woman from my local. " Affirmed Lulu, "I needed to feel normal, to fell like I was leading a proper life and that everything that what was going on during the day was a necessary evil in order to find a cure. I needed to have a portion of the day where I could live my life and be myself." And him?" He needed validation. To see for himself that a bimbo can still be a person; that he wasn't destroying people. He needed to hear me talk like a normal person. In a way, being friends with me allowed him to feel like he.