Finally, my alien lifts his head from my pussy and presses a kiss to my thigh. “You want me to wear plas-film? I can get up and get some.” “What is that?” Dazed, I try to picture what he's talking about. “Condoms?” “It's a film that covers your skin,” he tells me, continuing to press his mouth to my thigh as if addicted. “So I can't transfer diseases or my seed into your body.” “So it is like a condom.” When I feel his body move, I realize he's shrugging. “Are you diseased, then?” “No.” “Can you get me pregnant?” “Not without medical assistance, I'm afraid.” His tongue flicks against my skin.
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