My Toy Gets A Fine Tuning

Posted in: Science Fiction

Two — My Toy Gets A Fine Tuning

I awoke feeling refreshed and with no hangover. The bed was so soft and comfortable that, feeling so relaxed, I regretted having to move. I sat up, moved my legs and found my thighs were very sticky. My breasts and chin were the same.

Oh Irma, I thought, what a naughty, messy girl you are. You need a good spank.

I was alone now. It was only then I noticed there was a door opposite the one through which I had entered. It was a small bathroom and I made my way there, feeling a little trembly in the knees. I stepped into the shower and began rinsing off the gooey cum that had had such a disorientating affect on my senses. I had no time to adjust the temperature of the water before I felt a hand on my back, which quickly slipped across my wet skin, around to my stomach. Another followed, gliding to my breast which it cupped firmly. My nipple hardened instantly. Looking down I saw a pair of chocolate brown hands. I jerked my head around and found I was gazing into the wide brown eyes of a beautiful black girl. She had long, flowing ebony hair with blonde streaks. She smiled warmly and giggled at my look of surprise.

“Au naturel id, Phyllis,” she said and I recognised the deep, sensual tone, not to mention the distinctive mode of speech.

I had forgotten that the model I had opted for, or the model I had been persuaded by Jim’s silver tongue to purchase, was the dual racial model.

Wowee! I thought and turned to slip my arms around Lesley’s strong shoulders.

With the water streaming down our faces we kissed like two rain clouds merging into one. Then slowly her kisses travelled down my body to where my cream was already beginning to flow and mingle with the water. Kneeling before me she kissed my quim and I felt a warm gush leak down the inside of my leg. She expertly caught my juices in her mouth and then kissed me again. Her tongue flicked over my clitty and I began to moan. I held her head in my hands and placed one foot on her shoulder. She kneaded my buttocks and held me firmly. I knew that if I collapsed which, given the fact that my orgasm would probably be too much for my trembling knees, was most likely, I need have no fear of falling and hurting myself. Her athletic body would catch me easily.

As her tongue approached my opening I began to feel sensations that I had hitherto only dreamed of. Her tongue seemed to narrow, enter me and then broadened whilst inside me. Then, it slithered deep inside, making me hiss with unexpected pleasure. Her tongue was coiling around and around, exploring my entire vagina, caressing my g spot, tickling it like a little finger. I squirmed against her wildly, but she held me in place. My face was contorted in ecstasy, my mouth wide open to the streaming shower immediately above me. Hot tears burst from my lids to be washed away instantly. I cried as I came, my throat tight with barely containable sobs. I held Lesley’s shoulders tightly and her tongue snaked up and down inside me at an incredible speed. Finally I did collapse and flopped onto her back. She absorbed the gentle blow with ease and carried me over her shoulder from the shower back to the bedroom where she sat me in an armchair.

Disappearing for moment she returned with a warm fluffy towel for me to dry myself off. As I did so I noticed with astonishment that her skin and hair were already dry. She smiled simply and donned her gown and her shoes. I dressed quickly and was soon back in Jim’s office.

The walls between the rooms seemed substantial, but as he flashed his teeth at me, I wondered how exactly he assessed his customers’ satisfaction and how much of that assessment was through observation. I had not noticed any cameras in there, but he had seemed to be very intent on his laptop the moment I entered.

Jesus, I thought to myself, can’t I ever learn to relax?

Lesley came to a halt in front of Jim’s desk where he was sitting. She stood with her hands on her hips, one heel raised and her leg slightly bent to accentuate the curve of her hips, her lips slightly parted and her eyes staring blankly straight ahead.

Jim tapped a few keys and said, “I need you to provide me with three distinctive words which you do not expect to ever say by accident.”

“Who? Me?” I asked, looking to Lesley whose mind seemed absent from the room. “What words?”

Jim regarded me tolerantly and sat back. His smile soured slightly as he looked me up and down. He obviously found me a little slow.

“Words to activate the different configurations of the doll. One for the male configuration which you have yet to try, one for the female, one for the hermaphrodite and one to change the racial configuration. Words that, when spoken to the doll only by you, will be match those stored in its speech recognition software.”

I was thrown slightly by his knowing that I had yet to see Lesley in her masculine form, but then a shiver of anticipation went through me as I realised I still had such a pleasure to look forward to.

“Yuh, yes,” I stuttered, “um, let me think.”

“At the moment the doll’s various activation codes are the numbers all our dolls have when they leave the factory.”
I exchanged looks with him and I wondered how Lesley felt about being ignored so rudely and called ‘it.’

“At the moment, the activation code for the hermaphrodite configuration is five one two.” He raised his eyebrows and I slowly realised with a queasy feeling what he was implying.

Whilst in the bedroom I had said something that had sounded to Lesley like, “Five one two,” and had thus accidentally activated the hermaphrodite function. I frowned and considered expressing my indignation that indeed he had been ‘monitoring’ my satisfaction from his desk, but Jim had risen and was turning Lesley to face me.

“Now, I want you to give me the word you and nobody else will say to the doll when you wish it to become a man.”

Fortunately I had chosen these words already. I had been told that this would be necessary when I had ordered the product four weeks before and I reached into my handbag for my phone where I had stored the words.

“After three,” said Jim, turning round to the laptop on the desk, but remaining standing. “One two three.”

I love classical music and so I said clearly to Lesley’s blank face, “Gershwin.” Lesley made no response and, after tapping a few keys, Jim asked me to repeat the name twice. He then asked me to give the word to activate the female configuration. “Humperdinck,” I said. Jim raised an eyebrow and tapped a few keys. The process was repeated for the hermaphrodite configuration, for which I said, “Rimsky Korsakov,” grimacing at how eccentric I must seem to Jim, then the word to change the racial configuration, for which I gave the word, “Bach.”

“So,” said Jim, closing his laptop, as we both stood by Lesley, completely ignoring her, “how, um, was it for you?”

I blushed, really quite angry, and began to make for the door. “Fine, thank you,” I said without turning, “apart from her speech. She seems to have picked up some kind of weird dialect.”

“Oh yes,” he said following me, showing me he knew just what I meant and thus making it obvious that he had been spying on me. “We’ll have that ironed out by the time the product is delivered.”

I stopped and at the door and turned to look at Lesley’s back. We had not exchanged a farewell kiss, or even a goodbye and I realised painfully that, wonderful though she was, Lesley was not real.

“Which will be?” I enquired without looking at Jim, but gazing longingly at the beautiful shape by the desk.

Outside, the hookers were still protesting and I was showered with rice this time, presumably as they had run out of vegetables. I sailed past them dreamily with a smile, casually wondering if they thought I had just got married.

I arrived home a little later than planned and realised that I might have some explaining to do. I live with my friend, Alice, in a little wooden cottage by the sea. Alice had been diagnosed with motor neurone disease three years earlier and relied on me to care for her. She had grown up on a farm in New Hampshire with lots of sheep. Hence four inflatable, black and white sheep lurking amongst the undergrowth of our unkempt garden, there to remind her of home. They really looked ridiculous, but kind of cute, and I loved Alice all the more for such silliness.

Passing the busy fruit and vegetable market immediately outside the front door, I entered and ran upstairs to the bedroom, still feeling buoyant from my date with Lesley which, of course, was still top secret.

“My,” drawled Alice with a pencilled eyebrow cocked, “you look like someone’s been nice to you.” She was on the bed in her underwear.

Already flushed from the jog up the stairs I blushed bright red. Alice frowned, realising that she had probably best not inquire further, and turned her attention back to the television.

Since the advent of her illness Alice and I had drifted apart slightly and she knew I looked for love in the arms of others. We had both agreed not to discuss it, but I knew that it hurt her. To dispel a feeling of encroaching wretchedness I asked her brightly what was happening on the news. I blushed again when I saw the story under discussion.

A bomb had exploded in a robot factory belonging to the company from which I had purchased Lesley. Apparently the American branch of Hookers Opposing Robots were now applying terrorism to fight their campaign and had claimed responsibility for the bombing. Alice snickered with her mouth shut and shook her head.

“My my! Who’d be crazy enough to have sex with one of their stupid robots anyway? You’d have to be the loneliest person on Earth to go and do something like that.”

I stifled my indignation and tried to maintain a poker face. The TV reported that the company could lose millions of dollars due to damaged dolls.

“Hey!” cried Alice suddenly, “have you made up your mind about what to do with all that money your Uncle left you yet? Don’t you go blowing it on no silly expensive toy now. I know you, Irma, like the moles on my ass!”

If I could afford something to stop me blushing that’d be next on the shopping list, I thought. Instead of talking I smiled and winked at her, switched off the TV and turned on the stereo.

“What do you think you’re doing, you crazy cracker?” The severity of Alice’s tone was tempered by her smile. She knew what I doing.

The music I chose was Prince, Alice’s favourite. I raised my arms up high and stood at the foot of the bed. I began gyrating my hips and spun slowly before her. Bending forward I wiggled my ass at her, moving it in a circular movement from side to side. I removed my skirt and top until I was only in my shocking pink frilly knickers. I slowly danced around the bed until my hips were grinding just inches from her face. My hips began to sway swiftly in a belly dance which she always found irresistible. She laughed quietly with pleasure and, while my back was turned, she reached out and pulled me to her surprisingly hard. I fell beside her and we kissed deeply. I hooked a leg over and continued to grind my hips, now against hers. She moved her hand down and I moved to and fro across her fingers, feeling her through my knickers with my swollen clitty. My breathing became ragged. My hot breath sighed into her face. I came gently and softly. I kissed her again. My lips then grazed her neck and bra as I moved downwards.

“What’s eating you all of a sudden?” asked Alice, who then suddenly threw her head back as I began eating her.

I pulled her white panties aside and tried to apply some of Lesley’s skill to pleasuring Alice. She moaned and moved her hips a little, but I could tell that she would probably end up feeling frustrated again, like so many times before, despite however much I tried to stimulate her. Her illness and the medical treatments had all but killed off her libido. Alice still felt desire. I could tell from the glances she would send me, but it was rare for her to enjoy the full releasing pleasure of an orgasm. Eventually she lay there still and I moved up to kiss her mouth again. There were tears in her eyes which I brushed away with my lips.

“I can’t,” she whispered shakily, “I can’t. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Shh.” I kissed her face tenderly and cradled her head until she was a little calmer. She gave me a brave smile and, still stroking and caressing her, I sat up.
Downstairs I heard footsteps and a voice. “Anyone home?” It was my boyfriend, Jean. Alice patted my leg. I squeezed her hand for a moment, then began to dress.

“Coming!” I shouted and, blowing Alice a kiss, ran down to meet Jean. Standing in the living room in his white kaftan, barefoot on the wooden floorboards, with his guitar across his shoulder, he looked very bohemian.

“Any tarantulas today?” He looked around the room dubiously. The carpetless room had a beaten up sofa, a chair with a computer desk and a laptop. Apart from that, the room was fairly bare, as Alice and I spent most of our time in the bedroom.

I assessed the room quickly for tarantula infestation. “Nope,” I replied.

“Hm,” hummed Jean, chewing his disgusting lady pleaser which looked like a squashed insect stuck to his lower lip, and fell heavily into the sofa which sank almost to the floor. He was far too heavy for it. He looked rather morose and he aimlessly fingered the strings of his guitar.

I made us both a whiskey and soda and asked him what the matter was.

It turned out that he had been banned from busking in the town centre because the local authorities had been receiving complaints from tourists that his singing was upsetting them. I could hardly believe it, so I sat beside him, put my arm around his shoulder and stroked the nape of his broad neck, under the dreadlocks. He was a big guy, but I loved his bear like body and his sloth like ponderous way of moving, except for when he was fucking me, for which he seemed to reserve all his energy. Admittedly his singing was an acquired taste. He often sounded as if he had swallowed a live fish and was trying to cough it back up.

“What utter snobs,” I sympathised and kissed him.

My hand touched his crotch and his erection was instantaneous. Quickly he grabbed my skirt and pulled it up while I lifted his kaftan over his head. I straddled him on the torn sofa and kissed and fondled him some more, but he was too impatient for foreplay. He pulled my hips and impaled me on his enormous prick. He immediately began thrusting at speed and I had to hold on tight as if I was riding a bronco. He was obviously venting his frustration by using me and I could do nothing now but see it through, though he was hurting me a little. His big, strong hands dug into my ass painfully and my pussy had not been relaxed or wet enough to allow his huge size. He pushed into me deeply, deaf to my whimpers and gasps of pain.

“Ow, ow, ow! you’re hurting me, Jean,” I protested, but his eyes were glazed with an almost bestial lust.

He continued fucking me as he stood and walked, carrying me across the room to the corner where he pushed me hard against the wall so that he could penetrate me more deeply. My head knocked against the adjoining wall with every thrust and I felt a stab of pain in my ass, close to my anus, as something stuck into my skin.

“Ouch!” I squealed and he forced himself even deeper and spunked against my womb.

He groaned and I wailed as he continued thrusting like an animal, until we were both completely exhausted. He almost dropped me and turned away while I fell to my knees. It was the first time we had fucked and I had not come. I panted and gasped on the floor whilst fumbling around on my left ass cheek to see what it was that had stuck into me. It was an inch long splinter from the wooden post in the corner. When I looked up I could see Alice’s dark face and brown eyes peering at me sorrowfully from the top of the stairs . She raised her eyebrows as if to ask if I was alright. I nodded feebly and she began to slowly climb back to the bedroom, shaking all the way.

“I’ve a splinter in my fucking ass,” I said, noticing that my fingertips were smeared with a little blood.

Jean, who had already dressed, came over, kneeled and placed his mouth over the splinter. One hard suck and the splinter was out. At any other time I would have been turned on by that, but I found the childish, blood smeared smile he gave me annoying.

“That wasn’t a very nice fuck, Jean,” I said, standing. He nodded, seemed to understand that I wished him to leave, picked up his guitar and headed to the door.

“Sorry,” he mumbled and left. I did not bother to dress, but went to the bathroom to clean up the blood and apply some antiseptic to my cut.

“Fucker,” I whispered to myself and cried a little. He had never been like that with me before. He liked it rough sometimes, but he had at least made me come. How selfish! Wiping tears away I tried to put on a brave face when I reappeared in the bedroom, but Alice could see how hurt I was.

“That lousy sonofabitch!” she growled. “How bad did he hurt you, honey?”

I shook my head, tried to laugh, then burst out crying. Alice opened her arms and I crawled into them, allowing her to caress my ass where the splinter had been. I listened to her soft breathing, gently stroked her breast in response to her caress and fell asleep.

Copyright © Irma Cerrutti 2010

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