Sex Machine

Alison's Erotic Adventures

Book 7
Boruma Publishing
6

 Alison's reputation as a sexual athlete catches up to her—science wants to model her libido for a high-tech sex robot! Her GF, Moriah is next—except for one problem: She's a virgin. The computer model requires P.I.V. experience with at least 4 men. So Alison arranges for GF to be the main attraction at a bachelor's party.

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

The customer, in a gray three-piece suit that screamed lawyer, sat opposite the desk as Tommy sank back in his office chair. The guy had picked up his Mercedes the week before. A problem with the front-end job?

Nope. It was about a visit to a crummy east-side bar two years ago. Tommy had set up a gang bang for Alison, his long-time sex buddy. And played traffic cop to make sure the it ran smoothly as seven lucky guys took turns in a back room.

“You probably don’t remember me, but I remember you,” the guy said to Tommy over the blast of pneumatic wrenches. “You ran interference for a young lady who, uh, was entertaining some men on a busted pool table.”

“You a cop?”

“No, one of the customers, although I guess that’s not the right word, since she was free. Highly remarkable, considering how beautiful she was.”

“It might’ve been me.”

“I’m looking for that young lady,” he said and leaned forward. “This is going to sound fantastical, but it’s about an investment. Long story, so I’ll cut to the chase. After you and the young lady left, all seven of us lucky males who had enjoyed her services sat at the bar. We all agreed. She was absolutely, bar-none, the best any of us had ever had.”

“I’ll pass the compliment along.”

“Even Mike, the black guy who gets more high quality sex in a week than most of us get in a year, said she was extraordinary.”

“So?”

“I’m working with a scientific concern that’s developing a sex surrogate using robotics and virtual reality. Know what a sex surrogate is?”

“A woman who has sex for therapeutic reasons, I think. Help guys who can’t get off.”

“That’s right. I’m heading up a venture capital group to get this thing on solid financial footing. The goal is to fully automate a female sexual surrogate using robotics, micro sensors, body imaging and, most importantly, virtual reality. This isn’t going to be a cheap, inflatable sex doll. Or a high-quality silicone corpse that looks great, but just lays there. Using vision goggles, tactile simulators, sound, aroma, and, yes, direct genital stimulation, it’s a system that will respond and even initiate sex with a man. There’s a huge need.”

“That many men can’t get their rocks off?”

“It’s amazing the number of sexually dysfunctional males who need skilled therapy for problems like anxiety, body-image issues and premature ejaculation. Yet skilled, legitimate sex surrogates are scarce. It is, to put it mildly, a niche occupation that’s easily confused with prostitution.”

“Because it is prostitution, right?”

“No, it’s not. Sexual services for pay in a therapeutic situation are not illegal.”

“Dude, I strongly suspect—hell, I know—a lot of hookers who say their work is highly therapeutic.”

The guy held a hand up. “No argument. Regardless, a fully functional sex robot can fill that void. Our team is about ninety-five percent of the way there, but we’ve hit a snag.”

“Something that Alison can fix?”

“So that’s her name. Yeah, Alison can fill a void. We need to profile a fully sexually responsive woman for our computer models.”

“Profile? What’s that involve?”

“Basically, touching herself while hooked up to a bunch of probes and sensors.... In a room lighted with overhead fluorescents and geeks running around with clipboards.”

“In the nude?”

“Of course. It’s a scenario that shuts down the sexual responsiveness of most women…but that's what we need.”

Tommy looked up for the first time. “Alison’s your girl.”

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Additional Information

Publisher
Boruma Publishing
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Published on
Nov 15, 2016
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Pages
25
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ISBN
9781370288519
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Language
English
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Genres
Fiction / Erotica / General
Fiction / Erotica / Lesbian
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Content Protection
This content is DRM protected.
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Available on Android devices
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Brian wants a change "down there." Bigger, right? Meditation works, sort of. Now he’s a girl down below! His roommate doesn't mind, and gives the new package a daily workout. Brian worries that he's feminizing by the day. He calls his old friend (no benefits) Stacey, who can't believe his story. Then SHE tries meditating and gets trans-sexed! And they become friends with benefits.

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

“Hold it, man. Just hold it,” Stacey said. “What you’re saying—no way. That kind of transformation—trust me on this, I know people who have done it—costs tens of thousands of dollars and takes many surgeries. Come on, Brian. Level with me.”

They had almost polished off a bottle of wine. It wasn’t until the second glass that Brian found the words and told her the reason he had to see her.

Sighing, he got up. “Okay if I slip into something more comfortable?”

Two minutes later, he was back. His flannel sleep shirt came mid-thigh.

“Shaving your legs? Really?”

Brian sat next to Stacey. “There’s no other way but to show you,” he said, and pulled the shirt up to his waist.

Stacey pushed his legs apart, her nose inches away from his genitals.

“This is just incredible,” she said under her breath. “I mean, uncanny.”

“I know. Bob asked me if I was taking hormones.”

“Not just that. I’ll have to show you.”

Stacey wiggled out of her jeans and pushed her thong down. Sliding away from Brian, she spread her legs.

“Look. Look at me.”

Brian had skinny dipped with Stacey a couple times. But, unlike in porn, he discovered that in real life women don’t lie around with their legs spread. Even with their one failed attempt at sex in his parent’s station wagon, he had no idea what Stacey looked like.

Stacey’s girl parts were the mirror image of Brian’s—a classic clamshell capped with a downy brown bush. Brian even had a mole on his left thigh just like hers.

“It’s real?” Stacey asked. “It works?”

“Stacey, I rub myself every day. Three, four times. It is insatiable. It’s a problem, but, jeez, not one that I’m in a big rush to fix. I had no idea chicks had it so good.”

“Did you show Bob?”

Brian blushed.

“No, please, no—tell me it isn’t so. He’s doing you?"

“Not strictly speaking. Bob’s not gay,” Brian said, blotting the shower incident out of his mind. “Hell, I’m not gay. It’s just, well…”

“How often?”

“At least twice a day.”

“What else? I mean, who else?”

“Hank, the new guy at the shop. He does me every night after we close.”

Stacey slapped her open palm on her forehead. “What if you get pregnant?” She was almost yelling.

“I guess if I get pregnant, I’ll get rich. Think about it. I’ll be on TV. I’d be the first man in history…” He couldn’t finish the sentence.

She eyed him critically. “So, why are you here? Sounds like things are going just ducky. God knows, your sex life is better than mine.”

“God, Stacey, I’m still changing. You heard my voice on the phone. Look at my legs. I don’t shave them. Same with my underarms. My butt is round and tight. The more I use it, the more I feminize. And look at this.”

He unbuttoned the sleep shirt.

“Oh, baby,” Stacey cooed, her hands moving across his hairless chest. “Oh, they’re so cute! You’re ready for your first training bra!”
After taking seven horny steelworkers on a busted pool table, Alison was ready for something different. She pulled a mashed-up business card out of her purse, the one that she got from the cop she seduced a couple of weeks before. She was a cute female cop who had pulled her over on the interstate just as Alison was about to climax, thanks to her remote-controlled vibrator. The seduction was in an interstate motel—and it was the best sex she had ever had. Now, Alison wanted that sexy cop again. She made the call, and Alison’s new affair kicked off with a long weekend of sex—in a movie theater ladies room, in Alison’s bedroom, in a grocery store, at the mall, with a three-way with another gorgeous woman … you get the idea. Lip Service is 15,000 words of explicit, panty-wetting, woman-on-woman erotica that you won’t forget.

~~~~~  Excerpt  ~~~~~

A peal of ear-splitting thunder echoed throughout the room. The atmosphere felt charged as the sky opened up and heavy splats of rain fell on the stones of the patio outside the glass doors.

Our eyes locked. I moved toward Moriah and ran my finger down her cheek and on to her lips. Her mouth opened and she sucked my finger, twirling her tongue around it.

I slipped a cuff on each wrist and raised her arms. She was just short enough that her hands didn’t reach the ceiling. I ran the rope through the hook and pulled it taut. She stood almost in the middle of the room, her arms stretched high, standing almost on tiptoe.

“What are you going to do to me?” she whispered.

I stood behind her as I made a knot on the hook and lowered my mouth to her ear. “Give me a safe word. Give me a word that, when you say it, I’ll stop whatever I’m doing and let you go.”

“‘Stop?’”

“No, I want you to be able to say ‘stop’ without really meaning it. Something else.”

“Calliope.”

Her hands now secured above her head, I walked in front of her. Reaching down, I rolled her cotton ribbed sweater up above her breasts, revealing a pretty lace bra. Her eyes widened. The rain was coming down hard, and the room darkened from the storm clouds.

I undid the button on her jeans, slowly lowered the zipper, and pulled her pants down toward her knees. She shook one foot, then the other, sending her slip-ons across the room.

I pulled her jeans off her. All that was left were her bra, panties and socks. And her sweater scrunched up to her chin above her small breasts.

Moriah had a look of wild passion in her eyes as she watched my every move. I left her there and looked around the room for some inspiration.

In the corner were my walking sticks, high-tech poles make of carbon fiber, with rubber-coated tips and leather-wrapped handles with loops that secured them to your wrists while hiking. I picked one up and walked back to Moriah.

She licked her dry lips.

Lightning flashed, followed quickly by the crash of thunder. The fresh smell of ozone filled the air. The excitement was palpable. The atmosphere was charged with electricity, both literal and metaphorical.

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