Archive for January, 2011

Feature Film

I sat on the idea for a week and let it stew.

The whole concept was antithetical to me. I was born and raised feminist; I’m an introvert by nature; I’ve never liked having my picture taken; and I’m so compulsively private I don’t even have a Facebook page. But in a weird way, the idea was naggingly intriguing. I couldn’t quite let it go.

Heh. If my mom had any idea that I was even considering the notion, she’d have a coronary. Heh heh.

The only reason I was even considering it was that I’d looked through their website and I really liked their stuff. All the models looked like real people, attractive guys and girls, and they all looked like they were really into each other and having fun. It was like getting to watch your hot neighbors having sex.

That and the money. According to the ad, if I actually went out and did this thing, I wouldn’t have to work at all for at least a month. More if I laid low. I could spend all that time writing. Or sleeping late and sitting around all day in my panties surfing porn. Whichever I wanted.


Their ‘headquarters’ was a small, slightly shabby looking vinyl-sided suburban house deeply buried in the hinterlands of the northern suburbs.  Hand-printed lettering on the mailbox identified the place as ‘R&M Video Concepts’. There was a neat little vegetable garden in the front yard. A roughly spherical, white-haired older lady was down on her hands and knees in freshly turned dirt. She appeared to be stringing up peas. She had the kind of wrinkles around her eyes that said she smiled and laughed a lot. She kind of reminded me of Mrs. Claus.

“Here to audition Hon?”

“Um, yes”

“Go right on in, the door’s not locked. And, Sweetie, don’t let Roger get to you. He’s harmless, just a grouchy old pervert, that’s all.”

The house was furnished, well, as if it had been decorated by a pair of aging swingers who had stalled out in 1979. Orange shag carpeting and all. There was a plastic sign adhered to one of the doors that read ‘OFFICE’. The sign looked like it might have been pilfered from a motel. Next to the sign was a sticker that read ‘Sit On A Happy Face’.

If the nice lady out front looked like Santa Claus, the guy in the office sitting at the desk looked like Santa’s sourpuss accountant. He was a shriveled-looking withered little old troll with hairy ears and a grey dusty-looking suit. When I shut the door behind me, he looked up testily from behind a computer that looked like it had come off the USS Missouri.

“Yes… Can I help you?”

“I’m… um, here about the ad?”

“Oh yes, of course you are. Well let’s get it over with. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

He glared at me expectantly across the desk.

“You’re asking me to disrobe?”

“Well we do make pornography here. Yes, I need to see your junk before I offer you the job. God help us.”

Wow. I mean, I knew I’d have to get naked at some point if I were actually going to go through with this. I just hadn’t expected it to be so blunt… or grouchy. Oh well, what the hell: in for a dime, in for a dollar I guess. I took a deep breath and started taking off my clothes. I’d never stripped naked in front of a complete stranger before. I guess I had imagined the experience being either liberating or mortifying. In reality, it was much more banal. I felt like a cadaver being sized up by the county medical examiner.

“Hmm…” he said, picking up his glasses off the blotter and putting them on. They only emphasized how oversized his hairy ears were. “Not too bad… cute tits. Turn around…. Ok, you got the gig. You’re going to have to do something about that bush though. Maybe you can borrow Martha’s hedge trimmer. She keeps it in the shed out back.”

He shoved a contract and a bunch of paperwork across the desk at me.

“Can I get dressed now?”

“Oh by all means, please do! Be my guest!”

“Um, you aren’t going to be there in person for the filming, are you?”

He didn’t answer, only looked balefully up at me from behind his computer, which I was pretty sure, was an antique TRS-80. “My dear,” he said icily, “As much as I’d love to watch you fuck, my herpes has been acting up lately.” For the first time he flashed me a smile, a thin, grudging little smile. “I would so hate to aggravate it, so I suppose I’ll have to pass.”


My ob/gyn is a tiny little Vietnamese woman, about ten years older than me. When I explained why I needed the full exam, she tut-tutted. Then we both got the giggles. “Have fun!” she said, “Enjoy it, why not! You have fun.”

Roger could go fuck himself. I wasn’t going to wax my pussy for that nasty old troll. But I did give it a serious trim. Nothing like knowing that your far-from-perfect naked body and private parts are going to be on view for the entire interweb to peruse to make a girl a little obsessive about her personal grooming. I thought about going on a diet, and then figured I was just making myself crazy. I ordered a pizza for delivery and ate half the pie myself, saving the leftovers for breakfast.

The lab work all came back negative. All that was left was for me to sit around the apartment and wait.


The phone rang. It was Martha.

“Hi Sweetie, what’s your schedule like? We had a cancellation, and I was wondering if you might be able to drop by this afternoon…? Fine, I’ll see you then. Make sure and take a shower first.”

I took about six.


Roger was nowhere to be seen, much to my relief. Martha met me at the door, bustled me upstairs to a tastefully decorated bedroom crammed full to bursting with a king size bed, klieg lights, boom mic, camera tripod, mixing board, and a spaghetti mess of cables. The walls were painted baby blue and there were white lace curtains over the window. A tall, skinny guy with thin black hair and a receding hairline sat fidgeting on the edge of the crisply-made bed.

“Get to know each other for a few minutes,” Martha said, “I’ll be right back with the video camera. Ta!” And she bustled out of the room, closing the door behind her.

We looked at each other.

It was an awkward moment. In a few minutes, we’d be having sex with each other. I’m not sure which of us felt more nervous. I felt like I was visibly shaking. ‘At least,’ I thought, ‘at least he’s reasonably cute.’

“So,” he asked after an almost physically painful pause, “Is this your first time too?”

I nodded mutely, not trusting my voice.

“My name’s Tiberius,” he said, “But you can call me Tiberius. Sorry, bad joke. I’m a little nervous.”

“Me too!” I smiled and sat down on the bed next to him, “More than a little nervous.”

“You don’t need to be,” he said, “You’re really cute. And I don’t bite.”

I laughed, and he laughed too, and that seemed to break the ice. He had a nice laugh, kind of geeky and honest. We talked a little bit. He was a few years older than me; he was originally from Oregon; he had an MFA in sculpture but worked in a coffee shop; his work was very informed by Giger and Lovecraft; he had an exhibition at a tiny gallery in an un-hip part of Brooklyn. I found myself thinking that, in other circumstances, he was the kind of guy I’d want to date, but who would be too shy to ask me out.

“Listen,” he said, “After we’re done… doing what we’re going to do today… do you think you’d like to go out sometime?”

“Like on a date?”

“Yeah, like that. I’d like to buy you a drink.”

“Sure!” I said. “I’d love to see your exhibit.” He gave me a card with his name, email, and phone number on it. “We’re going about all this a little backward, don’t you think?”

“I guess so,” he blushed a little and smiled sweetly, “Hey, when we’re actually doing it… is there anything I should avoid, anything you don’t like?”

“Oh no,” I said, “I’m pretty open. Surprise me!”

“Ok,” he said, “I hope I’m not too freaky for you.”

“Don’t worry about that,” I said, “You’d have to be pretty weird to freak me out. And I can be pretty freaky myself, you know.” I tried to smile wolfishly. I don’t know whether I was successful.

Martha bustled back into the room, a big video camera balanced on her shoulder.

“Okay kids,” she said, “It’s showtime!”


“You kids just go ahead and have fun and pretend I’m not here, ok?”

We did.

Tiberius stood up, offering me his hand.  I took it, and he pulled me up next to him. I could feel his body heat next to me. He was strong, and his tall, lean body pressed up against mine felt so good. I could see his erection, outlined in his black jeans, and it looked delicious.

He kissed me, and I kissed him boldly back, fucking his mouth with my tongue. He pulled me closer to him, kissing me hard, his hands exploring down my back, further and further, until they were squeezing my butt. He had big, sexy hands, sculptor’s hands.

I had already completely forgotten about Martha and her camera. My entire focus was on Tiberius. I was being more aggressive than I normally would ever have been. We were there to fuck, and to put on a good show, so what the hell, I figured. I stepped back from him, breaking the kiss, and pulled my purple floral top off over my head. I’d bought matching red lace bra and panties especially for this. My denim shorts fell to the floor. I noted with pleasure that Tiberius was gawking at me.

We fell onto the bed together. I was all over him. I stuck my hand inside his black t-shirt and played with his tight little nipples. I rubbed his cock through the front of his jeans while we kissed. I was pretty sure he wasn’t wearing any underpants. I reached behind my back, unsnapping my bra and setting the girls free. His dick was straining at the fabric that enclosed it. It had been a while since I’d had a real live penis to play with. And this one was going to take me out on a date afterward. This was turning out to be even more fun than I had anticipated! With one finger, I traced the length of his shaft up and down through his black denim jeans. I could feel every ridge, every texture.

“Oh fuck,” Tiberius moaned, “Oh God… Oh fuck…!” He disengaged from me, rising up onto his knees and running his hands through his hair, his face a mask of ecstasy and agony.

I guessed he was coming in his pants, which was actually pretty hot, and made me flush a little with pride: I caused that! I guessed we’d have to stop filming and take a little break and start over again in a while, but that was really fine by me. He’d have more stamina the next time around.

Tiberius threw his head back and moaned wordlessly. He was already tall, and even on his knees he seemed to loom over me. He seemed to grow as I watched, until he towered inhumanely above me.

His moan trailed off into a bubbling, hissing gurgle. As I watched, petrified, his face started to transform. His eyes grew larger and rounder, the pupils expanding until they were a couple of bulging saucer-sized disks, black as two pools of interstellar void. His nose disappeared, melting into his flesh; and his mouth, those sexy full lips, became a curved, snapping beak-thing.

I glanced over at Martha, who was clutching her video camera like a photojournalist in the teeth of a hurricane. ‘If we survive this,’ I remember thinking, ‘she should win a Pulitzer.’

He ripped his stretchy black t-shirt off over his head and a writhing forest of tentacles exploded from his abdomen. They were flesh-pink, covered in suckers, and ranged in thickness from the size of an asparagus stalk to the thick branch of an oak tree. They rushed greedily toward me, swaying, groping, probing, full of intelligent desire.

Tendrils wrapped around my arms and legs, affixing themselves to my flesh with hundreds of powerful suction cups. I couldn’t move now, no way. The tentacles were warm and strong, pure sinuous muscle. It was as if I were lashed to the bed.  A thin tentacle wrapped around my neck; once, twice, three times, threatening to restrict my breathing. The tip, barely the size of my pinky finger, stroked my lower lip flirtatiously.

Other tentacles were wrapping themselves around my body, augmenting the bonds that held me tight. I felt my legs forced apart, wide, wider, until it felt like my tendons were going to rip. I thought my hips were going to pop right out of their sockets. Prehensile tendrils ripped off my underwear, tearing my fancy new panties into lacy red shreds. My cunt was spread wide open, my clitoris felt like it was standing straight up. I could actually see it, a little pink nubbin, if I craned my neck. The air in the room was cool on my soaking wet pussy. I was drenched down there, I could tell. It felt like I was already sitting in a puddle of my own come.

More tentacles came at me, stroking my face, tickling my ears and the insides of my elbows, caressing my calves. Tentacles squeezed my breasts like Japanese bondage, forcing my tits up and out until my nipples were pointed skyward, red and swollen to the point of bursting. A fat tendril forced its way into my mouth, wrestling playfully with my tongue.

A tentacle, or tentacles, traced my butt crack, forcing my ass cheeks apart. I felt an irresistible force pushing against my anus, infiltrating my asshole. The slick, slimy tentacle eagerly wormed its way up my butt, stretching my ass to the absolute limit. It felt like it was the size of my freaking forearm!

I realized that I was screaming, and stopped, choking off in mid-howl. What was happening to me certainly wasn’t painful, and it had become almost too surreal to be actually scary anymore. And it felt good. The wriggling, squirming thing in my butthole was causing some absolutely exquisite sensations; the delicate little tendrils that were now curling around my nipples and hypnotically stroking my inner thighs felt amazing. My clit was swollen and distended. My cunt positively ached for touch.

He unbuttoned his jeans, shucking them off and away with spindly arms that seemed to be withering away like vestigial limbs; de-evolution at warp-speed. As I’d suspected earlier, he wasn’t wearing anything underneath. There were tentacles, more tentacles, a writhing mass of them; and at the heart of that undulating forest was something else. It wasn’t a penis, and it wasn’t another tentacle. It was like a great animate stamen, an alien, tubular, bulbous thing, and it was coming toward me like a serpent, weaving back and forth like a cobra about to strike.

I knew exactly where it was headed, too.

The thing was physically hot against my flesh; its touch was just this side of painful. It insinuated itself into my cunt. The tube-thing was neither as hard nor as rigid as a penis; it was like being penetrated by an extrusion of molten magma.

I grunted as the stamen-thing buried itself in my cunt. As soon as it was all the way inside, it started swelling and pulsing. The tentacles binding me flexed in time with it. It was growing, longer and thicker, like an expanding balloon, and it was stretching my pussy almost to the tearing point. The fatter it got, the more violently it moved inside me. The tentacle up my ass was still writhing, twisting around. More tentacles were holding my mouth open. Things were completely out of control. My stomach bulged with the alien things inside my body. I was screaming again, but I wasn’t screaming in pain or fear. I was going to have an orgasm, a righteous, massive orgasm. My clit felt like a beacon, a lighthouse on a wave-battered cliff.

Tiberius-thing was fucking me with his stamen, so hard now that he was picking me up by the cunt and slamming me back down on the bed. I was sobbing, weeping, gurgling through my tears as I came and came and came again, a pounding waterfall of continuous orgasm. My body shook and heaved as the thing used me, slamming me up and down, fucking me down to my component atoms. I realized in a dim, lucid corner of my mind, that I couldn’t take much more of this.

He bellowed, the kind of shriek a bird of prey makes as dives onto a stricken bunny in a grassy field, and the appendage that was distending my cunt went rigid. I felt it come, pumping hot fluid into me as if from a fire hose. It squirted and squirted, leaking out onto my thighs and oozing down the crack of my ass.  Finally, it went limp, and I felt the tentacles slowly start to disengage.

I was incoherent. I watched through lidded eyes as the thing exited my gaping cunt, the various tentacles and appendages and tendrils retreating back into Tiberius’ body. I was fingering my poor neglected clitoris, coming again, but more sedately, as his body re-absorbed the tentacles, and his face melted back into human form.

Tiberius was drenched in sweat, hollow and shaky as if he had just run a marathon. He collapsed onto the bed beside me. I could feel his heart pounding. His breath came in desperate ragged gasps. I was covered in come, lying in a puddle of the stuff, as if someone had dumped a five gallon bucket of semen on my pelvis. My nipples stiffened and my gut clenched as I fingered myself to one last orgasm. I kissed him softly on his sweaty lips.

“Well!” Martha said, finally setting her camera down, “Now that was different!”


I would have put the whole thing down to some bizarre hallucination if it hadn’t been for the bruises. My cunt and asshole were sore, my nipples and clit were tender; and my body was covered in circular purple bruises that ranged from dime to half-dollar size.

Dr. Nguyen, my gyn, tut-tutted at the bruising. “Kinky!” she grinned up at me; but she couldn’t find anything wrong. “You have safe sex!” she admonished me as I stiffly left the examination room. “Have fun but do it safe, ok?”

All the lab work came back just fine.

The check was waiting for me in my mailbox when I got home. It was made out for a thousand dollars more than I had expected.


I had about decided that I had made the whole episode up, fading bruises and all, when the video went live on their website.

I had expected to be mortified, watching myself get laid; but instead I found it difficult to identify myself with the half-naked girl on the bed who was kissing on the tall, black-clad guy. Tiberius really was a good-looking guy, I thought, way more photogenic than me.

And then the transformation. It was hot. I don’t even particularly like that kind of anime, and it was hot. I felt myself getting all moist and turned-on, watching my body being taken, ravished and fucked by that weird octopus-alien-monster-yuggoth-thing. I knew what everyone who watched the video must be asking themselves: how did they do that? It looked like it might be really high-end computer animation.


I called Tiberius on the number he’d given me. It was a cell phone.

“So, you still going to buy me that drink? I think you owe me at least two…”

“Um, sure. Does that mean you still want to go out with me?”

“Sure. Yeah. I’d like to see your exhibit at the gallery.”

“Ok! Whatcha doing tonight?”

“Nothing, I’m totally free. … Um, so, ah, how often do you do that? The transformation thing?”

“It only happens when I get over-excited.”

“And how often do you get over-excited?”

“I’m not really sure. I haven’t been with a girl in… kind of a long time.”

“Ok. See you at eight? And remember: you owe me at least two drinks!”


The phone rang. I thought it was Tiberius with second thoughts, calling back to cancel out of our date.

“What are you doing tomorrow night?” It was Roger, and he was being halfway civil. Almost friendly. “We’d like you to do another video. A girl-girl scene. The pay rate’s the same.”

“Oh yeah? Does she have tentacles? Bat wings? Does she turn into a wolf when the moon is full?”

“No,” Roger sighed, “As far as I know she’s just a girl. I think you’ll find her pretty cute too.” He allowed.

“Ok,” I said, “Count me in.”


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Rain on a Two-Lane Highway

It was an epic trek from East to West, a nearly spontaneous roadtrip-vacation that sent me speeding across that almost inconceivably vast stretch of continent called North America. Just another guy in just another car, pushing forty and holding his breath against middle-age. A long, long, long stretch of this country, as seen from the inside of a rental car on I-90 with the cruise control dialed in at 74 mph is flat, banal, and same-ish. Exit ramps, gas stations, fast food joints, motels and McMansions repeat themselves like an animated porno GIF.  I finally climbed out of the desert into the setting sun, caught one brief glimpse of the snow-capped peaks of the Cascades, and then began my long steep descent, plunging into thick forests of evergreen, silent and impenetrable. The clouds seemed to extend all the way down to the ground; flashes of brilliant green amongst the mists, now and then a fleeting glimpse of water, a working harbor, my wipers constantly on a slow intermittent.

A wet two-lane highway, shrouded with trees. The darkness that enveloped me was thick and heavy, as if a wool blanket had been thrown over the car. I found their house, old friends reunited, if only for a night. Erich and July, compadres from days gone by. I had once considered poaching July from under Erich’s nose back when they were first dating, and she had seemed at least tentatively willing to be poached, but nothing had ever come of it. Home-made veggie burgers, salad from the garden, sweet potato fries, a bottle of red wine and then another. Their daughter, Freya, was a teenager now. I remembered seeing her baby pictures. Strange, how time accelerates as you get older. She was an attractive girl, neither a surly nor a prissy teen; she seemed intelligent and shy, fascinated by life in New York, but a little too bashful to really join in the conversation, which became louder and more boisterous as the wine disappeared. She had long, carefully brushed blonde hair and glasses. She was tall and slightly awkward and had a pretty smile. She reminded me of a young giraffe. I felt her eyes on me all the way through dinner. Her solemn gaze made me feel oddly self-conscious.

Solarium overlooking the back yard and the evergreen trees beyond. They made the futon into a bed for me, crisp high-thread count cotton sheets, down pillows. A long way away from the shithole apartment we had briefly shared in the distant past, sandwiched between a strip-mall and the railroad tracks, choked with art supplies, bongs, paperbacks and compact discs, the ephemera of a liberal arts education. I snuggled naked under the covers, comfortably half-drunk and exhausted from travel, resisting for once the habitual urge to jerk off. Sleep came like a sledgehammer, and I do not remember dreaming.

I woke up stupid early, with an erection, a dry mouth, and the shadow of a headache.  Deciphered the complexities of their coffee machine, picked up yesterdays Times, crawled back into bed. The headache and the morning wood started to fade as night surrendered to early morning. The sun had not yet risen, though the overcast sky was pale with the coming dawn.

I sat up in the bed, sipping my coffee and not really reading an article about the recession while dim light insinuated itself over the damp, dewy garden.

Freya slipped into the room, looking like a page out of the Land’s End catalog in her blue flannel pajamas. She carried a large glass of orange juice and a spiral-bound notebook.

-Getting ready for school? I asked.

-No, silly.  It’s the middle of the night. [not technically true] And it’s Saturday. [I had forgotten. Days of the week, for the time being, had become irrelevant]

She sat down on the bed next to me. I felt cruelly conscious of my nakedness under the white cotton sheet.

-Would you read something I’ve written? I could feel the tension in her voice.

-Of course. I set down my paper and put the coffee aside. Girlish, curvilinear handwriting. It was Harry Potter slash fiction, I was surprised and somewhat discomfited to discover.  Rather naive and unpolished, but surprisingly well-written. And kind of hot too. Her story was told from Hermione’s perspective, peeping through a hole in the wall as the evil professor Snape tormented and lambasted young Harry Potter, eventually making him bend over and drop his trousers for a bare-bottom spanking, and then poor Harry, red-faced and red-cheeked, was forced to suck Snape’s magnificent alabaster dick.

-Do you think I could ever be a writer?

-Absolutely.  Don’t let anyone discourage you.  Never stop writing.

-Read more.  Read it aloud.

She snuggled up to me like a big, friendly house cat, and I was painfully aware of the warmth of her young female body pressed up against mine.  I continued reading, this time out loud.  It was a shockingly detailed anatomical description of a blowjob, with Harry reluctant and ashamed at first, then becoming more and more relaxed and even eager as Snape took his pleasure in the young wizard’s mouth.

‘Hermione’s hand slipped between her kneeling legs and caressed the throbbing wetness between her thighs as she watched Harry’s head bob up and down, faster and faster, Snape snarling as he approached his climax.’

Freya nuzzled closer against me. Her leg was pressed against my own. I set down her notebook and put my arm around her shoulder. She rested her head on my shoulder. I could see my own cock clearly outlined in bas-relief under the clean white sheet. She slipped her little hand under the covers and tentatively stroked my naked thigh.

I kissed her.

She kissed me back, sweet, eager, and inept, throwing her whole being into it. She took my hand, guided it inside her pajama tops, and I was cupping her small, perfect breast. I tweaked the stiff little nipple, and she jumped, kissing me harder.

Emboldened, I slipped my other hand down the front of her pajama bottoms. She stiffened, her tongue frozen in my mouth. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath.  Her pussy was covered with impossibly soft fur, like the pelt of a baby seal. I parted the lips with my finger. She was very wet, hot and slippery.

Freya broke off our kiss, shook her head ‘no’, and took my wrist, removing my hand from down her pants. I felt chagrined, but she smiled up at me, and flipped the sheet back to reveal my erection, hard and swollen, bobbing slightly in time with my pulse, the bulbous red glans oozing a steady stream of sticky clear juice.

She grinned wolfishly, bent over, and kissed it, right on the head, licked the length of my shaft like a big hot popsicle, making my dick stand rigidly at attention.

She looked up at me as if to ask ‘is this okay?’ I did not tell her no.

She opened her mouth and swallowed my penis, as much of it as she was able. Maybe the top third fit into her mouth. I don’t think she had much experience sucking dick; what she was lacking in technique she made up for with enthusiasm. I lifted her pretty straight blonde hair aside so I could watch my cock being devoured by her hungry young lips.  She sucked on me like a piece of rock candy, like she was trying to get past the hard outer shell and at the sweet sticky nougat inside. Her mouth was closed around the head of my dick ferociously, as if she were trying to inhale me, vacuum-seal me, collapse my entire body from the cock on up. It took every ounce of what little remained of my self-control to not grab her by the back of the head and force her mouth all the way down my aching cock, shoving my dick down her throat and fucking her face until I came.

I imagined jumping up, yanking her pajama pants down, stuffing my cock up her juicy young pussy. I imagined fucking her hard and deep, jamming my finger up her tiny pink butt hole. I pictured her bouncing up and down on my cock, golden hair flying, miniature boobs jumping in time with my every thrust. I imagined covering her mouth with my own as she orgasmed, her arms wrapped around me and her lithe body trembling as she came; and I imagined coming inside her, my balls mashed up against her vulva, pumping her virgin pussy full to overflowing with my semen.

Instead, I grasped my own cock, wrapping my thumb and forefinger around the base and jerking off, with rapid butterfly strokes, into her eagerly sucking little mouth.

Somewhere in the far-off distance of the kitchen, I could hear one of her parents stirring. My balls were fat and heavy between my legs. My body clenched and spasmed, my orgasm tickling the base of my spine and curling my toes. I lifted my hips up off the bed, screaming silently.

Freya stayed with me, long after the orgasm had subsided, attached to my rapidly shrinking wet noodle like a nursing kitten, swallowing hungrily and milking every last drop of semen out of me. It was disconcerting like she was wringing out an used-up tube of toothpaste.

Someone turned on a television in another room. I heard the cheerful, vacuous voices of the morning news. Freya finally detached herself from my crotch, still grinning happily, straightened out her glasses and buttoned up the top of her pjs, which had somehow come undone. She took her notebook and her half-empty glass of orange juice and left me where I lay: a panting, limp, sticky, wet mess.

We all had breakfast together, crepes and vegetarian bacon. Promises to stay in touch, promises to come visit, well-wishes and offers of food to take with, home-made bread and organic butter, lunch for the road.

And then it was time for me to go. They walked with me out to my car.  Erich shook my hand, July hugged me, and then Erich gave in and hugged me. I could see Freya watching through the window in the solarium, but I couldn’t read her face. I pulled out of the driveway and turned right, out and away, their house swallowed up in the northwestern rainforest behind me.

Later, she will send me letters and emails; she will remember my birthday. I will hear about high school and boyfriends, and she will tell me about losing her virginity. She will ask me my opinion about colleges; I will read her rough drafts; she will confess to me that she loves anal sex; and one drunken horny night we will masturbate for each other on webcam. She will send me a signed copy of her first short story collection. Someday I will be invited to her wedding, and feel at once proud, awkward, out-of-place and disturbingly old as her friends and new husband address me as ‘Mister’.

But all that is in the future. Now I am just another car on the two-lane highway, another guy with a guilty conscience. It starts to rain in earnest, and I turn the wipers on high. The road is still blurrily obscured, and I curse the wiper blades before I realize that I am weeping.


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Barry’s Oasis

I snagged the first crap job that came my way, working the overnight shift at Barry’s Oasis, an independent filling station on Route 89, a couple miles out of town.  I picked up an used bicycle and a semi-furnished room in the basement of a sympathetic local chiropractor.  I closed my eyes, but I couldn’t sleep.  I tried to masturbate, but my cunt was dry as dust, and phantasmal redneck cops kept lurking on the edge of my imagination.

For a crap job, it really wasn’t half bad, except for the sleep deprivation, which gave me a constant upset stomach and a permanent feeling of jittery disorientation. I worked six nights a week, midnight to eight, with the occasional morning or afternoon shift thrown in just to spice things up.

Barry was a jack-Mormon with three different ex-wives and an epic beer belly that spilled out over his belt buckle and threatened to burst through his shirt.  Barry didn’t trust banks and dealt only in cash.  Every Sunday night he’d drop by in his Chevy Astro minivan and his black cowboy hat, open up the lock-box, and count out a stack of twenties.  That was our paycheck, and if it was short one or two bills from what we thought it should be, we knew better than to complain.  Barry didn’t trust dudes, he only ever hired chicks.  He hated black, gays, liberals, and Mexicans, and I was pretty sure he was dealing dope on the side.  Barry was a good old boy.

Tammy was my co-worker and nominal boss.  She was Barry’s ex-step daughter by way of his first marriage; she referred to him un-fondly as ‘Uncle Barry’.  She’d been working at the filling station almost two years and supposedly was night manager, but that didn’t mean she got paid any more than me.  She was seventeen, but looked twenty-five; and was close to being pretty in the same kind of way that David Bowie was close to being female.  She had almost-blonde hair, with bangs straight out of the ‘80s, hairsprayed into a wave, boobs that stuck out from under her coveralls like a pair of sno-cones, a sharp hatchet-face that usually looked angry even when she wasn’t, and a constellation of raised white scars all over her upper arms, neck and chest that looked like they had been put there with a knife.  Her highest ambition was to be a stripper in New York City.

There wasn’t much to do on the overnight shift.  Boredom was the hardest part of the job.  We didn’t get much car traffic because Barry didn’t take credit cards, and the big rigs knew better than to stop at the Oasis.  Occasionally a car would stop in, the driver too drunk or self-important to pump his own gas.  Other than that, we had to mop the floors; we had to pump a couple hundred gallons of regular over into the high-grade tank; we had to dump used motor oil into the sink-hole out back.  Otherwise, it was mostly just a matter of staying awake.  Sometimes one of us would watch the store while the other took a nap, but that was dangerous because it was all too easy for both of us to fall asleep, and there was no knowing how long we’d be out.  So mostly we sat around, drinking coffee (or in my case Diet Coke) while Tammy chain-smoked, and we talked.

“How’d you lose your virginity?” Tammy asked.  We were sitting outside on the curb underneath the No Smoking sign.  Tammy took her coffee black, no sugar.  She tossed her cigarette butt in the general direction of the self-serve island.  Above the mercury-vapor flood lights, a million stars stared down at us like silent witnesses.  I’d never been in a place with so many stars before.

“I was eighteen,” I said, “and it was in the front seat of my Honda Civic.  I was dating this guy JJ, a sophomore who was almost three years younger than me.  We were both virgins.  He had a really big dick, but I don’t think either of us realized just how big it was at the time.  Neither one of us had anything to compare it with.  JJ was very sweet and kind of shy and awkward, like an oversized puppy dog.  He was good.  I was his first ever girlfriend.  I taught him everything: how to kiss, how to touch me, how to lick… he was an eager student and a quick learner.”

I smiled at the memory of those orgasms in the dark inside of my car, JJ squatting between my thighs, my feet propped up on the dashboard, his tongue all over my clit while I writhed and wiggled in the purest ecstasy.  He’d get two or three of those long fingers up my pussy and another would be tormenting my asshole, and he’d just dance the tip of his tongue over my aching clitoris just the way I’d taught him.  He could do that for hours, he never seemed to get tired of it.  He’d make me come until I couldn’t come any more, leave me as limp as an unstrung marionette.

My pussy salivated at the memory.  I swished the sickly-brown liquid around the bottom of the cup, making the ice rattle.  “I got really good at sucking his dick,” I went on, “I mean I’d done it before, but I perfected my skills on JJ.  I got to where I could take the whole thing into my mouth; I got so I could suck him forever, keep him balanced right on the edge of coming without pushing him over the edge until I decided to.  Then he’d squirt his hot come into my mouth, he’d be practically weeping by this time and I’d just devour him, suck him all down until there was no more left to swallow…”

I was definitely moist by this time, wetter than I’d been in a lifetime.  My clit was poiking obnoxiously out.  I shifted the way I was sitting on the cement curb, surreptitiously squooshing my vulva, making my clitoris throb and pleasantly ache.

“I wanted him inside me.  He was nervous about it.  I’m not sure why.  Maybe he was scared of hurting me, maybe he was afraid he wouldn’t be good at it.  Maybe it was the last step for him toward becoming an adult and he didn’t feel ready.  I don’t know.  But I finally talked him into doing it with me.”

“We tried it with me lying on my back in the passenger seat and him climbing on top of me, but that felt really awkward and JJ was having trouble getting it in.” I smiled at that memory. “He kept rubbing his cock up and down my crotch, which felt amazing, but he couldn’t seem to find the hole.  It was driving me crazy.  I was about to reach down there, grab his dick and take matters into my own hands when all of a sudden his eyes got really wide, his body went all stiff and he choked out “Oh Shit” in this quiet little voice and then he squirted all over me.  It was more come than I’d ever seen: all over my pubes, my tummy, all the way up to my tits.  The stuff filled up my belly button and ran over the sides, it oozed down into my pussy.  JJ was mortified, stammering apologies even as his dick dripped more semen onto me.  He was embarrassed, terrified that I’d be pissed.  I thought it was funny and cute, and kind of sexy too.”

Tammy lit another cigarette.  I seemed to have her full attention.  The night was dead still.  We could hear the trucks away on the interstate, and the occasional whir of a bat buzzing by the big Oasis sign. There was nothing else.

“We made out for a while, and I made clear to JJ that I wasn’t angry at him, and he started to relax.  Then I went down on him until his dick was nice and hard again.  When he was fully erect, dick straining upward and quivering at my touch, we traded places.  This time he lay on his back in the passenger seat and I clambered up on top of him.  I took his cock in both hands and aimed.  It was trickier than I had imagined.  Finally I got us positioned right.  I guided the head of his cock in between my hungry lips.  It felt incredibly good right there in the doorway to my cunt.  My clit seemed to bulge out like a mini-hard-on of my own.  I could have easily gotten off just like that.  I bore down on him, trying to get the whole pulsating, living thing up inside me.  It hurt more than I had thought it would.  I could feel myself tearing, but even so I kept at it, lowering my body gingerly down onto his girth.  His eyes were wide, like an owl.  I couldn’t believe how fucking wet I was.  The deeper in I got, the more intense the pleasure was and the pain sort of faded away into the background.  And then he was all the way in, I could feel his balls up against my thighs, his pubes were mashed up with mine.  I started rocking back and forth on him, like I was riding a bull, building up to this massive come.  His big hands were squeezing my ass.  I reached down and started rubbing my clit, the whole area down there was just soaked in my juice, and that sent me.  I came harder than I’d ever come before.  I think I screamed.  I collapsed onto his sweaty bare chest, covering him in kisses.  I didn’t realize for a little while he’d come too, at the same time as me.”

“I bled like something out of a horror film.  I was on maxi-pads for like a week, walking bow-legged the whole time, but it was worth it.  He fucked me three or four more times after that.  I was training him up right, he was starting to get real good at it.  Then out of nowhere, JJ dumped me for a girl his own age.  My period came late, but at least it came.  I almost gave myself an ulcer waiting for it.”

“Nice,” Tammy said, grinding out her cigarette.  “Too bad he was a douche to you.”

“It’s ok.  I got over it.”

“Have you ever masturbated at work?”

“No.  Never.”

“I do it all the time.” Tammy smiled a crooked little smile.  “The girl who used to work here before you, we used to do it together sometimes, sitting across from each other right in the aisle.  She was a black chick.  It was pretty hot.”

Before I could even say anything, she shucked off her gray coveralls, and pulled the t-shirt off over her head.  She was wearing a plain beige bra and rainbow-striped panties.  She unsnapped her bra.  The words ‘Love Always’ were tattooed across her breasts in spidery blotchy blue letters.  Grinning wide, she slithered her panties down.  Where I’d expected to see a bush the same dishwater color as the hair on her head, there was nothing down there but soft bare skin.  Thick, purple labia flopped out of her pussy.  A clear string of wetness seeped out like a strand of spider web.  I could see her pink clit.

She did it right in front of me, legs spread wide apart, right there in the open on the cement curb under the harsh glare of the mercury vapor lights.  She held her cunt open with two fingers, making her clit stand out like a pencil eraser.  As I watched, enthralled, she spread her wetness slowly up and down, up and down, coating her entire vulva.  One finger started drawing little circles around her clitoris, slowly at first then faster and faster.  She locked eyes with me, biting down hard on her lower lip, and plunged two fingers deep into her pussy while her other hand kept busy, a hummingbird on her clit.  Her stomach heaved and contracted, and she lifted her naked ass up off the cement, fingers buried to the knuckle in her juicy cunt, her face a rigid mask of ecstasy.

When she was all done, she licked her fingers clean, like a fastidious cat, and lazily pulled her shirt and coveralls back on.  It was getting early.  The sky in the east was glowing pink.  To my sleep deprived eyes, all the colors seemed lurid and intense.   There were cars on the road now.  Our rush hour, such as it was, was about to begin.

“Shit man, I really needed that.  Thanks.” Tammy winked at me.  “’scuse me now while I go powder my nose…” She left me there sitting on the curb, horny and paralytic, as the first SUV rolled up to the full-service island.

That afternoon, in the stuffy semi-dark of my basement apartment, I tried to whack off.  My pussy was plenty wet, but I couldn’t quite push myself over that edge.  All I got was frustrated and sore.


“I saw Uncle Barry fucking another girl once, back when he was still married to my mother.”

It was just after two in the morning.  We hadn’t had a customer in over an hour, and we’d decided the floor could just mop its damn self.  We were sitting out back next to the dumpster, looking out over the sink hole, and the surreal nightscape of the desert beyond.

“I came home from school and my mom was still at work and Barry’s van was parked in the driveway.  I could hear them from all the way outside.  It sounded like someone was being murdered.  I stuck my head in the front door.  No one was there.  The noise was coming from the kitchen.”

Tammy got up, poured herself a fresh cup of coffee, snagged a pack of Camels from behind the counter.  I was sipping Diet Coke out of a straw.

“They were both naked.  He had this girl kneeling on a kitchen chair, bent over the back of it, her hair all over her face.  She wasn’t that much older than me.  I thought I recognized her, I thought she was in high school.  He was fucking her up the butt.  I had a really good view.  Her pussy was wide open, she was playing with herself while he fucked her.  She was screaming really loud, her throat sounded all raw, and he was pulling on her hair, but I didn’t think she was hating it one bit.  She had really big boobs and they were shaking and jiggling all over the place while they went at it.  Uncle Barry had these fat balls that hung down and slapped against her hairy pussy every time he shoved his dick into her.  All of a sudden he throws his head back and yells something like ‘HOLY SHIT I’M COMING! TAKE IT BITCH!!’ and he yanks his dick out of her ass and pumps it really hard in his hand and then he squirted white stuff all over her back.  She was breathing super hard and raspy and I knew exactly what her fingers were doing between her legs, I could even hear them squooshing in her cunt. “

She took a long drag off her cigarette.  “I thought it was the sexiest thing I had ever seen.  I stuck my hand down my pants and found out that my pussy was sopping wet.  It was wet like I’d peed myself.  While they calmed down and cleaned up and disentangled themselves, I made myself scarce.  I slipped out of the house and went for a long walk.  By the time I got back, Barry’s van was gone and the house was empty.”

“My friend Vanessa and me had been fooling around for a while already.  It had started off with us comparing bodies, checking out each other’s junk, and it was all pretty much downhill from there.  You know.  We started with kissing, touching, exploring, and before you knew it, we were both sucking pussy and licking clit like a couple of grade-A junior dykes.”  She grinned, and stuck out her tongue lewdly at me.  “Its funny, I always thought it would taste gross, but it turns out I didn’t mind it one bit.  I got really good at doing it, too.  I used to go over to her house, tell our moms we were doing homework, and then we’d lick each other out for hours on end.  I got to where I could make her come so hard, just using my tongue.  She’d be chewing her arm off trying to keep from screaming.  Her mom would be watching TV in the other room, and I’d have my head in between Vanessa’s long skinny legs, licking her sweet little twat like a dog at a water bowl, making her come and come and come again until she was sobbing, ‘til her whole body was shaking.”

“I was so jealous of Vanessa, that she could come like that.  I pretended to have one sometimes, to make her feel like she was accomplishing something, or just to get her to stop when it got to be too much, but really, even though what she was doing felt nice, I was pretty sure I’d never had an orgasm.  Maybe a little tingly feeling, but definitely nothing that would make me want to writhe and kick and scream.  I tried masturbating, but that was even worse.  It was like being on a roller coaster that only went up and up, and never over the hump and down.”

“So anyway, that same night after I caught Barry and that chick going at it, I went over to Vanessa’s house to do some ‘studying’.  I made her come so hard she fell off the bed and we both got the giggles something awful.  It’s a good thing her mom didn’t come check up on us… Vanessa was naked from the waist down, and my face was all slimy with her come.”

“When she went down on me, I asked Vanessa to stick the handle of her hairbrush up my butt.  She was all like, ‘Are you sure?  Really? Eww…’, but she went ahead and did it.  I think she was just as curious as me, really.  She got me all nice and wet with her tongue, then I rolled over and got on all fours on her bed, and she stuck that thing right up my asshole.  She wasn’t as gentle as she should have been, and when she jammed it in, I almost freaked out, almost couldn’t take it.  But then my body relaxed, and she pushed it the rest of the way in.  It felt weird in there, not bad at all.  Vanessa got the giggles all over again.  But then she started licking my cunt and playing with the hairbrush stuck up my ass, and I knew I had struck gold.  I just started fiddling my clit while she licked and butt-fucked me, and it happened.  It really was like fireworks, I just slipped over the edge, it felt like my body was exploding, it seemed to go on forever and ever.  I really was screaming into the bed sheets, and her mom did come and check up on us this time.  ‘We’re fine mom, just fooling around!’  Getting the hairbrush out was trickier than getting it in in the first place, and there was a little poop on the end.”

Tammy tossed her cigarette butt into the sinkhole and lit a new one.  “I think that really grossed her out.  It’s funny.  I’d go down on her whenever she wanted, even at school, even when she was on the rag, I didn’t care.  I’d even lick her asshole sometimes.  She loved that, but she wouldn’t admit it.  She’d never do that to me… I guess she thought it was weird or something.  But she sure loved having it done to her.  Then she goes and dumps me for the first guy who asks her out.  She dropped out of school.  Now she’s got a little girl of her own.”

“So what about you?” Tammy asked, blowing a white cloud of cigarette smoke into the night air, “Have you ever fooled around with another girl?”

“Oh once or twice,” I said, “My last real girlfriend developed this nasty habit of forging checks and got us in a heap of trouble.”

“Really? Do tell…”

“The cops busted us right in the middle of getting in on.  They banged in the door of her trailer, I don’t know if they had a warrant or anything, it doesn’t matter now.  Four big fat redneck cops, guns drawn like we were dangerous or something.  One of them was female, I remember thinking she had huge breasts.  They were there to arrest Marla, turns out she had written over a hundred thousand dollars in bad checks.  But first they wanted to see some action.

“Marla had been going down on me when they busted the door in, and they were all ‘Oh no, don’t stop, don’t mind us!’  I was sprawled out on the bed, totally naked, and Marla was just wearing panties, nothing else.  They all stood over us while she licked and fingered me, making nasty comments and laughing.  They all still had their guns out.  I don’t know about Marla, but I was freaked out, so scared I was shaking, sick to my stomach.  I couldn’t come, but her tongue was driving me ape shit!  This went on for what felt like forever, and by the end I was squirming and gibbering with frustration, which amused the cops to no end.”

“Then the lady cop found our toy box (‘searching for evidence’, she called it) and they rooted through our stuff, hooting and snorting at our toy collection, calling us ‘Lesbo Preverts’ and ‘Demented Little Bull Dykes’.  It was humiliating.  In the end they made me put on our strap-on, and handcuffed Marla to the kitchen sink.  The female cop yanked Marla’s panties down around her ankles.  Then one of the guy cops made me stick a butt-plug, lubed up with dish soap up her ass, and then they made me fuck her from behind while they all watched.”

“Marla was sobbing, weeping into the sink at this point, but her pussy was also super-wet, and I knew she was really turned on too.  The cops were all pointing their pistols at us, shouting ‘Faster!  Harder!  Fuck her!  Fuck the shit out of that little cunt!” So I did.  I fucked her as hard as I could.  The harder I fucked her, the louder the cops shouted and the more Marla cried, until the end, she was screaming hysterically, slamming back against my every thrust.  Between the two of us, we were about as wet as Lake Michigan.  I could feel the juices running down my legs.  I could tell Marla was right on the edge of coming, and then I realized that I was going to come too.  I’d never had an orgasm from fucking her before, but between the friction from the base of the dildo bumping up against my clit, and the sheer intensity of the situation, the cops all screaming at us with their guns still out; it just pushed me over the edge.  I grabbed Marla’s hips and jammed, as hard as I could.  Somewhere I was still aware of the cops and their guns, I think at least one of them had his dick out, and I was distantly aware of Marla rocking her way through an orgasm, but mostly I was just coming.”

“I think I blacked out a little bit, it was that intense.  The orgasm just rolled straight through me, and all I could do was hang on for the ride.  It was like a massive thunderstorm inside of me.  My nipples felt like they were going to pop right off my tits.  When I was finally done gasping and shaking, we were still surrounded by chortling cops, and Marla was a limp mass slumped into our sink.  The cops un-cuffed her, and let us pull some underwear on; then they handcuffed us both and threw us in the back of a squad car and drove us down to the station.  It was the last time that Marla and I were together.”

“They took her away somewhere, and threw me into a holding cell with a bunch of drunk housewives and hookers.  I sat in there all that night and all the next day, and then they released me.  Marla ended up going to prison.  I haven’t been able to get off, not at all, since that all happened.”

“Wow,” Tammy said, tossing the dregs of her coffee into the sink hole.  “That’s pretty fucked up.”

“Its ok,” I said, “I’m getting over it.”

“I had an abortion when I was fifteen,” she said, “I never told my mother.  Barry drove me to a clinic across the state line.”

We sat together in the dark for a long while, just sitting and listening to the night.  I could feel her body heat next to me.  I wasn’t exactly attracted to her, but I wondered, just wondered if…

And then a car pulled into the station and the spell was broken.  We got up and went out front.  A blue sedan was sloppily parked in front of the self-serve island.  We watched the guy fill his tank.  He was stumbling drunk; he had no business walking, never mind driving.  He went in and paid Tammy, went back to his car, came back and asked for the key to the bathroom.  I could smell the booze on his breath from across the floor.

While he was retching loudly in the men’s room, Tammy went through the contents of his wallet.  She extracted five twenties; gave me two, and tossed his wallet into the backseat of his car.  When the guy finally emerged from the bathroom, he returned the key, thanked us, and drove away into the night.

Tammy fetched us two Budweiser tall boys out of the cooler.  We sat out back and drank them together.  “Do you mind if I whack off?” she asked.  I didn’t mind at all.


I tried to masturbate again that day, but when I tried to picture Tammy’s head between my thighs, all I could see was those fat cops.  And they all had Barry’s fleshy pockmarked face.  I finally gave up in disgust and wrapped myself around a bottle of cheap red wine.

I was an hour late for work, and viciously hung over.  The bike ride in helped me sweat some of it out, but I was still hurting when I finally rolled into the oasis at one in the morning.  I was queasy and my eyeballs hurt and the world sort of shimmered through a vibrato haze.  I thought I might just vomit.  It was payday, and Barry’s tan Chevy Astro was parked by the door.  I had been afraid that I might have missed him, and missed getting paid for the week.  He might give me shit for showing up late, might well dock my pay, but at least I’d have cash in my pocket.

Barry was sprawled out on the tile floor, his white seersucker pants down around his ankles, his black Stetson sitting underneath the rack of Pringles and candy bars.  Under the blue glare of the fluorescents his skin looked like it was made of rubber.  His eyes were wide open and staring, but he wasn’t moving at all.  He wasn’t even breathing.  His cock was still erect, like a weird little mushroom sprouting pinkly from his hairy crotch.  It may not have been all that tiny in reality, but it was dwarfed by his massive beer belly and his pendulous ball sac.

Tammy was leaning against the counter, smoking a cigarette.  There were three fat lines of powdery white cocaine on the glass next to the register.

“He had a heart attack.  Or a stroke or whatever.  What’s the difference anyway?”

We opened up the lockbox.  There was close to eight thousand dollars in there.  We split it down the middle, even-steven.  Tammy took the contents of his wallet, a couple hundred bucks, a fat zip-lock full of blow, and the keys to Barry’s Astro.  She kissed me on the cheek, wished me luck, and took off in the van, headed for the interstate.

I watched her taillights until they disappeared into the night.

The winds of change were blowing in from the east along with the rising sun.  My head finally felt clear.  I biked back to the chiropractor’s house, past eerie spectral images of scrub pine and cottonwood, wreathed in shadow.  I hurriedly packed up a little backpack with a change of clothes, extra socks and underwear, some letters and my notebooks.  Grabbed my toothbrush and some tampons.  Then I ditched the bike into a drainage ditch,   hiked all the way over to the Trailways station in town, and bought myself a bus ticket.

I got on the first bus that pulled in, and I didn’t get off again until I was Someplace Else.


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Artificial Alan

My brand-new Artificial Alan arrived on a Saturday morning, by way of an old UPS truck, converted over to hydrogen fuel cells, spray-painted Day-Glo orange, and double-parked in front of my building.

I’d tracked him in real time from the factory in Bangalore where he’d been assembled, to the integration center in Dublin; from there through Port Newark and then to a warehouse in Brooklyn where he had languished for two whole days.  It had taken a phone call –a phone call!– to jumpstart the process.  And now here he was, just as promised!

Leaning over the balcony rail, I watched the delivery guy load the large, square cardboard box off the back of his truck and onto a handcart.  Don’t. You. Fucking. Drop. It.

It seemed to take forever for him to get to my apartment.  I live sixteen floors up, in a building that was once an office tower. The owners had abdicated years ago, and the elevators have been out of service since long before I moved in.  That’s part of the price you pay for living rent free.  Another is the lack of heat and air conditioning.  Even so, it was taking unreasonably long.  After all this, it wasn’t getting delivered to the wrong apartment, was it?  My poor pussy cringed at the very thought.

Finally, the rap at the door.

The delivery guy was a rasta dude, well over six feet tall, in a blue jumpsuit with nothing on underneath.  He was really ripped, black muscles tensing and bulging.  He was covered in sweat from the climb, and smelled like a sexy mixture of ganja, male perspiration, and incense.  If I was one of those sassy size-zero girls in the tri-dee pornos I’ve gotten so addicted to, that is where I would have jumped him.

Instead, I just signed for the package, which was surprisingly heavy, and thanked him for bringing it all the way up.  I tipped the guy 500 Yucks, greasy, tissue-thin paper money, and he grinned and bobbed his head knowingly at me.

Holy over-packaging!  The cardboard box was full of peanuts. Excavation revealed a knife-resistant plastic blisterpack, which enclosed a styrofoam clamshell which finally contained my new shrink-wrapped Artificial Alan.

He was beautiful, of course.  I’d selected the inputs myself; an algorithmically extruded amalgamation of Sonny Chiba, Clint Eastwood, and Toshiro Mifune, with just a touch of a young Will Smith thrown in for spice.

It was a pity I’d only been able to afford the head.  But hey, I wait tables for a living.

The instructions said he had to charge for six hours before the first use.  Hrrmph, they didn’t mention that in the sales brochure.  Oh well.  I had to go to work anyway.  I sat him on my coffee table (read: executive desk truncated with a Sawzall), and plugged him into a wall socket; got dressed and threw my work clothes in a carry-along bag.  The Crazy Lady is only three blocks from my tower, but man, those stairs are a bitch!

I thought about him all day while I made coffee and delivered tiny fried chicken sandwiches to Asian men in identical prefab suits.

When I got home, the LED at the base of his neck was glowing solid green.  I thought about taking a shower first, but I’d had quite enough anticipation.  He was an artificial.  He wouldn’t mind a little sweat, would he?

I thumbed the ON switch, and there was a barely audible hum as he powered up.  I held my breath.  Please work.  Please, please don’t Bill Gates on me.  Finally, his eyes blinked open.  They were big, soft oak brown eyes, with specks of gold in the irises.  They looked around the room, the big empty room still strewn with packing material, and then settled on me.  He smiled, and I felt myself blush.

“Are you my End User?” he asked, eyebrows raised in a question mark, “You’re quite lovely.”

I blushed and beamed despite myself.  Getting all hot and bothered over compliments from a machine.  Ha!  “Oh, you’re just programmed to say that…”

“No, I’m serious,” he said, “We did all our beta integration on Artificial Angies.  They’re just a bunch of Barbie Doll clones.  No personality.  I find you much more attractive.  I’ll bet you’re a really good kisser…” he paused, as if embarrassed “…I hope that’s not too forward.”

“Not at all,” I said, tentatively stroking his cheek.  His flesh was warm and soft, with just a hint of stubble, as if he had shaved early that morning.  I lifted him up and brought him to my lips.

He was a really good kisser: passionate, eager, exploring me with just enough tongue and playful nips and tugs from his perfect teeth.  Holding him up to my face felt awkward and got uncomfortable fast, so I set him on the couch, and we made out like that for a while.  I ran my fingers through his hair, which was thin, fine and clean.

“I’d like to see your breasts” he said, “if you don’t mind.”  It was cute to see him blush.  They’d engineered it perfectly.

“I don’t mind one bit,” I said, peeling off my work shirt and bra.  I fed him my boobs, which he attacked with unabashed joy.  It must have looked ridiculous, from a bird’s-eye view; a disembodied head sucking my nipples pink and hard until they stuck out like gumdrops; but I didn’t care.  I for one was having a blast!

“Would you like to go down on me?” I asked, already knowing the answer, “Would you like to lick my pussy?”

“I’d love to!” he grinned up at me, “I’m equipped with the new mimetically-programmed advanced cunnilingus routine… I’m dying to try it out on you.”

I shucked off my black skirt and tossed my damp panties in the general direction of the laundry basket.  I’ve never put up anything to cover the windows, and I’m always wandering around the apartment in the nude.  I’ve often fantasized about my neighbors; other people in the high rise towers around mine, watching me through high power binoculars.  Sometimes I masturbate to that, putting myself on display for the empty window.  Well, if anyone was watching that Saturday afternoon, they were in for a show!

He licked and kissed and nibbled my upper thighs, assiduously avoiding my needy parts, tormenting me with a discipline no flesh-and-blood lover of mine had ever demonstrated.  It took all the discipline I had to not grab him by both ears and mash him into my cunt.

Finally, when I really couldn’t bear the teasing one more instant, when I really was about to mash his mouth into my sopping wet crotch, he at long last dove in.

His slithering tongue found its way through my slick folds.  He methodically explored my pussy, tracing that impossibly long and agile tongue all the way from the top of my slit, carefully avoiding my clitoris, down the length and breadth of my vulva and beyond, dancing merrily around and then on my asshole.  I squirmed and giggled as his tongue invaded my butt.  GOD, he was good!

Then he traced his way back up toward my clit.  Never actually on that sensitive flesh, his flickering tongue weaving in close, but never quite touching me, always just a Planck length away from those critical nerve endings.  My clit strained outward.  With two fingers, I squeezed and separated, offering myself to him.  He finally accepted my offer, the soft wet flat of his tongue pressing oh so gently against my hyper-excited button, moving in infinitesimally small circles; up and down, left and right; and I exploded, bucking and shaking, squeezing him hard between my thighs. He kept licking, tracing those exquisite little circles.  A human would have had to come up for air, but not Alan.  I gave myself over to it, the orgasm broke over my body like a rogue wave, throwing me tumbling through the surf, gasping for air.

His face was all sticky, and he was smiling, a huge goofy smile, when I lifted him up and placed him back on the coffee table.

“How was that?” he asked, “You’re not going to mail me back to Dublin and those awful Angies, are you?”

“That,” I said, still trying to catch my breath, my body still quivering through residual aftershocks, “that was fucking amazing!”

“What would you like to do now?” he asked, “I could start teaching you French.  Or I could read you some Shakespeare.  I have the complete sonnets on file.”

“Actually,” I said, stretching lazily and spreading my legs wide.  I traced a finger up and down my pussy.  Wet.  “Actually, I thought we’d try doing that one more time.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.” he said.  I was tweaking my nipples, rolling them between thumb and forefinger.  I hoped someone was watching through binoculars.  This was too good.

“You know,” Alan went on, “If you got me the Arms and Torso Accessory Kit, I could give you a nice back rub… or a sound spanking.”

Actually, I’m saving up for a Plug-in Penis Pack.  It’s supposed to plug into the abdomen, but it can be used separately too, with a wireless connection.  You get to specify the exact length and girth you want, and you can choose from 52 different anatomical archetypes, erect and flaccid, with a 5% randomizer built in just to keep it spicy.  When you’re ready to feel your Artificial Alan come, the user-actuated pseudo-orgasm routine features a hypoallergenic butterscotch-flavored semen analog.  And… it vibrates.


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