6 comments/ 26617 views/ 4 favorites The Real Real Doll Ch. 01 By: twogat123 She'd worked for the company for eight years. From product concept, prototype design, packaging to marketing to sales, she'd been there. She wanted more. Was tired of the day to day mechanics of work. Everything was in place. The business practically ran itself. And how hard could it be? Wait for the order that matched, take a leave of absence, and live a different life. One based solely on gratification. When she tired of the lifestyle, she could easily revoke herself back to RDC, back to life. ********** Relationships are work. When my girlfriend left me, she said I was a cold, self centered, workaholic only interested in cars and fucking; with no interest in building a relationship. Yeah well, so what. It's not easy though. It gets lonely. Who has time to go out and find someone, invest emotions, create intimacy, with no guarantee of long term stability? Not just stability, long term happiness. It's a crap shoot. Why can't I find the perfect woman? Beautiful, intelligent, available when I want her; happy living life when I'm busy. The ad in GQ seemed too good to be true. "Are you too busy for relationships? Are you an executive looking for the perfect woman? Are you ready to be fulfilled? Discretion and privacy implicit. Contact RDC and place your order." A week later I dialed the number. A pleasant vocal recording greeted me. Press 1 for more information. If you've ever dreamed of creating your ideal woman, then you have come to the right place Had I even thought about what my ideal woman entailed? Good grief! Deep down, I knew though. Athletic, tall, long auburn hair, green eyes, c cup, full lips. How could a doll ever be as good as the real deal though? The feel of soft skin, the intoxicating smell of an engorged pussy, puckered nipples. Not only the physical and sexual, but what about conversation? The perfect woman wasn't just symmetrical parts to me. I wanted a challenge. I don't care what my ex-girlfriend said. On some level, I did crave intimacy. I didn't want a Stepford wife. This robot with a luscious exterior was not going to come close to being my perfect woman. Still, it couldn't hurt to read the brochure and frequently asked questions. Programming designed specifically for your personality. Completion of requisite profile questionnaire; analysis of indicators; programming tailored to your needs. Needs you might not realize you have. Interesting. More than a blow up doll; less than a girlfriend. Perfect. Why do I feel like I'm adopting a child with all these questions? *You are inclined to rely more on improvisation than on careful planning *You tend to sympathize with other people *You often spend time thinking of how things could be improved ********** Hmm, interesting. Myers Briggs INTP personality type. Introverted. Intuitive. Thinking. Perceiving. Analytical, detached, mostly oblivious to the outside world. Ok, what's his physical request? Auburn hair, green eyes, athletic, c cup, full lips. We're getting close. What's he like? Flip through the file to Mr. X's photo and description. 6'4", 185#, brown hair, brown eyes, graduated from one of the top business schools in the nation - summa cum laude, IQ - 144 (impressive), runs a very profitable exotic hybrid car manufacturing business; fit - plays racquet ball, swims an hour a day, runs marathons. I think we've found a winner! The photo of Mr. X is compelling. Wry smile, piercing eyes staring directly into the lens; confident, powerful. What the hell is wrong with this guy? Really though. Why is he ordering a Real Doll? Why doesn't he have the Real thing? ********** Mr. Williams, you have a phone call on line 3. It's a Ms. Stockholm, regarding a private matter. Thank you Beth. "This is Mr. Williams, may I help you?" "Hello, I'm Ms. Stockholm from RDM. I wanted to let you know that we have integrated your personality profile with your requested physical and emotional characteristics and sexual preferences and have created your Real Doll. A license has been issued in your name as the owner of doll #72512w37j. Payment has processed and we are ready to ship. We request that you be home when the shipment arrives. Will you be available Saturday at 10 am?" "Yes, of course." Your RD comes with an in-depth manual should you have questions. There are also a few "cheats" programmed for your pleasure should you choose to explore outside her general scope of use. "We hope you enjoy your new playmate. Her name is Veronica. She is foremost a sexual partner for you. However, she is also fluent in French, Spanish and German, cogent in all stages of the Burmese martial art Bando Thaing, skilled in Fencing, an intuitive chef, and she is a piano virtuoso." Sex toy, guard dog, personal Saint-Saens all rolled into a beautiful, 36-23-36 package. Brilliant. "There are societal rules, as you are aware of, which implicitly restrict use of your RD outside of your home compound. If your RD needs to be moved to a new location, she must be shipped in the original packaging. She may not travel with you as a human companion would. Violation of these terms will result in her return to RDC where she will be reprogrammed and the immediate revocation of your owner's license without further notice." "Remember, she is there to serve your every need. Enjoy." The Real Real Doll Ch. 02 Saturday. Christ, that's two days away! Invasive thoughts of sex and responsibility creeping in. Anticipation of sinking my cock inside every orifice of her willing body. But too, responsibility as an owner? She's going to be more than a blow up doll; less than a girlfriend. Thank God I can sink back into my job and not think about the dynamics of my situation for awhile. ********** The tinkling of Chopin's Nocturne in E flat, Opus 9, #2 streams through the speakers as I posture anxiously in the half darkness of my bedroom, alone with my thoughts. The scotch on the rocks I poured a half hour ago sits untouched on the bedside table. A dark pool of condensation forming a moat around the bottom of the glass. Peering into my muddled brain is not something I like to do. In order to understand my hesitance, I must try. What is it about the box that is sitting before me am I so concerned about? It is not Pandora's box after all. It is my box. Maybe I am a miscreant for choosing a robotic mate over flesh and blood? ********** When the doorbell chimed at 10:12 am that morning, I could feel the adrenaline surge through my veins. A swarthy-looking man in stained over-alls stood on the stoop; the fat brown stub of a cigar poking out of the corner of his grimacing mouth. Behind him, perched in the driveway, was a box that looked alarmingly like a coffin. Without any introduction, the guy barked "Where do you want it?". "Bring her, I mean, umm, I mean it, into the living room. No wait, my bedroom." Before turning on his heel, he gave me the once over; eyes squinting. He smoothly wheeled the box into the living room and looked at me impatiently to direct him to the chosen room. After he eased the box onto the floor next to my bed, he guided the empty dolly out the door and headed towards the living room. I hailed him to wait as I dug my wallet out to retrieve his tip. He grabbed the bill and turned to leave. Mind racing, I blurted the first thing that came into my head "Wait, what do I do now?". An incredulous smile crossed his face as he finally removed the cigar from his lip. "Open the box. Kiss her on the lips. She's programmed to recognize you. She'll switch on. Easy." "Thanks," I muttered. I already knew that. I'd read the "Getting Started" section on RDC's website. I was nervous about...something, and didn't want him to leave just yet. He turned to go, and then abruptly turned back and said "Hey! You seem like a nice guy. Good tip and all. I'll give you some free advice. You ready? (I nodded.) Don't get involved. She's gonna look real and sound real, but she isn't. If you start treating her like a real person you're head's gonna get all screwed-up and the fun will be over. OK? I do pick-ups too and sometimes it ain't pretty." He paused remembering something troubling. After a couple of seconds he returned to the now, looked at me and said, "Remember she's not real." Then he left. ********** That was three hours ago. I'd been pacing, fidgety. Perspiration dripped down my sides even though the room was a comfortable 68 degrees. I decided a shower was in order; taking as much time as I possibly could to dress. I'd poured the scotch to help settle my nerves, but my mind wandered away from it almost immediately. The box was very still. Too still for a person - more like an appliance. But I guess it was, really. Just a machine. A toy. That cigar-puffer was right. Keeping reality straight wasn't easy and I was screwing it up already! Of course the box was quiet! It was a THING. I had a buddy who always said, "Treat'em mean and keep 'em keen." I had always disagreed with him, but maybe in this case he was right - more for the sake of my mental health than anything else. Treating her badly would keep me from considering her (I mean "it"...damnit!) a suitable recipient for my feelings. ********** "OK, I can do this." My assertion disappearing into the empty room. I unfastened the lock with a wildly beating heart. Feeling the lip of the box, I pulled the lid up slightly, releasing the seal. I hesitated for a moment, and then moved the lid fully to the side. The Real Real Doll Ch. 03 Thankfully, the damn box I'd been stuffed into is climate controlled, lest Mr. Williams have a real DEAD doll on his hands. What is taking so long?? Delivery was made hours ago. Several hours are a long time to think about what I've released into motion. It's a long time to be lying naked in a box, questioning my sanity and too fucking long since I moved my legs. Finally, the lid started to open. ********** I had been holding my breath as the lid slide away, revealing the form below. Exhaling now, my eyes focused on the creature before me. Remember...she's not real. She's not real. She was exquisite...from her toes, long legs, trimmed bush, flat belly, rounded hips, luscious globes, reddish brown nipples, to her willowy neck, elongated arms with graceful looking fingers, porcelain skin, and a sprinkling of tiny freckles. She looked as if asleep. Her lids closed; inch long feathery lashes rested on her cheeks. Her face oval with a pert nose and full mouth. Her hair a corona of chestnut fire framing her beautiful features. A medieval princess. With trembling fingers, I touched the tip of her toe, expecting her to jump or move somehow. I glided my way down the top of her foot to her sleek calf. Her skin was warm. Her skin was buttery soft. I couldn't resist. I touched my nose to her thigh, smelling her scent. She did have a scent and it didn't smell of oil and metal shavings. She smelled earthy, of lavender and patchouli and something darker...something distinctly female. My fingers stroked over her thighs, past her mysterious v, to her belly. I mapped her curves with each caress. Her breasts were delightful. Delicious, in fact. My tongue hovered above her left areola, testing the air. I licked around the outer ring, aware of how perverse I must look. The nipple hardened. Hmm, I hadn't turned her on yet, yet she was turned on. Maybe I wouldn't activate her at all. As with Sleeping Beauty, it would take a kiss from me to awaken her. Maybe I would let her stay as she was in her box? I couldn't possibly do that. I couldn't possibly pay the astronomical price for a real companion, and then not utilize all her programming. I may be daft in relationships, but my business acumen would surely intercede with this decision. Again, I looked into her face. Her lips full and tempting, even in this inanimate state. My thumb traced over her bottom lip; soft and supple. My face hovered only inches above hers. I wanted to memorize every facet of her. Once she awoke, the illusion of perfection would most likely disappear. Such was the case with most of the women in my life previously. Ulterior motives surfacing after the initial "honeymoon" phase. Remember...she isn't real. She isn't real. I grabbed the watery glass off the end table and slugged back the diluted Scotch and slammed it on the table. Swiftly, I dove my hand into her hair, pulled her head up and kissed her. It was as if life breathed into her as our lips collided. Her eyes opened, her lips parted, like electricity was coursing through her. I released her hair and looked into her eyes. "Mr. Williams, I presume?" "Hello, Victoria" "How may I serve you sir?" The chemical synapses in my brain fired with brilliant speed. Indeed, how may you serve me? "Please get out of the box so that I may examine you more closely." She held out her hand for me to help her sit up. She never took her vibrant green eyes off of me. Letting her legs dangle over the side, she nimbly pounced to the floor. The detail of her body was amazing - sculpted form, flowing hair, heart-shaped ass. Her movements as well - fluid, more human than human. ************* Lying in the box, I had thought he would fuck me even before turning me on. I was curious how that would go. I would have to appear lifeless and be perfectly immobile. A dead fuck. He must have had a girlfriend or two in the past who he'd already had that particular type of sexual encounter with, because he woke me up. It was comical how he was looking at me now. Like he truly wanted to strap on a pith helmet, grab a compass and flashlight and explore every inch of me. This was going to be brilliant! Keeping up the charade of being silicone was obviously going to be difficult. It helped that he had no experience with real dolls to know that some of my "programming" was in fact, aftermarket. The anticipation of this moment, his boyish enthusiasm, and his earlier skin stroking/nipple teasing had me aroused. He was taking his time exploring my bells and whistles. His fingers danced over my naked body, plowed through my hair, stroked the curve of my neck, and hefted each breast as if testing for ripeness. ********** He stood back from me finally, eyes never leaving my body. "Undress me," he ordered. "Very well, sir" He was wearing a shirt and tie, slacks and a very expensive pair of Italian shoes. I stepped closer to him and reached for his tie. My eyes watching his. I very carefully loosed the knot. His hands fidgeted at his side, like he was unsure what to do with them. I continued with the tie until it was free, then laid it on the bed. I moved behind him then. He looked at me questioningly. I embraced his back as my fingers slipped around his chest and to the collar of his shirt; my nipples poked against him invitingly. Very slowly, I unbuttoned the top button. I deliberately took my time with each button until his shirt was finally open. Grasping the collar, I pulled his shirt down his back and exposed his shoulders without completely removing it. I then moved in front of him again. After I unbuckled his belt, unfastened the closure and slide the zipper down, his slacks fell to his knees and bunched up. He was wearing grey silk boxers. Obvious wetness stained the front. I let my nails feather tickle his abs as I reached for the waist band of his underwear. He was looking intently at my mouth, forming an O with his own without realizing he was mimicking what he craved. I inched the silk down, until just the head of his cock emerged. It was beautiful. An angry purplish-red with clear fluid leaking from its eye. He trembled at the sudden exposure of air. I gradually unveiled the rest of his member, as I slipped the material the down his thighs to meet up with his slacks. Since he was undressed, though technically not completely, I got on my knees in a submissive pose. My mouth directly in front of his twitching dick. I looked up at him and smiled. His breath quickened. "Suck me." "As you wish." Our eyes locked. I had anticipated this moment for hours, days, weeks actually, and it was finally here. My mouth salivated as my lips hovered over the tip of his shaft. I smiled at the idol before me and reveled in the knowledge that this beautiful instrument of pleasure would soon be splitting each of my entrances in turn. I ached to have him. The evidence of my arousal glistened on my thighs. My lips parted to nestle the head of his cock inside my mouth. He gasped and instinctively tried to slide himself further into my recess. I wanted this to last. I wanted to take him to the brink and back as many times as humanly possible before he released his load. With one hand, I held his body away so that I could dictate the level of penetration. The other hand I slide between his thighs and cradled his balls. My tongue found the crown and swirled wetly around it. I eased more of the shaft in my mouth, lubricating then pulling back to the head. He was groaning as he tried to thrust further than I was ready to allow. His hand managed to find my neck and he curled his fingers into my hair, tugging gently. His other hand wandered down my chest and found my dangling orb. He distractedly squeezed and released my nipple. I continued to suck and swirl the head, agonizingly slowly. He panted as I tugged at his delicate sac. "Let me fuck your mouth!" he said through clenched teeth. Hmm, already the petulant child. Instead of holding him back, I pulled him towards me. I relaxed my jaw as his entire length slide into my mouth and nudged my throat. Clutching him there, I moaned around his shaft, letting the vibrations tantalize him further. His body trembled and tensed as though he were going to spurt. I stopped moving until he relaxed a bit. My lips suctioned tightly as I pulled back to the tip and then swallowed him again. As my pace quickened, so did his frantic thrusts. My plan to ebb and flow his cock all evening seemed to be vanishing. His urgency was more than I had anticipated. I began mouth fucking him in earnest; my lips firmly suctioning his shaft as his frenzied cock plunged headlong towards flash point. I briefly wondered if he planned on cumming in my mouth or on my face or in my hair. I wanted to taste his cum. My answer arrived quickly. His hips bucked wildly and his grip on my hair tightened as he gasped and announced he was about to cum. Another long stroke, and he deluged the back of my throat as he released what seemed to be months of pent up desire. I swallowed each stream until he trembled and was finally spent. ********** I hadn't planned on cumming so fucking quickly. The anxiety of her arrival and intensity of her presence and availability spurred me to a galloping climax. Jesus, I'm like a teenager. For someone known for his control and poise, I certainly have turned into a quivering mass of confusion. Get it together man. You bought her so that you could bypass human interaction, remember? You don't have to worry about her needs, thoughts, feelings, desires, criticisms, or cynicisms. You don't have to worry about embarrassing yourself. She's not real, remember? The Real Real Doll Ch. 04 An awkward silence filled the room after he filled my mouth with his cum. A momentary look of confusion passed over his features, and then something else; a look of resignation perhaps. He then hiked up his slacks and strode to the en suite bathroom, shutting the door with a quiet thud. I had expected some sort of clumsy exchange initially, but what just transpired speaks of a man not comfortable in his own skin. A man with undefined boundaries is a man headed for rocky shoals. I decide to sit and wait for him to reappear. What else can I do? ********** Safely shut inside the bathroom, the racing thoughts continue. What will I do with her now? Will she sleep in my bed? No, I won't be able to sleep with this strange being. Ok, she sleeps, er um; she'll be stored in the spare bedroom. Coming out of the bathroom, I am greeted with the image of her sitting on my duvet; legs crossed, smirky smile. I completely forget what I had intended to do as she asks me if I am hungry. Nervous and jittery all morning; huge cum; yes, I am hungry. She reaches inside her box and opens a compartment that contains what looks like a few items of clothing. Out comes a frilly black apron with white lace around the edge. She ties it on, and looks at me. "Is this to your liking sir? Your preference card indicated you enjoy the French maid look." Staring at her supple naked form hidden only by a sexy apron, I can't remember what the hell was on my preference card. It would be easy to get lost in her thighs for the remainder of the day. "Will you show me the kitchen please?" she says, which pulls me out of my stupor. "Of course, follow me." As we head through the doorway and down the hall, I get the distinct impression she is watching me. And not as any other home appliance would. There is something about her that is eerily authentic. Intuitive artificial intelligence comes standard with Real Dolls, but there is something more there. We arrive in the kitchen, and she immediately padded past me to the refrigerator and opened the door. Her full ass is exposed and the apron strings tied around her waist form a white bow across her lower back. Her ass looks like a succulent present waiting to be unwrapped. My dick twitches at the thought of sinking into her gift. Her eyes squint as she peers inside the cool interior. "Not much in there, I know. I usually just eat out." "Do you own a freezer Mr. Williams?" I point to her right and down. The freezer is hidden amongst the lower cabinets. I had almost forgotten I had a freezer...or a name, after staring at her voluptuous body. She quickly yanks the handle and the freezer compartment slides out. She bends down to rummage inside the space a few moments as I continue to stare at her ass waggling in my direction. Pulling out a packet covered in white butcher paper, she seems triumphant as she proceeds to thaw its contents. A juicy steak. Ah yes. My growling stomach highly approves of her find. She gets the steak marinating and begins to scour the cabinets for something else. Sensing me staring at her, she turns and says: "Sir, I will call you when dinner is ready." I am obviously enjoying watching her move around the kitchen too much to leave at this point. My dick is semi-hard and hyper aware of her every maneuver. "I will stay. I cleared my work schedule so that we can spend some time getting accustomed to each another." She really is an accomplished chef. Watching her masterfully carve the root vegetables she found in a bin almost made me forget about her firm round ass...almost. As the steak hits the pan, the aroma of garlic and olive oil permeates the kitchen and my olfactory receptors. I'm not sure whether I want to eat first or fuck her first. My belly is moaning for sustenance as my cock is aching to be sheathed. Would it be possible to do both at the same time? She continues preparing the rest of my dinner, oblivious to my inner turmoil. Just as she plates my steak and accompaniments, my mobile phone rings. Fucking hell! I made it clear I did not want to be disturbed this weekend unless it was an emergency. The number that flashes across the screen is obviously a work extension. "Mr. Williams? This is Fiona Andreas. I'm sorry to bother you at home, but there's a problem with the new design. If we don't correct it as soon as possible, there will be a delay in production. Can you come into the office?" Son of a bitch! "Of course Fiona, I will be there momentarily." "Look Victoria, something has come up at the office. I need to go in to work and I'm not sure how long I'll be gone. Can you put the food in a container to go for me? Thanks. When you're done cleaning up, you may go to the spare room and shut down until further notice." ********** Son of a bitch! Accustomed to each another?? When I'm done cleaning up?? Jesus, this was a really bad idea. Actually, I need to own that I made a poor choice for an owner. No matter how many personality tests or background checks, it's impossible to predict compatibility. He flew out the door as if the building were on fire; food firmly in hand. The delectable smells of steak and potatoes still floated in the air. His absence does give me time to pee, freshen up, eat and relax a bit I suppose. ********** Ten minutes later I'm at the office. Only a few cars are parked in the lot; those probably belonging to security and maintenance since it's the weekend. I head up to my office. The door is slightly ajar. I push it open to see my design engineer, Fiona Andreas, sitting on my desk, legs crossed, very short, tight black skirt, and fishnet stockings with the garter on the upper thigh showing; chocolate brown silk blouse, opened past her mound of cleavage. Her black hair, which is usually in a severe bun on the top of her head, is cascading down her back and shoulders. Her glasses are perched on the tip of her nose as she smiles at me provocatively. As she sees me, she uncrosses her legs and spreads them so that I can almost detect a shadow of her bush. What the fuck is this? My mind is about to flake out. I am goddamn hungry, horny, distracted...and now this! "Uh, Fiona? Is there an emergency?" "Why yes there is Mr. Williams," she says as she draws a black riding crop out from behind her back, "I need to be fucked. "Come. Stand right here." She points to a spot in-between her legs. My mouth is gaping like a fish out of water. Had I ever considered this type of scenario coming from Ms. Andreas? Not even remotely. As per usual, the timing could not be any worse. "Ah, Fiona, I'm flattered and, um well, any other time I would, ah really enjoy what you are offering. You see, I've got a big project going on at home that I am in the middle of and this just isn't a great time for um, whatever this is." The mischief in her eyes tells me my words have fallen on deaf ears. Why the hell didn't she do this month's ago? I may not have even considered ordering a...doll. Suddenly I have this strange emotion trying to surface. What the hell could it be? Surely not? Thoughts of Victoria at home alone, wearing only a lacy apron fill me with something akin to, well...guilt, I suppose. How can that be? She's not even real for Christ's sake! Ignoring my feeble attempt at a dismissal, she very seductively eases her ass off of the desk and slowly heads in my direction. Her eyes are locked with mine as her hand continues to cradle the riding crop. Her journey ends deep inside my personal space, three inches from my face. I can feel her warm breath on my neck. "Since you disobeyed my request, Mr. Williams, I feel it only right to let you know your punishment will be much more severe." "Unbutton my blouse...slowly." This is completely insane! How can this be happening? I go from absolutely no action for months, to the best blow job I've ever had, AND some sort of dominatrix ordering me to strip her down in my office, all in one day? Of course one is real and the other is just a machine. Having placed Victoria back into her rightful pigeon hole of animate inanimate objectification, I decide to embrace fully what has presented itself at this time and place. My fingers dance across the buttons momentarily before my hand slips directly down the front of her blouse. Buttons fly through the air and land on the short-nap carpeting as my hand grasps a mound of flesh hidden by the silk. In her surprise, she forgot that she'd given me a direct order and leaned her body into my palm. Her head fell back and she moaned as my other hand explored her taut little body. Soft, velvety skin. Beautiful swell to her hips. Luscious breasts with long nipples poking at the fabric of her bra...just begging to be released and tongued. I walk her backwards toward the desk she'd only recently vacated. My cock, pointing her in the right direction, seemed to have a mind of its own; bursting at the zipper and demanding to be freed. Once at the desk, I remove the riding crop from her fingers and turn her around. Her ass is peeking out from beneath her impossibly short skirt. I shove her skirt higher up, so that it floats around her waist. Her tiny little thong is exposed, nestled snugly between her round cheeks. "I believe you are the one that's been naughty Ms. Andreas. Lying in wait for your innocent victim. Tsk, tsk. What shall be YOUR punishment...hmm?" Without waiting for a response, I tap the leather tip of the riding crop against the delicate skin of her ass. She flinches and moans at the new sensation. After a few more swats, her ass is flushed red. I massage my fingers over the welts. She coos at my touch. "Slip your shirt off and turn around Ms. Andreas." She does as she is told, turning around to meet my gaze. I unfasten my slacks and lower the zipper as she watches with fascination. My dick emerges with its tip glistening. She moves to take me into her mouth, but I stop her short. I want something else at the moment. "No. Stroke me with the silk." A glimmer of surprise and excitement crosses her face. She wraps the fabric around my cock and slowly twists her hands around it. The cool silk combined with her firm touch feels like heaven. As she strokes, I run my hands through her hair; pull it away from her throat. I bare my teeth into the inviting curve of her neck and bite down so very delicately. A moan reverberates inside her chest and trickles out of her mouth as I continue to nibble on her soft flesh. The chocolate silk is getting wetter and wetter as pre-cum spills from the tip of my swollen cock. She uses one hand to continue to stroke me as she reaches down and slides the sleeve of her shirt across my balls. Oh my god, this feels insanely good. I could cum from this. The thought of my pearly cum splashing all over her coffee-colored blouse like a Jackson Pollack mocha latte is an enticing image; but she might not find it quite as beautifully illustrated as I. After all, I had barely touched her. Could I be that selfish twice in one day? As much as I didn't want her to stop, I eased the silken goodness from her hand and tossed it on the floor. I briefly wondered if she'd brought a change of clothing, or whether she would be wearing my sticky adoration on her trip home. Her legs quivered as I run my fingertips along her inner thighs. The dainty thong she is wearing forms a triangle over her shaved quim. I moved the fabric aside and rubbed my thumb along her crevice. She is sopping wet to the touch. My digit dabbled over her clit a moment and then back down the length of her opening. Her juices are dribbling down her slit. She trembles as my thumb nears her rosebud. The thought of entering her tight asshole sends a renewed shiver of lust to my loins. I wonder if she would be receptive to a little exploratory well-drilling? I rub my thumb across her hole again, gauging any type of reaction. She thrusts her pelvis forward, moaning as my thumb gets pressed a bit harder against her backdoor. I stop exploring long enough to grab the strings of her panties and ease them down her thighs. She raised her ass enough to let them pass under her cheeks and down her silken legs. As they drop to the floor, I head back to her buffet. The picture before me is devastatingly arousing. Disheveled hair, lusty eyes; mouth and pussy agape. Kneeling between her legs, I drink in her scent. Her arousal is evident, not only visually but scent-uously. I engulf her entire mound in my mouth and suck furiously. She squeals and grabs my hair with both hands. She grinds her pussy against my face as she pulls my head deeper into her cunt. I lap at her clit and run my thumb back and forth against her asshole. She starts to pant as my thumb sinks inside a tiny bit. I withdraw and then return, inching further with each return. She is literally humping my face as I slide half my thumb into her bottom. Her rhythmic gyrations get more frenzied as her quivering slit erupts in my mouth. She grinds her juicy pussy against my face as her whole body reverberates with her orgasm. Finally the pent up tension leaves her body and she relaxes back onto my desk. I am utterly erect. Not just my dick. My skin is on fire. The hairs on my arms and legs are on end and my scalp is crawling. Every ounce of my entire being wants to fuck her, and fuck her hard. With her still on her back, legs dangling from the desk, I position my aching member at her gasping hole. The tip of my dick just barely slips inside her dark interior. I want to pummel her with force, but I don't. She still seems to be recovering from her explosive cum. I press further inside, holding back the urge to cum the minute I thrust fully inside her. Suddenly, she becomes alert enough to look a little frantic. "No, wait, stop!" "What? What's wrong?" I say with more than a little agitation. "Do you have a condom?" "No, why?" "I just assumed you'd have a condom in your wallet. I'm not on the pill, and I CANNOT fuck you without one. I just can't go through that again!" I momentarily consider risking becoming known as a complete fuck wad by repositioning myself at her backdoor, but then think better of it. Unprotected sex is unprotected sex. Oh my fucking god! If there ever was an instant dick-shrinking moment, what just transpired was that moment. I am still poised at her entrance, though my cock has softened considerably. Processing what she just said, I am dumbfounded...."can't go through that again"? I back away from her wishing I could snap my fingers and make this awkward situation go away. She looks up at me with pleading eyes and I am fairly certain I won't get out of this without some tears. Please, no tears. As if reading my mind, her eyes turn on like a faucet, and then her words. She sobs as she reveals intimate details regarding her last failed relationship, as if I am suddenly her therapist. With every fiber of my being I do not want to be having this conversation. A sudden realization hits me like a lead balloon. The reason I haven't had a relationship in years... The reason I've been, for all intensive purposes, a monk for almost ever (well, not counting that happy ending massage I got while on a business trip to the Philippines)... The reason I placed an order for a made to spec, big-breasted, long-legged, artificially intelligent fuck toy/merry maid is that I am attracted to and seem to somehow attract, like a moth to a flame: damaged women. Women who are desperate. Women who's Daddies never paid them enough attention. Women who don't love themselves enough. There is nothing wrong with that type of woman. There are some men who are looking for a princess to rescue and fix all her problems. I'm just not that type of man. At least I had the good sense to avoid this sort of uncomfortable interaction for the last few years, knowing how fragile my Ego truly is. Catching Fiona mid-sob, I pluck a tissue from the box on the desk, hand it to her and apologize. For what? Well, I suppose for not having a condom. "I'm sorry." I help her sit up and then attend to buttoning myself back up. "This was incredibly exciting Fiona, but I really must go. A time-sensitive shipment arrived earlier today that I need to deal with. I'm sorry to have to rush off." She looked resigned and a little embarrassed as she pulled the two sides of her blouse closed. No buttons remained to shutter her bra from view. "Sure. No problem, Mr. Williams. Excuse me while I head to the ladies room." She stood on still trembling legs and tugged the hem of her skirt down with both hands. Her blouse billowed open again in the process. She gathered the two sides together and left the room.