This story—concerning a sex-bot, and what happens when virtual reality goes wrong—was inspired by baubleheadz’s ‘Copy’. The usual disclaimers apply: no machinery harmed; no under aged players; and depending on your regulatory jurisdiction, certain acts should be taken to be simulated.
Droids R Us
By Cordelia Speedicut
Chapter 1
It all started three months back, when Daddy brought home our new housekeeper-android. When I asked him why, he said lots of people have them. I pointed out that that wasn’t an answer, but he just laughed and said he’d got it because, this way, he didn’t need to re-marry yet. He made it a joke, like the only thing a wife was for was to work; but what he was really saying was he knew it would likely upset me if he married again now—which was true enough. But I could cook and clean, and so could he. And even if we didn’t have the time (which we did), he could have hired a small village or two for what he must have paid for the thing.
I should have caught on sooner. The droid—Lacy, he called it—had sizable boobs, and looked just a little like Momma. In any event, two weeks after the thing arrived, I happened to get the late-night munchies, and went on a food quest from my bedroom in the basement up to the kitchen. From there I could hear the real purpose for ‘Lacy’ being played out on the floor above me. Like, right on the floor.
The thing was a sex-bot.
The strange thing was not that the idea turned me on (which it did); it was that I suddenly realized I was jealous. That could have been me he was fucking. Which confused and surprised the hell out of me—I’d never thought of Daddy that way before. At least, not so as I’d have admitted it to myself.
Anyway, I told my best friend Adele about it. Not the part about how I was suddenly lusting after my own father—just the news that his housekeeper-droid was a sex doll. A very sophisticated sex doll.
Adele laughed at me. She’d met ‘Lacy’ already -the thing made an appearance each afternoon to tidy the place up and make our dinner, although it rarely interacted with me or with Daddy. All it did was answer ‘yes’, ‘no’ or ‘I don’t understand’ to direct questions, or else blandly list off dinner choices. Then it did the dishes and went off to plug itself in—it only got four hours on a charge. And after that, apparently, it woke up again and serviced Daddy.
“Of course she’s a sex-bot! Couldn’t you tell just by looking at her?”
“And you could? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you what? About the birds and the bees? Listen, Tracie girl, my Uncle Max has one of those things.” Max was Adele’s ‘black sheep’ uncle—the one who’d told her the facts of life, and occasionally let her have a bottle of wine. (So far as I knew, though, he had never hit on her.) “I just happened to drop in to borrow a vid when she was ‘on’. He was kinda embarrassed, but he introduced me—he called her Greta. I knew something was up—for one thing, not many girls wear cowboy costumes complete with boots, spurs and a lasso.”
Adele paused long enough for me to picture that image, then continued, “So I make some small talk with Greta, while Max goes to make tea—but I’m thinking, ‘could her shirt be any tighter?’ Anyhow, when Max comes back, he says, ‘What do you think? Did I get my money’s worth?’
“So I got mad at him and said, ‘Jeez, Max, the poor girl’s sitting right here—show a little class, will ya?’ ‘Cause, you know, he’d hired ‘girlfriends’ before, and they’d been really nice. And then he told me what she was. He wasn’t about to let me see her actually ‘on the job’, but he lent me her manual. I read it, cover to cover. Anyway—guess what? Your Dad probably doesn’t even know this, ‘cause this isn’t a feature guys are interested in, but in the charge-base is a headset ring.”
“Which is what?”
“It’s a virtual reality receiver, baby girl—these sex-droids automatically record every sex session they have, and they can play them back on demand. I’ve managed to sample Max’s moves with his droid, a few times, when he was out of the house. It was absolutely just like the real thing. Better than life, ‘cause you can’t get knocked up!”
Needless to say, as soon Daddy had gone to work the next morning, I went upstairs to snoop. He kept Lacy’s charger base in a big walk-in closet off his bedroom (which should have been another clue). It was the first time I’d seen the droid in standby, like that. It was kind of creepy. The thing sat like a queen on a throne, except it was stark naked and the throne was a metal chair, the bottom of which was solid. Whatever links it had to its base were hidden under its bum. It certainly looked like the real thing—it was so human that I half expected it to open its eyes and catch me poking around.
It—she—was about my size. Which is to say, fairly little. And I had to admit she was beautiful. Adele was right—what with the big bazooms, the tiny waist, and the padded bottom, she was clearly made for sex.
I quickly managed to find the headset, in a drawer on the side of the base station. It was wireless, but I didn’t know it’s range. Or much else, owing to her manual didn’t seem to be around anywhere. So I took the thing downstairs to my bedroom to experiment.
As it turned out, it was dead easy. I put it on, and after a slight hesitation, it brought up a menu that floated in my vision. I could lift my arm and actually point at the selections, which were indexed by date. There were nearly fifty entries, already! Which annoyed me, mostly because I’d been oblivious to it. No wonder Daddy had had been looking tired lately.
But now I could find out what they’d been up to. The night they’d been banging on the floorboards seemed like a good place to start. I pointed to the date in question, and brought up a file with a running time of twenty-five minutes. Another poke at the ‘yes’ box, and suddenly I was looking at my father’s bedroom. Yippee—it worked! The Lacy-bot turned her head to look around, and I could not only see what she’d seen, but feel my head turn to see it—and smell the scent of sandalwood soap from Daddy’s bathroom.
All of which was more than a little disorienting, because I could also feel myself sitting on my bed. I actually had to wave my real arm to catch myself from falling right over, and when I did another menu floated in front of me, labelled ‘intensity’. I flapped my arm until the level rose higher. The numbers quickly went from green to orange to red, and hit 100% before I knew it.
That was way better; now I was completely ‘inside’ Lacy, walking across the carpet—God, it felt so thick and soft under my bare feet! I could feel her lust, too. It was programmed in, of course, but I’d never felt so horny in my life.
When Daddy stepped out of the bathroom, I almost died! He was naked—and, now that Lacy was running her hands down her sides, I knew I was, too. Daddy gave me a hungry look, and Lacy glanced down to watch his cock twitch and grow. It was bigger than I’d imagined, and, as Lacy, I felt my pussy lubricate in anticipation. I knew for sure my own pussy was doing the same thing.
And then Daddy reached into his top drawer and pulled out a black choker collar; and fastened to a ring on the collar was a matching leash. Okay—didn’t see that coming. My Old Man had a kink I had no idea about ... no surprise there, seeing it had taken me a couple of weeks to figure out he was fucking the doll. Lacy was bending her head to let him put the collar on her neck, and I felt a rush of pleasure.
At this point I was beginning to get cold feet, and not just because things were getting twisted. The thing was, the whole experience was way beyond intense. In the past two minutes, I’d felt every sensation Lacy had, as though it were my own. Which was one thing to hear Adele tell about, and another to experience. I was just going along for the ride—after all, this was just a recording of what had happened two days ago. But when Lacy had turned her head, when she’d warmed to the sight of Daddy’s body, and when she’d longed for his touch on her skin ... it was like I had decided to move, and my tummy fluttering with anticipation.
Which meant that I also wanted to feel the touch of that collar. It was definitely time to hit the pause button, so I could catch my breath and get a chance to think about whether I really wanted to do this. Except ... it turned out that at the 100% intensity level, I couldn’t flap my real arm or otherwise bring back the menu.
I was trapped—obliged to go along for the ride for the next twenty-three minutes, or so. And if the Lacy-bot’s reactions were any indication so far, Daddy was gonna fuck my brains out.
“On your knees, now, girl, and get me ready for you.”
And so I did. I commenced by licking his gorgeous dick (thinking, ‘Goodness, Lacy has a long tongue’); and soon I was sucking him like a pro, which I guess Lacy was designed to be. I methodically worked his cock right down my throat ... at which point I realized I couldn’t breath. I had a sudden rush of panic, but Lacy carried on with no problems, so I managed to calm down. After all, the real me was safe in my bedroom. And as for Lacy—she was a machine. Probably, she only sucked air in and out so as to look real, and to work her vocal cords. Right now, she had something more important to suck on.
Or to massage, actually. I could feel my throat rhythmically squeezing the tip of Daddy’s cock, somewhere way down at the back. I had a suspicion that not many girls, pro or no, could do this.
My inner milking routine quickly got Daddy rock hard, and after a bit, he told me to get on my feet. When I did, he took hold of my hips, lifted me in the air and set me astride his cock, as quick as it takes to tell. No wonder Lacy was on the small side—it must have made the daily gymnastics easier. Anyway, I put my arms behind Daddy’s neck and held on for dear life, while he started to push my hips fore and aft—so as to saw my pussy lips along the top of his dick.
My pussy (the Lacy version of which was bald, and featured plump fleshy folds) was starting to pulsate, like it was trying to catch hold of Daddy’s cock. When he felt its drooling, nibbly little kisses, he lifted me off and said, “You can’t come yet. I’ll tell you when.” And then he adjusted me so that the end of his knob sat against my opening. I could feel my lips stretching wide to slowly envelope it. He didn’t push it in, like I expected; he just let gravity settle me down onto his shaft. The flood of my juices around it helped things along, some, but I (that is to say, Lacy, of course) couldn’t wait—it felt so damn good. So I tried to cheat by bouncing, but he told me that that wasn’t allowed, either. All I could do was try to relax my pussy, to speed my frustratingly slow downward drift.
When I finally hit bottom, Daddy grinned at me, and then he began to bounce me on his cock—lifting me up and down with his hands on my bum to deliver long steady strokes. It went on and on, and because I wasn’t allowed to come, I didn’t. I was skating real close to the edge, though, and it was maddening.
It was my very first fuck, even if was a second-hand, two day old fuck, and I wasn’t physically there. And I wanted to come so bad, and I couldn’t because Daddy wouldn’t allow it yet. But I could beg, and I did—or rather Lacy did. It was part of the game, I guess, but for me it was heartfelt. “Please—please—please—I’m so close—please ...”
When I’d pumped Adele for details the previous day, she’d mentioned that the men who got these dolls needed a big supply of EverReady pills—she said that stuff would let her Uncle Max keep on fucking without ever coming; or else come over and over, all night, if he felt like it. She’d gotten all wistful when she passed along that bit of news. For my part, I hadn’t known that guys needed that sort of help—I, myself, had managed several marathons of masturbation.
Anyway, it looked like Daddy was on the same pills. It was ages before he finally pulled me off and stood me on my feet. Then he lay down on the bed -his cock was still standing up, but I guess maybe his back was starting to fade. While he made himself comfortable, I stood there swaying and pulling on my clit.
He put his arms behind his head to watch me frig myself, for a bit, and then he tugged my leash and told me to sit on his rock-hard wang. “You can do the work, for a while,” he said.
I quickly crouched over him, so that I faced his feet, and I whimpered in anticipation as I guided his cock between my pussy lips. And then I drove myself down—hard.
My pussy practically went into convulsions, fluttering feebly on the tasty filling it longed to crush—but I still wasn’t allowed to come. I could get as close as I liked, though, so I set myself in motion—pushing myself slowly back up with my feet until my cunny lips just nipped the bottom ridge of his cock-head, and then dropping all the way back down his greased cock, again and again.
Once I’d set up a rhythm, I started stroking the skin of my belly, which was rather nice; and then I slid both hands down to where Daddy and I were connected together (which coincidentally squeezed my big tits pleasantly tightly between my arms). I began rubbing the heel of one hand on my clit, which left my fingers dangling just below my tight-stretched cunnie lips ... where they were free to run along Daddy’s shaft, as it moved in and out of me. I let my other hand settle back into an overhand clutch at the base of his cock. And all the while, I was chanting, “Please, please, please ...”
I kept humping on Daddy for what seemed like ages—and I knew I could keep going forever ... or at least until my power cell ran down. But I wasn’t sure how long I could stand the stimulation—machine or no, my eyes were watering, my nipples were puckered to tight buttons, and at some point I’d stopped chanting and started to make a growling sound in the back of my throat. As I ground up and down in a rising frenzy, I got more and more desperate.
At last, Daddy said, “Hold on tight, girl,” and he swung his feet off the bed like he was gonna stand up. The only thing I had to hold on tight with was my pussy, but he took fresh hold of my hips, and launched us off the bed together. He kept right on going, though, so that I finished up crouched on the floor, with him lodged inside me from behind. Leash still in hand, he began pumping hard. I only just heard him whisper, “Now.”
Lacy and I screamed, and each time my pussy clenched and released its prize, I could feel a fresh orgasm roar through me. After a great shudder and a matching bellow, Daddy joined in, his one-eyed monster rearing up inside me to pump a torrent of cum into my quaking belly.
It occurred to me that I was about to feint—my vision was going all star-bursty. And then, the very next thing I knew, I was sitting in Daddy’s closet, facing the Lacy-bot on her throne ... and she was staring wide-eyed back at me. Also, THERE WAS SOMETHING SHOVED UP MY ASS! Way up—I could feel the head of it in my chest, somewhere, slowly withdrawing. It was both alarming and erotic at the same time—I closed my eyes to enjoy the sensation. When whatever it was popped out, I opened my eyes, and then shook my head to clear it. Obviously I was having some weird reaction to the virtual reality thingie.
The Lacy-bot shook her head, too, and lifted her hands to her temples along with me. Bitch. But then I finally realized that I was looking into a big mirror on the inside of the closet door. Which meant that I must still be wearing the headset; apparently I was getting a live feed. What time was it? Oh—the answer immediately arrived in my head. It was exactly 1401 hours—two o’clock in the afternoon. Lacy’s regular ‘start’ time.
Then something else hit me. I wasn’t just getting input from Lacy; I must be up-linking, too, ‘cause I’d been moving her arms around. Before, I’d been stuck in a recording, but now I had real-time control of her. Cool! I tried standing up—success! Except that I had a sudden sense of what was happening inside Lacy—hydraulics and servos and gyros all busily making her move for me. It only lasted a moment, thankfully, and then it was gone. I shivered it off, then stretched and smiled at my nudie reflection. And then I spun around to try to see what had been up my butt. There was nothing in the seat but some circular hatch-covers. It must have been her power cable I felt retracting.
That was a bit too weird for me—it was time to bail, now that I could move. I waved an arm to bring up the menu. Nothing. So I began to flap my arms and dance around, like trying harder would help—until I caught sight of my reflection again. All my ample, borrowed bits were bouncing merrily, and I had to laugh. God—I could get use to a body like this. I hefted my breasts in front of the mirror and watched my nipples harden until they could have served as coat-pegs. It felt so good!
Having calmed down, I realized that all I had to do to break the link was go down to my bedroom and use Lacy to take the headset off myself. No problem. In the meantime ... why shouldn’t I spend a little time playing at being Lacy? I was seriously horny, but the notion took me that I should be getting dressed. I suspected that both the horniness and the urge to put on clothing must be part of Lacy’s programming. But I figured it couldn’t do any harm to see what was on her hangers. Not the conservative daytime housekeeper stuff—I wanted to try out some of the sexy stuff she wore for Daddy.
There were negligees and teddies, harem pants and some kinky leather stuff. And there was also one of my school uniforms. Not mine, exactly—this plaid skirt was much shorter, and the white shirt was cut big enough to tightly encase Lacy-sized knockers. I pulled them on, all the time thinking, ‘Holy shit! Has Daddy been fantasizing about me, even before I started to lust after him?’ I stared at myself in the mirror again. The hair, the face. Hell, the name. Lacy didn’t look so much like Mamma as she looked like me. (Not in the tit department, though.) Adele must have seen it. Why else would she suggest I go for a virtual romp with my own father? She’d even told me she’d done it with her uncle.
The idea that Daddy wanted me really wound me up. I sat back on my throne, flipped up my skirt (did I mention that I’d skipped the panties?), and began to frig myself, fingers churning deep. It was very, very pleasant, but it wasn’t getting me off. Plan B, then. I knew, through Lacy, that there were more sex toys in Daddy’s top drawer. I stepped out of the closet to get them, and suddenly realized I stood in precisely the same place Lacy had been at the beginning of the recorded sex session I’d just enjoyed.
And, even as that thought came to mind, my clothes vanished and I was stepping forward, and Daddy was coming out of the bathroom. The recording had started over again! For the next twenty-five minutes, I happily repeated the morning’s session—and it was every bit as much fun. The only difference was that at the point where I’d had the big ‘O’ and passed out, there was a sort of flash, like a power surge; after which the recording continued for a few more minutes, until my pussy stopped clenching long enough for Daddy to pull free.
And then—he vanished. I turned my head to look for him, but he was definitely gone, along with the cum that had been leaking out of me. The recording had ended, as abruptly as it began, and left me still linked to Lacy, who was crouched on the floor. I must have acted out the whole thing, during the playback. Or acted out a lot of it, at least—some of the time, Lacy had been hoisted airborne.
I stood up and dusted off my uniform, which I’d been wearing all along; and then it occurred to me I needed to go into Daddy’s bathroom. I found that something new had been added since Lacy had arrived—a metal box the size of a shower stall stood in one corner. Without even thinking about it, I shed my uniform, stepped inside and closed the door. It began to hum, and then it started to fire needle-sharp jets of water at me from all around.
Turned out, it was sort of an android carwash. It washed, and maybe waxed, my entire exterior. Plus, by the time I stumbled out three minutes later, it had liberally flushed all my bodily openings ... by pumping a flood of soapy water into my mouth with a flexible hose. The water then sprayed out everywhere else—ass, pussy, piss-hole, nose, and even my nipples, for God’s sake—in high-pressure jets. (I wondered: ‘What does Lacy need to pee for? She’s a machine.’ There were some games I still hadn’t heard about, at that point.) The only holes I didn’t fountain from were my ears ... but afterward I got a shot of fresh oil squirted into them both.
Okay—that was different. I put my clothes back on and wandered down to the living room. After a few minutes of pottering around, tidying stuff up, I realized I was following Lacy’s afternoon routine. ‘Shit. Get a grip, girl,’ I thought. I knew that what I should be doing was going to pull the headset off my real body; after which, I could figure out how to get the doll back upstairs ... to hide the fact I’d been messing with it. But the thing was, this was Friday—Daddy’s late night. I’d be home alone for hours—time enough to see what else was in Lacy’s ‘library’.
The trouble was, I still didn’t know how to bring up the menu. So I carried on swinging a duster along the big mantle over the fireplace, while I considered the matter. As I reached up to brush a mote off the clock, I suddenly felt Daddy’s cock driving up my ass. Which was definitely a surprise. I was also now wearing a leather bustiere and high-heeled boots (and nothing else), and holding on tight to the mantle while driving my ass back to match Daddy’s enthusiastic pumping. The fire had suddenly come alive, too, and I could feel its warmth on my bare belly.
When that recording ended, I was left folded over the back of the sofa with my tail in the air. Dazed, I began to wander around the house, hoping it would happen again. Which it did—in the laundry room, where I finished up sitting on the still-vibrating dryer (which I’d turned on during my weird re-enactment). That went rather well, I thought. There was definitely a pattern emerging here. It seemed like all I had to do was think of Daddy, and if I were in the right place, the appropriate recording would launch itself. Which it did again in the pantry, at the end of which I was standing naked on a counter, holding an empty bottle of olive oil (don’t ask). I couldn’t believe I’d slept through this stuff when it actually happened.
After a major mop-up and towel-down to get rid of all the oil, I found my uniform, dressed, and started wandering around the house again—waiting for ‘inspiration’ to strike. It took a little longer, this time, but when I stepped through the door into Daddy’s study, another recording launched itself. I felt the now familiar ‘blink’ as stuff changed around: the curtains now closed, a few books in new locations ... and now Daddy himself was there, sitting in his favourite chair. He was wearing his best cashmere suit (which explained why it was at the dry-cleaners)—and his fly was open to display his cock, all ready to play. I crossed the room, shedding in my wake a mini-skirt and panties I hadn’t noticed in the closet. That left me in nothing but a long red silk shirt, the fabric of which was pleasantly slip-sliding on my skin as I walked—caressing my swollen nipples, and slithering over my hips to hide my already leaking pussy.
Daddy stood up to meet me and, taking hold of the globes of my ass through the silk, he pulled me in so close that his cock folded up tight against my belly. Then he kissed me, long and deep. As our tongues wrestled, he lifted my shirttails upwards so he could grip bare skin. After caressing my exposed bum cheeks for a while, he took hold of my hips and lifted me off my feet.
Just like in the first recording I’d experienced (twice, so far), I opened my legs to him, and wrapped my arms around his neck. There was no teasing, this time—he just hoisted me up and thrust into me until I was solidly lodged on his waiting cock.
Holding his shoulders tightly, I leaned out from his body, with my back arched, my feet hooked together behind his waist, and my pussy gripping onto his cock. I finished up levitating over the rug, looking up at the ceiling and shuddering with delight.
Daddy balanced me there for a minute, and then he marched me over to his desk and settled my ass down on its edge. I unwrapped my legs, and he began to plunge his slithery cock inside me, in and out, while pens and papers flew everywhere. For a while, I propped myself up with my elbows to watch him, but then I dropped flat onto my back—I could feel myself building towards a major orgasm. At which point, Daddy lifted up my now flapping legs and put my ankles onto his shoulders, without even missing a beat. His hips kept on slamming into me, and I gave a great groan as we finally came, together.
Afterwards, Daddy eased his tool out, and settled back into his comfy chair. I struggled to my feet, expecting the recording to end and him to vanish. But he was still there, patting his knee and inviting me to sit. I climbed aboard, happily, and kissed his cheek. He gave me a hug in return; after which he lifted me up, spun me around so that my back faced his chest, and then, once he’d guided my slobbering cunnie back into position over his cum-coated cock ... he let me drop. I took most of him in a single plunge; with just a little wriggling of my bottom to settle in comfortably, I had his entire organ burning and twitching inside me again.
Looking over at the mirror, I wanted to laugh. With his suit and my skirt-length shirt, we looked almost respectable ... his cock was doing the nasty while completely hidden. We didn’t actively fuck, yet—I just sat quietly in Daddy’s lap, while he rubbed my shoulders, and then ran his fingers through my hair. Finally, he asked me if I’d like to listen to some music. I agreed—naturally—and so then he tinkered with his remote to turn on his system and select a track. A bolero, he said it was.
Once it started, he stood up without warning, and we tumbled forward onto the carpet—still locked together. I landed on my hands and knees, and so did he, over top of me. After delivering a few long strokes—just because he could, I think—he pulled his cock free and rolled me to my back.
I just lay there and smiled at him—what’s next?
Not much—at first. He just lay alongside me, while his fingertips roamed all over my body with a touch that was just barely there. Closing my eyes, I let the music flow over me; and when, from time to time, he found a place that was more than usually sensitive, I’d moan my approval.
Gradually he worked his way downward. After he’d reached my feet, he gently spread my legs apart, and then lay between them. I braced my pussy for a good tongue-lashing; but instead, he began to nibble and kiss my left knee. Huh? I propped myself up to stare at him, but he just carried on. Setting a nice easy pace, to match the music, he began working his way up to the inside hollow of my left thigh. A few munches more, and he’d reached my pussy. Finally! He continued up the plump outboard edge—good ... nipped my clit—better ... and then began working his way down the other side: pussy-lip, top of my leg (wait—go back!) and on down.
Okay—that was teasing. Again. But from my right knee he came back to my impatient pussy. He started by lapping up our mingled juices; meanwhile I lay back with my head on one arm, and played with his thick hair with my free hand. As I drifted, the rhythm of his movements was slowly increasing, along with the hypnotic melody.
Pretty soon, he started shifting his attention to my clit—giving it the faintest of brushes, then gliding away to explore my secret folds again, but always working his way back. Then he gently slipped his fingers in me, and began matching the rhythm of both the music and his tongue.
A while longer, and Daddy began to suck hard on my stiff clit, meanwhile feeding my pussy more fingers. I found my lust rising along with the pace of things. I was on the brink again, juices flooding, when he put his whole hand inside me. My orgasm hit me hard, and I could feel my cunnie grasping at his hand, pulling it deeper; and still the music was rising ...
And then he abruptly pulled his arm free. I writhed and begged him to put it back—to please, please keep up the stimulation that fed the waves rushing over me. But instead, he ran together a row of little kisses up my belly, between my trembling breasts, and up my neck. When he reached my mouth, his tongue snaked and tangled with mine. And then, as the music surged on, he impaled me with his marvellous cock. I let loose a gasp both of surprise and of relief—but he paused AGAIN, while I squirmed under him and tried to move ... tried to catch up to the relentless melody. I found it nearly impossible—he had me pinned, in several senses, to the floor. Between a cock and a hard place, as it were. He had complete power over me, and I was deliriously happy.
Lifting himself onto his arms, he put his head to the side, and gave me a wicked smile. He got to his knees, and seeing as I was still coupled to him, I was lifted along for the ride. Stuffing several large cushions under my bum, he next hoisted my ankles high on his shoulders to improve his angle of attack. Then, finally, he started to fuck me properly.
He drove hard and fast, and so did the music, until my cunt began clenching uncontrollably again. His eyes widened and then rolled back as he came, slamming deeper than ever and bouncing me into the pillows. As he toiled away, my shrieks echoed through the empty house, and I came too ... I don’t know if was it one huge orgasm or a whole bunch, back to back, but it lasted for a long time.
And then he was gone, and I lay trembling on the rug, with some cushions under my ass.