Virtual Reality

"Oh dear," she said. "Oh dear, oh dear. I hope you were telling me the truth, Mike, about not getting me pregnant."

He slapped her ass again, stood up. "Lick me clean, June," he said, and a moment later she was on her hands and knees in front of him, his dick in her mouth.

When she stood up, he told her not to worry, he was as fertile as the Arctic in January. Then he cupped her face with his hands and kissed her. She was still aroused, still ready for more, as she returned his kiss hungrily. But he knew he should go. He had gotten what he wanted. From this point forward, his presence might only cause trouble.

"Well, I need to get going, June. Thanks for a great time. When you play with your cunt tonight, you think of me, hear?"

She blushed, but she stood at ease, apparently comfortable in her nakedness. "Must you leave so soon, Mike?" She put her arms around his neck and kissed him again, making sure that she leaned in close so her small bare breasts brushed against him.

He reached around, spanked her ass again, then cupped it, kneading her cheeks. She moaned in his mouth as they kissed.

"Damn, you are one sex-starved little housewife," he said once they broke the kiss. "But I do need to go . . . for now."

She smiled. "Yes. Please come back to me. You need to do more check-ups for the air-conditioner installation anyway, right, Mike?"

Air-conditioner? What air-conditioner? Oh! Right! Sure, sure!

"Do me a favor, though, June," he said. "Between now and then, I want you to shave your bush, okay? Some guys like a forest down there. I'm not one of them. You'd look great with shaved pubes, June."

She looked down at her privates. "But . . . I've never . . ."

"So I noticed," he said. "Tell you what, babe. You leave it like it is. And the next time we get together, I'll shave it for you, deal? It'll be a part of the foreplay. I bet old Ward wouldn't know what foreplay is if it tried to fuck him right in the face. Am I right?"

She nodded, but he could tell she was still thrown by his plan to shave her. He would have loved to do the honors right now. But he should go.

Before he left, he took her bra, a granny-style affair—just what one would expect a woman like June Cleaver would wear.

"I want to keep this," he said. "As a souvenir. And I also want you to go braless the rest of the day. See if hubby even notices."

He put his clothes on, and so did she. They walked downstairs, to the front door.

She again put her arms around his neck and kissed him, giving him plenty of tongue.

"When's the last time you French-kissed your husband, baby?" he wanted to know.

"The next time will be the first," she said.

"Do it tonight, when he comes home from work, and lean into him so he can feel your braless tits. See what he does. Okay?"

She shrugged. "Well . . . why not?"

He smiled, and before she could kiss him again, he left.

Immediately he felt disoriented, as if his brain were being split apart, and he was immersed in darkness. Then, slowly, slowly, light, sound, yelling . . . Yelling? A woman's voice telling someone he had a small dick. A man's voice returning her insults with barbs of his own. The humming of a PC. And . . .

"Well, Mr. Cooper? How did it go?"

He blinked. Several times. And that's when Jon Chamberlinne came into focus. The stringy, unwashed hair, the zits, the wire-rimmed glasses. Yes. He had been using Chamberlinne's application. That's where he'd been all this time. God, it had felt so real. So real . . .

He felt something in his hands, looked down. A bra! A relic, something right out of the 1950s. But it was impossible. How could it be? And yet . . . there it was. June Cleaver's bra, in his grasp.

Even Chamberlinne appeared surprised. "Hmm, my invention seems even more impressive than I'd thought," he said. "The merging of the virtual, the fantasy, with the real seems to be complete. That is encouraging. And troubling. Consequences. Consequences. Perhaps I am playing with dynamite here, Mr. Cooper."

Mike let out a breath. "It was incredible, Chamberlinne. I tell you, it was fucking incredible! I was there! I mean, it's like it really happened!" He looked at the bra in his hands. "Hell, I guess, in a way, it did really happen! I fucked June Cleaver."

Chamberlinne laughed. "Glad to hear you were successful, Mr. Cooper. Care to visit that well again the next time?"

The next time. Did he really want to do this again? If he was able to bring her bra back, then maybe something terrible could happen to him while he was patrolling Jon Chamberlinne's virtual universe. Maybe he could be killed. Still, he was hooked now. Hooked. How could he stop now? He'd had a taste, a small drink. He wanted to gorge himself, feast on every fantasy woman he had ever lusted after. There would be a next time, all right. Many of them.

"I will be in the process of testing my application for some time yet," Chamberlinne went on. "You can come back and use it, free of charge, whenever you like, Mr. Cooper. Until I am ready to market it, I welcome your forays into my little fantasy world. Every time someone uses it, I can better grasp the principles at play here. But I must say, that bra you're holding certainly muddies things up a bit. Still a lot of testing needs to be done."

Upstairs, Mrs. Hanson slammed a door, Mr. Hanson screamed that she could go to hell, and then Mike heard frantic footsteps racing along the stairway outside the door.

"She usually leaves every night, at one point or another," Chamberlinne said. "She'll be back. So . . . do you want a repeat performance tomorrow evening, Mr. Cooper? Are you game? Willing to try this out again?"

"I'll be here," Mike said. "Count on it."