A Cybertech Valentine's Day Gift

Last week, in the cold February of 2004, my wife and co-worker Laura announced that she was leaving for England -- the other side of the globe -- for a month of collaborative research. I gasped. My heart sank.

"But honey, you know my career in research is important to me," she had said.

"I know, I know. It's just that it's a whole month. And over Valentine's Day?"

"It'll be over before we know it. And we've got our Web cams and microphones. Sure, having sex over the computer doesn't exactly measure up, but …"

But I understood. I would have argued the same thing. Love me, love my career. Then she said "Well, it WILL measure up very soon. Which is one reason I'm going to be on the other side of the world when we next have sex."

But a month without the touch of her hands? I thought as I made love to an after-work beer at Joe's Pub. I was caressing the cold bottle as I had only caressed my Laura. Could I survive a whole month?

Tonight, I drove home from work in total dejection. I watched the square, tan, uninspiring windows of Cybertech, Inc., recede from my view. One would never think that wanton fucking -- both real and cyber -- went on at this building. They say business and pleasure should never mix, but that's what makes for the best sex. That's where we had met: I as a marketer and Laura as a tech researcher. Then, over lunch, Web cam voyeurism, and singing emails, we became lovers. She had left this morning before I'd even awakened. I had hoped that she'd at least leave behind a pair of worn panties for me to sniff, but she had even done the laundry. Instead, there was only an empty perfume bottle left for me, with a note reading "Tonight, the perfect bottle."

"The perfect bottle"? How I remembered those words so distinctly! They had been spoken the first time we'd undressed for each other -- at work, in our own offices, and over the Internet.

When I saw the tufts of hair poking well out of her clinical white panties and staring at my through my monitor, I hugged the screen and pressed my face to it. Hair!

"You like?" she asked me.

"I want!" I cried. "I'm coming over right now!" And I dressed and raced down the hall to my lover's office, where she stood almost naked, fingering herself silly. That day in her office, we whispered filthy words in each other's ears as I plunged in and out of her wet, hairy cunt. I knelt down and buried my nose deep inside her, sniffing her rich musk. I did that for ten minutes before coming up.

"Well, I can tell what your fetish is, Jeff."

"If you could bottle that for me, I would NEVER leave my office. Never."

Laura handed her wet panties to me. "Keep these for a while. I'll start looking for the perfect bottle."

So began the courtship that led to romance and marriage.

Upon arriving home, I ate in silence, trying to think of London at this time of year. Laura would be helping to create a new electronic mail system with her colleagues over there. She had not told me anything beyond that: only that I would be surprised.

It was after supper that I noticed the black box that sat in our office. I picked it up and studied it. It was a device I'd never seen before, but it looked like a small computer and mouse. The box had a thick, hollow tube sticking out, with a flat pad hanging from the tube; and a thin, solid tube attached to the center of a flat pad. I rubbed the pads on my hands, trying to figure out what to do with them. I put them to my ears. No sound. Taped to the box were an email address and a time. "Look me up at 8 o'clock. XOXOX." It was Laura's writing. Was this a Valentine's Day gift? If it was, I didn't smell any chocolate anywhere.

At 7:55 I logged on to my Internet meeting site, typed in the address and waited.

"Jeff?" came an immediate response and a familiar face. I was getting TV-quality reception over the Web cam.

"Laura? Is that you?"

"Jeff, I miss you already."

I hugged the monitor. "Laura, come home, please."

"I'm sitting in a hotel room in London, bored."

"I'm sitting at home in Los Angeles, bored. I had no idea I would be seeing you so soon."

"You'll be doing more than that in a minute."

"What do you mean?" I asked. But she said no more.

We talked for an hour about her trip, about the colleagues she'd met, about the work ahead of her. I barely listened as I noticed anew her facial expressions and her online liveliness.

"Jeff, let's hook up that box I left for you."

"Yes, what is this thing? I rattled it and didn't hear any candy moving around."

"It's your Valentine's Day gift. But the candy is yet to come." And she explained to me how to hook the box to the computer. She had even given me a multiport USB for it! She had thought of everything!

Then came the software. I tried to analyze its properties when the dialog boxes appeared on the screen, but Laura had erased most of the text. I had no idea what I was installing.

"You're not bugging my computer, are you?"

From London, Laura shook her head at me.

"Is the little red light on?" she asked.

"Yes."

"What about the ‘receiving data' and ‘sending data' lights?"

"Affirmative."

"The ‘activity' light?"

"All systems go. Please tell me what this is."

"The lights for data sets 1, 2 and 3?"

"Um, yeah. All on. We sure have a lot of data here. Can we get started? You know, you didn't leave me the little item of clothing that you usually do when you're gone for more than a day."

But she was ignoring me. "We have a successful installation. Now we prepare for the fun part."

Then, to my surprise, Laura stood up and began to remove her clothes. Instead of getting an erection, I felt the heat of frustration burning my cheeks. I watched as she shed her gray business suit, her blouse, and her boring gray skirt.

"Am I turning you on?" she asked me.

"Yeah," I drawled half-heartedly.

"I understand your impatience, Jeff, but I'm going to blow your mind in just one minute. Now pay some attention to me."

Clad only in black underwear now, she deftly slipped a hand down her tight panties. That same hand moved around inside, up and down, and around and around.

"Nice" I whispered.

Then she brought her hands to her nose and inhaled, closing her eyes and clearly enjoying her smell.

"I hate you, Laura. How could you torture me like this so soon?"

"Take off your clothes," my wife suddenly ordered.

"What?"

"Take them off right now!"

"Yes, ma'am." With that, I stood up and disrobed. "Underwear, too?"

"Yes," came her harsh voice.

My cock popped out of my briefs. It bounced up and down, to my wife's obvious delight.

"Ooh, I wish I was sucking that big, gorgeous thing." I could see the excitement in her eyes. "Play with it. Now."

As I stroked the length of my cock, Laura removed the rest of her clothing. Standing naked in front of me, but 6,000 miles away, she let my eyes rake over her body. She had long, straight, black hair that flowed over her small shoulders. Her nose was small and rounded, and her lips were set in a perpetual smirk. Her perky B-cup breasts with large pink nipples stood at attention. Aside from a scar and a few moles, her skin was a creamy Irish white. Down below, between wide, muscular hips, rested a thick patch of black hair. It spilled over its boundaries, climbing up to her navel, and reaching down her thighs and between them. It was my own private Amazon, as I thought of her wild, untamed forest.

Then she sat down at the desk in front of her screen. "Okay, Jeff, now the fun begins. You've seen me naked, and now we will test data set number 1."

"Laura, your tech talk is really turning me on."

She picked up a red pad with a cord and placed the pad between her legs. She shifted her body as she moved the pad around, fitting it to herself somehow.

My eyes darted immediately to the black box on my desk. My breathing stopped, and my suspicion heightened. Something was beginning to dawn on me.

"Leave number 1 on and turn off all the others. Then close your eyes and await my orders."

As I did so, my cock remained harder than ever. I held it in my hand, thrusting into my palm. I could hear squeaking noises on the other end.

"I'm playing with myself, Jeff," I heard her say. "Ooh, I'm all wet down here. Mmm, do I feel good!"

After a minute of this torture, I was ordered to sit down. My cock banged against the table as I did. I heard some rustling on the other end. Then Laura told me to pick up the flat pad and press it to my nose.

As soon as I did, I opened my eyes and jumped in utter amazement.

"Oh, my God!" I screamed. "My God!"

I picked it up again and pressed it to my nose. There, invading my nostrils, was the unmistakable smell of Laura's pussy. From 6,000 miles away, I was sniffing her very crotch. It was then that I understood. The strong scent of her private parts had been converted to electronic impulses, sent through wires, and reconverted back to odor molecules.

I sat there in stunned silence. Disbelieving, I looked at Laura. She was beaming at me.

"Well, I can see it must work," she said. "It was all very simple in theory. Odors are made of molecules, molecules are a form of matter, and matter and energy are interchangeable. All I had to do was convert matter to energy and back again."

I picked up the pad again and sniffed deeply. I drank it in. I couldn't speak.

"So you see, Jeff, we won't be separated as badly as you thought."

"Is this what you're working on?"

"You're my first private subject, and this is my own, independent invention. No one knows about it except you." Laura stood up and showed me the patch strapped to her hips. "It's got a dildo that inserts into me, and millions of synthetic nerves attached to the patch as well as the dildo."

"Let me get this straight. You invented this patch thing?"

"And the tube on your end, too. It's an artificial vagina with a pad that fits over your balls. When we first tested electronic odor transmission, we were working with roses, chocolate, pizza, everything except what was on my mind when we started this project -- Jeff, stop that sniffing and listen to me."

"I'm sorry, Laura. It's -- "

"Put your hard cock into the other tube, the wide one."

I did as told. She was going to sniff me.

Sure as I'd thought, I saw Laura pick up a pad and hold it to her nose. She inhaled deeply, her eyes tightly closed. Like many technogeeks, cybernuts and Republicans, we had off-the-wall tastes in sex. Many a time, an afternoon nap meant curling up in the 69 position and wafting off into la-la land on a scented breeze of genital fragrance.

"Well?" I asked. "How is it?"

"It's wonderful, Jeff. Crisp and clear. But there's more."

"There is? Is that what data sets number 2 and 3 are for?"

We turned on our switches together. As she told me to put my tongue on the patch, instead of my nose, I knew exactly what to expect.

I could feel the intricate folds of Laura's vagina. The soft, silky lips in all their exact texture. On my tongue, I could feel her marble-sized clitoris growing. On the side of the black patch, I could feel and smell the thick growth of hair around her pussy. And I could taste it all, too. I could taste copious amounts of briny pussy juice seeming to flow right over my tongue. On my computer screen, I saw Laura with a dildo the size of my cock in her mouth. She was sucking it, and was feeling the sensations of my penis.

"Oh, God," she moaned. "All I did was transform texture and taste sensations into energy via the modem converter here. Oh, God, I'm coming. I'm coming already."

And then I came. "Oh, that's not good," I exclaimed. I pulled off the velvet sleeve and looked inside. "Uh oh."

"I felt that, Jeff. I felt you cum, and I tasted it, but there was no cum there."

I knew instantly we were going to get rich. People able to feel cum squirting into their mouths, but not having to swallow it? Confirmed masturbators and cybersex addicts would soon finance our retirements. Yes, we would make a killing on this machine.

"Well, that's going to be a bit of a problem," said Laura. "I guess it's back to the drawing board for a few touchups. My own strap-on patch is leaking out the sides."

"Let's try something," I offered. "I assume data set number 3 is for touch sensations. Let's leave that one on and turn off the other two."

At my request, Laura took the dildo out of her mouth and placed it into her pussy. I put my cum-soaked sleeve back on. Just as I'd thought, we were able to feel each other's genitals. The sleeve on my cock was loaded with synthetic cells feeding me the sensations of Laura's hot cunt. Soon we were bucking with the motions of intercourse as if we were really there.

"Incredible!" Laura screamed.

Soon we were hugging our computers. I screamed "I want to ram your hot pussy" and "You're so fucking tight" as I put my face to the screen and kissed Laura's mouth. Then we turned on the other data sets so we could smell and taste each other as we fucked. Natural sex could not provide all these thrills simultaneously.

I could feel torrents of female cum cascading over my rock-hard cock, and I could taste its rich ocean flavor. I grabbed the black sleeve and pumped harder. Soon I was again filling it with cum.

We rested after Laura screamed a few more times across the Atlantic into my speakers. After we'd gotten some energy back, Laura directed me to right-click on the icon to her program.

"Choose ‘Save as,'" she said.

"Oh, Laura, don't tell me you -- "

"Yes, now you'll be able to repeat our encounter, juices and all."

"Have I ever told you how much I love you? This is the best gift ever. Happy Valentine's Day."

With that, we kissed goodnight through our little cum-soaked patches. I slept very well that night, despite a cock aching from total drainage of sperm. In fact, I slept well for the whole month.

For the next month, I spent a lot of time at home, my mind working overtime. I thought, what if we could shape the computer into a person, so we'd have something to hold onto while we were fucking? What if the computer came in male and female forms, and changeable sexes and body shapes, so we could -- oh, the possibilities of technology!

True, there would still be no substitute for real-life sex, I thought the night before I was to pick up Laura. After writing my resignation notice to Cybertech, Inc., I drifted off to sleep with ideas for the next generation of cybersex technology--

Cyber brothels, scratch-and-sniff online porn, changeable body shapes, altered parts, fantasy lovers, safe sex.

I fell asleep with the thought of cyberdreams someday being downloaded into both Laura's and my heads at the same time, from a server far away, for just dollars a month.