When Correctly Viewed

"Maybe I should try that again," she said when the pulses stopped. I didn't say anything, but redoubled my efforts sucking and lapping at her cunt and clit. I knew that she was close when she started yelping with each lap of my tongue. Her "ah, ah, ah, ah," was becoming louder and shriller, but I was in a race against my body as the sliding tube took me closer and closer to release... or electrical torture.

Finally Tiffany began shrieking and clamped my head firmly between her legs as she rocked her cunt against my face. She dropped the control as she bounced and trembled in an explosive orgasm.

Either she pressed the right button before she lost control or she was holding a deadman button that activated when she dropped the remote. In either case, for the first time in hours, the machine did not spark me back down when I reached the edge. Instead, just as Tiffany started into her orgasm, the tube began moving almost furiously on my prick.

My balls erupted as if they had been holding back for hours and hours... which was exactly what had been happening. I screamed into Tiffany's cunt as my body bounced within my custom built sex suit.

I must have passed out or something because the next thing I remember, Tiffany was working the remote and the suit was bringing me back to the standing position. I could hear the latches releasing and the front and back of the suit began to move apart.

"Can you stand by yourself?" Tiffany asked.

I mumbled something and stepped away from the suit. Then I screamed at her, "Why did you do that to me?"

"You wanted it!" she yelled back. "I've been reading your diaries. You wanted me to take over your machine and drive you crazy for hours and hours."

"That wasn't a diary!" I screamed at her. "It was the first draft of one of my stories that I post on those erotic story sites- like the ones you read when you think I'm not watching."

"Oh," she said very softly. Then she looked at me very sheepishly for a long while and asked, "So, did you enjoy it?"

"Yeah," I replied softly. "I guess so."

"You guess so?" she replied. "You passed out from pleasure when you finally came. If I could do that, I would scream, 'Yes! I enjoyed it!'"

"Do you want to?" I asked.

"Want to what?" she answered.

"Enjoy my machine," I replied. "We'd have to wait until next weekend when we can be sure that nobody will be around, but with just a few adjustments, it would work for a woman."

"Sounds good to me," she said as she brushed the front of her blouse up against my naked chest. "And in the meantime," she added, "we can explore what we like and don't like in regular sex together."

She started walking toward the steps which led to my living area. "I'm losing my apartment at the end of the month anyway," she said over her shoulder. "My roomies have all graduated and I can't find anyone to share the expenses."

She stopped and turned so she could look back at me with a pouting expression on her face and said, "You wouldn't want me thrown out on the street would you?"

And that's how Tiffany Sexbots was born. For the rest of the summer, Tiffany and I worked together cleaning the remaining subassemblies... and building a true prototype of the first Tiffany Pleasure Machine. What we ended up selling as a product a year later looked nothing like my original machine, which we both enjoyed in my parents' garage that summer, but the basic idea remained the same. It adapted the most sophisticated robotics available for pleasure purposes.

My wife and I have made a fortune selling sexbots and pleasure machines since then, and I owe it all to a dirty mind which caused me to see a sexual use for an insignificant, little, taffy-rolling subassembly.

That's the whole story, the true story, a story you can take with you as you graduate and leave South Hampton Institute of Technology. So, remember: (Sung) "When correctly viewed, everything is lewd. I could tell you things about Peter Pan, and the Wizard of Oz, there's a dirty old man."

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