3

LEILA

The hand at my thigh is rising painfully slow, but I won’t rush him.

Our kiss becomes slow, tender. And that scares me, because I came for a quick adventure but might walk away with heartache.

I can’t fall for the man who won’t remember me after taking his helmet off.

His hand reaches my hip and curves down to squeeze my ass. I gasp, because although I don’t have much back there, he finds a way to touch me as if he can’t get enough. Squeezing and pulling, kneading me. Shaping me into whatever he wants. And right now, he’s shaping me into a river, because my my pussy is drenched and my limbs are liquid.

I drive my hands down his chest, further, further, until my palm is overflown with hard, wanting, cock. This thing has to be fake, because being this well-endowed in real life would be downright criminal.

His groan arouses me almost as much as his touch. Wanting to hear more, I squeeze softly. I’m successful, and this time he exhales hot air. Before I can test what other sounds he can make, I’m on my back with my legs parted wide and my mouth wider because he’s there. His hot mouth sucking on my pussy like he has known it for years. No inhibition, no hesitation, just a hunger to explore my cunt like it’s another world. Like the one that surrounds us isn’t as magical as mine.

I pant and stare at the blue sky, fighting my moans. My hands fist the grass, holding on for dear life, but I’m going to fall embarrassingly fast. His tongue is sliding through my sensitive folds, circling rhythmically. Sometimes he breaks the pattern to suck, and it’s that damn unexpected tug that stimulates my entire pussy and will be the end of me.

His hands remain on my thighs, his thumbs stroking my skin gently unlike the raw, rough nature of his tongue.

His skill must be simulated by the maniche, too. There’s no way a real man could be this good.

He locks his lips on me, done playing games, and he sucks, moving his head to and from me to increase the pressure. There are no more sweet laps of his tongue, no teasing flicks of my clit. He has consumed all of me, and he won’t let go until I shatter.

The suction has me shifting my hips and ripping fistfuls of grass. His mouth is so warm, his lips soft but unyielding.

When he sucks and releases me to kiss my swollen sex, all the pressure inside me bursts, and pleasure consumes me for fifteen heavenly seconds.

“Good,” he murmurs, rising as I struggle to catch my breath.

My hazy eyes are staring at the sky when his thick, dark member blocks my view. Instinct has me tipping my head up and pulling him into my checks.

From this angle, I can see his flared nostrils and clenched teeth. I can see what it does to him when I circle his tip with my tongue, playing with the first inch of his cock.

I love the feeling of it jerking in my mouth, so I suck and relax my lips. He lets me explore him, patient although he groans like he’s in pain.

When I rest my weight on an elbow and pull more into my mouth until the fat cock forces tears to my eyes and wetness to my sex that still pulses from my orgasm. I retreat to his tip, and begin a slow, cautious pace. It’s interesting how much I enjoy having my cheeks stretched wide. How satisfying it is when he murmurs “good girl” whenever I don’t gag.

He knows what he’s equipped with. Knows how any woman would struggle having their mouth stuffed full of his unforgiving cock, and he makes sure to reward me with sweet whispers and occasionally petting my wet, convulsing pussy.

I don’t pick up my pace, stroking him with my lips and tongue slowly, but he seems satisfied with that.

At least for a few minutes, because after a while, I’m flipped onto my belly, and feel his lips press against my cheeks.

“Ready?” He asks huskily, only capable of one-worded sentences at this point.

“Yes,” I exhale.

He presses into me, and I stretch to accommodate him. Although he’s gentle, although he gives us time to unite, being stretched by his thick cock sparks a small burning sensation inside me.

It’s interesting how he can make my mind and body burn all at once.

He thrusts inside me, speeding and getting greedier with every clap of his balls against my skin. I love how he fills my pussy with his inches and my ears with his moans. How deeply he strokes me with his warmth, leaving no part of me untouched.

“Fuck,” he groans, speeding his thrusts.

“Fuck!” with a rasp, he pulls out of me. I turn around. First I see his cock— engorged and twitching, and then I see the panic in his expression.

“What is it?” I ask.

He grabs his cock and pumps it a few times, grunting when his seed splatters on the grass. I watch in amazement.

He’s panting as he releases himself and looks into my eyes.

I sit with my knees covering my chest, unsure what  happens now. This was the first time I had a one-night stand, if this one even counts as one.

“I’m in trouble,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “I think I’m addicted to you.”

I laugh sadly. “Well then it’s a good thing you won’t be able to remember me when you log out.”

“Right.”

Silence ensues. It’s awkward now, although my body still pulses and calls for his. I hope I don’t remember him when I log out. Things would be easier that way.

“I should go,” I say.

This time, he doesn’t respond.

I log out and wake up on my bed. I pull my helmet off, and when I sit up, I notice my soaked panties.

“Great,” I mumble to my empty, dark, apartment.

There is no green grass or blue sky here.

-HENRY-

I log out of the machine, sitting up on my chair and taking my helmet off.

“Great,” I grumble when I find a fucking mess in my pants. I came like a teenage boy.

That’s a first.

I pick up my cell phone, and find three missed calls from my close friend and financial advisor. I call him back as I head toward the bathroom and strip.

“You called?”

“Yes. Are you done with your games?”

I sigh. “They’re not games. You know I have to log in and check the status of the functions.”

“Well, you better hope it doesn’t get out that you’re keeping your memories when you’re in the machine.”

“It’s my company, Gregory. I have to check the functions and report bugs. It’s better if I test my own product.”

I must admit I crossed the line by touching her. But when she approached me, I instantly stopped thinking with the head on my shoulders.

Fucking her is unethical, given my ownership of the system. A conflict of interest has been created and it has my mind and body at war, because my cock is addicted to her, but I must stay away.

“And how was everything when you logged in?”

“Fine,” I grit.

No, it’s not. I’ve complicated everything. The virtual machine wasn’t just built for sex, but for education and social exploration. I never thought I would use it to fuck a user. That’s a primal, cliche use that the machine is infamous for.

I can’t log in and see her again.