The Sex Machine

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By Lauren McAllister

            Have you ever played a stupid wager-game with your girlfriend?  Alisha and I were always making ridiculous bets with each other.  On one inspired occasion we challenged each other to French kiss 10 strangers in an afternoon.  It was actually a pretty cool way to spend a Saturday; offering up a tongue sandwich to all and sundry.  It’s amazing how few people (men and women) object to being lingually accosted by a pretty girl with a nice set of cans.  Over that summer, we’d blown a policeman (very easy), eaten out a librarian (this took two weeks, several libraries and a bookmobile) and even had a wank while waiting in line for concert tickets (and received an appreciative smattering of applause upon achieving blast-off).  While our next assignment wasn’t hard to accomplish, it did require some real honesty and soul searching.  We each had to locate the least appealing guy at the local shopping mall and spend the entire weekend with him.  The lucky but unsightly gent had to be straight, capable of producing a boner and we were duty bound to allow him perform any act that so pleased him with it.

            The first two guys I picked were really old and fat and disgusting.  I went down on each of them in a Men’s John and neither could rise to the occasion.  Phew!  Still, I couldn’t use that as an excuse to procure a more alluring fellow.  Perhaps the Starbucks would provide me with a few icky mutants to choose from.  Over the years, I’d espied many a gent, sipping an overpriced caffeinated beverage that could turn any girl’s vagina into a veritable dust bowl.  A quick scan of the mismatched second-hand chairs and couches turned up some possible applicants but nothing that really chilled my bones. 

            And then I saw him, a big steaming vision of yuck, sitting alone (of course) near the bathroom. The guy was about thirty-five, reading a sci-fi graphic novel and he absolutely reeked of virginity.  And that wasn’t all he reeked of; I encountered his whiff from halfway across the coffee shop.  He was perfect… as in perfectly horrible.  It was so easy to imagine him in his kitchen whacking-off to the Indian maiden on his Land O Lakes butter tub.  If he was capable of sporting a woody, then smelly boy was my man.

            “Hi,” I beamed.  “Is this seat taken?”

            He just stared at me like I was a walking Snickerdoodle.

            “I was wondering if I could sit here.”

            “But where would I sit?” he queried.

            “Right where you are. We could sit across from each other. So, how’s your book?”

            “It’s a graphic novel,” he rigidly corrected me.

            “Oh. I mostly just read Slash Porn, that’s where fans write stories about their favorite male characters from movies and TV shows corn-holing each other?  Anyway, I wank to that kind of stuff all day long.  Do you like to masturbate?  Cause I was thinking maybe we could do it together sometime.  Where do you live?”

            Often times, with men, you just can’t be too obvious. I had a feeling that this was one of those times.

            Kenny looked up from his book and squinted at me through his thick glasses. There was a weird excited look on his pallid face. “Actually, I have a machine.  I built it for ladies.  Would you like to see it?”

            Oh fuck, I picked a psycho.  Still, he might just be a harmless loony-toon.  I decided to go along with him and find out. Plus, if things got ugly, it might be a great time to test out my new pepper-spray.

            His house (left to him by his mother) looked like something out of a Roger Corman film.  There were bags of clothes everywhere, like he was going to take them to the laundry but never did – he just bought more clothes.  Or, where these the clothes of earlier house-guests that he’d eaten?! I rested my right hand casually inside my purse as he showed me around.  His movie collection.  His comic book collection.  His collection of pre-1964 novelty 78’s and albums. Finally, I had to bring it up, before my head exploded.

            “So, you said you had a machine that you built for women?” I prodded.

            I was hoping to God it wasn’t a self-rotating barbecue spit.

            “Oh yes.  It’s in the basement.  I based it on my mother’s body parts, so I know I have the proportions right. Of course, she would never allow me to look at those very private things until after she was dead…”

            WTF!?  I nervously clutched my pepper dispenser as we descended the creaky wooden steps. My entire shoe collection flashed before my eyes by the time we had reached the bottom.  To my delight and relief, I didn’t see a flesh eating-alien plant or a well-used collection of meat hooks and tit saws.  Far from it.  The basement lights were turned on to reveal this humungus contraption with gears and wires and pulleys and a vibrator on a stick.

            “I got the idea from that George Clooney film, ‘Burn After Reading’. He built this woman-pleasuring machine, but it was really basic.  Just a chair with a swinging dildo.  Frances McDormand seemed to like it but I thought I could do better.  This has self-lubricating vibrators, breast simulators and a patent-pending ‘orgasm spine comb.’  I have calibrated it for maximum female pleasure.”

            I was a gigantic, swirling jumble of thoughts and emotions as I tried to take it all in. This guy was either a genius or a fucking mad man.  Now, I don’t know what the actual ratio of geniuses to fucking mad men is, but I’ll bet it’s not very good.  Regardless, I decided to humor him. “Wow! It’s very impressive. A lot of work must have gone into it.”

            “Four and a half years of blood, sweat and love went into this device,” he said proudly, patting a steel-reinforcing strut.

            “And how do the ladies like it?”

            Kenny suddenly became a lot less proud.  “I don’t know many girls,” he sighed.  “It’s never been used.”

            I weighed my options carefully.  He was definitely going to ask me captain its maiden voyage.  Do I do the sensible thing and turn him down and lose the bet?  I hadn’t lost a wager ever and that included performing several borderline-illegal acts upon my brother.  No, I had to stay strong here and be a sport.

            “Well, I’m a girl and I’d love to try it,” I cheerfully lied.

            He got so excited; I thought his fat was going to explode. “You would!? Oh that would be marvelous.  You won’t be disappointed. I can’t tell you how much this means to me. I am on the very cusp of the world of erogenous cyber-science.”

            His borderline psychotic glee did nothing to assuage my quite reasonable fears. “So, do I take all my clothes off…”

            “Not yet!” he yelled like Gene Wilder in “Young Frankenstein”. “I need to make sure everything is perfect. I’m going to need to take your measurements and perform some routine maintenance.”

            Wow!  I’d never had a man scream at me to not take off my clothes before. It was going to be a weekend of unique experiences. After taking various indelicate measurements (apparently, my nipple to hoo-haw numbers were quite impressive), Kenny took me upstairs and handed me a diet Coke. He sat me down in the midst of his world-class Ewock collection and told me to help myself to any comic book that wasn’t double sealed in plastic while he finished his preparations. 

            Two-and-a-half fucking hours of banging and swearing later he finally came back up to take some more measurements and then back down he went. It was nearly nightfall before Mr. Science herded me into the basement to face my fate.

            His masterwork seemed not different to me but Kenny seemed very pleased with all the changes.

            “So, is this where I take off all my clothes?”

            “It would work better that way.”

            The manner of his reply was so shy and polite; it would have really warmed my heart if I didn’t find him so epically repulsive.  Ken (ever the gentleman) tried so very hard not to stare holes in me as I stripped off my duds. He wasn’t very successful but his noble attempt did manage to lower the overwhelming creep factor of the whole thing ever-so slightly. Once I was completely naked, I posed for a couple of minutes to let him soak it all in.  I mean, the poor guy hadn’t seen the nude female form up close in his entire lifetime, surely this small act of voyeuristic charity would buy me a few Brownie points somewhere down the line.

            “Well, where would you like me?” I queried after a suitable ogle period. 

            “If you could just sit in the chair with you posterior over that little hole.”

            I walked warily over to the desired location and plopped myself down.  What the fuck was I getting myself into?

            “Please put your hands on the armrests,” he requested, glowing with anticipation. “And lift your right palm off that red button at the onset of your orgasm.”

            Well, you’re certainly sure of yourself.

            “Is there a hospital nearby, you know, just in case something goes terribly wrong and I need my vagina sewn back in?”

            Kenny let out a rather annoying snort of laughter and assured me that there was nothing to be worried         about.  He then thanked me so humbly and sincerely; I got a little teary eyed.  But then he flipped the power switch and everything in the world changed.  First, two mechanical arms swung round and attached these warm, undulating sacs of gel onto my tits.  It was like I was being felt up by highly trained jellyfish.  Heavenly doesn’t begin to describe it. I was very quickly becoming a fan.  Next, two rollers began to make their way up the inside of my thighs and the small platforms my feet were on, opened up my legs to receive them.  This produced tingles that were off the scale (a promising start).  When they reached the holy land, things got really interesting.  The two rollers pushed in on my outer cunt lips like your grandmother squeezing your cheeks when you were a kid, only you certainly wouldn’t want your granny doing this. 

Kenny was staring intently at me, looking for any signs of pleasure.  I didn’t disappoint.  Those blessed rollers had lady juices running down my inner thighs and my tits felt like they were having mini-boobgasms.  Ken flipped another switch and the rollers pushed outwards, spreading my legs apart even further, like the wings of a Monarch butterfly.  I heard a buzzing noise and the vibrator on a stick made first contact with mound-zero.  I was afraid it was going to endeavor to barge right on in (You know how impatient sex-machines invented by men can be.), but it teased and mercilessly flirted with my pussy.  A few quick vibrations in exactly the right place and then it retreated.  This titillatingly torturous process was repeated until I was practically begging for penetration.  When the moment finally arrived and Mr. Buzz Buzz began to worm its way between my swollen vulva and up into my welcoming vaginal canal I almost asked it to marry me.  The in and out, up and down, vibra-tastic action of that naughty little faux cock had me moaning and sighing like a Romanian widow.  That’s when the magic happened.  Out of the hole in the chair I was sitting on, popped a second large lubricated dildo that proceeded to burrow into my ass.  The sensation was absolutely staggering.  It felt like I was being DP’d by a couple of well-hug robots.  Obscenities of a rather blasphemous nature may have been uttered.  I thought my clit was going to explode and kill us both.  The climax started to erupt inside me like the Pohutu Geyser.  I lifted my hand off the button, as instructed, which this comb to be dragged (it felt exactly like long, female fingernails) up my spine from the top of my ass crack to the base of my skull.  I almost passed out.  There was so much teeth-shattering orgasmic shit going on all over my body, my head started to spin.  Countless massive spasms and cum quivers turned me into human jackhammer. Ass. Tits. Cunt. Back. The multitudinous climactic fireworks roared and burst and thundered. I’m surprised my womb didn’t push a white flag out from between my legs and wave it around for mercy. Eventually, I fell face-first off the chair and lay on the ground twitching and drooling.

“Are you okay?” a worried voice above me inquired.

“Take off your pants,” I mumbled with a mouth full of his carpet.

“Why?”

“Because as soon as I’m able to move again, I’m going to suck that cock right of you body.”

It took another ten minutes or so, but I more than kept my promise.  That night I slept naked in his pudgy arms (although I did sneak off twice to use his incredible machine.).   

In the morning I gave his wiener another tour of my mouth, had a quick breakfast to wash his sperm down and headed back to the basement.  I’ve never been an addictive personality, but I now understand how someone can get totally hooked on something.  Even thinking about that second vibrator forcing its way into my ass gives me pre-cum shivers.  There needs to be a whole other word for the orgasms that miraculous machine produces.  You know, like they have separate words for hill and mountain!

            When the time came to return to the real world, it was with a heavy heart, a sore pussy and a tummy full of geek semen that I bid farewell to Kenny and my new best friend.  I promised to tell all my girlie pals about his glorious invention and now he barely sees his cock, because it’s continually buried down some sweet young thing’s throat. Me?  I was afraid that I would lose all interest in men if I didn’t make a clean break. Almost.  I allow myself one weekend a month ensconced his basement of unearthly delights and he has a standing order to throw me out come Monday (no matter how much I beg).

            I guess the moral of this story is “Never be afraid of Geeks bearing gifts.”

The End

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Copyright Lauren McAllister 2022

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