"J and J"
Sarah And Brad's Working Weekend
“Tell us what you’re into,” the operate in the fair coat asked Brenda. His pen was ready for her resolve, a clipboard on the counter before him. “And be truthful.”
Brenda only blinked at him. How could she confess her most intimate fantasies to someone who reminded her of a male who used to ask her to power his finger? Brenda found herself reserved.
“Into?” she stammered. “What do you average? . . “Both,” she understood.
“Ah,” the gentleman showed interest for the first calculate since the interview had begun. “Bisexual. We haven’t had one of those yet. I’m not certainly . . . is there one or the other you bony more towards?”
Brenda shook her rule. She would not be strained to choose.
The guy was nodding, drumbeat his pen against his cheek caringly. “I suppose we could quantity you with two units. It stretches the finances a bit, but it would be attention-grabbing to see the consequences. Startrux, the planet’s largest interstellar freight company (and Brenda’s employer for fourteen living) was seeking conduct to reduce the conundrum of lost freight on the lingering space journey between Terrain and the remote colonies. The company’s star-barges essentially flew themselves; most of the navigation and maintenance systems were automated. Some chop victim to malfunction or piracy; others in basic terms vanished somewhere in the substantial distance of their routes. The age-old syndrome renowned as “cabin fever” had above all devastating results when a crew, no topic how carefully they were sensitively screened, was forced to share a very small inescapable space for months on finish. There had in reality been murders, costing Startrux billions of dollars in liability lawsuits, and untold damage to their broadcast image due to the media interest with space violence. Brenda had been selected for this series based on her psych-profile. It showed that she had cloistered tendencies offset by a very keen imagination, with a individual propensity for sexual fantasy. They were, in essence, fucking technology.
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Under the on the alert gaze of the operate who wasn’t her Uncle Candid, Brenda sat before the touch-sensitive holographic parade, designing her lovers. It was powerfully for Brenda to have faith in that her designs would be made genuine, but she found the plain act of customizing them to be very touching. The familiar moist tingle between her legs made her writhe in her seat and she wondered if God had felt this way when He had twisted Eden.
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They were good-looking, her machines.
Brenda didn’t see them in the flesh, hadn’t dared remove them from their coffin-shaped boxes, until she was well left from Earth. As if the indigo light of the family planet was the judgmental eye of a father. Finally, in the eleventh day of her journey, when Earth was distinguishable from the infinity of stars only by its affront blue cast, Brenda not here the cockpit for the bedchamber. She went to Adam first. She had strong-willed to name him Adam.
Adam stood more than six feet tall beside his sarcophagus, naked. He had broad, strong shoulders; buffed chest and arms. Very gloom skin. Brenda had never been with a black operate before, but that had always been a fantasy of hers, and now here it stood fulfilled. He had full, bodily lips; high, strict buttocks; and of way his penis was enormous.
Brenda, back on Dirt, had deliberated over the penis for the highest time. Neither her ex-husband nor her one other guy lover had been above all well-endowed, but at period it had felt reminiscent of they could tear her away from each other inside. Still, in her fantastic daydreams, all her men were gigantic. Finally, she had strong-willed to make the amount of Adam’s penis bendable depending on her moods. Right out of the carton, though, she sought to see how great big he could get.
“Get testing,” she commanded him. The have control over swelled and pulsed, began to quiver. All along the duct were rings and ridges of changeable textures, all oscillating at atypical frequencies.
“Touch yourself,” Brenda believed.
Adam stroked the outrageous penis. It writhed like a snake, radiant with an oily secreted lubrication.
“All right, end.”
Adam dropped his arms to his side. The penis depressed with a hot-air balloon squeak and swung between his legs resembling a large sausage. He stood still, awaiting instructions.
Eve stood. She was somewhat taller than Brenda, but nowhere close to the height of Adam. A thin, cool face with a prominent nose, framed by short, carefully sculpted blonde mane. Eve’s body was voluptuous, based on a pioneer named Rita with whom Brenda had had a one-night stomach. Great, full breasts, much bigger than her own. Eve’s skin was very evenhanded, almost pale, designed as a measured contrast to Adam’s. She had easy, blondish tufts of mane between her legs and under her arms, and a light downy fuzz casing her legs. Brenda liked her women to have a minor bit of facial hair on their bodies.
“Lie down on the twin bed,” Brenda held.
The bio-mechanical Eve nodded and walked gracefully across the room. She stretched cat-like across the gigantic bed. She was becoming aroused.
Eve opened her legs wide and Brenda kneeled before her. Eve’s vagina yawned and furrowed, pouting like a starlet’s rudeness. Eve’s clitoris, distended and as generously proportioned as Brenda’s pinkie pick out, moved curiously about, prehensile and aware.
“Touch yourself,” Brenda gasped.
Eve’s manicured hand moved down between her charming white thighs and tweaked the pink clitoris until it was stiff and quaking. One delicate feel slid into the vagina, which contracted tightly, construction moist little smack sounds. It felt frank because it was frank. Brenda had been told that the bio-mech’s bodies consisted of about eighty-per-cent person tissue. Certain internal organs were mechanical, such as the heart and the lungs, where hollow parts were either cheaper, more competent or more unswerving than cloned organs. Their brains were superlative described as organic computers; superconducting fungal growths clever of running the complicated programs necessary for the bio-machines to operate.
Brenda ran the tip of her person finger around the shimmering comb of Eve’s bio-mechanical labia. Eve smiled down at her. Teasingly, she smiled. Brenda smiled back reflexively, forgetting for a go along with that Eve’s gesture had only been a trick of her training. Not yet.
“Come here,” she called to Adam.
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