by Writing Shark
A Rough Morning
“Do you like it?”
“Yeah. You’re really good.” Sophie giggles as the tip of her nose glides over the shaft of your stiff penis.
“You smell so good Master” she whispers, her smile split by your cock, doubly beautiful.
“Take it in your mouth.”
“Thank you Master.”
“Fuck Sophie… you suck so good.” Her small mouth plunges over your lance, her lips gently sliding lower and lower on you. She’s actually built for sex, literally. You can’t tell any difference from the real deal, quite the opposite. Sophie sucks herself down on you with a devotion you haven’t experienced before, loving and demanding at the same time.
Your hand claws into her soft hair and holds her head tightly. She lets you guide her, gives herself to you and even if her body trembles slightly, she sucks your cock a little deeper inside her while you hold her hair out of her face.
Then her delicate lips slide upwards. You moan as you feel her tongue sliding up while your cock slides out of her mouth, wet and shiny. With a soft, feminine moan, her lips close over your tip and Sophie gives you a feather-light kiss. Then she opens her mouth and shows you the mixture of precum and spit she proudly swallows.
“Good girl,” you moan with satisfaction as she shows you her pink wet but now empty throat. “Now ride me.”
“Whatever my Master commands” she giggles and lifts her naked body onto your lap. You only see her in a blur, so horny are you for her tight hole that you immediately press against her groin.
A lustful moan escapes her throat as she lowers herself onto you.
Her vagina feels just like her mouth… and has a tongue. Cold.
Sophie opens her mouth and slurping sounds seep out.
You open your eyes.
“What?” Sophie has disappeared, and instead of her angelic face, you stare at the plain ceiling of your room. But the feeling on your cock is still there.
Startled, you sit up and rip the covers off your body.
“Fuck!”
You really didn’t have thought androids could cry. But that wasn’t the only thing you’ve been misjudging lately.
Sophie really sounds like a heartbroken girl, broken with all brutality. You hear her crying bitterly in your bedroom, sobbing and whimpering incomprehensible words of sorrow while you sit at the table, angry.
At first, you were angry at her. Taking advantage of you just like that. You don’t know her! Wasn’t she supposed to obey? Not simply taking advantage of you. But now you’re angry at yourself. Angry that you reacted so harshly. Angry that you stumbled out of the room so embarrassingly, dick bobbing and naked, unmanly. Angry that you’re being unmanly even though you don’t know exactly what that means in this situation. And you’re angry because you made a girl cry.
You tried to see her only as a robot, a collection of silicones, cables and metal, or what ever Sophie is made of. You tried to be angry at her and Trent. But you gave up that fight.
Then you put yourself in her shoes. At least, you tried. You tried to see her as a girl, but that didn’t really work. As much as your subconscious wants to, your head knows what she is.
But your head also knows enough about robotics to understand, to think you understand, what’s going on inside the sobbing girl. From a technological-biological standpoint, you know what she’s feeling. Her core programming has failed. Trent told you. Everything in her wants to be at your service. She loves you. Biologically, that’s not possible. But technically it is. You’re the center of her being. And you are angry with her. For her, it must be like she has no meaning in life anymore. She is afraid. And she blames herself. To argue with you, the stupid boy who doesn’t know what he wants, doesn’t occur to her.
It’s no use. Try as you might, Sophie won’t be just a robot to you. But a girlfriend? Obviously, she wanted to have sex with you. And she loves you.
Can she help me with these problems?
You’re raising your head.
She’s the perfect girlfriend for me. If I let her. Am I the perfect boyfriend for her?
Sophie is learning from you, adapting to you. And you realize you didn’t make it easy for her.
Her eyes meet yours and under the tears, you still see the incredible hope that she is enough for you. But thanks to you there is now also fear of doing something wrong. You take a deep breath, then step into your bedroom.
Sophie sits up on the bed, opens her mouth, but cannot speak.
It’s up to you. You understand that now.
“Do you know where my clothes are stashed yet?” It’s encouraging to see the girl – you’ve already given up calling her a robot – looking around the room with puffy eyes.
“Sixty-eight percent chance for being in the closet Master.” You smile.
“Yes. Will you get me some pants and a shirt, please? I don’t like… talking to you… naked.” Sophie literally falls from the bed to the closet, yanks it open and rummages around in it with animalistic panic.
“Here, Master!” She hands you a pair of sweatpants and a loose shirt, just the way you like it in the morning.
“Thanks.” You take the clothes and get dressed. You notice Sophie’s stares at your back but when you turn around she lowers her eyes. “You did a good job” you smile. The small compliment fills Sophie with new life and she smiles, clumsily wiping the tears from her face with her hand. Just like a girl would do.
“Thank you Master. I live to serve you.” You want to argue, but know that this will make her tear up again.
Maybe later? Oh God please let this work later…
You take her by the hand, wincing a little under the inhuman cold, and lead her to your bed. It’s so hard to not feel the cold. Maybe that is why you can’t decide given the fact that she looks so real to you. But Sophie looks at you uncertainly while you sit down on the edge of the bed and pull her next to you. She is still wearing yesterday’s clothes, but you can worry about that later. Sophie wants to say something, but like you, she doesn’t know how to get it out of her mouth.
It’s up to you.
Writing Shark 