Sex Machine (Book 7 of "Alison's Erotic Adventures")

By K.C. Cave

Alison's reputation as a sexual athlete catches up to her—science wants to model her libido for a high-tech sex robot! Her GF, Moriah is next—except for one problem: She's a virgin. The computer model requires P.I.V. experience with at least 4 men. So Alison arranges for GF to be the main attraction at a bachelor's party.

~~~~~ PG Excerpt ~~~~~

The customer, in a gray three-piece suit that screamed lawyer, sat opposite the desk as Tommy sank back in his office chair. The guy had picked up his Mercedes the week before. A problem with the front-end job?

Nope. It was about a visit to a crummy east-side bar two years ago. Tommy had set up a gang bang for Alison, his long-time sex buddy. And played traffic cop to make sure the it ran smoothly as seven lucky guys took turns in a back room.

“You probably don’t remember me, but I remember you,” the guy said to Tommy over the blast of pneumatic wrenches. “You ran interference for a young lady who, uh, was entertaining some men on a busted pool table.”

“You a cop?”

“No, one of the customers, although I guess that’s not the right word, since she was free. Highly remarkable, considering how beautiful she was.”

“It might’ve been me.”

“I’m looking for that young lady,” he said and leaned forward. “This is going to sound fantastical, but it’s about an investment. Long story, so I’ll cut to the chase. After you and the young lady left, all seven of us lucky males who had enjoyed her services sat at the bar. We all agreed. She was absolutely, bar-none, the best any of us had ever had.”

“I’ll pass the compliment along.”

“Even Mike, the black guy who gets more high quality sex in a week than most of us get in a year, said she was extraordinary.”

“So?”

“I’m working with a scientific concern that’s developing a sex surrogate using robotics and virtual reality. Know what a sex surrogate is?”

“A woman who has sex for therapeutic reasons, I think. Help guys who can’t get off.”

“That’s right. I’m heading up a venture capital group to get this thing on solid financial footing. The goal is to fully automate a female sexual surrogate using robotics, micro sensors, body imaging and, most importantly, virtual reality. This isn’t going to be a cheap, inflatable sex doll. Or a high-quality silicone corpse that looks great, but just lays there. Using vision goggles, tactile simulators, sound, aroma, and, yes, direct genital stimulation, it’s a system that will respond and even initiate sex with a man. There’s a huge need.”

“That many men can’t get their rocks off?”

“It’s amazing the number of sexually dysfunctional males who need skilled therapy for problems like anxiety, body-image issues and premature ejaculation. Yet skilled, legitimate sex surrogates are scarce. It is, to put it mildly, a niche occupation that’s easily confused with prostitution.”

“Because it is prostitution, right?”

“No, it’s not. Sexual services for pay in a therapeutic situation are not illegal.”

“Dude, I strongly suspect—hell, I know—a lot of hookers who say their work is highly therapeutic.”

The guy held a hand up. “No argument. Regardless, a fully functional sex robot can fill that void. Our team is about ninety-five percent of the way there, but we’ve hit a snag.”

“Something that Alison can fix?”

“So that’s her name. Yeah, Alison can fill a void. We need to profile a fully sexually responsive woman for our computer models.”

“Profile? What’s that involve?”

“Basically, touching herself while hooked up to a bunch of probes and sensors.... In a room lighted with overhead fluorescents and geeks running around with clipboards.”

“In the nude?”

“Of course. It’s a scenario that shuts down the sexual responsiveness of most women...but that's what we need.”

Tommy looked up for the first time. “Alison’s your girl.”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Boruma Publishing, LLC
• Release date: Nov 15, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370288519

K.C. Cave

K.C. Cave writes about sex and love . . . but mostly sex. Go to http://www.kccaveerotica.com to learn more and get free stuff.

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Sex Machine

Book 7 of Alison’s Erotic Adventures

By K.C. Cave

Artwork by Moira Nelligar

Text copyright 2016 K.C. Cave

License Notes

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite e-book retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places or events are entirely coincidental. This e-book includes descriptions of explicit sex and is for adults only. The stories in this e-book are completely fictional and are meant to be taken as fantasy. The author does not endorse or condone practices like incest, rape, or rough sexual encounters in any form. All characters depicted in these stories are 18 years old and above.

Alison grunted as she lifted Moriah, nude and still asleep, off the bed and backed out the door to the stairs. Christ, she’d sleep through an earthquake, Alison thought. She put her down, and Moriah slumped against her, arms instinctively wrapping around the taller woman’s neck and her head nestling between her breasts. Moriah was just awake enough not to fall over. Alison took one of her old T-shirts—bubblegum pink, with Nobody knows I’m a lesbian in bright red letters across the back—and pulled it over Moriah’s head. About three sizes too big, it came almost to her knees.

Fuck, what time is it?

Almost four-thirty.

At least let me brush my teeth.

Instead, Alison hustled her to the car. It was like a jungle: nearly eighty already and the humidity probably higher. Alison had started the SUV and cranked on the air before rousing Moriah.

It’s come to this, Moriah muttered, scrunched against the door in the passenger seat as Alison punched the accelerator. No coffee. No breakfast. My underarms stink. You’re going to slit my throat and dump my body without any ID. I’ll be a missing person, buried in a pauper’s grave.

Alison pulled over, threw it into park and reached for her. Limp, sleepy, vulnerable, Moriah was oh-so pliable. She was soft around the edges, even while slightly pissed-off, in the pre-dawn quietness. Alison kissed her, long and deep. Guiding two of Moriah’s fingers to her mouth, Alison tongued and kissed them, a thread of spit dangling as she pushed the wet fingers between the younger woman’s legs.

Start masturbating now, Alison ordered, putting the car back in gear. "Get your pussy warmed up. The faster you come,