Peter Priper Ch 14

My name is Peter, and I am probably not a sex robot. I can distinctly remember not being a sex robot. I had kids, a job which was only about 85% unpleasant, a house, a car. Granted, the website does say "Every FuckBuddy[TM] comes with its own unique backstory!" And the website did have a picture of me on it, shirtless, with SOLD! blazoned across it. And Trudy did have the receipt, as well as several increasingly angry letters from the Gataberuto Robotics Corporation about unpaid installments. And there were the emails back and forth between Retta (my legal owner) and Gataberuto Robotics, e.g.,

Dear Ms. Bergson,

We are very sorry to hear that you have been unable to reset your FuckBuddy[TM]'s personality parameters to the factory defaults. The inability to reset personality parameters is a known issue with your model. For this reason we advise against letting your friends turn your FuckBuddy[TM]'s snarkiness level up to 100.

Don't forget that your FuckBuddy[TM] has an organic-based metabolism! Be sure to give him healthful food and regular exercise.

After that email Retta started taking me for a run every morning. It was pleasant. I only slightly felt like a pet dog.

I was skyping with my kids one night-I've been telling them that I'm working overseas for a few months-and afterward I went back to the laptop and checked the history. No call history on Skype. The browser did show that someone had watched a YouTube video of two kids the same age as mine for half an hour.

That was weird.

Still, pretty sure I'm not a sex robot.

There are certain disadvantages to having everyone think you're a sex robot. The girls voted I would do the laundry, for instance. Hence once a week I lug three huge bags of smelly clothes and sticky sheets down to the laundromat.

There are, however, certain advantages to having everyone think you're a sex robot. Girls watch you go by, and they wonder what kind of orgasms you can get from a nine-hundred-thousand-euro sex toy. (The rumour mill exaggerated my price a little.) The Hearts just give me wistful looks, because they have a strict rule about taking other people's toys. But luckily for me, Diamonds and Clubs don't. Hence once a week I load three huge bags of smelly clothes and sticky sheets into the washers, and then I go into the back room with Sookie, who owns the laundromat.

Her husband caught us once. He was furious. Until she explained who I was. Then he pulled up a chair and watched. And took notes.

Other days I do the grocery shopping, and on the way to the market I check to see if the café by the fountain is busy, because if it isn't then Amelie can go on break. She likes a finger up her ass while I fuck her. And if the café is busy I'll go over to the sushi place and see if Asami is working. She always makes the same bad joke about how she has a very special salmon roll for me. At least once a week I try to make it down to the stationery shop. I have no use for stationery, but the cashier is up for practically anything.

It's not like I'm that great in bed. It's the same as when you eat in a gourmet restaurant and before they let you touch your steak they tell you what kind of cow it comes from and what the cow ate, and how the sauce was discovered by Louis XIV's private alchemist and was such a closely guarded secret that the last chef to know it literally took it to the grave, and grave robbers had to dig him up and pry his cookbook from his moldy fingerbones. And they haven't even gotten to your sides yet.

The point is, by the time they're done novelizing your steak, it's cold, but you are still going to think that it's the best steak you ate in your life. And likewise, when you think you're doing the million-dollar-man, you are going to have an orgasm to write home about.

So after I finish making my rounds and I get to the market, I lug the groceries back to the toadstool. Where there is invariably something weird going on. There was the time all I heard was "TRUDY MULHEIMER, TRAPEZE ARTIST!" before she slammed into me. There was the time they convinced Retta to pee while standing on her head. And there was the time Millie and Violet decided to recreate their first date.

Violet was blindfolded in the yard, completely naked, her arms handcuffed behind her back. Millie stood next to her, in a chemise and tight shorts, holding on to the handcuffs.

"Who is it?" Violet was breathing hard, scared.

"Quit asking," said Millie. "I'm not going to tell you." To me, she made a zip-it gesture across her mouth. "Come on over, have a feel. You can grope her all you want."

I put down the bags and went over. I fondled Violet's breasts. She was trembling. There was dried come all over her face. I ran a hand down to her crotch. Her pussy was very wet. I pushed a finger in, and she gasped.

"Tell him what happened to her face," said Millie.

"I'm not telling him," said Violet.

Millie suddenly spanked her. Violet gasped. "Okay. She told this boy he could grope me, but nothing else."

"And since you were blindfolded..." said Millie.

"I didn't know he was beating off." Violet swallowed. "He came on my face. Can you please clean it off?"

Millie spanked her again. "It's dried on good now. By the way, it's in your hair, too. You might as well have a sign on your head that says, I'm a slut with no self-respect. Get on your knees and suck his dick," said Millie.

"I don't even know who-"

"Get on your knees."

"No! I told you I'm not doing that."

Millie grabbed her and dragged her over to the picnic table. She moved off several bags of takeout-they'd been having fun with the delivery boys again, it seemed. I heard two Uber drivers once got in a fistfight over who would come to our door. Millie undid Violet's handcuffs and forced her face down onto the table. "Spread your legs."

"Millie, please!" Violet pleaded.

"Spread your fucking legs."

Violet did. Her pussy was literally dripping down her thighs.

"I'm going to flip a coin," said Millie. "Heads, you give him a blowjob. Tails, he fucks you."

"Don't do this, please," said Violet. "Let me go. This is going too far."

"Oh, quit whining."

"You said they were only going to touch me. You didn't say people were going to fuck me!"

"Like your pussy is some sacred temple. You've got some guy's come on your face!" She bent down next to Violet's face. "Whose come is on your face? Who jerked off on your face?"

"I don't know."

"What?"

"I don't know his name. I never saw his face."

"Yeah, you've got a stranger's come all over your face, you fucking tramp. You are the definition of a cum dumpster. I'm flipping the coin."

"Please be heads," Violet murmured.

Millie flipped a quarter. It came up heads. "Tails."

"No, please, no!"

Millie nodded to me. I pushed a finger into Violet's soaking pussy.

Violet was shaking again. "Millie, at least tell me his name. Just tell me who it is!"

"I would," said Millie, "but I don't know. I just saw him coming down the road and waved him over here. All you need to know is, he's got a scary big cock."

Violet spasmed as I pushed into her. She gasped.

"Does it hurt?" said Millie. "Because whatsisname doesn't look like the type to be gentle."

I fucked her slowly. Violet was panting. Millie had her phone out, telling Violet, "I'm filming this, you know," and Violet squirmed and gasped as I reamed her, and Millie said, "I can't believe you're getting off on this! What is wrong with you?"

Millie motioned to me to go harder. I rammed Violet as hard as I could. She moaned. Millie leaned over her and whispered, "Filthy. Little. Degenerate. Slut. Whatsisname is going to jizz inside you." Violet squealed as she came.

Oh, yeah. There's nothing better after a long day than coming home to a nice hot cup of vagina.

I pulled out of her. Violet sat up. Millie put down the phone, embraced her, and kissed her on the lips.

Violet pushed a finger inside herself and drew it out. "Oh, God, he did come inside me, didn't he?"

"Told you," said Millie. "Cum dumpster."

Violet sat there on the table, idly toying with a bit of my come. "Let me lick your pussy, honey."

"You know anyone could be watching you," said Millie.

"I don't care."

"Anyone at all."

"Please. Let me lick you."

"Exhibitionist pervert," said Millie, and pulled off her shorts.

Well, I figured, if they're eating each other they won't be needing all that takeout, and I grabbed it on my way upstairs.

Not that I got to finish dinner. The two of them came up about ten minutes later. Violet was looking at the phone. "It's definitely Peter's cock."

"I think he said his name was Clarence," said Millie. "Go wash your face. You're disgusting."

"Oh, I know," Violet said, grinning.

"Peter!" Millie snapped her fingers at me. "Bedroom."

I fucked Millie from behind while she and Violet watched videos of strangers' hands groping Violet's naked body. And as soon as Millie came, she slid off of me and laid on the bed with Violet. They kissed.

"You're a twisted whore," said Millie.

"You love it," said Violet.

"Hey, Millie," I said, "I was just a couple minutes from getting off."

"Yeah, you know I love you," said Millie. "I love your filthy little cunt."

"I love you too, you demented bitch." The girls kissed again.

"Seriously," I said. "Two minutes, and then you can get back to whispering evil nothings to each other."

Millie groaned. "Violet, suck him off or he'll never shut up."

"Why me?"

"Are you a depraved whore or not?"

"Even whores get tired." But Violet motioned for me to stand up, and then knelt in front of me. She only ever gave blowjobs on her knees, I guess because it seemed sluttier.

I doubt I even lasted two minutes. She swallowed, looked up at me batting her blue eyes, and said, "Was it good?"

"Yeah. It was great."

"You want to bring the food in here? On trays, so we can eat in bed?"

"Um, sure, yeah."

"Also," said Millie, "open up the bottle of rosé in the fridge?"

"Sure," I said.

"And get me the Bragg's," said Violet. "I like it better than that packaged soy sauce."

"Bring that table over here and set up the laptop on it, so we can watch TV."

"The charger's in the living room, I think."

"And fluff the pillows. They are positively flaccid."

"Do the pillows first."

"The spring rolls will probably need about thirty seconds in the microwave. And I need a footrub."

"Ooh, me too."

"So once we have the food and everything, two sets of footrubs."

I heard someone coming up the stairs. "Just a sec," I said.

"Hey!" Violet called. "First my pillows!"

Retta, my girlfriend and/or legal owner, came up the stairs and collapsed on the couch. Her pussy peeked out from under her miniskirt.

"I'm so tired," she moaned. "Frank said if I don't start showing up to the mandatory meetings they're going to bust me down to a Ten. So I went. And they are so boring. They just go on and on, people talking and talking, and you have to pretend you're listening the whole time."

"One of these days," I said, "you are going to have an actual job and you are going to hate it." I bent over and kissed her. "What are those meetings about, anyway?"

"I don't know. I was only pretending to listen." I tried to get up, but she held onto my arm. "Eat me out, baby? I so need to get off."

"Any time," I said. I really didn't need an excuse not to make Millie and Violet dinner. I knelt down in front of her and started kissing her thighs.

"Mmm," she said. "That's good." I licked at her. Retta had a lovely pussy. Very tasty.

And with a bfffpppt, she let out a fart. That was not tasty.

"Sorry," she said. "I had a burrito for lunch and I'm a little gassy. Keep on with what you were doing. I need your tongue so bad right now."

"Okay, sweetie." I traced circles around her clitoris.

Pbbbbbt. "Sorry."

I sat up. "I'll just let the air clear-"

"No." She grabbed my head and pushed it between her legs. "Don't stop. Don't stop. Oh, yes, that's perfect. Right like that."

Bbbrrrrrrrrrfffppppfffppptbbbbbbbt. "Sorry. That's the last one, I promise."

Brfpt. "Okay, that was the last one."

"What's the holdup?" came Millie's voice.

"My pillows are still limp!" yelled Violet.

Yep. Life of a sex robot.

*

I got up in the middle of the night to piss. Abigail was sitting outside. She slept all day and only went outside at night, which was presumably how she maintained her corpselike complexion.

She was on the phone.

"First thing I need is, six helicopters."

"No, troop helicopters. They don't need antitank missiles. Or, let's say one with antitank missiles and six for troops."

"Fine, if you want me to just concede air superiority to the enemy, go right ahead, Dad. Then I need armoured personal carriers."

"I can't surround the palace with less than six."

"So how am I supposed to get my soldiers into battle?"

"They are not bringing their own cars."

"Walk? When ever in history has an invading army walked?"

"You do not need to use that tone of voice just because I didn't immediately think of 'Napoleon'. And my army is not walking."

"Because it's 2018."

"Fine. One armoured personal carrier. If that's all you're willing to give your only daughter, fine. Thank you."

"Yes. I have a list. Second thing I need is, some soldiers to go in my armoured personnel carrier."

"Hello?"

"Hello?"

She dropped the phone in her lap. "My dad is such a jerk."

"Still planning on liberating the island?"

Abigail sighed. "The revolution has been downsized."

"Who is your dad, anyway?" I asked. "And why does he have armoured personnel carriers?"

"He's Karl Johansson."

I shrugged. "Any relation to Scarlett?"

"Generalissimo Johansson?" she said. "The military dictator of Sweden? You seriously never heard of him?"

"Um," I said, "Sweden is not a military dictatorship."

"That's what the lamestream media wants you to think." She started undoing her shorts. "All the socialist countries are military dictatorships: Cuba, Sweden, Canada, Vermont—"

"Vermont isn't a country."

She snorted. "Vermont has been ruled by Colonel Sanders for like twenty years. And I should know, because I got dragged to his Hanukkah party every year since I was six."

"Good chicken, at least?"

"What?" She stared at me like she had no idea what I was talking about. "Anyway, I need a jill for some stress relief." She stepped out of her shorts.

"Have fun. I'm going back to bed."

"No, you need to come over here and lick me out."

"You just said you were jilling."

"Assisted jilling, whatever. Come here."

"I am really tired, Abby. And apparently I'm getting up early tomorrow to bring everyone breakfast in bed."

"It's Raven, and this will only take a minute."

"You like edging. It will take an hour."

"Come on, Peter."

I sighed, and got down in front of her. I started kissing her feet and moving up her legs to her pussy.

She put headphones on.

"Hey, what are you doing?"

"I want to listen to music."

And so I knelt in the dewy grass, in the middle of the night, licking at Abigail/Raven's pussy, listening to the crickets and the occasional sound of her humming along with her music. And every time she was about to come she pushed my head away.

After maybe twenty minutes my tongue was aching. It was actually sore. I did not know your tongue could get sore. I suppose I wasn't doing a very good job anymore, because Abigail/Raven got up, sat me down in the chair, and eased her wet pussy over my cock. She had her back to me. She was staring at her phone.

"Raven, are you watching porn?"

She didn't answer.

She rode me until we were both about to come, and then she stopped, and just sat there with me inside her. After a minute she started moving again. I leaned forward and looked over her shoulder. She wasn't watching porn. It appeared to be a scene from Interview with the Vampire.

They were not the best circumstances for getting off, especially given that she was trying so hard not to. My balls ached. I started fantasizing about Genie, imagining it was her in my lap, and every time Abigail/Raven stopped, those green eyes twinkling as Genie grinned and said, "Not yet."

I must have mumbled her name three times or something, because there was a thump on the lawn. I opened my eyes and there she was, in her little ninja outfit. She had a bullwhip this time. She cracked it, and Abigail/Raven looked up and took off her headphones.

"If I don't get him, neither do you," said Genie. She lashed the whip at Raven and it wrapped around her. Raven squealed with pain. Genie yanked and pulled Raven off me.

I jumped up, the end of my cock bobbing up and down. I thought I heard voices from the toadstool. "We have to get out of here!" I hissed. I grabbed Genie's hand and we ran into the woods, leaving Abigail/Raven struggling to untangle herself from the whip.

I took her to the clearing where I'd first fucked Raven. There were still a few guttered candles on the ground. I tried to wipe Raven's twat juices off my mouth, but Genie didn't complain about the taste when she kissed me. I pulled her down onto the grass with me.

"I've been dreaming about you," I said, untying her top. "Finally, no one to bother us."

"Yes," she said. "No one to interrupt us or stop us. We are definitely doing it this time." She sounded rather less excited about it than I would have hoped.

"Tell me what you want me to do," I said.

"This is good. This is nice. I mean, not just nice, it's positively, um-" I kissed her mostly to shut her up.

I ran my hands over her and kissed her neck-maybe she didn't like how my lips tasted and didn't want to complain. She was very tense. I rubbed the outside of her pussy-it got moist, and I pushed a finger along her lips. But she didn't seem ready for me to push one in. She rubbed my back with one hand, and with the other stroked my cock in a desultory sort of way.

"Do you want to take me to the dungeon?" I asked. "Tie me up, whip me, clothespin my nipples?"

She smiled nervously. "Is that what you like?"

"If you like it, I'm perfectly fine with it. Provided I get to give you a good hard fucking afterward."

"I'm actually not that into the dominatrix thing," she mumbled. "It's more an expectation when you're Queen. There are a lot of expectations when you're Queen."

"I'll eat you out. My tongue is pretty tired, though. I had a busy day."

"No, no," she said. "You don't have to do that. It's not like it's the only way I can relax. I'm the Queen of Hearts-I have amazing sex five, sometimes six times a day."

"I'll eat you out," I said. Maybe I was being impatient. I was pretty desperate to get off, though. My boner hurt and my balls ached. An hour of edging will do that.

"Okay, I mean if you want to, you don't have to, but if you don't mind it is nice, so you can do that Oh God I'm blathering again nobody likes blathering during sex."

I could feel her drying up under my fingers. "It's fine, Genie."

She suddenly sat up. "It's just fine, only fine, no better than fine. I think I hear someone coming."

"I don't hear anything."

"No, there's someone coming. I have to go." She scrambled away from me. "Ninja vanish!" and in a puff of smoke she was gone.

I lay down on the grass. "What just happened?" I said out loud. I thought about the smell of her, and the feel of her legs, and those green eyes, and jerked off into the grass. Afterward I lay there and tried to figure out what I had done wrong.

"Your reign of terror is over!" shouted Raven as she dove into the clearing. She stood up, fans bared, in full ninja regalia. "Aw." She put down her fans and slumped. "Did I miss her?