Touched

Episode One: When Howie Met Cinda

Part 1

Early one Monday afternoon, Dexter Spielmann, the new manager of MicroHard's outlet on Ganymede, set the store controls for

Welcome Customers

so that he'd be alerted if anyone entered the sales room. He then stepped into the dark storage area, closing the door behind him.

"Cinda?" he asked quietly.

"Right here where you left me, Honeybunch-Loverboy," she cooed as the lights came on.

"You know you can't call me that," Spielmann cautioned with a frostiness he didn't really feel.

"Would you prefer 'Cutie-Cock'?" she asked, tilting her head coquettishly and clasping her arms behind her back to show off her delightful breasts, then pursed her lips. "Or how about 'Big Mr. Girl Pleaser'? Or wait, wait - what about 'My Gigantic Gash-Gagging Goo Gusher'?"

"You're going to get us both in trouble." He tried to scowl, but the corners of his mouth kept sneaking up into an insuppressible little smile. "If you..."

"Where have you been, anyway, Lover-Lips?" she interrupted, stepping forward and taking hold of his arm to draw him to her.

"Don't call me 'Lover-Lips'," he continued with all the severity he could manage. "And don't interr..."

"What do you expect?" she broke in again with a hint of disapproval. "I haven't seen you in almost 4 hours. You're my very first boyfriend. And I'm beginning to suspect you must have found yourself a new girl."

"Not likely," Spielmann snorted. "Especially not here, the place where Hell actually

did

freeze over." His last assignment had been to the company's flagship store in Mumbai, and the climate of Jupiter's Galilean moons frightened him a little.

He held her at arm's length and a faint sadness crept into his smile. "You know that I'm not really your boyfriend, and that I can't be, though I sure wish I could," he said. "And you know that I've got to call your real boyfriend to let him know we've arrived at Ganymede. And you and I both know that he'll be over here pretty damn quick to check you out."

Lucinda shivered with excitement.

The lump in Spielmann's pants grew noticeably larger as he inspected her carefully.

She's just flat-out gorgeous

, he thought.

As pretty and as sexy as anything I've ever seen, even in the holo-porn vids.

She had long legs and small, but perfectly round breasts, green eyes and long, flame-red hair with more body than a weightlifter. She had on spike-heeled shoes and a low-cut, tight, green dress with a hemline just this side of pornographic. Her puffy, bee-stung lips glistened with bright pink lipstick and she wore lavender eye shadow and a sultry expression that made Spielmann's stiff cock throb and twitch.

"But, before I call, I think one last test procedure is in order," he murmured, sliding his arms around her and allowing her to press those wonderful tits against his chest. "Just because we at MicroHard are so fiercely dedicated to ensuring customer satisfaction."

His hand reached under the back of her dress and into her panties. As their lips met, Lucinda ground her hard clit against his thigh. His finger found her hot, puckered, little anus and she groaned in agonized pleasure. She deftly lowered his fly and began to massage his rock-hard cock while he teased her rigid nipple with the fingers of one hand and poked gently at her hungry asshole with the other.

"Just remember that these testing procedures are strictly proprietary and totally subject to your project integrity guidelines," he whispered in her ear. "That means you can't tell anyone."

"Oh, shut up and shove it into me," she whispered back.

"Can't do that quite yet," he sighed.

"O'Brien," he shouted in the general direction of the adjoining workshop.

She tried to slide down to her knees so she could take him into her mouth, but he held her tightly to prevent it.

"O'Brien," he screamed impatiently. "Get in here… now! And bring the testing protocol with you."

She undid his belt and his pants floated slowly to his ankles in the light Ganymedian gravity. She was yanking hard on his boner now, kissing his neck and nibbling on his earlobe.

"We don't have to wait for him," she rasped with an undertone of urgency. "We know the test procedures by now. I do anyway." She stepped out of her panties with her left leg, leaving them dangling from her right thigh. "I even know the extended, in-depth, comprehensive, six-month performance evaluation process. And it's almost time for it. We could do it a little early. And O'Brien's probably just playing holo-games or watching holo-porn or reading dirty stories and whacking off, like usual."

She stood on her toes and bounced up and down, making repeated attempts to impale herself on his stiff prick. But he held her by the hips and kept her just far enough away. Still, once or twice she came so close that, to her immense frustration, her wet pussy lips wound up slithering the length of his cock.

"Cripes," she hissed. "It's not fair to get a girl all excited and then not take care of her. If a gentleman tells a lady he's going to fuck her, he at least ought to have the courtesy and common decency to do it. Anything else would be really rude."

Spielmann squeezed his eyes shut and leaned his head back. Desperation and anger now mixed in equal measure in his voice. "Hal?..... Hal?" he bellowed. "Where the fuck are..." He opened his eyes and saw O'Brien's lanky figure leaning against the doorjamb. "...you, Hal," he finished, his tone chilled to quiet fury.

"Maybe, just this once, I could conduct the testing?" Hal grumbled. "You've tested her three times already in the 24 hours since the two of you arrived. And I bet you tested her pretty damn thoroughly on the way out from Earth, too." He addressed his manager, but his eyes were glued to Lucinda.

"Besides," he added, "I'm the technician here, and this is a technical procedure. You're just a glorified salesman."

"Geeze, Hal," Spielmann replied, "Don't you care about the integrity of the testing process? Each evaluation has to be conducted under exactly the same conditions for the results to be comparable and valid." As he spoke, he nudged Lucinda slowly and gently backward. "I did the previous tests, so I have to do this one too, or the accuracy of the data will be seriously compromised."

He interrupted his monologue for a few seconds of passionate kissing, then continued. "We have to set aside personal desires and think only about product quality," he concluded.

He now had Lucinda pinned against the rear wall of the little storeroom. They kissed some more, writhing and grabbing wantonly at each other. She spread her legs eagerly.

An obscene bulge had developed behind the zipper of O'Brien's pants. "Whatever," he droned resentfully as he snapped open his electronic notebook. "I'm receiving transmitted data."

Spielmann pressed the tip of his hard prick against the opening of her hot cunt. She groaned in anticipation as her juices began to drool thickly down his shaft.

"So ask the damn questions," Spielmann ordered.

"Please, if I have to stand here and watch, at least don't make me ask the questions," Hal begged. "If I ask the questions, I have to listen to the answers, and that makes watching even worse."

Lucinda tried to force her dripping snatch down onto Spielmann's boner, but he stymied her attempts by backing off a little, so that his bloated tip just slid back and forth between her swollen pussy lips and brushed repeatedly against her rigid clit.

"Why do we have to wait for the stupid questions?" she whined in frustration.

"It has to be a legitimate test process, or I could get my ass fired for doing this," he answered apologetically.

"Ask the fucking questions, or pack your fucking bags for Pluto," he barked at O'Brien.

Hal O'Brien gawked at Lucinda. Watching a drop-dead adorable tramp like her struggling to get fucked had to be the most provocative thing he had ever seen. He fought the urge to put down the notebook and stick his hand into his pants.

He took a deep breath. He tried to look away, but couldn't.

"Ease of access?" he finally asked between clenched teeth.

"Wide open and begging to be stuffed," the manager answered softly and quickly.

"Maybe multiple testers would be a good thing," Lucinda moaned, making eye contact with the technician over Spielmann's shoulder. "You know, to sort of double-check and see if each one would confirm the other's findings."

Spielmann ignored her suggestion and began to slowly push his steel-stiff prick into her cock-hungry cunt. Their quiet pleasure-grunts crooned harmonically with each millimeter of progress, teasing O'Brien cruelly.

"Tightness?" Hal mumbled. He had to bite his lip - hard - to keep from cumming. But with Lucinda's sultry stare making fantasy love to him, it was now even harder to look away.

"Uh..uh..Aaarrgh…umph," the manager answered at first.

"Yeah, well, you said the same thing last time," Hal muttered. "So I'll put that down as 'Consistent with previous test procedures'."

"Like a fucking velvet slut-vise," his boss eventually wheezed.

"Oh, SHUT UP," Hal pleaded.

"Or he could test my asshole," Lucinda gasped, just loud enough for Hal to hear. "It hasn't been tested in the longest time. I think it really needs it. Hal, Honey, Sweetheart, tell him… tell…" But she had become so overwhelmed with sexual excitement that she lost her train of thought, and her voice trailed off to a low, rhythmic moan.

Hal whimpered a little and imagined his throbbing boner forcing its way into Lucinda's tight anus.

"Goddamn lubrication?" he growled.

"Slippery …as hot …vaseline," Spielmann answered haltingly.

As Spielmann reached full insertion, Lucinda's eyes half closed with bliss and she made kissy-face at Hal, then slowly ran the tip of her pink tongue across her shiny lips.

Hal grimaced. Then he stiffened. His eyes rolled and his mouth gaped. The bulge behind his zipper jerked spastically as he pumped his pants full of steaming semen. Lucinda watched the large wet spot appear and spread quickly.

She smiled a proud little smile, then began to scream her ecstasy as the first orgasmic cascade shimmered through her pleasure circuits.

"Overall …credibility …of simulation?" O'Brien croaked bitterly.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the colony, Howie Ricardo, was fantasizing… again. In fact, he was watching porno vids on the desktop holo-display in his office at the Human Resources Department of the IT division of DuPimp's Ganymede mining operation, and he had been ever since he got back from lunch.

Most office space on Ganymede was pretty compact. But Howie's office was particularly cramped, a little more than two meters by three. Sitting at his desk, he was facing the closed door, which had a window allowing him to see who was going by in the corridor outside.

His big, rigid hard-on was sticking up through his open fly so he could stroke it with his left hand, out of sight below the desktop, while his right worked the clicker to control the vids he was watching. The holo-display could only be viewed from his side of the desk. From the door, it simply looked like a large, fuzzy gray rectangle.

He was in the middle of his very favorite vid, the one in which a dazzling blonde, big-eyed, puffy-lipped hooker slut in a tiny skirt, tight little tube top and ripped fishnets gets gangfucked by a group of muscular and handsome black guys in an alleyway back on Earth. Like most of its genre, it was highly interactive. For example, there could be anywhere from three to twelve men. Howie always chose the maximum.

The problem was he'd been particularly horny lately. As a result of his job, he had friends and connections at MicroHard, and when they began the secret Beta testing of their new Sweetheart 459 andro-companion, he was offered one at a very nominal price. He'd heard that she was incredibly hot, but it took months to ship her up from Earth, and in the meantime, he was one very lustful and edgy HR officer.

So, that Monday afternoon, as Dexter Spielmann fucked the capacitors out of Howie's android, Howie was beating off in his office and impatiently waiting for the call that she was ready to be picked up.

The testing was so secret, MicroHard hadn't even shown him a picture of her. All he really knew was that the company's nickname for the model was the "Cyber-Angel." So he was imagining that she would look pretty much like the holo-vid "actress" in the porn he was watching, except with little white wings.

The vid narrative starts out in a seedy bar in one of Earth's most decrepit slums. Howie has the girl flirt with the men, smiling, posing to show off her stunning figure and letting them buy her drinks. She dances with one of the brawny guys and quickly begins to kiss and grope with him. She dances with another, grinding her throbbing clit against his thigh while grasping his stiff cock through the thin fabric of his pants.

Howie has the men start passing her back and forth and pretty soon she's dancing and making out with two, three, even four at a time. A mob of strong hands swarm over her, touching and grasping at every inch of her lovely flesh, lifting up her little skirt and tight top, and pulling down her sheer panties. A horde of long, thick fingers probe and poke the most intimate parts of her body. She whimpers and trembles, grabs at the men's shirts and powerful arms, and makes no attempt to conceal the erotic fever raging through her.

Then Howie lets the program run on its own and sits back to watch the realistic, little, three-dimensional figures play out the steamy scene.

Before long, five of the guys have the big-breasted goddess cornered between the juke box and the pay phone. Money changes hands and she drops to her knees and begins eagerly yanking down zippers and sucking on cocks. The bartender tells them all to leave, and the aroused studs, along with six of their friends, drag her down a dark, debris-littered hallway, past the reeking men's room, and toward the back door. The whole way, she's grabbing at the big, stiff pricks swaying and bobbing all around her. The men push her out the door and into an alley, and the six new customers pay up.

The little stretch of dead-end pavement is squalid, fetid and full of junk. A slightly disfigured wino holding a half-empty bottle stands unsteadily in a corner, pissing on the graffiti-covered wall.

Howie adds some rats peeking out of the trash and mice being hunted by a half dozen of the feral, robotic, cyber-cats which had recently overrun Earth's older cities, and a mangy, stray cyber-dog. As soon as they're outside, the gorgeous nympho goes back to throating as many long, thick, dark cocks as she can grab, sometimes greedily taking two in her mouth at the same time.

Just to see what will happen, Howie has one of the black hunks go back into the bar and buy a large carton of cream from the bartender, then lets the program run on its own some more.

When the guy returns, four of the others hold the beautiful whore down by her arms and legs, spread-eagled on a torn, tattered, dirty mattress. They pull down her tube top to expose her perfect breasts, flip up her little skirt and rip off her gauzy panties. Her swollen pussy gapes like the insatiable mouth of some blind and ravenous little creature.

Then the first guy pours some of the cream on her cunt and nipples and others bring the dog and the cats over. They set three cats down at each breast and the starving creatures begin to lap greedily at the cream. The cats push and jostle each other, competing for the best position and the most cream, rubbing their soft fur all over her upper body in the process.

Then the men put the dog between her legs and he goes to work on the cream coating her cunt and clitoris. Howie has one of the men raise her ass and spread her cheeks so the cream can dribble down over her sphincter and the dog will slurp it up and explore her sensitive anus with his supple tongue.

The men keep pouring the cream on her, a little at a time, mostly on her cunt, ass hole and nipples, but occasionally on some other tender spot, like the nape of her neck or the insides of her thighs, while the animals lick her to first one, then a second screaming climax.

But her orgasmic squirming soon turns into a struggle against their restraint as she begins to wail her incomplete ecstasy. She needs feel the heat of male flesh against hers, to feel her skin sliding on masculine sweat, to grab and hold something strong, hard and manly, to be impaled on something long and stiff, and more than anything, to feel something thick, rigid and alive moving and throbbing inside of her.

"Shit," she scolds frantically, "Why don't you fuck me? Are you a bunch of little boys? Afraid to shove your cocks into me? Fuck me, you assholes, you perverts! I took your goddamn money. Now fuck me! Do it now! Now! Now!"

So, the men who aren't holding her down or pouring the cream silence her by, one after the other, shoving their impossibly massive cocks between her shiny red lips and down her throat to the balls. She writhes to two or three more orgasms, all the while gasping and gagging and, when her mouth isn't full of steely black meat, howling with alternating euphoria and rage. Four of the men spew volcanic loads of viscous cum into her mouth, on her face and tits and in her hair, and her shrieks become loud, cum-gargling growls.

"Not just my mouth," she snarls

When the cream is gone and the animals wander away, the men finally accede to her demands. They drag her to her feet, push her up against a rusty, peeling dumpster and take turns fucking her ass. The derelict, whose boner is enormous, joins in. No one seems to care that he doesn't pay. The guys are treating her a little rough, which she actually seems to enjoy, but Howie makes sure it stays playful and they don't actually hurt her.

Not that she needs

my

protection,

he muses.

She's the one who's really in charge

. Because it's clear that, despite appearances, the twelve virile men are virtually helpless before the authority of her beauty and the power of her eroticism. They're paying $300 each for the privilege of servicing her nearly unquenchable sexual needs and, while she's nominally their hireling, she is, in a truer sense, their mistress, their communal wife, their goddess, their queen.

When the men get frustrated with waiting for a turn to fuck her asshole, they throw her back on the mattress and start going at her three, four, five at a time. She, of course, delights in all the multiple penetrations. And that's when things begin to get really intense.

This is Howie's favorite part. He has two guys fucking her cunt at the same time, then makes one withdraw and stick his bloated black cock up her ass while she tries to swallow a third.

Then the exotic enchantress looks straight at Howie and beckons. She seems to be leaning right out of the holo display, with half-lidded eyes, as if begging him to join in the action and give her that one, last, all-consuming orgasm that will put her out of her rapturous misery.

Now Howie is on the verge of cumming, and he's looking out of the corner of his eye for the stack of tissues he has ready to catch his jizz. But suddenly, his boss, Napoleon Hardnutz, the Director of Human Resources, appears and stops just outside his door. He's apparently talking to someone down the corridor and isn't looking at Howie… yet.

Howie desperately clutches at his erection, attempting to stuff it back into his pants. But the holo-vid is too provocative and he's just too excited. Grabbing his cock pushes him over the edge of orgasm and he begins to spurt powerfully before he can find the tissue.