Working on a new exhibit in the Hands On Museum, the people in charge have brought the two of us together. You have been brought in for your computer expertise and skill with virtual reality. I am to be the exhibit. The newest exhibition in the museum is to be on human sexuality, and a special room is being added for a special purpose.
When I meet you and shake your hand I look into your eyes, so blue. Perhaps I clasp your hand too long. Embarrassed, I look away and laugh. We are to work together on the designing of a special "display" table for the human female body (my own) to be exhibited - the idea being that groups (mostly male) may be brought in for a hands-on experience with female anatomy and sexuality. I am to be nude and ready for sexual exploration during tours.
As the meeting continues, I watch you take notes, fascinated with your hands. At the conclusion of the meeting the director informs us that we need to have our plans for the table by the end of next week. I am looking forward to working with you, as you soon put me at ease with your easy laugh and banter. We begin to work on the table. It need to be of average height, metal, but with a comfortable padded material in the middle. I tell you I'd feel more "turned on" for patrons with light restraints - padded maybe - on the wrists and ankles, to be controlled by myself with a keypad under my right hand.
Obviously, we'll need stirrups at the end, and then a virtual reality system for me at the head. We decide on virtual goggles with sound so that I may distance myself from the tour but stay in a constant state of arousal. You are to design the programs based on my own fantasies, which I then control with the keypad at my hand. Messages may be relayed to me over the headset.
After we turn in the design we begin to spend lunches together and although I'm shy at first, I begin to tell you some visual images I'd like in the programs. You don't seem offended at all and that makes it easier.
The table is completed and the exhibit opens - only special tour groups are allowed with guides to supervise. I lay naked on my table, feet in stirrups, in another world due to the goggles. The guide then shows the group my external body, the breasts, hips, thighs, stomach, and finally, vagina. He demonstrates with a variety of ways, finger, dildo, and in some cases his own penis how to make a woman achieve orgasm, the changes in cunt, breathing, breasts, moans. Patrons may on occasion don gloves and feel the inside of my vagina, the swelling, etc.
The entire time I am aware of the sensations but exist in the fantasy of what I see. When the tour is over, I end the program, cool down, and either rest up for the next tour or dress and walk the gardens. I see you on occasion in the building or at lunch, you always have a dirty joke and a compliment or such, making me wistful. I meet with you weekly to hash out a new program, or work on an old one but never outside work. We eye each other's rings and avoid the subject.
One afternoon as it nears closing time I am on "the table" and your voice over the headset asks, "I have a new program setup, would you like me to run it?"
