The next week was both confusing and terrifying for Damian. Every time he looked at his fiancΓ©, he couldn't shake the feeling that she must know what he'd gotten up to.
How could he have been so stupid to do that in front of his mates? He fucked a guy! Not just that, he had sucked his cock, and then came in his arse! How could he ever look her in the face again? How could he look at any of them?
Telling himself that it was just a computer, and that it wasn't a real person seemed to be a flimsy justification. Computer or not, he had been completely taken in by that scenario.
That seemed to be the worst part of all. Flashes of memory from his night at Nevermore would hit him at random without warning. A guy at work had bent down to pick something up off the floor during a meeting, and all he could see was the splayed arse of the waiter as he drove his cock into his hole.
He'd had to make an excuse to stay in the meeting room once the meeting had concluded, or the evidence of his excitement would have been impossible to hide.
He was hornier than he'd ever been, and the no-sex rule at home was not helping. He was rushing to the bathroom 2 or 3 times a day while at work to relieve his frustration, as the arousing images continued to invade his mind.
As he pleasured himself, the apprehensive, it was the vulnerable look on the waiter's face as he was penetrated that usually pushed him over the edge. The transition from that naked vulnerability to the blissful ecstasy as he had the cum fucked out of him had Damian intrigued.
How could anal sex give him such pleasure? Was it really that good, or was that just what Nevermore thought he wanted to see?
The unifying question running through all of these thoughts was the hardest though. Could he really get married now, when the best sex he had ever had was with someone else?
Unsurprisingly, his relationship suffered. Guilt threaded through all of his conversations at home, leaving him constantly defensive and irritable. A particularly pointless fight the following weekend had them shouting at each other, until he finally stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
He walked for some time before he realised where he was going. By the time he turned onto the street where Nevermore was situated, he had come to a decision. He needed to go back and explore this further. He needed to sort out what he wanted once and for all.
He walked once again through the non-descript entrance, heart racing and palms sweating. Despite the late hour, Toby was there behind the desk once again, wiping the dark wood surface.
"Ah, the happy groom to be." He greeted him smiling. "Did we leave something behind last week or are we back for a second run before the wedding?"
Damian grunted awkwardly, his voice cracking and betraying his nervousness.
"You mentioned there was a discount for a return visit?" he managed to get out.
"Of course, good sir." Toby seemed delighted. "and what can we do for you this time around?"
Damian hesitated. Saying it out loud to a real person was really a step further than he was willing to go.
"Perhaps you'd prefer to just enter Nevermore and arrange it privately." Toby could see he was anxious. "Once you're back inside, the construct will allow you to create the scenario that you desire. If you need assistance at any stage, simply call my name, and my virtual self will be there to assist you."
"That sounds good." Damian was blushing uncontrollably. He couldn't wait to get away from this conversation. Working it out inside was perfect. He couldn't imagine discussing his deepest secrets with this guy in real life.
Nearly choking as he looked at the charges, but too engaged now to pull out, he whipped quickly through the paperwork and followed Toby down the hallway once again.
He stepped into the familiar pod room as the lights came on around him. Toby closed the door behind him as he left him to undress. The process was much quicker now, he'd explained, because his avatar was already created and ready to go.
Quickly undressing, he walked over to the pod and climbed on. The familiar soft gel embraced his body, engulfing him in its probing caress. He settled back into it, allowing his muscles to relax as he surrendered his body to the pod.
He took some calming breaths as the cover descended down towards him from the ceiling, deliberately fighting back the claustrophobia that rose once again from his gut. Again the gel spread rapidly from his feet, along his body, until his face was completely covered.
Remembering the process last time, he forced his eyes open to allow him access to Nevermore.
The view this time was entirely different. He stood completely naked, his enhanced body once again erasing the effects of his lack of exercise, and his fascination with carbohydrates.
Around him, though, was nothing. He stood amongst a field of perfect whiteness, with nothing to give him a visual clue anywhere. The resulting vertigo shook him briefly.
Remembering his last visit to Nevermore, he closed his eyes and formed an image in his mind of the entrance that he had just walked through. He opened them again to find himself standing there once again, only this time still naked.
Concentrating briefly again, his body was clothed once more, wearing jeans and a tight, white T shirt.
Feeling strangely exposed in the entrance, he wandered down the hallway, wondering where all the various doors led. Remembering again that the place was under his control, he hesitated briefly with his hand on a doorknob, and then opened it and stepped inside.
The room through the door was lit with a warm glow, highlighting the contrast between the white linen and cushions against the dark, rich wood of a four-poster bed and a luxurious, soft-looking couch. A scent of sandalwood contributed to the lush, relaxing atmosphere.
An old-style drink trolley sat in one corner and Damian wandered over and poured two whiskeys on ice.
He turned as the door opened behind him, holding out the second glass for the waiter as he entered. The waiter took it without speaking, and sipped it slowly, staring Damian in the eyes.
Uncomfortable with the intense gaze, Damian moved over to the couch and sat down on the soft cushion. The waiter sat beside him, elbow leaning on the back of the couch, still staring him in the eyes.
He put his whiskey glass onto the glass table beside the couch and rested a hand on the side of Damian's face.
Suddenly panicking, Damian turned away and stood up, walking to the other side of the room.
"I'm just not sure I can do this." He said hesitantly. His mind raced as images of the waiter's naked body flashed before his eyes. He knew he wanted to fuck him again, but the thought of it just made him panic.
The waiter stepped up behind him and rested a hand on his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
"It's ok." He said with his voice a deep rumble. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to. But remember, whatever happens here is without consequence. This only exists in your mind."
He pressed his lips against the side of Damian's neck, sending a warm shiver through his body. His hand slid slowly down the side of his torso. Damian took a deep breath in, releasing it in a long, slow exhalation as he willed his body to relax.
"Why don't we start by loosening up some of those muscles." The waiter said. Slip out of those clothes and lie down, and I'll give you a massage."
Damian turned and saw the towel-draped massage table, now sitting in the centre of the room. Nodding his assent, he peeled off the T shirt and jeans, stepping out of his underwear and lying naked, face down on the cushioned table.
Blushing again to be naked in front of this clothed stranger, he reminded himself that it was all just a computer programme. It was just him and his imagination, interacting with zeros and ones. The buff, masculine hunk of man about to give him a rub down didn't exist.
Despite that, he couldn't shake the sense that someone was there, watching him. He quickly lifted his face from the hole in the massage table looking towards the corner of the room. Was that a brief flicker that he saw there? The bare walls returned his gaze, revealing nothing unexpected.
He shook his head and returned to the appropriate position on the massage table. The waiter was approaching with a bottle of oil. Staring through the hole in the table, Damian could just see the waiter's bare feet as he approached.
He felt the warm trickle of the oil pour slowly down his back, finally drizzling down between his buttocks. He heard the lid snap closed, and the sound of the bottle being put down, but still jumped when he felt two hands resting on his shoulders.
The waiter's hands were firm but smooth. He stood over him at the head of the massage table. Inhaling, Damian could just detect his scent. His aftershave was sweet and rich, but a hint of his masculine odour ran just under the surface.
He took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly as the hands pressed down firmly on his back, running down either side of his spine. The tension was pushed from his body almost immediately.