I was sprawled on the couch when the doorbell rang. I wondered who it could be at this hour, since I hadn't ordered pizza and don't get many surprise visitors.
I opened the door. It was the hot guy I'd seen in the airport: short black hair, blue eyes in a round face, a somewhat stocky build that looked like a thin layer of fat over a lot of muscles, jean jacket, like a farmboy who's gotten his first job in the big city, despite the trendy messenger bag. "Oh, it's you!" I managed to say.
I remembered doing a double-take when I'd seen the guy in the terminal, and again in the baggage claim, thinking, "is it just me, or is that guy kinda smoking hot?" No matter how many times I looked at him, he seemed weirdly, compellingly sexy. It was odd: that round face should have simply registered as plain, but I couldn't take my eyes off of him. Plain-sexy.
So after I got to my car, before I even drove home, I opened up my robot app, pulled up the files from my glasses, got several good pictures of his face, and specified "random". You can specify a personality when you rent a robot, but for a guy I've only gotten a glimpse of, I usually prefer "random". Meaning, the robot will come with a random personality, and show up at your door at a random time. Sometimes I like surprises.
"Hey," the robot said. "I saw you looking at me in the airport. I know you want me." He kicked the door shut behind him and pulled me into a firm hug. His arms felt strong and secure, and his chest felt soft, but solid, through our shirts. I felt a trace of a boner through his pants. He smelled clean, like soap, but with a trace of that sweaty man smell that never really goes away.
He pulled back from the hug a little, brought his face close to mine—was he going to kiss me already? I couldn't see anything except that weirdly beautiful farmboy face—and he brought his lips to mine. They were soft and warm. He opened his mouth, and gently brought his tongue in. He tasted like cheap beer and sweaty boy, and I could not feel anything except his firm chest against mine, even through the strap of the messenger bag, and his strong arms behind me, and his soft, warm mouth. I was dizzy.
He broke away, and the air felt cold on my lips, the way the air feels cold when you step out of the bath.
"Let's take this to your bedroom," he said; "that is, if you don't mind. Which way is it?"
"This way," I said weakly. I led him through the living room, past the couch I'd been sprawling on and the TV, down the hall, and into my bedroom. I turned on the light. My queen-sized bed was unmade, since I couldn't afford my own robot, but the room was otherwise clean. He looked around approvingly. "Nice room," he said.
"Thanks," I said.
He looked at me again, hungrily. "You're wearing too many clothes," he said. He looked down at himself and scowled. "So am I." He stepped out of his worn tennis shoes—odd, because rented robots almost never have worn-out clothing—pulled off the messenger bag, and threw it down by the bed. He pulled off his jean jacket, and dropped it; underneath he was wearing a worn-out black Crazy Bees shirt, with the bee and skull logo.
"I didn't know you were a fan of the Crazy Bees, too!" I said.
"Yeah, they'll never go out of style," he said. "Raise your arms."
I raised my arms. He pulled my T-shirt off over my head. I still felt a twinge of anxiety, worried that my soft, completely unmuscled chest might turn him off, even though I knew he was a robot. "You've got a great body," he said.
"Thanks," I said. He pulled off his Crazy Bees shirt. His chest underneath was flat and pale: muscles, but no 6-pack; gym, but no beach. He pulled me close again, and I felt his warm chest against mine. He was enough taller than me that my head was pressed against his upper chest.
He stepped back and reached for my fly, fiddled with it as if he were trying to unbutton it but didn't know how. My cock, which had been at half-mast, sprang to full attention under my pants. I reached past his hands—large, strong, warm hands—and undid my fly myself. He pulled down my pants the rest of the way, and I stepped out of them. He undid his worn belt and khakis, and stepped out of them too. His legs looked strong, and they were covered with fine brown hair. Underneath his grey boxer-briefs, his cock looked huge.
He pulled away the rest of the covers and lay down on my black sheets. "I'm up for whatever you want to do," he said.
I climbed onto him and straddled him, then lay down on top of him. I loved the feeling of his warm chest against mine, his hard cock digging into my chest, and I gripped his legs with my legs. Kissed him again. Felt that warm tongue in my mouth.
I came up for air, and kissed his chest. His chest only had a little hair; his abs were hairless. I kissed his large, purplish nipple, then opened my mouth and licked it. He gasped. I licked it again, and touched it very gently with my teeth, not really a bite. He moaned and shuddered.
