On Sunday morning I awoke to find myself alone in the bed. I sat up and my head protested by exploding. Well, not literally, but that's what it felt like. Thinking how much I hated hangovers, I stumbled into the bathroom and downed some aspirin. Resisting the urge to go back to bed I made my way downstairs to find my wife Jolene in the kitchen drinking a cup of coffee and eating a bagel.
"That coffee smells good." I said pouring myself a cup.
"Would you like me to make you some eggs or something?" She offered.
"No, I'm not sure my stomach would tolerate that." I answered. "I think I'll just stick with a bagel too."
I toasted a bagel, spread some butter on it and sat down at the table with my wife. I was still nursing a nasty headache; you would have thought by now that I would have learned to watch how much I drink, but apparently not. Maybe this one would do it.
"So, did you enjoy the party last night?" I asked my wife.
She smiled at the memory. "Yes I did, although I didn't realize how much I drank. Thankfully I'm not really hungover this morning, although it doesn't look like you can say the same."
I ignored her jibe about my hangover. "So what do you remember?"
"I remember everything right up to the point where I was feeling woozy and you brought me upstairs to lay down. Things get a little fuzzy after that." She answered.
She was not feeling "woozy" before we went upstairs, but since she "knew" she was drunk, her mind must have provided that detail. It never ceased to amaze me how much our memory reflects what we believe happened, in contrast to reality. In fact, it makes me wonder what "reality" really is.
My wife went on to describe her little meeting outside that ended in a blowjob and her subsequent "drunken" gangbang upstairs. She seemed to remember what she felt and what was said directly to her, but it sounded like other conversations in the room escaped her notice.
For my part I pretended that I had not noticed any of her sexual activities, telling her that I was busy talking to Tom and working the room. She accepted that, but was worried that I was upset with her for her behavior. I pointed out that I loved her slutty behavior and that what happened after she was "passed out" was not her fault.
Normally all this talk of sex would have led to me fucking Jolene's brains out, but I was a bit worn out from all the sex lately and was not in the mood. A few months ago I would not have believed such a thing possible.
Later that day Tom called to see how we were doing, but I knew he was mostly concerned about Jolene.
"Say, I think I have a way to help you with your little problem." He commented.
"I'm listening." I replied.
"I have this friend who is a bit of an inventor and I think he's working on something that I think you both would find interesting." He said.
"Really?" I answered. I didn't know what he was talking about, but with Tom there was the possibility of something really fun.
"Yes. Come by my place after supper on Tuesday night and I'll bring you over to meet him. I promise it will be worth your time."
Well, that was enigmatic, but I was curious so I accepted his offer and informed my wife. She was more cautious than me, but she still wanted to find out what Tom was up to, so she didn't object. I could have forced her to go anyway, of course, but for some reason I enjoyed it more when she went along with my plans willingly.
On Tuesday night I found myself standing at Tom's front door ringing the bell. Jolene was right beside me wearing a relatively modest blouse and skirt. Tom answered the door and invited us in. He had a very nice house, not much bigger than ours, but more upscale in terms of features and furnishing. After giving us a quick tour he told us that he was driving us over to his friend Ned's house. Ned was a real geek who worked with Tom as a software engineer, but was also a part-time inventor. Tom said that Ned was working on something that not only would we be interested in, but that we could help Ned out with it. I still had no idea what he was talking about, but he wouldn't say more, only that we had to see 'it', whatever 'it' was and then we would understand.
Tom drove us over in his car; it was only a few miles away. Ned's house was much more modest than Tom's; even ours was nicer. Ned was a decent enough guy, kind of quiet and shy, but obviously quite intelligent. He seemed to have a computer in ever room and they were all networked to a central server. His "work room", which I think was originally the family room, was stuffed with electronics equipment and work benches. Geek indeed.
In the middle of the room was an office chair, the kind you might find in a waiting room, and underneath it was some sort of mechanism with a tangle of wires coming out of it and leading to some equipment on one of the work benches.
"This is it." Tom said with a flourish as he pointed to the chair.
"A chair." I replied, disappointed. I was hoping for something a little more exciting.
"Oh, no." He assured us. "This is the next big thing in adult entertainment."
"Really." I said deadpan.
"Now don't oversell it, Tom, it still needs a lot of testing." Ned cautioned.
"And that is exactly why Jolene is here." Tom answered.
Ned blushed at this point, but I was not sure why at the time. "OK, so what's so special about this chair?" I asked.
"Come over and take a look." Tom said.
Jolene and I were behind it, so we circled around to stand by Tom. There, sticking up out of a hole in the seat of the chair, was a fake cock. It was very realistic looking, but hardly revolutionary. Seeing that we were not impressed, Tom made a gesture in Ned's direction. Suddenly the cock started pumping smoothly up and down.
"Oh, I see, it's a fucking machine built into a chair. But what makes that so special?" I asked.
"It's much more sophisticated that you may think." Tom answered and made a motion for Ned to turn it off. "Feel it."
I was a little reluctant, but reminded myself it was just a piece of plastic, so I reached down and wrapped my hand around it. As soon as I did I snatched my hand back as if I had been burned.
"Something wrong?" Tom chuckled.
"It feels like real skin – and it's warm, hot almost." I replied, shocked.
"Really?" Jolene asked. "Let me feel it."
My wife reached out and fondled the fake cock, obviously liking what she felt.
