Mole1 had found something immediately, like within milliseconds. That put a ceiling on the skill level of my attackers. Still, they'd got through Beaver5's first defense barrier. I booted up moles 2, 3, and 4, optimizing each for different possible penetration vectors, tuned them a bit, and watched the console logs to make sure there were no glitches. The process now would run automatically, watching and waiting, ready to dig underneath anything suspicious that came through.
Avery returns with a tray. She's ditched the overcoat and is as cute as can be with the baseball cap turned backwards and her little nips sticking straight out. The tray goes on the desk in front of me, pushing my keyboard out of the way. Okay, work time's over, I can take a hint. On the tray, besides the Cuervo Gold I keep for her, is an open bottle of Barolo, the contents of which she's already decanted (I taught her how), a shot glass, and a wine glass. And a long, shiny plastic object that might have come from a Star Trek movie— the NC-17 scene from the director's private edit.
"Here." She hands me a phone, already open to an app I've never seen before. "I've been working on this a while. The software's still alpha but . . ." she says, caressing the object, a totally new design.
Maybe I've imagined the wrong movie. The long protrusion with the bulbous tip is translucent, hinting at a mechanism within. It might be something Tony Stark cooked up for a special night with Pepper Potts. There are more protrusions, smaller, emerging from a stainless steel base and collar. Or maybe that villain from the Spiderman movie, the one with the mechanical octopus tentacles sprouting from his back, has cooked up something for his girlfriend. The app is pure nerd, a list of obscure variables such as peristaltic_amp and helix_pch, each with a slider.
Avery smiles at me broadly, eyes wide, almost shy, like a teenage girl presenting a project she's worked hard on all semester, to a professor she has a terrible crush on. She'll do anything for me, her smile tells me. I check her shorts. They're a wild plaid that would make Burberry cringe, a style I've never seen before. She cuddles up to me and we sip our wine and tequila.
After her second shot she picks up the object to show how the parameters control it. "I call it my Transporter." So my Star Trek guess was correct. She explains her app, or tries to. Dozens of parameters, no graphics. I try to follow how the Transporter's protuberances wriggle and vibrate as her fingers move over the phone screen, but she's babbling, she's so excited, a combination of creative pride and eager erotic anticipation. It doesn't help my comprehension that she's also massaging my cock through my pants.
We neck for a while, passionate, tequila and Barolo-flavored French kisses that progress, as usual, to tongue sucking. Avery has been quite open with me about her past, at least as she views it. Not much about previous boyfriends, whom she dismisses as just boys with the wave of a hand. Much more about her personal history, her most personal physical history which, she says and I believe, she's never told anyone else.
** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **
She's always loved to suck. Her mother, according to her, had a lot of trouble weaning her, and as a little girl she craved lollipops, popsicles, and such. Her parents had to be strict about them, ostensibly to protect her young teeth. Her epiphany (my term) occurred when she was a teenager. She'd just graduated from high school and was waiting for her freshman university year to start. She had a sister a couple years older. One afternoon she came out of the basement workshop (even back then she loved to invent and build things) and heard strange sounds. Her sister Alexis was back from college then and their parents were out, so the noise had to be due to something her sister was doing. She traced the sounds to Alex's bedroom.
The door was closed but putting her ear to it she could clearly hear moans and grunts, male moans and grunts. Her sister was in there too. She knew that because, while she didn't hear anything from her sister, the boy was, between moans, calling "Alexis, ah, Alexis!" This was interesting. She knew that her sister had boyfriends. Their parents didn't know but there was no way Alex would keep a secret like that from Avery. And now it seemed Alex had brought a boyfriend home.
She went into her own bedroom. The sisters shared a bathroom between them and she saw that Alex had neglected to close her bathroom door, so she snuck through and peered into her sister's room. There she saw a sight that shocked and excited her to her core and which, she told me, she still can picture to this day. Sitting at the edge of her sister's single bed was a boy. She recognized him from when her sister had been dating in high school but didn't remember his name. He looked a bit older now, still good looking, short brown hair, muscular legs spread wide. Bare legs. And kneeling between those bare legs was a girl in shorts, her back to Avery but obviously Alex, her head bobbing up and down.
Her sister's hair hid exactly what she was doing with her head between the boy's legs, but its effect was plain on the young man's face: mouth open wide and gasping, eyes squeezed as tightly closed. He wasn't calling her sister's name anymore, just gasping and straining his whole body. She'd never before seen anyone in such . . . her eighteen-year old experience had no words to express what she saw on his face and nothing to compare it to, but the boy's cries had to be of pleasure.
Her sister lifted her head up and Avery understood what her sister had been doing to the boy. Immediately she pressed her lips together hard as her mouth filled with saliva. A shiver swept down her spine to her young sex and she had to put her hand over it. As her sister bent down again onto the boy's cock, the first live one Avery had ever seen, she knelt down behind the bathroom door and her hand pressed on her own pussy, rubbing up and down in a coarse rhythm with her sister's head.
She watched the boy jerk his hips. He grabbed Alex's head and cried out. Avery's school, the top STEM school in the city, only gave the most elementary sex ed, but she'd learned some things on her own on the Internet. She realized that the boy was . . . ejaculating, that was the word, shooting his semen into in her sister's mouth. Her clit exploded against her fingers. She watched her sister's throat bob as she swallowed the boy's stuff. Avery's orgasm raced up her spine like a firestorm and she swallowed in unison with her sister. She watched Alex lift her head from his cock and smile at him and felt the most intense longing for her sister to put her head back down and keep sucking and the most intense frustration when her sister simply licked her red lips and put her face in the boy's pubic hair briefly, then crawled up to the bed and hugged him.
** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **
"Come on," she says, "Try it out!" She doesn't wait for agreement. Out of her bag comes the lip gloss. This time she paints her lower lip a dark red and her upper a light red. "I can't decide." With a shrug.
Her enthusiasm is infectious and her innocent eagerness is irresistibly cute. I have to kiss her and caress her but as my hand slides down her torso she lifts herself up to present her shorts-covered crotch to me. (When she first told me the story of watching her sister, I pointed out the correlation between her sister's dress— shorts— and her preference when doing me. She was skeptical. But I'm not. Clearly part of her fetish.)
I start with a simple vibrator mode, lightly pressing the Transporter onto her through her shorts. She sighs in pleasure, instantly focused on the device. That doesn't prevent her from opening my pants and reaching in for my cock, which she's been continuously massaging through my pants and which is now of course just the way she likes it, stiff.
