Genius

My thanks to MormonJack for edits and crits.

Chapter 3

Another annoying email from S21 arrived a few days later. S21 was an annoying client anyway, insisting on using plain email to communicate in clear in spite of repeated warnings that no one, especially a start up in stealth mode, should communicate in a method that's less secure than a postcard. It forced me to use a proxy account and send my replies in secure packages that I had to teach them how to use. They'd contracted me to find them a CTO, which they clearly needed desperately. Now they were changing the requirements again for the position. For the third time. I'd told them previously that each time they changed anything I'd have to abandon the server node cycles I'd already burned, a considerable expense, but they just sent me more funds and said start over. I like money as much as the next consultant, but I also dislike being jerked around at least as much.

If that weren't bad enough, Beaver5 was acting up. I use my beavers to communicate with the big cloud server sites. 5 was seeing dropouts and bad packets. Well, at least it was the one running the S21 search, so corrupted results wouldn't be a problem.

Wait a minute!

I thought. In my business, twice is enemy action. The coincidence of a beaver being disrupted while the client on the beaver was disrupting me was too much to ignore.

I have my own, very private servers that I call moles. I began setting up a few moles to dig underneath the Internet to see what they could find.

** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

New toy remote try it out?

Avery is endlessly inventive. That toy I described earlier is not a one-off. Besides doing whatever she does for her startup (and making a nice salary) she has, in the work/live space she rents, a workshop to make sex toys. Not a business, a labor of love, because the sex toys are specifically designed for her own sexuality. I

like

the message.

Now?

Soon. Technical problem.

WFH. Coming over.

When she comes over, running up the stairs in her usual fashion, she's wearing, top to bottom, a baseball cap promoting Ulysse Nardin (she's also a watch nerd), her usual tan overcoat with her backpack, knee-high black socks in multi-colored sneakers, and— she reveals as she flashes her little tits at me at my desk— also giving a hint of multicolor fabric that could be the wildest shorts yet underneath.

I rub my face over her flat stomach and little mounds as I sit at my desk. But I'm not done defending my business. "Sorry, I need to finish this. Make us some drinks?"

She pouts but heads for the kitchen.

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.

Did I mention that Avery loves to suck? She's not the first woman to perform fellatio on me. And many previous fellatrices have been quite good, even at times spectacular. But nothing can compare to the innocent pleasure Avery enjoys in cocksucking. Other women gave me a blow job because they liked me, or thought they loved me, and wanted to give me pleasure. That was great and I would never fault their motivations. Others blew me because they thought (and sometimes told me) I deserved it— a good fuck, or a surprise gift, being the reason. Totally okay also. Avery sucks because she loves it. Yes, she knows very well what she's doing to me— that's part of the pleasure of sucking— but really she primarily just loves to suck.

"Oh, yes, fantastic," she says, really to my cock, as she's entirely focused on it, not me. "Yes, umm," and then more I can't decipher because she's talking with her mouth full.

Still pressing her lightly, I try out some more complicated vibrations in the phone app. There's a long/short combined with a start/stop that really gets her going. The device sends her way up then lets her float down, over and over. During the stops she raises her head off me and makes oohs and ahhs which I've learned to interpret. I turn the stop time down just enough to cause her to not quite recover from the longs. It's a heavenly delight to watch and feel her go back down on me, dancing her brunette head, tonight streaked with magenta, around my distended erection.

Getting a hang of the interface, I'm able to insert some randomness into the cycle. That drives her insane with tension, both from the anticipation of when the device will start doing it to her, and then while it's going how long she'll have to endure the intense sensations it's hitting her with. She's reduced to animal sounds, made around my cock because she's now sucking me without mercy and with unlimited passion, no longer coming up for air when the algorithm grants her a merciful pause.

I have no right to be remaining hard in her mouth. I should have gone over the top long ago. I can feel the orgasm rising in me. But the concentration I've been expending on her new toy is enough to hold me back from coming. And is a wonderful pleasure in itself. Keep in mind that my AI neural net knows me also and what I like, which is to drive sexy women crazy with pleasure. I try a few more combinations in quick succession, which she enjoys.

And then I discover the feature labeled "Undulator".

The long, phallic part of the device isn't a simple solid or elastic component. Close inspection shows it's a mechanism encapsulated in an elastomer. It's basically a chain of servos that can be programmed to change orientation and thus change its shape, an amazing little device that's like a miniature kinetic sculpture. Avery is as superb at engineering as she is at fellatio. Of course I'm meant to try this on her. Those plaid shorts have wide pantlegs, so I slip the thing up them and around her underwear to just barely insert the mechanism's slowly oscillating tip into her. Bingo. She lifts her face off my cock and gives me a smile like a cherub. One that's been to heaven.

I work the undulator further into her as her fluids lubricate it; she works my cock further into her mouth as the toy's internal massage propels her higher and higher into an erotic trance. She reaches a state, by the time I've got the device fully inserted into her, in which she is no longer capable of sucking. The sensations have so overwhelmed her nervous system that they've essentially paralyzed her. That's okay with me. I know this state from a few previous sessions and truly love it nearly as much as she does. There is nothing in a man's sexual life better than having a sexy woman cry out in ecstasy on his cock. I feel myself lifted into my own erotic trance.

But my piloting of the transporter keeps part of me grounded. There's more to explore in this new erotic paradise my lover has created. After all, the undulator is still only on its lowest default settings. There's one parameter called "Extension" that she neglected to instruct me on. I try turning it up one notch from its lowest setting.

Avery shudders and writhes. She can barely contain my cockhead between her lips. Her eyes are squeezed shut with the intensity of whatever the thing is doing inside her. I begin to wonder whether I'm pleasing or hurting her but the release of my cock from the depths of her mouth has allowed her to make sounds, a cooing sort of moan with her lips on my tip, which she is now constantly giving little kisses all over. And somehow smiling. I'm pleasing her, check. I see what looks like a speed control and turn that up a tiny bit.

Her body contorts to force her almost double on me. Now her forehead is on my thigh and she's grunting. I turn the speed back down. She lifts her head up and looks at me. "Oh, God, that's hard to take." She kisses me and I can taste myself. A few deep breaths, then, "More, please." I decide to turn extension up another notch first and watch her body spasm. Her eyelids flutter. "Oh, you are going to get the best blow job."

"Already happening." FYI, she doesn't consider what we're doing now to be a real blow job. This is for her. Yes, it's cocksucking, but in Avery's sexual world view, a blow job doesn't start until she's deliberately doing it for me and is trying to make me come. I'm fine with her semantics. She takes my cock back between her lips. When I feel my cockhead once again at the entrance to her throat I turn up the speed again.

Her lungs produce a breathy yell and she plunges further on my cock. Avery has taught herself to deep throat, of course, but her small frame includes a small gullet, so she doesn't do it often. But now she can't help herself. Maybe she gags on me as her momentum stuffs my cock up into her. It's hard to tell, she's sucking and squeezing and biting and swallowing and groaning so hard on it. She's coming. She's coming continuously. Her body writhes and vibrates as if it's an extension of the device. She's beyond what can be called coming, launched into an erotic state that doesn't have a name yet.

I'm losing control myself, what little I have left. My body is jerking and I can't stop. I would come if that were possible, and really the electric-erotic energy that's bursting inside my genitals is orgasmic, but I literally can't ejaculate, she's compressing my cock so hard, so I'm stuck in this orgasm with her. Okay, stuck is not the right word. The moment is glorious, timeless, a peak experience— but nonetheless scary. It's as if we'd decided to try some new, giant roller coaster or bungie jump together and just entered the big drop strapped in and the g-force is hitting and it's great but there's no way to know how long it will last or if we'll make it to the end.

I try to turn the speed back down, but I've lost the phone. I can't see, the orgasm is just too strong. My hands flail around for it blindly, which lets the phallus slip halfway out of her. She sinks down. My cock slips out of her throat. My glans ends up wrapped between her tongue and palate. She's still sucking like crazy and that does it, all the pent-up cream in me spurts into her mouth, blast after blast, and the spasms continue, each one as strong as anything I've ever experienced, long after I've totally emptied myself into her.

She chokes at first in surprise but then, recovering herself, gobbles me and my semen down. She doesn't stop but mercifully she tones down her sucking to a gentle lip and tongue massage while my erection slightly softens. I'm still jerking with every lick. I'm groaning, and even I can't tell whether it's in pleasure or pain. The device has slipped out of her completely at some point and is now writhing by itself against a pillow. I'm able to finally dig the phone from between the cushions and turn it off. We lie together exhausted.

She's face down with her head in my crotch. My pants are down at my knees but otherwise we're both still fully dressed. The whole act only took minutes. At last she stirs.

"Holy— I'm just— what was—" She can't get the words out. She licks a last drop of come from my tip. "That was— that was—"

"Beyond words," I say, completing the thought in both our minds.