Genius

My thanks to MormonJack for edits and crits.

Chapter 4

While Avery napped with her head in my lap, I retrieved my phone to check on the moles. Mole3 had found something. I carefully slipped out from under her and put in a pillow in my place, and then got out a blanket to cover her. I knew she'd be out for a while.

Mole3's logs were very suggestive, but also curious. Mole3 & Mole5 had been backtracking in time from the event Mole1 had found. There was a track, spotty but readable, heading back to the source. I gave the two moles more cores. I also redirected Mole4 to analyze the continuing data from Mole1, which was still running IRT. The signal seemed to have stopped but maybe Mole4 could pick up the trail forward. Beaver5 was still logging attacks. I stayed busy just watching the volume of data flow in.

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

She walks into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes with one hand and yawning, her other hand holding the so-called Transporter. After the fact maybe well-named, given where it sent her. She stops briefly at the counter where I've set up shop with my laptop to peck me on the cheek, then goes to the sink where she carefully washes and inspects the device.

With the toy dry and lying on a towel, she comes back over to me. I turn when she glides the back of her hand against my cheek. She indicates the Transporter and spreads the most beatific smile. "What do you think?"

"I think you're a genius."

Perhaps only the slightest nod, which I might be imagining, escapes her smiling face, and perhaps that smile somehow becomes a little more radiant. She's not denying my compliment. "I'm in the mood for Thai. Can we order in?"

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

The first results came in while she was in the shower. There was a clear signal before the Mole1 detection, but the signal, if it was still there, became extremely noisy, almost not there. Almost. Mole4 saw something. I have some sophisticated software, originally designed for toothpaste demographic studies, believe it or not. I got it cheap. I was sure the hackers I monitored would be mortified to learn they'd been trapped with a toothpaste consumer a/b tester.

I sicced my moles on the source of the signal. They have the capacity to turn themselves into the digital equivalent of naked mole rats, a species I'm theoretically fond of. That is, they're aggressive and territorial, very sensitive to the slightest sense of wrongness, resistant to viruses and worms, and they live much longer than anyone would expect.

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

She comes out of the bedroom wearing my clothes, a T-shirt and sweatpants. I'm bigger than she is so everything's a bit baggy on her. They give her a comic look that somehow fits her. Comic yet potent: a superhero who is just beginning to understand her full power. What if Tony Stark has, all this time, actually just been the front man for Stark Industry's advanced tech and Pepper Potts has been the brains behind it all? I begin to wonder if I'd underestimated the odds against finding a woman like Avery.

Over green papaya salad she quizzes me on the device. We go back and forth on the interface but as the conversation continues the words grow more difficult to come out.

"The extender," I mention, "That worked."

"Is that what you were doing when--" I offer my hand. She takes it. "I think I knew when you did that."

The elephant in the room is the Everest-level peak experience we shared, and especially her, since she experienced all but one of the several orgasms that occurred. Not that I had any complaints. Women can always come way more than we men. She's clearly still feeling it hours later, I can see it in her, still something coming from way down underneath that shows in a peaceful demeanor compared to her usual somewhat nervous energy. She's not a talkative woman, which suits me, but we need to communicate about what happened.

"And then the speed."

"I can't take the speed."

"Maybe a finer control."

She nods.

"How are you feeling?"

She sits back, slouching, her form almost lost in the oversized, soft loungewear. She keeps some underwear here but somehow keeps forgetting to bring extra outer clothes. I'd put her shorts and other items in my washer; they were now in the dryer. She takes a breath and opens her arms to stretch. "I feel satisfied. Part of me. Part of me, the part that really needed this, that part feels satisfied, maybe for the first time. Feels great. Like I don't have to suck anything again."

That announcement didn't worry me. "And the other part?"

She sits up, takes my hand back. "The other part of me wants to give you a blow job, another one, soon, tonight if you want."

Balancing. I understand. I glance over at the device.

"Successful, but needs work. Maybe not again tonight."

I nod agreement.

"Anyway, did you notice the slight scraping sound? It needs to go back in the shop."

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

The track back to the source was devious. I should say tracks because, after hours of effort and head scratching, I realized there were three tracks, splitting and merging. I think that was supposed to confuse me, and it did at first, but in the end it only gave me more data. Which led to three sites. I spent more time determining they were shell corporations. Beaver5 had settled down, so I went to bed, deciding to continue the investigation tomorrow. Which today had already turned into. And Avery had gone to bed long before, saying she had to go in for an early meeting that just came up. I really regretted not being able to join her while she was still awake.

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

I return to consciousness in the dark, in my bed, from a dream in which I'm some kind of ancient warrior, maybe from the Bronze Age, no doubt inspired by that book I've been reading. I've captured a princess and have her at sword point, but it turns out I'm wrong. I've just liberated her and I'm holding my cock, not a sword, stiff, and she kneels before me-- and I groan because lips and tongue are sliding over my cock in my bed.

A form is kneeling over me, darker silhouette in the dark room, taking my already hard cock into a warm, smooth, licking and sucking mouth. Sometimes with Avery I feel like my cock is in some kind of electric power source. This is one of those times. The energy stiffens my whole body, not just my penis. For a few minutes in the dark, with the cool air over my uncovered body a contrast to the warm mouth over my cock, I just enjoy her. She can do this to me forever if she wants.

My hand touches her thigh. I sit up a little. She lifts her head from me briefly. "I told you I wanted to," she announces unnecessarily. Then back down. For more minutes there's nothing in the world but Avery. I squeeze her leg in response to what she's doing to me, a steady rhythm of deep, warm strokes that surge inside my body like the wavefront of an explosion, but over and over and all pure physical pleasure.

My cheek brushes her thigh. I bite her flesh. It's instinctive to maintain control and not come immediately in her. I want this to last forever. I pull myself up a bit to bite her ass through her panties. I need to bite her little ass. I need to also rub her, to send back the pleasure she's sending into me. There's no way I can give her back what she's giving me, you can't reverse Niagara Falls, it's futile, and as soon as my thumb finds her clit behind the thin cloth of her panties she does something to my cockhead that makes me jump even though I'm horizontal on a soft mattress.

I have to eat her. It takes some struggling to pull her panties off, but eventually, with a couple of pauses when my back involuntarily arches from the lips-to-throat-to-lips trick she knows I can't resist, I manage to pull a leg over me and put my tongue on her clit.

Now we're both in heaven, together. I get the upper hand, so to speak. I can tell from the muffled squeals she's making on my cock. I think I'm going to make her come, and I try, but she pulls off.

"I was wrong," her silhouette says. "I still need to suck. But I also need to fuck." The silhouette climbs over me and sits down on my very stiff rod. I'm treated to a wonderful cowgirl fuck. She's using me at this moment, I know my girl. Even without being able to make out her face I know her expression, eyes shut, concentrating on her pussy and my cock inside it, taking short breathes in sync with the strokes her hips are making up and down on me.

Her orgasms begin small and grow. With Avery each one feeds the next. I help as much as I can, moving my hips up and down in rhythm. She starts out sitting straight up but sinks lower and lower with each peak until, forcing out the last one, groaning a little, she comes to rest on my chest, her breath puffing in my ear.

"I have to get going, something big happening at work," I hear. Before I can reply, my wet cock shines briefly out in the cool early morning air-- light is starting to peak around the bedroom blinds-- then back in her warm mouth. I can see her now in half profile, smiling around a mouth full of me. Then down.

I know what she's doing. There's no point in resisting. The pleasure is overwhelming anyway. My body is no longer in my control. For men who have learned to suppress the expression of their emotions, meaning for most men, for men like me, it is a special ecstasy to be forced to come exactly where that man has longed and fantasized to come, by his exact fantasy lover. Which peak experience Avery gives to me now.

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

Avery hasn't revealed everything about her sexual history. I don't think it's been very extensive. But she did tell me about her first blow job. I heard the story, or began to hear the story, at a too-cute restaurant to which I'd taken her early in our relationship, basically an updated, very fancy diner. She ordered a big, showy dessert, a banana split with three scoops and three sauces. Avery is one of those lucky people who can eat anything and everything without gaining an ounce. I couldn't help but notice the way she ate the dessert, dipping the end of the banana in the sauces and later the melted ice cream, and basically fellating the banana to slurp up the sweetness. I also couldn't take my eyes off her.

"Oh, sorry," she said, not in an apologetic way. She looked around. "Do you think I'm disturbing people?"

"You're disturbing

me

. I'm getting hard."

She smiled innocently-- while biting off the end of the banana and chewing it up. I was learning that my new lover reverted to girlish behavior in the presence of cock. Playing a shy but naughty teenager was a favorite. "I never figured out the right way to seduce a man."

"There's a wrong way?"

She laughed. She took up the other end of the banana and licked it. "My first time was when I did this. Something like this."

"Who was the lucky guy?"

She put down the banana. Her eyes wandered all over before settling on mine. "Um. My calculus teacher."

"Should have guessed." Of course she was a sapiosexual. I'd spec'd that as a machine learning goal when I'd done the search that found her. "You did your teacher when you were in high school?" I made it a question to try to draw more out of her. Also an accusation. It worked.

"No! I mean-- after. He was my teacher. In high school. But after."

I eventually was able to draw the story out of her. She didn't say it outright, but it was implied that she graduated from high school still a virgin, including orally. In high school she'd been very skinny, seriously nerdy, terribly shy, way too smart, and-- she didn't say so but I could infer it-- just a bit too eager any time a boy appeared. High school boys were put off, apparently intimidated rather than excited, and her sexual desire was still too vague for her to make the necessary moves on them. Their loss.

But after witnessing her sister's performance that summer (which, I think, was repeated a few more times before her sister returned to college) she definitely wanted to try some cock on her own.

It happened one warm autumn evening when she was back at her high school at a college intro event for seniors. She was in her first semester at MIT and gave a little talk on what that was like. Drinking, physics, drinking, labs, drinking, exams, drinking. Leaving out, for the benefit of the parents there, the drinking. Her former Advanced Calc teacher was there and later they took a walk in the small business district near the school.

"I had this crush on him in school, but..."

Avery isn't big on description, but I got that he was thirty-ish, sparse reddish brown hair, light skinned. They happened on a gelato place still open and of course innocently, without, she said, thinking of the consequences, she got their special creamsicle.

She was still a virgin but she'd grown up a bit at the university and had listened to her dorm mates' stories. And sitting on a bench at a mini-park she realized what she was doing to her former teacher by the way she was mouthing the chocolate shell off the dessert. The way she carefully sucked in the soft ice cream at the top. The way she licked the drops of melted ice cream that escaped down the creamsicle's side.

He was mesmerized. "That's when I really felt, for the first time, I'm a woman, and I can do anything." She took his hand, the one holding his ice cream, and pulled it to her mouth. Melted butter pecan from the neglected confection was slowly running down the waffle cone. She let him watch as she licked up the liquid, then continued licking it off his hand.

"That must have been pretty hot," I remarked. I could see she enjoyed describing what she'd done.

She grinned. "Would you like me to lick ice cream off your cock sometime?" Avery had overcome her shyness, at least with me.

"Tequila flavored?" I responded, which made her grin.

Back to the story. She took him by his wet, sticky hand and led him to a dark spot in the park behind a statue, tossing the half-eaten desserts in the trash along the way. She sat him down on the base, knelt between his legs, and did what she'd learned to do, and longed to do, from watching her sister.

"Were you wearing shorts?"

She laughed. Her eyes went to the ceiling. "Probably. I was wearing shorts all the time then."

"You still are."

"Not at work. Only for you."

I felt flattered. "Do you wear shorts when you're making your toys?" This was about the time she'd started on the first versions.

"Always. Well... sometimes I like to work naked. When I'm not soldering or something."

"I'd love to be there to watch you."

"Wouldn't get much work done then."

She was not generous with the details of her first time, but she was open about her first taste of semen. "Kind of mushroomy, and bleachy. Yours tastes much better." She didn't, herself, have an orgasm then. She went home later with soaking shorts and had to take care of herself by herself. But they began a relationship and she let him be the first to fuck her, which she enjoyed, she said, and he made her come, but of course the high point for her was always his orgasm, always in her mouth. "I think he eventually got weirded out by that. Unlike you. Called it an obsession."

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

I found it impossible to imagine a man being put off by Avery's obsession, but to each his own. I'd definitely enjoyed her obsessive hunger for my orgasm this morning.

Avery's ministrations left me used up and since I still hadn't worked off the sleep debt from my late night work I fell back asleep immediately and woke hours later-- to find that everything was a total mess. Beaver5 and now Beaver3 were complaining. The moles had been productive, too productive by far, producing gigabytes of data, most of which I had no idea how to parse. So I got to work. This, as they say, is why I make the big bucks. Software is a great tool and AI is often amazing, but sometimes there's no substitute for gelware-- that is, the stuff between the ears.

There was so much data from the moles that I actually launched some data mining apps to get a lay of the land, so to speak. I shut down the beavers, which weren't doing anything time critical, and reconfigured them into more moles. All of that was annoying, but what really pissed me off were the emails. Some of my customers were emailing me to tell me their systems were being disrupted and they thought I might be responsible. Why? Because, they showed me, the DDoS attacks looked like they were coming from nodes inside my virtual database company.

How could that be? And who would do that? Why spoof DDoS sources? There were way, way too many real Internet of Things dumb nodes to use. Why pretend? Grrr, now I was super pissed off. Someone, or some org, was trying to run a digital smear campaign against me. Sully my rep. Frame me. I got to work.