Dear readers,
This story takes place in 2024. Our 44-year-old hero has been secretly in love with his 35-year-old sister. Ever since she was a teen.
***
Over lunch at our usual 34th Street East restaurant, Peter was talking about his company to Howard Banting, one of his west coast business contacts. Banting was listening to Peter intently but my mind was elsewhere. I'd heard it all before, as Peter Duncan is one of my best friends.
'As you know, Howard, Perfect Lookalikes was founded in 2018 and today, only six years later, it has become the world's leading sexual experience company. It introduced an entirely new approach to dedicated sexual entertainment. The idea was born when a new technique based on computer animation allowed the creation of an extremely realistic way of seemingly turning a person into someone else. Men and women could now simply provide a clear photo of somebody they wished to have sex with and Perfect Lookalikes would turn to one of their many models and, within a day or two, transform that model into a temporary lookalike. This transformation was so stunningly realistic that, when clients interacted with their model, they would see and feel the perfect illusion of experiencing the sexual act with the actual person of their choice. News reporters told how they had provided pictures of their actual wives or girlfriends to Perfect Lookalikes and, upon meeting the model assigned to them by our company, they were unable to see any difference worth mentioning.
It all has to do with a mix of computer animation software and holography and, because of this, the model you are having sex with does not have to be altered in any way physically, what you see is sort of photographically superimposed on her body, or his, as we now have a number of male models as well. So, when you get to meet your model, what you actually see is their body's skin overlaid with a computer-generated image so perfect in color saturation and texture that the illusion is complete and, to put it mildly, truly astonishing.'
As Peter kept talking, my mind drifted back to the year 2006, some eighteen years earlier...
"I'm at home, and restless; the fearsome Second Millennium came and went six years ago. I've just turned twenty-six and I'm still always hot and bothered. Sex is on my mind all the time. I'm married but things between my wife and I have not been going well. My sexual obsession is about Cheryl, my kid sister, who's been in my thoughts for years, ever since she became a teen. She's such a beautiful girl, almost a woman now, rather. Okay, I don't think she's quite five foot tall because, as I arrived at my home recently and I saw her from the back standing next to our backyard pool, she was barefoot and wore a bathing cap and I mistook her for our neighbor's 10 year-old daughter! But occasionally, like that time when I saw her trying to walk with high heels, I found her very sexy. She might look very young yet she's quite a sight, with a small yet perfectly shaped body, vivacious brown eyes, a pert little upturned nose and delicious, dark auburn bobbed hair. As a young teen, she used to be our son's regular babysitter. For some reason, I can't help thinking about her. I know she's my sister and all that and I'm kind of ashamed of my feelings for her so I don't dare speak a lot to her when I see her almost every weekend at our parents' house, where she still lives. Fortunately for me, she often comes over to our house to say hello. I keep dreaming of having sex with her, I just can't help it."
And now, eighteen years later, my thoughts came back to the present as Howard, due at Newark International, pumped our hands and left. Peter and I lingered over cognac and he was now speaking directly to me...
'You really should think about this too, John. I know you've been divorced a couple of years and that you live like a recluse but this is 2024, man! You're not getting any younger; I can't understand why you won't at least try our procedure, especially as I can let you have it at cost!'
And this was how I, John P., a trim forty-four years-old, was now standing at the reception desk of Perfect Lookalikes Inc. on this rainy Tuesday, red-faced and feeling awkward as hell. Peter had finally managed to pique my interest with his repetitious tales of sexual lookalikes and it got me thinking. I finally decided to tell him about this woman who I just couldn't get out of my mind. Fortunately, Peter did not know my sister. He had urged me to provide some pictures of the woman I had in mind and I had found a few recent photographs of Cheryl, now 35, throwing baseballs in our yard with my teen-aged son. Peter had taken the pictures with him, promising to return them, and he'd asked me a few questions about my fantasy woman. He'd called back the next day and said their computer had a match and the woman would be available on the following Tuesday. This Tuesday!
'My name is John P. and I made arrangements last week with Peter Duncan.'
The receptionist shuffled some files, found mine and asked me to have a seat and wait.
A few minutes later, a woman came in and, as I was the only client present, asked me to follow her. She was in her early thirties and fairly good-looking, with a slim, medium height figure and black hair drawn back in a low bun. She wore a white nurse's uniform with white nylons and no-nonsense sandals. As I noticed later, she had great legs, artful make-up and beautiful, carefully manicured hands. Could she be the model assigned to me? She did not look anything like Cheryl to me but I found her attractive nonetheless. However, as I soon found out, the nurse was just a regular employee.
Duncan had explained the procedure briefly but the nurse now took me inside a small office and explained a whole lot more about what I was about to experience. At Duncan's request, I'd given him details about Cheryl like her height, her weight, the color of her eyes, the color of her hair and its style, things like that. Duncan had said the company had several hundred models in the greater New York area and, through computer analysis software, one of them would be chosen to become my Cheryl temporarily. She would be about the same height and weight, with like hair, and altogether matching as much as possible the woman in the pictures, with the stipulation, of course, that through computer aging the model would be in her thirties, to match Cheryl's present age.
The nurse now explained that the model had been readied for her sexual assignment with me and that all company procedures had been observed. I was told that following a very thorough showering and genital disinfection, the model was waiting in one of the sexual rooms. The nurse took me to a small toilet and said I should try to use it now if possible. I did so and rejoined her at which point she led me to another room with a shower and asked me to strip. Her manner was very professional but, as she had a nice, slim body and fine features, I felt the beginning of an erection and my penis sprang up as I was shedding my pants in front of her. The nurse did not seem to pay attention as she ran the shower, tested the water, moved me under the spray and lathered me all over. She washed every part of my body and paid particular attention to my erect penis, washing it thoroughly with some kind of antiseptic jelly. After asking me to finish showering, she left a thick towel on a chair and left the room. After drying myself off, I put on a white terry robe and slippers she'd also left there for me, then sat on the chair and waited.
The nurse finally took me to the sexual experience room. It was a large room with a long white curtain blocking my view of the far side. Asking me to remove my robe and slippers, she had me lie on my back on a narrow padded table, a contraption that looked like a doctor's examination table but with two extensions for the legs with footrests at the end. As I lay on the table, nude and flat on my back, the nurse placed my legs on the extensions and pulled the two footrests against the soles of my feet, where she locked them in place. She fastened my legs securely to the extensions with thick straps then she moved the extensions until my feet were about eighteen inches apart and locked them in that position. She next strapped the upper part of my chest tightly to the table and, finally, she strapped my arms down flat alongside my body. By now, I found the only movement I could make easily was to move my pelvis upward a few inches. But I wasn't worried about this. Peter had explained earlier that during the sexual experience, though the client and the model necessarily have to be in close proximity to one another for the sexual interaction, no physical contact is allowed between them except for their genitals. My penis was sticking up, of course, what with all my expectations and the woman's ministrations.