A man and a woman sat alone at a sparkling breakfast table atop the penthouse of the luxurious Century Forward Motel in Chicago, staring at a glass of water that was faintly tinged with gold.
"It's a weapon," said Gwen Rand.
"It can alter minds," said Monty Rand.
"Used one way it could turn this nation into a body of hard-muscled athletes," she said.
"Used another, it could become the most dangerous drug on the face of the earth," said Monty.
The Product Psychologists had come to Chicago to deliberate on the new, mind-blowing product known as Golden Water. Kellogg-General Grocers was prepared to put a half a billion dollars behind the new product if the Rands gave it their approval. If they approved, two hundred thousand new jobs would be created overnight and countless regional distributorships in America and elsewhere would employ still more thousands and create minor fortunes. The Kellogg-General executives would jet in from Battle Creek tomorrow.
Those executives had to come to the Rands. They were too powerful to bother with going to company headquarters in some minor city. Their clients must meet them in New York, Chicago, L.A. or San Francisco, and occasionally in New Orleans if it were Mardi Gras time.
Their entourage had arrived the night before to sweep the penthouse for listening devices, since they delt in company secrets worth millions, to install their chefs in the motel kitchen, to prepare the clothing and vehicles they would need for this visit, and to set up media safeguards so their precious time might be saved. The media were wild to find out what the Rands worked on, because it shaped the future of America. They had already had the customary two-way TV greeting and visit with the governor of Illinois down in Springfield and would surrender their luncheon hour to the mayor of Chicago, not without reluctance. Long experience had taught them that politics made dull luncheon conversation.
Golden Water was designed as a soft drink for children in grade schools. It lessened their desire to eat sugary sweets, it gave them vitamins and minerals and the reason for its value was it stimulated young minds towards serious learning. No one was quite sure how this worked but it did. To make better students of the children was a fabulous and useful contribution towards a better America.
Wrong.
The Rands had investigated this product with their usual care and depth and found out much, much more about it than K-G had ever suspected. Its molecules combined readily with an incredible number of substances. It could easily be turned into an addictive drug that permanently warped minds. It could be hyped with substances that starved the muscles just enough to turn the users into twenty-four hour athletes, narrow, fanatical and totally involved with their body muscles. Still another additive made it affect the judgement centers of the mind so the user easily fell under the sway of any strong-minded demagogue, political or religious leader.
Worst of all, it made an admirable carrier of chemical warfare viruses that could wipe out whole segments of a population.
"Of course there are a hundred harmless additives that could make it fun," Gwen pointed out.
"It has a haunting, pleasant flavor that makes it easy to sell," said Monty.
"I think it's only good as a prescription drug for children who are low achievers," said Gwen.
Monty sighed. "K-G is really high on it."
"We've only got one country and one span of life," said Gwen. "Why wish another burden on our poor fellow Americans. I say push Golden Water forward into the 21st century and let someone else decide whether it should go."
Monty sighed, poured himself a drink from the glass and took it down. He was a white-haired man, thin and erect, of forty-five with a commanding eye and a soft, burring voice.
"Well, we have one more day to think about it."
He put it aside. There were a half-dozen other Chicago projects demanding their attention, and it was going to be a full day, with more to come tomorrow.
"Gwen, isn't there something on the agenda that'll give us a little fun and relaxation?"
Gwen was a dark-haired woman of forty, with a supple figure, beautiful hair, and a brash exterior that belied a soft, caring nature.
She leafed through a thick stack of papers.
"Here's a fourth level local corporation that claims to make sex robots and something called Smart Suits. It's optional. It could be a fun evening project to relax with."
"Ugh, that again. Every five years a robot company gets a wild idea."
"You forget we're national officers of an American Moralist Society."
"Not at all, dear husband. A negative Rand report and sex robots are dead, along with Smart Suits, whatever they are."
"I don't fancy a cute sex robot, or a cuter Chicago hooker in a Smart Suit climbing in my lap to seduce me."
"Don't be rediculous, Monty. I wouldn't touch a sex machine or a sex person demonstrating such a vulgarity. Sex robots are just not to be taken seriously. We'll kill the idea, of course. But it could make for a colorful evening, and we'd have something new and encouraging to report at the next Board meeting of the American Moralist Society."
"All right, we'll do it. But I may fall asleep." Monty always thought that adults playing with robots were like children playing with dolls and wondered if his wife had ever grown up in that one respect.
Later that morning at a meeting in the A-C building, an elated threesome, Nelson Harper, Cord Bannister and Nancy Lyons met, happy to celebrate the defeat of V-P Ellers and his group. Since that wild night two days ago, the Ellers' group and the opposition on the Board had practically melted away. It had been easy, of course, to pressure Morton to withdraw his forces, when they had those damning pictures of the old man having incest with his daughter. He practically begged Nelson to let him change his mind.
After they'd chewed that around, Nelson got serious again.
"There are still the Rands. They are in town and they have sent word they'll look at our robots and Smart Suits tonight. If they go negative, we'll never make it out of the lab."
"They aren't God!" cried Nancy.
"They are in the product field," said Cord gloomily.
"I've checked," said Nelson. "They are big wheels in the American Moralist Society. Ellers really hung a heavy one around our necks with this test."
"We have got one chance," said Nelson. "We don't send the robots or the Smart Suits at all."
"What!"
"What!" cried Nancy.
Nelson pointed at Cord. "You go as Big Sam. They've never seen you anyway. And YOU, Nancy, go wrapped in ordinary plastic, no suit. You both can go through all the functions… you know them all well enough."
Cord looked astonished. "ME, imitate her cornball robot, Big Sam?"
"How about ME!" she cried. "Pretending to wear one of those miserable hot suits! Never!"
"It's our only chance, kids. You'll be so lifelike, it'll give 'em pause for thought. We don't need a positive report. Just so they don't go negative. Reasonable doubt… they're fair. I think we can win that."
"I won't be pawed by some phony over idealized psychologists!" Nancy insisted.
"Oh, they won't touch you. Not members of the A.M.S.. Listen, it's our only chance. You'll both be so lifelike they'll be intrigued."
They fought like tigers, shocked at his trickery and double-shocked to have to represent each other's devices.
"If you represent your own inventions, you'll blow it. You're too involved, you'll explode when they criticize."
They fought, but in the long run Nelson had his way, as he always did. That night, after a hard, crazy day of sweaty practice, Nelson delivered his "robot" and his "SS girl" to the Century Forward penthouse and the Rands… and made a fast escape.
Cord, in a grey jumpsuit, and Nancy, in a blue jumpsuit, stood there nervously as aides, assistants and secretaries surrounded and almost concealed the white-haired man and the erect woman who seemed to be doing twenty things at once. For a whole half hour the Rands paid them not the slightest bit of attention, after that first glance when Nelson had brought them in. Then the man and the woman stood up, as if on some cue.
"Enough!" called Monty Rand, and the hubbub subsided, as their staff scurried out several doors and disappeared, leaving the Rands alone with Cord and Nancy.
Monty yawned and said, "It would be simplest if I took the male robot and you took the suit girl," he told Gwen.
"Quickest," she agreed. She arched her back in a luxurious stretch. "It's been a long day."
"But if they're sex objects, I suppose we'll have to do it the other way."
"Monty, I have no desire to poke at a male robot."
"We're professionals," he insisted, "that doesn't stop just because it's eight o'clock at night."
She sighed, "I suppose you're right… follow me, robot."
Cord rolled his eyes at Nancy and followed the woman off into the interior of the penthouse. He thought Gwen Rand had a nice ass, not a bad figure. If she got, uh, intimate, he might be able to perform…
Monty watched them go, then shook his head. "The crazy things business people invent to sell."
"I know what you mean," said Nancy. The clear plastic under her suit made her itch.
He led her to a bedroom of which the penthouse seemed to have several. It was a gorgeous room, done in bridal white and it had a fantastic, large bed.
"Take off your clothes, and lay on the bed," he ordered.
Nancy had been near the point of revolt all day long.
"Listen, Mr. Rand, I'm no hooker. It's hard enough to show you this dumb suit naked without getting pawed."
He looked at her in surprise.
"Didn't A-C pick you to demonstrate the suit?"
"Yes, but they picked the wrong cookie. The Smart Suit is a stupid idea. It keeps you hot or cold, as if you didn't have your own skin. It makes you walk, as if you didn't have your own legs. It wards off blows as if you were a weakling. It broadcasts data to your brain, as if you were too ignorant to read or listen to tapes."
He stared at her. "This is hard sell?"
Her fury had mounted all day long at Nelson's crazy idea, and the long wait while being ignored and with these two snobs showing off had enraged her past reason.
"Listen, he's got a sleeve that fits up my vagina. It's supposed to make the sex feel better. Instead, it makes my cummy box feel like it's stuffed with soft glass. And wait till you see what it makes a woman look like!"
She practically tore off her jumpsuit to expose her naked body gleaming inside the clear plastic sheeting that was supposed to con the Rands into thinking she wore an SS.
"Whore time, huh, Mr. Rand? Hooker haven. I look like a State Street peep show."
She turned around and about, demonstrating the glitter of her covering in that elegant room, feeling like a two-bit nobody. It was all Nelson's fault.
Monty had sunk into a chair, watching her and listening with fascination. He stared when she exposed her nude body in the plastic.
"This is a colossal first!" he cried. "People beg, con, cheat, and wallow in compliments to us to sell their products."
"Now, honestly, Mr. Rand… I'm going to call you Monty… would any sensible human put on stuff like this? To go to bed yet?"
Monty stood up, still shocked. "Well, all the things you mention have some advantages, you know." It was weird, finding himself defending, instead of tearing apart, a product.
Nancy was rolling too fast to stop.
"It's supposed to broadcast microwave signals to turn the opposite sex on. Do you feel my cunt, yes cunt, broadcasting to your poor, lonely penis, Monty? Are you rock-hard? Crazy to be sucked? Wild to fuck?"
She had reached the pinnacle of her contempt for Cord's Smart Suit. She marched up to the hypnotized man and grabbed his cock in his pants.
"I'm sure you're wild to…"
She stopped. The anger began to die from her face. She stared up at him in astonishment. His cock was so hard it strained the cloth of his pants.
"Why, you are hard!"
He blushed. "Your body in that suit is the sexiest sight I've seen in months. You've got an incredible build. Your anger is balm to my ears. All I get is shit, all day long, day after day; oozing, wheedling voices."
"I… I… I…"
But her trip seemed to break through some thin membrane that contained his own inner feelings.
"You think my life's so great? I sit through hours of dull, egotistical nonsense and some secretary or woman exec comes in the room and all I can think about is her ass or her tits, or think of shoving my cock in her cute face. They bring in coffee or wine, and the room lights up. They go, and I die. I want to be out there in their cubby hole offices, fucking their sweet cunts off. But NO! The mighty Monty must sit and listen to some asshole company president grind away."
Shades of Wally Butterfield, thought frozen Nancy.
"We're at the top, you understand? No hookers, no secret loves… ever. The slightest breath of off-color cannot be tolerated because our decisions endlessly affect the lives of millions. Even the President has more freedom. Because we're the golden door to money, money, money, and besides money, sex is dust. Just once, once, I'd like to… to…" Monty's face was red and his arms sawed the air… "Just once, I would like to jump on top of the table, grab one of those soft-eyed, round-assed sweet young bitches, and fuck!"
"Honey, your wife isn't bad-looking…"
"Wife? She's in the same prison. We go to bed, try to do it. But we can't help talking about this project, or that one. You can't turn off the power of money when it coats your very brain. It's the worst drug men ever invented!"
She said: "Mister, there's an old, ancient phrase, 'You sure need your ashes hauled'!" She undid his zipper. She brought out his cock. She knelt and sucked the end of it as it became even stiffer in her hands.
"Oh, wow!"
He pulled her up and started her for the bed.
"I… I'll just get rid of this dumb…"
"No, no, leave it on, it's incredible. Like you're glittering essence of all the cute secretaries, smiling coffee-bringers, sexy receptionists I ever lusted for!"
She scrambled on the bed, he stripped and with a cry of triumph sunk his cock into her soft pink cunt, which fortunately had oiled just enough to receive him. It was free of the sleeve; she having refused to wear that.
"Oh," she said. "Oh!" Her eyes went big with his furious lust.
She had never felt such a hot, fast-moving prick in her cunt. He was like a madman with the release of his bottled-up sex need.
"Huh, huh, huh," he went. He shivered in his intensity to fuck her to a froth. His body sweated, his heart pounded. "Oh, God, I've wanted this!" he cried, his voice bounding from the walls. He was practically sobbing. "Hot, young, tight, beautiful, fuck doll. No big decision, no earth shaking, just fuck, fuck, fuck!"
He could not last. He was like a maniac in his hunger for sex. She thrilled, furiously gasping and arching up, trying to protect her cunt from his mad lunges. It wasn't that he hurt her. It felt too good. His passion exceeded anything she'd ever met.
"Hah, hoo. Oh, Nancy, oh babeeeee!" he sang.
He went still and she thought he'd had a heart attack. Instead, he lifted his head, cried out in exquisite pleasure, and burst virile spurts into her cunt.
Wham, wham, wham. "At laaasst!" It was nearly a shriek of wild joy.
She went dizzy and weak from his possession of her. But she still had not had enough stimulation to come with him. She just felt aching, tender, tremendously sorry for the man who made these dazzling, complex decisions and hungered only for a hot cunt of a nobody secretary. She'd never in her life felt so much like playing the soft, taking, healing woman and it was sexxxxxy!
"Oh, Monty, ream me off. Enjoy," she whispered.
He hunkered on her body and spent it out with sobbing gasps. It lasted a surprising time, considering his age. When he tapered, he clung to her like a small boy, wheezing and panting his pleasure.
At last, he looked into her face wth the stricken look of a man who was completely satisfied, glowing in love with her, at least for now.
"Oh, child, that was fantastic. Now, I'm good for another year."
"Come on, Monty," she laughed. "You left me hung up there. I'm hot. You can suck me a little till you get your jism back, and then we'll do it slow and easy. I'll just take off this crap."
"No, no, leave it on. I love it, the way your body feels, looks…"
"I'm not wearing the sleeve. I couldn't stand it. It was my naked… just me that you've just exploded in."
"That's all right. Leave the suit on. I love it. I'll write a report you won't believe. It'll get you big financing, sell a million. That I can do."
She lay there holding his head while he sucked on her cunt, an eager small boy. She loved him and his hot desire for her body. She moaned and twisted in heavenly joy. A part of her mind played with the irony, she'd try to turn him off on Cord's suit and he went crazy for it.
He raised his head once.
"You'll need my report. Gwen will kill your robot. She's death on mechanical sex and just as bad on sex in general. Woman can do that."
She sank back, she decided not to knock Cord's suit any more. The robot sales would have to ride on the suit; that would have to be good enough.
He was a fantastic lover when he'd recovered. He flexed into her with syrupy, slow, lascivious strokes that set her belly on fire. She was all the acres and acres of females he'd seen from the distance, or been locked off from him close at hand, that he could never get. His cock rocked deep in her cunt as if it never wanted to leave, and the happy glaze in his eyes told her the poor clunk had been able to turn off his mind for once and be animal.
She felt down his body.
"Beautiful construction!" she murmured.
She had to be kidding. She must see that he was not a robot, even if he did move in a slightly jerking fasion.
She took hold of his cock and began to jass it. In her warm hands, with that sexy white nudeness so close that he felt her body heat, with her smallish nipples locked hard, Cord came to a full erection.
"Uhhh," he grunted as his whole sexual network woke up.
"On the bed, robot, on the bed," she gasped, shoving him gently.
He fell back on the bed, astonished at her actions. Nelson had said that she would never go for the sex machine. She was upon him at once, spreading her legs over his face, forcing her swollen and wet cunt to his mouth. Aroused, he dug his tongue into her box, and put it to work.
"Oh, robot, heh, heh, heh, that's great! Oh, oh, oh!"
The way Gwen Rand humped on his face, Cord thrilled, realizing this was one of the hottest women he'd touched recently.
"Yes, I was a whore for five years in my early twenties. How do you like that, robot? Wouldn't that peel the skin off my dear husband if he knew how I got started, how wild I was. The hottest hooker in Gary, Indiana, oh, oh, oh! Sweaty steel mill workers, grubby streets, sordid back rooms in rundown apartments, and I loved every second of it. I can still feel, smell, taste their rugged cocks, hating their wives, hating their jobs, but how they could fuck!"
She rocked in abandon on top of Cord, and he understood now, that she did not spot the robot deception because she was too hung up on her own desperate needs.
She broke off the cunnilingus.
"Enough of that. I want your cock inside of me. You can be the answer to my prayers, robot."
She slid down his body, spread her legs and speared down on his cock. He violated her with a sexy rush of delightful feeling. His cock sank into a warm, wet and burning hot tunnel. It felt great!
"Got to have it!" she cried. "I miss the sex of those old hooker days. God, I miss it. But I saw… ah, ah ah. I saw that society hated hookers. Society doesn't spend much time with sex. It's all money and power!"
She sank on him, rocking, rocking and he thrilled to her hot, tight cunt. He was also stunned to learn that this remote and powerful woman, a member of the Board of the American Moralist Society, had once been a prostitute.
"I hid it all!" she went on. "I buried my sex interest. I turned to other things, prospered, rose, the more I denied sex, the more I was accepted, then an assistant to Monty, finally his wife, the top of the ant hill. I don't DARE ever let him know, anyone know, but you're only a robot, deaf and dumb. Ah, ah, ah, how well you fuck!"
She plunged for a while in silence. But her confessional mood drove more words out: "I managed to keep three contacts from the Gary days. Once a year I could take a vacation, hide out, relive the crazy, hot days of my youth. But they've all gotten older, one is dead, one sick, only one left. What am I to do. NO ONE must ever know that I have this sickness, as they call it. I NEED a sex binge once a year."
Cord was bucking fast into her cunt now, getting a little dizzy from her hot cunt and this weird, confessional experience.
"The robots solve it all!" she cried. "You can bet I'll give it a good report. My closet lover! I can have my orgies in secret when ever I want. God, I love fucking! I love it! Monty must not know. He is made of steel and ice-water. He'll never approve of sex robots, but I can soften his blows. AH, ah, ah."
Cord put his hands on that white, smooth moving butt and began to fuck her in earnest. Her words, her cock hunger drove him wild. He began to grunt, gasp and plunge up into her cunt. Her eyes were dazed, her rich loins moved rapidly and happily on his prick as she slobbered a little in her excitement and made pleased bitch sounds.
"Fuck me deep. That's right. Beautiful robot, hot prick!"
There was no more desire to talk. The sensations were too great. For Gwen, the sweetness of turning into a helpless bitch animal on top of a thrusting prick was the ultimate release. Some excuse would have to be found for the A.M.S.. Maybe a huge donation of money, that worked best. But she was thrilled out of her skull with this solution to her problem. She rose right up to a heavenly orgasm.
"Oh, I'm comminggg now, now. I'm taken!" she cried.
Cord went dizzy again, felt her freeze and begin her throbs. His own delighted shaft and boiling jism reservoir were on fire. That crazy, dumb Nelson had lucked in. The woman was so wild for prick she hadn't even stopped to consider the robot might have recording devices. So much for one of the top brains of the country when sexual frustrations got too high. No matter how powerful the figure, male or female, they all had cocks or cunts, and had to live inside their love-hungry bodies!
"Ah, ah, ah!" he went and gave her his best, thrilling thrust. He paralyzed and broke, seeding Gwen's belly with foaming hot cum, shooting huge, satisfying darts of manhood into her starved being.
Spunk, spunk, spunk! It felt so good. In his relief and the rich glaze of pleasure, Cord panted and squeezed out every drop of seed into the woman's white, smooth and parched body. She surged against him, gasping, jerking, wallowing in her luscious surrender, making up for the missed passion in her tight, closed world that imprisoned her. When at last, sweating and tightly locked, they tapered, she whispered.
"There's time for another round. I'm glad you're a robot with a full magazine."
Inwardly, Cord groaned. He'd be found out for sure, now. But she went into another talking jag, repeating all she had said and by the time she came back for more, he got stiff and was able to fuck her a second time. His huge delight at her smooth, supple body and getting away with the robot charade, were enough to make him robot-hot that night.
Dressed, stiff and formal, the Rands sat down to discuss the situation after Cord and Nancy had left.
"The country needs some relief, some fun. Arguing about sex robots and Smart Suits might be a pleasant diversion," said Monty, with a sidelong look at Gwen.
"There's that." She was slightly startled at his acceptance. "Then there are the lonely people. They'd be less of a burden on friends and relatives. I might vote for the A-C project."
Startled, but pleased, Monty said: "I think I might too. It would put an end to misguided attempts to convert ordinary robots and the harm that does."
"Yes on the robots and suits, then," said a pleased Gwen.
"Yes on the robots and suits. No on the Golden Water."
They shook hands…
Nelson met again with Cord and Nancy two days later. He bubbled with good spirits. He told them the Board of A-C had agreed on production of both the Smart Suits and the sex robots. In about ten days when the public announcements were made the little-known A-C would suddenly become the most publicized of the nineties. The stock would go crazy.
"Wait a minute," said Cord. "What about Washington?"
"I'm thinking the same thing," said Nancy. "We whipped Ellers, we convinced the Rands. But Ellers told you all about the opposition and delays they would give us."
Nelson's grin had never been wider.
"He was wrong. He forgot there were other, more powerful departments in Washington that could kill those delays. For instance, the Defense Department has put in a tentative order, secret of course, for two hundred thousand female robots, and a few male. They have half a million soldiers, airmen and navy people scattered across the world. The servicemen are always getting in trouble with local populations, getting married or chasing local wives and getting the natives angry, as well as relatives back home."
"We win!" cheered Nancy.
"What about my Smart Suits?" asked Cord.
"Welfare wants two hundred thousand, male and female. They're sure it will cut the rate of unwanted pregnancies among the poor right in half, or lower. The enhanced sex sensations should overcome the reluctance of people to use them."
Cord grinned. Nelson told them that Defense and Welfare had scotched all opposition from other departments and A-C would recover development costs from these orders alone.
Nancy wandered out of her lab and down to the snack center in the building, tired but happy. The past two weeks had been fantastic. Outside the wall the battle raged, a happy fight between the pros and cons because the public couldn't lose in this debate, with no tax money spent, no war or disaster threatened. No one had been able to stop the pros so far, and she didn't think they would, no matter how much the conservative element was shocked.
For her, and she guessed Cord as well, it was a rugged time in the lab. Converting hand-made robots into production line models was a demanding and absorbing work. In addition, they now had public relations functions, speeches to give, TV appearances to make. Nelson couldn't handle them all himself so he sent Nancy and Cord out. They were getting their own first tastes of power and prestige. Tonight, Nancy wore her purple velvet suit with the silver trim that she had bought during her field tests in New York. It was evening, later she had to appear on a talk show.
A shadow fell across the plate of salad she took from the vending machine. She looked up to see the weary, but smiling face of Cord Bannister. He wore a silver jumpsuit. He also had an evening appearance to make.
She popped a Coffee All and toasted him. "I suppose you've heard that marketing wants a unisex robot designed."
"To sell with a Smart Suit," laughed Cord. "Out of one fire and into the next. But it's a clever idea to combine our inventions. Robot and human, human and suit, robot, human and suit."
"And we become a footnote in history," she sighed.
"I'm more worried about what happens tomorrow. Nelson's gone home and he left his office open. I've been thinking we should rifle that mound of papers on his desk." His eyes glittered.
She looked up at him. She grinned and jumped up.
"The salad can wait. Let's go look. He's thrown us enough curves without warning."
Nelson's huge office was dark and deserted. Cord closed and locked the door, put on the golden desk light and chuckled.
"The old boy's spent a fortune redecorating in here, now that we've made him important and powerful. Look at that new sofa."
Nancy joined him at the desk bending over to pick up the papers.
"I don't care about his furniture, I only… unk!"
Cord grabbed her from behind, hugging her, pressing his cock against her ripe ass.
"I think it's ahhhh, appropriate we should do it in his office the first time. Symbolic."
"Cord!"
"You're a luscious doll. The night we went to the Rands I turned on. Or maybe it was the night at the Ellers'."
"You crud! We're rivals. Do you think I'm going to let you… ahhhh, Don't!"
He had reached a hand over her hip to rub her cunt as he held her.
"Got to. Always wanted to plug a lady who fucks robots," he laughed.
"I won't let you touch me wearing your stupid smart suit."
"Why? I'm not prejudiced because you sleep with electronic machines."
"Oh, damn it, Cord." She was getting excited in spite of herself. This big-shouldered guy was turning her on.
"Besides, I'm not wearing a Smart Suit. After all the testing I've done I don't need one too much."
"And I don't have sex with robots," she gasped. "Oh, oh, oh!"
He moved her to the sofa. She didn't want to have sex with him, did she? DID SHE?
"Cord, now listen to mmmmmmmm."
He hugged her in a fantastic wet kiss. She thrilled from her toes to her skull. Her cunt had started to flow. In the dim light of the office with him so handsome in that silver suit and the door locked…
"Baby!"
He felt up her ass and his hands sneaked down and around to jazz her cunt some more.
"You'll make me wet my pants!" she gasped.
"Take'em off."
"Awwwww, now, Cord."
"You're so damn romantic," he laughed. He unzipped her suit. She had nothing on underneath, nothing at all.
"Who's talking romance," she said. "Oh, don't, my breasts."
He had released her big breasts and his mouth went down on one hard nipple. The other one received the homage of his palm. She thrilled.
"You're a cunt hound," she gasped. "All this sex, working with it, testing."
"Think of me as just another sex robot," he crooned. He left off kissing her breasts long enough to strip her suit down. "That suit is the sexiest garment I ever saw a woman wear, but I want what is underneath."
"I don't think I'll let you fuck me," she protested as he took her down on Nelson's new sofa.
"I understand." His prick dug for her swollen cunt. He found it, and he violated her.
"Don't you at least believe in foreplay, oh, oh," she went.
"Do you? We've both been spoiled. We deserve one another, true, oh, oh,what a tight cunt… true degenerates!"
They rocked in silence.
"I think I'll let you fuck me," she gasped.
"Kind of you. Ohhhhhhhhh."
He laid tight on top of her, going for those breasts again. The darkened office filled with obscene sucking sounds as she twisted and groaned in her hot-breasts pleasure.
"Just one… once… ahhhhhh!" she cried as he fucked faster and faster.
"Once in your beauty and I d… d… die!" He glowed, ramming into her even faster. He went for her mouth now with hot French kisses. They twisted and writhed, her cunt burning furiously and joyously. If you can't lick 'em, join 'em, she thought, in the pleasant chaos of being taken. Or was it, fuck 'em?
"Ah, ah, ah," he went.
"I think I'm falling in love with your detached cock, not you," she teased him.
"I feel the same about your hot box."
They pounded up to glory, loins thrusting, kissing, caressing, crazed by the hot action. As she felt her orgasmic glaze coming, she thrilled to think of taking her old enemy's jism. But of course, he wasn't her enemy any longer. They were on top of the world together! She went into her luscious freeze, moaned and gave up her sexuality to him.
"Ohhhhhh!" Throb, throb, throb. Her cunt squeezed on his mastering cock.
He had to give little pleasure laughs at the exquisite delight of it all. Then he tensed, froze and broke.
"Ahhhhhhh, Nancy!" Spurt, spurt, spurt. Right into her stubborn, hot little cunt. It felt so great, fabulous and for once in the last four years he didn't have a single thought about his Smart Suit or problems as he became an animal male emptying hot pleasure into her cunt.