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AI
by Vivian Darkbloom
What it takes to please your 11-year old daughter nowadays;
Elektra, my pale bouncing girl with chipper blue eyes and blonde
hair. Nothing like her mother, thank God, who left me for someone
"better" long ago. No love lost between the two of them either,
as Elektra never got along with her mother. I was always her
favorite, so she was happy to stay and cuddle with me.
Back in earlier centuries, she would have been content with a
Barbie Doll or two or three. Welcome to the 23rd century, when no
less will suffice than a fully functional realistic android just
like all her friends have. And anyways with the price coming
down, we could afford two or three easily.
Amazing what they're doing with technology these days. I
understand with all that Artificial Intelligence, it can even
help her with math and stuff like that. Mostly, I think they try
on different clothes, just like dolls from the olden days.
Now I'm sitting home, taking a day off. Elektra is off at school
with her girlfriends, leaving me home alone with the robot. As I
sit sipping coffee, Roberta (the robot) follows her homing
circuitry, causing her to be drawn towards human company. It's a
girl robot, made to look and act the same age as my Elektra. As I
sit in my pajamas sipping coffee at the kitchen table, Roberta
comes in and sits next to me, wearing a light flannel nightgown
that barely goes down to her knees.
She was a birthday gift about a month ago, so I haven't spent
much time with her yet. My daughter occupies all of her time (I
haven't the vaguest idea what they spend all it doing), but now
with Elektra off at school, the beautiful young womanequin is
here in front of me. Chestnut brown hair, a freckle here and
there.
I marvel at how realistic her skin appears. Absently, I reach
over to feel her cheek with the tips of my fingers. First she
shies away slightly, then allows me to stroke the gentle skin of
her face, to caress her soft locks of chestnut brown hair. Just
like the real thing!
She reaches up and takes my hand, swiveling to stare at me with
her deep brown eyes. Very authentic.
"You are very realistic," I venture, unsure what to say to an
android.
"Why thank you," she said, lowering her eyes. "She" is still
holding my hand affectionately, and snuggles up to my side,
placing a small kiss on my cheek.
I am amazed how soft and moist her lips are. I bet she kisses
better than most women I've ever met. "Are you capable of
kissing, you know, on the lips?" I ask hesitantly.
"I am capable of a full range of affection," she replies
matter-of-factly. "I am designed to be anatomically correct to
both a visual and tactile senses."
Momentarily wondering just what she means by `full range of
affection,' I feel a twinge of guilt at playing with Elektra's
toy. But hell, it was my money. And hey, I'm not hurting anybody.
I lean forward and brush my lips against hers, half expecting
that she will bite, or taste like mechanic's grease. Nothing of
the sort. Sweeter than honey, she responds with a gentle
ferocity, running her tongue around the inner rim of my lips.
I later read that this model of robot was equipped with circuitry
that had been designed with a bisexual lesbian from the 22nd
century who had become fed up with the constrictive consent laws
of the time. Of course, now that the legal age has been lowered
to 9 years old, it's not such a big deal. Apparently, nobody
since then has been able to design affection algorithms with the
same degree of authenticity, and they are impossible to separate
from the well, um, more intimate shall we say, aspects.
As we were engaged in the playfully sensual french kisses, I
noticed that she had sat on my lap, facing me, running her hands
up and down my chest, legs spreading around me. Her soft baby-fat
(-like) buns touched my crotch briefly, causing a pleasant
tension as the blood rushed in, creating a bulge against the
front of my pants.
She looked down at it, scooting closer to where she was gently
pressing her crotch against the bulge in my pants. She moaned
gently as she made contact. The bulge increased as she gently
rocked against it. I had to adjust, so I reached down inside my
pants. Her hand followed mine, and I felt the soft tips of her
fingers stroking the head of it, all the while probing and
caressing my lips and tongue with hers.
I noticed a tiny damp spot on the front of her nightgown where
she was pressing against me. Curious how exactly `anatomical' she
was, I reached around her butt, under her gown, and gently probed
around the underside of her pubic arch with my fingers -- halfway
expecting to find the door to a battery compartment. She gasped
as I touched her clitoris by chance, and the tip of my ring
finger slid a ways into the moist hole.
The intensity of her stroking inside my pants increased slightly.
We went on feeling each other this way for awhile, the action of
her gyrating pelvis increasing with the sound of her moans of
longing.
At this point, I knew I would have to cum somehow, or be grumpy
all day. And anyways, Elektra was already going to be upset no
matter what. "Hey, can I really put this thing inside of you?" I
asked.
"Oh, please," she moaned, tugging at the waistband of my pants. I
pulled them down, letting fly the stiffly flopping arrow of
pleasure. She reached down with both hands and circled shaft and
balls with her sensuous caresses.
She kneeled down and began to suck on the head, (after pausing to
moisten her finger with saliva) deftly inserting her finger into
my anus. My rod responded by perking up even more, irresistibly
unstoppably solid, ready to drill through a cement wall.
She stood up again and, lifting her gown, brushed the tip against
her soft moist hole. Yes! We moaned together in sweet pleasure.
She brushed again, and again, this time pushing down gently,
plunging me inside of her.
She did all the work, kissing me with her mouth and with the
mouth between her legs, taking me into the safety of her pleasure
zone.
Our rhythmic dance continued until, ripe with the tension of
longing, I felt her vagina contracting around me, causing me to
let go with cascading ripples of gushing forth milky sweetness
into the forbidden void between her legs.
Elektra would be so pissed if she know. Oh well.
____________________________________________________________
You know how kids forget to give you notices from school? The
teacher hands out a slip of paper and informs the students that
the message is urgent, and it winds up folded and forgotten at
the bottom of a backpack until either it is too late, or (better)
until there is barely enough time and whatever it is needs to be
done in a frantically frenetic frenzy?
It turned out that Elektra seemed not to notice that I had
engaged in any misbehavior with her girl-bot, so after a few days
or so I found more opportunities to spend time with "her,"
exploring the "full range of affection" she had so honestly
boasted of. Full range. Man, that hardly begins to say it.
And so it was that, one afternoon, I writhed with pleasant
longing, rocket ship ready to reach the stars, the tip of it
captured in Roberta's deliciously teasing and coaxing mouth,
ready to erupt any moment onto her tongue, when the door bursts
open and Elektra bursts in with her friend Yacinta, a thin
dark-skinned girl, also eleven, who as got to be one of the
friendliest, most physically attractive young girls I have ever
met. "Hi dad, we had a half-day at school today, and... Oh my
God."
Talk about blushing faces, all around. In a panic, I gave up hope
that Yacinta would ever respect me again. How on earth would I
blow off this story if it got around? Which it seemed likely to
do with two such loquacious witnesses. As I sat there on the
couch in the awkward silence with steel rod firmly raging upward,
even more firmly in the company of my daughter and her friend.
"I didn't know you had a half-day at school," I stammered
clumsily.
"Oh, yeah." Said Elektra. She plopped down her back and began
digging through it. Roberta smiled coyly up at me, and ran her
tongue up the shaft to the tip of my penis.
Yacinta, still smiling, sat down curiously on the couch next to
me, eyes glued to the scene of fascination. "I didn't know she
could pleasure guys too," she muttered softly.
Too? I thought. "Too" meaning "in addition to," in addition to
what? To pleasuring girls? OK, so what had they been doing with
this robot in all the time they spend off in her room?
Roberta ran her tongue the length of me, and my rod vibrated as a
string that had just been plucked.
"Here, dad," said Elektra, shoving a crumpled, torn, dirty piece
of paper in my face. I turned it over, then right-side-up to
reveal the writing on it. "Attention parents ... February 11 will
be a half-day, in preparation for the upcoming teacher
conferences. Students will be dismissed at noon on that day."
"That would be today," I said. "Thanks for the warning."
Elektra shrugged. "No problem," she mumbled, sitting down on the
couch on the other side of me. "So, is this going to take long? I
want to play with my dolly-girl."
"I am fully capable of multitasking," stated Roberta, running her
finger once more the length of my stiffened member. "I am
programmed with the capacity to give pleasure to both of you at
once."
Now it was Elektra's turn to blush.
"Yeah, yeah," said Yacinta quietly, eyes flashing at Elektra,
then putting up her fingers to silence her lips when she thought
about my presence.
"So," I inquired. "What is it you do with this robot, exactly?"
"Well, hum. You want to see a live demonstration?"
I thought about it. I supposed there was no harm in it.
Technically speaking, it wasn't incest. Simply father and
daughter playing with the same toy. (though I had difficulty not
thinking of Roberta as another girl). And given that the legal
age of consent is nine years old in this day and age, it would be
perfectly acceptable.
"Fine. Why don't you go ahead and show me?" I replied.
Yacinta gleefully clapped her hands, grinning ear-to-ear.
"Ok Dad. I think she wants you to use the lower entrance," said
Elektra. Sure enough, Roberta got down on the silky-soft carpet,
on hands and knees. Elektra impulsively grabbed my throbbing
arrow between thumb and forefinger, forcefully guiding me into
the waiting canyon. I was too stunned to protest, as I felt the
juicy warm ring of Roberta's loving tiny vagina pulsing and
trembling around the tip of my penis, then moving down the shaft
as I nudged myself into her aperture. Roberta gasped in an
ever-so girl-like fashion. Yacinta sat Indian-style on the floor,
watching the close-up view with fascination.
Meanwhile, my daughter was spreading her legs in front of
Roberta's face, and with easy and casual familiarity she lifted
her light spring flowery dress and slipped down her underwear off
of her legs.
It had been awhile since I had looked closely at her delicate
flower, and now fully engorged inside another girl (Hey, I was
beyond the metaphor of it now), I carefully examined each gentle
and graceful curve of bare pink skin,the curling layers of lips
thinly adjacent on either side of her love-tunnel.
Elektra reached down a tiny little-girl finger and prodded the
head of her pink flower. I watched in awe and tremendous
affection as my girl worked herself into a sexual trance, soon
joined by the efforts of the girl I was so firmly inside of, as
Roberta lovingly placed her lips on Elektra's labia, inserted the
tip of her tiny finger into the baby-vagina.
Slowly we rocked together, I and my beloved daughter sharing the
same toy, and with tender aching I watched the storming tides of
her desire rise and flow over the dam. As her moans increased in
pitch and intensity, I felt every one of them in the longing tip
of my red-hot poker, each vocalisation of sexual crescendo rising
in my own emotion of motion towards release.
All the while Yacinta sat as a smiling spectator, now and then
secretly fingering her own pleasure button. Later she told me how
much she longed to be where Roberta was now, in between me and
Elektra.
The roller coaster was on its track now, and I felt it going over
the final turn, and pleasantly I gazed down at the last downhill
rush about to take place, when Elektra's dam simultaneously
burst, and her waters of ecstasy spilled uncontrollably
convulsing, coloring the spectrum of my sensation as I cascaded
over the edge myself, squeezing one enormous drop after another
of sweet release into the depths of the girl I was inside,
sharing the blissful moment of release with my beloved girl.
When it was done, Yacinta looked up at me with adoration and
longing.
_______________________________________________________
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