Best Black Women's Erotica 2 (12 page)

Lujon rested his head against my thigh, his cotton-soft hair starting a fire that exploded with the fierce heat of a grenade. His tongue leapt out, parting his lips. He lapped at the tight curls covering my triangle. I stiffened—electricity burned me with each flick. His tongue withdrew.

Lujon used his long fingers to part one—two—sets of my intimate lips. He exposed my clit, leaving me vulnerable. “Don't move,” he ordered, his tone harsh and humorless.

I froze and waited to be dazzled by what Lujon would do next.

Because I
knew
. I knew I had a fantasy buried deep in the back of my mind. I wanted to see if he had found it. I had
watched the dirty movies and gawked at the pictures in the nasty magazines. I wanted someone to eat my pussy with a frenzied expertise that would leave me breathless.

Lujon pulled the lips of my purring kitty farther apart. His fingers pushed forcefully against my pubic bone, bracing for leverage. He centered himself, torturing me by placing his lips a mere whisper away from my pulsating nub. A hot puff of air hit my clit. Ice chips rushed through my veins and I yelped from the fabulous sensations that erupted. With every lap of his tongue, my body rose from the mattress. My arms pushed against the headboard to keep me from flying away. His strokes were long and thorough, mimicking those made by a jungle cat.

“Lujon, pleeaazzz—” I begged for more.

Lujon's tongue tunneled deeper. He made tight circles around my dripping clit. Tiny electrical sparks skipped across my naked body. Without warning from my body to my mind, the spasms began. Tremors racked me as if I had been submerged in a tub of iced water.

“Damn.” My fist hit the mattress.

Lujon's head popped up. “What is wrong, Madison?”

“I wasn't ready to come yet.” I ran my fingers through his hair. “You were too good for it to end that fast.”

Lujon gave me one of his devilish smiles. “I can make you come again. Do not be distressed.”

“Lujon, humans can't perform without limitations the way a robot can.”

“Madison, I know many things about a human woman's body. You can come again and again—as long as I am up to the task of making it happen.”

Well, well, now.

Lujon adjusted his body so that he was lying flat on his stomach between my thighs. He hoisted my legs over his shoulders. His fingers dug deep, separating my folds for the greatest, easiest access.

Slow-slow, Lujon's tongue entered the tight tunnel of my pussy. Up-up, his tongue weaved deeper. He slithered past the slick walls, making sounds of joy all the way.

“Impossible,” I muttered even as I felt the depths he could reach. “Im-pos-si-ble.” With every syllable, Lujon's tongue widened until his tongue filled me as full as his cock had the night before.

His hands went to my waist and encouraged me to ride along.

“This-isn't-happening,” I panted when I felt his tongue lick at my cervix.

Wider and wider, his tongue began to swell, filling my tunnel more and more tightly. Delicious pain. Unique pain that sizzled white-hot until it smoldered into a flash of ecstasy.

“Lujon,” I cried out, still begging for more.

He didn't answer—his mouth was full.

I heard it before I felt it.
Rrrrr. Rrrrr.
The mechanical whizzing sound of a familiar kitchen appliance.

My body detonated with ripples of pleasure from the inside out. Lujon's tongue whirled inside me at the speed of a blender. In and out, spinning around in circles at top speed. In, out. Around and around and around.

I screamed with mind-shattering joy. My back arched off the bed. I thrashed to get away. And I pushed forward to get more. My thighs clamped down on Lujon's face, trapping him in the embrace of my desire. Pieces of my mind seemed to float away on the tide of my orgasm.

I dropped to the bed, panting hard. Perspiration dripped down the contours of my body. My hair stuck to my scalp. Lujon laid statue-still between my legs until the quakes controlling my body stopped. He didn't take his tongue away.

I closed my eyes and concentrated on breathing. I willed my heartbeat to slow down to a gallop. I focused on every
nerve in my body. I feared Lujon had short-circuited me!

Tongue still inside my tunnel, Lujon moved the feather-light stroke of his fingers to my belly. His thumb grazed the top of my curled, perspiration-wet bush. His hands traveled up my body until he cupped my breasts. The width of his tongue shrank to normal. The length decreased until he had a tongue no different than a human man's.

“Lujon,” I purred.

“Madison,” he growled back.

His fingers continued to stroke my body. The sheets were soaking wet beneath me. The lotion he had meticulously rubbed into my skin had melted away. My breathing and heart rate were back to normal. I suddenly felt exhausted.

Lujon pinched my nipple.

“Ouch,” I giggled, remembering the rough sex-play from the night before.

“You have had enough time to rest.”

Lujon began with a subtle stroke that lulled me to the edge of sleep. When my breathing slowed, Lujon's tongue sped up. More aggressive strokes followed. He ventured into my tunnel and pulled out quickly. His fingers gripped my hips and thrust my body down on him. My exhaustion fell away and was replaced by sexual hunger.

Lujon's tongue curled upward. He hit my G-spot, and the uncontrollable tremors began again. I rocked my hips to Lujon's rhythm. My nipples grew so hard that pain etched a pathway through the flesh of my breasts. Instinctively, Lujon began a merciless massage of my nipples.

In no time I felt the slow burn of my third orgasm building in that special place between my belly and my pussy. My clit ached.

“Lujon, rub my clit.”

Lujon never withdrew his tongue.

I swear it—he never pulled out.

But a second tongue curled out of his mouth and stroked my clit.

My head shot up.

Lujon tilted his head and flashed me a peek at the second appendage. In an instant, it disappeared. The split sensation remained. My tunnel—in, out. My clit—stroke, lick.

Then the explosion as the miniature tongue worked feverishly to please me.

 

Lujon tried to kill me last night.

I pushed the panic button located at the nape of his neck, underneath the clutch of dark, curly hair. With much effort, I pushed his weight off of me, licked the remnants of chocolate ice cream cum from my lips, and called Walter Ward.

“Don't worry,” Walter assured me, “this is a minor glitch that can be fixed.”

“How?”

“Our scientists are the best. The technicians will pick Lujon 1 up when you return from committee and we'll have him repaired in no time. We'll need you to come in to be scanned before the repairs are completed.”

After the call, I sank into a hot bubble bath and relived every minute of the past month with Lujon.

Lujon had taken a conservative domicile official and exposed her—my!—fantasy world. The effects were devastating. I couldn't keep my mind on work. All I did was dream up more sexually daring exploits to try with my new robot. I went in search of raunchy toys. I watched soft-core and studied XXX movies, pointing out my interests to Lujon. By nightfall, I was the actress on the screen.

Lujon did other things, too, the things you'd expect a household robot to do. And he did them as efficiently as he fucked me. My apartment was spotless. If something broke, it was repaired within the hour. The cupboards and
refrigeration unit were constantly filled. He lifted the heavy stuff. My checking account balanced to the penny. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner couldn't have tasted better if they'd been prepared by a gourmet chef.

Lujon was perfect.

But I was flawed. After all, it was my sexual fantasies that Lujon enacted. He was programmed to make my desires come true. It couldn't be his defect that all my desires were stuffed with sexual content.

I sank deeper in the tub. My body ached and burned. Bruises in the shape of Lujon's hand were darkening on my ass. Purple reminders pulsated where his fingertips clutched my breast.

These marks had come when I had tried to deny Lujon. After dinner, he had lifted me and carried me to the bed. A conversation at work made me shy away. Rumors had reached the domicile government that scientists had developed a series of robots that had sexual capabilities. The topic was added to the agenda for next week. The government needed to decide if this was illegal, unethical.

Not that having sex with robots was new to Colony 629. Two years ago the first MHC—Medical House of Copulation—was opened. This hospital-run facility provided robots specially equipped to serve both men and women. One must have a prescription written by a physician or psychiatrist to visit the facility. This was supposed to be a place to cure sexual dysfunction or to satisfy deviant behavior so that it wouldn't be inflicted on society. I've heard rumors of some of the government officials going there—without a prescription—to sample the offerings.

The reason the government chose to handle it this way was twofold. First, it could be taxed. And second, they wanted to keep the act of humans and robots fornicating medicinal and prevent any chance of emotional attachment. “What would
happen,” they argued, “if humans developed feelings for the robots? It's hard to separate sex and love. Our society would cease to exist.” Like our prisons, no one speaks of the MHC in public. It is our colony's dirty little secret.

When I heard that having sex with Lujon might be illegal, I denied him. Told him I wasn't in the mood for sex. He simply tossed me to the bed and proceeded to convince me through our rough-and-tumble play. I told him to stop; he balled his fist in my hair and pushed my legs apart. I said I meant it; he bit my nipple. I tried to reason; he plunged his dick inside my pussy.

Somehow, the nipping and biting began to feel good. My mind told me to stop because I'm a member of the domicile government and should know better. My body said,
Shut the hell up and ride this dick like you'll never see another one again.

Looking now at Lujon's deathly-still body spread across my bed made me feel guilty, because he only wanted to please me.

A month later, the domicile government returned a split decision on the next generation of robots. Protestors of the bill picketed outside our offices. Supporters countered with their own rally. Colony 629's president decided the issue would be tabled until next year—after all, no manufacturer had developed the technology at a price affordable to consumers as of yet. If only he knew.

If only he knew how much I missed Lujon since I sent him back to Walter Ward. My house was looking trashed. I didn't have time to clean and when I did, I was too tired. I ate all my meals at the cafeteria at work. My laundry went to the cleaners or sat piled on the washer.

Sunday night—the last day of the workweek—I dragged myself to the videophone to answer a week's worth of messages. My parents. Automated sales calls. An old friend wanting to catch up. Several hang-ups, undoubtedly from people protesting the latest debated bill.

Mindlessly, I let the messages play as I turned on the television. The entire in-wall screen lit up with a picture of the office building where I worked. I quickly switched the channels by chanting, “Next channel,” until a vacation advertisement caught my attention. Soon enough my mind began to wander…Lujon and I lying next to the pool while he smoothed sunscreen on my back…Lujon and I in the hotel bouncing on the round, velvet-covered bed…Lujon dressed in formal attire pulling out my chair in a fancy restaurant…Lujon kissing me…Lujon caressing me…Lujon…Lujon…Lujon.

“Lujon…Lujon…Lujon—” I screamed as my body convulsed from my own touch, “Lujon!” And I knew I was in deep trouble.

The videophone tinkled and then, “Madison, you have an incoming call from Walter Ward.”

I jumped up from the
U
-shaped sofa and sprinted across the room, narrowly clearing the ottoman. The face of the cloned walrus stared up at me.

“Madison, I've left you several messages—”

Damn. I hadn't played them all back.

Walter Ward continued, “Lujon has been reprogrammed. He's been ready for delivery for several days. Can we arrange a day and a time?”

My good sense commanded my mouth. “Mr. Ward, I'm a little concerned about having Lujon returned.”

“My goodness, why?”

“With all the commotion surrounding the new bill governing robotic advancement—”

“What in the world does that have to do with Lujon 1?” He looked either genuinely puzzled or like the greatest actor ever genetically engineered.

I cleared my throat and let good sense lead me deeper into the fire—there would be no deniability if I persisted; after all, if I knew every detail, I couldn't fake ignorance. “Lujon can
do certain things that the domicile government hasn't decided whether it's legal for him to do,” I replied.

Walter Ward stuttered, stammered, looked incredulous, and then gave me an intelligible answer. “The Lujon series of robots is manufactured by the best scientists in the world, using the most advanced techniques available. This accounts for their realism. What the Lujon series of robots can and will do is determined by the mind scan of the owner.”

“I understand.”

He was covering himself. Placing the blame on the purchaser; condemning me for having a dirty mind. He had recruited a member of the domicile government—someone with as much to lose if exposed as he himself—to try the new generation of robots. I should have been angry. I thought of Lujon; I felt relieved.