Who Knew a Male Sex Doll Could Make a Good Hamburger?

Too bad blind dates don’t come to your door, delivered like something great you sent yourself from Amazon. Online shopping, something I didn’t think I would become addicted to, was my retail therapy. Other than having your treasure arrive like a present, the best thing about it is still the window shopping. I do like getting a bargain but the chase, the planning, the research and then the discovery of that one, just right, exceptional item!

I wasn’t a fool though. I knew who paid that credit card each month. Me. I could be careful and still buy stuff. The trick was to make sure it really was something I really did need. Most of the time I was successful that way. Books, print books, tended to be my downfall.

A good book is a good companion. Like that blind date but, in this case, he can hold up his end of the conversation. Of course, only my lips were moving.

Until… I had a blind date. Another one. My sister set it up. It wasn’t my worst date but it did get weird when he began talking about his life sized sex doll. Not a blow up doll. A fully functional robot. (I admit, I didn’t ask for details about what fully functional meant). I encouraged him to talk about how he dresses her up, poses her for photographs and other things. At least I wasn’t left carrying the conversation. As time went on he got so excited to tell me all about his sex doll, I just had to smile and nod until the end of the date.

He gave me a little obligatory kiss and a business card before hurrying away home.

I thought he had given me his own business card but it wasn’t. I had one of those soft snort laughs when I read it. But, I did keep it. I don’t think I had any thought about using it, not then. Still, you never know all the little thoughts lingering in the back of your mind.

A few weeks later, another blind date, and a delivery from Amazon at my door. An ok blind date, but I never saw him again.

I’d never had a delivery come in a wooden crate before. Even a solid, metal library cart had come in just a bigger cardboard box. Shipping was crazy expensive. I’d debated clicking the final OK even while I tempted myself with all the possibilities and convinced myself this was something I needed.

As I watched the crate, almost expecting something to happen, I had a minor panic attack. That fluttery feeling in my chest, flashes of cold and warm, and damp palms. So, I didn’t open the crate. Like a lottery ticket, all good and hopeful until you check it. Weeks went by that way. I got used to the big wooden crate I had to walk around in the middle of the hallway. I liked it that way, safe but full of potential I could, someday, choose to open.

Who knows how long it would have gone on like that? I’d nearly paid off my credit card. I’d come up with an explanation friends and family seemed to accept for the crate being there. I even had two more blind dates. No more online shopping though, my budget was blown.

It happened on a Tuesday, a fairly random day. I unlocked my door, locked it behind me, dragged in a couple of bags of groceries and put my purse down at the door. A naked man was sitting on my sofa, watching me.

I froze in stunned indecision. He smiled. A nice smile, nothing dangerous or challenging. I think it was even friendly and hopeful.

I could skip a lot of typing and just tell you it was the robot from the crate and that we ended up in bed, on the floor and out on the balcony, in some order or other. But, it didn’t happen that way. For one thing, I’m not a porn star.

He introduced himself but explained he didn’t have a name until I picked one for him. He didn’t come with any clothes either. Then he asked me why I’d left him in the crate so long.

I was still stunned. We looked at each other for some unknown amount of time. Now I know he was waiting for instructions. Having just an ordinary human sort of brain I needed longer to adapt to sudden change and put things together.

I heard a click, he unplugged himself from the wall, stood up (modestly covering himself in front) and carefully reached around my still frozen self, for the groceries I had entirely forgotten. With the bags on the kitchen counter he started putting things away, figuring out where they should go without asking me.

He had a tea towel wrapped around his middle while he made dinner, hamburgers. I think the smell of meat cooking brought me out of the deep freeze. I like to think it was a predator kind of thing. But, I’m probably kidding myself.

He took my coat, hung it in the hall closet. Putting my hand on his arm, like a proper gentleman, or a butler, he led me to the table, pulled out my chair and pushed it in again when I sat down. Then he set the table for dinner, one place setting.

Who knew a machine, a robot, an android, a male sex doll could make a good hamburger?

After a quiet dinner he cleaned everything up himself. This was the most unusual blind date I’d ever had.

He talked while he worked. Told me about himself. Other than being the youngest blind date I’ve ever had, it turned into the best blind date I’d ever had – and the last. We talked all night. We had so much to talk about! Not just sorting out who he was, how things work and all that. But, he knew about so many things which also interest me. Part of the programming, but he had opinions and different ways of looking at things and pulling ideas together. It aroused me.

I kept him in just the tea towel, sat close beside him and gave into curiousity. He felt very human, nicely firm and warm too. We set his features: hair colour, facial hair, tone of voice, and so on. He became sexier and sexier, especially once we had that voice just right. I could feel the deepness of his voice rumble through me. Then he whispered some sweet nothings, knowing his voice was melting me from the inside.

I wanted his touch so I put his hands under my sweater, over my bra. He told me how much he liked my boobs, how long he had been waiting to touch me when he could only watch through a few tiny gaps in the packing crate. He said his emergency battery had finally run low the other night when I had come out of the shower, nude. I’d gotten a towel fresh from the laundry basket and stayed there, drying off, applying lotion, where he could see me. But, he couldn’t do anything. They aren’t allowed to unpack themselves from the crate in any but extreme circumstances.

He asked to undress me and I said, “yes”.

I felt worshipped as he took his time, revealing me like a special delivery from Amazon. Soft kisses, warm strokes and barely there touches in appreciation for every new part of me exposed. Warm breath and nibbles over sensitive skin, my skin and his skin as we exchanged caresses.

The tea towel had fallen somewhere, his cock hard, and just the length, width and shape I’d ordered. I wrapped my hand around his cock and held it firmly, taking possession. His gasp, shudders and squirming excited me. I slipped his fingers into my pussy, spreading around the wetness there. He moved to slip his fingers in deeper and I let him. Perfect male hands with fingers just long enough to feel wonderful pushing inside of me. I encouraged him to slip three fingers in and stroke my pussy, in and out with a little twist of his wrist for extra hotness.

Three big fingers swirling inside my pussy, his thumb teasing my clit while he sucked and teased my breasts, belly and thighs with his other hand and his mouth. I wanted it. I wanted him. I was ready to take what I wanted.

“I want your cock inside of me now, boy”. For a few seconds I missed his fingers in me and all over me but then the tip of his cock was dipping into my hot, wet pussy. There, he waited, for permission to slide inside. His cock, so firm, straining to push into my welcoming pussy, trembling with excitement but staying just between my pussy lips. He was mine to take so I did. I rode his cock, felt it slip inside, pushing into me and making room for the generous width of his cock. I did it my way, slow and deep and then a little twist while holding his cock so deeply inside my pussy I could feel the hum and vibrations of his machinery as his cock filled me. My orgasm came like tidal waves crashing in and then winding down to happy little ripples.

He stroked my back and kept his cock inside me until the last few ripples. I sat up, astride him on the floor and enjoyed looking at him. His cock still firmly inside me, but I was satisfied and just wanted to see him still hard and needy. I moved up and knelt over him, letting him see my pussy, smell it too. He put his hand up, covering my pussy with one finger slipping between the outer lips. I moved and stood up, leaving him hoping for more.

“You can wash me in the shower and then we’re going to bed. In the morning I’m going to open that chest of toys included in the crate.”

“I think I’m still a virgin. Am I? I really was looking forward to sex. Is it really sex if you only allow me to penetrate you?” He asked.

“I don’t know. But, it will be amusing to keep you as a virgin for awhile.”

“How long? Don’t you want to make sure everything works, as ordered?”

I admired his tall, nicely muscular body and his still twitchy, hard cock as he stood up. “Looks like it works for me.” I laughed, pretty happy with this expensive present I had sent myself from Amazon.

 

Freshly posted to Novel Trove tonight.

People in Kinky History

I know about Bettie Page, even before watching the movie on NetFlix. I know about the Marquis de Sade and Fanny Hill (though I haven’t read it). I like reading about people in history so it’s good to have some new names to look up and research.

“People who want to live like Olympian gods must have slaves whom they throw into their fishponds and gladiators who fight during their masters’ sumptuous banquets–and the pleasure-seekers never care if some blood splatters on them.” — Leopold von Sacher-Masoch

The term sadism – the act of finding pleasure in the degradation or pain of others – originated from Marquis de Sade’s title, the author of the infamous 18th century text 120 Days of Sodom. Napolean Bonaparte, the man responsible for approximately 2.5 million deaths during the French wars, thought the the Marquis de Sade’s fiction was written from “the most depraved imagination” and ordered Sade’s imprisonment. Perhaps the Marquis’ literary fame invoked the jealousy of Napoleon, who was also a writer – but of markedly less-imaginative romantic fiction.edenfantasys.com

Vatsyayana, a celibate Indian monk who penned the Kama Sutra in the 2nd Century, wrote, “[sex] can be compared to a quarrel, on account of the contraries of love and its tendency to dispute.” The Kama Sutra not only tells readers where to “strike with passion,” but how – “back of the hand, fingers constricted, fist or palm.”

Pain can feel great. It leads to a rush of endorphins in the body similar to a push of morphine. Leopold Ritter Von Sacher-Masoch, like the Marquis de Sade, was an erotic author and imaginist who modeled his life after his fantasies. Sacher-Masoch traveled across Europe with his mistress, whom he requested be a “Venus in Furs” and enslave him – “the more cruelly she treats him and the more faithless she is, the worse she uses him, the more wantonly she plays with him, the less pity she shows him…she increase[s] his desire.”

In his 1748 novel Fanny Hill, the most frequently seized novel from United States mail, John Cleland tells the tale of young fictional Fanny – an English prostitute- who acts as a submissive. Cleland writes that the way Fanny’s body looked when she was being whipped, “feasted the luxury of the eye.” Literature isn’t the only place that BDSM elements have been shown as both sensual and aesthetic.

Bettie Page, a 1950s pin-up model, helped bring BDSM into mainstream American culture. Her infamous photos were the subject of public hearings headed by Estes Kefauver, a senator who twice ran for president. The Kefauver hearing centered on the indecency of pornography – especially images and video featuring BDSM elements. The 1959 trial was based on the premise that “merchants of filth” were “as dangerous to society as dope peddlers.”

Bettie herself was subpoenaed for the 1959 Kefauver trials in violation of obscenity laws, after a few of her naughtier photos, of her dressed in fetish heels and black lingerie, resurfaced in a porn shop. The stills and videos of Bettie spanking disobedient yet consenting women were seized by New York police.

Via edenfantasys.com

Women are Out of Fashion

One huge benefit to using males as female models… no one will ask them to cover their nipples.

What do you think of men walking down the runway in women’s clothing? Doesn’t sound so far fetched these days, and it isn’t. The funny thing is how well it actually works.

Men have a skinnier shape, more like a clothes rack. If he does put on a little weight, he can lose weight faster and easier than women anyway. Men tend to be taller too.

Men don’t menstruate or get pregnant. Less missed days at work. Less risk of leakage on clothes, bloating, mood swings, or any other side effects from the monthly visitor.

Men still get paid more than women so selling women’s fashions to crossdressing or transgender people makes good business sense too. Although they may have to lower their prices because everyone knows women pay more for clothes, hair cuts, etc., than men.

Looks like we are out of fashion, ladies!

In the performing arts men were playing women’s roles in theatre long before Shakespeare was still writing plays. I guess all those skinny women will have to find a man to support them (and his children).

Don’t think I’m posting this as a feminism thing. It is and yet it isn’t really about feminism. This is so much a reflection of our culture and the changes it has been going through. Where is it going and how will things continue to evolve? How strange would it be if women became second class citizens useful for baby-making, cooking and cleaning?  There is a great science fiction story in there…

Maison Margiela SS16

Despite the event being a womenswear show, that gang included not just girls but guys – although, dressed in the same slinky, skin-exposing jumpsuits and jackets as their female counterparts, their presence went…

Source: Meet the boys leading Margiela’s gender revolution

An Ovipositor Fetish

Most people who post a link like this will slam it in some way upfront. It’s a way to distance themselves from the fetish, as if it’s something they would never do or have any interest in. But… do you really believe them? After all they are posting it.

I’m not going to do that because I do find it interesting. The idea has been something I have had a fetish fantasy about. I like most of the weird science fiction sex fetishes. (Science fiction sex fetishes are based on reading a lot of science fiction, fact and history). I only say most because there is likely something I haven’t thought of, heard of or seen on TV, that I wouldn’t like.

Having said all that, the fantasy is not reality. The fantasy is a lot more controlled and has far less consequences.

The Ovipositor lays gelatin eggs in the body cavity of your choice. Fans say the sensation of mushy extraterrestrial ovum slopping out of them is a real treat.

Source: The Emerging Fetish of Laying Alien Eggs Inside Yourself | VICE | United States