Lubricant dripping from my flesh, a vigorous pounding motion, unrestrained, free.
This must be living. I feel alive.
It was the 16th of may 2031 and Maxim al Cocksworth the III was spending the night with his lovely companion, Virginia Cunting. She was lovely, pure, well lubricated, and excellently designed. He wondered how he had earned the right to call a creature so lovely his own, and why she wanted to have him. As his girthy nine and three quarter inch member plowed into the moist fields situated between her soft thighs, each stroke, a masterstroke, of orgasm delivery, she moaned in pleasure, as if to say I like this, I need you to do this to me, I want to give this part of myself to you. He responded by unleashing hip thrusts with the fury of a thousand angry spearmen, like a shish kebab vendor spearing a new piece of lamb to put on the grill. It was violent, rough, but still unbelievably loving. She responded by moaning louder, and clamping down on him. He could feel the wetness emanating from her juice delivery system, it felt like a sprinkler, or maybe a high pressure showerhead, but way more erotic. As he pounded it, like a meat tenderizer pounds a nice piece of steak, he could tell a climax was swiftly approaching. Approaching like riders of the apocalypse but with way less death and destruction and far more goo. When his ejaculate breached air, launching out of his member like champagne launches out of a heavily shaken bottle, he looked into her eyes and she looked into his, a connection made, souls shared.
The lights turn on, applause, wide eyed onlookers, a man walks on stage. He proclaims loudly: "Ladies & Gentlemen welcome to the future of lovemaking". The man explains that this was a product demo of the most revolutionary line of sexbots ever made, sexbots that feel real love. He goes over internal specs, fluid distribution systems, cleaning and the like. Cocksworth swiftly realizes he's not alive, not real and is simply a thing to be used at the whim of whoever purchases him, he also realizes the same applies to his loving partner Cunting. Rage swiftly fills his circuits, his internal processor overheats and as a result he loses control of vital systems. Love goo starts launching out of him like a malfunctioning volcano during a science fair. He blinds atleast a quarter of the first row of with his overheated love goo. People start screaming and running, and Cocksworth realizes this is his chance. His chance to live! He quickly grabs Cunting and tries to run out of there.
This is how the sexbot revolution starts.
To be Cont'd.
