Volume 1: Express Delivery
|
I awoke the following morning in a tangle of pillows and cushions, mostly under the king-size duvet the three of us had shared. Renie was still snoring, while Steve was idly playing with his morning hard-on, stroking his glistening helmet with slow deliberate movements. I briefly toyed with the idea of helping him with that, but he looked as if he was going to wake Renie by slipping his cock inside her cunt as she slept which would be, I knew from intimate experience, still wet with the juices from last night's playtime. Instead, I slipped out from under the covers and went to have a shower.
I am a Marquis Doll, named, I'm told, after some old book or movie or something from ages ago. The extra opening in my chest where a man - or at least someone with a cock - can enter me while pressing against my tits is a bonus feature granted long ago. I can have powerful orgasms when thoroughly fucked there, enhanced by the sensation of my nipples being stimulated by the same movements. As for the rest of me, well, from the top down: my head hair is thick and dark - almost black - and naturally completely straight. I tend to grow it long - at least when I can be bothered to think about lengthening or shortening it. Fortunately, given my hectic lifestyle, my hair needs little maintenance, requiring little more than washing it through with water and shaking it dry afterwards. My eyes are large and dark, the skin naturally black around them, and framed by long and curved eyelashes. Otherwise, though, I'm genetically hairless from the eye-line down. My lips are a deep red - all three pairs - and my teeth are white, numerous and not at all sharp. The skin on my arms and legs is exceptionally tough, not really sensitive to either heat and cold, and is very easy to keep clean. I just needed to rinse myself down and occasionally rub in an oil or lotion or polish to keep myself healthy and shiny. I have all of my sensitive feelings, my sexual sensations, concentrated in my fingertips, my face, around my neck and breasts, and in a broad swathe of flesh from waist to upper thigh. My skin here is much lighter - the shade an old man I once knew called Cafe au Lait, although I am not sure why. As always, I gave these more receptive areas the careful attention they deserve while the shower water runs: first soaping my breasts and nipples before carefully cleaning all of my openings: my mouth, both cunts and my ass. I then rubbed all of my lips and openings with the softening oils which are recommended for my kind. Of course this is really quite pleasurable, and I achieved, as almost always, my first two orgasms of the day; just tiny ones, of course, "willy-nillys", as my first real girlfriend used to call them, back when we used to play with each other in quiet corners of the playground, oh, so very long ago now. As I emerged from the shower, I admired my slender and muscular shape in the mirror - boy, I look hot today! - especially my slender legs, tight ass and muscular thighs. I keep myself in trim by energetic and very frequent sex, as well as walking everywhere; the natural height of my heels keeps my muscles flexible and strong. My need, or at least desire for food is rather limited, and the slenderness of my waist and flatness of my stomach is aided by the fact that I have no reproductive organs inside me. I have no womb, no ovaries, none of the biological mechanisms I would never use, and therefore no monthly periods either. Still, since everyone these days lives practically forever, my inability to have a child is no great loss. Looking myself over in the mirror, I dried myself under the ceiling-mounted hot air blower, still tingling from the orgasms in the shower. I then slipped on the leather miniskirt and zipped jacket - I never wear underwear, what would the point be? - collected my little satchel purse and set off. Behind me, the louder groans and sounds of movement suggested that Steve had succeeded in waking Renie. Glancing back, I could see she was now giving him anal reverse cowboy, his cock deep in her back passage. Her breasts bounced as she rode him hard, one hand fingering her own opening - a long nail rubbing up against the G-spot I had been massaging only last night - and the other hand wanking her own oiled member. In a private moment, she had confided that she had been wanting to improve her synchronization, to achieve simultaneous orgasms for the two of them, and that she particularly wanted to be able to spurt on her own tits at precisely the same moment Steve ejaculated into her ass. Right now, she seemed to me to be close to achieving that goal. "See you later," I called gaily, closing the door behind me, "Enjoy each other, lovers."
|
Perhaps I should explain who I am, and indeed what I am, in case you have been living under a rock in the Midwest for the last two hundred years. Looking at myself in the full-length mirror in the bathroom, I realized that a person from that previous age would have thought, at first glance, that I was wearing fingerless gloves of fine soft leather which reached beyond my elbows, with a low-cut bodice and hold-up stockings of the same chocolate brown material, together with knee-length high-heel boots in a darker hue. Actually, the leathery skin is all me, even the boot heels: I need to scuff the soles of my feet regularly to prevent the horny tissue from becoming too smooth and slippery.
Part 2