Ralph Burch - Duplicate lovers

Then they rushed down the incredible delicious corridor of orgasm, Sheila twisting up boldly now, giving up her sex treasure.

"Cord – I love you – your fucking me – maybe on some future trip…"

At that moment in the sweetness of his own rise to explosion, he felt like he wanted to come west once a week and fuck the platinum blonde's soft belly off.

"With you, baby!"

"Oh, oh, oh."

"Ah, ah, ah."

For the second time they rose to sexy paralysis and locked tight, and Cord spewed his jism into her sopping cunt, while she gloved on his member and throbbed off her first no-pain glory.

"Haaaaaa."

"Whooooo."

Once again it was exhaustion time. But when Sheila finally rose, cleaned herself, restored her filmy lingerie and returned to her bridal gown, Cord saw that only fifty minutes had passed. There was only the faintest of stains of his preseminal fluid on her satin wedding gown. That could be blamed on spilled champagne. When she was gone with a final whisper, kiss and promise, Cord fell back naked on the bed, bemused and euphoric, thinking that maybe he'd missed a lot in field testing after all. He really should get into the field, out and among the customers more often. An hour like this was worth ten weeks of pesky buyers' insults!

The dissident group of Board members who agreed with Vice-President Ellers met at his Lakeshore mansion in Chicago to discuss their strategy. Ellers started the meeting by showing them Big Sam, the sex robot and the woman robot developed in Nancy Lyons' lab. They stared at the sex parts on the nude robots, shook their heads and muttered dire predictions about the end of the A-C Corporation if those units ever got mass produced.

"I practically stole these from the lab," said Ellers. "If I hadn't that sly rat, Nelson Harper, might've sneaked them off to reproduce them in some machine shop and outwit us. Harper screamed, but the President said it didn't really matter where they were until the final decisions were made. After all, I have more seniority than any working A-C exec."

He had also impounded all the Smart Suits he could find in Cord Bannister's lab.

"Most of the units Bannister's completed went to the West Coast with him. But we have a powerful wholesaler out there, my good friend, Wilbur Watson who has a thumb on Andy Lang, the West Coast A-C man. When Bannister left the coast, he gave them to Lang. Watson will figure a way to get his hands on them and shove 'em back to me. Soooo, my friends, at this point we have the dangerous radicals at the Advanced Labs completely stymied. Not only have they stopped their work, but I have their completed units. Unorthodox – but effective."

He was applauded for his daring, if eccentric, actions. He went on to point out that the SS's didn't look as dangerous as the robots, nor as obscene, but they might possibly be even more embarrassing to A-C. When he described them, everyone shuddered.

"There is an employee under Bannister, a Marybelle Fletcher, a nice, innocent married lady. She is deeply attached to her husband and has not been married long. I have her affidavit that both Bannister and Harper actually seduced her in the lab, using the Smart Suit, against her will and desire and almost ruined her marriage by trying to addict her to unnatural sex."

There were more shudders. Someone asked about the Rands, who were to be brought in to arbitrate the situation.

"No one can buy the Rands," said Ellers. He looked around at the group with a dark look. "They are bigger than the whole of A-C, just the two of them. There are no Product Psychologists alive in their league. But…"

His narrow, white-haired head broke into a beaming smile.

"They have recently come into some exceptionally low-priced stock options on A-C common. As holders of a nice block of corporation stock, they will naturally be deeply concerned on the future operations of our firm. No one can BUY the Rands. But as conservative with a chance to thrive as A-C thrives, I think we can count on their negative report on his sexual nonsense that Advanced Labs is trying to sell."

He went on to say that he planned to leave next morning for Washington to interview certain high government officials.

"We can also count on negative reports from there, by the time this comes to a head next week. My wife's in Europe at the moment, but my son and daughter are in residence and will guard these obscene objects until I get back. Meanwhile if you wish to examine these despicable inventions while I'm gone just call Jimmy or Babs and they'll be glad to help you. They're smart kids and won't let anybody near the stuff except those authorized – and they'll have your names."

Everyone thought the V-P Ellers had done a brilliant job of saving the company, and the meeting broke up after an old-fashioned marijuana smoke, a round of cigarettes of the kind that had almost disappeared entirely from the U.S. except in small groups of older people in the Midwest.

It was the next night that young Jimmy Ellers, twenty-two, and his sister, Barbara, twenty-one, decided to hold a party for their frinds to show off the weird stuff their father had brought to the house. No one had ever heard of a pair of robots with sex parts, except those dirty, back-alley attachments that were so weird and ludicrous. These were factory made and corporation sponsored.

Babs, Barbara's unoriginal nickname, was a little doubtful.

"Jimmy, if Dad finds out we showed off this stuff, we could get killed."

"He won't find out. I've read the manuals and I know how everything operates, so there's no problem."

"You don't actually plan to have SEX with those robots or those suits?" said Babs, her eyes big.

"Of course not, you crud. Who among today's kids would go for machine sex. The idea makes everybody vomit. But the Phillips' had that great party where we ran those blind Skimmers out over the lake, the machines he got from his dad's plant, and the Stimsons got a whole pound of Prelude for us to trip out on, since his folks are big with the police. Our party's going to top everything that's been done this year. Or any year. We'd be dumb to miss this chance to put on the hit of the season."

Babs picked up one of the Smart Suits.

"We ought to go over this stuff ahead of time anyway so we won't sound dumb when everybody gets here."

"So put on the suit. There's a manual right there. You'll have to strip, though. It goes on next to the skin."

"What time is the crowd due?"

"What time do our parties ever start? Anybody who shows up before eleven o'clock is a dull sludge. We've got a couple of hours."

"I'm going to take this to my room and try it on."

"You go ahead," said Jimmy. "You take the Smart Suits. I'm more interested in the robots anyway. I'll practice right here in the library."

When Babs left, Jimmy carefully closed the library door and wished again that it had a lock on it. But Babs didn't come back and he figured he had all the privacy he needed. Guiltily, he undressed, his hot eyes fixed on the female robot. Despite what he'd told Babs, he was keen to fool around a little with that sexy little machine. What you did in private, no one would ever know about.

The house was empty of any other humans. Like most wealthy families, the Ellers relied on expensive robots for most of the house work – robots of the conventional kind. They hired outside services for those jobs the domestic robots couldn't do.

Jimmy, though slim in build, had a heavy duty penis which gave him a lot of trouble. He thought about sex all the time, and he chased all of the girls in his circle. The trouble with that was, right now the in-fad was to be cool about sex and brag about celibacy. Further, the girls caught on that he was overboard in this department and so they shunned him, just as guys shunned the girls who put out too easy and too often.