It's so lonely here on this big romantic island, in this alien moon colony that I own. With my wife away all week, and my job as an Overlord stressing me out, there's just no time for romance. Fortunately I'm a hive-mind and my former body was male...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
(Greg)
She panted, even more starved for this than I was. I never felt anyone give in so angrily and completely. She seemed to almost be challenging me, shoving herself down over me, each time slightly more aggressive than my own thrust. Damn she's such a horny girl. I never realized I could be such a slut, it's like she had been craving me inside her pussy since the day I installed her pussy.
And before you freak out, I read 10 articles by human women and out of the 45 words you CAN'T use, "Pussy" was the only one you listed as "acceptable", so despite being technically the wrong anatomy for us, it's all I got, and saying "Synthesized Pseudo-cloacae" will just ruin the immersion. I've done the research. Women are just as picky and classless as men, I have no choice but to drive the concept down with "Cock" and "pussy". I refuse to call it her womanhood or Honey-pot.
(Gizzy)
As I drove my honeypot down over his cock, for lack of better wording. I lost all desire to be classy and PC. Was he claiming me, or was I claiming him? Maybe it all comes down to who is exerting the most force on the other. I was never designed to be a shy little girl, I was the perfect women for a man who needed a villainous opponent as much as a lover. I was him, but with the physical form he desired the most. As the pounding intensified and we traded grappling positions to get just a little more speed or force, I unleashed my secret weapon and activated the implant feature, knowing it was as likely to finish me, as him. Go-go Gizzy cheat-codes.
That's all it took to get him to the edge, partially from how unexpectedly nasty it was and partially because of the vibrating implants. I felt entitled, bringing him to the brink of core overload "orgasm", or the equivalent translation for that. Naturally being a greedy bitch I synced his mind just enough to leech off the climaxing power. Climactic energy feeding is a very "Greg" thing to do.
You don't know true intimacy until you've crossed neural links and split an orgasm at the same time. It's double the fun and half the residual core overloading risk. It's called safe sex and it's responsible. Not blowing up your house is sexy, okay? Losing half your worldly possessions in a nuclear meltdown is a real mood killer. I've been there.
The rhythmic pulsing of our "hearts" lined up almost magically, as I unhinged my jaw and bit into his arm to muffle the sounds I couldn't stop making. The moment flashed in slow motion, and what seemed like an eternity in about 20 seconds of ecstasy. Suddenly the jarring denial of him heaving me up off the stone pillar brought me back to reality, and he carried me to the nearby kitchen. You think you can scare me, big boy, pretending to drop me? Weak bluff. I wasn't buying it.
(Greg)
I frantically grabbed her waist, yanking her into my arms and pretending to have planned it. Holy fuck, I almost dropped her. That was a smooth save, she won't suspect a thing. I spotted the kitchen and the black marble island jutting from the water feature. It should handle the abuse and the heat, and give a lot better grip than the stupid wall. Can't drop her if she's already face-down, right?
