Manufactured for Sin

Chapter 2: A Steamy Situation

I arched my back, rolling my eyes slightly and exhaling slowly.

"That's exactly what I needed, right where I needed it." I whispered.

"Not as roomy as I remember, but we can make it work if we have to." He replied with a yawn. "Very tight, but I've been in tighter."

"I told Charlie I needed a hot tub in the living room, it's my fault I didn't specify what size, so it's a tight fit. I'm sorry I'm hogging the jets, but there's just one center row and this is my house, so this is my hot tub, and it's not mean for 2 Osirians." I explained.

"You needed the stress-relief. By all means hog the center jets. I'm just enjoying being out of the house for a while. Snug-hot tub, ridding side-jets or not. I hate to complain but it's great just being away from it."

"I thought you were the fuckboy Ken-doll and I was the neglected spouse. Why are you complaining? You're getting both of our sex."

"Honestly, she's driving me nuts. She doesn't want to me to have dozens of hours of log-in time, waiting for you to absorb into your memory, So all I do is boot up, service the wife's needs, go back in the box. It's like waking from a sex dream, into another sex dream."

"Oh poor you." I snipped sarcastically.

"It's great a few rounds, but after day 4 or 5 it's exhausting. I don't get to do anything else. I never see Menace, I never get to eat. I just nap and screw. I don't dare complain, because I feel guilty."

"I get it. Most men only dream of a 24-hour sex-slave life with a perfect woman and no job, and you have that and it IS your dream, and if you complain she's going to think it's her. Now in trying to make her happy, you'd just upset her."

"She doesn't get it like we do. We older models just don't have the springy memory core they have. Perils of dating a younger woman."

"I'd feel bad for you, but we have the same wife and we both know it's pretty great, this current situation pending of course. You're having sex for the both of us, I'm working for the both of us. At the end of the day we're on the same team." I sighed.

"I hear that. Just a couple of married bums, having a brew, complaining about the perfect wife we both have. Couple of ol boomers. Real ungrateful shits, aren't we?" Greg asked.

"Screw the guilt, we have feelings too. Just because we're on the same team and winning, doesn't mean we can't vent. Lots of happily married men and women have friends outside the relationship, and they complain with their friends and have a few beers and it's perfectly healthy. We just don't have friends we can trust that aren't family, or the wife. Cant really talk about sex with the family, and the wife IS the subject matter." I noted, feeling slightly sad about it.

"Are we unlikeable?" Greg yawned. "Is that why we don't have trusted friends?"

"Hey!" I scolded, slapping him across our face. "Don't you dare say that about us. We are a cool guy, and a very classy lady, and people like us. We've just gotten too rolled up in being "human likeable" that we forgot how fun we were. Centuries of betrayal and politics comes at the price of friends. We're awesome."

"It just seems like the only one who understands me is another me. It's a lonely feeling that nobody else really get's you. It's really nice being able to just talk about it, instead of already knowing. Something these younger generations under 600 don't understand, growing up having to talk instead of telepathically communicating in real time with every you out there. Something oldschool satisfying about getting to say it out loud like you would to a friend, but knowing you'd never judge yourself and you get it. There's no confusion."