Sybian Engineer 02

Thought of the works brought a sudden fear of what the firm would do if they found out, all this was far from authorised and official. I wasn't going to take it back there either. If they found it I'd lose control over it, a definite No-No.

"Then you can stay as well."

I heard that alright. It bounced resoundingly in my mind. The thought of staying set my heart beating with excitement and my cock twitching in anticipation, not that it had drooped much since her 'fitting'.

"There's a spare room over the landing, it connects through to the bathroom as well," she went on.

There was nothing more to consider. Getting to know her better fitted the plan, and I was getting more interested in where this strange relationship might be going.

"Ok then, if you're that determined."

"Come on then." She stood. "If you're a guest the let's see about feeding you."

She led me still bottomless down the stairs; her nudity didn't seem to bother her that much. For me, she could have led me down the steps to hell and I wouldn't have noticed with those firm orbs of her gluteus maximus bouncing and jiggling mesmerizingly in front of me under the flapping t-shirt. She walked boldly through the house, pausing at the kitchen door and turning to me.

"Don't worry, the maid will be watching her soaps, she's gone for the night."

I hadn't given the maid a thought. Except for Saffron's nudity there was nothing going on to be worried about.

We went through to the kitchen. She was definitely teasing with all the bending down, and seemingly enjoying herself doing it. Maybe exhibitionism turned her on, which explained things I had been pondering. But it changed things as well, she wasn't trying to turn me on, it was her thing to turn herself on. From then on I found it amusing to catch the contrived 'peeks'.

We sat at the breakfast bar to eat. She faced me, legs interlocked with the sides of the stool. She'd cooked up a kind of stir-fry, vegetables and prawns with noodles. We sat, eating from a common bowl.

"Do you think that you could add a clit stimulator to that as well?"

My mind sparked again. Sucking..., nipping and pulling..., licking..., complex but maybe possible.

Sucking, mm, a cut down teat from a baby's bottle, used like those milking machines they use on a cow's udder. Licking suggested a semi rigid suede leather tongue, lubricated with baby oil. Nipping and pulling could be the teat from a baby's bottle again. There should be plenty of room inside but it would make it heavier, lessening its portability. It would be a penalty worth paying for the increased versatility.

"Frank." She was plucking at my sleeve. "Your food will go cold."

Ah, back in the real world, I focused my attention back on her.

"Yes, but it'll take longer," I replied, answering her long asked question, and as an afterthought I added. "It'll be heavier as well."

"I don't mind, it'll make it more perfect," she answered.

For the rest of the evening I was half distracted, mulling the problem over in my mind. As to the exact methods and needs, the plans got evermore intricate. Finally I had the outline fixed in my head. Now I needed paper to sketch out the nuts and bolts arrangement and the algorithms. Out in my car in the briefcase I had what I needed, a full hundred page A4 sketch pad and my pencils.

I spun the chair round and was hit by the sight and sounds of Saffy fucking on the bed, doggy fashion. I sat fascinated by the 'OH's, AH's and the little grunts', as the dildo plunged in and out. I tiptoed to the door, then rushed as quietly as I could, going stocking footed out to the car.

She was at the door when I climbed the stairs. "Where did you go?"

"I want to jot down a few ideas. My briefcase was in the car." I said, holding up the case for her to see.

"Oh."

I followed her back into the room; she went to her computer, and I to lay on the bed, noting that the machine was now on the floor by the bottom of the bed.

The design was based on a three headed solution, one for each feature. I started sketching the degrees of freedom needed; I'd have to squeeze in another EPROM and circuit board in there as well. By the time she was ready for bed I knew what I wanted and how it would work.

"Frank!" I looked up. She was standing at the edge of the bed. There in my face as I half rolled to look at her was her bushy mound, the dark lips protruding, hanging beneath like the wrinkled tongue of a parrot fish. I gulped and looked up to her face.

"Do you want to shower first, or shall I?" she had an amused expression, not quite a smile.

I sat there a moment, imagining us showering together.

"Oh, come on." Now she was playing exasperated with her voice but there was a glimmer of a twinkling smile.

She might as well go first, I'd be wanking in there as soon as I got in and I didn't want her to find any 'presents'.

"Ok, I'll go first then." She declared, pre-empting me.

I watched as she left, pulling the t-shirt over her head as she walked towards the dresser. She took a towel from a drawer and disappeared though the door.

I hadn't thought about sex so much since my university days. My hormones were raging like some young teenage virgin looking for his first time. Even with her gone my thoughts were keeping my cock stiff, her in the shower running her hands over that delicious body.

I walked down the corridor, trying the door at the end. This bedroom had the feminine touch, polka dot pink wallpaper, a solid single bed with a flowery cover. I walked to the bathroom door, through it I could hear the water running and her humming a soft tune which I couldn't quite catch.

I eased the handle down and gently pushed on the door. It opened noiselessly. I eased it shut again, leaned against it and closed my eyes. In my mind's eye I conjured her hands washing her breasts, rubbing over her nipple and massaging it as it stood erect.

My cock in my pants was straining to get out. I had an urgent need that sent my hands scrambling to my belt to free it and satisfy that need. My cock spilled out, standing out proud as I bent to push my clothes down, the head darkened as the blood in it throbbed and my cock bobbed.

I held it and spat in my palm and started to gently caress it exalting in 'scratching the itch' and shivering with the thrill coursing down through to my balls. I stepped out of my crumpled clothes pooled round my ankles, heading for the bed.

I sat on the side, my self pleasuring on pause while I stripped my shirt and bent to slip my socks off before lying back on the bed. I licked my palm and held it still while I rubbed my head against it, teasing more pleasure out to the picture of her washing her pussy, her fingers slipping between her plump lips.

Her knock on the door made me jump, scrambling to turn over in case she came in.

"I've finished in the shower," she announced.

I rolled over with relief and launched myself upright.

She opened the door, poking her head and shoulders round as she leaned in.

My hands flew to cover my cock, pressing it firm to my belly.

"Sorry, you didn't answer."

Her face was straight, not a flicker of a betraying crease for me to gage as she looked me in the eye. Then she was gone, it was over so quick like a scene played before me with me playing dumbstruck.

I lay back against the shower wall, pumping my tool as I fantasised that it was her hand clasping it. I relieved myself of my load, letting the water spilling over me carry it down the drain. I showered quickly, and dried myself thoroughly.

Here I was feeling the wheel of fortune spin, I was finishing one of my most bizarre days sleeping across from a girl who liked to go 'au naturel'. Yet I was strangely drawn to her with her seemingly 'care free – deal with it as it comes' outlook.

I awoke with a morning woody laying on my belly, the bedding scrunched nicely round as I lay curled there, chasing the dream as it vanished and left me with a warm glow. I opened my eyes and focused on the pink polka dots, realisation of the why's and what for's came flooding back. I pushed myself to a sitting position, reaching for the phone to check the time. It was seven, give or take, my usual time of waking to go to work. I wondered what time Saffy got up.

My cock was shrinking back down as my bladder made its need known, forcing me to rise. I walked to the door and picked my shorts up from where I'd left them, slipping them on before cautiously opening the door.

It was empty, and I quickly crossed to relieve myself, leaning over the bowl as it came to the dribble.

I needed a shave and to brush my teeth, and fresh clothes to wear, I thought as I stood and flushed, thinking of escape from the house. The machine and my laptop were still in her room, along with my notes on the new clit tickler.

That put paid to any sneaking exit for starters since I would have to face her again, I wondered if she slept nude. I returned to my room and gathered my clothes to dress, still thinking through the events of yesterday. She'd used the machine in front of me as if I never mattered, an invisible servant.

In a way I felt pleased that she had felt safe enough to behave as she did, performing with the machine like a personal porno 'performance'. I also felt a little deflated by the thought that it was all now only a memory.

I walked through the bathroom to her door and knocked, hoping for no answer.

"Come in," came the unwanted reply.

She waited till I reached the bed before she spoke. "You've just thought all this up, all these pages and drawings?"

She lay on the bed with my notes scattered before her, wearing the lacy shorts and nightie top.

"Yes, it may look complicated but it's not. There are three parts, well three parts important to you." I took the pad from her, sitting on the bed to join her. "What's the three best ways to stimulate a clitoris?"

She looked at me.

"Licking, sucking, and rolling and pulling it." I answered my own question.

"Oh, my favourite is rubbing and squeezing it."

Damm! I'd designed it based on what I liked doing, her preferences unknown. Still in the long run this would keep her happy.

"What do you want for breakfast, I can boil an egg."

I was forced to smile, as determined as I was to get out of here, she still enchanted me.

"Saffron, er, how about I have breakfast later, I want to go home and shave and things, change my clothes."

"Could you leave it here while you're gone?" she had that lop-sided girly pout.

"No, I want to go home, cover it up, tinker a bit inside."

"Please," she pleaded.

"I'll bring it back later, if you want," I said, negotiating a way out. I also wanted to look over the notes from last night. I felt pleased at the productive burst. It usually took a few spliffs of ganja to get the creative juices flowing that well and I hadn't smoked that often since uni, only when I really wanted to brainstorm something.

I got away but not before she made me breakfast and extracted a promise to return. A promise I kept some ten hours later.

In the meanwhile I'd used some old velvet curtains from the attic to cover the beast, first using some old cardboard box to give it foundation. I'd not bothered with the remote, I'd have to reprogram it when the new kit went in anyway.

I also spent time looking through parts catalogues, seeing if I could source some of the linkages and drives I needed. Making more detailed blueprints with Autocad, I also realised that I might have to measure her again.

At six I was on her doorstep. I had emailed earlier and she promised me dinner for six. She met me at the door, taking the now ubiquitous black plastic parcel from me. My mechanical beast now had a hide of brown velvet.

"Wait here," she cried as she bounded up the stairs with it. It was only a few moments till she was back down.

"Do you like spag bol?" she asked.

"I haven't heard it called that since school," I answered, with a chuckle in my voice.

"So you'll eat it then?"

"Yes, yes..., it's been ages since I had home cooked."

She looked both pleased and relieved; a smile came to her face.

As we ate Saffy told me about her friends on Facebook, especially her best friend Babs, who was one of the first friends when she'd joined four years ago. She liked to chat in the late afternoon our time, early morning in New York. Babs had told her how to make the spag bol online just now.

I took a close look at her. "Confidentially," she said the word slowly, spread out like she was remembering piece by piece. "Confidentially, she told me to beware of you." Her laugh bubbling from her as she tried to bottle it up.

As my ears picked out the last words, I realised that she was tipsy. The bottle of wine on the counter hadn't gone into the meal, it had gone into her, Dutch courage. With the meal over she retrieved another bottle from the rack and grabbed two glasses.

"Come upstairs, let's look at your little toy," she invited, heading for the door. I grabbed my fresh pad and followed her, her tight little ass performing in front of my face as we climbed to her bedroom.