The Blow-n-Go

"Oh! Oh, God!" Ed roared as he supported his bulky weight with his forearms and furiously thrust into the petite woman beneath him. Beads of sweat covered his forehead and his face turned a crimson red. "Oh, God! I can't hold out much longer! I'm gonna bust!"

His guttural bellow shook the dust off the knick-knacks on the bedside table. He held himself in place for a moment, and after several violent shudders, he rolled off of his wife and collapsed beside her.

"Ho-lee nutbusts!" he said, gasping for air. "I think I blacked out for a second there! I must have broken a brain vessel or something. I'm seeing spots! Are you seeing spots?"

"Nope," Nancy responded, dabbing her face and body with a tissue, "I think it's just you, big guy."

Still panting, Ed turned on the light beside the bed and looked at his wife. "I mean, that was amazing, right? I thought I held out long enough for you to finish. You did finish?"

Nancy shrugged. "Yeah, sort of."

"Sort of?" Ed repeated. "What does that mean? Either you finished or you didn't."

"I had a little one, I guess," she said. She then smiled and patted him on the shoulder. "You did good, stud muffin."

"Well, wait a minute," he said. "This seems a little uneven. I don't need my woman roaming the streets without being completely satisfied."

"Your woman?" she said with a raised eyebrow. "Settle down, Tarzan."

"Come on, let me finish you properly. With the kids out of the house now, you can make all the noise you want. I'll get the Black and Decker."

The "Black and Decker" was Ed's nickname for Nancy's vibrator, which he insisted had the horsepower of a power sander.

"No, it's okay," she said, grabbing his arm. "I'm fine, really."

"Jeez, you won't let me use Ol' Reliable, and you won't let me go down on you. I'm just trying to help you out here, Nan."

"Right, your head isn't getting anywhere near there," she said, waving her hand over her crotch. "Remember what happened last time."

"Jesus, Nan, that was how many years ago? One tiny little fart, and you'll never forget it."

"It was humiliating," she said.

"Hey, if feeling a little breeze on my chin whiskers every now and then is the price I have to pay for keeping my lady satisfied, then dammit, I'll do it."

"I'm fine," she chuckled. "I'm satisfied. You completely satisfy me, okay?"

He peered at her for a moment. "What's the problem? Does all of this not turn you on anymore?" He rubbed his bulging belly in his best impersonation of a male stripper.

"You are ridiculous," she said, "but I still love you." She gave him a sweet kiss and turned away from him.

***

The following Friday afternoon, Ed sat at his desk in his cubicle and stared at a spreadsheet. He was just about to check the time when his pal Artie appeared.

"Hey, you hungry?" Artie asked, draping his arms over the cubicle wall. He wore a ridiculous-looking Hawaiian shirt. Artie always made a habit of stretching the boundaries of TechCorp's "casual Friday" policy.

Ed turned around and raised his eyebrow. "Is that a serious question? Does a plumber lay pipe? That's like asking Pepe LePew if he's horny."

Artie snorted. "Please tell me you brought your chili."'

"Of course," Ed replied. "I have to defend my title! It's been sitting in a crockpot in the conference room all morning, just waiting for you."

"Then what the hell are we waiting for?" Artie said. "That chili's not gonna eat itself."

"No," Ed retorted, "but if you're not careful, Frank's ghost pepper chili will eat you from the inside-out."

The two co-workers hurried toward the conference room where several crockpots were lined along the furthest wall. Each crockpot had a sticky note with a number affixed to it. A plastic fishbowl on another table was half-filled with folded sticky notes of various colors. Each of the men grabbed a small plastic cup and a plastic spoon and proceeded to sample from each pot of chili, one after another.

"Well," Artie said, "I can tell which one is yours, but I have to say the nod goes to number three this time. Sorry, buddy."

"No worries," Ed said. "I'm not in this for the fame or glory - or even the $5 gift card for the coffee shop that goes to the winner. No, I do this for the pleasure of providing excellent food for my friends and co-workers."

"What a generous guy!" Artie said, clapping him on the back.

Just then, a young man entered the room and looked around in confusion. "Hey, new guy!" Artie called to him. The young man smiled and joined them. "Ed, this here is Paulie. He just started this week."

"Paul," the young man said, extending his hand toward Ed.

"Paulie, I'm glad you could make it," Artie continued. "See, we have this chili-cooking contest about once a month, and Ed here is practically the reigning—aw, shit." The color drained from Artie's face and his expression instantly morphed as if he had just peeled back the adhesive on an infant's dirty diaper.

Both Ed and Paul followed Artie's line of vision to see what had caused this sudden mood change. Ed's expression instantly mimicked his friend's and he shook his head slowly and groaned. Marching down the hallway toward the conference room was a gangly woman wearing what appeared to be a man's business suit. She had a bow-legged gait, as if she were a cowboy who had spent all morning rustling cattle. There were no visible curves to her figure, and she wore a humorless expression on her grotesque face. She marched with purpose, and was trailed by two assistants who hurried to catch up with her.

"Well, if it isn't Beavis and Butthead," she sneered, looking from Ed to Artie. "Escaped from your mother's basement again, I see." The assistants snorted. "And who's this?" she asked, turning to Paul.

"I'm Paul," he responded, extending his hand. "I just started—"

"Are you a wannabe chili chef like these two losers?" the woman spat. Paul slightly retreated. Her breath smelled like low tide.

"N—no," Paul stammered. "I'm just here to eat."

"Well, I hope you brought your barf bag," the woman snarled. She pushed past the three men, went straight to the end of the conference table, and held out her hand impatiently while one of her assistants hustled to fetch her a cup and spoon.

"Okay," Paul whispered, "who the hell is that?"

"Her name is Pamela Kuntz," Artie said, "but she likes to be called Pammy. She works in the legal department. She's pretty much the most despicable person you'll ever encounter. " Ed nodded in agreement.

"Disgusting!" Pammy shouted after sampling the first bowl of chili. "Completely flavorless. The texture was execrable. I suppose whoever made this thinks he's quite the gourmet, huh? Yeah, inspiring use of green peppers there, Chef Boyardee. One star."

An assistant quickly placed a shiny gold star on the side of the crockpot while the other assistant hastily scribbled Pammy's review onto a small sheet of paper and taped it to the side of the crockpot.

"Is she like the judge or something?" Paul asked.

"Nope," Artie said.

"Ugh!" Pammy shouted. "This looks and smells like cat vomit! Whoever made this should be put out of their misery, Old Yeller style!" The assistants chortled.

"Okay, then what's with the stars?" Paul asked. "And the sticky note comments? If she's not the judge, then why would anyone care what she thinks? And what is she so pissy about? It's free food."

"She gets off on being pissy," Artie noted. "Like, literally. I think she gets sexually excited about insulting people."

"No one knows why she does it," Ed added. "She just does it to be an asshole, I guess."

"Sad," Paul said, shaking his head.

"Yeah, well, it's one of the perks of working for TechCorp, Paulie," Artie said, patting him on the back. "Come on, let's get out of here. We can come back later after she's gone."

At the end of the workday, Artie reappeared at Ed's cubicle with Paul in tow. "Hey," he said, "I'm taking the new guy out for a beer to celebrate his first week. Wanna come?"

Ed checked his cellphone. "I don't know. I should probably get home. Nancy's probably got plans for us."

Artie made a whipping motion, complete with sound effects, causing Paul to chuckle.

"Really?" Ed said. "What are you, like, fifteen? You really think that'll work on me?"

Artie continued his mimicry, only louder and more enthusiastically. He was beginning to attract the attention of the other office workers.

"Jesus, fine!" Ed snapped. "Just put a lid on the Indiana Jones routine, okay?"

Artie smiled and entered Ed's cubicle. He bent down low so that he could whisper near his ear. "I'm gonna take him to this new place. Just opened. It's called the 'Blow-n-Go.' Ever hear of it?"

Ed scowled and shook his head.

Artie looked around nervously. "You ever hear of those blowjob bars they have in Thailand?"

Another shake of his head.

"They have these places where guys go to get a drink and a blowjob. It's an actual thing. I'm not shitting you. You just walk in the door, pay a little chunk of change, grab a beer, get some head, and walk out relaxed and refreshed."

"Seriously?" Ed whispered. "That's insane."

"Oh, it gets even weirder," Artie said with a laugh. "See, this rich old guy wanted to bring that concept here, but of course we have laws against that sort of thing. So get this: he bought a bunch of robots that give head!"

"Okay, now I know you're joking," Ed said.

"I'm fucking serious, man! If you don't believe me, you will soon enough!"

Ed was dumbfounded when he walked into the Blow-n-Go with his two co-workers. The brightly-lit bar featured several tables serviced by scantily-clad waitresses and a long "U"-shaped bar that spanned the entire wall on the right side of the floor. The three men simply stood at the entrance for a moment, gawking, when they were interrupted by a bubbly young hostess, who led them to a table.

"Welcome, gentlemen!" the hostess exclaimed. "First time here?"

They all nodded mutely.

"A waitress will come along shortly to take your drink orders," she said. "She'll explain everything to you. Enjoy, gentlemen!"

They all turned to watch her ass as she wriggled back toward the hosting station. They scanned the bar in stunned silence as music blared and the bustling crowd of men spoke in loud voices all around them.

"You'll never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy," Artie intoned with a nasally British accent.

Eventually, a waitress appeared and took their order. Ed reached for the small tablet propped up on the table and began to swipe through various options.

"Ah, I see you noticed our automated selection system," she noted.

"A.S.S.?" Artie said. "Seriously?"

"Just find one you like and place your order," she continued with a polite smile. "When your model is free, you'll be escorted to the bar."

Ed nodded politely and then looked at his two friends. "They all have different looks and different...err, skill sets," he explained.

"Yeah?" Artie said. "Which one are you picking?"

Ed placed the tablet on the table and pushed it away from him. "Oh, no. I'm only here to observe," he said. "You kidding me? Nancy would kill me!"

"Why would she care?" Artie asked. "It's not like you'd be cheating on her. It's a freakin' robot, man!"

"Yeah, well, she wouldn't see it that way," Ed noted.

"Oh yeah?" Artie responded after taking a healthy sip from his mug. "Let me ask you something. And I'm sorry, I know this is personal. Does Nancy use any...you know, toys...in bed?"

Ed frowned. "What are you getting at? You think I don't deliver the goods?"

"Oh, I have no doubt that you can't," Artie said. "But that doesn't matter. Everyone uses them. Hell, Sandra uses one. I have no problem with that. Less work for me!"

Ed shook his head and sighed. "Okay, yeah, sure. She may have a toy...or two. So what?"

"Well, then, what's the difference?" Artie asked. "She uses a piece of plastic to get excited, right? Well, that's all these robots are, right? Plastic. Or maybe silicone. I really don't know. But they definitely aren't human!"

Ed took a sip of beer and contemplated his friend's increasingly-logical point. There really wasn't much of a difference when he really thought about it. The ol' Black and Decker was a machine just like those robots. If Nancy could use her machine to get off, why couldn't he?

"Fuck it," he said. He grabbed the ordering device, scrolled through a few screens, and placed his order.

He was halfway through his second beer when a hostess approached the table. She led him to the bar where several men sat in a row, awkwardly staring straight ahead. The hostess directed him to an empty seat, which was shaped like a "U", and advised him to lower his pants and underwear before sitting. She turned away quickly to give him privacy.

Ed looked around before lowering his pants to his ankles. "I feel like an idiot," he mumbled to himself. He quickly lowered his boxers and slid into his seat. It was more comfortable than he imagined. The bar top was far taller than most bars, and there were dividing walls between each barstool, which prevented him from seeing what was happening to the man on either side.

His entire package was exposed through the opening in the "U". His heart pounded, and he began having second thoughts about what he was doing. Just as he felt the urge to bolt from his seat, the carousel of doors behind the bar spun and then stopped.

The door directly in front of him opened, and a perfectly-proportioned doll wearing the same skimpy uniform as the waitresses appeared. Although she was clearly a robot, he had to admit it was a realistic-looking robot. She was seated in a chair in a natural pose, staring blankly ahead. She had long dark hair and blue eyes. Ed had chosen her because she most resembled his wife, and therefore it wouldn't feel as much like cheating.

The sexbot glided toward him on a rail and disappeared under the bar. He could feel a jostling between his thighs. Then he felt a surprisingly warm and soft mouth on the head of his cock. The mouth traveled to the base of his cock and then stopped. He could feel its nose nestled in his pubic hair. Warm, slick fluid surrounded his dick and a simulated tongue swirled around the base. Then the suction began in a rhythmic pattern, followed by a soft humming-like vibration.

"Jesus," he whispered to the guy next to him. "I feel like my dick is in the rinse cycle of the washer." His neighbor ignored him.

Almost instantly, Ed felt fully-erect. The mouth on his cock began traveling to the tip and then returning to the base. Over and over again. Faster and faster. The swirling tongue and gentle vibration grew more and more intense. He closed his eyes and savored the sensation. His cock throbbed inside the sexbot's mouth as it continued to bob along his shaft at a rapid pace.

He couldn't hold out any longer. When the torrent was unleashed, the sexbot quickly sank her nose into his pubic hair and held that position, applying extra suction. It took all of his willpower not to scream in ecstasy. Instead, he gritted his teeth and gripped the barstool. The suction slowly decreased, and the bobbing continued, only at a slower and gentler pace than before. Then, he felt it detach, and he could feel his completely-drained unit dangle between the "U" once more.

The sexbot became visible again as it backed away, back though the open door from which it came, and disappeared inside. Ed rose from the barstool and nearly fell over as he pulled up his boxers and pants. With weak legs, he stumbled back to the table to join his co-workers.

"That didn't take long," Artie said with a chuckle.

"That...was pretty amazing," Ed said. His face was flush, and he was breathing heavily. "I just had sex with a robot. And I think I liked it!"

***

Over the few weeks, the guys at TechCorp made it a weekly Friday ritual to stop by the Blow-n-Go on the way home from work. Ed thought it would be best not to mention these visits to Nancy. Although she probably wouldn't care either way, there was no reason to risk getting into a big argument over it.

Everything was going fine until one Friday evening when Ed, Artie, and Paul strolled out of the Blow-n-Go and walked straight into the midst of a mob of protesters.

"Pigs!" one rather fat and ugly woman screamed at them.

"Perverts!" another equally-homely woman shouted.

"Blow-n-NO!" one sign read.

"Blow-n-Go Objectifies Women!" read another.

The three men pushed their way through the crowd to get to the parking lot. They had nearly made it to the edge of the crowd when one particularly-angry-looking woman stepped directly in front of Ed. It was his wife, Nancy.

She glared at him for a moment. Ed was frozen on the spot, his mouth agape. He began to speak, but before he could utter a word, she turned on her heels and bolted away.

"Oh, Lucyyyyy!" Artie said in his worst Cuban accent. "You have some 'splainin' to do!"

Paul placed a consoling hand on Ed's shoulder. "See you on Monday, pal. Good luck."

On the drive home, Ed's mind reeled as he devised a plan of defense. By the time he arrived at his front door, he was confident in his plan. He strolled through the front door and was met face-to-face with Nancy, who was still seething. She stood with her arms crossed, tapping her foot impatiently.

"What. The. Holy. Mother. Of. Fuck?" she spat.

Ed smiled uncomfortably. "Hi, honey," he croaked.

"Don't 'hi, honey' me!" she shouted. "Seriously, what the fuck, Ed? How could you do this to me? Sex with a fucking robot? Have you lost your mind?!"

"What's the big deal?" Ed said with a shrug. He moved past her toward the refrigerator and grabbed a beer. "It's just a robot. A little harmless fun with the guys."

"Harmless fun?" Nancy repeated. "Do you know how embarrassing it is to know your husband is having sex with a robot?"

"Well, technically, it isn't sex," Ed said.

"Don't give me that Bubba Clinton bullshit."

"Okay, well, listen. How is it any different than you having sex with the Black and Decker?"

"Because my vibrator doesn't have a fucking face attached to it!" she shouted.

"Okay, so would it make you feel better if I draw a face and tape it onto Ol' Reliable? Seriously, what difference does it make?"

Nancy stood for a moment and glared at him. He could almost see the machinery turning in her brain. "And you don't think this place is demeaning to women?"

"What women?" he asked. "They're fucking robots! They don't care if they're being demeaned."

Nancy shook her head. "I just...I can't believe you. If you see nothing wrong with this, then why didn't you tell me about it?"

"I didn't think it was important," he responded. "Do you tell me every time you get a mani-pedi?"

"Mani-pedi? What on earth does that have to do with anything?"

"Well, you have strangers massaging your feet, giving you pleasure, right? At least the stranger giving me pleasure wasn't a human being!"

"And you don't see the difference between a foot massage and a blowjob?" she countered. "Are you kidding me right now?"

"I...I just think you're making a big deal of this for no reason."

Nancy shook her head. He could see her eyes moistening, and he walked over to her and took her in his arms. "Listen, I'm sorry. I didn't know it would upset you this much. Hell, I thought I was doing you a favor. One less time you'd have to worry about taking care of my needs. Less work for you, right? I won't ever go back there again, I promise."

"No, it's okay," she said, pushing away from him. "Everything is fine. You're right; it's not a big deal. You can do whatever you want to do."

With that, she turned and hurried up the stairs toward their bedroom.

***

"Everything still quiet on the Western front?" Artie asked, his arms draped over Ed's cubicle wall.