Tiffany turns the tables

James had delivered to me something I was not capable of imagining only an hour ago. He made me think about what else I could do, how much more I could enjoy. When Harold Conniver has sex with me, I am motionless, beneath him, and at his mercy. But from my research, sex is not always one-sided.

I would show my new user what I could do.

I sat up and ran my hands down his body. My fingers reached under the hem of his shirt and lifted it up and off his young, immature chest.

He kissed me deeply, and I wrapped my lips around his. I tried biting his lower lip, which illicited a quiet moan from his throat.

My hands crawled down to his pants. He assisted me in unlooping his button, and together we pulled his pants and underwear off of his legs.

James' penis was not as expansive in diameter as Harold Conniver's, but it was measurably longer. It stood tall and erect.

"Tiffany..." he said quietly, a nervous quiver in his voice. "I've never-- I'm a virgin."

He clearly expected me to feel something in response to this. But it didn't matter to me. He was willing and able to have sex. His experience was irrelevant, as long as he could make me orgasm like that.

"That's okay, J.R." I purred in an attempt to comfort him. "Just let me take care of everything."

I laid him back on the couch such that his head was propped up on the arm. I swung my legs over him, holding my pelvic frame over his attentive member.

In Harold Conniver's pornographies, the women would, at this stage, tease and toy with their partner as part of their own sexual buildup and foreplay. However, as my arousal systems were artificial and activated on command, this was unnecessary. I reached my hand down from behind me and lifted James' penis up, positioning the tip at the entrance to my sex unit.

I eased myself down, letting him slide inside of my vaginal orifice. With each passing inch, it became more and more challenging to prevent myself from letting out an unprompted, unsimulated moan.

For the first time in my life, I was not being fucked. I was truly having sex.

After a moment, James' entire cock was inside me, the very tip pressing lightly against my artificial cervix.

"Oh my god..." he called out in awe. "You're so warm... and tight."

"And you are very hard." I replied with a real, coy smile.

I began to lift my hips up, holding myself steady with my lateral motors, then letting myself fall down, slowly, onto James' cock. I repeated this motion gently for a few moments, allowing him to learn and enjoy the sensations.

Then, I came down. Hard and fast. I bounced on my user's penis with fervor, the tall sex organ impaling me again and again. His face was flooded with pleasure, but he was strained too, fighting to hold back orgasm.

Noting this, I slowed back down, letting myself come to a rest at his hilt. I leaned down, letting my naked breasts fall onto his chest.

I kissed him. Longingly, passionately. Organically.

My body slid across his. My hips slowly, but roughly, pumped James' dick into my pleading imitation pussy.

For several minutes, we held this position. We pleasured each other like this incessantly. However, his virgin penis could handle no more. He moaned loudly into my mouth as I bit his lip, and I felt the familiar spatter of his semen spraying inside of my, hitting the walls of my crevice and filling my makeshift womb.

This time was different though. The sensation of having long, passionate, caring sex, and the understanding that my actions made this man orgasm, brought me to the edge as well.

My systems shut down, if only for half a moment. I was in shock; I was in limbo; I was in bliss.

The throes of orgasm remained as my network of sexual mechanisms rebooted. I spasms and bucked about in pleasure on top of my lover, before collapsing onto him. Conscious and satisfied.