Virgin enthusiasm

A light in James' eyes erupted.

He gripped my shirt over my breasts and pulled. The remaining buttons tore from their loops, and my chest exposed itself to my new user's youthful gaze.

His face leaned in, letting his mouth fall onto my neck. He sucked and licked and bit at my skin, blissfully unaware of the truth of my inorganic flesh.

The boy's hands clasped around my mammary units, his nearly-developed hands a perfect size for the firm swells on my frame. The sleeves of my shirt began to fall down my arms as his hands more aggressively explored my shape.

Through all of this, the sensors all across and underneath my dermis were alight. James was far more passionate than Harold Conniver. My systems were flooded with simulated pleasure.

But I was experiencing real pleasure.

His lips came up and met with mine. His tongue swirled inside my mouth, prompting my own replica to mirror it. His whole body pressed into mine, inviting me to lean back into the couch.

I expected at this point for James to remove his own clothes and take me. Instead, he excitedly, but with attention and care, pulled my shorts and underwear down and off my legs. He kissed my toes.

He kissed my knees. Lightning shot through me, and my systems ran in an attempt to process these illogical and unforeseen behaviors, while I attempted to ignore these systems and feel the pleasure build.

He kissed my inner thighs. My vaginal orifice's lubrication dripped onto the couch beneath me. My hands were subconsciously drawn to my artificial breasts. All of my analytics struggled to understand how I even could be subconsciously driven to do anything.

His wet, organic lips came into contact with the labia of my sex facsimile. I squeezed my fleshy components in my palms.

His tongue slid up and down the interior edges of the hole. My fingers pinched the erect nipples which crowned my heaving chest.

My clitoris indicated a sharp pleasure as his teeth gently scraped its sensor.

Somehow, I let out a moan.

Harold Conniver had never done this to me before.

"J.R... that feels amazing." I said, my vocal complex laboring.

He muffled something into my pussy in gratitude. The motors in my legs bucked my hips up onto his mouth. His tongue drove into me.

All internal networks spiked, then fell and ultimately shut down for a brief, exhilarating moment.

I experienced an orgasm unlike any simulation Harold Conniver's designs could have fabricated.

My user removed his head from between my legs. I looked at him dumbfounded as my body finished its reboot procedures.