Read Cherry Girl Online

Authors: Candy Dance

Cherry Girl (5 page)

BOOK: Cherry Girl
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“Rider, I loved it!”

Rider looked down at Cherry and he saw the unrequited passion in her lavender-tinted eyes as she smiled up at him. “I wasn’t too rough?” he asked, wondering where the hell the questions kept spilling from.

“No,” she murmured in that husky peach-nectar voice of hers. “It was exciting a-and-,”
“And what, baby?” He caressed her cheek.
“I’m wet,” she whispered. “And achy.”

His answering grin was roguish “Fair is fair, sweet thing,” he admitted, then he added, “If you bend over this bench and stick that little butt of yours up in the air, I will show you a new way to eat that sweet pink pussy of yours . . . from behind.”

 

Chapter Eight

 

The next evening Rider prowled the cargo hold as he absently checked the payload, while his thoughts pondered sexual cyborgs. This situation was a phenomenon, all because Cherry was this new virgin model . . . that was why he liked her so well, he decided. All the other sex bots that he’d used had been aggressive, blatant flirts, but sweet little Cherry was biddable in a way that made him feel masterful. Yeah, that was it, he was the master to her passion, and what passion that luscious peach had. Yesterday when he’d plumbed her with his tongue from behind she had whimpered his name so sexily that he’d wished he'd recorded her sexual throes so he could listen to them later. He was hard as a thruster pole right now just thinking about it. Now his problem was how was he going to pop her cherry for the first time? Her first time . . . and his, too.

Hell, he’d never had a virgin before and he was nervous. Nervous? Christ that was crazy, he thought, as he tugged on the crotch of his pants to give his hard dick a little more room. He could not remember the last time he'd walked around with a hard on like he was, acting like a young stallion thinking about humping his first mare.

Rider bent over and thumbed one of the holding straps to check its tightness. “That’s it!” he exclaimed as he straightened and he rubbed a palm over his jaw. “Doggie style,” he continued to mutter. “It probably won’t hurt her as much. It’s got to be better access right?”

He turned to walk distractedly down another line of metal cargo boxes that were strapped down as his thoughts churned. He would get Cherry hot and bothered with a tongue-licking from behind, then he would poke her, quick and fast, before she knew what hit her. “Quick is better, isn’t it?”

Maybe . . . he should take it slow and easy. Or maybe he ought to let her guide the show. He could just put her on top? “Or maybe I ought to be happy and just eat her out for the next five months, twenty-seven days, and six hours,” he grumbled. Then he got a brilliant idea and he decided to go see what the med-log had to say about virgins. When in doubt ask the experts, right?

 

 

Lisette unplugged the portable med-log from the power connector in Rider’s resting chambers, and then she uncrossed her legs to shift them to her side as she sat on the cradle bed. She used her fingers to rub the small of her back where it ached from sitting in the same position too long. She’d been reviewing the med-log for several hours now trying to find information on men and sex. Actually, anything on sexual joining or copulation, as the med-log referred to it. She'd learned a lot of clinical stuff about men . . . certainly interesting; however none of it came close to what she needed to know.
How
to get a man to copulate with her.

“Pumping that precious sperm into my womb
not
my mouth.”

“What were you saying, pudding?”

“Rider!” Lisette screeched, nearly jumping out of the cradle bed with surprise as she quickly remembered to mumble, “Master.” While her mind was working furiously. “Ah . . . ,” she looked up at Rider standing tall and lithe in the open hatchway. His expression held an intense question. Oops! What had she been saying to herself? “Dirty!” she blurted. “I was, . . . uh, practicing to talk . . . ah, d-d- naughty to you, Master.” Lisette hung her head twisting the white lace edges of the baby doll nightie she wore . . . hoping.

“Pumping sperm into your womb, huh?”

Geeze, Lisette thought, no luck at all, he’d heard every word. “Yes, Master. Does this please you?” she mumbled hopefully, finding great interest in her red polished fingernails.

“Molded to my desire, huh?” Rider mumbled so lowly that Lisette barely caught the words, then he said quite clearly. “Only if the naughty things you say are what I teach you.”

“Yes, Master. I should have thought of that.”
“Sex bots thinking could be a criminal disaster.”
“Yes, Master. I won’t think.”
“So let me get this straight. All on your own you thought up talking dirty to me and decided to use the med-log as a reference?”

Lisette puffed a breath of relief for not having to explain why she had the med-log. “That’s it!” she answered happily, lifting her gaze to give Rider a nice smile.

“I’m going to have to get the manual on virgin model cyborgs,” Rider mumbled. “So what’s wrong with your back?” he asked as he came forward to pick up the med-log. “Do you need a diagnostic run . . . some glitch, um?”

“No!” Lisette exclaimed as she jumped up from the bed, from him, and the med-log. “It’s just, uh . . .” She did a sideways scurry toward the hatchway. “Realism in programming,” she mumbled as she went through the hatchway and called a garbled, “Dinner,” over her shoulder before making a quick exit down the companionway.

She never stopped running until she reached the kitchen attachment. Out of breath, she did not stop quickly enough and she stubbed her big toe on the trash ejector. “Ouch!” She hobble-hopped over to the table and she flopped down onto the bench, lifting her foot to see a cut on her big toe that was beginning to bleed.

“Oh no,
evidence
of human corpuscles. Just what I needed. And the cut! How am I going to hide that?” she grumbled, hugging her big toe in her hand as she looked around the chamber for inspiration. The way things were going she’d get caught in her charade before she ever got impregnated, and Rider would eject her from the carrier to become just a splatter in space. It was just that she
had
to get pregnant and now she wanted it to be Rider’s baby. If not for the emptiness of life without a child, she would relax and enjoy this grandest adventure of her life.

“So you want to talk dirty to me, huh?”

Lisette gasped in the split second it took her to realize that it was the carrier’s intercom . . . and not Rider in the chamber with her. “Y-Yes, Master.” Lisette tilted her head back, speaking to the ceiling. It seemed a logical assumption for the disembodied voice’s direction.

“How naughty?”

Lisette thought Rider’s voice sounded an octave lower over the intercom and therefore even more masculine as she stifled the urge to blurt,
Naughty enough to get you to insert your penis into my vaginal cavity.
“Very naughty, Master,” she said instead, considering that at this point she had nothing to lose.

“Did you, er, . . . learn anything productive to naughty conversation from the med-log?”
Lisette considered this for a minute, pursing her lips. “Perhaps,” she offered after long moments of thought.
“Try it on me.”
“Ah . . .” Lisette mumbled looking upward at the ceiling faithfully.
“Use your imagination . . . Well, just try it.”

Lisette licked her lips and let her foot fall to the deck forgotten. She told herself sternly that she wanted to get impregnated and therefore must be brazen. She wished for a large glass of water, then she blurted, “My vaginal walls are excreting lubrication in readiness for your penis to rub against and, ah, . . . insert in me,” she ended on a squeak. Rider sounded on the other end of the intercom as though he could be choking. Choking back his laughter! She was mortified. “I can’t do it, Master,” she wailed.

“Of course you can,” Rider’s voice assured her immediately, although the fluctuation still sounded suspiciously tight with amusement. “First we should name a few things,” his voice told her. “We will call your vagina and surrounding area a peach. Now what will you name mine?”

Lisette was at a loss as she looked at her feet. Big toe? She glanced at the table leg. Third leg? Her gaze scanned the clear containers of food on the shelves opposite where she was sitting. He seemed to prefer food? “A long . . . juicy . . . pickle!” she said with delight, completely sure that Rider would love . . .

“A pickle! You compare my big long cock to a pickle?”

Lisette came to her feet with her hands on her hips as she spoke defiantly to the ceiling. “The ones that I’m looking at right now are big. They are huge! I could not get an entire one into my mouth.”

“That big, pudding?”
“Yes, of course,” Lisette fumed, tapping her bare foot on the deck.
“Are you sure?”
“Sure of what, Master?” Lisette asked in vexation.

“Sure that you cannot get one entirely into your mouth? I recall that you took my entire pickle into that sweet hot mouth of yours . . . all the way up to my plums.”

Lisette suddenly felt hot, as she exclaimed, “I suckled on those plums too, Master!”

“Oh, yeah, Cherry-girl, I remember. Vividly. Shall we call your breasts ripe melons and your nipples raspberries?”

Lisette squirmed where she stood, remembering suddenly that she promised not to touch her peach without permission. “I am beginning to sound like a fruit salad, Master, and I wish to call your backside hams. Hard hams.”

Rider’s answering chuckle was deep and thrilling. “Do you like my hard hams, pudding?”

Lisette thought she could be breathing heavily. “Yes, Master, they are tight and muscular . . . a-and I love to feel them in my hands.”

“A butt woman, huh?”
“Yes. I suppose I could watch them all day. But I love your eyes, too. Maybe even more,” Lisette whispered.
“My eyes?”

Lisette thought Rider sounded strange, bewildered perhaps, as she tilted her head back more closing her eyes and dreamily she pictured Rider’s eyes. “Oh yes, your eyes are like an inky black river of fire. Molten . . . like hot black silk running through my fingers. Scorching down my arms and dripping warm rivulets over my breasts and pooling in a hot puddle around my peach.”
Oh, she wanted to touch herself . . .
better, she wanted Rider to touch her.

“Black silk, Cherry-girl?”

Lisette’s eyes popped open. It was Rider standing beside her gloriously naked with his penis jutting outward with stiff masculine potency. “Yes,” she whispered as his mouth came down over her lips and he sucked the breath right out of her. She was certain it was going to happen this time!

Rider had his mouth full of Cherry-girl’s lips and tongue, when suddenly the space carrier beneath their feet tilted sideways from its central axis. If not for his quick reactions they both would have been dumped into the radiator ovens.

“Hoo-rah! The Kid’s coming home to Daddy, start breaking out the beer!” blared a man’s voice from the intercom speakers all around them.

“Shit.” Rider expelled the sound as his lips hovered a breath away from Cherry’s swollen and very kissed lips.

“I got a drop dead gorgeous redheaded sex bot, old man, with legs that reach to heaven. What do you got?” the disembodied voice boomed around them.

“Ah . . .,” Rider hedged before he unwillingly admitted, “A blond baby doll!”

“Hoo! Rah!” the voice exclaimed.

 

Chapter Nine

 

Lisette did not like the man named, Kid, at all. He was tall, lank, and pale-skinned with spiked, dirty blond hair and a missing front tooth. Kid’s sexual bot was just as crass with brassy red hair and an over-endowed body of astonishing proportions. Her breasts alone had to be E cups or more! Her waist was small, but her bottom was so plump and curvaceous that her butt cheeks stuck out indecently from beneath the fluorescent pink mini-shorts she wore. “Pumpkin,” wore only tassels on her nipples as a top. What a name for a sexual bot, Lisette thought. But the Kid’s intelligence was in question.

Lisette thought that being dressed in only a skimpy baby doll nightie with pink panties and her pink ankle boots did not help her own anxiousness over this unexpected visit. She was completely embarrassed at her near-nude condition as Kid ogled her while she stood behind Rider. Rider sat in a swivel chair across a round Rec-table from Kid, and Lisette watched as Pumpkin flirted outrageously with him. A, Rider, whom she might add, seemed to eat up every minute of Pumpkin’s flirtatious gyrations.

The two men were drinking retro-beer, smoking cigarillos, and telling more outrageous tales by the minute. But it was then that something truly alarming happened.

“You just let me pop her cherry, Rider, old buddy. Give me, say, an hour alone with her and I will give you the carburetor.” Kid leaned back with a lanky slouch and a sly grin. “Just think, old buddy, you will finally get that Mustang of yours actually running. You will never get another deal like this in a lifetime.”

Lisette watched Kid grin up at her lecherously. A Mustang? What was a Mustang? And did he mean to pop her . . . Oh, no! Lisette turned her gaze to Rider who looked grim, nearly angry somehow. What was he angry about?

“For just
one
hour?” Rider hissed.

“Yeah, buddy,” Kid answered. “One hour with your virgin model here and the carburetor is yours. You can even have Pumpkin here for a good fucking while you’re waiting.”

Lisette watched anxiously as Rider looked up at her. He was glaring. “Yeah,
take
her,” he exclaimed. “And you can keep her! I’ve wanted a Mustang carburetor my whole life,” he bit out fiercely, glaring at her. “Take the lying witch!” he exclaimed.

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