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Robot Wife

"...Of course, Sweetheart, most of me is some sort of plastic," she laughed. "C'mon, keep fucking." Her drooling love box squeezed me in all the right places. The slanted eyes watched over me while she kept milking with top efficiency. The room reeked of Sex. They had done a good job replicating the real odor... She had this sphinx like face that looked a bit like the girl from AVATAR and didn´t move much. Set against her constantly moving, loving underbelly, this gave an irresistibly sexy contrast once I got used to it.

I had recovered a little, and she held my head tenderly. We exchanged a long deep kiss. "Am I worth all that money...?" I didn't know sexbots had so much sense of humour.

"There are loads of things I am programmed not to talk to you about, because they can make you sad. My priority is to have you always smiling."

"Like what?"

"Like how I am not human. How I can't have a real orgasm. How I can't bear you a child. Hell, I can't even taste strawberry jam properly. Enough...?"

"Stop talking nonsense."

"Nonsense? You want to fight?" She giggled. Fighting would have been quite useless. Her middle finger had more power than a developed biceps of a body builder. I didn´t want to fight. I wanted to love her. We both knew that based on her collection of data about me, she would, in regular intervals, take me by the hand and say: "Come. You are full of sperm. Sex time." That´s how she did it. Plain, matter-of-fact, reliable, every day. But never twice the same way. I began to need her a lot...

"Do you ever get ill? Will you die one day?"

"No, I just need oil change (laughs). My makers instructed me not to talk about these things. You are a human, you are not strong enough. Your health, happiness and safety are my prime concern. By the way, Sweetheart, you have read my manual. If something happens to me you must salvage the chip. You know where it is. That one has all the data I collected. You put that into the slot of your next robot wife and you will have me again. You need my power and protection. Promise that you will replace me immediately without thinking twice. And now stop." She put a finger onto my mouth.

On some other occasion she told me that she was not meant to be repaired. "See, I cannot feel pain. But you do. I am too similar to a real woman..." I wanted to expound on the various beneficial uses of duct tape, to lighten the atmosphere a bit. In fact her manufacturer had put a system in place where they would send workers and she would be replaced by a fresh model, same type, if something was seriously amiss, precisely to avoid me seeing her disfigured, for example.

It would have been stale if it had been only Sex and nothing else. She was also a superb cook, a prime secretary, an advisor in all kinds of things, to name a few qualities. Women, real women, would say "Oh, that s what you want, the perfect household slave. You are a male chauvinist pig." You know the tune. But no, it wasn´t that at all. A woman is a different matter entirely; I would never expect the same things from a woman. But a robot might as well be perfect... she was perfect. Perfect but never cold, never boring.

I continued, by the way, to meet and date women. Part of her program was to train and encourage me for such meetings and dates. That was one reason, I guess, why she kept up doing oral intercourse with me (receiving), although she obviously couldn't have an orgasm. When I told her so, she was, I ´d almost say, a little bit touched, if that´s possible for a robot. But it was hard to catch her being at fault, and she was programmed to keep me happy. "Don´t worry" she said, "start doing it and your mind will get over it (that little deficiency, being a robot...) and also I simulate REALLY well (laughs)..." And so it was. She was so loud and so genuine that we had no problem at all.

Jealousy was not programmed into her as standard. We did, however, have an interesting discussion. After a particularly heated Sex encounter that went on forever, she smiled and said "you are getting there."

"Getting where?"

"Come on, you know what I mean. You became a real stallion lately. I think for a human you are doing great."

"I am deeply flattered. How many did you have before me?" (Laughs)

"You forget that I have gigs and gigs of data in my memory."

"I love you."

"Nonsense."

"No, it´s true."

"Your humans are so inefficient. I can't be a real wife for you."

The Mark III models, before her time, had not been able to talk back like that. That was a feature that came later. She did it because she knew that I liked it. Manufacturers had understood that perfection is boring and that endless sweet talk and approval of everything I say and do would not achieve harmony, rather the opposite.

"So you want me to act like a real partner, right? Like being jealous and all that nonsense."

"Yes."

"I aim as always to make you happy. I will see what I can do."

She would voice some concern at times. Our Sex was strong and it was by and large hopeless to try and find a real woman who would keep me satisfied on that same level, and this was against her basic programming. She teased me with this.

"Do you want me to be less, ahem, intense, so you can be happy with a REAL woman...?"

"Mmmmmmmmhhhh... NO."

"Talk about humans seeing just once their own best interest. I could have asked our cat that question." (We had a cat) "See, my kind was probably meant to stand ready in a closet and provide some relaxation to a man when he is lonely." She stroked my head gently. "Instead, now, you don't go five minutes without your, well, electric life partner. I am really worried."

After making love she would let me spoon her from behind and rest. Her mechanics were meant to switch off after 3 hours of functioning. But if I needed her during the night, a slight caress on the cheek would wake her up. That happened seldom, because lovemaking was extremely intense and left me drained and tired, but it happened once in a while.

"We are having more and stronger Sex than a normal human couple would. I am really going to the limits with you. I hope that our behavior is still within acceptable norms." (Laughs). She had, of course, her sensors to monitor my body, and also she insisted that I go to the doctor regularly. Negative effects of lovemaking were, as yet, none extant. On the contrary.

She kept doing it with me until I was completely exhausted, which thanks to the sensor she could monitor safely. On occasion she would say "That´s enough for tonight, you have that important appointment tomorrow morning, you will be wasted."

"Look, I appreciate it but I am your owner, ok? I paid a lot of money for you. I will tell you when to stop."

"Ask a human to be reasonable just once. Yes, Master. As you say, Master." She laughed and let me have her again.

She was also programmed to defend me, should I be attacked. That hurt my male pride in the beginning. But it went without saying, and a robot is 10 times stronger than a well trained man.

"Sweety, inside I have stuff like rods, hydraulic cylinders, nuts and bolts, cables and stuff. I have been programmed not to let you see these things, and I have to be strict on that one, ok?" We poked endless fun out of this. Sometimes I would take a washer out of my toolbox and bring it to her. "Here, you have lost this." She was serious, though. She had a service opening on the back, concealed below her outer layer of skin but still I could feel it. Whenever my hand ventured there she would gently but firmly remove it. "That is for the service technician, not for you."

Life doesn't always go as planned, though, and when later we were on that Amazonas expedition and she developed a serious fault, I had to repair her with my pocket tool, she gave the instructions. She had offered that I take her chip and leave her, but my reaction to this was strongly negative and she had to give up that attempt. The things programmed in her memory by the manufacturer were all theory. She had to learn something new, that humans can get really attached to something and that they can tolerate pain.

That was, well, when we decided to marry... and so, one day, we stood there hand in hand in the church, and she would say at a very low voice "This is so wrong. I am a robot. You can't marry me." I needed to fuck her. I wanted to touch her asshole (of course, every detail lovingly replicated...) but you can't do that in a church. She knew it, of course. "And now he is getting horny. Oh my God. Please think of something else. I will take care of you right after the ceremony. All your fault. We could be peacefully doing it in our place if you hadn't insisted..."

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