Page 29 of Boo-ty Calls
Even as I drive her crazy, I do have empathy and don’t want to make her lose her mind entirely.
Leaving the office, I head to the kitchen and move things around to remind her about her pills and to eat at some point. I’d love to be able to cook for her, but every attempt hasn’t worked. Ingredients fall on the floor, my fingers slip through the knobs on the stove, and the heat works against me. It’s always cold.
Climbing the stairs, I think about how to mess with her more. She senses my presence, but also doesn’t. Sloane talks to me constantly, but follows it with how crazy she is. I don’t think she knows I’m still hanging around, or that I watch everything she’s doing.
I’m proud of her for seeking out Mason, and I’m impressed with the dedication to have me watch even if it’s with googly eyes.
Although there has been no one new, I hope she doesn’t sit around and let her life pass by because of me dying. As muchas I love her, I want her to find a new love and happiness with someone else.
“Do you like that?” her husky voice asks as I enter the bedroom.
Sloane is on the bed with one of our dildos suctioned to the top of my box of ashes. Of course I fucking like it, but I have to wonder if she lost the ashes could she move on.
Enjoying the view of her straddling the fake cock and squeezing her tits, my dick hardens.
She slowly sinks onto the length and moves up and down with her head back, her pink hair cascading, and I want nothing more than to ravish her.
I move over to the Fellow. Whispering into it, which works the way I want it to, after many failed attempts, I’m glad it’s working right now.
“Tweak your nipples, you know how much you love it,” the monotone voice rings out.
She snaps her attention to the circle glowing on the dresser, but lust is written across her face, and she takes her hands off her tits to pinch her nipples. Sloane moans, and rocks on the fake cock attached to my remains.
Her wetness pools on the base of the toy, and by her little moans, I know she’s getting closer, the flush of pink skin and shorter breaths.
“Rub your clit, cum all over that hard dick.” Monotone is less than sexy, but she doesn’t seem to mind.
Running her hands over the front of her body until she reaches her clit and rubs gently, falling forward, her otherhand claws at the sheets and Sloane thrusts back until she screams out.
“Don’t stop, do it again.”
She sits upright and lifts her legs into a squat before riding the cock. I want to be between her thighs, cleaning her arousal as the wetness squelches in the room.
Stepping forward, I rub my dick. Sloane’s eyes close as she pleasures herself, rubbing her clit harder. She groans before shooting up and squirting over the sheets.
Unloading on the same sheet, I leave the room for her to clean and for the Fellow to stop picking up my voice.
It would be a lot better if my spunk didn’t suddenly glow in the dark. I wasn’t given permission to get off, but it’s been too long, and I can’t hold out forever.
As she enters the kitchen, I open the cupboard for her favourite snacks, and she doesn’t even question the water on the floor anymore. I could learn to put it on the counter, but it seems fitting to stay consistent.
Sloane takes her pills and eats a granola bar, hardly enough to qualify as dinner, but I let it go for now. She walks around the house naked, checking that everything is locked before heading to the bedroom.
As I putter around cleaning the best I can, the giant horror figure she got me last year catches my attention, and I know what I’ll be getting up to tonight.
Thirteen
Sloane
Ilie in bed, not wanting to get up.
After last night, I have to assume I’m either being haunted, or I got a pervy Fellow machine. The voice was the least sexy thing ever, but the words reminded me of Archer. I’ve lost my mind. Cool, I’m a wacko now.
Rolling over, I let out a shrill scream as the horror figure I got last year stands next to the bed. “Fuck you, Archer. That wasn’t funny at all.”
Although the fear was fleeting, I’m annoyed and won’t bother to take the thing back downstairs, I push it over to the corner of the room and throw a shirt over its head.
I can’t deal with it now. It’s a later-Sloane problem. Warmth spreads through my chest, I’m glad he’s still here.
