“But it’s not quite the same, is it?” She smiled gently, interrupting his reverie.
Still his brain burned with the sweetly forbidden notion of this shapely creature sighing, writhing happily before her computer node as her long, slinky hips churned and her fingertips vibrated wet and raspy in a warm, fishy garden that just longed to be touched, prodded, stroked, rubbed… “No,” he agreed at last, a little unsteadily, “it’s not.” He let out his breath, shaking his head. “Not even—” Flushing, he bit his lip.
Again, though, Allison merely signaled him with a gracious sort of gesture of her open white palm.
“N-not even th-the love dolls,” he whispered.
This time the girl did blink in faint surprise. “My goodness,” she said blandly.
“B-b-but it’s not just that,” sputtered Garrett defensively
