Yep.
I’m distracted all right. So overstimulated by hormones, in fact, that I go into ovarydrive in an eyeblink.
“What kind of a lesson did you have in mind?” I whisper.
He crooks his finger. “Follow me.”
Heart in my throat, I comply.
Not surprisingly, he leads me into his bedroom.
“One second.” He takes two bulky bundles out of his closet and sets them down on the giant bed, then unrolls them.
I frown at the gloves and headgear attached to the jumpsuit-like things. “What are those?”
“VR suits,” he says. “I thought you’d be familiar with them. They’re the result of a project your twin was working on.”
I blink in surprise. I know exactly what he’s talking about. The suits were designed by Holly’s new bestie—she of the box of dildos.
The moment I heard about these, I loved the idea. The suits let you have realistic sexual experiences without touching anyone. It’s like they were made with me in mind. Getting one has been on my wish list for when I have money to spare, especially since VR is one of the best ways to do exposure therapy.
Except, how does he have them?
“These aren’t available to the general public yet,” I say. “I asked my sister to tell me when they go on sale.”
Tigger nods. “These are prototypes. My brother’s venture capital firm funded the project, so he was able to pull a few strings and get these for me. I figured it could’ve been a good backup in case my bill of health wasn’t one hundred percent… or if I was clean but you didn’t feel ready to jump into bed with me.”
Jump into bed with him.
That’s the next phase of the training?
If it weren’t for my Everest concerns—and my inability to touch him—I’d say “yes, please.”
As is, I unseal the VR suit and watch him do the same.
“It’s sterile,” he says. “I checked.”
Well, that’s good. According to the instructions, you wear this thing in the nude.
My heart beats faster, and a hot flush spreads over my face.
Will he make me look away when he takes his Speedo off?
Should I make him turn away when I strip off my swimsuit?
“I’ll give you a moment,” he says and opens the bedroom door.
“You don’t have to leave,” I blurt. “You’ve shown me yours. It’s only fair I show you mine.”
His eyes take on a predatory gleam. “You sure?”
Instead of wasting time answering, I take off my bikini top, ignoring the burning of my face.
His nostrils flare, and the spandex in the Speedo looks like it’s about to rip. Before that can happen, he pushes the Speedo down, freeing His Royal Hardness.
With a loud gulp, I peel off my bikini bottoms.
We stand there for a few beats, drinking each other in. His body is all gleaming muscles and smooth, tan skin, every inch of him gloriously masculine.
“Gorgeous,” he growls, his eyes devouring me.
I will my vocal cords to function. “Thanks.” Grabbing the VR suit, I awkwardly adjust its straps.
“Lie down,” he orders. “It’s safer to put it on that way.”
I comply and swiftly wriggle into the suit. When I put on the VR headset, I feel the bed dip. He must be lying on the other side now, only a short crawl away.
I hear the material rustling as it glides over his body, and I feel jealous of the suit.
I want to be the one covering his hard, delicious body.
“Ready?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
“Turn it on.”
I do that. Now the suit and I are both turned on.
A virtual reality dashboard appears in the air in front of me. It only has one app, represented by a golden sphere.
“There should only be one icon there,” Tigger says. “Touch it, and I’ll do the same on my end.”
I poke the sphere.
Wow. My sister told me these gloves are good at faking tactile sensations, but I didn’t expect the sphere to feel so smooth and round. It’s only a silly icon, after all.
The suit comes to life and squeezes my body all over, providing a hug-like sensation. The view changes as well. I’m in a white room with two more spheres, with text hovering above them: “Design partner” and “Use defaults.”
“Is it okay if I design my partner to look like you?” Tigger murmurs.
I nod, then realize he can’t see me. “Sure. What about you?”
“I’d be honored if you made your virtual partner look like me.” His voice is low and seductive.
I jab at “Design partner,” then choose “Male.”
The white room fills up with disembodied male heads.
Is this meant to be creepy?
“I think you just wave your hands to move the heads around,” Tigger says.
Yep. The heads fly back and forth at my command until I locate one with a face that most closely resembles Tigger.
“Change chin?” the app asks.
I do, and then I keep changing features until a slightly computerized version of Tigger’s face is staring at me.
“Bodies are next,” Tigger says. “I guess it’s a good thing we’ve seen each other. No need to use imagination there.”
Sure enough, “Upper body type” is the next choice. I recreate his torso in every mouthwatering detail, and when I’m done, the head attaches to his midsection.
Is the next step going to be what I think?
Yep. Every inch of the virtual space gets filled with cocks.
Large. Micro. Thick. Thin. Different colors. Different species. It’s like that box with dildos from the other day, but on major steroids.
I go for the largest of the bunch, though it’s a pale approximation of His Royal Hardness—a bit like how that CGI face is a crude copy of Tigger’s real face.
Oh, well. VR beggars can’t be choosers.
The next choice is legs, then butts.
“Hey,” I say. “I didn’t get a good look at your ass.”
“I didn’t see yours in enough detail either,” he says. “We’ll have to use our imaginations for this.”
“Okay.” I scan all the choices. “In case you’re wondering, mine has a butthole.”
For whatever reason, some of the choices on display lack that anatomical detail, and some have it, but with a bejeweled CGI butt plug inserted—shameless product placement, no doubt.
“Does your butt have dimples?” he asks.
“Nope. Yours?”
“I think so.”
Yum.
There. Finally finished.
As if to celebrate, virtual Tigger does a stripper dance for me.
This ovarydrive might just end in exploding ovaries.
Tigger’s breath hitches. The virtual version of me must be doing this kind of dance for him.
Silicon hussy.
Two new spheres show up: “Multiplayer” and “Standalone.”
“I assume we’re doing Multiplayer,” I say.
“Yep. Choose that and then ‘Connect to the local network.’”
After I do that, everything goes white for a moment. When my vision returns, virtual Tigger is a few inches away from me, his bearing reminding me of the real prince’s predatory grace.
In terms of the way he looks, though, he’s still the same pale approximation of the real deal—from head to cock to toes.
Actually, the CGI toes look surprisingly real.
“Put your hand out the way you did before,” I say breathlessly.
His avatar nods approvingly and does as I ask.
I reach out and touch his virtual palm the way I was too chicken to do earlier.
Again, the technology of the gloves amazes me. It feels as if I were doing this wearing my normal gloves.
How realistic is this suit?
To get an idea—and because I’ve dreamed of this for so long—I take his hand and put it on my virtual breast.
Virtual Tigger’s face is impassive, but I know he likes this because I can hear him inhale deeply in the real world. He cups my breast, kneads it, and gently squeezes my nipple.
By Houdini’s binary code, how did they make this feel so fucking real?
A zing of pleasure arcs down to my nether regions.
Unable to stop myself, I run my hand down his pecs and washboard abs until I reach virtual Royal Hardness.
The nice thing about VR is he can’t see me blush like the maiden that I am. The textures of everything feel amazing. I’m beyond turned on now. If this suit isn’t waterproof in the crotch area, it might short-circuit at any moment.
“Can you feel that?” I ask hoarsely as I stroke him up and down.
“Oh, yeah.”
That response breaks the VR illusion because the words aren’t coming from the avatar’s mouth, but I don’t care. I’m at Charlie’s chocolate factory again, only my diabetes is cured.
“Can you touch me?” I ask.
“Fuck, yes.” Without letting go of my breast, he slides his other hand down my belly.
Wow. I feel it. Maybe not as intensely as on my breast, but I definitely feel the motion.
How much is this suit? It’s the best invention since the wheel.
His hand continues its wonderful journey farther down until it reaches my virtual folds.
“Damn,” I gasp as the pleasurable tactile sensations reach my clit. “Are you touching me over the suit?”
“No.” His voice is rough. “This technology is genius.”
Oh, it is. His clever virtual fingers are stroking my clit, applying just the right amount of pressure.
An orgasm builds in my core.
A moan escapes my lips, and I stroke His Royal Hardness faster.
Tigger’s groan is my reward.
I’m so close to the release I can taste it.
I move my hand faster.
He speeds up his strokes on my clit.
Yes. Yes!
“Please don’t stop,” I pant, squeezing him harder.
And at that moment, the fucking barking begins.