Nichole had guy problems.  She had just ended the relationship with her boyfriend, someone she had been dating for a few months.  Nicole met him through a dating service.  She liked him okay, but their sex life was less than satisfying.  In truth, she rarely felt sexually fulfilled with those she dated.  While some sex is better than none, most guys just didn’t know how to excite her.  But she was philosophical about the problem.  “You just have to kiss a lot of frogs to find your prince,” she used to say. 

In a lunch with Ben – a close friend, not a boyfriend -- Nichole bemoaned the need to yet again re-enter the dating market.  She was frank about her motivation; they always talked openly about their respective partners.  Ben was a medical researcher.  He and Nichole had met in college, and while he was much attracted to her, she was not to him.  If you asked her privately, she’d say there was no chemistry.  But they were otherwise great friends. 

Ben had heard this story of disappointment from her before.  But now he had a suggestion.  “You know that I work in medical research.  Well, the facility I’m with now has developed an experimental machine.  I think it could be very useful for you.”

He explained that the new machine was a Sensory Reactivity Monitor, or SRM.  Its purpose was to map the human body, detecting exactly what its points of sensitivity were, points of pleasure or pain.  While not the purpose for which it was devised, everyone at the facility joked that it could provide a road map for one’s sexual partner to follow.  It was all very early in the process but if it worked, every lover would become the best lover. 

“How does it work?”

He explained.  “The machine uses sensors and probes to catalog every inch of your body, to record how you react to stimulation.”

“I don’t know," Nichole mused.  “Do I want a machine poking and prodding me like a guinea pig?  Would it be probing all my body parts?” 

“Yes.  That’s its job.  But it’s a machine; it’s not judging you.  If you keep going as you are, you could be an old maid before Prince Charming comes along.  You can’t afford not to try it. And where’s your sense of adventure?”

He continued, “We’d have to do this after hours.  I have access, but the program is not designed for this usage, not just yet.”

With some trepidation, she agreed.  Thus it was that a few days later, Nichole was at the research lab’s facility at 8 pm.  The place was deserted except for her and Ben.  Nichole entered a changing room and removed all her clothes.  She put on a loose paper gown, like the hospitals use, to walk next door where a huge machine awaited her.  It was large, with a tunnel opening like a CAT scan but much wider once inside.  Ben took her gown and placed her naked on her back on a conveyor belt.  Her legs were splayed apart, her arms at a forty-five degree angle to her body.  Sensors were placed strategically on the body.  He adjusted soft straps to hold her gently but firmly, one over each limb, one around her middle, one across her chest.  She was horrified at how overtly exposed and bound she was.  She had never been naked in front of him before, and it took all her courage to pretend that she was calm.  What had she gotten into? 

The belt began to move and she was conveyed into the interior.  It was warm inside and it enveloped her.  A gentle, narrowly focused column of air began to blow, first directed at her forehead, then her neck, then moving down, following the curves of her body to her breasts, her abdomen, her mound.  Each reaction, each moan, each sound, was recorded.  Small TV monitors watched her.  The machine noted how her eyes reacted, if she trembled, if she perspired.  A scan noted brain activity. 

Two robotic probes made of soft material and designed to replicate human hands began to massage her.  They started at her feet, gently kneading the soles of the feet, the ankles.  Nichole stirred.  The machine was very good at its job.  She hadn’t realized the pleasure her feet could generate.  Then the “hands” travelled up her legs, to her knees, to her open thighs.  They massaged the interior of the thighs.  For a long time.  “It’s teasing me”, she thought.  But what a wonderful tease.  Then the hands arrived at the center of her womanhood.  They rubbed and stroked.  A “finger” entered her and massaged the clitoris.  As Nichole stirred, the finger moved and probed, seeking out the spots that produced the most reaction, the most pleasure.  The finger then drove deeper inside her, hitting the G spot, and moved back and forth.  She gently cried out, her hips thrust upward, then she fell back, relaxed. 

Even after she climaxed, when she thought she was done, the machine was not finished.  The “hands” continued to travel over the rest of her front, the stomach, circling the breasts, the neck, and head.  Then the platform she was on began to rotate 180 degrees.  Held securely by those straps around her, she was now upside down.  A second platform appeared below her and she was now on her stomach.  The process began again.  The gentle breeze, the mechanical hands.  This time the fingers stroked her neck, her back, her buttocks.  Then it probed her anus, and Nichole was not pleased.  Her violent jerk and intense gasp told the machine this was not for her.  It abruptly ceased, seemingly as to apologize.  It moved on. Finally, she was pulled from the machine.  She was exhausted but it was a wonderful exhaustion.  Ben helped her from the machine and held her clothes for her.  After she dressed, he brought in a sheaf of papers. 

“We have a complete print-out of your body.  The areas of greatest and least sensitivity.  And,”  he looked down sheepishly, “those areas a lover should avoid.”  Nichole blushed, although having been sprawled naked and observed inside a machine for the last thirty minutes should have precluded any such modesty.

“It’s all recorded on this computer chip.”  He also held in his hand a VR headset.  “If worn by your partner, it will send signals to guide him to best to achieve your maximum satisfaction.  You’ll never again experience a less than optimal sexual experience.”

“Wow," said Nichole.  “I can hardly wait.  Too bad I broke up with my boyfriend.”

 “I was thinking about that,” said Ben. “I didn’t suggest this before, because I didn’t want you to think I had ulterior motives.  But how about if I try this out?  It would be excellent research and would help in confirming the machine’s finding, and in refining the software.”

Nichole paused.  She liked Ben a lot – maybe even loved him in a brotherly way – but she’d drawn the line on the relationship becoming physical.  Would sex – even for noble “research” purposes – irrevocably alter their friendship?  But she had lain totally exposed before him.  She knew he watched her through the TV monitors, as she moaned, writhed, and climaxed.  How could she say no?

They went back to her apartment.  They did nothing that evening.  She was exhausted, and the experience was too fresh; it might color her reactions.  But they slept together in the same bed.  In the morning, she awoke to Ben stroking her arm.  He was wearing the VR headset.  She smiled.  Then his hands began to move over her body.  His touch was gentle, so precise.  He kissed her on the small of the neck, a spot surprisingly sensitive and one that she hadn’t previously considered.  He massaged her shoulders, moved down her chest, circled the breasts. With his tongue he flicked at the nipples, coaxing them to hardness.  His tongue traveled down her body, to her groin.  He nibbled gently at the delicate lips of her vulva.  He massaged her legs, the back of her knee, her feet.  She was aflame from his touch.  She moaned, turned toward him, guided his penis into her.  They rocked together as each felt that joyful sexual tension peak.  They climaxed and lay together to enjoy the warmth of each other’s bodies.

When it was over -- and how sad it was to be over --  she joined him in the kitchen for breakfast.

“That machine is the best," she exclaimed.  "I’ve never felt so alive, so sensual.  It knew what to do with every inch of me.”

“I’m glad you liked it," said Ben.  “But I have a small confession to make.  I couldn’t get the VR headset to work.  The batteries may be bad.”

“That was you then!?” said Nichole. 

“Yes.  All me.  I’ve loved you for years.  I didn’t need software to know how to love you.  I’ve rehearsed that many times before in my mind.” 

She went over to him and kissed him deeply.  There were tears in her eyes.  “I’ve always loved you.  How foolish I was to think we had no chemistry.  You are my prince.”

They lived happily ever after. 

© Copyright Calem Geyser, 2020.