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Emily had
been shopping all day. By lunch she'd seen so many furniture
stores it felt as though she were becoming part of the
furniture herself.
"Can't
we just get that leather one from Harvey's?" she
asked her husband, Nick. "I really liked it."
Nick dismissed
her. "The colour's wrong. And it's way too expensive.
Now, what do you think of this one?" As usual, he
brushed her comments off and went to test-sit on a garish
zebra-patterned monstrosity over by the porch swings.
Emily rolled
her eyes and sighed. She no longer cared about buying
a new couch. All she wanted to do with take her shoes
off and relax, maybe open a bottle of wine and get close
to Nick like she hadn't done in... was it that long?
It seemed
an eternity since they'd actually sat and talked, longer
since they'd made love in the tender fashion that left
her breathless and close to tears with joy. Now he was
always busy, always keen to acquire new things with his
new-found wealth from his up-and-coming job. It wasn't
how things were meant to be, but she'd kept thinking,
It won't last long, he's just getting settled, things
will be better soon.
Watching
him puff up cushions and bounce exuberantly on springs,
she felt restless and frustrated. What's more, the coffee
from an hour ago had done it's work, and the urge to pee
was growing stronger by the minute. They never have
public toilets in these places, she thought to herself,
shifting from foot to foot.
"Can
we go soon?" she asked Nick, but he was grilling
a sales assistant over possible discounts on the zebra.
Finally unable to bear the pressure on her bladder, Emily
sidled up to a female assistant and asked to use the staff
toilet.
"Sure,"
the woman smiled. "Just head down that corridor,
turn left, and go through the door marked STAFF."
Emily didn't bother to tell Nick where she was going;
he wouldn't listen anyway.
Hurrying
down the corridor, she went through the STAFF door and
emerged into another white hallway with several exits
leading off it. Desperate, she accidentally opened a door
marked PRIVATE STOREROOM, glimpsing numerous pieces of
brightly coloured furniture before she ducked back out,
and into the toilet.
Relieved
at last, she studied her face in the washroom mirror.
She was attractive, she knew that. A number of men had
propositioned her before Nick came along, and all because
of her looks. She wondered what her life would be like
if she'd accepted any of them...
Back in the
hallway, she was overcome by a whimsical desire to look
at the furniture in the private storeroom. Imagine if
she found the ideal couch, all by herself! Indeed, out
of the corner of her eye she'd spotted a strange looking
red velvet armchair that she wouldn't mind sitting in,
if only to rest her feet for a moment.
Checking
to make sure the hall was deserted, Emily quietly slipped
into the dim storeroom and studied the luminously upholstered
chairs and sofas. The designs were experimental, without
doubt. Some didn't seem to fit the role of couch at all.
Again, the scarlet armchair in the corner caught her eye.
It was covered in lush velvet, and the shape of it seemed
more like a frozen wave, or a pair of lips, than a piece
of furniture. The curved headrest seemed designed to comfort
and reassure, while the seat cushion looked ready to accept
any weight with pleasure.
She padded
over, slipped off her shoes, and guiltily sat down. Immediately
the chair embraced her; it was soft and encompassing,
like she'd just sat down in a blob of red jelly. The luxurious
fabric caressed her skin. She sank back, sighing, and
the chair welcomed her further into its folds. Closing
her eyes, she let a feeling of blissful relaxation wash
over her.
Moments later,
she realised the chair was moving. The backrest had begun
to squirm rhythmically, gently massaging her lumbar area,
while another cushion attended to the sore muscles around
her neck. With a barely audible clicking sound, the footrest
automatically sprung up, lifting her bare feet off the
ground. It too began to move, vibrating against her tired
calves.
Emily couldn't
keep the grin off her face. Now this was a comfortable
chair! It had only been a few minutes, yet she felt completely
enveloped in pleasure, the red velvet cushions surrounding
her and pleasantly touching her flesh.
A bizarre
idea struck her. Wouldn't it be fabulous to sit in this
chair naked? She brushed the thought away; it was ridiculous
to even think it. Nonetheless, as the massage relaxed
her further, and as the velvet inflamed her nerves, she
began to seriously toy with the idea. It would be nice...
sexy, even. The whole back area had seemed deserted, and
no-one knew she was in here. Even if she only did
it for a minute, it wouldn't hurt, would it?
She grinned.
What the hell. Just for a minute.
Almost giggling
to herself with guilty pleasure, Emily slipped her skirt
and blouse off, letting them fall to the floor nonchalantly.
Her underwear followed, and she lay back into the squirming
armchair with exquisite joy. Now the velvet was tickling
her buttocks and fondling her back, and a new movement
began underneath her thighs. Curious, she opened her legs
and let the chair massage the inside of her thighs. Aroused
by her own daring, she could feel wetness forming between
her slightly parted pussy lips. She glanced around carefully;
the room was still deserted. With small movements, she
eased her hand down to her clit and gently began to tease
herself, dipping her finger into her vagina and carefully
smoothing the wetness around her cunt.
Suddenly,
the chair ceased movement, and she was startled into a
moment of panic. She half leapt out of the chair, reaching
for her clothes and looking desperately around for possible
salespeople. To her relief, she remained alone, and sank
back into the chair, sighing. Her hand found a previously
unseen control panel on the armrest, and she absently
pressed a button, wondering what it did.
Abruptly
the cushion beneath her began to move. She heard faint
whizzings, and without warning large leather clamps emerged
from the leg and arm rests, grabbing her limbs and pulling
her firmly back into the soft grasp of the chair. She
was held fast, her legs open, her arms unable to fight.
Before she could think of how to respond, something
emerged from the seat cushion and positioned itself between
her legs. It seemed mechanical, but it moved with the
fluidity of an octopus arm. The best description she could
think of was a mechanical tongue.
It turned
out to be a good description. Without pausing, the tongue-thing
moved forward and gently began to lick her. With even
strokes, it lapped at her clitoris with a surety of purpose,
as though it had been waiting an eternity just to touch
her. Occasionally it swirled its way around her entire
cunt before returning to her clitoris, licking it with
just the exact pressure and position as she had always
liked.
Emily didn't
scream. She was too busy moaning. Within instants she'd
gone from shocked surprise to absolute pleasure. As if
sensing her reaction, the chair began to massage her again,
adding to her enjoyment of the strange situation. Her
hand moved to the control panel again, and she pushed
another button.
This time
a second, fluidic extension emerged from the cushion and
promptly nuzzled itself into her dripping vagina. Now
she could barely keep herself from gasping. The second
arm filled her, pressing upwards towards her g-spot and
moving in and out, while the tongue continued its steady
lapping, determined to exceed in giving her a stronger
orgasm than she'd ever had before. She writhed and her
heart beat loud in her ears. She felt the control panel
at her fingers, and guessed what the third button would
do. Eagerly, she pressed it.
A smaller,
thinner extension propelled itself from the chair and
inched its way into her ass, vibrating as it went. This
time she yelped. It was ridiculous that her body could
feel this good without exploding. The tongue lapped, the
fluidic penis probed, and the ass thing... well, she had
no idea what it was doing. But it all felt amazing.
She closed
her eyes and tried not to come too soon. She didn't want
to waste this experience. But the pressure was building.
She opened them again, just to see if there was a slow
switch on the control panel, and saw a male sales assistant
standing before her, his half-shadowed handsome face watching
her intently. Shocked, she wanted to get up, but the chair
chose that moment to increase its rhythm. Slave to her
own pleasure, she was wrenched into a massive orgasm,
the waves of intense feeling making her cry out and leaving
her almost dazed in the aftermath.
For a few
moments she simply lay there, unable to do anything except
pant quietly. The leather restraints released, and the
massage and vibrations died. Then the horrible realisation
hit her: a man had just watched her, prostrate and naked,
have sex with a chair. Oh my god. She didn't want
to open her eyes again, but she couldn't just sit there
and hope he'd go away. Lifting one eyelid, she saw he
was still there, and now he was smiling. Through her embarrassment,
she couldn't help but notice how friendly his smile was.
She tried
to sit up, but the cushions still held her. Gently, the
man stepped forward and helped her up. His skin against
hers was smooth and tanned.
"I'm
Jason. I invented that chair."
She was lost
for words, standing naked and flushed before him.
He regarded
her happily. "I think you've proved it works. Couldn't
have arranged a better test if I'd paid someone."
His blue eyes sparkled with success.
She grasped
for a reply. "Jason? As in Jason Recliner?"
He laughed.
"No. Although perhaps I should change my name. And
perhaps you should get dressed." He pointed
at her crumpled heap of clothes, neglected on the floor.
She dressed
awkwardly. He didn't turn away, but studied her cheerfully
as she buttoned her blouse. At last she thought of something
to say. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been in here.
I was tired... I just thought I'd sit down for a while..."
"Do
not concern yourself. It was a good decision, was it not?
Of course, you'll have to buy the chair now."
"I'll
have to...?"
"Well,
it's not really a 'try-before-you-buy' kind of thing,
is it?" Jason said.
"But-"
She stopped herself, and turned to look at the armchair,
quiet now and looking for all the world like a normal
piece of furniture. She thought of how much pleasure it
had just given her. Buying it didn't seem such a bad idea.
"Of course. I'd like to buy it. But is it
the only one? Do you have any others?"
"That's
the prototype. But if it's that successful, I can make
plenty more. I think you've shown how well it works. Just
tell Bob the sales assistant to sell you the Loveseat.
He'll know what to do."
Emily did
her best to straighten her hair, tried to look presentable
for her return to the showroom. She had no intention of
telling Nick what had happened, nor of letting him know
what their new Loveseat was capable of.
She turned
to go, yet something held her. "Do you make any other
kind of 'loveseat' Mr Recliner?" she asked with a
half smile.
He returned
her grin. "I've got a few plans still on the drawing
board."
"I'll
leave my name and number with Bob," Emily grinned.
"Let me know when you need another test done."
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