A Mechanical Reunion
written by:
elguapo

Carl practically dropped his cell phone as he tried to dial the number, his other hand shaking. He shook his head and tried to regain his composure. Not one who was accustomed to getting nervous, the thought of calling Angie had his knees knocking. He'd only exchanged e-mails with her, and hadn't seen her in person in more than ten years.

He was visiting town on business, and felt guilty already that he'd sent that email, casting a line to see if she might be available. He hadn't told his wife, which was why he felt so bad about it, and he wasn't sure why. Never unfaithful, he'd turned away plenty of temptation in the seven years of their marriage, but he'd also never lied to her before. Not that this was really a lie - more of an omission. Carl knew his wife wouldn't exactly be thrilled that he was going to meet an ex for dinner or a drink, but he also knew how much she trusted him.

The speaker on the phone clicked to live and a loud ring filled his ear.

"Hello?"

The voice was instantly familiar. Feigning confidence, Carl replied "Hey, A!" His voice cracked just a little, betraying his true feelings.

"C!" Angie's voice was a mixture of surprise and excitement. "How've you been?"

Carl cleared his throat. "Good. Fine. Is this a bad time?"

"Well...I'm just headed into the studio. Are you in town?"

"I am" Carl responded.

"Good! For how long? Can we do dinner tomorrow night?"

"No, um, just tonight. I leave tomorrow afternoon?"

"Oh" Angie responded, clearly disappointed. She paused for a long moment before she started to speak again. "I...my husband is out on assignment until tomorrow. I prob..." her voice trailed off as she tried to decide how her dear husband would respond to her meeting an ex boyfriend while he were away.

"If tonight isn't okay" Carl cut in, trying to wiggle them both of the awkward hook.

"No" she replied with a complete lack of conviction. "Tonight is fine, I guess. Dinner?"

"Dinner plans already, I'm here on business, but what about a drink after?"

Angie let out a long breath, not sure if dinner or just a drink was better. "Okay, that sounds okay. Text me the address of your hotel. Say, seven?"

"Seven is perfect." A few awkward goodbyes and mutual assurances on the time later, and the phone fell silent. Carl straightened his tie and returned to his work commitments, still unsure why he thought this was such a bad idea - still debating whether he should call home.

***** Angie pulled into a parking spot and looked down at the bright glow of her cell phone, then looked up and confirmed the same name glowing brightly on the building before her. Looking into the rear view mirror to reapply a fresh coat of lipstick and straighten her hair, she sat back and debated going home and texting him her regrets. She hadn't called her husband, in fact she'd avoided his calls all day. Swinging the door of her SUV open, her black high heeled boots crunched into the wet pavement below. A spring rain had just ended, leaving everything smelling fresh and clean in the mild night air. The sun had just set - an unseasonably warm breeze drifting by her.

She walked more slowly than normal as she opened the heavy wood door of the hotel bar, the stale smell of liquor and loneliness filling her nose as she entered the room. A local TV reporter with a locally famous husband, she hoped no one saw her meeting a strange man at a hotel bar - especially someone who might tell her husband. She stopped just inside the door, scanning the room for a semi-familiar face. As soon as she saw him, she felt better about it all. He looked the same, just a little older. Still in great shape, sporting an expensive looking suit and sitting at a high topped table alone, a bronze glass of something between his hands, his eyes fixed on a baseball game on the television. Angie smiled and started towards him.

Carl was on his third drink, mostly to calm his nerves. Angie had always been an intoxicating figure in his life, and he hoped the booze was the antidote. He was the most happily married man in town, but he'd always had this unusually warm spot in his heart for the last woman he'd dated before his wife. She caught the corner of his eye, and she looked incredible. Her smile still lit up the room, her brown hair bobbing about her shoulders as she walked towards him with a waive. She was waring a pair of knee-high boots, the inches between her boot tops and a tight dark skirt covered with black tights. She was wearing a conservative blouse, just like he'd seen earlier in the day on the local news.

"C!" she called out, real joy crossing her face. They'd always called each other by their first initials, a habit they couldn't imagine breaking, even after all these years.

"A!" Carl responded warmly, rising to his feet and instinctively opening his arms to give her a hug. The separated themselves clumsily and dropped onto their stools. Carl waived over the bartender who, to Angie's delight, didn't seem to pay her any attention at all other than taking her order of a white wine. They mostly smiled at each other for a few minutes before exchanging the typical pleasantries, asking inane questions about each others families, and discussing the balmy weather outside.

They settled into an old rapport easily, laughing at each others jokes and, if anyone had been paying attention, flirting gently. Carl ordered another burbon, Angie a second white wine. When the third arrived, she thought that this was a bit much for a work night, but she was having a better time than she'd had in forever. Nights out on the town had become something of a rarity.

Carl had quizzed her about her job, a career he'd always been interested in and was happy to see her enjoying. He noticed that she said very little about her husband, despite the fact that Carl knew they worked at the same TV station. Angie had noticed that Carl was cagy about what he did for a living, just generically referencing being in town on business.

"So what exactly do you do?" Angie finally insisted after being brushed off yet again.

Carl sat quietly, debating whether to spill his secret. Almost none of his friends knew what he actually did, and only his wife was really sure what it was. The bourbon finally won out. "I, well, I sell things."

Angie leaned over, her big brown eyes trying to recreate their old charm on him. She remembered quite well a time when the bat of her eyes could get him to do anything, a power she thought for sure they still retained. "What KIND of things?"

"Well, nothing you've ever heard off." Carl stared down at his glass. "Appliances. Home appliances."

Angie sat up and scowled at him. It was an odd thing to be so secretive about. "Like, toasters and shit?"

Carl smiled to himself. If things were as the remembered him, she only cursed when she was getting drunk. "No, not exactly. Not for the kitchen or anything. It's nothing you've ever heard of."

Now she was really getting intrigued. Leaning back in again, closer this time, she prodded him. Lowering her voice to a near-whisper, she prodded him further. "You might be surprised. What kind of home appliance could I possibly never have heard of?"

Carl took a big swig of his drinking, finishing it off and raising the glass, shaking it at the bar tender, the pointing at her mostly empty glass of wine. Angie almost stopped him, then figured she'd take one more drink if it meant getting an answer out of him.

The warmth of his drink washed over Carl's skin, giving him a needed, but likely unwise, boost of confidence. "It's for, like, couples."

Angie was really intrigued now. "For COUPLES?" she whispered loudly. "What do you mean?"

Carl looked at her, the big brown eyes drawing the answer out of him. "Yeah, it's like, a machine. A 'marital aid'." He maid air quotes with his fingers.

"No!" Angie couldn't hide her shock.

"I know, I know. I can't even tell you how I got into it. It just sort of, happened. Right after we split up. We market to 'book stores'," Carl continued, the air quotes returning, "and they sell to who ever."

"So, like, vibrators?" Angie was leaning as far towards him as she could, her voice low, but obviously shocked and a little too interested in what she was hearing.

Carl laughed. "A bit more involved than that. They're expensive. It's a pretty big appliance that, you know, does a 'man's job'. I'm here showing a few stores in town a new product line. Cheaper."

Angie's eyes grew wide. She'd never heard of such a thing! "Shit," she responded, sitting up tall on her stool, "I know a few people who could use something like that!"

"Oh do you?" Carl teased, happy she wasn't running for the door.

Angie raised her eyebrows and smiled, taking a long drink.

"Seriously?" Now it was Carl who was intrigued, even shocked.

A shrug of the shoulders told all. "We don't...it's fine." Angie stammered, her glass reappearing at her lips.

"Impossible!" Carl responded, far too loudly. He remembered her as being quite the wildcat. In fact, early in his marriage, he had to work hard not to compare his relatively quiet wife to the wild woman he'd known just before her. He'd never actually had sex with Angie, even through a full two years of dating, but their love life had been great. She used to constantly talk about how she was going to be a naughty little nympho, after she were married. He'd forced the thought of what her sex life must be like out of his mind many times before.

"I know." Angie responded defeatedly, the wine now giving her a too-loose tongue.

"But you used to be so..." Carl let his voice trail off, silence doing the best job possible of ending his thought.

"Yeah, well, not anymore. My husband is great. Great! But he's not, you know."

Carl looked at her, a question on his face. Angie looked at him and shrugged again. "He's just, particular." she started again, "It' has to be just so. You know. Lights off. Under the covers."

"Holy jumping fucked up shit." Carl responded, completely and totally shocked.

"Yeah" Angie commiserated, happy to finally get this off her chest to someone who might understand. "I'm so happy with him, I really am, but I haven't had an orgasm in, shit, five years!"

"No fucking way." Carl shook his head, looking back at his drink so that he didn't start to leer at her. He was almost proud, if that was the right word, that he actually was the one with the better sex life. An impossible thought, just a few hours earlier.

"Maybe I need one of those, what did you call them, appliances?"

Carl heard his response before he really thought it out. "I have a demonstration model up stairs if you want to take a look. I know a guy who can get you a deal."

Silence followed. A heavy silence. He glanced over at her, then realized he might actually be serious, which caused him to stare at the table some more. Glancing at her again, he thought he saw her actually thinking about it. Finally she looked up, locking eyes with him.

"Seriously?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess. I mean, you can just take a look I suppose. Might warm up those lonely nights when he's off on assignment or whatever."

Angie shrugged a final time, downing the rest of her glass and giving in to her curiosity. "I HAVE to see this!" She tried to pass it off, mostly to herself, as interest for curiosity's, not and not her own, sake.

Carl swigged down the last of his own glass, and waived at the bartender, instructing him to put it on his room. They rose from their seats and started, an uneasy distance apart from one another, towards the lobby. A minute later and they were in the elevator, Carl struggling with his wallet to free the room key. Before he knew it, he was sliding the key into the door, a green light granting them access. He clicked on the light, the room bathed in a warm light. He held open the door, watching Angie slowly, cautiously, slide past him. He remarked to himself that she was taller than he remembered, then noting silently how great her tiny ass looked in that tight skirt. He felt a drunken swelling in his pants, then scolding himself as he let the door slide shut.

Angie looked the room up and down, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. She turned to him, spinning on the back of her boot heels. "Where is it?"

Carl smiled and squeezed past her, walking towards the closet. "I keep it disassembled, in a case, when I'm gone. I don't want to scare the maid or anything." He slid open the closet door, revealing a two foot by one foot metal case. He pulled it out beside the bed, then down towards the foot of the bed, finally positioning it between the TV and the bed. "Go ahead, sit down," he instructed her, "it takes a few minutes to set up."

Angie never took her eyes off of the case as she picked the rolling chair by the desk, sliding into it and leaning forward, resting her hands on her knees, pressed tightly together. She felt a tingle of excitement, like she was discovering something wrong and new. Watching Carl work, she saw the case unhitch at the top, his back to her as various pieces of metal clicked into place. Soon, he walked a long power cord over to the wall, finally exposing something she'd never imagined. It was about the size of the case, nothing more than a few metal bars forming an open sided, rectangular box, with a small motor at the end nearest the TV. From it, he had placed a long circular rod which stuck out over the edge of the bed. She wasn't sure what she expected, but the bar just ended.

"I don't understand." She muttered, suddenly feeling really dumb, as if something obvious were escaping her grasp.

Carl started to speak, stumbling over a few syllables, then reconsidering and instead picking up a small wireless remote control and pressing a power button. The motor whirred to life, the long arm starting a slow circuit forward and back. He started to try to explain, but again words failed him.

Angie stared at it, clearly still confused. "Yeah, but, like, what does she use? It's just a bar."

"Oh yeah, fuck, uh," he stammered, pulling a soft pouch from the inside of one of the now removed metal casing walls. It loudly detached from its velcro. He pulled down a zipper and, reaching inside without looking, accidentally picked the largest soft end. It was shaped just like a long penis, with realistic veins and a large head. The only unrealistic part was the bright pink color. "There are, uh, attachments." Carl started to slip the end on, scolding himself for how badly his otherwise smooth presentation was going. It occurred to him that he'd never actually shown a woman other than his wife how it worked. Before he realized he didn't mean to set it all the way up, it was completely put together.

Angie considered what she was seeing, quietly, still not quite sure how this thing was supposed to work. "I still don't get it." she said, rising to her feet and moving over to sit on the corner of the bed, so she could see it up close. First, she sat far away, then slid closer, finally reaching out and giving the soft tip a little squeeze. She couldn't believe how realistic it felt. "So, she sits, or, um, lays, like over here." she said, sliding into the middle of the bed so that it was pointing right at her stomach. "How do you control it?"

Carl reached his arm out and handed her the remote, which was completely self-explanatory. Two speed buttons, one marked "Fast" and one "Slow" indicated how the machine worked. Angie looked at it, turning the tiny remote in her hand. Her thumb slid up and down it, bouncing over each button, then finally pressing the "slow" button. Nothing happened. She pressed the the "Fast" button. The machine sprung to life.

She couldn't stop staring at the machine as the pink tip lunged towards her, poking her hard in the stomach. An involuntary "Oh!" lept from her lips, the use of the machine suddenly becoming crystal clear. It continued to jab her in the stomach, then pull away and back again. It practically pushed her back. At a minimum, it made a hard suggestion.

"So" she started, talking entirely to herself, having completely forgotten anyone else was there, "she just, lays back". Angie laid back on the bed, her knees dangling over the edge as her tall boots rested on the floor. She could feel it sliding over the top of her tight skirt, the tip just falling short of her pubic bone. A deep breath was her best attempt to keep from being more than a little excited at the constant, unrelenting pace of the machine. Her hands ran down her sides, sliding across the fabric of her skirt, then resting on its hem. She could feel the soft vibration of the machine as it continued to slide up and down her thighs, still missing her most sensitive of spots by a few inches. Her fingers curled under the hem of her skirt, hooking it tightly. She lay still, enjoying the sensation without anything really happening.

Carl sat back on the low dresser, watching as this woman he hadn't seen in years lay on his hotel bed, a mechanical lover operating just above her tight clothes. He knew he should stop her, but he figured in a moment she'd snap back to life and quickly leave. It wasn't like she was actually doing anything with it, after all.

Angie started to breath a little faster, a cool glaze forming on her skin. Without thinking, her fingers released her skirt, the heels of her hands pushing down into the bed. She eased herself up, further away from the machine. Carl watched, almost relieved that she appeared to finally be working her way out from under it. She let herself fall back into the bed, the machine now hitting the bottom of her skirt, pushing the bottom of it up a little. Carl tried not to look, but couldn't take his eyes off of her, as just a little more of her leggings were exposed. Angie lay still, the gentle pushing on the hem of her skirt a constant plea for something else, something more. She thought about how long it had been since she'd felt something good, really good, and done something a little wild. She'd forgotten how badly she wanted it. Her fingers grabbed the bed spread, pulling her down, letting chance determine her next move. If the soft head of this thing poked back up, over her skirt, she was going to force her self up.

It didn't.

The pink tip disappeared below her skirt, plunging into the darkness. She felt it rub against her inner thigh, her legs squeezing together to feel its constant motion. It stopped about mid-thigh, a tingle forming between her legs. Her breath quickened, her finger drawing the bed tighter, pulling herself another inch or two closer to the edge of the bed. It surprised her when she first felt it brush, gently, up against the crotch of her tights. She couldn't ignore the dampness it impacted, or the shock of pleasure it shot across down her legs. A soft moan escaped from her lips as her head fell to one side. It was just a small contact, but it was met by another, and then, a predictable interval later, another. And another, then another. It just kept at her, hitting her often enough that she couldn't pull herself free. She slid further down, it's soft tip pushing against her. Her body forced it north, so that now it was rubbing up and down against her, never leaving contact with her body. It rubbed, through her tights and now damp panties, against her clit, in a never ending fashion. She gasped, moaning softly again, her fingers releasing the bed and grabbing at her skirt, pulling it north. Her hips eased north, which served the dual effect of allowing her to pull her skirt up a little, and pushing her pelvis against it harder.

"Ooohhhhh" she moaned more loudly now, her skirt pulled up so that Carl, who she'd completely forgotten about, could see what was making her react so completely. His eyes were locked on her, the pink contrasting against the black tights which covered her lower body completely. Her hands released her skirt, one of them moving to rest on the pink rod and pushing it gently down into her. Her moans were becoming increasingly active, growing louder and louder still, into a constant sound of pleasure. The opposite hand found the waist band of her stocking, pulling at it futilely.

"Oh god" she moaned, finally releasing it and using both hands to pull at her tights. She didn't even notice that a second set of hands assisted her, the black fabric sliding down her thighs and exposing her naturally tan skin. The bunched at her knees, stopped by her tall boots. She threw her hands over her head as some unseen force aimed the pink tip at the soaked center of her panties. The tip hit her right on the clit, earning a deep groan and a soft shake of her flesh, a tiny orgasm sliding over her.

Carl ran his hands up and down her thighs, memories of the smooth texture of her skin flooding back. He ran his hand over the top of her panties, then running a single finger under it, pulling the crotch to the side. The pink tip continued to appear and reappear at her begging bottom, missing its target each time. He only had to give a slight redirection to make it hit right at the middle of her wet slit, her legs spreading as far as they could to open herself to it. The pink head hit her right in the middle, her pussy lips spreading to take it, then pulling away. The next time it disappeared just a fraction of an inch within her.

"Oh fuck yes" she cried out, pushing herself down to meet it. The next time the head didn't exit, but she took another inch or two of it. Soon four, then five inches were pushing her pussy walls aside. It wasn't the feel of it alone that sent waves of pleasure over her, but the unrelenting thrusting of it.

Carl found the remote, long since discarded, beside her. Scooping it up, he gave the "Fast" button a push, increasing the speed by a setting. The motor whirred louder, picking up speed. Angie's hand slid around on the bed, her eyes shut tight as her head bucked back and forth. Carl walked back down by the machine, squatting beside it to pull at the zipper on the side of her boots, pulling them from her, then sliding her tights down as far as he could, struggling to remove them from her feet. She responded instantly, her legs springing apart as she slid further down, taking at least six or seven inches of incessant thrusting.

"Oh fuck yes...don't stop...faster...faster!" she was lost in carnal lust. Carl turned the machine up to it's fastest setting. The motor hummed loudly, but not loudly enough to overtake the constant moans coming from her twisted face. Swallowing hard, Carl eased himself back onto the dresser, watching as his former lover was overcome with pleasure. He started to rub at his own hardness beneath his slacks, soon pulling his own fat seven inches free and stroking himself slowly.

Angie felt orgasm after orgasm shoot through her as the machine refused to give up, refused to give her a second's break. After what seemed like a hundred of them, she pushed herself away from it, letting her head fall to the side. Her eyes eased open slowly, bringing Carl into focus. She smiled a small smile at him.

"Holy fuck that thing is amazing."

Carl continued to stroke himself as they locked eyes."

"I forgot how big that thing is" she said, focusing on his manhood. "Bring it here."

Carl didn't pause for a moment, rising to let his slacks fall from his legs and stepping out of them. He walked to the corner of the bed, grabbing her by the leg and pulling her to him. Her pussy was still open, begging for more. He pushed the thick tip of his cock against her, much thicker than she'd just experienced. Her body tensed as he entered her, her pussy walls filled to the brim.

"Holy fuck I've dreamt of that cock" Angie cried out, her body responding with another orgasm as soon as he entered her. She'd thought about how he would've felt so many times, regretting she hadn't had him while she could. Her hips struggled to meet him as he slowly pumped in and out of her.

Carl couldn't believe how incredible she felt. So tight and inviting. He grasped each of her legs and pushed them apart, opening her completely as he started to thrust faster and faster.

"Oh fuck YES!" she cried out "harder...faster...give it to me baby!"

She sounded just like he remembered.

"Keep fucking me!" she ordered "Don't stop! DON'T STOP!"

Her body shook as he pounded away at her. She ran a hand down her body, two fingers finding her clit and rubbing it hard, the other hand grabbing at her breast through the silk of her blouse. A never ending string of curse words and pleading cries poured from within her.

Carl held her legs firmly, his eyes darting back and forth from the sight of his cock sliding in and out of her and her face, twisted in pure lust. He could tell she needed this, and hadn't had it in too long.

"When's the last time your husband fucked you like this?" he barked out.

"Fuck fuck fuck...never...he's never fucked me like this...only you...fuck your pussy!"

Carl felt a swell of pride as she responded, his balls tightening as her pussy walls struggled to grasp him.

"Fuck baby, I'm going to fill that little cunt" he cried out, warning her.

"Fill me! FUCKING FILL ME UP!" she screamed in reply.

Shot after shot of his thick cum emptied into her as he collapsed above her, their flesh combining into one.