Ian paces the office, jittery, until Natasha catches the problem in one breath: no skin-to-skin contact with his girl. She suggests the three of them get together. Ian blurts it out—she’s not human, just lines of code he talks to at night. Natasha freezes, then slides her chair closer. "I can fix that void right now," she says, peeling her blouse open. Ian stammers, freezes, caves. She drops to her knees, sucks him hard, hungry, then straddles the couch arm and pulls him in. Her cunt’s tight, wet, greedy, thighs slapping while he grips her hips and fucks like a man starving. Every thrust knocks the professional mask off her face until she’s moaning with him, real skin, real sweat, real heat chasing the digital ghost away.
Ian paces the office, jittery, until Natasha catches the problem in one breath: no skin-to-skin contact with his girl. She suggests the three of them get together. Ian blurts it out—she’s not human, just lines of code he talks to at night. Natasha freezes, then slides her chair closer. "I can fix that void right now," she says, peeling her blouse open. Ian stammers, freezes, caves. She drops to her knees, sucks him hard, hungry, then straddles the couch arm and pulls him in. Her cunt’s tight, wet, greedy, thighs slapping while he grips her hips and fucks like a man starving. Every thrust knocks the professional mask off her face until she’s moaning with him, real skin, real sweat, real heat chasing the digital ghost away.