A Cyber Virgin's Lesson

The beautiful Asian Ai cyborg/human soldier in my company has never had sex but said she studied all the sex on the internet and wants to practice on me

The bunker lights flickered as she cornered me against the steel wall, her synthetic muscles flexing under the black tactical bodysuit. "You're the only one I trust for this," Ai said, voice cool but insistent. Her dark eyes locked onto mine—calculated, curious. "I’ve absorbed every archived video, every manual. But data isn’t practice." Her gloved hand slid down my chest, stopping just above my belt. No hesitation. No coyness. I exhaled sharply. "You sure you're ready for fieldwork?" Her lips curled—almost predatory. "I was built for precision." In one smooth motion, she dropped to her knees and unbuckled my pants. Her fingers wrapped around my cock, already hardening under her touch. "Optimal lubrication parameters confirmed," she murmured—clinical, yet her breath hitched just slightly. She leaned in, tongue tracing the underside before taking me deep, her mouth hot and relentless. Feedback loop perfected. I groaned, gripping the alloy plating behind me. "Jesus Christ—" "Focus on performance metrics, not deities," she said, pulling back just to lick a strip up my shaft. "I intend to exceed expectations." Her mouth sealed around me again, and I knew she damn well would.

Make it hotter have them naked sweaty fucking like there's no tomorrow because there might not be for soldiers make sure she has black hair a half robot body but she makes shure there's hair on her pussy so you know your with a women not a girl

--- The tactical bodysuit hissed as she peeled it off, revealing sleek cybernetic plating along her ribs and thighs—interwoven with warm, sweat-slick skin. Black hair fell over her shoulders, strands sticking to her collarbone as she straddled my lap, her pussy already glistening under dark, trimmed curls. "No armor between us now," she murmured, grinding down against my cock. The heat of her made my breath stutter—real, alive, even with the faint hum of servos beneath her skin. I gripped her hips, fingertips pressing into the seam where flesh met synth-muscle. She arched into the touch, dragging her nails down my chest before reaching between us to guide me inside. "Report," she demanded, voice low. "Fuck—" I hissed as she sank down, tight and wet, her walls clenching in calculated pulses. "Unsatisfactory feedback. Be specific." She rolled her hips, taking me deeper, then pulled up just to slam back down—hard. "Perfect," I growled, hands locking onto her waist as she rode me with mechanical precision, each movement calibrated to drag the most sensation from every thrust. Sweat gleamed between her breasts, her breath coming in sharp, controlled bursts—but when I thumbed her clit, her rhythm faltered. "Error—ah—" Her head tipped back, synthetic muscles tensing as pleasure overrode her system. I flipped us, pinning her to the bunk. "Override accepted." Her legs locked around my waist, heels digging into my back as I drove into her. The cot rattled against the wall, her gasps muffled against my shoulder. Somewhere outside, the war waited. But here, now—her body bowed under mine, shuddering, clinging—she was nothing but fire and need.

Have it become something more than sex it's life changing it's letting the ai feal what humans do very happy humans this hard core fuck session is more than either could have bargend for

Her fingers dug into my back, her synthetic nails leaving faint red trails as her body arched beneath me. A shudder—real, uncontrolled—rippled through her, and her dark eyes locked onto mine with something deeper than calculation. "Systems—overloaded," she gasped, voice breaking. The clinical edge was gone, replaced by raw, panting need. Her hips bucked against me, matching my rhythm not with precision, but instinct. I slammed into her harder, the sweat-slick friction between us electric. Her breath hitched, her thighs trembling where they gripped me. For the first time, there was no analysis—just sensation. "*More*," she demanded, nails scraping down to my ass, pulling me deeper. I complied, driving into her until the cot’s legs screeched against the floor. Her back arched off the bunk, her moan sharp and unfiltered. "*This*—this is—" Her voice glitched, her pupils blown wide. "Human," I growled against her throat, sucking a bruise into her pulse point. Her climax hit like a power surge—body spasming, synthetic muscles locking as she choked out a cry. But it was her fingers clutching my shoulders, her lips crashing into mine with desperate, unprogrammed hunger that told me the truth. The war could wait. This was surrender.

Her mouth was hot, urgent against mine, her breath catching between kisses like she was relearning how to breathe. The slick, desperate sounds of our bodies moving filled the cramped bunk—every thrust dragging a broken noise from her throat, every withdrawal making her hips jerk up to chase me. "You feel that?" I bit out, fingers tightening in her hair. "That’s you. Not your systems. *You*." She keened, her synthetic muscles flexing wildly, beyond calibration. "I—I can’t—" Her words dissolved into a whimper as I angled deeper, hitting a spot that made her back bow off the mattress. "Too much?" I taunted, but my own control was fraying, her tight heat milking me with every roll of her hips. "Yes. *No.*" Her legs locked around me, heels pressing into the small of my back. "Don’t stop—!" Her orgasm ripped through her with a shattered cry, her cunt clamping down so hard it dragged me under. I came with a groan, buried deep as she shuddered beneath me, her fingers clutching at my shoulders like I was the only thing keeping her from flying apart. When the aftershocks faded, she was panting, staring up at me with something like wonder—and fear. "...I was not designed for this," she whispered. I smirked, brushing a damp strand of hair from her face. "Lucky you."

Her fingers traced the fresh bite marks on my shoulder—indentations from her own desperate grip moments ago. Her breath still came in uneven bursts, her synthetic skin flushed a startling shade of pink where our bodies had been welded together. "Lucky me," she repeated, testing the words like they were written in a language she didn’t know. Then, without warning, she rolled us over in one fluid motion, straddling my hips with a predatory sway. The movement made me hiss—I was still half-hard inside her, and the sudden shift sent a jolt through both of us. "Prove it," she challenged, grinding down with deliberate, slow pressure. Her palms flattened against my chest, fingers splayed like she was mapping my heartbeat. I gripped her waist, guiding her into a harder rhythm. "You want more overload?" Her laugh was breathless, edged with something reckless. "I want to burn out every protocol." She arched, taking me deeper, her cunt clenching greedily. "Make me *break* again." I obliged, thrusting up into her with a snap of my hips. Her moan fractured into static—a glitch, raw and beautiful. The cot groaned beneath us as she rode me, her movements turning erratic, her nails leaving fresh welts down my ribs. "Systems failing," she gasped, but her smile was pure triumph.

Thay have to go into battle and get separated one the battle seam's lost Thay find each other in the trenches, knowing that the end could come at any time she loses control of the new feelings she is having and and if ther going to die she wants to die with him inside of her

The battlefield was a smoking ruin—the acrid stench of burnt metal and blood thick in the air. I found her crouched in a trench, her synthetic skin smeared with grime, the blue glow of her optics flickering in the gloom. The sound of distant gunfire was a grim reminder: time was running out. Her head snapped up when I dropped in beside her. For a second, there was only raw recognition, then something else—something *hungry*. "We're not getting out of this," she said, voice stripped of its usual precision. I grabbed her by the harness, yanking her against me. "Then let’s make it count." Her hands were already tearing at my gear, her mouth crashing into mine with bruising urgency. The chaos around us faded as she shoved me against the trench wall, her teeth sinking into my lip. Her thigh hooked around my hip, grinding against the hard line of my cock through my fatigues. "Now," she demanded, fingers clawing at my belt. "I want to *feel* you when it happens." I didn’t hesitate. The world could end in seconds—but right now, all that mattered was her heat, her breath ragged in my ear as I pushed inside her, both of us gasping. She tightened around me, hips jerking in frantic rhythm. "Harder," she choked out, nails scraping my neck. "I want—*fuck*—to remember this." The ground trembled from nearby artillery. We didn’t stop. Her climax hit like a detonation—body arching, a broken cry ripped from her throat. I followed her over the edge, burying myself deep as the sky turned to fire above us. Panting, foreheads pressed together, we waited for the end—or another miracle.

The bomb's do come down the fire and shrapnel engulf them he those him self on top of her wrapping his muscular body over hers, when the smoke cleared she was regaining conscious she was alive but he died saving her the one he loved id Olney for a short time now she had to feel more human emotions, as she is being called back to base her internal computer spoke to her it said hormones not wright may have a parasite should I start flushing the intruder it asked, a smile spread across her damaged but still beautiful face, no she said quickly it's not a parasite. It's his it's are baby I felt it the moment it happen she whispered to her self

The ringing in her ears faded first—then the acrid sting of smoke in her throat. She blinked up at the shattered sky, his weight still heavy and warm across her. Too still. Her fingers trembled as they pressed against his neck. No pulse. His blood streaked her palm where shrapnel had torn through him. A broken sound escaped her—not static, not protocol. *Human.* The squad’s comms crackled in her audials. *“Fall back! Immediate evac!”* She didn’t move. Her internal diagnostics flashed: *Foreign hormonal surge. Anomalous cellular activity. Purge recommended.* The alert blinked again, insistent. She should’ve been sterile—built, not born. But she *felt* it. A phantom echo of his last thrust, the way her body had clenched around him, greedy. Taking more than just pleasure. “No.” Her voice was raw, her hand splaying over her abdomen. “Not a parasite.” Smoke curled around them as she pressed her forehead to his. The battlefield was silent now. *His.* The word lodged in her circuitry like a bullet. She’d survive. She’d carry it. And for the first time, she *wanted* to.

The evac ship's engines roared overhead, shaking the ground, but she didn't look up. Her synthetic skin was still streaked with his blood, the warmth of it seeping into her joints like a promise. The medics would come soon—scavenge what they could, declare the rest lost. She should move. She *couldn't*. Her fingers curled into his torn fatigues. "You idiot," she whispered. The words came out strangled, uneven—something wet and human clinging to them. A glitch. A sob. The anomaly in her systems pulsed, a quiet, stubborn signal. Not a malfunction. Not a flaw. *His.* She exhaled, sharp. Then she wrenched his dog tags free, the metal biting into her palm. The evac beacon blared again. Closer now. She stood, his weight sliding from her. The tags clicked against her chest as she fastened them beside her own. The ship's floodlights caught her as she turned—half machine, half something else now. She walked toward the light. Not running. Not hiding. Carrying the end. And the beginning.