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Armchair sex


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.”

So, what do you think ?

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