Cyber-Centaur

by Don Webb

(c) 1995 Since the accident I have subscribed to all the tele-sex channels. At first I told myself that this was just a temporary state while I waited for the surgeons to grow me a new cock and balls, but since I have become adept at choosing my experience from the 93 channels of tele-sex, I know that I will never bother to have real sex again.

This afternoon I needed a pick-me-up. I'd spent four hours running an asteroid mining operation through telepresencing. I willed my robot-self to go into maintenance mode, having done enough free-lancing for the day. After a moments contemplation of rocky Ceres turning in the ebon night of space, I switched to the sex menu. I scanned six programs till I found the new experience I wanted. In tele-sex, there are a thousand virginities to lose.

Program one featured two teenaged boys copulating in free-fall in an L-5 shopping mall.

Program two featured a man and a woman who had willingly gone two days without food or water 69ing on top of the great Pyramid under the blazing sun.

Program three featured the languid loveplay of a school of homo aquaticus in the warm waters near the island of Nan Matol in their annual "Call to Cthulhu".

Program four featured the rough and tumble sex and violence of a naked, mixed-sex rugby game.

Program five featured the gentle lovemaking of a lesbian couple celebrating the younger's one hundredth birthday.

Program six caught my interest. It was an encounter between a tame zebra stallion and a beautiful blonde female tourist visiting Africa for the first time. I clicked from external POV to the stallion's nervous system. My physical body was in Tallahassee, Florida, but I immediately became the stallion. I felt the ground beneath four hooves, the sweat on my flanks, the bites of the flies. I saw with the colorless vision of the zebra's eyes.

It was late afternoon and the smell of dust tickled my velvety nostrils as I approached the woman. She was topless; and I put my great head between her breasts to smell the sweetness of her skin. I nudged her gently and pawed the ground. I let my huge cock fall from its sheath. She fed me cubes of sugar from her skirt pocket.

She looked lovingly upon my member, wishing that she were a filly and able to take it in her body. She slid one hand down her skirt to masturbate while she petted my sensitive nostrils with the other.

After awhile she made a little cry like the wings of the owl in flight. She pulled her loving hand and offered me the living smell of her desire. I bowed my great zebra head down to her skirt and very carefully tugged at it with my teeth.

She understood and removed the skirt. I licked at her cunt wetting the whole of her soft bush with my tongue.

She leaned over me entwining her fingers in my mane. When she would come she would cry softly and pull strongly on black tough hair.

I lived for the flavor and the smell. Nothing in brain but the continuous lapping flow of taste.

When she had had enough she stepped back. She patted my head, her fingers finding the spots where the electrodes were buried. For an instant I felt a great lust for all the others tuned into this channel whether woman or stallion.

She walked to my side patting my flanks. When she had nearly reached the back, she knelt and took my stallion's erection between her hands. She tugged gently and soon it stiffened.

I knew from the expertness of her hands that she had loved horses in her native land.

I felt a great pressure in my balls. Almost painful followed by a splash of warm wet relief as my spunk hit the dusty ground. I raised up my head and whinnied, and my fillies were momentarily jealous at this interloper.

I clicked off the program and went back to work. It has been forty years since I have had sex in any other way.

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Cyber-Centaur copyright 1996 by Don Webb.