M For Mate

Sue Storm. So, again Namor’s mind returned to that gillless wonder. Namora cared not. She did not need him to be satisfied. There were many who would serve as a worthy lover.

Jimmy was the leader; bringing sex into the mix would complicate their relationship. The man couldn’t take charge on the battlefield and then surrender in the bedroom. Not him.

Venus was too needy. Her ego would be unbearable if Namora went after her as well as the guys.

Bob was… Bob.

Ken was too hairy.

Derek was married.

Temujin would probably immediately start expecting her to produce an heir and contribute to the lineage of the Mandarin.

She hadn’t ever considered it before, but her team was rather unfuckable.

Something flashed in her mind. There was M-11. She had always liked the robot. Not just because he’d brought her back to life. Namora had always sensed a respect from him. He was always quiet, courteous, competent, and industrious. The ideal male, in many ways.

She popped her head out his room and yes, there he was, right when she needed him, as always.

“M-11, come over here,” Namora said, and the robot made its way to her. Obedient, too. Not needing to make some smart remark every five seconds, like so many of these surface-dwellers.

Yes, he really was the strong, silent type. And he was made out of titanium. Titanium could take quite a pounding. And dish one out, as well.

She waved him into her room, closed the door behind them, and threw the bolt shut.

“Let’s see, what was it I wanted you to do for me?” She tapped her lower lip coyly. “What-what-what?”

M-11 pointed at the fireplace.

“No,” Namora said. “There’s plenty of wood already, thank you.”

She eyed his crotch, a seemingly featureless expanse of stainless steel, worked to do nothing so much as span the gulf between right leg and left leg. She wondered what his creator had endowed him with. M-11 had to have something. His creator had accounted for everything else. And given how superlatively he performed in all other regards, she could only imagine that he’d been built with something truly special for those who needed it.

“Although…” She smiled at him. “I could always use more.”

M-11 stared, motionless, in as much as he ever stared or was motionless. His glowing visor betrayed no more interest than a camera lens. He moved only to carry out instructions, either someone else’s or those of his own enigmatic nature. Never idly or without purpose.

To Namora, he seemed to be waiting to be told what to do—a smart boy like that knew she wasn’t talking about the kind of wood he’d go to the pile for.

He watched Namora. Only he was motionless; she moved even when not in motion. Breathing, shifting her weight, blinking—after which her blazing eyes came back into play, a little revelation each time. Namora got the sense that he liked the look of her. When she paced to the side, his gaze followed her with a turn of his head. He had no reason to look at her, but he did anyway. He liked what he saw and Namora liked being seen.

Namora licked her lips. “I think,” she said, “I’d like you to do something with my ass.”

M-11 kept following her pacing with his sensors, waiting—perhaps yearning—for an order. He could sweep the floors, he could wipe down the counters, he could wash the windows. Those were all in his day-to-day routine. This was not. He expended scrupulous effort into understanding exactly what Namora wanted from him.

“Yes,” Namora beamed, sure she detected some excitement deep in M-11’s still metal body. “I definitely want you to do something with my ass. Your hands and my ass. And maybe…” She bit her lip. “Maybe you have something else you can use on me. I don’t expect you to eat me out, but you were built by a man, weren’t you? I don’t think any man would leave his great creation… underequipped.”

Namora stepped close to the mute robot. She reached down to his crotch, rubbing the metal of his chassis. Up and down, twelve inches up, twelve inches down. She had no reason to think M-11 could produce the appendage she wanted from him—but her instincts told her there was chemistry happening between her and this all-too-human machine. Something would come of it, despite all reason.

She felt nothing except cold metal, but Namora knew there was something to feel. There was attraction brewing in that towering mechanical statue; she’d bet her life on it.

“Don’t worry,” she said, squeezing gently at the roundness of the chassis. “I want you to. I won’t get upset. I like you a lot, you know. And I think this will be enjoyable for you as well. In fact, just try to enjoy yourself. I’m sure I’ll like it too. You always take such good care of me…”

Reluctantly, it seemed, M-11 looked down. He watched her hand tour his groin. She rubbed tirelessly at the featureless space, like she was summoning a genie from a lamp. And soon, Namora felt a heat there that her hand hadn’t imparted.

“You do have something nice for me, don’t you?” Namora slid down onto her knees. “I told you, I want you to enjoy yourself. So let it out. I’ll take care of it.”

She rubbed her open palms on his thighs, kneading the smooth metal in the hopes that M-11 could feel it on some level.

“You can pretend you’re not feeling this all you want. I know you can. And I know there’s more. It’s time for me to get a look, wouldn’t you say? I promise, I won’t be frightened. You’re so well-built everywhere else—I bet it‘s a work of art, isn’t it?”

M-11 stared on. What could he say?

Only suddenly there was a seam that Namora had never noticed before at the juncture of his legs. A circle that suddenly extended out in a column. And not all at once, either. Hundreds of tiny concentric circles, so that first there was a tip, then glans—finally, an entire spade-shaped head. Then inch after inch of sheer, solid metal. A shaft!

Namora smiled in delight. She was both glad and disappointed that Venus wasn’t here. The siren would love this; but Namora was happy to have it all to herself.

She took hold of it at the stalk. It was rather intuitive. User-friendly Namora stroked up and down, as she would with a man of flesh and blood, and was sure that M-11 both lusted for her and that she was relieving that lust. Ever so slightly. Even as she made it worse.

“Is that nice?” she asked. “Are you enjoying yourself like I said she would?”

M-11 nodded. Namora smiled back at him. It was obvious to her that he was pleased with the attention he was getting, but she liked to know that it wasn’t all in her imagination. Even this titan of steel and wire wanted her; she would delight in letting him have her.

“Take my hands. Go on, take my hands and show me how to touch you the way you like. It’s okay. I want to please you.”

He put his hands on her wrists. His touch was cold, hard, yet light. Careful not to hurt her or cause any discomfort.

“Show me,” she said, “how you like it.”

M-11 moved her hands up and down on the base of his cock—when it was turning her on this much, it was a cock. But Namora was a queen. She took a little initiative of her own. Leaning in and kissing gently the tip of the phallus.

“That was for me. I’m going to enjoy myself too, remember? But it wasn’t so bad on your end, was it?”

Then she embraced the thick cockhead with her lips. Rubbing them up and down the slope of his glans. Using her lapping tongue to lube the hard metal.

“Mmmm,” she hummed, feeling the little noise reverberate along his thick rod. Another little action she did to try and please him… which served to turn her on as well.

M-11 wasn’t wholly silent. Occasionally she heard beeps and clicks inside his metal frame. Namora heard them now. Processing noises. Whatever he was calculating, she was giving him a lot of variables to work through.

“Good,” Namora said, looking up at his face and sure he was staring at her differently than he had before. “That’s good that you’re feeling pleasure.” She held his wet cock in her left hand. She moved her right hand inside her low-cut costume, massaging her breast. “I’m having fun too. We’re both going to have a very good time.”

M-11 nodded his head.

Namora stroked his rapidly warming prick. She ran her tongue over its entire length, caressing and licking every inch of his endowment. It occurred to her she was giving him something he likely wasn’t getting on his own. The poor guy probably couldn’t even jerk off.

And having to be around Venus night and day—he probably had a lot of pent-up stuff to work out. Perhaps literally. She wondered what exactly he would ejaculate. After all, any scientist smart enough to build M-11 must know that a woman wouldn’t just want to be fucked by him. She’d also want to be doused in his hot cum.