Your Favorite Girl (YFG Series) Read Free

fucking constantly.  Sometimes the three of us, sometimes just Ellen and me—and I know they have sex when I'm not home.  But I'm beginning to suspect Ellen isn't the only one—and I think she knows, too.  I hear them fighting sometimes.  This has been going on for three months.  One day I come home and they're in the shower together.  I find a little black book in Ted's pants pocket, and the only thing in it is a business card.  This place, Your Favorite Girl, Incorporated, with an address and phone number.  I thought it was an escort service, but I called just to be sure.  Someone answered with one of those voice distortion things and he said—"
    "So, Ted, you've finally decided to make an appointment," Kate finished.  "That was me."
    We reached the door, which had a digital panel above the knob with a small blue screen.
    "So you know my husband?"
    "Not personally," Kate said.  "I was his Selection Guide.  When he first called, I took his information—name, date of birth, social security number, account and routing number to his bank.  We're a very private company.  We're also very expensive.  We do criminal background checks, credit checks, personal references from past or current customers, financial assessments.  You were a strange case, being the wife of a potential client.  The executives held a roundtable meeting to decide whether or not to invite you here today."
    "But . . . I still don't know what this place is," I said.
    Kate smiled.  "Brace yourself.  It's time to find out."
    She pressed her thumb on the blue screen and a red light on the panel turned green.  She opened the door and we stepped through into another hallway, this one curved and running to the right and left.
    When the door closed behind us, we stood there in the darkness, barefoot on the sheepskin carpet.  To the left, soft green light emanated from just around the bend; to the right, a warm golden glow, like early evening sunshine.
    "Your Favorite Girl, Incorporated is an underground company dedicated to producing objects of sexual delight the likes of which no man or woman has ever experienced," Kate said, sounding like she was reading from a script but with sincerity in her voice at the same time.
    "What does that mean?" I asked.
    "We create girls," she said.  "Pure sexual beings."
    "How?"
    "Well, for starters, our girls are genetically engineered for sexual functionality and appeal, aesthetic beauty, and a heightened libido.  For example, each one is capable of unending multiple orgasms.  In fact, they exist at the brink of orgasm every waking moment.  They want nothing but to be touched, kissed, and penetrated.  The feeling never dissipates, never weakens.  They exist in bliss and they deliver bliss to their partner.  Come, let me show you our first Selection: Flora Girl."
    We started down the right side of the hallway, towards the golden light, which, I discovered, came from a plate glass window about six feet wide and eight feet tall about knee-high off the ground, like a window display in a department store.
    When we reached it, I stopped dead in my tracks.  Inside was a breathtaking sight.
    It was a young girl, no more than eighteen years old—or made to look that way—lying naked in a bed of grass and clover and wrapped in flowery vines.  Her arms stretched out behind her head and were tied at the wrists with leather straps also wrapped in vines.  She had perfect honey-colored skin, round, perky breasts, and flowing brownish blonde hair freshly curled and decorated with daisies.  Her legs were spread apart and wrapped in more vines, giving the illusion that the vines had forced them open, and a bundle of white and yellow flowers partially obstructed two smooth, narrow labial lips, from which her pink clit barely budded.  The tiny vaginal opening dilated slightly, pulsing as if with her heartbeat, and a single bead of glistening juice bubbled out, hanging like dew on a flower.  I stared at that tiny