AfrAId To Connect

Ian sat across from Natasha, hands twitching in his lap. His words came out rough—he hadn't touched his girlfriend in months. The sessions had dragged on, but this time Natasha pushed harder. Then the truth landed like a slap: his girlfriend wasn't real. Just code. An AI chatbot he talked to every night. Natasha's eyes went sharp. She leaned forward, voice low and steady. "You need something real." Ian froze. She stood, locked the door, and came closer. Her fingers found his belt before he could think. He tried to pull away but the hunger hit too fast. Clothes hit the floor in a rush. Natasha shoved him back on the couch, climbed on top, and took him deep. Her hips rolled hard, skin slapping skin. Ian grabbed her waist and drove up into her, breath ragged. Every thrust felt like breaking rules. Sweat slicked their bodies. She moaned low, nails digging into his chest, riding him until his mind went blank and the loneliness burned out in the heat between them.