A cold night turns...well, warm.
Alright, ladies and gentlemen, horny teens who read yaoi, perverts and erotic-reading women. Who would like to read this chapter that contains the number-one position ever, the sixty-nine? Honestly, this is my favorite story I've written so far; pretty much like it. Plus, I might as well do short summaries of what is going to go on in some chapters...for now.
This chapter roughly takes place of events after "Crimes of the Hot," one of my many favorite Futurama episodes.
Also, just a little heads-up that this chapter is somewhat explicit.
Birch trees and pines were covered in a glittery frost that shined like tiny diamonds. The fog was just as cold as Jack Frost's breath. The forest was nothing but a dark place to be in. The lake was already starting to become solid as a hard rock. Every acre, every damn ground of brown, was covered in an inch of pure frosty blue. New New York in just thirty miles over was nothing but a quiet place. No hover cars; no yelling; no birds tweeting; hell, not even a echo of a dog barking was heard. What was once a never-sleep city was now in a deep slumber. The sky that was once bright blue with puffy white clouds that resembled of marshmallows or cotton candy, now was a dark black of a void.
So ask yourself this: Why is New New York all cold and dark and quiet? What ever happened to the Sun being warm on the city? Well, remember when the Professor Farnsworth himself told every robot on Galapagos Island to release their gases from their exhausts in order to move the Earth away from a laser that President Nixon and the Headless Body of Agnew were going to fire so they could ridden all robots? And after that happened, it made the Earth's rotation a week longer? Ring a bell? Of course you fucking remember, we all saw it happen.
You see, because the Earth was moved, that meant it was also now more farther away from the Sun. Because it moved away from the Sun more, that meant a much surprisingly drastic change in the weather. The results ended up in an minus seventy-two week-long winter-like measure. This extra week was called "Frostbite Week." Frostbite Week meant that there will be no Sun from Farnsworth's extra week. Everything would be as cold as Hell's winter. So precautions were made: nobody would be able to go out on "Frostbite Week" because there had been hypothermia deaths, so they had to stay in their homes.
But not only this had caused weather changes, this also made a person's sleep cycle produce more melatonin in their bodies, which made people sleep throughout the entire week, but of course, their sleeping was slower. But this was where things also had gotten strange, this was Farnsworth's creation, yet he was never blamed.
Now then, back to where we started already. Just thirty miles from New New York was a huge forest that was well respected. The forest had a large lake the size of two football stadiums. Trees like birch and pine were often growing. Shrubs and bushes were now like a painter's brush. Just between two large, four-foot tall shrubs was a long hover car covered in camouflage blanket to be in its surrounding. It was off just to be safe.
This hover car belong to Robot Mafia leader, Donbot Smith. But the stout robot wasn't even the one in the car. Allow me to explain why.
Just at least a day before Frostbite Week, the mafioso and his mobsters, Joey and Clamps, were hiding from the police after they stole a whole bag of cash worth ten million and a crate of Zuban tobacco cigars. The leader was immediately reminded of Frostbite Week by one of goons, Joey. Donbot pondered for a bit, thinking of a plan—wondering what to do in a distressing situation. Donbot finally laid out a plan: someone was going to stay in his hover car as he and his other goon made out the winter safe, so that way the goon staying in the car would guard their loot. Donbot announced that he and Joey would make out the Frostbite Week—Francis guarding the loot.
Of course, Francis didn't really much argue about that. He kept to himself and nodded along the plan. Donbot later threw the keys at Francis as he stepped his foot out. "Whatever you do: Do not get our loot stolen by anyone else. And I wanna make sure that this car was exactly what it looked like; no turned-up stains on the carpet. I just had it washed." Francis was a little disappointed in fact, he was dressed-up for a date tonight: grey jacket and pants with a flattering pastel pink shirt.
He didn't want to be alone though. He did the accepted thing and called up Beelzy (his date). Beelzebot himself was dog-sitting the adult Border Collie and the fully-healthy smaller one. Beelzy received a phone call, a unfamiliar voice telling him to bring anything that was warm, the dogs, plus a wooly light blanket along with a two-foot pillow.
Later, both manbots setted-up a pillow and blanket on the car floor for them to sleep while the Border Collies were given full bellies of raw steak to eat so they could sleep without an empty stomach. Both dogs had their bed set up for them to sleep.
Tonight was the first night of Frostbite Week, the coldest damnation of them all. Everything was all ready according to the weather. Everything was dark and cold. Both manbots were on their left sides, the blanket covering their halves and their heads resting on the cool pillow. Francis was still wearing his date clothing and had his arms around the horned robot. The Robot Devil was wearing a black hoodie with light-cloth dark-grey sweatpants. In the corner, two white-and-black fur-balls were curled-up to each other, father and daughter Mr. Pickles and Mrs. Pickles were.
On cue, a gust of blistering cold air entered from a partly opened window and twirled for a moment, it did its usual whisper and swooped down and clashed itself on Beelzy. The Robot Devil's teeth chattered and his body shivered violently, practically vibrating. The clamping unit stirred. "What's wrong, baby?" Francis whispered.
"I-I-I'm c-cold," Beelzy shuddered, rubbing his arms. Francis wasn't even effected by the cold, he was still in his natural state of peacefulness. Beelzy on the other hand was the opposite. A wisp of breath left Beelzy's mouth, making a white cloud.
Francis sighed heavily, "Come here now..." he said in a casual mutter. His arms coiled the Robot Devil's waist and pulled him closer, making his back touch Francis' front body. The Robot Devil hugged himself and shuddered; tonight wasn't gonna be a piece of cake. It was as cold as Satan's heart. The floor he was laying on didn't feel comfortable and it felt like he was sleeping on a flat tablet of stone. Nothing was keeping him warm. Shit, he might as well just cut open a miserable horse and crawl inside it to keep warm.
But tonight...something was getting more and more comfortable as the seconds slowly went by. Beelzy had a strange feeling blooming inside him. It was the way that Francis was holding him: all tightly around his waist and hugging him close to his chest made it absolutely just adorable. His shivering was getting more calmer the more he was held on to.
Francis coiled his arms once more tightly, like a snake suffocating its prey. Beelzy felt a bit too cool, as it was only the first night. The car was too dark to see, and only his yellow technical eyes shined brightly like soft-glow headlights. Francis leaned in to the crook of the Robot Devil's neck and nuzzled it slightly, a little noise was heard from the horned robot.
A loud groan withdrew from Beelzebot as his tail curled and a building pressure was in his abdomen. Beelzy didn't hesitate as he felt his inner thighs grow moist and decided to check himself down there. His hand trailed itself down his body and reached to his lower region. He felt the outside of the sweatpants and they felt wet. Goddamn, he was horny.
It felt as if his spine turned to gold when Francis spoke again. "Here, mind if I do somethin'?" Beelzy just kept to himself and didn't answer him. He was now as stiff as a board when he felt one of Francis' clamps slip inside his hoodie and touch him, his cold metal touching his slightly warm chest. Beelzy shivered, he was too cold, way too cold; like ice. The other clamp then moved itself around until it was behind the Robot Devil and slipped his clamp where his crotch was. Not only he felt warm, but he felt wet.
"Gotten aroused, eh?" Francis questioned, removing both of his clamps until they gripped the waistline of the sweatpants. Beelzy put a hand over his mouth to prevent any sudden noise from happening as the sweatpants were professionally removed and gotten off his ankles. Heat radiated from his crotch, indicating how warm he was. A shocked yelp echoed throughout the hover car when an icy sensation stung his crotch. Immediately, a sharp "Shh!" followed by a "Be quiet, there is a slight chance someone is here, too!"
A sudden shuffle in the room made Beelzy almost choke out a noise, his eyes trailed and fell on a still-sleeping Mr. Pickles. The Border Collie, eyes still closed, stretched out his limbs—his toes curling, and relaxed himself next to the smaller pup once again. His jaw smacking its lips a few times. Good, it was only just Mr. Pickles doing the noise. Fucking quietness...
Francis simply rolled his technical eyes; Beelzy had always been so paranoid lately—even with the tiniest of noises. Luckily it was only just the two of them. If anyone even was out there, he'd be pretty damn fast just to drive the hover car outta fucking forest for all he cared fo—Oh shit, he remembered: Donbot told him that there will be absolutely no way there'll be stains on the carpet. So does that even count for the Robot Devil simply not cumming? Of course it did, idiot! Francis scolded himself. Francis felt his pants get tight, he had to do something.
"Look," Francis began, softly, "Boss said that he needs to expect no stains on the carpet. So that means that I can still please you, just not..."
"Not what?"
Francis stayed silent for a few moments. "Just not make ya climax all over the carpet. I'm afraid we're gonna have to do dry orgasms." A jingle of a belt being unbuckled was heard—though, sounds of slight frustration were heard despite the fact that Francis was undoing his belt with one clamp. The same thing on the zipper but with no problem. Francis knew he was pretty big, he just doesn't like to boast like some other men do. He'd remembered about that one time he was walking down the streets of Manhattan where he had overheard a very adult conversation between two teenagers.
"Dude! You should've seen the way my girl was moaning! My dick practically teared her a new one!" One of the boys exclaimed before motioning his hips thrusting while grunting to prove a point on what he meant.
The other teenage male scoffed: "Bro, to be fair, I'm, like, three inches bigger than you!" He exclaimed before sizing his hands. Francis did a simple eye-roll and continued his walk. It was none other than your simple excuse for a guy's dick to be small. No wonder why men are high-buyers in Ferraris. And another reason for males to be embarrassed about buying Viagra in front of a cashier. Just another excuse for men to be ashamed of their cock sizes. It wasn't bad, it was a number of manners that only men have to deal with. But at least women find a way to get off of faking orgasms—sex toys are always a woman's trusty sidekick.
Beelzy though, on the other hand, wasn't much of a fan of dry orgasms. What is all the fun in that? It was like a catcher in a baseball field not catching any balls at all! He flinched...something long and cold created a slow friction at an annoying pace that women couldn't even handle. It burned like fire, but was cold. Beelzy did a pleading whimper and resisted from digging his sharp claw-like fingers in the carpet. He couldn't handle the fact that Francis' shaft was icy against his warm crotch. More echoes of sounds mounted out of Beelzebot.
With softly glowing yellow eyes that had still pupils, Francis then shifted his hips so he could get comfortable. Then, he then moved his hips so the shaft of his bronze dick was visible to him. He saw that his length was covered in the same slimy-essence fluid Beelzy produces. He pulled back some more, then, swiftly made a thrust in a smooth motion. The whole forest echoed with a scream emerging from the horned robot, and birds that used to be rested in their nests on the branches of birches fluttered for a new spot.
A gasp was sudden from Francis, who gripped the horned robot's hips tightly and hissed: "Shh! Be quiet! Someone could hear us!"
At that point, his blood-red claws were just minutes away from tearing the carpeted floor, Francis' icy shaft did a hot-cold burning sensation on his lower region. At the same time, his warm and wet insides seemed to build up more heat and lubricate the shaft so he would move easily. But, he was also concern if he'd woken the large, big-breeded dogs from his scream. A slight twitch from the adult Border Collie's thigh was just his answer. His body then jerked as he felt Francis thrust into him.
It...It felt weird, at first, as he was entering inside the male, he felt warm except when he pulled out, it was back to that fucking cold. Each of Robot Devil's abdomen was violently felt like it was going in various knots that felt a bit painful. His claws were already proceeding to puncture the carpet. Heavy breathing sounded similiar to gasping breaths. It was such a record to have his spots getting hit repeatedly over and over again. Though, he had to obey the number one rule Francis settled: Never cum on the Donbot's carpet 'cause he had it washed. God, he wanted to cum, but it seemed useless. Only drips of climax juices leaked down his thighs.
Francis panted heavily in between his thrusting. Pressure was increasing with his cock as he felt himself getting a cold sweat. Or perhaps dry orgasms were a bad idea. Francis could feel the Robot Devil's insides clenching onto his shaft, which was a signal that he was close to orgasm, but he knew that the Donbot would be very disappointed in him if he found a single stain on his freshly shampoo'd carpet. So he might as well do something quickly about this "bad" idea.
He pulled out, in which Beelzy did a small groan, but that small groan quickly turned into a gasp of shock when he found himself on top of the clamping unit. His body was in different locations of the bronze robot—his face was facing Francis' shaft and his crotch was above the unit's face. The juices were soaked very heavily, to the point where rivulets of the slime were in long, thick lines that broke and dropped on his face like raindrops. Immediately, Francis pushed his face into the red robot's crotch. A whimper was heard as Francis began to lap up the thick production of slime. Wincing, the Robot Devil involuntarily moved his hips a bit, making himself ride the bronze unit's face just a tad bit.
Beelzy looked at Francis' hard member once more, the bronze cock was already leaking itself some precum in a trail of black. It was still stiff, not one inch had gone down since the rough sex. He did a face of nervousness, he knew what Francis was doing and what was he trying to make him do. Leaning forward once more, he used his sleeved arms to prop himself up—each arm was outside of Francis' legs. Though, he was taller than Francis, so his back was hunched a bit so his head was positioned just above his penis. The Robot Devil didn't twice as he opened his mouth, his tongue rolling out of his mouth, and did a swift motion of his head down to the bronze unit's crotch. At least four inches got into his mouth.
Francis' legs gotten numb and slightly shivered a bit, but he kept going in at his explicit work of suckling the candy-flavored fluid. He felt Beelzy's tongue lap around his shaft while his mouth was mostly doing all the pleasing. Finding his sweet, tender spot of where he usually climaxes, he "licked" that tender spot. A muffled sound was heard, and a river of sticky liquid landed in heavy, wet globs that coated his face and neck—smelling of strawberries and sugar-sweetened things. Robot Devil's eyes widened in shock as something from Francis' shaft bursted out in lines that were just as black as his jacket and the week's first night. Slipping itself into hs mouth and down his throat, a musky scent was left behind but had a somewhat a taste that could never leave his mouth. The black robot cum all was left was stains on the edges of Francis' zipper.
Read and review. Wow, this took me a while to finish. Hope you like it.