FM 2012

She didn't want me to stop and change the phasing but when I swung the eccentric so it worked in opposition, plunger up the bum as the vaginal plunger came out and vice versa, she went absolutely wild.

"Oh god,its tearing me apart, I love it stop it!" she said among other less intelligible squawks.

"Steve," she said, "I'm sore."

"There's plenty of KY," I said as I slowed the machine.

"Steve, that other ah stuff was better," she said innocently, "Get an empty Coffee cup would you?"

"No," I refused, but she grabbed my fly and janked the zipper down.

"Get a Coffee cup!" she repeated.

Well what could I do?, reach for a plastic beaker that's what, as my tool sprang to life, she reached over and kissed it and then quickly and ruthlessly milked the cum out of me, "there," she said, "that wasn't so bad was it?" as she gave me the beaker of cum to lubricate her dildo with.

I took the opportunity to change the eccentric phasing to ninety degrees with the Vagina leading and powered the machine up again.

"Oh yes," she said, Oh thats so good," she said "Put the suction on would you please?" she said slipping her cardigan, blouse and bra off, until she was quite naked except her watch which hardly counts.

I had forgotten the suction cups for her nipples, I tensioned the drive belt for the vacuum pump and slipped the cups over her straining nipples, "Ooh thats nice." she agreed. " Just a bit slower."

"I'm building a new one." I said.

"Mmmm, nice," she said, "Bit faster,"

"A new machine," I replied.

"Good," she said, "Then we can have one each."

"Ah no!" I explained, "For sale."

"Shut up ok," she said, "Bit faster, could you try a longer stroke next time please?" and she said it so sweetly.

The phone rang, it was George, "Shall I lock up or are you coming back Mr Stephenson," it was six o'clock already.

I rushed to Sarah, "Its six o'clock!" I gasped.

"So," she exclaimed, "Who cares?"

"Drain, Dwain whatever his name is?" I suggested.

"Ok, Ok," she insisted,"Damn!" and I turned off the power.

"Another half inch?" she said as I uncoupled the Vaginl plunger, look it will go another what?"

I had a tape measure so we pulled the plunger out as far as was comfortable and pushed it back between her now puffy and bruised cunt lip as far as possible and I measured it,

"Another inch if you like?" I suggested.

"Same time tomorrow?" she suggested, "For data for your new machine?" she added.

"I don't know," I said, "What about the twins?"

"Mother loves having them," she said, "See you."

I went back to work, George had the parts finished, we had the bearings and bearing housings I needed in stock and I just set to and assembled it, of course it didn't work, never does in real life does it?

But on the plus side my modified bed had arrived, it was rubbish, half the weight of the old one and flimsy as hell, I got on the phone.

"The bed's crap." I said.

"Yes," he agreed.

"Needs thicker Tubing," I said.

"Should have said," he said, "What you want?"

"Oh double the wall thickness at least," I said.

"Easier to weld that, deliver it Thursday," he said, "Same price? Cash?"

I agreed, "How about a refund?" he laughed and put the phone down.

The new machine didn't look right, It looked like it was lying on its side, and better still it didn't turn freely, but the crank adjustment worked brilliantly, just turn it till you had the stroke right and find a hole that lined up and stick an Allen bolt in, sorted.

It was around three a.m. before I got it to turn properly, I didn't like it, the con rod was from stock and fitted an old diesel engine originally and looked wrong on its side.

I realised there was more to fucking machine design than I had realised, but I resolved to get Sarah's opinion before I did any more.

I took the machine home in my van and collected the bed on my car carrier trailer next morning and bolted the new machine to the bed so all was all ready when Sarah arrived.

"It's gross," she said, "I'm not having that inside me." she insisted.

"But the plungers work much better this way," I said, "Vagina over Anus, the other is offset slightly."

"No, it's no good." she said.

"Wont you even test it?" I asked.

"No!" she snapped, "Damn, Duane's not due home till ten tonight."

"Poor Sarah, all horny again." I suggested.

"Very funny, what did you take the old machine apart for."

"I didn't," I said, "I adjusted the stroke," I said.

"So what are we waiting for?" she asked as she headed for Aunt Bessies's old room. "Strap me on she said as she undressed, throwing her jeans and high heels one way and her top another before lying back and letting me strap her feet into the boots..

She winced as I eased the red dildo inside her still puffy vagina lips unaware that I had sneakily substituted a larger size again, she groaned as I eased the smaller unit up her anus and as I started the motor she sighed as I attached the suction cups to her nipples, "Look I've got a remote control for the voltage and speed, Enjoy yourself." I said and literally went back to the drawing board.

I heard the motor seed varying for around an hour then it stopped and she shouted, "I need some Stevie Lube, bring a beaker."

"Look, you didn't want it before," I said, "You wanted Drain, so you want it you get it draft,"

She didn't waste a second, "Unstrap me then." she said, "Is your bed made," it did;t matter as it happened we only got as far as the landing before she had my trousers and shorts down and I just took her standing against the door post.

She was like an animal, a real bitch on heat, and I guess I was pretty over excited too and I pounded into her like it meant something.

"That's good, was it good for you?" she asked.

Better than nothing, "Yes good," I lied.

"Strap me in then!" she suggested, and she headed back to the machine.

"Why couldn't you fuck like that when we were married?" she asked.

"Why couldn't you?" I asked, she had no answer, but soon she was back on her back and having a great time.

Dorothy rang,"Is Sarah there?" she asked

"In body if not mind why?" I replied.

"Twins!" Dorothy replied.

"Thanks so much for looking after them!" I replied and put the phone down and then left it off the hook, I picked up my drawing book and started doodling.

It was another Eureka moment, I could use a fixed throw crankshaft and vary the stroke with an intermediate lever, ok it looked like something off a 1930's steam locomotive but if the ass eccentric drove from the middle of the crankshaft with a journal ....

It looked right, crikey, it looked very good indeed and the ass rod could be truly on the same centre-line as the other just slightly lower, driving through a slot in the compensating rod, hell I could even put a compensator in Horizontally to vary the stroke of the ass rod.

I rushed to show Sarah, "Sarah, I've cracked it," I said urgently.

"Ten more minutes OK," she said.

"Look," I insisted, She looked at me, "Fuck, you spoiled the moment," she said, "What is it?" and she let the machine glide to a halt.

"Look," I showed her the drawing.

"Looks like a steam engine, I like this one," she said, "Go away."

"But the stroke is adjustable with a screw and it's fail safe and," I explained.

"What part of Fuck off don't you understand?" she said.

"How the hell did I ever fall for you?" I asked.

"I'm gorgeous and you were desperate," she suggested now go," she realised I was unplugging the machine from the mains, "hey no!" she protested.

"Time to pick up the kids and be mummy again." I said, "Don't you work anymore?"

"Women's problems," she laughed. "Same time tomorrow?" she asked.

"No," I insisted, "You'll get the sack," and I insisted "Friday maybe."

I stood outside the factory gate looking, once Stephensons workshops had stretched the whole length of the street and folklore was that we were related to the Stephensons who designed the "Rocket" but we came from Ramsgate originally not Northumberland, now it was fancy housing along our street and just the old B shop remained as my empire, and that only because I managed to do a deal with my sisters.

The order book was pretty thin, as always, we kept making things for stock or at cost to keep ticking over but I couldn't get the idea of fucking machines out of my mind, I called a meeting at half past nine, when Andy finally wandered in, I stood on the office steps and said, "I expect you're wondering."

"No mate we know you're fucking finished, divorcing that fucking bitch wife cleaned you out," Andy announced, with all the swagger owning a 900 cc Kawasaki endows.

"Yeah," Charlie announced, "Hardings are hiring so if they take us you can stuff the job,"

"Yeah," Stan said "Forty years I been working for Stephensons and."

"Who wants a reference, then," I asked, eight hands shot up.

"Fine, see me after dinner," I suggested, but I had references for them all by ten, except Stan, and George.

"Get off down Hardings and good luck," I said and then there was George and Charlie and Phil our apprentice and Georgio who was Ukranian and shouldn't have been in the country.

I had a meeting when the others were gone.

"Look we got an order for specialist machinery," I said, "Fucking machines."

"Yeah, my Gramp said Stephensons made Fucking machines, steam ones mainly," Charlie said, "They tried electric ones but the accumulators weren't up to it."

"What!" I asked.

"Yeah, Stephensons Widdows Comforters, all the rage before the first war, course when they found French letters in the war the demand weren't there so the the old man went over to subcontracting for Fodens steam lorries."

"I found an WEC 1909 in the old house." I suggested.

"Yeah, that was the electric one, it didn't work," he said his wizened line face crinkling as he laughed "they reckoned the accumulators boiled." Charlie said as he lit up a Cigarette despite the no smoking signs hung everywhere

"Well it goes bloody well on MGB batteries." I said.

"It's all very well making them but who the hell would buy one." George asked.

"Look Steve, if you can sell them we'll make them." George added.

"Who wants a Widdows comforter," Young Phil piped up, "it's a Fucking Machine so why not call it fucking machine."

"Yeah," I said, "So when someone asks what you make you can say Fucking Machines."

"He does already," Giorgio insisted, "But Steve, how d'you sell them?"

"Leave that to me," I suggested, "We'll start on Monday."

I worked on those drawings, the Laser CAD program did the WEC 1909 drawings almost for me but the new 2009 Fucking Machine, was different, I had to actually design the damn thing.

Sarah rang up on Friday, "My Solicitor says you laid off most of the staff?"

"Yes," I agreed.

"He says you're doing it to reduce my settlement." she said.

"No," I told her, "I'm going to manufacture Fucking Machines."

"Oh," she said, "Can I have one?"

"Minimum order is ten," I informed her, "that's two hundred thousand pounds."

"I'll test them then." she said.

"What about your job?" I asked.

"They sacked me weeks ago," she said, "Don't tell mum."

"I should have the first ready for Saturday." I offered.

"I'll be over," she said.

"Any ideas who would want one?" I asked.

"Yes, tell you what you make them I'll sell them." she offered, "We make a great team."

The first was ready for Saturday, it wasn't exactly perfect, and although Sarah came over just after ten it was nearly midnight when we gave up, the adjustable stroke mechanism kept creeping towards a shorter stroke, it was very frustrating especially for Sarah, and it was around six in the evening when she grabbed my by the ear and marched me to "our" old bedroom.

"If your machine can't satisfy me you'll have to do it manually," she suggested, which was hardly the most romantic method of seduction but it worked.

"Do you like that," she asked, as she squeezed me with her cunt muscles, "Duane likes me to do that,"

"Great!" I agreed, "You never did that to me,"

"No!" she said, "Do something then," I thought I was, as I pounded into Sarah energetically, at least I thought I was, maybe by third rate black footballer standards I was pathetic, but.

"You haven't kissed me," Sarah complained, "You always kiss me, I miss you kissing me," she complained, it was easily solved, I kissed her on the mouth,

"Mmmm," she said, "That's nice!" and she wrapped her legs around me, "That machine is all right but it's a lousy kisser,"

"So I have my uses?" I said.

"Duane is six feet three," she muttered, "He's too tall to kiss when he fucks me," she said, "And he likes to squash against my boobies,"

"Not a gentleman then?" I asked.

"No," Sarah said, "Pure animal!"

I suppose we made love for half an hour all told and then it was back to work for Sarah.

We needed a lock on the lead screw for the stroke adjuster, it was no big deal but Sarah didn't like the vacuum pump which was a rotary and produced a constant suction instead of the pulsing of the positive displacement type on the old machine, but with Vise grips locking the screw and an extra Tee piece so I could rhythmically release and recreate the Vacuum she gradually agreed the new machine had potential especially as the offset of the Anal penetrator from the Vaginal one was removed.

Duane rang to say they were celebrating and he would be home on Sunday so Sarah quite reasonably said it was a waste of fuel to go home and she stayed with me, in our old bed.

"Good night," I said.

"Night," she replied, "Love you," I thought it was an automatic response, but then I never really realised how devious she was.

She was up before me.

"That frame is no good," she said, "It should just sit on the floor and sort of fit over the end of a Divan,"

"Right," I agreed,

"I made you some toast," she said, "Aluminium finish, and light grey, maybe pink." she said.

"Who put you in charge?" I said.

"Only of the colours, I'm only making suggestions, if you don't want to sell any don't listen." she said in her usual bossy manner, "It's nice here."

"You're not having it, it has to be sold remember," I reminded her, "when you agree the division of assets."

"Can you put the old machine in the summerhouse?" she asked.

"On the Island?" I asked as we had a little summerhouse in our little lake in the garden. she nodded, "How the hell do I do that?"

"It's not deep," she said, so that's why I was wading through shoulder deep water carrying the bed and machine components through Sunday lunchtime and then I had to clean our little row boat out.

Sarah meanwhile had invited some of her Wag friends over, she told them I was a mechanic, and after Pimms took them to the summerhouse.

Obviously I wasn't allowed over but as I listened from the Lawn it was clear from the squeals and laughs that she was demonstrating the machine and that they thought it was great.

She showed them the new machine later, and I had done a computer generated image of the finished item, all brushed aluminium and polished stainless steel with anodised and stove enamelled pink detailing.

"Claire wants one," she said, "Can we deliver by Friday?"

"Crikey, we've lots of testing to do." I exclaimed.

"If I stop over?" she said.

"It would help." I agreed, "How much?"

"Twenty Two thousand," she said, "Ginny wanted the old one so I said they were fifty thousand, to put her off."

I had a massive shock when I checked my emails on Monday morning, Ginny wanted an old machine, a genuine 1909 WEC 2009, and she was happy to pay £50K, Claire coinfirmed her order for a new machine and twenty other people wanted brochures, what brochures?

Sarah had the answer, she wore a mask and I photographed her riding the machines and then she digitally altered the pictures, to show the bodywork and new plinth arrangement I devised, I'm not sure using Labour politicians faces on her head was a good idea, but they certainly illustrated the machines in action.

"What shall we call the new machine?" I asked as we climbed into bed Monday evening.

"How about 2012 Fucking machine," she said. It was alright as a working title.

"How about FM 2012?" I asked.

"Mmmm, Night, love you," she said, "You won't tell anyone I've broken up with Duane will you?" she queried, "Only your mum will want us to have the kids now the divorce is off."

"It's off is it?" I asked.

"Oh yes," she agreed, "Until you make a FM 2012 that cums like you do."

"Hey you might just have something there!" I exclaimed as I sat bolt upright and looked around for a pencil.

"That reminds me why I wanted a divorce," she said and yawned, "Night night."