The Mechanics of Sex

I opened my eyes and looked into his. He had that smile on his face like he used to have when we made extra special love. Those times when everything went just that little bit better, making me so happy and him so pleased that he had fulfilled me.

I wanted to ask him to stop it for a while at least, but the look of pure pleasure in his eyes made me hold my tongue. I had not seen that look for a while, in fact not since his heart attack.

I bit my lip to stop me begging him to slow it down or better still give me a break. I just didn't have the heart to spoil this for him; I rode out several more violent peaks. It was almost unbearable, but I wanted it to never end.

Have you ever done something that was so draining it made you feel as if all your energy was used up but you didn't want to stop? Well that's how this damn machine had me right now. I was torn between the pleasure and the agony of total exhaustion, but it wasn't my decision. He was in charge. I couldn't move and, because of his obvious pleasure, I couldn't speak. I simply couldn't ask him to turn it off.

But even if I had put myself before his so intense enjoyment of being able to make his wife come at his will, would he actually switch it off? He had the power to do whatever he wanted.

I passed out with the intensity of the continuous orgasm, and when I came to the thing was still stroking gently in and out of my pussy. It was much slower now, just keeping me at boiling point.

I looked up at him, the control in his hand, wondering if he realised just how much he had made me come. Did he realise what agony and joy he had caused in my body? After only fingers and the odd dildo recently, I was also out of practice.

Hanging there helpless, in his contraption, with that sewing machine motor still purring away I knew my days of sexual frustration were over. He could make me come whenever he wanted to and for how long he wanted to. It was just like before but with the added advantage that this thing never got tired and certainly never went limp.

He asked me if I had enjoyed it, I tried to sound upbeat because he was obviously so happy his machine had done the business. I told him it was wonderful but I needed a rest now. He smiled and said "Are you sure?"

I replied "Yes my darling, I have got to get used to coming like that all over again. It's been a long time since you made me climax so many times. Promise you will do it to me again."

He eased the dildo out and lowered me down, pulling the camp bed under me as he did so. His fingers worked at the straps, releasing me from their hold. It wasn't until I tried to stand I realised just how knackered I was. My legs felt like rubber.

He had to hold me in his arms for ages until I could manage to stand alone. He was surprised at my incapacity and I don't think he knew just how effective his latest invention was, how potent it felt as it drove me to climax after climax.

Well, our problems are over now and whenever I need to feel myself full to the brim with hard cock all I have to do is ask. He is much happier seeing me so satisfied by his wonderful machine. He has refined it several times including one variant that is small and portable. It is mounted on a board and I can take it to the bedroom and give myself a really good fucking whenever I feel the need.

With the help of some expensive but effective herbal tablets and gentle, prolonged, stimulation he got it up long enough for me to make a cast of his cock at full erection. Of course he made several different models from the mould, and I just love them all, so much more that any of the mass produced ones. Now I am even happier, knowing that it is his cock that still penetrates me every time I switch that machine on.

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My sincere thanks go to my editor 'grumpyg' for sorting out the punctuation, correcting grammar and otherwise improving the readability of this story.