The Denial Dimension

John set down the sheaf of deployment papers onto the table, exasperated. His wife Sherri sat with him on the couch, her feet in his lap, resting her head on her knuckles.

"It feels like you only just got back," she lamented.

John was a navigation technician for the starship Deep Well. It was as glorious as it sounded: A whole lot of sitting around, waiting for something to go wrong. As well as it paid, it still numbed the mind to nothingness.

"How long this time?" Sherri asked, running her foot along her husband's side with a reassuring petting.

John forced a gentle, resigned smile, "I come back December 1st."

He felt a pit in his stomach. He was home and he already missed his wife. It was a problem he had: anticipation. He was the kind of person to buy a sweater and imagine it collecting dust in its closet. He was quick to think of where something was going, and it brought anxieties and sorrows during moments that should be satisfying and joyful. Why was he already souring his mood, when right now he should be using every precious second mindfully?

"The whole month?" Sherri was saddened, too, but she inhaled deeply as she added, "Well, that's good. A short trip, at least."

John couldn't help himself, "Yeah, until I get back and they ship me out again same-week--for even longer."

Sherri put a hand on his shoulder. John looked at her. And, for a bit, he felt alright. Though, he felt no better than alright.

"Thanks, honey," John kissed his wife's cheek, "Sorry."

"Stop being so negative," Sherri smiled playfully, "You know you're ugly when you scowl."

John rolled his eyes and half-smiled, "I do not scowl," he said, shaking his head.

"No, you glower," Sherri made a severe face.

The two laughed and held each other. For a while, Sherri traced a finger along John's chest. John rubbed his hand along Sherri's thigh. She looked at him in his half-undressed distraction. His dress shirt was unbuttoned, his undershirt tight against him. His gray pants were open at the waist, undone with belt ends hanging out from either side. His black hair was neat and tight against his head, with an errant coil springing up, avoiding his notice.

He squeezed her leg, firmly. She saw the veins on his forearm pronounce, like she was watching his heartrate increase. She looked up and saw him staring at her with his full focus drawn away from the distractions of work. His gaze didn't waver from hers.

He said in his calm, level voice, "Come with me to the bed."

Sherri swallowed, smirking, "Hold on there," she felt her heart try to run away with her thoughts, but she kept to her plan.

She said, "Hey, since you'll be gone all of November... how about we participate?"

John raised an eyebrow, "Oh, is this a power play, Sherri?"

Sherri threw her chin up with cartoonish defiance, "You read me like a book. So wise, John. I'm serious: Can you try to go this month without cumming?"

John shrugged, "I guess I could. It shouldn't be too difficult away from you."

Sherri shook her head, "No, I'm thinking something different."

Sherri hopped over to the bookshelf and withdrew a box. She showed its contents to John. There was a ring, and beside it was another ring with some kind of harness. John looked, quizzically, up from the contraption into the radiant face of his wife. Her beaming visage was grinning ear-to-ear. John opened his mouth, "What is--"

"It's an aperture device!" Sherri cut him off excitedly.

She grabbed the ring with wild fervor, "This thing is where it comes out, and--" she was too fast, and the harness fell to the ground.

She knelt to the ground, retrieving it quickly, "--and this goes on your dick!"

The aperture technology created a portal that teleported an object. This harness and ring were a pair with a wormhole between them: When worn, the harness would swallow John's genitals and output them to the ring. They operated to any distance, instantly.

She looked at his bewildered face. There was a long pause, because Sherri expected John to ask a question and John expected Sherri to explain more. Since neither spoke, Sherri grabbed John's waistband.

John's strong hand held hers in his grip. John stood silently, and as he did he slid out from his pants. Sherri, kneeling in front of him, faced her husband's groin. She saw a thick, horizontal outline tracing a soft shadow across his front, tapering down to a tip as it ran to his hip. She never got used to its size; as big as it looked naked, it somehow seemed larger when covered.

John put a hand under her chin, lifting her eyes to look up at him. She struggled to ignore his more exciting appendage. He told her, "I'll play your game, but you'll need to take care of me before we start."

Sherri grinned, "This is so hot. Okay: Starting tomorrow, you'll wear this harness and it'll mean that I have control of your dick for the month."

She crept a finger under his underwear, but before she pulled them down John added, "And, in exchange for letting you own me for November, I expect to be able to own you for December."

Sherri nodded, her heart starting to run in her chest. John stepped close to her, staring down into her bright eyes. She stared up at him, feeling so wonderfully little. John brushed the hair from her face.

The thought of him, at her mercy for a whole month, excited her deeply. She was so often the one playing powerless, that this opportunity was one of her fantasies. John was a man of planning and control, who did well with decision-making. Sherri was the spontaneous one, adaptable and quick to roll with his frameworks. She wanted to see how he'd react when he was beholden to her plans.

Sherri put a hand on his hip and squeezed against the feeling of his pelvis bone.. She responded with ambition, "Yes. You get to have me, every day, however you want for all of December."

She held eye contact with him as long as she could, but couldn't help glancing down at the movement in his pants. Her eyes darted back and forth between the impression of her husband's cock and his unwavering, alert blue eyes.

"If," she tried to take charge, "you can last the month without begging to cum. You know I'll make it torture."

"Alright," he agreed, "Only one of us needs to cum that badly."

He grabbed her face in his strong hand and she breathed heavily. She pulled down his clothes and lost her sense. That night, knowing that they'd be apart, they didn't get much sleep. They were far too busy fucking to get any real rest.

It was the next morning, Day 1, when John departed, beginning his first day of a month of boredom. He finished his duties, then sat back to wait for the Deep Well to follow its routing. He idly texted home to check on his wife. A text message came from her.

Sherri: I'm going to the bathroom, need to go?

John: I guess we need to learn how to coordinate that. Fine.

Sherri took her toy with her, petting it like an animal as she sat down to the toilet. She handled herself, then had a devious thought.

Sherri: I'll let you know when you're aimed right.

John: Be careful not to drop the ring.

Sherri started stroking John's cock. The smooth shaft was trimmed hairless, as they both preferred. She grabbed it at the base and flopped it around, swinging it and slapping its long tip against the palm of her other hand. She pumped it in her loosely encircled grip, halfheartedly, not really trying to be pleasurable. She went up and down from its base to halfway up, each second feeling the thing getting rigid. When she stopped to survey her work, she saw her husband at full-mast in front of her. Protruding from the ring resting on her knee, his dick would stretch from her chin to forehead. She fondly remembered checking, and smiled to herself.

She stood, turned around, and aimed the thing toward the toilet.

Sherri: Okay, ready? You can fire away lol

John: I'm very obviously not ready.

John sat with his arms crossed and an expression of effort on his face. This was... hard. He grunted, exasperated, and walked to the restroom on the ship. He shut the private room's door and stared at the toilet, forcing himself over the mental hurdle.

When it began, Sherri cackled like a witch. It was so weird! After several seconds, it stopped. Then, Sherri squinted, uncertain. Did she... squeeze it like a tube of toothpaste to clean it? She'd heard of shaking it, but didn't really know how that was supposed to work, mechanically, with the rigid thing she'd forced it to be.

John had to explain it to her, embarrassed with the situation despite himself.

On Day 2, Sherri ended the night with a shower. The devices were fully waterproof, so there was no concern for its function or safety. But, she was extremely worried about ensuring that it wouldn't fall. She couldn't set it on the floor, since she was worried she'd step on it. She placed it on the small relief in the wall of their shower.

As she cleaned herself, she spared some amount of soap and made sure to deeply attend to her husband's part. She ran her fingers along his balls, gently rolling them in her hands with the lightest touch. She lathered them into white clouds, and in doing so excited the main member. John's dick rose to attention, inviting her to clean it. Diligently, she made sure it would be spotless.

All the while, John tossed and turned in his bed,

On Day 3, Sherri decided to toy with John a bit more actively. She had let him acclimate to life without a dick, but now it was time to go on the attack.

Sherri: How's it feeling after a few days?

John: Kind of itchy, but it's fine.

John winced as he pinched a harness strap through his pants and adjusted slightly.

Sherri: Aw, poor baby

Sherri worked from home in logistics for a local company. It was one of those nonsense jobs where you move numbers back and forth on a screen. But, it gave her unparalleled time to herself at the house. She was completely free to torment her man for the next month, and she would take her time with it.

Sherri: Let me help you with that

Sherri slid the ring device across her desk. Sitting in front of her was her husband's genitals, hanging out from the portal. She reached a fingernail up and started scratching lightly along her husband's dick. She ran along the top side of its length, quickly flicking her finger starting just before the head and tracing back to its base.

Sherri: How's that feel?

John grunted, sitting up in his chair.

John: The itch is on the underside.

Sherri smiled to herself. For a while, she just stared at it as it reacted to her. It pumped up like an inflatable yard ornament. As it did, the entire structure adjusted. She sat forward, her face only inches away. It was unusually pretty: its skin was without the usual darkening discoloration that these organs tended to have, and the veins on it weren't of an ugly prominence. Instead, it was like a strong rod.

The long thing twitched in anticipation, awkward and helpless. Sherri giggled, letting it wait on her to help relieve it of its discomfort. She saw the balls shift, neat and tightly packed in their sack, symmetrical and ordered right in front of her. Really, her husband had the best equipment. She was tempted to put it in her. But, as much as this month would test John, it would also test her ability to test him. She'd need to practice restraint in her own way.

John: Babe, I can't itch it myself.

Sherri flicked the tip, sending it bouncing back and forth. John grit his teeth to prevent from yelping out. Then, Sherri finally scratched the underside of his dick. John audibly sighed.

The door to John's room slid open. He turned to his coworker, Kate. She asked, "Are you excited for a month of nothing?"

John steadied his breathing, revealing nothing of his current predicament. He chuckled, playing pleasantry, "Oh yeah, definitely on the 'hardly working' side of the spectrum."

Sherri licked her lips. Staring at her husband's cock had made her interested. She reached up with one hand, grasping it around the base. She was gentle and light, not yet having lubricated it. She ran her closed hand up it a bit, careful not to pull any skin tight. She moved only a little, rocking her hand back and forth near the thing's base.

John, sitting at his desk, kept his cool. Kate leaned against the wall, "Hey, did you see that email from this morning?"

John felt his dick getting pumped by his wife, but compartmentalized his feelings well. "Which one?" he replied.

He felt his wife's hand leave his penis. He sighed a release of tension. Kate said, "From sales."

"Oh yea-UH!" John coughed to cover up his reaction.

Something cold and wet had touched his member. Sherri had pumped some lotion into her hand, which signaled that she meant business. She ran her hand up John's full length, then back down. Then back up. She started slowly, for several long strokes, preparing her husband for an involved handjob session.

John nodded, "Yeah, Bill's retiring. Good for him, he stayed longer than he should've."

Sherri pumped him faster and faster, gaining speed. Kate said, "For sure, I'm happy for him. Granted, I'm also happy that he's gone. He was always so slow."

By some divine cruelty, Sherri stopped pumping. John had just felt the very first step: That sensation in the groin like an opening of a gate, a shift in the chemicals in the area that tells you orgasm is not near, but on the table.

Unfamiliar with the device, he didn't know that Sherri was so acutely aware of his state. The ring device on Sherri's desk beeped, and a green light flashed. She smiled: It worked. The thing was warning her when it sensed a change in the physiology of the inserted part. It could tell her when John was close to cumming. This warning, the green light, told her that John was aroused. But her eyes could've told her that: She saw a bead of precum pool at the tip.

"Like," Kate sat down, much to John's chagrin, "He would sit around talking forever. And when he did work--it was all at once and full of mistakes."

Sherri started furiously pumping, up and down and again, holding the ring in her other hand and pulling it close to her. John closed his eyes and breathed deeply. "Well," he managed, "I did say he stayed longer than he should've."

Kate leaned forward, "Oh, you didn't deal much with him directly, right?"

"No," John looked at her while ignoring his wife's hand tugging on his sensitive organ, "Nothing beyond pleasantries."

Kate idly played with a stress ball in her hands, tossing it in the air and catching it. She flexed her arm, squeezing it. At that moment, John felt an orgasm starting to build in his nethers. A sensation spread from just under the surface of the front of his pelvis, tingling with electricity that spread through his thighs and up his abdomen. The light flashed yellow, and Sherri stopped. She held her closed fist right at the top of the long, swollen dick that twitched against her palm.

Kate nodded, "Well, he was a real nice guy, I guess, but when you ask him a real question he just stopped working. You just couldn't rely on him to finish something."

Sherri squeezed her grip, tightly pressing her husband's slick glans in her hand. She slowly, agonizingly rotated her hand, sliding it back and forth, grinding it on his sensitive tip. The light flashed between green and yellow, barely able to keep up with John's white-knuckle edging.

"Yeah," John looked away from Kate, unable to meet her eye contact, "I can imagine that would be frustrating."

Kate opened her mouth to speak, but John stopped her, "Kate, I know there's not much to do on the trip, but I have some others waiting for my response to their emails. I'm sorry I can't talk with you more."

Kate stood, apologetically, "Oh, sorry, I get it. I'll be back another time--" the stress ball fell from her hand and rolled to John's feet.

John stooped down, clenching his fist tight around the squishing plastic until his hand shook. Sherri changed her assault: She grabbed him at his base and slid her hand up to the top, letting her gliding grip slide off at the pinnacle. Then, her other hand, did the same. Together, her hands cyclically stroked John upwards again and again, gently, slowly, steadily, never once letting the light switch off from yellow for more than a blink.

"Here," John tossed the stress ball.

Kate thanked him and left, confused at the ball's deformed shape in her hands. John immediately texted his wife.

John: Having fun?

Sherri: Way too much! Ready for the big one?

John scowled, then smiled, remembering his wife's comment from last month. He mindfully glowered, instead. He exhaled, "I do not," he said to himself.

Sherri fervently pumped him, faster and faster, spreading the crackling jolts of pleasure through his body. John's eyes widened. What was she doing? He was getting close.

John: Stop.

Sherri took him to the last moment possible. Just as the light on the ring flashed red and beeped its alarm, she halted. She removed her hands, clasping them together in front of her sweetly, and watched with her head tilted. She saw John's dick flopping, twitching, writhing uselessly. The huge thing, shiny and deep red, wagged like a tail in discomfort. It oozed from the top a trickle of fluid that dripped down all the way to the balls. John grit his teeth, running his twitching fingers through his hair and leaning back.

John: This thing tells you when I'm close, doesn't it?

Sherri smiled to herself, but did not answer.

Starting on Day 4, Sherri felt it was time to begin getting serious. John was wasting time, alone in his office, watching a universe of endless stars pass by. All the while, a constant hormonal nagging was at his mind.

Sherri: How's my big man doing?

John: Fine, other than missing you.

Sherri sighed to herself, "Aw," and briefly felt bad about turning up the heat on this bet.

Sherri: I'm not so far away

John received an image of his wife, along with a text warning to open it when he was alone. He sighed, knowing full-well that he already fulfilled that condition. He wanted to resist, he was normally more comfortable setting down such a silly bait. But, Sherri was succeeding at wearing him down. It had only been three full days, why was he already so pent-up?

John opened the image. The first thing that caught his eye was Sherri's face. She was laid down on their bed, her face the closest thing to the camera. Her bright green eyes, even in a still photo, seemed to dance with life. Her short brown hair was messy but pretty, like her. And her damn smirk, that cute knowing look like she would refuse to share a secret. These are what excited his heart.

But, his gaze continued down. He scanned across her chest, pushed out from her arched back. A pose obviously uncomfortable. Such an observation usually helped take John out of porn, but in this case he just couldn't shake his primal urges. He wanted to grab her and--

John breathed deeply. He knew his wife was watching his dick for a reaction, and he could feel his stiffness giving her the reward for her teasing. Still, STILL he couldn't help but open his eyes and look at her picture. Then, the phone buzzed.

Sherri: Do you like them?

John held the phone in his hands, struggling to find words of reply that didn't concede any ground. He wouldn't show her any weakness. He didn't want to encourage her.

Sherri: Don't answer, I know.

He saved the image, but before he set the phone down, his wife surprised him with the next assault. John felt a wetness on the underside of the tip of his dick. The slick sensation moved and wriggled across this most sensitive target, heightened in feeling from the picture. John clenched his fists.

Sherri held her husband's precious thing against her face. She pressed a sloppy wet kiss against it, smooching her lips against the sensitive frenulum at its tip. She breathed a hot hiss against it, then flicked her tongue across it. She kissed it in a flurry, fervently and rapidly making out with it as she felt herself getting hot.

All the while, John maintained a zen-like focus on his breathing. He ignored the feeling on him, knowing it was a frustrating trick. He shuffled his papers, checked his emails--anything to stop him from...

The light beeped green, but Sherri wasn't close to done. She dove her mouth down onto it, shoving it down her throat. She was an expert at handling her husband, after years of practice, and so his length was manageable with effort. And, with this new ability to adjust the angle to her choice with ease, it had never been easier to take him.

She took his dick to the base, ramming him down her throat with vulgar ferocity. She withdrew it and assaulted its length with a hand that blitzed along him. Each rapid motion jolted pleasure through him. She pounded his dick with her mouth and hand, watching the light on the ring like a hawk. And, the instant it switched to yellow, she stopped.

"Fuck," John panted, staring helplessly at his wife's tits on his phone.

On Day 5, Sherri had established her pattern: Every day, she would aim her husband for him when he needed to use the bathroom. He refused to ask for it, but he always kept to a rigorous schedule for those things, so she would just verify with him via text. Every day, she would toy with him. She would send a new naked photo, and knew he would look at it while she teased him. She'd use her hands, but if it worked her up she'd sometimes succumb and use her mouth. She loved feeling her big guy in her mouth. The smoothness and hardness against her tongue was unreal. Then, every night would end with her cleaning him in the shower.

This would be their routine. Every day would be a constant sexual torture. John's phone buzzed as he tried to plan his way to survive it.

Sherri: Think you can make it?

John huffed, scoffing to his phone and answering immediately.

John: Easy.

On Day 6, Sherri began a new daily ritual. She was bored at her desk, and glanced over at her husband's dick. It had, with no input from her, gotten hard. She arched an eyebrow, and pulled the device closer to her.

Sherri: Thinking of me?

John: It just happens.

Sherri: Even at your age?

John: Shut up, we're not old.

Sherri: It looks pent-up. Let me help relax you.

Sherri reached up and held his balls in her hands. With a light hand, she rubbed her thumbs over the round things inside their bag. She cupped her fingers under them, nesting them into her soft hands. Slowly, she massaged comforting circles into their tops. She very weakly tugged on the skin, stretching his baby-makers.

For a while she played with them. She rolled them over the back of her hand, letting them fall off and sag down as she lifted her hand up. She held both in one hand, flanking the twins with her fingers and palm, and traced her fingertip of her other hand over the seam between them.

She watched John's prick struggle. It twitched and dripped clear juice, and its color flushed with barely-restrained need. She idly massaged her husband's scrotum while she stared at his cock. It moved with his breathing. It was so primal, so intimate: It had no way to hide its raw desire for release.

She smiled as she fantasized about all that she'd put it through this month. This ball massage would join her daily routine.

On Day 7, Sherri would celebrate the end of their first week. After his false bravado the day before, she felt he needed to be reminded who was in-control this month.

Sherri sent her picture, a close up of her bare pussy, spread for the camera. And, she let John know with complete certainty that she was done fucking around. John awoke that morning from a wet dream, cut short by his wife moving his cock on the device. He looked at his phone as it buzzed.

Sherri: Let's start today right. I really need to cum!

John's brow furrowed. Surely she couldn't mean to use him? But, as he opened the photo, he felt his wife lubricating his cock. "No," his heart was pounding in his chest, and each pressured palpitation sent a pulsing throb through his dick.

Sherri: I'm about to put it in.

John: Bring it on.

John braced himself against his desk, letting his head fall. He felt his wife mount him and his head felt fuzzy. His eyes closed, and he thought of all the ways he'd punish her for doing this to him.

Sherri had left the ring on the ground, standing the dick upright. She knelt over it and pressed the tip against her front entrance. She wiggled it back and forth across her lips, then sat down, sliding it into her. "Aaah, yeah," she smiled with a scornful snarl at the bridge of her nose, "He's gonna hate this."

She felt him fill her, already so horny she could fit him, and realized how much she'd neglected herself. She deserved a treat like this. She rose and fell on it, starting to bounce. Inside her, it flexed against her, straining from pleasure. John opened his mouth and rolled his head back to stare up at the fluorescent light above him.

His wife picked up the pace. She moved earnestly on him, adjusting her position for leverage. She slammed herself down with force, grunting, slapping herself onto the ground. She went faster and shallower as she picked up her phone.

Sherri: Remember you can't cum, k?

John read her message, unprepared for what followed it: His wife sent a photo of herself on his cock. It was as she had risen up, one hand on her clit, smiling at the camera. The moment he'd set his eyes on her, she plunged down onto his cock and stopped bouncing.

Instead, she grinded back and forth with him immersed into her. In any other context this would've given him reprieve, but he was at that annoying green-light-flashing instant when he was lusting for pleasure. He felt her walls clenching and squeezing him.

John: Keep this up and you'll have a hell of a December.

Sherri grabbed the ring of the device and rolled onto her side. She reached between her legs and manually withdrew the dick. Slowly, deeply, she masturbated with John's dick. She flicked her wrist, closed her eyes, and felt her orgasm start to build. She flicked her fingers faster across her sensitive nub. Just as one huge wave of pleasure shivered through her body, the device beeped at her with the yellow warning.

John felt his dick slide out on the next upstroke. Instead of feeling himself enter her on the next downstroke, he felt his dick grind against her vulva, splitting its lips to the sides, stimulating him but avoiding orgasm. She held his dick there between her thighs, annoyed that she was so close. She slowly slid the dick on her vulva, letting it grind its full length along her. She monitored the blinking light to ensure it didn't change red.

Before, the light would hit yellow and then return to green, bouncing between the states. But this time it never left yellow. His orgasm was building, but not imminent. She slid him back and forth, so, so close to her own orgasm. Then, the light changed red. Both of them were gasping and Sherri set her husband's cock down.

John: You know you need it. Go ahead.

Sherri: Oh honey you aren't negotiating

The light returned to green, and Sherri returned to her stimulation. She focused on her clit, aiming her husband's rod at it as she slid it along her. Faster, she flicked his slick stick against her bean until. Finally.

She came. He felt it. He felt her release, the squirming muscles contracting on his dick's sensitive head. John pounded a fist firmly, not hard, against his desk. He exhaled a long, steady stream like a locomotive's whistle. His forehead vein bulged. He sat down.

Sherri: Thnx cutie, I needed that

On Day 9, Sherri spent the day bored. To pass the time, she would spend a few seconds stroking John's dick with her hands. She would get him hard, pump him up, then stop after a few seconds. Over the day's many hours, John spent only a half hour at a time able to focus before his wife distracted him.

On Day 10, John was confused. The whole day, other than the usual bathing, bathroom break, and ball massage--Sherri had left him alone. He got ahead on his work and even found himself... bored.

He laid to bed, and heard a sound through the walls. He groaned, realizing what it was. Two workers were breaking cohabitating procedures. He could hear them, fucking in the next room over. Despite himself, he got an erection. Sherri noticed this, as she was winding down for bed.

Sherri: Want some attention?

"Damn it," John put his hands on his head, knowing this was the hardest night he'd suffer yet.

Sherri tapped a finger on her lips, selecting the best torture instrument for his punishment. As she did so, John listened to the sex noises across the wall. He could even tell the voices: Kate and Tristan. The two were known to be like rabbits, but tolerated for their consistent work quality.

John stared at today's nude from his wife. It was a straightforward closeup of her bare chest, her breasts propped up by a crossed arm.

Sherri: It's been a while since I've used my tits to fuck you. Stare at this while I do.

John grinded his teeth while he drank in her body. He felt his wife's soft flesh wrap around his circumference. "Harder!" he heard Kate yelling.

Sherri moved up, squeezing her pillowy mounds against him in a hot embrace. She slid up to his tip, then pressed back down. "You like that?" Tristan asked, presumably rhetorically.

"Yes!" Kate answered anyway, as Sherri moved her tits against John's cock faster.

The ring alerted her of a green signal. She slowed down; she didn't want to torture him so severely this time. She couldn't have known how badly her husband was torturing himself, listening to his peers having fun. "I'm cumming!" Kate said.

John signed. Sherri plunged her tits down, then flicked her tongue across the top of his dick. John groaned. "Oh my God, Tristan, I'm too sensitive!" he heard from the other room, sex sounds continuing.

Sherri rolled her breasts over John's cock, raising one up and lowering the other, then alternating. She wiggled her chest, sliding and pressing and squeezing. Then, she focused on fucking his brains out. With firm hands she clamped her breasts down to sandwich John's huge dick.

John tried to catch his breath. Sherri got off his dick the instant she saw a yellow warning. All the while, he heard the sounds of fucking throughout the night. "Make me cum again," the sound clenched his fists for him.

On Day 11, Sherri sucked John's balls while she watched a movie. She made sure it wasn't too long, only 2 hours, that way her husband could get nice and sore. She lightly suckled his nuts, rolling them over her tongue, occasionally wiping the leaking precum from his tip so it didn't get onto her face.

By the end, when she withdrew with a loud slurp, his heavy bag looked so agonized.

Sherri: You look like you've got the worst case of blue balls in history

John: It was worth it to have you clean them for me.

Sherri smirked, annoyed.

On Day 12, Sherri opened a delivered package! There was a box of powdered bath salts.

Sherri: Ready for your bath?

John: What are you planning?

Sherri dumped the box into the bathtub. Immediately, it became a rolling cauldron of fizzing water. Tantalizing, ticklish gas bubbles numbered in the millions. Then, she set the ring device with her husband's protruding penis down into the bath.

John jolted in his seat. He felt his cock and balls light up with the dazzling sensation. He groaned, shifting his weight uncomfortably in his seat. It was like countless feathers were tracing their delicate tips on him. He clenched his fists and reached for his phone.

John: What is this?

Sherri had left his dick in there, her phone on the bathroom floor, while she took her shower. She masturbated there, thinking of the simultaneous torment her husband was going through.

On Day 18, after several days of taking it easy on him, Sherri wanted to push John harder.

Sherri: Today, I'm going to edge you. Hard. Let me know if you want to fail and we can call off December

John: Your ass isn't getting out of this after what you've put me through.

Sherri grinned. After the daily ball massage, John was already oozing precum like a broken pump. The volume was becoming unusually large as a result of his ordeal. Sherri lubed up her husband's dick, then stuck the device to the side of the wall. On all fours, faced away from it, she backed up to John's cock. It slid up against her ass, against the fabric of her thin leggings. She wiggled her backside and pulled out her phone.

Sherri: You sure you're ready?

John didn't reply. Instead, he made sure he would be ready. He breathed deeply at his desk, arms folded, with a glass of water in reach. He played calming music. He was done being played--he would hold his front strong.

Sherri leaned back and let her husband's cock crawl over her pants, stopping when she felt the soft but firm jewels underneath his struggling rigid rod. Despite the smooth, low-friction fabric, she still went slow to avoid burning him. Even when lubricated, things could get painful. She was like this for a few minutes, gentle and slow, expecting him to suffer in a devastating buildup.

She leaned back, slowly, firmly pressing her ass against her husband. She felt his hardness pinned against the wall, struggling against her. She slid herself up and down, softly squeezing him between her ample sides. She flexed, just a bit, pressing herself against his dick.

But, the alert for green never came. John was, while not at peace, maintaining comfort. He drank his water, and looked up at his clock. It was analog--he wanted to hear it tick away his prison sentence.

Sherri, acknowledging her partner's resilience, peeled off the skintight leggings and rolled them off her body, along with her underwear. She applied more lubrication, now that it would be skin-to-skin, and returned to position. This time, John's breath hitched. Feeling the tight pants was one thing, arousing but with some easy mental barrier that diverted the mind from the act. But now, he felt his wife directly. His hardness was unyielding, while her softness was so comforting. He slid across her, between and over her, and she was embracing him.

She sent him a picture, her head down and ass up, with his dick proudly protruding vertically like a flagpole posted onto her. He felt her wiggle her bottom back and forth, sliding her cheeks against his slick cock. His breathing became quicker, but he kept his calm.

Sherri: Do you like it when I bounce my ass on this dick?

She wiggled her hips, as if wagging a tale. Her bare bottom rubbed circles around John's cock, pressing him against the wall. Her ass swallowed his dick, rubbing its slick surface with its jiggling softness.

His wife moved, quicker, rocking herself back and forth in her doggy-style kneel. He felt his dick sliding against her soft bottom, splitting down it and then squeezed by her backstroke. As arousing as this teasing would be, it was all mental. Sensationally, he could ignore the stimulation. He kept his wits about him.

Then, Sherri placed a hand over his dick, pressing him firmly down into her crack. With her hand overtop, she formed a tunnel contacting John's dick. Now, as she moved, she pumped his cock in a continuous, squeezing grip. John's mouth fell agape. He breathed deeply, struggling. Sherri felt his frustration against her, the raging erection as hard as it's ever been. She smiled as she heard the yellow indicator beeping.

John felt his wife come off him, then start slowly, softly stroking him. His wife was keeping him perfectly on the precipice, delicately balancing him at the edge of the device's green and yellow zones. With only a single finger forming a loop with her thumb, she slid her hand with glacial pace down John's rod over the course of ten seconds.

Up, and again. Her slick, thin grip squeezed his bulging organ all the way down, then back up. Again and again, all while the light flashed rapidly between green and yellow. John hissed air at his desk. He slowly stood, with collected posture he sauntered to the door. He locked it, hoping that nobody would bother him about it.

His wife redoubled her efforts.

John felt his wife back up against him again. She slid his dick up between her legs, sliding it up against her warm, wet cunt. She sighed in relief, pressing his slick rigidity against her front folds. With her fingers, she gently rubbed her husband's cock tip around her clit.

John grit his teeth, his balls wriggling, unable to release. He felt his wife cum on him. She rocked and spasmed, twitching with no control. He needed the same.

On Day 22, John began sending people away from his office.

"I'm a bit homesick, and out of temperament. I'd prefer to work privately until we land."

His peers understood. But, his wife understood best. After all, as he was spreading word of his request to be left alone, she was lapping her tongue against the sensitive underside of his dick.

She alternated between delicate tracings of long, thin lines up and down the thing. She took her time at his dick's head. Then, she let her tongue relax and lap near its base at the balls. And, she'd switch from this to quick, short licks with the flat of her tongue. She'd make firm, aggressive swirling licks against his head and at the middle. Then, she'd alternate with thin, firm, targeting trails licked against the scrotal seam.

John's swollen balls fascinated his wife. She'd just stare at the things, trapped in their prison, angry and pulsing. They weren't even close to getting to cum, yet. The thought sent shivers down Sherri's spine.

Sherri: How are your nuts feeling? Heavy?

John: They'll be lighter soon.

On Day 25, Sherri thought it'd be fun to really take her time: Do nothing special, just relax. When John needed to use the restroom, Sherri stroked his dick just a touch, enough to delay his ability to relieve himself. Just a pat was all it'd taken for him to become uncomfortable.

When she bathed it, she let it sit for twice as long as usual. All the while, she relaxed in the tub alongside it, letting it softly brush against her thighs. She'd caress it, making sure it was completely, thoroughly clean.

For his daily massage, she let her mind wander. She gently kissed her soft lips against his shaft while her fingers rubbed like feathers against his skin. She breathed against him. She didn't allow herself to succumb to the temptation to stroke him or lick him, though she wanted to. An inch from her face, her husband throbbed and pulsed excitedly. She couldn't wait for it to give her what she deserved.

On Day 29, she massaged his balls as usual. But, unlike every time before, the ring device flashed yellow. "Oh my God," Sherri laughed, "He's gonna die of a heart attack."

Sherri: Your balls look huge. You ok?

John: You have 2 days. Make them count.

Sherri giggled, her eyebrow arching at the threat. She couldn't help herself as she typed.

Sherri: OK big boy. I'm gonna edge you until you say you're sorry for that.

Sherri took the disembodied penis and sat with it between her legs. On the couch, she prepared a movie marathon and slicked up the dick, then began pumping away at it. Slowly, slower than she'd ever moved, she jacked him off.

John was beyond any reasonable limit. The device would alert with yellow light if Sherri moved even at a gentle pace, and it would do so on a single stroke. John was panting, gasping for breath. His body was hot, flushed as if glowing red. He unbuttoned the collar of his shirt and let his chest radiate heat into his conditioned room. He set the temperature lower, drank his water--but he was reduced to a single thought.

Sherri: Wanna cum?

John: No. I want to fuck you.

Sherri's heart skipped, and she accidentally slipped her hand, sending the device to flashing red. She took her hands off, laughing to herself. Her bare feet rested against John's engorged balls. She let her toes curl, nudging them. Even this slowed the device's reduction from red to yellow. "God, you're super pent-up," she exclaimed to herself.

Sherri: I'm watching a movie. No interruptions!

She sat her phone beside her, facedown onto the table. For the next four movies, she would idly stroke her husband once, slowly, every minute or so. Whenever she remembered to attend to him. And, each time, it flashed to her a warning that her husband was close to cumming.

Eventually, she checked her messages again. The last twenty were the same word:

"Sorry"

She sent him a picture of how wet she was, and then watched in real-time as John saw the message. She could see his cock's reaction--despite no touching, the light moved from green to yellow. The thing strained against nothing.

He was so pained, suffering so much, that she couldn't help herself but push him again. Knowing how naughty it would be, she let out her tongue. Just as he softened again, her saliva dripped onto it and forced it back to hard.

And, she let her tongue run slowly up over his balls, then up his shaft in a single lick. All the while, the device beeped between red and yellow. John wheezed alone at his desk during the ten seconds it took his wife to lick him.

On Day 30, Sherri woke up with a vengeance. She was beyond breaking her husband. No, now she wanted only to prepare him for his reward. Tomorrow, he'd come home and take out all his frustrations on her body. She grinned.

Sherri: If you ask to cum, I'll let you. But then you miss out on our deal. K?

John was at his wit's end. More animal than man. On the ship's guidance system, the blinking dot indicating Earth reminded him of what he fought for. He watched it creep closer, ever closer.

John: Tomorrow, you're mine. You'll see how big of a mistake you've made.

Concluding the daily routine, Sherri stripped off her already damp panties. She had been excited to get to the torture. Her heart was racing, her fingers shaking slightly from her giddiness. She typed with fervor into her phone.

Sherri: I'm feeling kinda horny, I think i'ma cum a bunch. lmk if you need to give up.

John's dick betrayed his emotions, despite no text response. Sherri giggled to herself, kicking her feet as she lay on the ground beside her husband's trapped manhood.

Sherri: Buuuut... that'd make you a lil bitch. Try to hang in there.

She let his dick rest vertically on the ground, like a dildo. She wasn't crazy; she knew that any stimulation at all would have her husband spurting. She withdrew her secret weapon: A special condom with extra thickness and a numbing agent lining. This she rolled down from his tip to base, hopefully delaying pleasure to his body.

John felt the at-first cold, somewhat stiff coating over his dick. Then, he felt the strange sensation of a lack of sensation--not a tingle, but almost like a heaviness. He narrowed his eyes in a frustrated glower.

John: What is this?

Sherri: Can't have you cumming, can I?

His tall, thick dick stood wrapped up and numb like a plastic toy. Over it, she knelt herself, then lowered herself onto it slowly. She felt its tip split her lips. She sighed. She hadn't even realized how much she'd been working herself up this month, focusing so much on John. Especially lately, she hadn't really played with herself at all; she'd been satisfied just with teasing him and having a laugh at his expense.

Now, finally, she had some release. She leaned forward for comfort, moving her hips in a grinding motion, satisfying herself. She closed her eyes. She grinded more, harder, pressing herself against the rigid toy. Wait--dick. Wow! She smiled, getting lost in the feeling and forgetting that she wasn't alone despite being in an otherwise empty room. This reminded her of her lonesome days as a single lady, splurging on her urges and acting like a pornstar in her room. She danced on John's dick, tending less to her sensation. Instead, she wanted to put on a show, for her own satisfaction.

She bounced her hips up and down, fucking his dick, jumping her ass up and down faster and faster. She giggled, thinking of how frustrating it must be for John to barely feel anything at all, knowing his wife was using him to get herself off without a thought to him. She reached her hand down and grabbed his balls. The light flashed yellow. She didn't care--she grunted.

Her pussy clamped down, spasming, and her other hand reached down to flick her clit. Face-down, resting on her chest, she came. She caught her breath. All the while, she felt the device panicking, remaining in that yellow zone of in-between hell. John's mouth was agape, his fists clenched into tight fists. He snarled deep in his throat. His balls, he felt them wriggling and struggling, rising up in their sack and hoping, jumping, begging to empty themselves. But, they couldn't. His wife's soft hand comforted them like a mother would to her crying baby.

He let out a ragged grunt, then another. He sat at his desk with a heaving chest. On his dick he felt only the faintest pressure; barely, he could make out movement on it. But, his sensitive balls were enough to bring him to this precipice. The agony was killing him, giving him an immense aching pain in his testicles. Fortunately, his wife was at-least giving him a comforting massage to ease the pain. Unfortunately, though, this same motion kept him at the edge of orgasm. He would not cross this threshold.

When this month began, Sherri relied heavily on the device to know her husband's limits. As the month continued, she grew in her own instincts, using the device only to verify how far she could push her husband. But, it's never so simple: As the weeks dragged on, and her days became more extreme in their edging, John started to surprise her again. The device became more necessary, critical in communicating her husband's imminent explosion at increasingly little stimulation.

But now? Now, Sherri was a master. Even with only the lightest touch, she didn't need the device. She knew that within the yellow zone, there was a range. How long to keep John in this pre-orgasmic nightmare? How fast to take him out of the comfortable green zone and force him to gasp? Although, there was one remaining frontier she'd need to invade.

Sherri: Relax your fists, baby.

John scowled at his desk, obeying the command with a deep breath. He didn't like that his wife could so easily control him now. He laid his head down, his breath shaky. He wiped a single drop of sweat from his neck.

The break lasted only ten minutes. Then, she started again. But, first, John's phone buzzed. He looked to see a video, a long one, of his wife. She'd recorded the entire time she'd spent fucking him earlier.

He couldn't help himself. As he felt that faint pressure on his rod, he watched with the screen like a helpless, caged beast. He couldn't control himself. His eyes burned a gaze into the screen, guided by the jiggle of his wife's ass. With each slam, he saw her cheeks split and clap against his balls. Alongside the video, John felt his balls touch his wife's ass in real time. She was getting lucky, of course--John knew she wasn't the planning type. But, still, he was watching along as his wife synchronized to the video.

The light flashed, instantly, red. Sherri leapt off the dick instantly. John slammed a hand against his thigh, groaning. His lips hissed a shot of air, but his eyes were helplessly locked onto the screen. He wouldn't cum. But, his body didn't know this yet. For still it struggled and strained against futile effort to release. Seconds passed, wholly uneventfully save for the frozen pain in John's weeping genitals. It felt like an eternity.

John was at the mercy of a perfect master. The instant the light was yellow, Sherri jumped her pussy back onto the numb cock. She got only a few bounces on it before it flashed red again. She thanked the years she'd spent at the gym for honing her leg muscles, because otherwise she wouldn't have the constitution to dive off him again. Precum, thin and clear and in a constant downpour, slid down from underneath the condom and down the bright pink balls.

Sherri: What's the worst thing I could do to you rn??

John's body was boiling. He unbuttoned his shirt, panting. Steam radiated off him. His skin was flushing deeper, and he drank his water in desperate hope that it'd give him strength.

Sherri's lips enclosed onto John's scrotum, and she sucked his balls clean. Her husband ate well, the liquid was flavorless like water. But, she was so fucking horny, she would've tolerated some salt. John strained in his seat, his neck vein bulging. He could feel her mouth curl into a smile while her tongue pressed against him. She pulled off his balls with a hot reluctance.

Red. The device was red. For so long. How? John felt it for an eternity packed into a minute. This couldn't be real. It shouldn't be possible. What research had Sherri done? John prayed to any god that would listen. Sherri played with herself until she came again. John was in the green again by the time she'd recovered.

His shaking hand grabbed the water beside him. He finished it off, then collapsed to the floor. His legs gave way as he felt Sherri continue a third time. Her stamina was incredible--a quality he'd never hated so much before this day.

His phone flashed again, and he saw the message.

Sherri: Stay hydrated honey, you're losing lots of fluids!

Sherri's pussy swallowed his dick again. She grinded against him, flicked her clit, pumped him like a pornstar. It's all the same techniques she'd done before. She tried to focus on herself more, knowing that her husband was beyond his limits. But she couldn't help herself, so horny, thinking of her husband reduced to a mess.

No, it was more than that. She wanted to push her husband to becoming a monster. She wanted him to come home and punish her. She needed him to fuck her silly, make her sorry, pound her until she hated herself. She wanted to be broken by him. And, to reach that end, she wanted to be his villain. Not only did he need to be taken to an extremely intense place of arousal, but he also needed to have no ambiguity that he deserved release in any way he saw fit. In the same way that sarcasm needs to be extreme enough so as to be obvious. She wanted to communicate, without words, that she wanted to be used and abused. She needed it to be extreme.

She grunted, panted, her tongue out like a bitch in heat. She flicked John's cock against her clit, splitting her folds and flying its flagstaff around her engorged lips without remorse. She came on his dick for the last time that month. As she did so, the device was entirely flashing between yellow and red. The veins were expanded to full pressure. It shouldn't be possible, John thought to himself as he lay on the floor. A single tear rolled down his face.

Sherri: Congrats! You lived!

An hour later, John got up. Finally, finally his dick had gone soft. Still, despite this, his swollen balls ached and weighed him down. He felt them resting on the floor still, yet it didn't matter. It was like all his body's blood had settled into them. They pounded like a migraine. His phone buzzed. Every brain cell commanded him to ignore it, knowing that no good could come from it. But his brain wasn't in-control. Sherri's was. He was a dog, obeying his primal urges and seeking any scraps his wife threw him.

On his phone, a clear picture of his wife's pussy. It was soaked, a complete mess, as if it'd been hit with a water balloon. She'd used him to reach heights he couldn't fathom. Instantly, he was hard again. Sherri was startled, back home, having toweled off. Despite being another room over, she watched John's dick grow erect. She laughed when the device beeped an alert for yellow. She knew that just seeing what he'd done to her (or what she'd done to herself using him) could take him to a roiling orgasm welling in his balls. But, she doubted that he could push himself over the edge with thoughts alone.

He also read the text accompanying her picture.

Sherri: Cum already, so you can't get this pussy tomorrow.

John, his eyes red and blurry, his hands weak, and his back on the floor, found strength to respond.

John: When I walk in the door, I want you on your knees.

He hit send, and the thought alone hurt him. His balls ached, the device flashed red for a millisecond. Sherri, though, licked her lips. She wouldn't want it any other way.

And, that day came.

On the day of John's return, Sherri was beside herself with joy. She almost--but barely restrained herself--got herself off in anticipation. She was so ready for this. Or, at least, she thought she was.

She was wrong, of course.

The door opened, then shut. John stepped into their home. On his strong shoulders he carried his luggage. Sherri knelt in front of him, nude, her hands clasped in front of her chest. She beamed up at him, her heart fluttering, her eyes wandering to his groin. Her voice quivered as she said, "Welcome home, honey. How was your trip?"

In her hands, she held forward the device. John's cock protruded from it, fully erect. She offered it like a trophy to her husband.

John looked at her intensely. Then, he walked past her. She didn't move. From behind her, she heard her husband set his luggage into their room. He took care of setting his items aside, preparing them to be laundered and cleaned as necessary. So very in-control.

Sherri had a moment of doubt. Had she made some miscalculation?

Then, she felt a strong hand grasp behind her neck. Her face was shoved to the floor, and she gasped, "Oh, fuck, please."

She saw in front of her as the dick withdrew from the device. She giggled, knowing exactly where it was going next.

"Tell me where you want to get fucked first," John ordered.

Sherri shrieked excitedly, "My pussy, please!"

John's grip tightened on her neck. "Good girl," and Sherri melted in his hands as he continued, "Now, beg me to fuck your ass instead."

She felt her wetness drip just a bit down her leg. Her voice caught in her throat, "No, baby, please. I want it."

Both John's hands held her throat firmly, but not squeezing into discomfort. Controlled, like always. She understood his silent command. Sherri bit her lip, "Fuck, please, please fuck my ass."

She felt his cock rub under her, through her pussy lips, sliding up and out from between her shaking, slick thighs. John snarled into her ear, "Make me believe it."

Sherri wiggled her hips, leaning back, greedily grinding against her man. "Pleeeeeeaase fuck my ass baby. I don't deserve this dick anywhere but back there."

John slid into her pussy as a reward. Sherri gasped. Finally! Yes! This was it, much better than her solo act. Using his dick was fun, but it lacked the passion of a driving force. Finally, she had John here with his insurmountable need for her to give an experience she couldn't make for herself. John grabbed her neck in one hand and her hip with another, then clapped against her with a frequency that sent Sherri squealing.

He came in an instant. He didn't stop.

The sensation shot into Sherri like a shotgun blast. She felt its force, a sudden, massive volume that flooded into her. It was hot like a gulp of soup settling into her stomach, warming her up from within. Still unfathomably rigid, the dick kept pounding even as a steady stream of white liquid fell out from between its thrusts. Sherri let out a groan, which sounded choppy as it was interrupted with rapid punches up from below her diaphragm.

A hand grabbed her hips, lifting her higher, raising her to standing. While together, just behind her, John wrapped his arm around her neck, clasping his hand against his own shoulder. His other hand reached down, over her abdomen, to grab her hip from across her body. She was locked in this embrace, even though she wouldn't have wanted to move, all while John's cock kept hammering away into her.

She wondered how long it'd take for him to cum again. She felt his previous release still seeping out of her, neither caring, while it covered their thighs. John was too excited, his mind empty of anything but satisfaction. Sherri, conversely, retained her presence of mind--she just wanted to feel possessed.

"Fuck, John," Sherri felt a sensation of her own starting to spread in her pussy, "I'm getting close."

With one hand on John's tricep and another on her clit, she felt a pleasant heat starting, growing. But, then, John let go of her hip and arrested her hand. Unable to stimulate herself, all she had to go from was the thrusting--her buildup slowed. Then, as it started to crest anyway, John came again and withdrew. The new load spilled out of her as John pushed her back to the ground.

Her lip quivered, "Baby, I'm close," but John ignored her.

She felt him against her leg, still throbbing. He rolled her onto her back, so she'd face up at him as he knelt over her. His strong thighs were above her, spread wider than her shoulders so he could lean his dick to her face. She watched it twitch, covered in his pent-up frustration. She offered to him, "If you cum in my mouth, would you let me cum?"

John shoved it into her face, violently. She felt his balls, still heavy, slapping into her chin. She reached up, grabbing his muscular legs in her arms. She held him loosely as he thrusted, wanting to feel him but not wanting to impede his efforts--as if she could restrain him now that he was freed.

She barely sucked, couldn't even find the clearance to move her tongue. John was using her so vigorously that she couldn't partake in the act. The back of her head was pinned against the floor, and all she could do was keep her teeth out of the way as the thick dick pumped like a piston across her lips. At last, after a minute straight, just as her jaw grew sore, John paused. He buried himself fully, and Sherri felt his balls start to do that squirming, gentle pull up into his body that harbinged an imminent explosion. She prepared herself, with her husband's dick head in her throat, to start swallowing.

But, then, John pulled out. Her lips made a slurping sound, and just as she gasped for breath her face was painted white. Several strands--more than should be biologically possible, thickly spurted ribbons draped over the right side of her face. She'd reactively turned away after the first startled her. John stood over her, saying coldly, "I didn't cum in your mouth. You're not coming."

As she whined playfully--John gently but firmly led her by the elbow across the room. He knelt her in front of a full-length mirror, and pressed her face against it. She felt the cold, icy surface smear with her saliva and John's cum. She knelt there, facing herself in the mirror, staring into her own smeared visage. She couldn't see how bad she looked, how messy her hair was or how shiny her chin.

"Lick it up," John commanded her. He pressed her forward.

Then, she gasped: John's cock pressed against her pussy from behind. "Wait," Sherri said, rushing to brace herself.

Then, John entered her again. And, like before, it was uncourteous. He shoved his way into her aggressively, ignoring her pleasure. Each of his hands grasped her wrists, pulling her arms back and to her sides, forcing her back to arch upward. His thrusts used her arms as handlebars, and each slap of his pelvis drove a rippling bounce through Sherri's body that shook her head. She let her tongue hang out, pressing its flat against the cold mirror's surface, lapping up her husband's cum.

"Good girl," John moaned through gritted teeth.

She felt him unload her full of seed again. He kept his throbbing cock buried into her. She felt its pulsing, each twitch a pump of voluminous liquid. But still she didn't cum, not quite put over the edge with the only stimulation being penetrative.

John withdrew from her, and as he did so he grabbed her. He pulled her to the ground on her back, and then let go of her wrists. She panted, desperate for release, as John gripped her ankles now and lifted her legs into the air. Sherri was positioned upside-down, with her knees by her head, with her ass proud and high above her.

John knelt beside her, his dick just a foot from Sherri's face, distracting her. "Look," John directed her attention to her groin.

John held Sherri by the nape of her neck, turning her to face forward, making her watch as his cum leaked slowly out from between her legs. Despite the position being one that retained most of the fluid, that which had already started out was now creeping down her front. It had mixed with her own, less viscous stuff. But, he wasn't done.

John placed over Sherri's pussy the same device of bondage that he'd been in the last month. The ring-like teleporter could be secured even from this position, and Sherri soon found a new humiliation: John held in his hand the device's counterpart, only inches away from Sherri's face.

"If you want to cum so badly, you'll need to use your mouth." John set the device on the floor, a few feet away. "Go ahead, crawl over and make yourself cum. Don't touch it with your hands."

Sherri stared for a moment at her husband, despite his cold voice his eyes were soft. He was as deeply, maddeningly infatuated by this situation as she was. She grinned like a fool, knowing that the next act she'd perform would please both people in this room massively. She enthusiastically flipped onto her hands and knees, then rapidly rushed forward like a dog.

She couldn't get her tongue out fast enough, shoving it into her own detached pussy, protruding from the teleporter. The sensation was divine. While conceptually similar to masturbation, her tongue could manipulate her folds and tickle her clit in a way that her fingers couldn't. It was so delicate yet firm, capable of pressing and swirling like fingers, yet with that minutely bumpy texture and perpetual slickness and heat that hands couldn't offer.

And the taste. What should've been off-putting was now heightening the experience of humiliation. She ate well--she knew she tasted fine. But, more than that, she could lap out her husband's cum. That stuff she'd seen spilling out of her, she was now coating onto her palate as she took herself toward climax.

John wasn't done, either. Sherri felt, behind her, that her husband's hardness was pressed against her anus. She waited for his move.

Just as he advanced, slowly, agonizingly slowly entering into her with a delicate care for her comfort, Sherri took the moment to synchronize pleasure by dragging her flat tongue slowly across her pussy. She made sure to press into her labia lips, and gave a whip-like lick at her clit as she passed it by.

Knowing that Sherri was a bit less practiced in this area, and as he'd calmed down a bit, John was now holding back more conscientiously. His dick moved, not slowly but not quickly, into her to half his length. He took his time with a glacial pace, retreating from her as if savoring the sensation. Her ass gripped him tightly at a single muscular ring, unlike the all-over steady pressure of her pussy or mouth. He'd always enjoyed the feeling.

He felt her ass squeeze him: She was reacting positively. He would only have cared slightly if she wasn't--after all, this was her earned punishment. But, regardless, Sherri obeyed him. She lapped up her pussy like someone complimenting a chef. Her eyes closed, and she felt John thrusting faster. She licked harder, flicking her tongue over her clit. Her mind was consumed. She cared only about cumming.

Her hands held the ring aloft, shoving her pussy into her face. She ran her tongue over her clit, focused on its pleasure center. She ignored all other sensation. John, likewise pounded her. The room was full of her clapping ass against his powerful legs. He grabbed her tits that hung below, squeezing her. She gasped. Together, they hissed air.

"Wait," John ordered, himself ready to erupt. He slammed into her, and as he did so he retained the presence of mind to prioritize his wife. He wanted her to finish with something special.

He pulled her head up by a fistful of her hair, clearing her mouth from her pussy. He reached forward with his other hand and pinched her clit between his thumb and forefinger. Sherri yelped, hitting climax. But, still seeking greater thrills, she shoved her tongue as deeply as she could into her tunnel. She wriggled it, watching with crossed-eyes as her husband rolled his finger and thumb around, gently massaging her engorged bud as it released all the incredible sensations of release. Her ass was full instantly, pushed with liquid to bursting.

Together, the two fell to the ground. John held his wife in his arms, spooning her. His dick was still buried in her ass. Sherri held her husband's hand. Every muscle in each of their bodies relaxed. They were spent.

She couldn't wait to see what else was in store for her this month.