Fucking machine!

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Babes

CHAPTER 1

My wife loved fucking. Which sounds great, but can be a bit demanding on the husband. She just wanted to be well fucked every day. Now I don’t mean to complain: I did my best but she wanted more.

It wasn’t just about orgasms, though she had plenty of those. With her fingers and a vibrator she had several every day. I didn’t count and hardly noticed: it was just so routine. She would finger herself while I was cleaning my teeth, just to start the day right. Home from work and straight to the vibrator for a couple of comings. She accepted my licking and fingering in the loving spirit in which it was given, but she was better at it herself.

However, what she wanted from me was fucking. Never mind the orgasms: she liked to be pounded by a cock. We reckoned three men one after another would be what she really craved.

Obviously I did my best with a dildo, but it didn’t give the thrusting she wanted. So we bought a strap-on, which worked fairly well. I could carry on after I had come till she was more or less satisfied.

That continued until I got a slipped disc. That meant no thrusting for quite a while and cautious movements even as it got better.

That is when I bought the fucking machine. As in (nice) fucking-machine. And as in (not so nice) that fucking machine!

It was advertised as having a very quiet motor, which proved to be true. However the rest of the mechanical parts combined to make quite a clatter. She said it felt good and obviously had the stamina, but the noise was off-putting. She tried wearing headphones with music, but it wasn’t enough. We also thought the neighbours would hear it and might complain or (worse) guess what was making the regular clatter.

“It’s a typical male idea of what will please a woman!” she said. “All mechanical with levers and joints. Now I understand why the videos had a music soundtrack, and the women were of course acting.”

I was slightly offended as I work with levers and moving parts for a company making equipment for industry and the military including aircraft landing gear and so on. I said it was just that the designer was not that good, trying to defend men and mechanical engineering in general.

However, looking it over I was appalled at how much lack of thought had gone into keeping it quiet.

A few days later I was at work when my boss came round, and saw what I was doing.

“That looks like a foreigner,” he remarked and looked at his watch. “Keep it to your lunch break, and only gash bits or what you supply, OK?”

A ‘foreigner’ is work you do in the company workshop but not part of your job. Everybody does it to fix their cars or broken items at home. We have to do it in our lunch break or in the hour after we cease to be paid but before the workshop is closed by security. ‘Gash’ means broken items, offcuts, and bits that have failed inspection. We have a section of stores called ‘the glory hole’ where this sort of stuff is kept. It is often useful for test machining, or sometimes fixing things about the place.

Back at home I did more in the spare bedroom with the machine. “My new hobby” as she rightly said. Gradually I eliminated the noises, but as I did I began to see other ways in which the design was poor. I couldn’t help myself, even spending money on getting new materials for parts. Eventually the motor was almost the only original part.

CHAPTER 2

Finally, it was ready almanbahis giriş and my back was a lot better. I was ready to start fucking my wife myself, and to keep her satisfied with my machine. It made a slight purr as it thrusted in a variety of ways, and I admired the combination of materials which made all moving parts work so smoothly together.

“You’re too late,” she said, when I broke the news, which rather wiped the smile off my face.

“I’ve made other arrangements. I’ve been seeing someone, so I shall be moving out.”

“You can’t do this!” I protested. “We’re husband and wife!”

“As I recall,” she answered, “you were the one who said we don’t need a certificate to prove we love each other, and something about outdated social conventions. I thought you were too cheap and too scared of commitment.”

I then said exactly the wrong thing. It could not have been more perfectly done.

“Couldn’t you at least try it out?”

She blew her top.

“Bloody typical! You have been thinking more of that fucking machine {as in fucking machine!} than you do of me! I hope you two will be very happy together!” She paused a moment.

“In fact, you can fucking well fuck yourselves because I am going to fuck off!”

Fortunately there was actually a bed in the spare bedroom, so I spent the night there with the machine while she locked herself in our bedroom. I heard the vibrator going and some orgasmic noises, but I don’t know how genuine they were.

At breakfast I found out more.

“So who is your new love? Do I know him?” I meekly enquired.

“It’s not a love, it’s a lover: someone to fuck me, nothing else expected. And it’s not a him, it’s a them. I took your advice and will be staying with three young men.”

“I went out on the pull to that pub opposite the university. Thought I might find some young meat. There were three lads sitting together taking about computers, so I guessed they probably didn’t have girlfriends. I tried them all out that night and a few times since while you were with your new love interest. They were undergraduates sharing a house who are now postgraduates. There were originally four so there is one space free. It’s quite a big house, so I can bring my stuff, and there are two bathrooms so one will be mine.”

I tried and failed to get her to reconsider. Eventually I helped her transfer her stuff. I briefly saw her new sexual partners, who looked rather afraid of me. We had separate bank accounts, and the rent came out of mine so there was really very little to do formally.

It was a struggle to keep things together at work, but I found that concentrating helped. I worked part of my lunchbreak so as not to sit around, and did half an hour of unpaid overtime to delay going home.

I continued to sleep in the spare bedroom, as our bedroom would remind me too much. Once a week I had a miserable wank. Looking at porn didn’t help much. So I went back to my hobby.

From the manufacturer I ordered the smallest dildo and a male sleeve. Obviously I needed a test subject, and that was going to be me.

When they came I realised I did not have lubricant so ordered a large bottle from another website which seemed to be cheaper. Obviously I tried the dildo by hand first and found a suitable cleaning procedure, and the best direction.

Then I tried the machine on the slowest speed and shortest stroke. It took me two almanbahis güvenilirmi weeks to make the necessary modifications so that it would deliver to different heights and angles. The manufacturer had not had the best ideas, but now I could be fucked lying on my back on the bed, standing bent over, kneeling on the bed, kneeling on the floor.

As well as my technical interest, I really began to appreciate the pleasant feelings inside my bum. I was cheerful at work thinking of what I would do in the evening. I used the male sleeve less than I expected, but it was nice for a change.

I changed the fittings, so that I did not need the manufacturer’s special dildos, but could take ones for a standard strapon harness. Soon I was able to take the one with which I had fucked my wife.

I tried straight ones and curved ones; floppy ones and stiffer rubber ones. I adjusted the mechanism so that it could give not only a straight thrust, but also a rocking one, like from a pelvis. Vibrations and rotations added to the variety.

There was just so much to try and enjoy. I was using loads of lubricant, and discharging plenty of my own. My prostate was getting a great daily massage and appeared to respond. I would often have two fucks and come both times. When I fancied it, I would just do it gently for quite a long time. I realised the machine was probably giving me the amount of fucking that my wife had wanted. A shame it was too late.

CHAPTER 3

For some subconscious reason I decided to go to the pub near the university. There was the woman I could not help thinking of as my wife, along with her three studs. I tried to look friendly and bought them a round. I asked them ‘man to man’ how they found her. She added “with an older woman?”

They said she was fantastic. One said she must be the sexiest woman on the planet. I nodded sadly in agreement. I asked her was she satisfied and she said yes, these boys were young and capable, so she was getting plenty.

I went home and resigned myself to the situation. She was getting all the sex she wanted, I was getting all the sex I could take, but I still missed her.

Since she left she had never answered my phone calls or text messages, so I was surprised to get a text next day saying could she come round after work for a coffee. Of course I agreed, so hurriedly began clearing up as best I could.

We told each other they were looking well, and work was OK.

Then I said the right thing for once.

“I love you and I want you back. If you need more sex, you can have it with the boys, but I just want to hold you at night and love you.”

She flung herself on me. At some point her mouth came off mine to say “I love you” but that was all that was said. Somehow we got to the bedroom and some of our clothes came off, and I was pumping hard inside her with all the love and lust I had.

“Why didn’t you do that when I said I was leaving?” she asked. “Talking about being married and that bloody machine just set me off. And you were too willing to let me go. The boys were afraid you would hit them, and I was hoping you would.”

“But surely they gave you the sex you needed?”

“Yes, but that was all. To be fair, they fucked me all they could which was about the right amount I had always needed, but there was nothing else. They were so boring with their shoot ’em up games and talking about computing.”

She almanbahis yeni giriş paused.

“At the pub I decided I’d rather have you and no sex than all that sex and not you.”

Once again I managed to say the right thing.

“Will you marry me? Really get the certificate with the social convention?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” as she smothered me with kisses.

Next day we phoned our employers to ask for a day off and she moved back in.

CHAPTER 4

Things were different. She said she did not want to know about “that machine” so the spare bedroom door was kept firmly closed. I usually managed to fuck her twice most days, and she gave herself one orgasm in the morning with her fingers and one in the evening with her vibrator. I tried to encourage her to do more, but she refused.

After a couple of weeks her curiosity finally got her to ask to see it.

“What the hell have you done?”

“Sorry,” I said, “I just had a lot of free time so I thought I’d make it quieter. Would you like to hear?”

“I suppose so.”

So I switched it on, and started to vary the controls.

“My God!” she said. “It not only sounds better, it looks better, not like that Victorian contraption you bought. This looks like some serious sexy machine. Can I try it?”

There then followed the most beautiful sight I had seen in my life. My darling wife being pleasured and giving herself up to orgasm. I was not distracted by my own efforts. I could just enjoy the purity of her pleasure and excitement. I knew this was something I wanted to see often.

I kissed her and said “I love you. Carry on if you like.”

So she did to two more orgasms. It was wonderful!

Over the next few days I demonstrated the different positions and modes, and she explored them. I was so pleased and proud to see her excitement.

One day she was looking at the dildos and frowning.

“Did you test this out on anyone?”

“Yes,” I said, “Me. I needed to know how it felt inside and there wasn’t anyone else.”

I wasn’t sure what her expression meant, and was worried. Then very quietly she said “Show me.”

I excused myself to the toilet to prepare and came back lubed inside. I set the machine’s height and angle and stood bent over the bed, so the lubed dildo was just touching my hole. I then set the remote to my favourite mode and fucked myself till I came, gasping and thrusting as I do. The dildo withdrew.

She sat down on the bed.

“That was amazing!” she said. “I’ve never seen anything like it, and it was rather nice. I do love you!” Then she sucked my cock clean.

“Do you fantasise about being a girl then? Do you dress up for it?”

“No, I don’t fantasise. I just needed to get the angle and depth right, but found I liked it. I’ve never dressed up, but I suppose I could if you wanted.”

We got married soon after, to our parents’ delight. Her three computer boys were invited. We talked about giving them a final fling on the eve of the wedding day, but decided against it.

We now really are a married couple, but so far as sex goes there are three of us. I fuck my wife once or twice a week (usually twice) but there is an awful lot more fucking that goes on. Courtesy of my marvellous machine she definitely gets all the fucking she needs, which is a lot. I also get fucked more than I would have thought possible, and plenty of orgasms. We both adore seeing the other being pleasured in this way. However, there is more. She came across the harness I formerly used on her with a dildo, and now uses it on me sometimes, when I am dressed in a nightdress or bra and stockings. She says she enjoys fucking both receiving and giving. It’s all good.

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