Naughty Husband

 “You know if we keep doing this, we're going to be late.”

 

“I'm not seeing the problem.”

 

“Come on, you know this event is important to me.”

 

“Ugh. I wish I tied you up before we started.”

 

“Haha. Much as I would have enjoyed that, there’s a reason I didn’t let you. Now hurry up. You have one minute to finish.”

 

I picked up the pace as I thrust into my wife. Within another forty seconds, her body tightened, and she let out long moan as she came. I wasn’t quite there yet myself but I was very close. I tried to beat the deadline, but my watchful wife was true to her word. Even as she shivered through the last part of her orgasm she kept an eye on the clock. As soon as that minute hand ticked over to 12, she pushed me away, leaving my cock wet and bobbing in the air.

 

“Hey! I wasn’t done!”

 

She let out a little “hmph” as she grabbed some tissues and cleaned herself off down there. “Serves you right, thinking you can use sex to weasel out of your commitments. You’ve known about this expo for a month. If you really didn’t want to go, you had plenty of time to accidentally arrange being out of town for, like, I don't know, a fishing trip or whatever.”

 

“I hate fishing,” I said with a laugh. Reluctantly, I used a paper towel to dry my cock and pulled up my pants, trying to will my organ to cool off. My wife slid her panties back on, straightened out her long evening dress, then swept a hand through her gorgeous red hair.

 

She fixed me with her bright green eyes, watching me stuff my still half-hard cock into my slacks. The moment I got zipped up, she headed for the door. “You know, I don’t really like those dumb movies you like to watch, but I still sit there and watch them with you.”

 

I grinned. “Those movies usually aren’t longer than ninety minutes. And we don’t have a bunch of pretentious douche bags sitting around with us making dumb comments that they think sound so enlightened.”

 

She rolled her eyes. “As if your custom riff track is any better. Honestly, that’s the worst part, when you think you’re being funny by cracking jokes over the movie.”

 

“Hey, you laugh.”

 

“Yeah, at how dumb you sound.” She stuck her tongue out at me as we got into her car.

 

“Yeah, well, whenever you’re not laughing, you’re usually sucking my cock so I’ll turn the movie off early.”

 

“Hey, it works doesn’t it?” She winked at me, and my cock twitched in my pants, still stubbornly refusing to wilt all the way. I couldn’t argue there.

 

“Well if we’re going that route…” I said, giving her a sly smirk.

 

She somehow fixed me with one of her infamous Looks while still keeping her eyes on the road. “Honey, I swear to God, if you do that while we’re at the gallery, I am going to punish you.”

 

“Maybe I want to be punished.”

 

She sighed and shook her head, but gave me a bemused glance. “You are just incorrigible.” She reached over and pressed her hand against my crotch. My cock eagerly pulsed back to a full erection. “I mean it. I enjoy these art expos. And I know some of the people whose art is being debuted here. I'd rather not be distracted.”

 

“Ha! It’s not like you can’t multitask when you’re turned on.”

 

She sighed again, but couldn’t hide a smile. “Give me one hour at least. Just one.”

 

“No promises.”

 

“I’m serious.”

 

“Okay, okay.”

 

***

 

We arrived at the art gallery thirty minutes later. I did my best to smile and nod and not yawn from boredom, but I was a total stranger out here. My wife was the one who had all the connections. She was the one who actually got the invite. I was just the plus one.

 

It wasn’t that I didn’t like art. I like art just fine. But I was more into the classical paintings style of art, where the artist had to actually try and make the people and landscapes look realistic. It was amazing to me how paint on canvas could be applied so deftly to make nearly photo-realistic imagery. There’s a painting at a museum of a boat on a lake at dusk, and I’m still blown away at how the artist can capture the reflection of the setting sun on the water, almost like it really is glowing.

 

This art expo was not one of those, however. This was one of those “post-modern” art galleries. A bunch of basic shapes clustered together in dumb arrangements. A mirror that has been painted solid red. Four white boxes sitting in a line, but one of them is slightly offset from the others. I swear there is even a sculpture dominating one corner of one room that is literally just a bunch of trash thrown all over the floor. There’s a sculpture that’s just a bed tilted onto its side, and the sheets are bunched up on the corner, with a teddy bear leaning against the headboard.

 

It’s really dumb looking. But the real downer is the crowd of snooty, champagne-sniffing art school douches that sit there and “hmm” and “ah” over the whole thing. They stand in front of these dumb square paintings and trash pile sculptures, stroking their chins and sipping their champagne, and make pretentious assessments of the deeper meaning of it all.

 

My wife was currently off talking to her artist friends, whose work is part of the exhibition. I don’t know which pieces were theirs, and I don’t want to know, lest it give me a worse assessment of their mental states than I already had. As long as there was plausible deniability at the specifics, I could pretend the least bad pieces were probably theirs.

 

Alright, look, I’m not begrudging anyone for, you know, doing whatever their passion is. It’s cool. Everyone has their thing, and as long as it doesn’t hurt anybody and you personally find it fun, you can make whatever dumb crap you want. I just can’t imagine how anyone else actually thinks the stuff is art, enough to finance a whole gallery at a big museum and get dozens of high-society guests.

 

But what do I know? I was an accounting major. My dumb hobby was collecting baseball cards, thinking they’d be worth something years later, instead of becoming boxes of landfill fodder. This just wasn’t my crowd.

 

I tried to converse with a few people, but they just wanted to talk about whatever obscure charity they’ve been involved in, or about whatever seasonal flavor the latest coffee shop had, or, worst of all, about what the deeper meaning of that pile of trash in the corner was. Sorry, I mean “exquisite modern sculpture” in the corner. Which I assumed was buried under the trash.

 

I really did try to last an hour, but I could only take so much. Unlike my wife, I’m only human.

 

I managed to I break away from a couple swirling their champagne in their glasses as they pontificated the meaning of a mirror painted red, and headed for a bathroom. I got into a stall and pulled down my pants. I sat down, but I wasn’t there to poop. Instead I grabbed my cock and began stroking. I went erect quickly, even though I stroked slowly. Still pent up from not having finished before we left, I was also very excited for what was about to happen.

 

It always takes exactly one minute. My excitement grew with every second, and I had to fight not to spurt too soon.

 

Sixty seconds of stroking on the dot, my wife suddenly appeared in the stall, standing in front of me. My hand instantly left my cock. She looked down at me, hands on her hips, giving me that glare that's a lot more adorable than intimidating. She tried to look upset, but she couldn’t hide the mirth in her eyes. Or the arousal.

 

“You couldn’t even last 30 more minutes?” She gave me an exasperated sigh, shaking her head. “You are fucking in for it now.”

 

I grinned up at her. “I can’t wait!” She just rolled her eyes, and then everything went black.

 

***

 

One year ago my wife and I were having some troubles in bed. I don't really want to go into the details. Let’s just say, we were disagreeing on the indulgence of certain kinks.

 

We heard from a friend whose own marriage had been getting strained. But he told me that after a visit to a certain sex shop, their issues had been largely cleared up. Our problem wasn’t really that serious, but we were very intrigued about the idea of a sex shop that apparently sold devices so good, they could fix even a failing marriage.

 

We went into the store. The shop owner, I don’t really remember her name, took one look at us, and she grinned wide. There was something strangely compelling about the woman. She was definitely hot, but there was more to it than that. Maybe something in how she carried herself, or something in her voice, but there was just an arresting quality about her presence. My wife even felt it. Looking back on it later, we both admitted to feeling a bit entranced.

 

The transaction happened quickly. I simply explained that there were certain kinks I wanted to indulge in, that my wife felt was a bit trying on her part. The woman at the counter laughed and said, “Men are just so demanding, aren’t they? Even with a nympho wife, they just want to keep doing wilder and wilder things.”

 

“Tell me about it,” my wife said with a grin. “I have an actual fetish for sucking cock, you would think he’d be happy with that.”

 

“I'm sorry,” I said with an almost apologetic smile. “I just, you know, I guess I'm just a weirdo.”

 

The shop owner laughed again. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I have exactly the solution you need. One that will satisfy you both. Essentially, your wife will be able to fulfill any crazy fetish scenario that you can think of.”

 

My wife laughed. “Sounds great. For him. What do I get out of it?”

 

The shop owner grinned. Thinking back, the grin had been a lot more wicked than I’d realized at the time. “Oh don’t worry honey. It’ll be great for him. It will be absolutely Heavenly for you. Almost literally.”

 

My wife and I shared a glance. “What does that mean?” she asked.

 

The woman reach under the counter and then pulled out a small box. She opened it, presenting the contents to us. Inside were two silver pills. “Each of you swallows one of these. To activate the effect, he must masturbate for exactly sixty seconds. The effect with deactivate when he cums.”

 

My wife and I each took a pill, then glanced at each other. This didn’t look like any sort of erection pill or aphrodisiac that either of us had seen.

 

We looked at the shop owner. “What exactly do they do?” I asked.

 

“You know the legend of the genie? How you can rub a lamp and then this incredibly powerful magical being will show up and fulfill your wishes?”

 

We both nodded.

 

“Well, after you take this pill, your cock becomes the lamp, and your wife becomes the genie. Except instead of granting wishes, she gets magical powers to do whatever she wants to you.”

 

My wife and I traded another glance. “Oh, okay,” I said. “Of course.”

 

The shop owner shrugged. “I know it seems pretty fantastical. All I ask is you just keep your abilities a secret. I don’t mind if you refer friends to me in confidence. But keep it on the down low otherwise. Don’t go making videos and posting them online.”

 

My wife and I looked at each other, then back to the store owner, then back at each other, then down at the pills.

 

It was completely ridiculous, and really we didn’t know what the hell these things actually were. But for some reason, I found myself just taking a sort of “fuck it, why not” attitude.

 

“You got some water?” my wife asked.

 

“Of course,” the shop owner said. She went over to a small fridge behind the counter, where some sodas and bottled waters were stocked. She gave us one of the waters, and my wife and I both swallow down the pills with it. To this day, I don’t know what exactly compelled me to put an unknown metallic pill in my mouth on the say so of a stranger, but for some reason, it just seemed perfectly natural at the time. In hindsight, I’m thinking that the shop owner might have had some strange abilities of her own.

 

I haven’t really regretted it though, and neither has my wife. Because what the shop owner said would happen is exactly what happened. Whenever I masturbate, it triggers something in my wife. She obtains incredible magical powers. She can do pretty much anything, as far as I can tell. Walk through walls, move things with her mind, transform one thing into another, become impossibly strong, teleport, all with no seeming limit to her power.

 

She becomes a literal goddess. An extremely horny, very creative goddess, intent on using her every trick to sexually dominate me like I’ve always wanted, in ways I never even imagined!

 

We don’t do it that often, actually. My wife enjoys the power, but she says it gets to be mentally fatiguing after awhile. Once empowered, she enters this strange headspace that’s just laser focused on sex; indeed, it seems like for all her abilities, she can only use it to perform or enable sexual fun while she has it. After a while, though, her mortal mind hits some kind of limit, and she has to tap out.

 

So we still end up having a lot of normal sex. The power only triggers when I masturbate, so we can have normal sex as much as we want without causing the empowerment.

 

But whenever we really want to spice things up, or whenever I’m feeling particularly mischievous, I just stroke away, and sixty seconds later, my wife becomes functionally omnipotent, determined to use her abilities to use and abuse me, and give herself supernaturally powerful orgasms!

 

The only way to depower her, as the shop owner said, is if I have an orgasm. A full, peak-pleasure, semen-shooting orgasm. Edging or milking won’t deactivate her, she has to make me cum. Considering she can make me feel pleasures no human being alive was designed to experience, you’d think I wouldn’t last five seconds under her powerful attentions.

 

Funny thing, though. Part of being all-powerful means she can casually just turn off my ability to orgasm. It’s the very first thing she does once her power activates, which means that I’m completely and utterly at her mercy, for as long as she wants me to be.

 

As amused as she is, even though she expected it of me, I know part of her really is a bit annoyed that I would pull this stunt in the middle of this art expo. I may be in for the long haul on this one.

 

And I wouldn’t have it any other way!

 

***

 

The world stayed dark. The first senses that returned to me were actually smell and taste. I was a little surprised at the aroma. I could smell and taste carnal musk of a woman, as if my face was pressed firmly against a pussy.

 

The scent and taste quickly became overpowering, but after a moment I realize that was because I was actually tasting and smelling multiple different women. Instinctively, I tried to move, but I found I couldn’t. Sight was still gone but I could sort of hear in a muffled way. I could hear the mumbling of voices and the swishing of cloth. I also realized my body felt rather strange. A soft sensation like silk or cotton or maybe both seemed to encompass my whole body. I felt as though I was curled into a fetal position but my body was bent strangely, compacted in one sense, yet stretched out and curved in another. I had the impression that my arms were tied to my legs, and my body curled into a sling-like position.

 

<Comfy baby?> I hear my wife's voice in my mind. She was using her telepathy to communicate.

 

I thought back at her. <What is this?>

 

<Can’t you guess?>

 

The taste of so much female genitalia, the scent of it. The strange way my body was positioned and the stranger way it just felt. And then the realization that I could also feel warm female flesh shifting between parts of me. It clicked what she had done.

 

My wife had erased my body and placed my consciousness inside the panties of every woman at the party!

 

<Well, not every woman> my wife said with a chuckle, reading my thoughts. <Turns out not all of them are even wearing panties, the kinky little devils.>

 

As a pair of numerous panties, I didn’t actually have a cock, but that didn’t stop me from feeling a growing sense of sexual tension. I felt a pressure near my middle, like a powerful erection, getting stronger by the second. The sense of erotic stiffness kept increasing, until it was almost unbearable! If I had still had my old body, I would have fallen to the floor and started humping the marble like a lust crazed animal!

 

But I was stuck as a piece of cloth. Multiple pieces of cloth, pressed right up against dozens of pussies I couldn’t thrust into. It was like having a room full of supermodels tie me up, make me swallow a fistful of Viagra, then bring their hands and mouths within a millimeter of my cock, but never actually touch it. Despite where I felt my phantom penis throbbing, it didn’t enter the women I was bound around. I felt nothing where I needed it most.

 

The tension was incredible. This wasn’t the first time my wife had transformed me, hardly the first time she’d pumped me full of superhuman levels of lust. But this was the first time she’d ever gotten other women involved, even if indirectly. The ladies of the party continued to idly chat away with their fellow art snobs, having no idea how badly they were torturing me, forcing me to smell and taste their pussies, but never enter them.

 

<Oh, fuck, this is mean!>

 

My wife laughed in my mind. <Yeah, well, you’re a jerk. I wanted you to be a nice, well-mannered, handsome husband to show off at my side here. Instead, I’ll have to make a duplicate of you to stand in, while you sit in your corner and think about how selfish you are.>

 

With a casual thought, she’d subjected me to this surreal sexual hell, while still mingling with the crowd, carrying on like nothing unusual was happening at all, while also creating and piloting some puppet body that looked like me. Usually, we were never in so public a place when we played our games; I was almost surprised she could simultaneously be engaging in something so non-sexual, while suffused with the magic that revved her erotic motor like nothing else. But then, her powers let her do anything. Surely it was trivial for her to multitask thusly if the situation called for it. She wasn’t about to just ditch the party partway through, after all.

 

After several minutes, it was clear she actually was going to leave me like this. I tried to apologize, but she didn’t respond, either ignoring me completely, or paying attention but enjoying making me squirm with the cold-shoulder treatment.

 

I couldn’t really tell how much time passed. I didn’t think it was that long, but things were always oddly distorted when my wife transformed me. I retained only the senses she wanted me to, in this case touch, taste, smell, and nearly-useless hearing. But unlike my human body, these senses didn’t “get used” to what I experienced. The human nose very quickly adjusts to what it smells, outside of exceptionally strong odors, taste eventually washes out if you keep eating enough of the same thing, even pain from a cut will fade on its own.

 

Not so with this form. Every “pulse” of scent and taste was just as strong and fresh as the next, coming in rapid waves akin to inhaling and licking the pussies I was wrapped around. Likewise, the feeling of firm, but soft, female flesh continued to tantalize me, and the needs of my phantom cock just would not cease! I was starting to get dizzy from the sensations.

 

<Baby> I whined mentally. <Baby, I’m sorry. Please let me go! It’s starting to hurt!>

 

Finally, she answered back, in a half-mocking coo. <Aw, poor thing. I know it doesn’t really hurt, but the need must ache so. Here, I’ll allow you one reprieve.>

 

And suddenly, I felt the sensations of dozens of hands gripping my cock. I let out a silent shout at the sudden shock of feeling. I felt my non-existent body. I was so tightly wound up with tension, that if I’d been flesh and blood, I would have ejaculated immediately! Instead, the pressure just increased; no longer was I dying for erotic contact, but now, the sudden contact was too much! I could feel every ounce of non-existent blood surging towards my ethereal cock, could feel the muscles clench and flex and jerk over and over. But I could not cum. I was, after all, just a few dozen panties. Even if my wife hadn’t taken away my ability to orgasm, I wouldn’t have been able to physically climax in my present form.

 

But now my form had expanded. I realized the hands holding me were maintaining a slim grip, as if my cock was almost pencil-thin, but still rather long. And then, I kept feeling repeated wet warmth tickle and suckle the tip.

 

My wife had linked my penis to the champagne glasses! Right now, as many as thirty women were holding my desperate cock in their hands, making me edge repeatedly just from their touch, making me edge even harder with every kiss of their lips on the glass, and just like with their panties, not a single one was aware of it!

 

<Oh, baby!> I mewed. <Oh honey! Sweetie! Goddess!>

 

<Yes, baby?> she asked sweetly, as if we were just sipping coffee at the breakfast table.

 

<Mercy! Mercy!> I could only “speak” so coherently, because I was doing it with my mind. I’m sure if I’d been human, I wouldn’t have been able to draw breath.

 

<Hmmmmm. Let me think about it.>

 

My mind’s eye was brimming with psychic tears. <I’m sorry, baby, I’m sorry! I was too selfish! I was just thinking about my own… my own entertainment! I should have respected you more! I—!>

 

My thoughts cut off as one woman, who’d sloshed her drink a bit, quickly licked along the side of her glass to prevent it from dripping on the floor. Blinding pleasure surged through me, cutting off even my thoughts as I mentally gasped from the sensation of her tongue caressing my hyper-sensitive, over-stimulated penis.

 

<Well, you do sound like you mean it> my wife said, sounding a little bit pitying.

 

<I do, I do!> I mentally wailed as I felt several fingers caressing my cock, stroking teasingly. A couple women, perhaps out of some fidgety habit, were running their fingers along the stem of their glasses.

 

And then, one woman lined up several glasses filled to varying levels, and started showing off that trick of making musical notes by running a wet finger along the rim. My mind nearly snapped as I felt the wicked sensation of slick fingers running around and around the ridge of my penishead, my most sensitive area. Even without powers, a woman could have me writhing and moaning if she did that trick to my actual cock; enhanced by the layered stimulation of my wife’s voodoo doll sensory tricks, I felt for a moment like I was going to black out!

 

Of course, a bunch of panties and glasses couldn’t black out. They could only continue to experience what they experienced, whether they liked it or not.

 

<GODDESS! GODDESS!> I screamed.

 

My wife kept me in this state of hyper-stimulation for the full duration of the musical demonstration. Only when it ended, right when I thought I was going to die from the sexual hyper-tension, she finally disconnected me, and my consciousness was allowed to go under.

 

***

 

I came to on a wet surface. I wasn’t entirely sure where I was. Below me was an almost disturbing field of vast, liquid blackness. Above me was a disorienting view of what looked like an entire sky composed of colorful geometric patterns. It was almost like a kaleidoscope view, except it didn’t move.

 

I heard the voice of my wife booming up from the horizon, saying, “Oooh, I love this piece. It reminds me of tile art.”

 

“You know he used crushed up candies for the ink?” came a female voice to the side.

 

The sky shifted, and I saw several human figures in a semi-circle, all holding a drink, looking between me and what I realized had been another painting. The perspective was disorienting. Even though they were standing straight, they all seemed to be leaning down over me. I realized I was standing sideways to the floor.

 

“Ha!” said my wife. “That’s so funny!”

 

The other people were a young woman who looked a little flushed, perhaps from too much drink, and an older, very dignified looking man on her arm. The third figure, I realized, was me. I watched a giant version of myself chuckle, shake his head, and say, “I hope his studio had plenty of mouse traps.”

 

The other woman tittered, and my wife chuckled. If wasn’t still reeling from the moment, I might have groaned. That would be a lame joke I would make. The older man, however, nodded sagely and said, “Actually, he ended up having more trouble with ants.”

 

“Uh… honey?” I said. My voice was so high-pitched, I couldn’t hear it. <Honey?> I repeated in my thoughts. I looked down, as my neck was getting sore from craning it up for so long.

 

<Lie back down> she said.

 

I did so, so I could see “upwards” to observe the rest of the gallery. Details were fuzzy on the further side of the massive room. And then, for a quick moment, something massive flashed overhead, trapping me in darkness for the briefest instant, before sliding away. I was lying on my wife’s eye, centered right over the center of her pupil!

 

<Oh, wow> I thought. This was weird, even for her. <What are you doing to me? Doesn’t this hurt?> A dumb question of course. In this state, my wife could take a bullet to the eye and not even blink. I had to be barely the size of a grain of sand right now, gently lying against her eye.

 

<Oh, I’m fine. I just wanted to make sure you got a good view of what you’re missing.>

 

She was going to make me see everything she saw, in the weirdest way. <Well, okay, but—>

 

She blinked again, cutting me off, but this time, when the lids drew back, I wasn’t alone. There were five feminine figures surrounding me. They were all in the form of my wife, but were made of what appeared to be water.

 

Before I could say anything else, they flowed over me, warping and shifting most of their body like small waves while maintaining their feminine torsos and heads. I was suddenly enveloped in a pool of warm liquid, with five female forms partly merging into it.

 

<Just relax and enjoy a nice soak> my wife said. <Sorry I got so rough with you, but you really did tick me off.>

 

That was my wife. She was just too sweet and loving to stay mad. Of course, having omnipotent powers with which to punish her husband when he got up to no good, well, she could make him learn his lesson very quickly.

 

I felt feminine hands in the water, caressing me, massaging me, and of course, curling around my still-hard cock. It wasn’t the overwhelming sensations from before, but I felt the flow of three distinct, slick handjobs rippling over my member, passing through one another as they stroked at their own pace.

 

I let out a ragged breath. <Baby…> I thought-whispered, but one of the water women cut me off by leaning over and kissing me. Her lips tasted strangely like sweet tears.

 

<Don’t get too distracted now> she chided. <You can have some fun, but I want you to at least attempt to appreciate the show. There may be a quiz later.>

 

I broke out in a small sweat, and not just from the warm grasp of the water-women. She knew I couldn’t have kept track of any of this art stuff even if I wasn’t getting gangbanged by her powers. I could only wonder what she had in store if I failed her test!

 

Two, maybe three more hours went by. My wife observed various paintings and sculptures and made idle conversations, my duplicate joining in with the occasional corny joke. I tried to pay attention to at least some of what she showed me, but it was extremely difficult as the five water-women man-handled me like a rubber ducky in a tub.

 

They caressed and tickled and massaged my whole body in ways no human fingers could, touching off erogenous zones I didn’t even know I had. They stroked and sucked and rode my cock with abandon, bringing me to the teeth-gritting, toe-curling edge again and again. They occasionally paused so I could breathe, but I suspected it was only to heighten the teasing with a start-stop-start-stop trick. I could only thrash and thrust in the pool of their bodies, which seemed to cause them great pleasure. Every so often, one of them would moan, and I’d feel the water ripple, almost vibrate, all around me, as the water-woman would experience a sort of elemental orgasm. As per usual, my wife and her creations got to enjoy multiple glorious climaxes, while I was denied until she finally reached her limit.

 

***

 

By the end, I felt like I had leaked so much pre-cum, my wife could have turned it into another liquid woman to tease me. Instead, I was dimly aware of the lights fading. I hadn’t realized we’d actually left the gallery and were heading to the car, until I was suddenly in the passenger seat, gasping and clutching at the arm rests.

 

I looked around wildly for a moment, before realizing she’d change me back to normal. Or had put my consciousness back into the body she’d been puppeting around. I realized it was very possible that the “fake” she’d made of me wasn’t actually fake. It could have been my actual body, while she’d disconnected my consciousness and fucked with it for the rest of the night, even making a tiny new body for when I’d been on her eye, while she took control of my original self. It could even be my original self had been conscious all along, and the memories I had of the night were all part of a mental simulation she’d just made up and planted in my mind at just this moment. That was how powerful she was.

 

I looked at her pleadingly. My cock was straining in my pants, feeling like it was going to burst like an overfilled tire. My wife was looking at me hungrily. She was nearing the end of her stamina for empowerment, the point at which she needed to finally turn off her powers so she could regain herself. As she described it, no matter how many orgasms she had in that state, the power itself was like a building pressure that reached a point of need for release. The true climax, she said, was when she finally let me cum, and the power surged out of her with a feeling divine ecstasy.

 

I’d never been more grateful to see that look. I was astonished she’d managed to hold out as long as she did, not engaging in the sex herself this time around. But maybe that part of her mind had been inside the water women.

 

Now the need was fully in her own body, and she reached out and pulled me to her in a fierce kiss. She grabbed my crotch, and I felt a supple vice of her power envelop my straining cock. And suddenly, we were back home, in our bed, naked, and I was inside her. She rode me like a stallion, pinning my arms back with inhuman strength, snarling and howling as her body shuddered with enhanced pleasure. My cock felt like it was melting inside her, my whole body shivering and clenching as I felt her divine essence reach inside me, lovingly grasp my soul, and nearly wrench it out right through my dick!

 

Instead of literally de-souling me, though, she instead released the block on my orgasm, and I CAME!

 

You know how some people poetically describe orgasm as “the little death”, a moment where your body seems to simply cease, your thoughts vanish, and there is only the instant of euphoric bliss touching the edge of the existential void? I’m pretty certain these supernatural orgasms are almost literally that. I’m pretty sure when she makes me cum like this, I really do die, for a moment, and touch the edges of Heaven.

 

And if I feel just the edges, surely she must take a full dip inside! As the breath leaves me and my body seizes, my head thrown back in a silent scream, my cock clenches inside her so hard, I feel like it might shoot right off my body. I feel her convulse, like every cell in her body is vibrating. She screams so loud, I’m astonished she doesn’t shatter every window in the house, much less blow out my eardrums! Her flesh feels almost burning hot, her skin buzzing against mine like she’s electrified. As I unload a copious amount of stored up semen inside her, she unleashes a torrent of female fluid upon me. The bed rattles beneath us as if caught in an earthquake.

 

Neither of us manages to stay conscious through the whole of the climax, though we certainly manage to reach the peak moment this time. As her power leaves her, and her supernatural hold over me fades, we’re reduced to two utterly drenched, wrung out, exhausted mortals, fading straight into sleep as our bodies cool.

 

***

 

“Ugh,” she mutters as she stirs awake. “So sticky.” She blushes as she realized how utterly soaked we got our bed again.

 

“Good thing we invested in a plastic bed cover,” I mumbled with a chuckle. We learned quickly that that was a lot easier to deal with than having to clean the mattress after every one of these sessions.

 

I leaned over and kissed her. “Hey, I really am sorry I was so selfish.”

 

She sighed contentedly and kissed me back. “Well, you didn’t exactly ruin the evening. But! You still have to take the quiz.”

 

I gave her a mock-nervous look. “I’m just going to admit up front, I wasn’t paying that much attention. I was little distracted, you see.”

 

She chuckled. “I suppose you were. Fine. Just tell me three paintings or sculptures you actually remembered.”

 

“Um… the… tile-like one,” I said.

 

“Uh-huh.”

 

“There was a mirror painted red.”

 

“Everyone knows that one, but okay, sure, that was also there.”

 

“The set of small rounded pillars.”

 

Her brow furrowed. “I don’t remember that one.”

 

“You know, next to the bathrooms.”

 

It took her a moment to realize the joke. She gave me a flat look. “Those were wastebaskets, you goof.”

 

“Were they? It was hard to tell.” I cracked a small grin.

 

She sighed and gave me a playful little shove. “You knew that!”

 

“Okay, okay. There was some wire frame figure shaped like a man walking a dog.”

 

She rolled her eyes. “That’s one of the outside sculptures, not part of the gallery.” With a groan, she swept aside the sheets and made herself get out of bed. She moaned as she stretched, and I took a moment to very much appreciate the view of this natural work of art I got to enjoy seeing every day.

 

“Alright, out, I need to wash these sheets.”

 

I pouted and lay back down, closing my eyes. “Five more mintues.”

 

She reached over and gave my penis a playful flick. I jumped, flinching out of reflex than any actual pain. “Out!” she chided. I laughed and rolled off the mattress, grunting as I stretched out my own kinks. She pointed to my cock as she watched it sway to my movements. “And no playing with that thing again for at least a few weeks, or I swear I’ll put an unbreakable chastity belt on you right before I de-power.”

 

My cock twitched at the thought. “Hey, that’d be your loss if you did.”

 

She fixed me with a sly look. “Obviously, I’d have a key. One that only I could touch.”

 

I smiled back. “Of course, dear.” We kissed again before getting to the clean-up.

 

I decided not to call my wife’s bluff, and held off triggering her powers until she was up for it again. Mostly out of respect. I did feel bad about pushing her this last time, and didn’t want to abuse her trust. But also a little bit because now I wasn’t entirely sure she wouldn’t actually figure out how to put me in magical chastity between her power sessions.

 

I’m not going to lie though, part of me was tempted to find out. Holding off was a lot harder than I expected. But she made sure to show me her appreciation quite thoroughly the next time she let me touch it.

 

END