Too Long: A Charli and Draken Epilogue

by Richensexi, Amanda

  Charli clenched on it secretly. And immediately wondered if they all knew what she was doing. Something told her they had to. She made a low, gurgling sound of dismay.

  “What was that?” Draken said with audacious innocence.

  “H-horny,” she mumbled. “So horny. You know that, you awful person. And I miss you and it’s all your fault.”

  He stroked her hair. “Are you hungry for dinner, Mrs. Horny? She’ll have a cream soda and the chicken kiev.” Charli looked up to see the elegant female server smiling behind them.

  “No!” she exclaimed.

  But then Draken casually bounced her on his knee, a "friendly" move that sent a jolt of blood through her. She couldn’t help but clench. And then…and then the most amazing ripples began to shudder through her passage. She gasped. Her eyes widened.

  And registered all. Their stares.

  On her.

  Definitely knowing stares.

  “Mr. Almatto!” she choked out. “It’s…it’s….”

  “Mm, I see. Wei,” Draken asked in his deep carrying voice, “what’s my wife’s graph like?”

  The wiry, pleasant-looking man sitting a few places down had his head buried in his phone. “She’s at status ready,” he said without looking up. Then he seemed to remember Charli was present and glanced up to smile at her, blowing his cute guy-bangs out of his eyes. Mortified, she covered her cheeks with her palms. “Mrs. Almatto, you can relax. We’re monitoring your vitals. You don’t have to do anything. The instrument is reading your…uh…signals just fine.”

  “Signals?” cried Charli. “What signals?”

  “Oh, well, you know, the usual conditions, temperature, humidity, neural impulses, pressure….”

  “Pressure.” Charli’s appalled gaze met Draken’s warmly amused one. “Pressure.”

  “How hard you’re trying to fuck the stick,” he said mildly. “You heard Mr. Young. Sit back, relax…let it happen. This isn’t an experiment, just a demo, darling. No stress at all,” he added.

  “She’s close…status three already,” Wei said suddenly. “The program’s running. She’ll be feeling the gyrations soon…actually, now.” Next to him, Owen reached for the phone and Wei pointed to the reading. The two men abruptly stared at Charli.

  Then somebody said, “Did it start?”

  And Charli was paralyzed with self-consciousness as inside her body, without her doing anything, she felt ripples electrify her passage. The sensation traveled smoothly, secretly into the stem of her clit, making it feel like it had swelled to the size of a pinky finger. She shifted in astonishment and confusion.

  “Status three sub E,” Owen blurted. “Mrs. Almatto, ah, have you begun to, ah….”

  “Not yet,” Draken said, tweaking a dark curl away from her glasses. “She’s still getting adjusted. You’ll know when it happens. I promise. It’s absolutely…unmistakable.”

  “Oh!” Charli heard the exclamation before she was conscious of making it, jolted by a new sensation inside her body. “Oh, crap. Crappy crapshit.”

  Regrets, as always, washed over her too late. Why had she agreed to this? Why had she naively said yes please to letting a roomful of international robotics scientists observe her trying out Draken’s latest evil self-pleasuring device, just because she was both skeptical of and desperate to experience this legendary ten-minute orgasm of Draken’s?

  That’s why.

  Oh.

  He was stroking her arm, saying something—not to her. To one of the male scientists. While she was on the edge of…orgasm?

  If so, it was such a strange one. There was no sensation of climbing, reaching, straining. Just a wave oncoming that she couldn’t avoid, hitting her and receding, then advancing farther. It felt terrifically good. And made her feel utterly vulnerable. She had no control over this. She glared impotently at Draken. Who deliberately turned to the person next to him and started talking about the latest blockbuster movie.

  While Charli sat ludicrously on his lap, just…being revved up.

  Gradually her world reduced to her pussy. All was the pussy. She was the pussy.

  She supposed it was inevitable. Days of denial, days of longing for her absentee husband…now her pussy was all she could think of. It was severely inappropriate. Abysmally demeaning.

  Except not really.

  These moments with Draken—it was always Draken who created them—were some of the most transcendent they shared. As much as he faked ignoring her, Draken was fully aware of what was going on, hard as steel in his pants, and utterly in love with her. She knew that.

  That didn’t make it any less embarrassing.

  Sublimely embarrassing.

  As if his deep voice were the signal, everybody else started talking to each other, too.

  And that, of course, was when it happened. When something swept her up in its powerful grip, making her protest, “Draken, I’ll never forgive you for…oh my shit oh my shit ohmyshitohMYSHIT!” It rang out mortifyingly loudly.

  That was bad enough. But what had her gripping Draken’s arm next was the orgasm being of unexpected intensity and just…not…stopping.

  Discretion was impossible. She hadn’t anticipated that. She’d sort of planned, if this thing worked the way it supposedly did, to bite her lip in a subdued, mannerly way, tuck her chin down mutely, and perhaps let him hold her while she secretly quaked inside. He’d said it wouldn’t be too intense. She’d been reassured by being fully dressed.

  Nope.

  This was not intense?

  Not intense?

  She sat on Draken’s lap chewing the flesh of her inner cheek to keep from yelling out. The reverberations weren’t so unbearably powerful that she completely lost her mind, but they were…wonderful. Getting wonderfuller. Ramping up every second, in fact.

  Staying still was not happening. Squirming was. Draken’s arm was a tight band around her, minimizing her movements. Abruptly she realized she was humping his leg. Oh, no. Oh, God. She had to stop. Humping. Him. No matter how rock-hard his thigh was.

  Don’t go for the knee bone!

  But how could she stop?

  It felt goooooood. So. Fucking. LUSCIOUS.

  Wow.

  Wow wow wow, oh, WOOOOWWWWWWWW.

  The room fell silent, suddenly drawing Charli’s attention. She blinked through dazed, fogged eyes, trying to see everyone through her steamed-up lenses,. Her jaw had slackened and harsh sounds were issuing from her not-so-ladylike throat.

  She was their focus. No, her pussy was. Her pussy was the focus of everyone in the room. Because it was her focus, and because she was being loud about it. And moving around in an entirely inappropriate way, given she was sitting here at a professional dinner conference and it simply did not stop. For a moment. It came in waves, never letting her off the ride. They were right. This wasn’t the same as a multiple orgasm.

  Stop panting. You’re too noisy. You sound like a sex-crazed maniac.

  How? How am I supposed to stop? Tell me that! The damned orgasm isn’t stopping!

  I don’t know, just stop—pant—pant—panting—

  OK, but then I have to get it out some other way!

  “Dra—Dra—Drak—Kake—Drakay!”

  She heard, “Shhh” and felt Draken gather her up more tightly in his arms. At that point, she ceased trying to reason with herself and just clung to him.

  “You doing okay?” he said quietly. “Owen says your pulse is fine, everything looks good on this end,” and when Charli didn’t answer except with tiny, animalistic whimpers he prompted, “Take it out?” Mortification burned her face as she shook her head. “You like it in?” She nodded, cringing.

  Hearing him inhale through his gritted teeth and knowing his cock was primed for her, she came even harder, shuddering.

  “Can she comment?” she heard someone say, and Draken answered, “Better wait. She's adjusting. How many minutes?” and someone said after a pause, “It’s only been two, we’re just beginning…now three. S
ix and a half more to go. Four hundred seconds more or thereabouts.”

  That “four hundred seconds” exploded in Charli’s mind. Four hundred seconds of sinful pleasure in her pussy while the whole room watched. Oh, lordy, if only she weren’t the only one here experiencing this! If only someone else were here as a guinea pig, too, another demonstrator dividing people’s attention, maybe it wouldn’t be quite so humiliating.

  She was the sole focus.

  Had Draken guessed how utterly fabulous it would be?

  Obviously.

  “I wish we had some external input aside from the vocalizations,” she heard, and then her husband drawled, “That could be arranged,” and while she was thinking, oh, hell and damnation, these data nerds are probably recording my rude noises on audio, it hit her what Draken must mean by “input”. Right before she was lifted off his lap and carried away.

  Draken was carrying her even as she orgasmed and the other diners watched. It seemed wrong, very wrong. She hiccupped helplessly. And gave Draken an outraged look when she found herself laid down on the floor. Stretched out on the gleaming hardwood floor! How was this science? Oh, no! Her skirt was being peeled up to her waist and her knees were being raised and spread wide and everyone was standing around her, looking at her bare pussy as she climaxed.

  Bare pussy. While clothed.

  Spread open.

  Climaxing. On the floor.

  With a sex toy inside her. Sticking out just enough to be rude.

  No sooner had the thought of closing her legs passed through her than she realized she couldn’t; her diabolical husband had wedged her ankles between the leg bracers of two chairs to keep her legs apart. It was one of his favorite tricks.

  Suddenly it hit her how bad the situation was. She was lying here, stuck and exposed, in the private dining room of an elegant historic hotel under the unrelenting stares of a bunch of strangers. The realization alone nonplussed her. Being nonplussed made her moan with ecstasy. The sound of her own moan made her chagrined, and chagrin started the cycle all over again.

  Charli heard the scientists talking. She was terrified they would take out their phones. She heard her husband murmuring.

  But did she care? Not so much.

  Because the orgasm went on and on and on.

  It was so on.

  And unlike most orgasms, there was no winding down, no sense of exhaustion. If anything, it ramped up more the longer it continued She tried to focus in the general direction of Draken’s voice.

  When she found him by the glow of his auburn hair and realized he wasn’t even looking at her, but had his arms folded across his chest and seemed entirely unselfconscious despite the hard-on tenting his pants, she became crazed. Even knowing why—every other cock in this room would be nearly as hard—fallout of working in sex toy development; Charli was used to it by now. But this was Draken virtually flaunting his erection at her in public.

  It was good, it was good, it was insanely good.

  “Time?” she heard, and then “Three hundred twelve seconds to go. Almost halfway there. She’s still going strong.”

  Halfway? “Oh, my God,” she cried out.

  Draken turned toward her with leisurely casualness. He went silent, as did the others around him. Some of the scientists had gathered close enough to block out the light. They were staring directly down at her on the floor. The others sitting at their tables and still eating were no doubt looking at her as well.

  Eating…some of these people were eating through this! Damn them! And waiters were moving around! With dessert trays!

  I mean they all look polite and encouraging, none of them are being deriding…you'd almost think this was routine for them. But still!

  This was beyond wrong. Yet Charli couldn’t bring herself to stop it. She could only try not to blabber more than the necessary minimum. “Draken! Draken! Ah!”

  “Like I said, unmistakable,” she heard her husband say.

  She winced. Shut her eyes. Tried mantras.

  Something brushed her hair. Her eyes flew open and she saw with alarm that a server had stepped around her. Plates were being removed from the tables. She saw a tray of after dinner drinks. She glimpsed Draken talking to one of the servers, the server nodding.

  Probably threatening him with unspeakable horrors if he should say anything.

  Indeed, a moment later her husband was crouching down and murmuring an astonishing figure in her ear.

  “That’s how much you—paid them?” she managed. “It’s enough to live on for—the rest of their—lives if they’re thrifty.”

  He grinned and kissed her cheek.

  She managed to grab his arm. “What if—oh GOD—what if they do anywayyyyyyy. Drak—Draken what if they talk about me to the whole world?”

  “Shh, then we’ll pay the fines, launch a PR campaign for sexual liberty, double your close protection, move to the deep jungle…do whatever we need to do, darling. As always.”

  “But your professional repuTATION OH MY GOD.”

  “I’m not worried. Relax, baby.”

  “I am relaaaaxed oh shit Draken it feels, it feels, it’s too much, I can’t bear it.”

  “You can always take it out…erm, ask me to,” he amended, assessing her and accurately gauging her unwillingness to let go of him for anything.

  “Is she commenting?” Suddenly everyone was surrounding them, pushing in. “Mrs. Almatto, hi, I’m Glen Glasnwolski, nice to meet you, can you describe the sensations? How does it compare to a self-originating or partner-originating orgasm?”

  “Not nooooowwww,” she wailed. “Interview me later! Please cover my face.”

  “Can’t, it’s data,” Draken said blandly.

  But it wasn’t her face they were looking at primarily, but her pussy, as well as her breasts, which she feared were moving unfettered under her blouse. With all that writhing and all the convulsions, she started to become aware of her muscles tiring.

  She began gasping for oxygen. It was no worse than playing volleyball, though. She'd swear exercise endorphins were kicking in, in addition to the regular climax. She started to stammer as much to Draken, knowing he'd find it interesting, but changed her mind at the sight of all the faces.

  They showed rapt awe along with earnest enthusiasm. These folks were really into this stupid technology. Sure, there was a little bit of lust, but she had no fear. She didn’t know how Draken managed it, but somehow he kept people in line whenever he orchestrated such events.

  Charli shut her eyes, wishing she were alone with him so she could go wild. Although knowing all these people were making her the center of attention was unbearably, sinfully delicious, the cherry on top of her orgasm sundae.

  Draken was right. It was the perfect way to celebrate.

  Draken had been the first man to figure out that Charli’s conservative manner and dress hid an exhibitionist-cum-hedonist soul with more kinks than a chain link fence. Kinks that needed one catalyst to activate…a catalyst that had turned out to be him.

  Her husband relished this part of Charli, no doubt about it. Relished driving her beyond reason, despite his possessiveness. It wasn’t unknown for him to growl at anybody who came too close to her. Yet when he indulged her on birthdays, holidays, and other special occasions, he reined in his lock-Charli-away-in-a-cave urges so she could satisfy her burst-out-of-the-cave-naked ones.

  She loved him so much.

  “How much longer?” she panted.

  “Three minutes or so,” came the answer, and she gurgled and began to pleasurably sob.

  Chapter 8

  DRAKEN WATCHED HIS DELECTABLE wife wantonly test out what might be the sexiest device ever commissioned by Almatto Tech Joy and wondered how much longer he’d survive it. Each second that passed, the urge to carry her out of here grew stronger. Or hell, to leave the room, as so many had done before him. He doubted Charli had even noticed the others leaving. Half the people here were now uninterested in her appearance except academically only
because they’d vanished for fifteen crucial minutes.

  But taking the edge off his lust never worked.

  The only one who truly satisfied it was Charli, herself.

  Charli.

  Wife.

  Voluptuous tits shaking, exotic pussy on display, sassy mouth yelling, freckled cheeks glowing with embarrassment, big brown eyes fluttering at him happily behind those adorable lenses….

  Charli, his perfect woman.

  Belonging to him and him alone.

  She was the center of his world.

  But nothing lasted forever. Fuck life to the bowels of hell. Everything had to change, even the heavenly bliss of marriage. He’d known from the beginning it would come to an end. Just as this killer long orgasm must fade away, so too did his exclusive relationship with this irreplaceable woman. Their relationship was doomed. He'd finally accepted the inevitable, but it infuriated him no end.

  Gritting his teeth, he bent again to her. “Enjoying yourself?”

  “Mmph—yes oh God yes.”

  “If you yell any louder, they’ll hear you out in the lobby.”

  The shamed look on her face, combined with the lust, was quintessential Charli—cute and innocent and defiant all at once. He glanced at the pendulum clock on the wall. Damn it to fuck and back. He wanted all night with her, not just a few more minutes. But the plane Matthew'd had his office schedule was waiting for her to board.

  “How’s she doing?” he asked Owen.

  “Status five sub two,” Owen said, clearing his throat. “Everything looks excellent.”

  “She’s really into it,” Wei blurted. “Enjoying it. From—uh, a numbers perspective. That is to say, her plot—graph—the data, it seems to say, indicate, she’d be a satisfied, uh, consumer, if she weren't, uh, your wife.”

  Both men looked shell-shocked. Draken couldn’t blame them. Charli tended to have that effect on heterosexual males. Also on bi or gay females. Hell, on straight females too, and gay men. On road signs as well, presumably, and orbiting satellites. Her orgasms probably reverberated throughout the galaxy and triggered stars to go nova. He’d long since recognized that he’d married a love goddess. He ground his teeth as he stared at her sweetly agonized face.