By GratDelay

This story will make a lot more sense if you have read Lucky Cup. What follows is a standalone scene that happens sometime in the year after the end of the story.

We were playing a game that Aaron came up with. We called it ‘Sixty-nine’, obviously.

My head was trapped between Aaron’s thighs, and my thighs were trapped around Aaron’s head. I could not pull my mouth all the way off his cock, nor could he do likewise. Our hands were glued to each other’s asses, and Aaron was kneading my cheeks. No light reached our eyes, but we could hear each other’s moans and growls.

Smart boy Aaron had used his warp tubes to flip our cocks right-side up in relation to our tongues, a nice touch.

The first time we tried it, we both had trouble with circulation in the arms we were resting on, so I added in my spit-rotation feature. Dozens of stubby tendrils of smart matter coming from our combined mass were extending and shrinking beneath us, slowly turning us so that I was on my right side for a while, then my left.

The smart matter encasing both of us was using all of the data it had gathered about us in the last year to monitor our arousal, but the stimulation was up to us.

Here were the rules: when the program detected one of us getting close to shooting, it would send a warning pulse into the other’s ass, which was a signal to ease off on his pole. If either of us shot too soon, our suits turned into a rigid statue for five minutes, and the game counter would reset to zero. The only way to win was for us to get thru 69 sequential orgasm denials. The smart matter would not release us until we won or we both crapped out – meaning we lost our hard-ons or hit a hard limit of 4 hours. If we crapped out we’d be released, but our cups would keep us from getting off for a month. There was also a no-penalty release if a medical emergency condition was detected. When we reached 69 denials without shooting, we still had to go thru a bonus challenge before we were freed from our bondage. Whoever came first in the bonus round was the loser, and would be unable to access the program controlling the other’s junk for a week, so it became a mad rush to work each other hard while fighting off the urge to come.

I had no idea how long it had been; maybe two hours? We had suffered two resets. First Aaron came after 20 denials, then I did after 15. This was kinda strategic for me, because I found it easier to go the distance after I had come once.

Now we were in the final stretch, and I was wallowing in that desperate need that had shaped my last 10 months. Aaron’s tongue was moving in gentle expert swirls trained into him by all our practice controlling each other’s sexual responses, and I felt really really close. As often happened at this point, I wondered if the software was reading me wrong, because I didn’t think I could avoid shooting my load, and I was kinda OK with that because I was so desperate to come, even though it would make the game go on for a lot longer.

But then Aaron stopped and I groaned with frustration. If the smart matter suit hadn’t put a rubbery guard over my teeth and didn’t prevent my jaws from closing too far, I might have chomped down on him. But feeling my growl through his cock must have pushed his buttons, because I got that warning zing on my prostate and let my tongue rest.

Sixty-seven! We were so close!

Suddenly Aaron was going to town on my dick with all he had. I tried to shout at him to slow down, but clearly he thought he was going for the win. I hadn’t even cooled down from the last ‘round’ but I tried desperately to clamp down and stave off the inevitable. I was thrashing as much as I could, and trying to dig my claws into his ass cheeks. Couldn’t he fucking feel the warning pulse from the suit?! But he was too focused on winning the game and trying  to make me his bitch for a week.

I love edging but I fucking hate trying to stop myself from coming!

This is what’s tricky about the Sixty-Nine game: there is no scoreboard, no display with the denial count. Even while you are trapped in a perfect bondage suit attached to your hot boyfriend; even while you are being expertly edged and doing the same to him; even as you get more and more desperate to come … you have to keep count.

I was shooting. It was a fucking intense one, and it was just what my body had been screaming for, but even before I finished pumping into Aaron’s mouth, my attention was turning to how pissed off I was.

Our suits froze, turning us into an erotic statue. Yeah Aaron, now do you get it? You fucked up.

The game would go on. Good thing it was a Friday night. I was thinking about the real bonus round, whenever we finally got there. I’d be damned if I would let Aaron have sole control of our programs after this, and I would fucking make sure he spent the week thinking about what he’d done.

Metal would like to thank the author, GratDelay, for this interlude! You can find the entire Lucky Cup series listed in Stories by Title.