A Special Father's Day Gift Pt. 03

I pulled into the Smith's driveway and took a deep breath as my car came to a complete stop. This had been one of the longest weeks of my life. I've gone much longer than a week without cumming before, but this was a completely new experience. The events of the week before had been playing in my head continuously since the moment I left this house seven days ago. My memories were so vivid it was like watching a movie. I could see Mrs. Smith's jeans darkening as her own hot piss poured out of her bladder. The image of her bright red ass striped with welts from the flogger was burned into my brain. If I closed my eyes and let my memory take over, I could even feel Mr. Smith's cock throbbing between my lips and taste his sweet cum running down my throat.

For the first two days following what I have been referring to as "The Cleaning", I enjoyed replaying these memories in my head. I laid in bed with my hands or a toy between my legs and let the memories wash over me. I brought myself to the brink of orgasm over and over, but always stopped short. I edged at least a dozen times in just two days, but by the third day I realized I was stuck in a vicious cycle. The more I thought about "The Cleaning", the hornier I became, which only made me think about "The Cleaning" more.

By the fifth day, I was a complete mess. If I let my mind drift, even for a second, the memories would take over. I did everything in my power to resist the urge to lay in bed and masturbate all day, knowing it would only make things worse.

Mr. Smith had instructed me to edge at least once a day. I was in no danger of failing that assignment. Despite my efforts to avoid sexual arousal, I found myself masturbating constantly. Every time I walked past a busy bathroom, I wondered if any of the women in line were close to wetting themselves, which provided the seed for my brain needed to spin intricate fantasies. The next thing I knew I was sitting in a bathroom stall or hiding in a fitting room with my hand between my legs.

The worst part was that as I cleaned other people's homes I could not stop imagining myself cleaning in nothing, but a pair of jeans with a full bladder. As you can imagine, it is very hard to clean when your pussy is soaking wet and your mind is a million miles away. More than once a client complained about the quality of my cleaning.

It had been rough, but after seven days of orgasm denial I was closer than ever to getting my release. The only thing standing between me and the most intense orgasm of my life was Mr. Smith, but he would certainly not let me cum without earning it first. He would want to test the limits of my bladder before I was allowed any release. Thankfully, my bladder was already full and I was getting more desperate by the second, so whatever he had in mind would not last long.

Stepping out of my car, I expected to see Mrs. Smith running on her treadmill through the big bay window as usual, but today the blinds were closed. I walked up to the house and as I reached for the doorknob, I realized why. Faint slurping sounds and intermittent moans were coming from just inside the door. I hesitated, normally, I would just enter the house without even knocking, but I was not sure what was appropriate in this case.

I tapped my knuckles on the door twice. "Come in," Mrs. Smith responded.

"You better not be wearing anything but a pair of jeans when you walk through that door," Mr. Smith added breathlessly.

Without hesitation, I slipped my top off and unhooked my bra. It felt strange to bare my breasts in such a public place, but something about Mr. Smith's voice and confidence reassured me that if I followed his instructions everything would be fine and that if I didn't the consequences would be dire. I turned and looked behind me as I opened the door and saw a young boy across the street mesmerized by my half naked body. I waved at him as I stepped through the door and closed it behind me.

Now on the other side of the door, the slurping sounds were much louder. I turned towards the origin of the sound and saw Mr. and Mrs. Smith in a sixty nine position on the couch. Mr. Smith was on the bottom with his face buried in his wife's cunt. He switched back and forth between plunging his tongue into Mrs. Smith wet folds and gently sucking on her clit. Mrs. Smith was twirling her tongue around the head of Mr. Smith's cock paying extremely close attention to his frenulum.

How on earth were they not cumming?! My pussy was so sensitive after the past week that a minute or two of gently rubbing my clit was enough to get me close to orgasm. If Mr. Smith's tongue was swirling around inside me like that I would cum in seconds.

I had only been watching for a few seconds when Mr. Smith screamed, "Edge!" Mrs. Smith hurriedly removed Mr. Smith's cock from her mouth and began counting backwards from ten.

"Ten...Nine...Eight," she counted rhythmically as best she could with her husband eating her pussy. She often paused to moan and catch her breathe.

After what was definitely longer than ten seconds, she counted, "One," and began moving her head back towards Mr. Smith's cock, but just as her tongue was about to make contact with the head of his cock, Mr. Smith pulled her ass cheeks apart and buried his face in her ass. Mrs. Smith gasped as he slid his tongue from her pussy to her ass and plunged it as deep as he could into her tight little hole. Mrs. Smith engulfed Mr. Smith's cock in her mouth, ramming his whole cock into the back of her throat. She started bobbing her head up and down on Mr. Smith's cock with reckless abandon.

After only a few seconds, both of them screamed, "Edge!" and immediately pulled their faces away from the overstimulated genitals of their partner.

After a few seconds of nothing but heavy breathing Mrs. Smith said, "You are going to have the worst case of blue balls you've ever had in your life by the end of the hour if that's the pace you want to set."

An Hour!? I thought to myself. How long had they already been at this?

Mr. Smith respond with a wry smile on his face, "This is already the worst case of blue balls I've ever had so do your worst. I want to show Amanda what sort of torturous denial she's in for if she can't control her bladder."

"In that case, Amanda, why don't you handle the countdowns for us. I don't think either of us is going to have enough air or mental faculties for that in a few minutes," Mrs. Smith said without turning her head away from her husband's cock.

I began counting, "Ten...Nine...Eight..." Both Mr. and Mrs. Smith tensed, preparing for the onslaught of sexual pleasure that was about to overwhelm them.

"Three...Two...One". The race was on. Mr. and Mrs. Smith attacked each other's genitals. Slurping and gagging sounds filled the air. Mr. Smith's cock was disappearing and reappearing before my eyes as Mrs. Smith slammed the enormous cock in and out of her mouth. Thick saliva from the back of her throat was dripping all over her face and his groin. Mr. Smith was putting on an equally impressive display, devouring both of his wife's holes.

I stood completely still and watched in amazement as the couple continued to edge each other with no sign of stopping. I have no idea how much time passed or how many times each of them edged, but I would have been reduced to a dripping mess if I was in their shoes.

I was in the middle of counting down for Mrs. Smith's most recent edge when an alarm went off. Both of them collapsed on top of each other breathing like marathon runners after crossing the finish line. The incredible display Mr. and Mrs. Smith had been putting on in front of me had the delightful effect of distracting me from the building pressure in my groin, but now that the display was over, however, my bladder reminded me of its current state. I crossed me legs and pressed both my hands into my crotch, partially to help support my bladder muscles and partially to put on a show for Mr. Smith.

Mrs. Smith sat up so she was sitting on her husband's face and jiggled her ass before standing up. Mr. Smith got to his feet, his face drenched in his wife's pussy juices. He licked his lips and smiled at me. "I see you have followed through on our wager," he said. Looking me up and down.

I wanted so badly to please him, so I tried to be the sexiest submissive I could. "Yes, sir. I am wearing nothing, but these jeans. Not even a pair of panties. And my bladder is already bursting," I said trying to sound as confident as I could, but I knew my voice was shaky with nerves.

"And what about your week of orgasm denial. Have you been a good girl?" Mrs. Smith asked.

"Yes, ma'am. I have not cum. It has been especially hard because I couldn't get the memory of last week out of my head. I masturbated multiple times every day," I answered, trying to be succinct.

"Just be glad you did not have an hour of edging everyday," Mrs. Smith said.

"You did that everyday?!" I exclaimed.

"Not exactly what you just saw, but similar," she answered.

"Do you have any more questions or can we begin?" Mr. Smith asked clearly annoyed.

"Sorry, sir," I answered quickly.

"I have some good news and some bad news for you. The good news is that you will cum before you leave here today. The bad news is before that happens we are going to test the limits of your bladder muscles. Is that understood?" He asked.

"Yes, sir. I will do my best," I said.

"Good. First things first. This house needs a good cleaning. According to my wife, It usually takes you about an hour to clean the whole house. Based on your current state of desperation, we both know you won't last that long, but how long you are able to stay dry will determine how much edging you will have to endure before we let you cum. Here's how it's going to work. If you lose control in the first fifteen minutes, we will edge you for three minutes per minute it takes you to finish cleaning. So to be clear, if you were to let go right now and finish cleaning in an hour we would edge you for three hours," Mr. Smith explained.

My heart sank as he spoke. The idea of being edged at all was terrifying. Three hours of continuous edging was inconceivable. My already aching bladder would have to hold on for dear life.

He continued, "If you lose control in the first thirty minutes, we will edge you for two minutes per minute it takes you to finish cleaning. And if by some miracle you last longer than that it will be one for one. To prove to me you understand, how long will you be edged if you hold it for twenty three minutes and it takes you thirty eight minutes to finish cleaning?"

Twenty three minutes meant that it was two minutes of edging for every one minute of cleaning, but what the hell is thirty eight times two? Who knew that a full bladder and a soaking wet pussy made it hard to do math? I tried to concentrate on the math problem, but ignoring the overwhelming signals of pain and pleasure emanating from my groin was next to impossible. forty times two is eighty. two times two is four. Eighty minus four...

"Seventy Six!" I blurted out.

"Perfect. Time starts now. Get cleaning," Mrs. Smith said with a chuckle.

I headed into the kitchen to start cleaning. Mrs. Smith headed upstairs and Mr. Smith followed me into the kitchen, not bothering to put on any clothes.

At first I tried to move quickly, but that made my predicament much worse, so I tried to find a balance between cleaning as fast as possible and not disturbing my bladder. Mr. Smith stood in the door to the kitchen watching me, occasionally stroking his cock. He either stared at my crotch looking for wet spots or watched my breasts bounce as I moved. I was not sure where Mrs. Smith went, but apparently she was not interested in watching me struggle.

After ten minutes, it was becoming increasingly hard to retain my composure. I found myself pausing intermittently to fight off waves of desperation, which was significantly slowing down my progress. A few times I tried to clean with one hand so I could keep the other pressed between my legs, but my progress was abysmal only using one hand to clean.

"You're almost at the fifteen minute mark. How are you feeling?" Mr. Smith asked.

"I think you know the answer to that," I said through gritted teeth as I fought off another wave of desperation. I had to do something different or I was not going to last very long. I needed to make it to the thirty minute mark if I wanted to keep my edging to a reasonable duration. I came up with a plan. If I stopped cleaning and just focused on holding it I had a better chance of making it to the thirty minute mark. Yes, that meant I was not getting any cleaning done, but my progress was slow at this point anyway. After, I wet myself I could rush through the rest of the cleaning.

I stopped cleaning and turned to Mr. Smith, who was slowly stroking himself. I tried to look him in the eye, but I could not tear my eyes away from his throbbing cock. I had never seen a cock in this state. The head of his cock was almost purple it was so full of blood. His shaft was rock hard and pulsing with the beat of his heart.I crossed my legs, pressed both hands into my crotch, and bent forward. This combination of methods eased my situation slightly, but not as much as I would have liked.

"Honey, it looks like Amanda figured out the strategy you thought of yesterday," Mr. Smith yelled to his wife.

"I'll be down in a minute to see. I'm just going to pee real quick," she yelled back.

I tried not to listen as Mrs. Smith walked into the bathroom and began peeing. She must have left the door open on purpose because I could hear her heavy stream of pee splashing as it hit the water in the toilet. The sound was torture. Listening to running water or the drip of the faucet would have been painful enough, but knowing that the rushing water was coming from another woman's bladder made it even wore. My sore bladder wanted nothing more than to release all the tension in my body and let hot urine pour out of me. My bladder would eventually get what it wanted, but my pussy would pay the price if my bladder failed me now.

I was grateful when Mrs. Smith's stream started to ease and the sound quieted. A little while later, I heard the toilet flush and then footsteps coming towards me.

Mrs. Smith walked into the kitchen, still naked, holding a bottle of lube and a silicon object that was clearly a sex toy, but I could not tell what it was. I was just glad to have some distraction.

Mr. Smith looked at the sex toy in his wife's hands and said, "Please. No. I can't handle that right now?"

"Bend over," Mrs. Smith said in a more dominant tone than I had heard her use with her husband before. Mr. Smith bent over the kitchen table and spread his legs.

"Good boy," Mrs. Smith said as she placed the toy on the table. She opened the bottle of lube and squirted a generous amount into her hand. She walked towards her husband and reached between his legs. The moment her hand brushed his balls he let out a long low moan. If his balls were as sensitive as my clit I could only imagine how good that felt. She continued gently rubbing his cock and balls until he was completely coated in lube. She squirted another generous helping of lube into her hand, but this time she rubbed the glob of lube between her husband's ass cheeks. To my surprise, after only a few seconds of teasing his hole she easily slid two fingers into Mr. Smith's ass and began gently fingering him. Mr. Smith groaned apparently deeply enjoying the sensation.

I had never met a man who wanted anything anywhere close to his asshole, much less enjoyed two fingers shoved up it. Without removing her fingers from Mr. Smith's ass, Mrs. Smith reached for the toy on the table. Now I could see it was a butt plug with two silicon rings attached. She slid the smaller ring over his cock and the larger around his balls, all the while continuing to finger his ass. Once both rings were in place, she pulled her fingers out of his ass and began working in the butt plug, which took surprisingly little effort. Once the plug was all the way in, Mrs. Smith gave her husband's ass a hard spank and said, "Stand up and show our maid what a cock ring does to an already throbbing cock."

Mr. Smith stood up and faced me. I thought his cock had been hard before, but now I could see every vein as if they were about to burst. His balls were squeezed tight at the base by the second ring, I could only imagine the extra pressure was making his blue balls even worse.

"Now show her what a butt plug does to man," Mrs. Smith ordered. Mr. Smith rocked his hips and a dribble of pre cum oozed from the tip of his cock.

Mrs. Smith looked at me and said, "See that?" pointing to the precum oozing from her husband's cock. She proceeded to wipe up the pre cum with her finger and stick it in her mouth.

"mmmmm. Delicious," She moaned.

"Watch this," she said as she grabbed the little bit of the butt plug that was not buried in her husband's ass.

"A little prostate stimulation makes a man gush," she said as she began shaking the butt plug. I watched as a stream of precum drizzled from the tip of Mr. Smith's cock. This time she wiped up the pre cum and walked towards me.

"Open", she said in the same demanding tone she had just used with her husband. My jaw dropped without me even thinking. I had once again lost complete control over my body except this time it was Mrs. Smith who had taken over. She placed her finger in my mouth and I instinctively licked off the pre cum. I swirled my tongue around her finger hoping to find more remnants of semen.

"I think Amanda likes the taste of your pre cum," Mrs. Smith said removing her finger from my mouth and walking back towards her husband. The taste of Mr.Smith's pre-cum lingering in my mouth launched me into a vivid daydream of the events of last week, but it was short lived, as I remembered myself desperate to pee standing with my legs spread, my bladder decided it was time to remind me just how full it was right now. A wave of intense pressure passed through my bladder. My bladder muscles were able to maintain control, but I was not sure how much more they could take. I was definitely approaching my limit. I shifted my hands hoping to find some sort of relief, but nothing was going to help me at this point. I just had to hold on and hope my exhausted bladder muscles were strong enough.

"Twenty five minutes down. She might make it to the thirty minute mark," Mr. Smith said.

"I doubt it. Look at her legs shaking. She's already doing everything she can to hold on," Mrs. Smith responded.

I had to prove Mrs. Smith wrong, but my bladder felt like it was going to pop.

After what felt like an eternity, Mr. Smith, said "twenty eight minutes." How could only three minutes have passed?! I could feel my bladder muscles weakening by the second, but all I had to do was hold on for another two minutes. I focused all of my energy on controlling my aching bladder.

"One minute," Mr. Smith announced.

"Oh God!" I screamed as an intense wave of desperation washed over me. I jammed my hands into my crotch as hard as I could, but it was no use.

As my bladder erupted, I spun around so Mr. Smith was able to watch the show. A torrent of urine burst into my pants and warm piss soaked through the fabric of my jeans. It spread out along the crease where my ass meets my thighs, then it ran down the back of my legs. Streams of urine started to reach the bottom of my jeans and drizzle onto my feet. I continued peeing until my bladder was empty and every inch of my jeans was soaking wet.

I had never felt such relief. Relaxing my bladder muscles felt orgasmic. I just stood there in my drenched jeans enjoying the delightful lack of pressure in my crotch.