Up to Eleven
by Pan
One.
Eric was thoroughly unsurprised to see his wife was at One.
He’d known Jamie had a lower libido than him when he’d married her. He’d told himself that it would be fine, and that love would conquer all…and it wasn’t like he’d been wrong. They’d been happily married for almost five years, and he really did love her.
It would just have been nice if she were a little more…adventurous. Sexual.
Horny.
Submissive.
It was this thought that got him over the edge—his body twitched, his right leg kicked, and his hand never slowed down as his cum arced over his own prone body.
Five minutes later, he’d cleaned up his mess, and headed downstairs to where Jamie had breakfast waiting for him.
That was the thing—it wasn’t like she was witholding sex deliberately. If she knew how often he jerked off, how much he wished they would make love more than once every week or two, he was sure that she would have offered more.
But that wasn’t what Eric wanted. He didn’t want his wife to fuck him out of obligation—he wanted her to want him, as much as he wanted her.
That’s why he’d bought it.
“Waffles?” Jamie trilled out merrily, and he shot her a smile.
“My favorite,” he said warmly, and she leaned over for a kiss.
He hadn’t used it. Not yet.
A part of him wondered if he’d ever use it. Hell, it probably didn’t even work.
But if it was a scam, it was an extremely elaborate one. After he’d first calibrated it to his wife, the number had changed regularly. It could have just been at random, but…it didn’t feel like it.
About six months earlier, Eric had decided to test it. When he and his wife made love, she was almost always the instigator. It was the only way he felt he could know for certain that Jamie wanted it, that she wasn’t just making love to him to fulfill her side of the matrimonial contract.
She’d approach him about two or three times a month, a coy look on her face. Sometimes she’d just be wearing her normal around-the-house clothes, sometimes she’d be wearing much less. Once or twice, she’d even dressed in the lingerie she’d worn on their honeymoon, just to see the look of delight on his face when she did.
The signals couldn’t have been more clear—he’d move his mouth to hers, run his hands around her body, and within half an hour he’d be cumming inside her. Sometimes Jamie came, sometimes she didn’t; it wasn’t a high priority to her. She just liked knowing that she’d made him happy. That was what excited her.
And knowing that she was excited was what excited Eric.
But as part of the test, Eric had—completely uncharacteristically—made a move on his wife.
They’d been laying in bed, he’d leaned over and kissed her, and it hadn’t been long before she was writhing under his touch.
Before things got too far, he’d pulled back. To his delight, his wife’s face now held that coy look he loved so much, but he’d fobbed her off, telling her that he’d just remembered a call he had to take for work.
As soon as he’d gotten back into his office, he’d checked the app, and sure enough…Seven. The highest he’d ever seen it go. His wife generally made her move when it got to Five.
One time, after of his regular out-of-town trips, he’d come home to find it at a Six. His wife had worn lingerie that night.
Eric sat in his office, slowly watching the knob tick back over the next hour and a half. When it got down to Four, he made his way back into the bedroom, knowing that was probably too low for his wife to initiate anything. He found her fast asleep, a half-smile on her adorable face.
Eric loved his wife. He loved their life together, he loved their once-a-week sex, he loved her body, he loved her mind. She was everything she’d ever wanted—he just wanted more.
He wanted her to approach him for sex every day. Twice a day. He wanted to make love to her as often as he brushed his teeth. And as much as he enjoyed taking his wife under the covers in the missionary position, he wanted to explore some of the positions he saw in dirty movies, some of the sexual stuff he’d read about online.
Eric wasn’t a pervert; he didn’t want to do any of the really extreme stuff he’d read about. Some of it excited him, sure, but only in the abstract. As hot as the idea of his wife swallowing his piss was, he knew that he’d never actually do it. He couldn’t.
No matter how much he wanted to.
Similarly, even though he’d fantasized about seducing his wife’s younger sister, it could never be more than that—a fantasy. Eric had a sister of his own, and the idea of doing anything with her was repulsive. Having his wife do something similar would be downright cruel; she would (quite rightly) find it repugnant, and it would probably ruin their family dynamic forever.
He wouldn’t be able to live with himself.
And then there was stuff that he’d seen people discussing online that just made no sense to him at all. Like bestiality—the image of Jamie with their great dane, Rufio, the pup that she’d had since before they’d met…just the idea of it made Eric sick.
But there were some perverted images that held an undeniable appeal. Cumming on his wife’s face, for example. Assuming that she was wearing her glasses, and there was no chance of any of his semen getting into her eyes, and there was a cloth nearby so they could clean it off again straight away…if all of those were true, that was an idea that got him hard.
Or submission. The idea of his wife begging for his cock, begging for him to cum. Begging for permission to use her body to please him, and obeying his every command.
If Eric had calibrated the app to himself instead of his wife, he knew that just thinking about his wife on her knees would be enough to send him straight to Seven or Eight.
After breakfast, Eric returned to his office. Unable to stop himself, he checked the app again.
One.
Jamie spent most of her time hovering between One and Two. What made her number rise and lower wasn’t clear, but he figured that was just part of the mystery of women. When he saw it creep up to Four, he’d stop masturbating for a few days, knowing that they’d soon be making love.
The morning after sex, it’d drop straight back down to a One, where it would stay until the mood hit her once more.
The app had been absurdly expensive, but he’d been unable to resist. A few days after he’d downloaded it, it had disappeared from the store; Eric had tried googling around to see what had happened, but there were no references to it online anywhere. As far as he knew, the copy on his phone was the only one that existed.
He just hoped that an OS update wouldn’t render it unusable.
“Honey,” Jamie said, coming into his office, startling him so much that he dropped his phone. “I…”
Eric turned to see what his wife wanted, and—to his great surprise—she had that look on her face.
That coy, two or three times a month look.
“What’s up, darling?” he asked nervously. His wife had been at a One. He was sure of it. He’d just been looking at the phone.
He glanced down at his pocket computer, but it was sitting face-down on the carpet, and he couldn’t see what the screen showed.
Pah. It was probably a scam after all. He’d spent more than a hundred dollars—a truly crazy amount of money to drop on an app—to be scammed by a simple interface with a number that fluctuated at random.
He sighed, turning back to his wife. If he’d suspected she was going to be ‘in the mood’, he wouldn’t have bothered jerking off that morning.
“I came in to let you know that…”
Jamie trailed off and shook her head, her eyes dark with lust.
“…it doesn’t matter.”
To Eric’s great surprise, his wife dropped to her knees in front of him. In all the time they’d been married, they’d never made love outside of the bedroom. Hell, they’d never made love outside the bed.
What had gotten into her so suddenly?
“I want you,” she murmured. “God, Eric. I want to taste you…”
What was happening?
Eric’s eyes widened.
The app.
Before he’d dropped the phone, he must have…he must have accidentally brushed up against the screen.
He must have adjusted his wife’s number. Straight from a One to…god, he didn’t even know what number he’d set her to. For her to make the first move, she had to be at least a Five.
For her to do something like this…god, she must have been at a Six.
Or higher.
“Honey,” he gasped, as his wife’s petite hands fished his cock out of his pants. “I…”
“Mmm?” she said, looking up at him. To Eric’s surprise, he was hard again. Hard, after just cumming a few hours earlier; that was practically unheard of.
“Nothing,” he whispered.
Eric stared, agape, as his wife’s mouth slowly lowered over the top of his cock. This was something he’d fantasized about (literally that morning) but never, ever expected to see.
His eyes flicked towards his phone again.
The app had done this.
The app had made his dream come true.
A few minutes later, as Eric’s hips thrust involuntarily and he came down his wife’s willing throat, he realized; he would have to investigate the app a little closer.