We all said our goodnights, then Stefani and I made our way
back up the stairs. I closed the door to the basement and motioned for her to
wait for a moment. I reached up to a nearby shelf and very carefully removed an
old set of sleigh bells, which I silently hung on the doorknob as an early
warning system.
Stefani whispered, "Someone has been doing some serious
planning."
I quietly replied, "Yes, someone has. Is it
working?"
She answered by wrapping her arms around me and pulling me
into our first slow, introductory kiss. Our lips separated briefly, we looked
silently into each other's eyes for a moment, then our heads instinctively
tilted and our lips came back together with a deeper, more confident kiss. One
kiss blurred into two, then three, and continued until one was
indistinguishable from the next. Our mouths opened wider and wider, yearning to
feel the other partner's passion, before our tongues began a frantic dance
between her mouth and mine.
I awoke to the sound of Lizzie's bathroom door opening and
closing, and the girls' footsteps moving around her bedroom. I laid there for a
minute then reluctantly pulled myself out of bed to splash some water on my
face and slip on a pair of flannel lounge pants and a t-shirt.
I emerged from my bedroom and looked down in the great room
to see the girls standing by the sofa looking at Stefani as she slept.
Toni heard me coming down the stairs and asked, "Why is
my mom here?"
And so it began. The start of another school year. I pulled my Jeep into the school grounds and took my place in the waiting drop-off lane. Children scurried about the school grounds with crisp back-to-school clothes and brightly colored backpacks not yet soiled and tattered from use. I winced internally as numerous mothers hugged their little ones, sent them into the building, and tearfully departed.
My Elizabeth unfastened her seatbelt and eagerly fidgeted on the edge of the seat as we crept forward in line. Upon arrival at the designated unloading zone, Lizzie contorted herself over the center console and gave me a tight, all-consuming hug. "I love you Daddy!" she shouted as a volunteer parent opened the car door. And with that, she was gone in a flash. The volunteer and I just smiled at each other and shrugged our shoulders.
In the morning, JoAnne only found one skirt and jacket; with
a remarkable short skirt. And the only shoes had six inch spike heels.
Fortunately the long wool overcoat was back, so at least she could probably make
it to the office without being ravished, although as horny as she was waking
up, any ravishing was more likely to be her doing anyway.
JoAnne forced her way brusquely through the dense crowd
toward the Thai place on the corner. Lord, she hated holiday shopping; screaming
brats, the jarring sounds of ringing bells, the constant fucking "gimme,
gimme, gimme" of the damn "charity" workers. As if they weren't
really there to guilt you into forking over the goddamn money. And all these
fucking people just kept on bumping against her, wrinkling her $2000 black
skirt and jacket power suit. Didn't they have somewhere to be, didn't people
work anymore?
The sexual tension between Darren and Amy was palpable, and there
was a great chance that she might want to get at it again, during the
day. Maybe it was just best for him to have nothing underneath, he
thought.
Darren steadied himself with some deep breaths and thoughts of
rugby, then he made his way down to the kitchen.
Aunt Lily had made them ham and cheese sandwiches with a side of
potato crisps. A classic lunch he remembered always having here.
As he was watching Lily eat her lunch, he couldn’t help but
to think that those lips, that mouth had tasted his cum just moments
ago! Had she noticed? Did she like his cum?
All was dark. Darren felt his mouth was dry, he was waking up in a
warm and sweaty cave.
It took some seconds before his brain caught up to his senses.
Last night's happenings slowly dawned on him. Apart from the
darkness and the sweaty warm body he was pressed up against, his face
was also feeling itself surrounded by Amy’s tangled hair. His
body was slowly doing sensory checks and sending them back to his
brain.
As he slowly started sensing his own body, pressed tightly against
his cousin’s back he quickly became aware of other things
pressing against him.
In the countryside of Northeastern
France, lived a young widow and her daughter. Lily was an English
debutante who married the son of a wealthy French family. Her husband
died tragically in a Formula One auto race, leaving the young mother
to raise her two year old daughter, Amy. The deceased husband's
Family trust provided them a farm and stipend. Lily's sister and
brother-in-law have a son, Darren; of nearly the same age, and the
two children spent their summers together on the farm while Darren's
parents operated a seasonal business in a Resort seaside village.
Darren begins the story of how his life changed, from his visits to
Aunt Lily's Farm.
Life’s twists and turns are never what one expects. When I decided to tutor young students in history, I thought I was just doing something good – for the youth, and for myself. After several years of working at a Big Law firm, I decided I needed to do something that didn’t involve poring over legal documents and old case law. I’d always loved and thrived in history, which was my major in undergrad, and I’d always pestered my professors with questions about legal history during my years at Harvard Law.
The text confirmation came from the tri-lingual local
housecleaning company. The English translation reads; ' Yes, Indeed!' the
Toronto metro cleaning service is confirming the resident's weekly request.
“So, I’m going to be the first man to make love to you. Wow. I’m honoured.” he says. Come here baby. Daddy needs a hug. Angela steps into Kens open arms. They embrace. Bodies molded together. A tear runs down Ken’s cheek. “I’m so happy right now. This is going to be a super special summer and extra special occasion. You sure do know how to turn a guy on, baby.” They laugh.
“Yep, I can tell,” she says, laughing, feeling Kens erection pushing into her tummy. “Me too daddy. It’ll be super special. I can hardly wait. I’m wet just thinking about it.”
Ken jumps and turns around to face the voice behind him,
“Drinking my coffee and enjoying the early morning quiet. At least, it was quiet. You startled me,” he says in a loud voice his eyes roaming over a tall, slender young woman.
The young woman laughs and stretches out her arm toward Ken hoping for a handshake.
“Ah, quit your bitchin. Its not that quiet. Can’t you hear the birds chirping? Don’t be such a grumpy old man,” she says laughing again. “I’m Angela. My parents moved in next door while I was away at Uni. Nice to meet you, I think, Mr. Grump.”
Disarmed by her pleasant personality, Ken says,
“Okay, enough already. I get the message. Sorry for barking at you. I’m Ken and I’m not a grumpy old man. Its just that you surprised me. Would you like a coffee?”
“Well, actually I’m just heading out for a morning run. But, I’d love a coffee in 45 minutes. Would that be okay Ken?”
I had already packed my bags and put them in the car along with the other gear and supplies. I was beyond excited to get out into nature for awhile and disconnect from all the stress of the real world. Plus Anthony was coming with. He and I first crossed paths in a very unique situation, and had gone on a few dates after.
I told him I would pick him up at 2 in the afternoon and when I arrived he was already outside with all of his stuff. He was so pumped he was like a kid on Christmas. We loaded his gear into my car and took off.
The drive to the park was about 30 minutes. Despite it being located in the middle of a suburban city, the park was large enough where it felt like you were out in the middle of nowhere. It had plenty of trails and fishing spots.
We watched TV together for an hour, mostly in silence, which was rare for
Liz, who loved to talk during TV and movies. Nearly the whole time, I was hard,
but as turned on as I was by having Liz close again, I also didn't want to try
and force things by starting something with her prematurely. It felt right to
be holding Liz, and I didn't want to rush things.
When it was nearly ten, Liz turned off the TV. She reached up and grabbed at
my face and gently caressed it. I looked down at her, and we looked into each
other's eyes. Her face was lit by the warm glow of the fireplace. She looked so
beautiful. I leaned in and we kissed each other, slowly and sensually. This
seemed so different from how she was last night, but not better or worse. Last
night, we acted like we satisfied a hunger after starving, but on that second
night together, we started out slower and more sweetly. We sat on the couch,
making out for nearly a half-hour.
I was driving back from Boise, to be with family for Christmas. That
semester had been my most challenging yet. I was exhausted and ready for some
time relaxing with my family. We usually had the holidays at my grandparents'
house in Boulder, Colorado. Being raised in the Arizona desert, I wasn't used
to driving in the snow, so the last one hundred miles were slow going for me.
It didn't help that it had started to snow again, adding even more snow to the
roads. Initially, I planned to get to the family party hours early, but now I
would be lucky if I got there before dinner. It was supposed to be less than a
12 hour drive, but that doesn't take in the factors of road conditions and
holiday traffic.
Chris Benbury and Jennifer Sanders continue to tell the tale
of how their friendship took decades to transform into a life connection. We're
going to let them finish telling just how it happened.
"Chris," she whispered
against my lips and then turned her head before leading us into a deeper kiss.
Our tongues mingled while our hands roamed. She turned her body and pressed it
to me as if she was trying to become part of me.
Chris Benbury and Jennifer Sanders tell the tale of how
their friendship took decades to transform into a life connection. We're going
to let them tell just how it happened.
I'm Jennifer Sanders. In high school, I was Jenny, or Jenn.
One fall day in the early nineties, Chris and I met at our
high school. When? What, like the exact moment?
When I was a young girl, every summer was an adventure. The
farms around Stearns County, where I lived; would need extra help to cut, bail;
and store up the hay for the long snowy winter. Everyone did small square bales
back then, and that meant manual labor. The thing was that although the job
paid great, it was not a regular job. The hours were always subject to change,
with the weather, break downs, or hay production. You had little notice when
you were needed, and then it was only for a few days. Farm kids also had to
work on our own family farms; so you had to work it around that. Yet since
every farmer needed the extra help it was like all the kids were a labor pool
to be exploited.
I liked working the hay harvests, because it allowed me to
have spending money. Sure I was "paid" working for my dad but farming
is a long term paying type of job. I didn't get actually paid for my labor but
in the winter I would get money to go to the movies and the like.
We had been at sea for ten days when the storm hit, our
splendid vessel battered and broken into no more than firewood, all the
passengers and crew seemingly lost.
I came to, my legs dangling in the water and my arms and
upper body atop some flotsam timbers. The sea around me was calm, with small
pieces of wreckage everywhere. I tried to look around, the throbbing pain in my
head and the low morning sun making it hard to focus; no one to be seen, just
me.
Lying there
in bed, the feel of my wife's mouth and tongue as she teasingly pleasured me
was erotic enough. Marsha could suck cock like nobody's business, and she was
driving me nuts just as she knew she could. But what I also enjoyed was the
fact she got aroused, turned on whenever I shared any experiences, any stories
with her, just as she was now. And just as she so often did for me too.
"So
what happened after that night?" She then asked. I was having trouble
concentrating, but then I drifted back in time...remembering.
It had been
a very long time since I'd seen many of my old high school friends and buddies.
The last time had been at the ten year reunion, this would be the thirty year
reunion, and I knew that most of us would have changed between now and then;
dramatically.
Although I
was still in reasonably good shape, even without working out specifically, I
had still put on a few pounds, but with the exception of a few perhaps, I
figured everyone would be in the same boat as I was. I still had a full head of
dark hair, though I had noticed just a sprinkle of gray had begun at the
temples. The one thing about myself I had always considered my best feature
however, were my eyes, bright blue with just a hint of gray in them. There was
a caption in the yearbook next to my photo, it read: "Bedroom eyes".
"Do you like girls touching you?" asked Summer as
she ran her fingertips over the shaft.
Tim simply smiled in reply and she traced her fingers over
his ridges and veins.
"I've never really looked at a man's cock before,"
she murmured. "Yours looks gorgeous."
That compliment caused Tim's cock to pulse and harden.
Summer did not miss the effect her words and touch had on him. But her eyes
were on a new prize.
"Can I touch your balls? I don't want to hurt them;”
"Wait;
Mrs. Bateman; she paid to have sex with me?"
"Yes,
Todd."
"I
don't believe it; She's beautiful, I'd have fucked her for free! Any guy
would!"
"True,
but she's married and discretion is of vital importance. That is half of what
she's paying for. A great fuck is the other half. And she said it was worth
every penny. In fact she wants to come back next Friday, same time."
As I stood
there trying to come to grips with this revelation, Mrs. Bateman knelt on the
bed, her face pressed into the wet sheets. She inhaled the scent and moaned. I
glanced over and saw far enough under her skirt to see she was wearing thigh
high stockings rather than pantyhose. I stepped closer and lifted her skirt.
She was panty-less. I touched her pussy and found she was very wet.
Way back in
1977, I was a naive 18-year-old. Summer was here and I wanted to spend it
having fun. I was going to start college in the fall and luckily, didn't have
to work. Mom and Dad were fortunate and made good money. He was the VP of
Advertising and Marketing for a major energy company and Mom was actually a
successful author. I had a generous allowance and a car (a white '73 BMW) It
had been Dad's, and he gave it to me at graduation.
"Okay, now that that's out of the way, how
about some fresh drinks, snacks; and some more naughty fun!" Susan said
grinning, that aroused horny look showing through in her eyes again as both Jeff s
Buxom Becky and my wife laughed.
"I think we've unleashed a monster!" My
wife quipped, or rather Susan s Pete certainly has, anyway," she said
looking down at his groin. Sure enough, Pete's magnificent tool was standing up
about as hard and stiff as I'd ever seen it, though Becky's hand wrapped around
him went a long way in doing that.
It was the second year that the six of us had come
up here to spend a long weekend together. Jeff and his wife Becky, Bucksy
Becky, a tall very buxom brunette.
Then there s Pete, and "Repeat", as we
called her, Susan; because she looked more like his sister than his wife, each
of them with dirty blonde hair, hazel eyes, and short in stature at not even
five and a half feet, though again Susan too had fairly large tits. Though not
as large as my wife's were, more noticeable because of her short size perhaps,
almost looking top heavy.
The wait was excruciating for Robert
Carson. He and his wife, Stella, have been waiting in the doctor's office for
nearly half an hour, waiting for the results of his medical tests. Robert
hasn't been feeling well for several months. No other doctor has been able to
figure out what was wrong with him. The other doctors were able to determine
that it was not cancer or a heart condition, which Robert was grateful to hear,
but still couldn't come up with any other explanation for what was wrong with
him.
Two of Stella’s lady friends recently
lost their husbands, and Robert’s condition seems very similar to those men.
The widows weren’t as helpful as Stella hoped. Connie just said; “I guess I
knew Bill was going downhill. It’s one thing to prolong living, but why prolong
dying, Stella?”
Finally, they were sent to Dr.
Morris, a specialist on men’s health and geriatrics; to determine what might be
wrong with him. Patients from all over the country came to see him for medical
problems no other doctor could solve. Robert and Stella were lucky that they
were able to get an appointment with him. When Stella mentioned to Carol about
the appointment with Dr. Morris, Carol just said; “He’s an asshole.“ But Carol
refused to talk about it anymore.
Last week, Connie asked Stella if
Robert could come by and change the furnace filters. But Stella thought it was
just because Connie was lonely, and maybe desperate for a man’s attention.
“Sorry, Connie, Robert’s doing a long
list of chores and is not available.” She suggested finding a handyman.
‘Damn if I’ll let that hottie
anywhere near my man!’ Stella resolved.
At The Men’s Clinic.
After several days of tests, where
every aspect of his body was thoroughly examined, they were asked to come in,
to go over the final results.
Dr. Morris finally arrived. He was an
older man with thin-rimmed glasses and a big smile on his face. He greeted
Robert and Stella, apologized for being late, and sat down behind his desk.
"So, I've got good news for you,
Robert. You should be just fine," said Dr. Morris.
Robert and Stella both let out a big
sigh of relief. After having to wait so long in the office, they were both
worried that it meant bad news.
"So, what's going on with me,
Doc?" Robert asked. "Why do I feel sick all the time?"
The doctor answered. "It's a
progressive neurological condition that's throwing off your biological
functions. It should be easy to take care of with a simple set of treatment
regimens. There are no medical out-of-pocket costs, under your health
insurance. You'll have to keep up with the treatments for the rest of your
life, but other than that, you'll live a long, happy, and healthy life."
“What do I have to give up, Doc?”
Robert braced himself for a lecture.
“Dr. Morris chuckled; “Robert, if the
treatment is implemented, not only will you improve, you’ll also love the
treatments.”
"That's great to hear,
doctor," said Stella very happily. "I've been worried sick about
Robert for months now."
"That brings me to you,
Stella," said Dr. Morris. "I need to talk to you in private, if you
don't mind."
Robert and Stella gave each other a
concerning look, then looked back at Dr. Morris.
"Is something wrong?"
Stella asked.
"I just want to talk to you
about some simple things you can do, to help make Robert feel better, Mrs.
Carson," Dr. Morris assured her. "Robert, you don't need to wait
around and listen to these lengthy, boring details. You should probably wait in
the lobby. She’ll go over the process with you, when we’re done."
"He's probably right, honey,"
said Stella. "In fact; get yourself some fresh air. I'll meet you at the
café next door, a little later."
Robert agreed to leave. He was tired
of all these damned doctor visits, and was glad to be out of there. He was sick
of Stella nagging him about going to the doctors for stupid stuff. Now he heard
the first good news about his condition in months, and couldn't wait to finally
be done with doctors. Robert shook the doctor's hand, thanked him for his help,
and left the office.
When Dr. Morris was sure that Robert
was gone, he turned his attention to Stella.
"Mrs. Carson; Stella, your
husband is chronically ill," Dr. Morris revealed. "His condition is
much more serious than I let on."
"What?" Stella asked, with
a shocked expression. "How much time does he have left."
"A few weeks, at the most."
Stella was now trembling and
breathing heavily. She could feel her heart pounding hard in her chest. She had
never felt so scared about anything in her life. Several of her lady friends
were already widows. She and Robert were just beginning retirement and she had
so many plans for him.
"This is unbelievable. Why the
hell did you tell him that he was going to live?" she asked.
"Because I needed him out of the
office, So I could talk to you about his condition, and how you're the only one
who could help him. I've seen this situation before. This is deeply personal
stuff. I need to talk to you about things that usually are better said, when I
talk to the wife about it in private."
The Treatment Plan.
"Okay, I think I
understand." said Stella, as she began to calm down a little. "I need
my husband! I'll do anything to help my husband. Tell me what I need to
do."
"First, you need to know that
there are both physical and psychological impairments that are progressing
rapidly. We need to aggressively treat everything, and all at once. The
treatment needs to be applied with cheerful enthusiasm and It’s most successful
when the wife has processed the plan fully, and details it to her ailing
husband. “
“But what is this treatment? What
does it involve?”
We cannot risk Robert hearing your
negative responses, but to be fair; you will need to let yourself process this
information honestly and openly, without hurting Robert any more than he’s
already suffering.”
“I see.” Stella said, nervously. “I’m
already feeling some anxiety about what you’re going to tell me.”
Let's start with his diet. I
understand you got him on a vegan diet. Is that right?"
"Yes, it's much healthier,"
said Stella.
"Stop that immediately; that
diet is killing him," he told her.
"But it's a healthier lifestyle
and Robert loves it."
Dr. Morris continued. "It is
healthier for most people, but not for people with Robert's condition. That
diet is throwing off the neurological functions of his brain, and that's
affecting his entire body. He needs to start eating meat immediately. He needs
iron and protein from beef. Pork and poultry are okay, but beef is especially
therapeutic."
Stella was stunned by the revelation.
She was sure being a vegan was a healthy way to live, but she had no idea that
it was hurting Robert. She would not have pushed him to do it if she knew what
it was doing to him.
"Okay, I'll start getting him on
all kinds of meat right away," she assured the doctor.
"It's not just meat he needs to
start eating. You need to cook for him whatever he likes as well. If he
suggests it, you can't question it. Just cook it for him, no matter what it is.
Don’t trust restaurants to do this. You need to know what’s in the food he
consumes. And you must be punctual with his regular mealtimes."
"Yes, of course I will,"
Stella replied nervously.
"That's good to hear. Now that
brings me to my next subject. He shouldn't be doing so much physical labor
around the house. He's too weak to be doing this stuff, so it needs to all be
done by you. At least for the first months, and then he might bounce back
enough to do a little more. Yardwork, moving furniture, plumbing, painting,
electrical problems, and so on. Anything you expect a husband should be doing
around the house now needs to be done by you alone."
"But I already do all the
traditional duties of a housewife. Do I have to do that stuff as well?"
she asked, perplexed.
"Yes, you have to do it
all," Dr. Morris continued. "And don't pay anybody to do this stuff
either, it all needs to be done by you. He specifically told me that he's been
really stressed about money lately. So, having to spend more money on people to
do work around the house would be very stressful for him. And that stress could
have a terrible effect on his neurological disorder. You being so needy, is a
huge part of the neurological decline he’s facing."
"Um, Okay, I'll try my
best," said Stella. "I'll do all of his chores, and I think I can get
one or two people who could help me for free, so no money will be
involved."
"Excellent, this is going much
better than I hoped. Most wives I've had to tell this to, are not as agreeable
as you’re being. Now, I must emphasize this next part. Don’t criticize or
hen-peck him. Any more. It emasculates him. His testosterone is so low, But
fake testosterone shots don’t fix this set of complications. Too many men turn
to androgen and end up with prostate cancer."
"As I said, I am willing to do
anything to help Robert."
"That brings me to my next
subject, and this is where it gets very personal," the doctor began to
say. "You need to be more sexually available for him."
"Are you sure? We already have a
very good sex life as it is," Stella revealed. "Even with his
illness, we try to be sexual once a week, sometimes more, if I straddle his
face."
Dr. Morris continued. "Well, it
needs to be a lot more than that. As much sex as you two are having right now,
he has not been getting as much sex as he needs. You need to double, even
triple the amount of sex you two are already having."
"What?" she asked, very
confused.
"His libido needs to be in
overdrive, because of his neurological disorder, and by not fulfilling those
sexual needs, it's hurting his body and weakening his immune system."
"He never told me he needed more
sex."
"He told me specifically that.
Out of concern for you, he didn't want to pressure you for more sex. So, I'm
telling you for him; that you need to copulate with your husband a lot more, if
you want him to live. Nagging him is a big part of what’s killing him. And
never use sex as a bargaining device, ever! He needs to know that you just
can’t wait for your next romp."
"Oh, wow," Stella said,
very shocked at what she had just heard. "I always thought we had plenty
of sex already. My girlfriends are jealous of me for it. But Okay, if I have
to, I'll give him more sex."
Stella began to wonder when she would
have time to triple the amount of sex she already had with Robert when the
doctor had already told her she had to do so much more around the house for
him.
"That brings me to the different
acts of sex you have. How often do you give him fellatio? You know? Oral?"
Stella began to feel embarrassed. She
had no idea of how personal this was all going to be.
"Occasionally, well, one his
birthday, or if I feel guilty about something," she replied.
"But do you bring him to
completion?" Dr. Morris asked.
"Sometimes."
"And when you do, do you
swallow; or let him cum on you?"
"A little of both, I
guess."
"You need to start swallowing his
cum every single time," said Dr. Morris. "And I don't just mean only
whatever shoots out into your mouth. You must suck out whatever remains in his
penis after he has finished ejaculating. Leaving any cum inside of his dick
after a blowjob could be detrimental to his already compromised psyche."
Swallowing his ejaculate is a powerful way of showing him how desirable he
still is. He must see himself as a desirable man.”
"Um; sure, whatever you
say."
Stella didn't mind swallowing her
husband's cum, she just didn't like to do it every single time. She preferred
that he cums on her face or tits, after a blowjob, or that he waits to cum in
her vaginally. But she told herself that she was willing to swallow every drop
of cum, if it meant helping Robert.
"And you need to fondle his
testicles a little, while you're blowing him."
"Huh?" she asked, very
confused.
"His testicles are very
problematic right now, and a good massage with your tongue could be very
helpful. The circulation improves, and is essential to production of both sperm
and natural testosterone."
Stella sat there, wide-eyed from
having to listen to all of this. She wanted to question the doctor about the
reasoning for all of this. But she decided that he was the expert, and she
should probably listen to what he had to say, even if she didn't entirely
understand any of it.
"Is there anything else?"
she asked, feeling a little worried about what she might hear next.
"Yes, he needs to stop providing
you with oral sex as well."
"What?" Stella snapped at him.
"It's not good for him. He says
you’re using estrogen cream. Is that accurate?”
“Yes, I apply it vaginally, once a
week. “
“You need to apply it at least 4
times a week. It helps your vagina restore firm and ridged walls. That is
essential to aiding Robert’s sexual stimulation. He’s developing some
neuropathy of his glans penis. But the cream, while essential to the lifesaving
treatment regimen; is contraindicated for his testosterone levels. You need to
coat his penis with a massage oil prior to intercourse, so that his skin does
not absorb your estrogen. The oil also aides his sensory functions. Quadrupling
the estrogen will also make your sexual tasks much, much more pleasant, and
even help you be more enthusiastic about his needs.”
“Do I need a prescription oil?”
“No, Sweet Almond oil is odorless and
inexpensive. The neurological disorder is causing his body much stress, both
physically and psychologically. But back to the matter of orally arousing you.
He needs to focus on pleasure, not stress. Worrying about getting you off, will
only exacerbate this situation even more."
"Can he at least finger
me?" she choked back her tears, hoping for a positive answer.
"Only lightly, and never to get
you to orgasm. Your body needs to be optimal for aiding his vaginal copulation.
If you orgasm before he’s ready to, the withdrawal which your vagina goes
through, will thwart his treatment success."
"You have got to be fucking
kidding me?" Stella said, as she was starting to get angry at the doctor.
Dr. Morris continued his explanation.
"In fact, he also shouldn't be working to get you to orgasm during vaginal
sex, either. It would stress out his neurological disorder if he had to
concentrate on getting you off. You should just let him have sex with you,
focus on getting his own orgasm, and focus on the relaxation he derives from
accomplishing it. And you need to be happy about it; to make him happy, so he
won't stress out about having to get you off as well."
Stella was seriously getting pissed
off right now. She was being asked to give up so much for her husband already,
and now she was being asked to give up all of her own sexual priorities.
"Is there anything else I should
know about?" She asked, trying to keep herself from screaming at him.
"Okay, let’s move on to the next
part of his treatment objectives. Do you have any attractive friends?"
Stella was afraid of where this was
going, but she thought she needed to be honest with the doctor.
"Yes, a few of them are very
attractive," she answered. She almost audibly added, ‘with sexier bodies
than mine.’
"Can you refer me to one of
them?"
A Team Effort.
Stella felt confused, but also a
little relieved. She was afraid he was going to suggest that also Robert fuck
her girlfriends, for the betterment of his health. Asking her if she could hook
him up with one of her attractive friends, was still very strange and probably
unethical, but it was still better than what she had thought.
"No, I'm sorry, doctor. I'm not
comfortable with hooking you up with any of my friends."
"That's no problem," said
Dr. Morris. "But it's probably best that you get your friends to fuck
Robert as much as possible."
"Dammit!" Stella screamed.
"You can't be serious."
"It's for the betterment of his
health," Dr. Morris assured her. "By having sexual relations with
other women;"
"That's it, I'm calling bullshit
on all of this!" Stella yelled at him. "This has got to either be a
messed-up joke or some kind of fucking scam you're pulling. There's no way all
this needs to be done for my husband's health."
"I assure you, Stella, this is
all real. He'll be dead very soon if you don't."
"No way. You're lying about all
of this. In fact, I think Robert is probably in on all of this, too; so he
could get whatever he wants, even more sex from me and other women."
To prove he was telling the truth,
Dr. Morris spent the next hour providing Stella with absolute proof of Robert's
condition. He not only showed Robert's medical results, but also documentation
and studies of Robert's condition, provided by hundreds of doctors over the
last 50 years; to show the methods of treating his condition. He even showed
her online interviews of women who had to do the same exact things that Dr.
Morris suggested, for their own husbands; and how it helped save their
husbands' lives.
Stella was dumbfounded when she saw
all this evidence. She looked over every detail, trying to find something to
suggest the doctor was wrong, or lying to her about everything.
Eventually, Stella had no choice but
to concede that not only was Dr. Morris telling the truth, but also that Robert
needed all of those things that the doctor told her to do for him, in order for
him to live.
“Mrs. Carson; your husband is a
devoted man. Perhaps to a fault. He perceives that he’s no longer sufficient
for you. And it registers as rejection, in his psyche. Rather than fooling
around behind your back, he has man you too influential. You control his self-esteem.
Your libido is waning, but he really believes that you’re less than satisfied,
and he subconsciously translates that as his becoming less and less of a man.
He won’t ask for more, because he fears rejection, and the crushing effect it
would have on his fragile self-image.”
“His emotional damages are now
becoming physiological impairments. As you fully and earnestly implement these
therapies; and I mean all of them; Robert will come alive, again. Psychologically,
he’s become very emasculated. Psychiatrists often mis-diagnose this as clinical
depression. But their psychotropic drugs only make the condition worse. He’d
become completely impotent, and probably suicidal. But we’re not done going
over the treatment plan, yet. Shall we continue?”
"Okay, I concede that everything
you're telling me is absolutely true," said Stella. "I'm sorry I
didn't believe you before. I'll do everything you say, and I'll see what I can
do to get my attractive girlfriends to fuck Robert. If any of them say no, I'll
help him get sexual satisfaction from other women, no matter what. I just can’t
see how sharing him with other women will save his life?"
"Mrs. Carson; the treatment
protocols will reset his self-image, impressing upon him that you know he’s a
very desirable man. Your love will manifest as selflessness and self-reflection.
It will impress upon him that he’s so amazing and desirable to all women.”
“I'm sure this is not going to be
easy for you, since you're being asked to do a lot to help Robert," said
Dr. Morris. "But you'll be doing a great thing for him, and he can live a
long and happy life. He admits that he’s been cranky and impatient, Mrs.
Carson. I can encourage you by saying that women who adopt these changes, all
say that their husbands are so much more pleasant to be around. Some of them
even return to more recreation and entertainment, eventually."
"As long as he gets to live,
that's all that matters," said Stella.
"That's good to hear," said
the doctor. "Inviting a girlfriend to join your sexual treatments, will be
a way of dealing with your own orgasms, so long as one of you two ladies save
yourselves for Robert, first. If a girlfriend stimulates you to orgasm, it must
be in Robert’s presence, and You have to let him have his way with your
girlfriend, before she has an orgasm by your ministrations.”
“Do I have to be there while he fucks
my girlfriend? I don’t think I can bear to watch him fuck another woman,
especially one of my floozy friends?”
“Yes! He needs to see her as a gift
from you, for his healthy recovery. The stress of feeling like he’s cheating on
you; could kill him. Trust me. Men die during sex, because of the stress they
undergo. We just don’t report that the death was from sex-related stress. The
survivors are simply told that they died in their sleep.”
“Oh! Two of my girlfriends said their
husbands died in bed. This really is serious, isn’t it, Doctor?” Stella thought
about Carol, her friend from the Bridge Club.
Carol used to gripe about how
disgusting her husband would be about sex. But last spring, Carol said she came
home from brunch and errands, only to find Carl lying lifeless and naked in
bed, at 1:30 in the afternoon. Carol claims it was his heart condition and
stress, that killed him. Now Carol is angry with Carl for disserting her, and
now she’s miserable.
“By the way, you also need to let him
copulate anally, with you, especially early on, while his sensory nerves are
limited by penile neuropathy. Your vagina will restore it’s tight and ridged
attributes after a few weeks of regular Estrogen cream therapy. Then Robert
will find your vagina sufficient to arouse and stimulate his glans nerves, and
he’ll have much better sexual response. But until then, Use a lube and utilize
the attributes of your anal muscles, to achieve the immediate outcomes he needs
right away."
"Sure, why not?" Stella
replied sullenly.
"Also, when he has sex with
other women involved, I emphasize that you always be there, and join them. And
definitely let him sit back and watch you ladies have sexual pleasures. Don’t
allow him to further shame himself by thinking he’s not faithful to you. He
will always be faithful to you, Mrs. Carson. It may kill him, but he will
always be faithful. That’s who he is. If you arrange the events and keep a
happy attitude about it, He will see it as a complimentary dynamic, and not a
competitive threat. Do you want me to explain to you why that's
important?"
"No need. I'm sure there's a
good reason for all of that as well."
When they were finally done, Dr.
Morris walked her out to the nurse’s station and handed her a written directive
for treatment. They shook hands and said their goodbyes. Stella left the
doctor's office, thinking about all the humiliating tasks she was directed to
provide. She put the 6 pages of directives in her purse, and went to the café,
next door, where Robert was waiting for her at a corner table. She sat in the
chair in front of him, and he handed her the coffee that he had ready for her.
"You were with the doctor for a
long time. Is everything alright?" Robert asked.
"Robert,” Stella paused. The
prospect of no more of his skilled cunnilingus, overwhelmed her.
“There's no easy way for me to
tell you this, Robert.” Stella thought about the anal sex they once tried, some
25 years ago. It was so degrading to her.
Trembling, she blurted out; “Robert.
you're going to die."
"What?" Robert shouted.
"Doc said he was confident that I was going to be just fine."
"He lied! He just didn't want to
be the one to tell you, so he wanted me to tell you for him. He's a fucking
coward. He was crying like a little bitch after you left. We’re never going
back to him, again! I’m so sorry, Robert, but that’s how it is."
"How much time do I have
left?"
"A few weeks; at the most."
Robert was hyperventilating. He had
never felt so scared in his life.
"Oh my God. Is there anything
that can be done to save me?" Robert asked.
"Absolutely nothing," she
replied. “I don’t know how I’m going to go on, after you’re gone, Robert. Hold
me, please!
