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I wanted him to have a good view. In my haze of lust, I wanted him to want my wife. I wanted him to wish it were him sliding his thick black cock into the sweet folds of my wife’s pussy. I whispered to my lovely wife, “Bill’s watching, he’s stroking his cock, watching us, wishing he were sliding deep into you.” But it was not his dick feeling the gentle rippling of my angel’s soft pussy. Her clasping warmth slid down my shaft as I struggled against orgasm. She rode me to orgasm, and then I made sure Bill could clearly see her pussy lips pressed against my balls as I pumped her full of cum. As I lay on the bed kissing my wife, I hoped Bill imagined it were his cum dripping out of my wife. --- The next was Saturday, and everybody was home. I went over to help Bill split a cord of firewood he had picked up that morning. We took turns running the splitter, and stopped for a break when it ran out of gasoline. “So, what did you think?” Bill was a little awkward at first, but he. That may have been a one-time thing or they could randomly occur from now on while on top of your current condition. ‘So is there any way to lessen the extent of my pain?’ ‘Yes, with anti-convulsion medicine, pain killers, and maybe some antidepressants, we might be able to lessen the extent.’ ‘By how much?’ ‘Well, at this point we can’t quite be sure. With drugs, we can make it so that you won’t black out if the seizures persist, make the pain tolerable, and maybe take away the edge of the depression so that you won’t become suicidal.’ ‘It’s too late for that.’ ‘So it won’t kill me, but it will fill me with excruciating pain and make me incapable of happiness?’ ‘Yes,’ Dr. Turner said mournfully. Not wanting to bother staying in the hospital, I asked to be discharged. Before leaving, we stopped off at the hospital pharmacy to pick up my meds. I was holding my hands out in the cold October air as we drove, hoping that the raw chill might ease the dull throbbing in my fingers. The pain.
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