He eyed her when she sucked in a breath, making his cock jerk. “I’ll go get the laptop,” she whispered, looking down at what he did to her. She eyed him and smiled. “Later, maybe you can…kiss them while...”
Ben lowered his hand at feeling the sudden tremor in it, closing his eyes with the burn of her words. While she masturbated?
God, she wanted his fingers in her, making love to her like he’d watched her do. He wanted to feel what that was like. He always loved how hot and wet and soft she was when they made love. He missed that.
He watched her slip into a white silk robe and tie it, her pretty smile peeking at him over her shoulder. “You’re staring?”
“Yes.”
“You like watching?”
His cock jerked with a desperation. “I love it.”
She hurried back to him with a smile but something electrifying in her eyes spoke directly to his cock. She gave him a careful peck on the cheek and hurried off, leaving him to somehow survive the most brutal hard on.
He recalled the times when they made love. He realized he missed far more than that with her. So much more. He mourned the things his ignorance stole from him. Like masturbation. That was something young kids dealt with, he’d never even considered it in marriage, certainly not as something a couple would do. Together. Why shouldn’t it be permissible? They belonged to each other. As long as they were doing it together, for each other, with each other, where was the sin in that?
Ben wasn’t about to violate God’s laws even while being shaken like a ragdoll in the jaws of death and regret. He considered it carefully, allowing his mind to sift prudently through what he knew. After a long moment, there was nothing he could find prohibiting it. Except for a man’s seed not being wasted, he found nothing. And for Cheryl, there was no way for her to have any more kids since her emergency surgery with Charlie.
If God wanted a sin to be known, He was capable of having it written clearly. Ben was astute but not a fanatic that would project interpretation just to fit what he wanted or didn’t want, like many people he knew did.
He turned his mind to other sexual topics. The particular one that would never cease to burn in his mind. I want you to kiss me here.
Oral sex was one thing he’d known about but sort of considered it something that wasn’t really entertained by religious people. Cheryl never made any indication that she’d wanted anything like that. And he never thought to want it for himself either. It just…. didn’t seem like a natural thing to want, so his mind never contemplated it.
Now, he couldn’t stop pondering it. I want you to kiss me here.
Thick arousal hammered his midsection until he was nearly dizzy with it. At least it seemed from that. It was a distraction from the usual entertainment he got from Big Grumpy Gorham.
His attention turned to Charlie, and joy talked his lips into a smile. The relief in his boy’s eyes and face. The thrill and hope. “This is a miracle!” he’d cried. Ben agreed that it was, even though he hadn’t a clue about any of it yet. There was plenty of reason to question everything about it. And yet, that was the very nature of miracles--vehemently demanding of our human doubt. By that merit, the head transplant was top-notch miracle quality. A seeming impossibility grinning with an absurd possibility.
Ben didn’t or wouldn’t deny the hope it gave all of them. He’d take what he could get and hold onto it with all his strength.
The door opened and Ben watched his smiling wife enter with her arms full. “I may have to make two trips.” She kicked the door shut and hurried to the foot of the bed. “I have your laptop, your mouse, uh, mouse pad.” She leaned and deposited the electronic load onto the bed. “Charger, glasses, ummm…” She looked at him. “What else?”
What else? Ben had no idea because he couldn’t think past the beauty in her face and smile. He knew that at this stage of the disease his vision might be impacted, his perceptions too. He was positive he was seeing different things. Or maybe seeing more—deeper than before. She seemed to be glowing and there was a literal light in her eyes that made him want to call her closer, see if it was just the angle.
“I can’t think of anything. Besides needing the bathroom,” he realized.
“Oh, I do have a simple home-made bathroom idea for that!”
She hurried out the room before he could ask, staring at his laptop. Reaching with his leg, he used his foot to work it toward him. Once it was in his lap and opened, he realized it was dead as can be. He eyed his charger and gave a sigh of defeat. He wasn’t ready to attempt more. Spending over a month deteriorating in the hospital while they learned he was hopeless, aggressively hopeless, had weakened his body.
He spied his glasses and realized he’d forgotten he’d ever worn them. Alarm sped up his heart. What else did he forget? Not knowing the answer threatened to send him into a panic. He needed to have Cheryl go over everything in their life, every detail, so he could keep track. Funny he could recall every negative promise the disease had made to him. He needed leverage if he was going to fight back.
The second he thought the words, he recalled how some people gained more abilities with some disease. There was no reason to think his case should be different. Ben wasn’t high maintenance when it came to hope. He needed just a little light to get through any darkness.
He decided it was time to exercise his deep-faith muscles if he was going to battle. That meant not just hoping for good things but expecting them.
“Voila,” Cheryl sang entering with a wagging mason jar.
“Interesting.” He eyed her, finding himself unable to not smile at her as she came to a stop next to him, eyes at his midsection.
“Do you want me to give you privacy?”
For that? “Definitely.” There was nothing sexy about urinating in a jar and being attractive for her suddenly felt like the most important thing in his life.
She hurried to the closet and pulled down a blanket. Back at the bed, she opened it and spread it over his groin, then lifted the edge and slipped the jar under it, that twinkle in her eyes aimed at him.
He took it, wondering her plan for when he needed to go the bathroom for jobs a jar wasn’t cut out for. He unscrewed the lid and placed his penis in the opening. He could manage a bathroom trip with the wheelchair. He wasn’t in the best shape, but he wasn’t an invalid.
His bladder took its time emptying and Ben eyed Cheryl as she busied herself setting up his laptop. As a rule, Ben had shown appreciation for the gift of life by taking care of his body. So did Cheryl. They both ate healthy and exercised. By current standards, he felt like they were attractive middle-aged people. Ben caught a glimpse of her breast in the gaping robe, making his cock lift in the jar. Cheryl still had the body of a twenty-something-year-old and now all he wanted to do was stare at it. Naked. Every angle. As if all his newfound knowledge demanded he make up for every stupid neglect before it was too late.
“Done,” he announced when she set the laptop next to him from her side of the bed. “How’s Charlie?”
“He’s in bed,” she whispered, taking the jar from him. He was relieved she didn’t make comments about it as she set it on the floor next to her nightstand. She straightened and gave him a sudden smile. He almost commented about that light in her eyes, but his gaze lowered to her hands on her robe tie. She slowly tugged the sash, releasing it. He stared at the white silk panties beyond and the way it covered her mound like a gift. He lifted his gaze to her breasts, seeing the outer swell of her cleavage. “Your secretary is ready.”