When Paul was struck with a mysterious virus, it was pretty much the end of his world. Sadly for him, he did not live in a time where there was good medical knowledge, the doctor's had no idea what to do for him, and it was thought that he would die. Contrary and strong-willed, he survived. They told him that he was lucky to survive, although he wasn't so sure once he realized the permanent damage to his once strong and healthy body.
His beautiful and sweet wife Christine was not only understanding, she took care of him, nursing him through the virus and back to a semblance of health. Still, even her tender care couldn't bring back the feeling below his chest, it couldn't bring back the use of his legs. Or the use of his manhood. Feeling more and more bitter than he could not fulfill his wife's passions, although they tried many times to bring his manhood back to life, Paul started sulking. He didn't want to try again and see the pity and disappointment in her eyes. Only in her eyes, for Christine loved him too much to let it show anywhere else.
It pained him that they slept every night in a marriage bed that was empty of passion, empty of her heated moans that had once driven him insane with lust. He felt like less of a man and a husband for being able to fulfill all her needs. They tried and experimented with other things, but his fingers were still weak although skillful and he couldn't always find the endurance for them to bring her off that way. Getting into position for him to lick her was always tricky because if she put too much weight on his chest he might not be able to make it rise enough for him to breath, and there was always the trouble of getting air while he was under her anyway.
And so Paul grew more and more bitter and angry at the state that he'd been left in. He tried not to take it out on Christine, because it was not her fault at all, but he could tell that she was sad that he had stopped even trying. Not so much because she was a creature of pleasures, although she enjoyed them, but because she missed the intimacy. He missed seeing her face as she came, gasping beneath him. He missed hearing her moaning cries, feeling her body, watching her. Sometimes she would still play with herself for him, but mostly it just made him angry that he couldn't do this for her, and so the times were few and far between.
Then one day his best friend Jason came over to visit while Christine went out shopping - she never left him unless there was someone there to keep an eye out for him - and Paul had a brilliant idea. Jason was their age, but had never married because he was too busy chasing too many girls. So far he had yet to fall in love with a single one of them, but he was also not promiscuous exactly... although not a virgin he hadn't slept with more than 4 women in his entire life. He enjoyed the chase more than anything.
"Jason," Paul began hesitantly, not sure how to put this. His friend looked at him expectantly, "Well. I've been having trouble with Christine."
"With Christine?" Jason's expression showed his obvious surprise that Paul would be having trouble with such a dutiful, faithful and sweet wife. He'd known them all their years and even when everyone thought Paul would die Christine stood by him.
Nodding, Paul tried to think of how best to put it, "As... as man and wife. In bed. Because..." his crooked fingers gestured to his lower body, understanding bloomed on Jason's face. "And, I want her to be happy, I..."
"Paul," Jason leaned forward earnestly, "She IS happy. She loves you, whether or not you can, um, perform like you used to."
"But I can't at all," some of Paul's frustration began to seep into his voice, "And we've tried and I can't, and we've done some of the other substitutions, but it's still not really working because I'm just too weak... and I don't feel like I'm being good to her or to her needs." Jason sat quietly as different emotions flickered across his friends face, not really understanding why Paul was telling HIM this, but understanding that he needed to share it, "And I want to fix that. I'm her husband, somehow I should be able to give her what she needs.
Looking at Jason, Paul could see that his friend seemed to understand what he was saying. He took a deep breath, "I think... well... you've always said you think Christine is pretty." Paul stared pleadingly at Jason, asking him to figure it out without Paul having to say it out loud.
Horror and shock rippled over Jason's face, "Paul... you can't... you don't mean... what..."
Silence descended as the two men stared at each other, both of them struggling with a myriad of complex emotions.
Slowly, Jason gathered his thoughts together, "Paul... you're my best friend. She's your wife. I would never ever think of doing that to you, Christine is pretty, but she's YOURS."
"Exactly," said Paul, his eyes pleading, "She's mine... but I can't do it for her. I can't give her what a husband should... so as my best friend, I want you to do it for me. Don't you see? Then, in a way, it's still me... you're doing it for me, she's doing it for me... I'm still there. I'm still her husband, and I'm still finding a way to give her what she should have."
Jason struggled to understand, Paul seemed so desperate, so in need... but he was also horrified at the idea of sleeping with his best friend's wife.
