Deb On A Roll

I've been accused of being a wimp husband as a result of my wife's attempt to help out the marriage of our friends Tom and Deb - you can read about it in "Lana Helps Out." Hopefully shedding some light on what happened on my end of the swap will change some opinions.

*

As my wife was walking out the door for her date with Tom, she stopped to say good-night to our kids.

"Mommy's going out to a party tonight," she said, "but Daddy will be here with you for a little while and maybe Aunt Deb will stop by. Then you're going to have a sleep over at Whitney's." This brought cheers from the children.

I didn't know what to do after she left. I stayed upstairs, just sitting on the bed, until there was a knock on the back door. That would be Deb, I knew, since we modified that door slightly for her wheelchair. My daughter Sara let her in, and Deb immediately followed her into the TV room to see what they were watching. I made myself more presentable, put on some cologne, and went downstairs.

"Hi Deb." I said.

"Oh, hi, Eddie. Sara was just showing me her sing-along microphone." Deb returned her focus to my daughter and giggled with her as they played along. Since the accident, I have admittedly not been as attracted to Deb as I once was. But seeing her playing singing games with my children was off the charts, turn-off wise.

So I sat and watched straight-to-video Disney movies for an hour, not saying anything, until Whitney rang the bell at about 8:30. She came in to gather the children's things up – all the while looking more than a bit confused at the fact that Lana was out, I was here with another woman, and I was giving no appearance of leaving the house that evening. She is a good kid - the daughter of my friend Bob - so I tried to cover it by telling her my wife was staying with some friends who were having trouble with their marriage.

Once I closed the door behind her and the kids I thought, "Now it's going to get interesting."

I opened some wine and we sat around and talked for a while, but the conversation really sucked. It was not erotic or even remotely stimulating, just normal shit about work, weather, the Tar Heels, etc. I like to think that I have "moves" or at least the remaining vestiges of them, and that I could put them on if I wanted to. But since nothing was working at all, I finally said, "So, how is this supposed to work?"

"Well, isn't that romantic?" she said. "Well, maybe if you came over here I could give you a little kiss."

So I approached her, but I wasn't totally sure what to do – in her wheelchair she was too far to bend down and kiss, so I half attempted to sit on her lap or something before kneeling down next to her. I started to go in slowly, and her head tilted to meet mine, but as she shifted her weight the chair swiveled and for lack of a better phrase, we missed.

"Here," she said, clamping down the wheel-lock, "Let's try this again." Although it wasn't the most ideal start, I'll admit I did have butterflies as I leaned in to her lips. The kiss started off great, very slow at first and lots of sticky kiss sounds that turned me on. I ran my hands across her beautiful face and through her blonde hair, and she put her hand on my cheek and started to lightly caress. But it was like she had sandpaper in her hand, and my natural reaction was to jump back.

"Oh, sorry," she said. "Working the wheels on this thing makes my hands all callous-y. I'll be more gentle."

I smiled, and we started to kiss again, but I no longer had a good feeling about this. I was actually a bit surprised when she let me start lifting her shirt – I was half expecting her to deny me. I was getting a little more into it as my hands made their way up to her breasts. Her bra cups were silky and I delicately ran my hands over them. It was a very strange feeling to touch a smaller, unfamiliar pair of tits when you're used to much larger ones.

I started to unclasp her bra when she said, "Why don't you take me to the bedroom, you big stud."

The "big stud" comment seemed a little patronizing, but I went along with it. I lifted her from the chair and carried her up to the bedroom. I'd heard the term "dead weight" but never experienced it until I carried her – her upper body was nothing, but her rubbery awkward legs kept nearly throwing me off balance.

I laid her down on the bed and we kissed again. I moved my hands up her shirt again and finally got her bra off. I massaged her breasts as we kissed, fondling her tits and trying to pretend we were still in college - before the accident - when this would never have happened.

She then sighed a bit, stopped kissing me and said, "Why do guys never take our shirts off? I mean, we're here, you've got us, just take it off."

"Uh, OK." I said. Was she being bitchy? What the fuck? I took her shirt off and started sucking and licking her tits. She started making a phony-sounding purring noise. I was now dangerously close to being turned off – possibly for the rest of the night, so I thought fine: Blow job time. I rolled off of her and stood on the floor, removed my shirt and started taking off my pants.

"Ooh, yeah. Take it all off," she said. Again, it seemed kind of insincere. I hopped back up on the bed and positioned myself over her upper body, and moved my cock down toward her mouth. "Oh! Umm, Ok..." she said, as if this hadn't been part of the bargain.

Her hand wrapped around my cock to slow my assault on her mouth. I loved watching her big lips part as the head went in, but to my dismay that's about all that went in. She started pumping my cock with her hand and just sort of letting the head stay in her mouth. I wasn't even sure if she was licking me, so I said, "Lick me." I felt a little licking on the end of my shaft near the head – my most sensitive area, it felt really good - but then it stopped.

"Lick me again." Same thing, and then she stopped. Still just hand jacking. I thought I try to be a little more complimentary about it and said, "Yeah, that feels really good. Don't stop licking me." She did the licking thing for about 10-15 seconds or so, then started with the fake sounding purring. She took my dick out of her mouth and said, "oh, yeah, Eddie, fuck me."

At this point I was thinking all things considered, I'd just take the blowjob. But if she wasn't going to do it right, I'd just fuck her. So I slid down her body and started kissing her on the way down, but she turned her head a little and said, "yeah, fuck me." So I moved down to her tits and licked them a little bit, but she let out a little giggle and pushed my shoulders down, saying, "I can't wait for you to fuck me." I can't tell you how insincere she sounded.

I got off the bed and stood on the floor. Knowing she couldn't open her legs for me, I took them by the knees and swung them open. I should have grabbed her ankles instead because as I lifted her left leg across my waist her foot hit me in the head.

"Ooh, careful down there!" she said.

I positioned myself in front of her and guided my cock into her pussy. I don't know why I thought it would be tighter, but it wasn't. I started fucking her, again looking at her face and pretending this was about nine years ago. She said "Yeah, Eddie. Come on. Fuck me hard" in such a pathetic way that not only could I not pretend I was somewhere else, but I started to lose interest, as in, my hard-on started getting soft.

I kept pumping away and trying to think of something else, but it was no use. I was losing it. She must have known it too because she kept saying things like "oh, yeah, do it. Make yourself come." And I mean she *said* it - not exclaimed it, not cried it out.

There was only one thing to do – I was going to take this total bitch's ass. I started getting hard again thinking about it, and grabbing her legs by the ankles this time I quickly rolled her over. I licked my finger and slid it up her cheeks to find her asshole when she cried out (and I mean screamed) "Oh No! Don't do that - rectal surgery – you can't!"

I may have entertained the notion of doing it anyway until I saw where my finger ended up – there were not only fresh, elevated pink scars all around her sphincter, but there were crisscrossed older scars all around those. I'd heard that some paraplegics had problems down there, but Goddamn, I had no idea. So I rolled her back over.

Deb took one look at my now flaccid penis and said, "Oooh, someone looks sad. Should we just wait a bit?"

"I don't know," I said. "Maybe you could try to revive it with that amazing tongue-work of yours."

"Mmm, I don't think so, I mean now that it's been, you know, down there."

I looked at her, frustrated. I didn't have any ideas left.

"Why don't you come sit over here, by me," she said, patting the bed next to her. I reluctantly did. She took my cock in her calloused hand, and started stroking it. "Why don't you think about what Lana and Tom are doing right now?"

"What?" I said.

"That's all right. She told me you wanted to hear all the details. Just relax now. I imagine Tom's probably got his face buried in her boobs – they're so big and beautiful aren't they? Mmmm, yeah. And she's got his cock in her hand, studying it, getting it ready to put inside her. She's probably very excited, you should be happy for her - Tom's a little bigger than you are."

"Ungh." I groaned. My cock was suddenly getting hard again. And as she spoke it got harder and harder.

"Yeah," she continued, "and then he puts his hands on the folds of her pussy. She's all wet, and he's rubbing his fingers slowly up and down her silky clit." I was transfixed with her words. Her talk was really exciting me. "She touches his hand down there, and together they guide his cock up inside her. Your wife pushes her gorgeous tits into him and totally submits, pulling him closer and closer. Their tongues meet and dance around together. Tom tenses up just as he gets ready to..."

And that's when I blasted my jets. Thick ropes of come flew all over the place. It landed on my chest, neck, even up by my eye. It was "a great performance," as Lana would've said, back when she used to let me come on her tits. But it was a very awkward feeling to be sitting there, post-orgasm, naked and covered in warm come, next to some woman I couldn't even stand.

"Wow, good job," said Deb. There was a minimal amount of come on her hand and she wiped it on my leg hair. "Well, I'm going to go jump in the shower." And with that, she hoisted herself down onto the floor and shuffled off to our guest bathroom. "Can you grab my wheelchair when you get a chance?" she said, shutting the door.

"Yeah. OK." I sat there, still with my own come all over me, for maybe ten minutes without moving. Finally I got up, cleaned myself off, got dressed and went downstairs to get the wheelchair.

When I came back upstairs, Deb was crawling out of the bathroom and thanked me as she got into the wheelchair. "So what are the sleeping arrangements?" she asked.

"Uh, I guess my bedroom."

I had just assumed we would sleep in the same bed together, but apparently she had thought differently. She said, "Oh, OK."

We fell asleep watching TV, without talking. I woke up horny once during the night and tried to get her in position to fuck, but she was so uncooperative and hard to move that I gave up. She woke me up at 6am, already in her wheelchair, to ask me to help her get it downstairs.

"You're getting up already?" I asked.

"Yes, I have to get going."

"Where?"

"Silly! I have wheelchair tennis on Saturday mornings." So I helped her get downstairs, made her some coffee, then saw her out the door and went back to bed.

I couldn't get back to sleep. I kept thinking about Lana and what happened and when she was coming home. I tossed and turned for another two hours when the doorbell rang. I jumped up and ran downstairs, eager and yet afraid at the same time to hear about Lana's evening.

It was Whitney with the kids. I told them mommy was out running errands and to go watch TV. It was a good 4 hours or so before she finally came home.

So you see, it wasn't the greatest night ever, but I got laid so it's not like I got cuckolded.