Eeping Her Happy

Kate Sheridan was twenty-four when they first met; William Halliday, forty-seven. She was a young nurse working at a sexual health erectile dysfunction clinic--a benign euphemism for impotence clinic--and he was a senior manager for a software company. William suffered from acute ED--erectile dysfunction--the result of a simple thump on the head sustained a few years earlier during an Adult Safe Hockey beer-league game. It had been considered a mild concussion, indeed, not thought to be serious, at all. But, while the head injury hadn't, at the time, seemed significant, it quickly became apparent that its ramifications were; in short, his normal sexual responses--physical sexual responses--simply ceased. They hadn't slowly faded away; they'd just stopped. He was eventually diagnosed with one of those generalized labels the medical profession uses when they are baffled: APED--Acute, Persistent Erectile Dysfunction--possibly, or let's face it, probably permanent; hence his presence at the clinic.

A medical curiosity, William was called back frequently for follow-up visits, and became somewhat of a familiar face at the clinic. Every once in a while, his neurologist would say he had read about a new procedure that had seen some success. William held out very little hope. He had been through so many different and varied treatments, and none had made any difference--none at all!

Kate was initially taken with how accepting and philosophical William was about his situation. She had seen many others with far less severe afflictions--far less serious sexual disabilities, wring their hands and wail pitifully about the loss of their manhood. Still, without much hope for himself, William participated just so he might contribute to future advances. Kate was impressed with his altruism.

Following several months of ultimately ineffective treatment, William's former wife had left him, less than a year after his accident, citing, as she euphemistically put it, irreconcilable differences. In a way, he could hardly blame her. She wanted what he could no longer provide.

While William and Kate had been all business in their interactions at the clinic, when they met serendipitously, one sunny weekend morning, at a small coffee shop in the university district in town, they were both enchanted by the ease with which they, right away, shared a smile and a laugh. They spent the rest of the morning and a lovely afternoon together, and as it came to a close, Kate gave William her phone number and asked him to call. He didn't--he couldn't believe it. Surely she was just humouring him--the old fart. However, when he hadn't contacted her in over a week, Kate got tired of waiting, and rang him up.

Their getting together again led to a few informal dates, which quickly led to dinners and movies and concerts--and necking in the car, making out like teenagers. William had to keep pinching himself, to confirm that it wasn't simply a very, very pleasant dream! "Why?" he asked, "are you wasting time with an old, impotent guy, old enough to be your father?"

Kate looked at him like he was stupid or something, then began patiently explaining. "It's not wasting time. I love it that you are smart, witty, friendly, pleasant, humble and modest." She paused, and eyed him, as if to ensure he was listening. "Humble and modest. And those are not the same. Humble is admitting to your shortcomings and what you can't do. Modest is not bragging about your talents, what you can do! Furthermore, you are adventurous, literate, thoughtful, with an appreciation of food and drink." Kate unexpectedly dropped her eyes. Her voice suddenly got soft and thick. "And I think I'm falling in love." Raising her gaze to meet his eyes, again, she added, "I wonder if you're not, too." Hence, as unlikely as it was, an honest-to-goodness May / September romance blossomed between them--Kate and William, just like the royals.

While Kathleen had always gone by Kate, William was Will only to family and a few very old, very close friends--never Bill or Billy. "William is so formal," Kate observed one day. "I think Willie suits you better." Cocking her head to one side, and batting her lashes at him, Kate asked, only partly in jest, "Do you mind me calling you Willie?"

"You can call me anything you want, Dear," William replied, giving her a loving squeeze, "Willie, Farty-face, Hey you; as long as you call me. LOL!" And as their relationship continued to flourish, William--Willie--just naturally, unconsciously, began calling her Katie.

As a testament to how strong their relationship was becoming, Katie would sometimes teasingly call him Wee Willie Winkie, even, occasionally, Wee Willie's Winkie. And later, in their most intimate, private moments, she'd call him just plain Winkie--but always with a twinkle in her eye and a tinkle in her voice. Likewise, she assured him that she loved him and his wenis, regardless of its stature. Of course, from anyone else such teasing would have been a declaration of war, but from Katie it was, he knew, an endearment--a cheeky little secret they shared.

As their dating got increasingly serious, Willie couldn't believe his good fortune--he really couldn't. Every morning, every evening, he'd shake his head in wonder, unable to wipe the goofy grin off his face. He fully expected it all to come crashing down around his head--and soon. Either that, or to simply wake up from the nicest dream; still, he was determined to enjoy sipping her, like a wonderfully sweet nectar, for as long as possible--to continue to sup greedily at her delicious honeypot of femininity.

Prior to his concussion, Willie had always figured he and his wife had had a pretty good sex life--two or three times a week. However, with Katie, it was all so very different; still tentative. He was--they were--moving very gingerly; so very, very slowly that it was like they were discovering--or rediscovering--intimacy, together.

Notwithstanding, soon, they were making love in earnest--their smooching becoming increasingly passionate till it could really only be described as sucking face. Both of them had let their hands wander to the others breasts; indeed, Willie had been delighted to discover Katie's were the perfect pair--pert and firm. It wasn't long before he was kissing and sucking. Nursing on her right tit, while he reached around her shoulders to fondle her left, he had dropped his right hand to snake itself into the front of her panties. At first just cupping her bush, Willie luxuriated in the feel of the soft curls, before he slowly began to run his fingers through, twirling and entwining them in the warm pubic garden. Subconsciously petting and caressing, Willie eventually let his fingertips part her genital hairdo and begin to stroke along her slit, tracing the steamy canyon of her labia, and dipping, every few strokes, into Katie's moistening pussy. Feeling a little braver with every sweep, Willie's thumb started gently circling her clit; so that, while he continued relentlessly gnawing and tweaking her nipples, his finger-fucking was carrying Katie steadily towards a state of critical arousal--in fact, once or twice over the following days and weeks, Katie even reached orgasm on his fingers--she actually came!

Taking her turns as she could, Katie licked and sucked and twiddled Willie's swollen nipples, ensuring equal time, right and left; dragging her kisses side to side across his chest, pulling her trailing tongue along with her puckered lips. Meanwhile, Katie's free hand held and stroked his mainly unresponsive dick, although, from time to time, it did get a wee bit chubby. Sometimes she took his flaccid penis into her mouth just to hold it there--warm and wet. Occasionally it would grow slightly longer, and marginally thicker. "Oh, for the old days," Willie would sometimes lament, silently, embarrassed by his infrequent descent into self-pity. Still, it always felt very nice. And, now and again, he might have even detected the phantom sensations of an erection--like feeling the presence of an amputated limb.

"And that," Willie thought to himself, "is how Katie and I make love--priceless love," as he would run the whole scenario through his mind's eye once more; as always, like a delightfully pleasant daydream.

The first time Willie actually went down on Katie was a surprise to both of them. It began slowly, with him trailing kisses into Katie's modest cleavage, while his fingers continued to play at her nipples, twiddling and pinching persistently. Willie twisted his head back and forth, relishing the feel of her tit-flesh against his cheeks; then, letting his tongue fall straight down, out of boob canyon, he let his exploration stop at her navel. With his tongue tickling her belly-button, Katie was surprised by a sudden incitement of arousal. "Stop! Don't! Ohhh!"

Mercifully, Willie continued his downward march, dropping his chin, and kissing around, about and all over his dearest's entire tummy. As he swept through top edge of Katie's bush, Willie suddenly withdrew his tongue, and, waggling his face side to side, brushed his cheeks with the silky-soft pubic patch.

After a short break, wallowing in the comfort of her warm fur, Willie's tongue once again poked back out, twisting and exploring to discover Katie's invitingly moist, puffy pussy lips. Pushing between them, Willie ran his tongue-tip up and down the blossoming furrow, until her vaginal opening dilated, virtually inviting him in.

Eventually, inevitably, on an upward stroke Willie's tongue touched Katie's clitoris. Her orgasm detonated almost instantly! Riding her climax out, Willie's extended tongue tried to stay in contact with her engorged clit. Katie mewled and moaned and gasped and whimpered and sang out, "Oh my god! Omigod! Omigodomigodomigod!"

Willie thought to himself that "...this is almost as good as achieving orgasm myself." Indeed, he became rather proficient at giving his best girl orgasms--intense orgasms, or so they thought at the time--all things being relative.

After almost a year of dating, tired of waiting for Willie to 'wake up', Katie finally took action. "For cryin' out loud, Willie--when are you going to ask me to marry you? I mean, the time to propose is way overdue--it's time to shit or get off the pot!" Speechless, Willie simply sputtered and stared. "Well?! You going to ask me, or what?"

Willie was hesitant. "It's not because I wouldn't love to be married to you," he assured her. "And not because of our age difference--which we're successfully working around. What concerns me is..., I just don't want to saddle you with a husband who is not a 'real', 'whole' man. Not in the reproductive sense, nor in the sexual sense."

"Oh, piffle," Katie replied, in obvious exasperation. "Don't be so bleeding silly. I wouldn't have brought it up if that were a worry, you dolt!"

"But, do you really know what you're getting yourself into?"

"Hah! Considering where we met, I think I, more than anyone, know what I'm getting into."

"What about children?"

"We can adopt, if it ever comes to that."

"Wha...?"

"Shhhhh!"

Willie continued to give Katie plenty of opportunity to change her mind, and she continued to pooh-pooh any suggestion that his disability was of any significance, in that regard.

So, they married, in small civil service.

Willie and Katie's love-making, initially, just continued as mainly kisses and nipple-play, finger-fucking and cunnilingus; but as they settled into married life, they began branch out--broaden their sexual repertoire. They continually looked at ways to extend and expand and pay more attention to their erogenous zones.

There was, perhaps, even a small hidden bonus in working with Willie's disability; and that was the fact that virtually all of his stimulation was conducted with either his tongue or his fingertips--hence, all of Katie's sexual excitement was finely tuned, without the coarse pounding of a rigid and unforgiving cock. Or at least that's what Willie told himself. But then...

Gradually, they started to investigate, together, different methods and forms of arousal: erotica, porn, lotions, locations, appliances, toys--all with varying degrees of success. Still, Willie increasingly felt the niggling, nagging need to give his wife something more--to provide, for his Katie, a taste of the whole enchilada. She needed, even if she didn't know it, to have the full meal deal--to experience, at least once, a bona fide hard-on, a real rigid cock--cumming in her! He knew she had had very little sexual experience, so he felt he owed it to her.

Willie and Katie had both been faithfully exclusive since the serendipity of that first meeting away from the clinic and out of their nurse / patient roles. Although very nearly so, Katie wasn't exactly a virgin. The one time she'd actually had sex--fornication, copulation, or whatever--actually been fucked, had been on a first date with an aggressive, obnoxious jock. While not exactly rape, she had definitely felt coerced. In retrospect, the fact that he wouldn't take 'no' for an answer, wouldn't accept that 'no' meant 'no', pretty much made it unequivocally rape. She simply shrugged as she related this to Willie, all those years later. "Anyway," she continued, "the whole experience had been painful, insensitive, and very unpleasant. It was not something I was in any hurry to repeat."

In sharing their sexual histories and secrets, Katie admitted that she had a vibrator which she used once in a blue moon. She wasn't sure where she'd got it from; maybe a novelty gift on her nineteenth birthday. She never ever considered that it was anywhere near what she might experience actually making love. Notwithstanding, she couldn't miss what she'd never had.

After having mulled it over for a long, long while, Willie finally brought up the idea again, on their third anniversary. "We've talked about this before--about you having missed out on the rigid cock experience--never having had a really, true, good fucking." Willie paused, holding Katie's eyes in a meaning-laden stare. "I'd like us... I need... no, I want us to give some serious thought to getting someone to join us in our love-making. Just the carnal stuff, mind--no emotional attachments."

Katie protested her love. "This is unnecessary. I love you. I don't need anybody to help me prove it, do I?"

"Consider it therapy--sex-therapy, if you will. With the objective of confirming our commitment, and possibly improving our quality of life"

"Aren't we already happy?"

"Of course we are! Very much so. Don't get me wrong; but there is always the possibility of bettering what we already have."

After a long pause, to digest all of that, Katie suddenly sat up, brightening up, and asked, "Who do you have in mind?"

"I am acquainted with possible recruits at the gym. I have been scoping out--very discreetly, volunteers for private sex-therapy. Participation would be as an objectified sex tool--no names; no conversation unless absolutely necessary; simply a virile aid to intercourse--referred to only as 'the cock'."

Willie and Katie discussed the proposal for weeks before finally agreeing to try it just once--at least once. And so it was that on Katie's twenty-eighth birthday--Willie was fifty--as, he joked, a kind of a birthday present, they invited another man into their marital bed, for the very first time. Willie thought he had chosen the successful candidate carefully; a gym rat named Rick.

"Think of him--or his equipment, at least--as a surrogate hard-on; my stand-up stand-in, if you will."

They were all, understandably, a little awkward and tongue-tied when Rick, the first 'cock', arrived. After welcoming him into their house and their master bedroom, Willie recapped the plan and the objective--sharing the penetrative sex experience. He went on to explain how he and Katie had anticipated it would proceed, emphasizing the therapeutic aspect of the exercise. But had things started to unravel before they'd even begun? Did Willie really detect subtle undercurrents of condescension? Was Katie's niggling discomfort due to Rick's leering assessment, or was she just over-reacting to his appreciative glances? Was their sex-therapy rationale really met with barely contained smirking, or were they just imagining it--first-time jitters? In any case, through an unspoken agreement they decided to soldier on.

Rick watched, appraisingly, as his hosts self-consciously removed their robes, to reveal their naked bodies, then he undressed with an almost arrogant slowness, as if he were the main event, while Willie helped his lovely young wife into position on the bed--supine, with pillows under her butt to raise her hips and present her pussy. With a liberal application of KY Jelly, 'the cock' knelt between her legs, raised her knees up and unceremoniously entered her, as Willie slid in from the side, on top of Katie, looking down on her with his back to 'the cock', who set about fucking Katie in a sort of semi-upright missionary position. All the while, Willie rained kisses over her face and chest, nibbling and twiddling her nipples, to contribute to her arousal--his mantra swirling around his brain, "Tongue and lips and fingertips." Katie felt definite stirrings--the pre-arming of a tentative climax, bubbling within her core.

While the literally cocksure 'cock' continued to pound her relentlessly, both Willie and Katie grew aware of his muttered remarks and innuendo; notwithstanding, Katie was surprised by the involuntary, autonomous carnal responses she felt--by the pleasure and arousal generated through repeated penetration. She gradually discovered she was unconsciously rocking her hips. Hanging on, with her arms around her husband's neck, she met each thrust with a sudden and energetic pelvic tilt, jamming her vagina fully onto his thrusting erection, while inadvertently heaving Willie's prone form up against 'the cock's' chest.

It was plain to see that that position was awkward. It interfered with the fucking, and with Willie's stimulation. Still, 'the cock' came with a yelp and a grunt and a stabbing thrust, carrying Katie just to the frustrating edge of her climax. When Willie, then, called for a pause, to re-evaluate, 'the cock' not only failed to comply with the no-conversation request, he was unnecessarily critical, making comments that were bordering on insults. Nonetheless, Willie and Katie, basically ignoring his remarks, agreed to try a different position.

Willie lay down on his back in the middle of the bed, and assisted Katie in arranging herself on her hands and knees, covering him. Hesitating for a moment, he stared up lovingly into her eyes. In this way, as 'the cock' entered her doggie-style, they could smooch and suck face; he, Willie, could nibble and maul her hanging boobs. Still basking in some degree of erotic arousal, Katie's response to 'the cock's' sudden penetration was still a little stilted--at first, anyway. But, soon enough, what with her husband's attention to her lips and tits, she started to rock on her hands and knees, initially allowing herself to be merely pushed and pulled by the thrusting at her butt. Gradually, however, her answering motion changed to counterpoint, ramming back to meet his strokes, pulling herself nearly clear of his tool. Eventually, she augmented that part of the dance by arching and bowing back--hunching and flaring her ass, assisting in the intensity and depth of the rhythmic insertions. Katie was beginning to suspect that the rubbing and prodding of the penetrating erection against her G-spot during doggie-style caused a level of stimulation that didn't occur in missionary position.

Willie felt Katie's kisses becoming increasingly passionate, and her breasts swell and firm, warming and suffusing with a pink glow, and was gratified to know, or presume, that he was contributing to her growing arousal. He eagerly shared Katie's pleasure and excitement, by basking in the heat and erotic energy she radiated.