The Last Valentine

Authors Note - [

This is my entry into the 2025 Valentine's contest, and I would really appreciate your vote if you like the story. All characters are fictitious and over 18.

I know this is wholly unbelievable and not for everyone, but it was fun to write and explore

]

The problem with prostate cancer—or at least one of them, for there are many—is that despite amazing medical advances, the cure is as bad or worse than the disease itself. I found that out the hard way. Pardon my anti-pun there. Sure, the doctors had saved me with multiple surgeries and rounds of chemo and radiotherapy, but the price I'd paid was steep—the price Maggie paid was probably steeper. I was going to live—at least for now—but the surgery had taken away any chance of an erection again. At least a natural one.

Sure, they fitted me with a prosthetic penis. However, after all the complications, I was left with a slender four-inch prosthetic. The kind you have to pump up like a beach ball. It was less than half the length and girth of my former self. At first, things between us were fine, but I knew Maggie wasn't satisfied. She probably barely felt me going in. I also couldn't cum. I mean, I got some of the feeling, but nothing ever came out. This for her was a huge part of our intimacy, feeling my seed spill in and onto her.

Of course, she said we could do "other things," and we did. She also told me that sex was not the be-all and end-all of life, and she could live without it. I knew that wasn't true. I truly did my best, but something was still missing. I couldn't help feeling like I'd ruined her life despite all the fortune we'd had between us.

The one true blessing was that we'd had kids by then—two daughters, both in college—but something within us withered away. I guess that's what you get when you're in your forties before you get your shit together enough to get married—much less have kids. Maggie had made a man out of me, but I'd always be fifteen years older than her, and with women on average outliving men, she was likely doubly doomed to a long life without me, even without the dreaded cancer.

Eventually, despite our best efforts, our sex life had fizzled out. Maggie said she was fine and didn't need it, but the stash of vibrators and other toys she thought she was keeping secret from me said otherwise. I told her to go get a lover and find someone else to get her physical release. As long as she didn't leave me for him. She wouldn't hear of it. It didn't seem like she resented me, but something was definitely missing from our lives, and there was no obvious way to get it back.

So I knew I had to take matters into my own hands, so to speak. It started ten years ago on Valentine's Day. I remember it as clearly as if it were yesterday. She'd always loved the shows in Vegas, and we hadn't been since I got sick. I booked a suite at the Aria, going all out. No expense spared. She'd always loved Cirque du Soleil, so I booked box seats for Mystere, followed the next night by the front row at Carlos Santana. It was perfect, though we didn't have

sex

sex Getting away from home was the perfect thing to remind us of our love for each other. We touched, we kissed, we laughed, and we drank wine. It was the perfect prelude to what I had planned.

The next day was a Sunday, and I'd planned to drive home on the Monday to avoid the crazy weekend traffic. Friday through Sunday was always more than enough for both of us in such a crazy city.

"I have one more thing for you," I said as we slowly arose from our perfect slumber on that massive bed.

"No, you don't; you can't. You've done too much," she protested, but I shushed her and handed her her morning coffee. This was my pièce de résistance, what we'd really come here for. The rest was subterfuge.

That morning, she badgered me about what the last thing was, but I remained tight-lipped, feeding her champagne from the fancy flutes I'd had them leave in the room. By late afternoon, I sent her off to shower, taking the opportunity to cover the bed with red roses and place a single chocolate for each of us on a small plate. We had one more bottle of Champagne, but I wanted to wait for her before opening it.

"Oh, David," she whispered as she exited the bathroom. "It looks lovely; thank you." I popped the Champagne open, handing her a glass and one chocolate.

"To us," I said, and we sipped and ate the chocolates, both thinking we knew what came next, but only I knew the truth.

I slowly lay her down on the bed, drawing her gown down off her shoulders, revealing her still-pert B-cup breasts.

"David," she breathed. "It's been so long."

"I know, my dear, shush," I said and kissed her gently. She reached for my pajama bottoms, but I pushed her away and traced my tongue down her smooth skin and over her sensitive nipples. Then I took the blindfold from my robe pocket. She was surprised at first but acquiesced, allowing me to cover her eyes as I lay her face down on the bed.

Then came the knock on the door. Right on time.

She tried to jerk herself up from the bed. "Oh, did you order us room service?" She asked in shock. Well,

sort of

.

"Shhhhh," I said, pushing her down to the bed again. "I'll go get rid of them." I opened the door, and he was perfect. Mid-twenties, taller than me and buffer than I'd been in my prime. I motioned for him to keep quiet and ushered him in. He took no time at all, stripping down to a small pair of shorts, his manicured pecs and six-pack bulging in the soft light of the pre-evening sun.

"Come back to me, David," she called from the bed.

I called out, "coming," but instead, I gestured for our guest to take the lead. He looked hesitant, but a gentle push on the shoulder and he was on the bed on his knees. How long until she noticed the difference between my and his touch?

Not long, it turned out.

"David? David?" She called out from under the blindfold, "Is that you? What's going on?" Then I cradled her head in my arms while he gently massaged her calves and thighs.

At first, she made a half-hearted attempt to resist, but I knew what she wanted, and she knew too. She slowly relaxed back into it. I wonder, looking back, if she thought it was simply an erotic massage or if more was going to happen. I like to think the latter, but it doesn't matter at this point.

Our guest had brought massage oil and made great use of it, working out the kinks in her shoulders and back as he mounted her butt (shorts still on). She ooohd and ahhhhd in all the right ways as he worked down her body, paying great attention to her splendid ass.

"Oh, David," she said. "This is fantastic. Thank you for being so thoughtful, but don't you want a massage, too?"

"Relax and enjoy," I replied. "This is for you."

After massaging her head and neck, he took her by the shoulder and gently turned her onto her back. I saw her tense up and reached out to soothe her—to let her know it was OK.

"L-Let me cover up; get a towel at least," she said. "No one wants to see this old body of mine."

I took her hands and put them back to her sides. "You're perfect." I kissed her deeply, feeling her settle back and enjoy his ministrations. He started at her feet this time—good choice. She loved a good foot rub. Then he worked his way up, avoiding her most private areas, gently massaging her stomach, before reaching her breasts and nipples. She took in a breath as he touched first her left, then her right breast, but this time she didn't resist.

All the while, I was reassuring her, leaning in to kiss her, running my hands softly over her skin. I could see her buck her crotch up toward his touch, no longer caring that it wasn't me.

He took the hint, running his hands down her sides and then over her smooth mons. She'd shaved herself bare for the trip—something she hadn't done in years. Maybe she was hoping we'd get some intimacy back after all that time that had passed.

Maggie jerked as his hand reached down to cup her smooth sex, but I kissed her again and massaged her breasts, calming her down. Our guest moved ever lower, his tongue leaving a trail of kisses down her body. Then he got to her warm center.

"David." This time, it felt more like a plea. I silenced her with a kiss, and she relaxed in acceptance as he ran his flat tongue up her smooth pussy lips and over her clit.

"Oh, god," she gasped as he went to work, worshipping her. I'd wondered about this day for months now. I knew it was the right thing for her. That she needed the physical relationship I could no longer offer her.

I'd been worried I'd freak out; that jealousy would overrun me, and I'd run screaming from the room. Or worse. However, it was none of that. I experienced a deep, overwhelming love for this woman I'd given my life to. Who had given me—us—two beautiful daughters and who had been with me through thick and thin, including five long years of cancer treatment. I wanted her to have everything. However, that didn't mean I had nothing left to give.

She was reaching for me, fumbling with my pants.

"Hang on," I said. "Give me a second."

I could sense her confusion, but the feelings emanating from her pussy were overwhelming, causing her to scrunch her hands into balls at her sides.

I went to my travel bag and got out my faithful pump. The only thing that had given us at least a semblance of a sex life these last few years.

There are a couple of kinds you can get. Mine was fully flaccid—almost nonexistent when not pumped. It only took a minute or two to get to my full (yet severely diminished) stature, but it was what I had.

I moved back over to the bed, where she was bucking and writhing under our guests' oral ministrations. She ground herself into him, and he had two fingers fully inside her, his mouth glued to her sex.

I reached down for her, my diminutive length protruding at a forty-five degree angle or thereabouts. Then, her hand settled on me, and I saw her truly relax. Though it was nothing like I used to have, I knew it was still her happy place, so familiar yet so strange. She stroked me up and down slowly. The surgery had left me with diminished feelings and damaged nerve endings. Her touch, though, was like magic, and though it shouldn't be physically possible, it felt like my erection grew harder and longer.

"Oh David, are you sure? You know you were and will always be enough for me."

"Never surer. I want you to have the world, my dear. I love you more than life itself. There is nothing on this earth I'd rather do."

Our guest looked up at me, his chin glistening with her juices, his muscled body rippling, covered with a sweet sheen of sweat. We all knew what was coming next.

Technically, I wasn't paying for his time, not sex—or so the agency had told me. The next step was inevitable. Probably had been from the start.

I looked up and nodded. Our guest lined himself up with her perfect pussy, using her juices to lubricate the bulbous head of his member. I'm not the best at judging size. Heck, this was the only erect penis I'd seen in life beyond my own, but he looked longer and more girthy than I'd ever been.

"Hold me," she said, reaching up for me. "Hold me while he does this."

I reached down, hugging and kissing her. From my position, I couldn't see him, but I could tell from the sharp intake of breath she made when he entered her.

"Oh god," she shivered, and I knew I'd made the right decision. "Oh yes, God, oh, that feels so amazing." Her face was flushed, her breathing growing more rapid as he plunged his length into her, one solid inch at a time. Then I felt him stop. He was bottomed out in my wife's pussy. The first penis other than mine she had taken in almost thirty years.

He pumped slowly in and out. Though I wasn't sure I wanted to, I couldn't help but stare, and I'm glad I did. The sight of his thick member splitting her lips excited me beyond belief. As he pumped, I reached down to gently rub her clit, and she sealed her lips around what remained of my manhood. As we made love on the bed, we united as one, grinding and thrusting together. It was love, not only sex although we didn't know this guy from anyone and would never become emotionally involved; the combination of us all though was definitely more than mere sex. Far more.

While the downside of my condition meant that I could no longer ejaculate, I had one distinct advantage. I could go as long as I wanted without losing my erection. My pumped-up sheath's ability to hold air was the only limiting factor. After a few minutes of feeling him inside her, she plopped me from her mouth and half-raised her head.

"I want him in my mouth. Is that OK? It's been a long time since I've had a cock in my mouth—sorry, honey," she said, aware that I could have taken offense. I chose not to. I nodded to our guest, who withdrew from her slick tunnel, his length covered in the combination of their juices.

He moved up to her head, and I reached down for one more toy in our bag. I got little feeling when I used the penis enlarger, and Maggie had always said she didn't much like the feel. It gave me more length and girth, though, and I figured it was worth a try in this new, erotic scenario. I donned it, feeling silly, and lubed the outside.

Our guest looked at me, and I gave him one more nod as we penetrated her from both ends. I buried my silicone-covered member deep inside her, his pole of flesh embedded in her mouth. I thought of her getting that first taste of their combined juices. If I'd had any semen in me at all, I'm sure I would have immediately spurted into her warm depths. As it was, I was able to carry on, easily matching his stamina. It was going to be a test of how long Maggie could endure this without feeling sore.

Watching her suck and lick him, taking him deep into her throat every few thrusts, was mesmerizing. I was right. This was exactly what she needed. She had been unwilling or unable to admit it before, fearing that it would damage or end our relationship. After maybe ten minutes, I could see from the look on our guest's face that he was getting ready.

"I-I'm close," he said. "Where do you want me to finish?" As usual in Vegas, it was ladies' choice, and I left it up to her.

"Can you go a second round after?" she asked, slowly wanking his heavy, swollen member. He affirmed he could, so she took him back in her mouth in one swoop.

"Then I want you to fuck my mouth like it's a pussy, fuck my throat, and cum in my mouth. Then after. I want you to cum in me; fill me up." Hearing these filthy words from my usually modest wife's mouth served only to spur me on. Our guest needed no second command, pumping back and forth into her mouth, driving his cock ever deeper.

Eventually, he pulled back.

"Get ready." She opened her mouth wide, eyes still concealed behind the blindfold. He tried to get back in her mouth, but it was too late. The first three spurts jetted out, covering her forehead and cheek, dripping down to her chin. I expected her to gag and complain, but she pulled him close, drawing his erupting cock deep into her throat, taking his cum right from the source into her mouth and deep inside her stomach.

I couldn't believe what was happening to me—to us. I should be ashamed of letting another man do this to my wife. Shouldn't I? At the very least, emasculated. Instead, I felt something inside me I hadn't felt since I'd gotten sick, maybe longer. My balls and something inside me were contracting, pulsing back and forth. Though I emitted no fluid—I was pumping a dry well—the feeling was of orgasm. The best I'd had in years. Maybe ever. I gasped and panted, my vision blurring as my insides pulsated and spasmed involuntarily. Maybe we should have done this

years before I ever got sick?

Then we were still, all of us entwined on the bed. Me still hard, my pumped-up shaft solid beneath me. My beautiful Maggie's face and hair were covered in another man's sperm. She reached up to gently lick the last remaining drops from his softening member. She'd never looked so beautiful.

I asked her if she wanted me to take the blindfold off so she could lay eyes on our guest, but she shook her head no. In all the years we did this, she never laid eyes on any of the guys. Not once ever.

We spent the next thirty minutes sipping strawberry-infused Champagne in comfortable silence, each touching and caressing the others. True to his word, he was ready to go again, his erection rising under her gentle but firm touch.

This time I didn't use the extender, but I did take her mouth as he ravished her pussy, eventually spilling what remained of his seed deep within her, Maggie shaking in orgasm as his seed jetted out into her warm depths. Of course, any chance of pregnancy was gone years ago. The agency said that all their members were regularly tested for all STDs, so I figured we were safe enough. After we finished, I thanked him, gave him his tip, and escorted him to the door. Then I came back to my beautiful wife, lying on the bed, his cum slowly dripping from my wife's smooth pussy.

Only then did she ask for the blindfold to be removed. Without uttering a word, she guided me to the bathroom, ran the water, added bubble bath and salts, and filled it to our shoulders. Once we lowered our bodies into the steaming water, she took her time worshipping me, massaging my hair, my shoulders, and my back. She rubbed her ever-so-soft legs and breasts against my slick skin, and she washed the smell and presence of the other guy from our bodies.

Only then did she speak.

"Are we OK? Are you OK?"

"I've never felt better," I replied. "Why didn't we try this years ago?"

Then she was in my arms, her slick body clinging tightly to me as she wept. At first I thought they were tears of sadness, but I looked deep into her eyes and realized they were tears of happiness. We'd found ourselves again. Yes, it was through a total stranger, many decades our—my—junior, but that didn't matter. We'd recovered what we had lost and then some.

We have repeated this each year for the past ten, always on Valentine's, always with the same guy. We never brought another woman in. That was never the point or the intention. From time to time, we brought in a third guy, making Maggie airtight as she bucked and writhed and screamed in pleasure. Another benefit of my diminutive length was that I could easily take her butt without hurting her, as one guest took her pussy, the other her mouth.

I was happy beyond belief. Over those ten occasions, we satisfied every fantasy we ever had between us, which was more than ironic given the sad state of my cock. I'd done more and crazier things without one than with. It wasn't just the sex though; these encounters re-invigorated our intimacy and made us closer throughout the year tiding us over until the next time.

The email arrived shortly after my annual checkup. It had been so long that it was a total shock. Physically, I felt fine, but inside I was not. It wasn't the usual aches and pains.

No

, I prayed;

no, it cannot be

. Yet it was.

"Please call your medical office as soon as possible." The email was terse, the black words stark against the flickering white background of my laptop's display. Shaking, I made the call. I hadn't told Maggie. Couldn't. They wouldn't discuss it over the phone, but both the medical assistant and I knew what it meant.

"It's spread." The doctor showed me some unintelligible smudge on a black-and-white image that only doctors can make any sense of.

"How bad?" I asked, and I saw the answer written on her face.

Bad

.

Regardless, they sent me for what felt like endless additional scans. Maybe they wanted to run up the bill, but I like to think they were looking for anything, any kind of hope. They found none. Gave me six months. After the euphoria of finding our intimacy again, it was a devastating blow, but we'd gotten ten years out of it. Ten wonderful years that I never thought we'd have. It was time to check out. We'd get one more Valentine's together; get to do this one last time.