Note: From the files of Cleo: #305-2014
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I'm a 29 year-old woman, married for eight years. After years of living with my guilt I've now been in counseling for almost a year, and I hope the healing process is working. I know readers will condemn me for what I am about to write here, but that's okay. Maybe I need that as part of the healing process. I won't try to sugar-coat this or spare myself in any way for my actions. They are despicable and reprehensible in every respect. I am not a great writer so I am having help in writing this. What hurts the most is my having to re-live every detail all over again. Here goes.
I've always wanted to be a nurse. In high school I worked as a "candy-striper" at a local hospital, and then went to school to become a nurse. It was there after my second year that I met my husband whom I'll call Rick. Rick is a doctor. He mostly travels all over the world for weeks at a time, holding seminars and giving instruction on a new device he's perfected. He is well-known in most of the hospitals so I won't name the city we live - or the device - for that might identify him. Like his dad who worked in construction before a debilitating illness, he makes a lot of money and we live comfortably.
Four years ago my father-in-law, a heavy drinker at the time, suffered a head injury that causes him to lapse into a coma-like condition for days at a time, with no warning. Otherwise, he is normal and relatively healthy. He was a widower and his life-style of drinking and a constant bevy of young women hanging around didn't set well with either Rick or me. The illness was instrumental in him selling his business and retiring, which resulted in him being greatly depressed and made us fearful for his well-being. At first, he paid an attendant to take care of him while he was suffering from an attack, but he is a difficult patient - read that as "over-sexed" - and after firing a dozen young nurses, it was difficult to find replacements. Rick suggested that his dad, whom I'll call Cal, live with us and that I quit my job at the hospital and take care of him full-time. We have a large house and while I argued at first, over-all, it seemed the best solution.
Cal is a big, rough man with minimal education who is what most folks would call a "self-made" man. He didn't get there by being timid and I've heard stories of his ruthless business dealings for years. My husband Rick is about five-eleven, one hundred eighty pounds. Cal is six-foot-four, two-fifty, so all of us knew taking care of him wouldn't be easy. The three of us sit down and discussed it, Cal promising to be a "lamb" and do exactly what I told him. Rick took him aside and emphasized that any undue "touching" would be grounds for the agreement to terminate. I finally agreed to try the arrangement for a few months with the option I could stop at any time I wanted to. Cal kept his word and things seemed to be working out.
To those who don't know, coma is a state of unconsciousness where the person is not responsive. The doctors said it was a result of brain trauma due to the injury he suffered, exasperated by excessive alcohol abuse and low sugar. I've discovered that while comas can be permanent, they often last only a few weeks. We had high hopes that Cal's condition would eventually turn around. The first few weeks were encouraging.
The first time Cal had an episode, it was total disaster. I found him, unresponsive, sitting in a chair in his room. He had soiled himself. While not new to such things because of my nursing experience, I still had to hire off-duty medics to assist me getting him into bed and cleaning him up, because he was just too heavy to move. Since then I've come to recognize his approaching episodes and take steps to be proactive. When I saw he was becoming depressed, a precursor to an attack, I would strictly control his diet, get him to thoroughly shower, and guide him to bed. Since his comas only lasted for one or two days, that helped with having to move him later, plus solved the incontinence problem. To be honest, he was a much bigger problem when awake then in a coma. At least I didn't have to bathe him then. As for his promise, Cal was the perfect gentleman.
Now, for my problem. I am a highly sexual person and Rick isn't. Our sex-life was not all that great. His being away so much didn't improve the situation either. Rick knew this and he bought me a "toy" to help out while he was gone, but it wasn't the same. Then Cal's episodes increased in length, the comas lasting longer, three to five days. I administered his drugs and hooked up his IV each time and bathed him. The first time I decided to bathe him was really no big deal. After all, I was a nurse. I discretely covered his genitals with a small towel, got a warm soapy pan of water and a wash cloth. I washed his craggy face, his chest and arm-pits, feet and legs, and then started washing under the towel, jerking my hand back as though burned.
What I had touched shocked me! Suddenly, my heart was pounding a mile a minute, my hands shaking as I stared down at the towel. Nobody's soft penis could possibly be that large. It'd felt like an arm! Okay, I hadn't had sex in a week and the last time I did was totally unsatisfactory, but that doesn't excuse what happened next. I watched my trembling hand snaking out toward the towel as though it were a stranger's, grasping it and slowly pulling it away. I'd bathed a lot of men and women as a nurse, but I'd never seen something like that!
After I started my therapy, Cleo would tell me many women have "big cock" fascinations, but that had never been me. I'd had four sex partners before marrying Rick and as far as I knew, their penises could've been cut from the same cookie-cutter. In fact, I'd only glimpsed a couple cocks before Rick, all about the same. Most of the young guys only wanted to hop on, pop a nut, and go get a burger and a beer. I also had only given oral sex once before Rick, and nearly gagging when the guy flooded my mouth. I thought I'd be sick. Even my vibrator was average sized. This thing of Cal's though, was gigantic! Like a huge soft snake lying across Cal's thigh, thick blue veins crisscrossing it. I realized my mouth was dry as I just stared at it for a long time, before I saw my rebellious hand reach out and touch it.
It felt like a huge piece of velvet, warm and soft. It was the first uncircumcised cock I'd ever seen too. Must be the age difference, most guys probably have it done now. Rick did. Cotton filling my mouth I lifted its heft, watched it bend in the middle, draping over my small hand. I slowly moved my hand down, pulling the foreskin back to reveal a large spongy helmet, covering it again, and then exposing it again. My heart was going a mile a minute, pounding like a jack-hammer inside my chest. Then, I felt the cock surge a little in my hand.
Horrified, I looked at Cal's face. His eyes were closed and he hadn't moved. It was plain to see he was still inside his coma, but unaccountably, his cock was filling with blood! I felt it stiffening in my hand! Staring at his face, I worked my hand slowly up and down the horse-sized cock as it grew more ridged. I felt as if my heart would explode from my chest! Convinced he was out of it, I looked back at his cock and saw it was nearly twice as large as it had been while soft. I cupped his large hairy nuts and kept stroking it, slowly pulling the foreskin back and forth over the huge crown. I did this for about twenty minutes until it began noticeably throbbing. My fingers found my wet vagina and I almost came just touching the lips. He suddenly shot a stream of semen two feet in the air, some of it landing in my hair.