I'm a middle-aged husband and father that has ended up in an unexpected phase of my life. My new occupation, one that I had never dreamed of, is caregiver for my disabled wife. She was injured in an auto crash, hit from behind at a stoplight. Fortunately, she was alone in the car, but she was taken to the hospital suffering from a major whiplash and back injuries. After going through all kinds of X-Rays, CAT Scans and MRIs, the doctors told us that she had what they called, "irreparable spinal damage." The specialists said that there was a possible operation that might help, but the odds of full restoration of bodily capabilities were extremely low. Further, there was always the chance that it could possibly further injure her. At this point, she had no feelings in her extremities: fingers, hands, legs and feet. My wife and I talked a number of times about what we should do. She kept saying that if she never regained the use of her arms and legs, she didn't want to live. I was scared of what the operation might do, perhaps even killing her or, at least, making her a "vegetable."
I talked to our children, relatives and friends about our problem. They were all very sympathetic to our situation, but also were about half-and-half for and against the operation. It was one of those "damned if you do and damned if you don't" decisions, but I finally had to agree with her. She was obviously doomed to a sad life either way. To me, it just made sense to go through the operation; it just might help her or it might kill her. Either way would be a blessing for her even though I was really torn up at the thought of losing her after a good life of marriage and raising our children, the youngest one just ready to graduate from college.
The operation went well and the four specialists who had all been involved were happy that she came through it and seemed to be healing well. She went into rehab where she was given a long program to try to regain her strength and capability. She did regain the use of her arms and hands, but, even though she had some feeling in her legs and feet, she couldn't stand by herself. When she came home in a wheel chair she was placed in a hospital bed that I had obtained and this became her permanent habitat. Thus, I became her fulltime caregiver.
I was able to get an early retirement from my job with a good enough pension that we didn't have to worry about money. My primary problem, however, was that I had never learned how to cook. My wife was a very good cook and I never considered that I would some day have to try to feed her. I was able to do with frozen meals and take-outs until I found an organization that I subscribed to that delivered hot meals five days a week. This was a great relief for me and things have gone well for the two of us for the last couple of years. My only other problem was my need for sexual outlet. We had always had a healthy and vigorous sex life, enjoying together the various forms of making love: orally, manually as well as loving to find new ways to fuck.
After she came home and had settled into her new lifestyle, we tried to have relations by my climbing onto her small bed, spreading her unusable legs and performing in the old fashioned missionary position. Although it would relieve my need for a short while, it just didn't satisfy all my pent up urges. I soon found that there were so many porn sites on the internet where I could see pictures and movies as well as read stories of so many odd ways to have sex, it became an obsession for me to spend hours in front of the monitor. Naturally, I would beat my meat each time I called up a new site and it became a game to see how long I could go before I shot my load. Then I made a game of seeing how soon I could regain my hard-on to begin jerking off again. This became my primary method of satisfying my sexual desires; not what I would really like, but it allowed me to temporarily rid myself of the urges we men have.
As I mentioned, the meal program I subscribed to delivered meals daily. They had a good number of workers to deliver the meals, some young kids, some my age and some even older. It didn't take long for me to recognize most of them and start making little conversations with them. A few of the young girls were cute and I enjoyed doing the "dirty old man" flirting with them. They would laugh and joke and then be on their way. One of the girls, actually a woman because she was married and had a family, became an object of some of my nighttime fantasies. Julie, as I learned her name, had a beautiful body, although she normally wore a full skirt and shirt or blouse. Whenever Julie delivered our meals, I would try to keep her from leaving too soon by talking with her. Really, my conversations were about little or nothing because what I was doing was eyeing her body, mentally undressing her and imagining what her breasts, hips and legs looked like under her clothes. Usually, by the time she would take her leave, I had a hard-on, which probably showed in my shorts or pants. I'm sure she had to notice my staring at her body even though I was talking with her. She never did anything to make me feel she noticed or that she resented my obvious fascination with her body.
