He was sleeping on his back when she came home. The first thing she did was take his sleeping semi-hard cock in her mouth and suck on it as lovingly as she used to. In his half-sleep, he couldn't open his eyes or look as she took his cum and swished it around in her mouth before swallowing.
"Oh, baby," he murmured in his dream, "oh, baby."
She crawled up and planted her tongue in his mouth in her own juicy way. This was the final straw, he'd gotten used to her habit of a deep soul-kiss after sucking him off, she always said that she wasn't giving up his cum, she was just letting him smell it on her lips. This awakened him and, as he tried to gathered her in his arms, she disappeared. He lay there for the rest of the night sobbing and missing her with all his soul. He figured that because he missed her so much he'd had a wet dream at her expense. He finally fell back to sleep, and thinking simply, "fuck it, I'll change sheets in the morning," thinking of the cum-stained sheets.
The next morning when he threw the covers back, he saw nothing visible and only the invisible smell of her perfume, an indefinably wonderful aroma, and a few smears of her facial cream on her pillow. It was her facial cream, his cum wouldn't have reminded him of her and cum would've pretty well dried out by now.
He laid out of work that day and stayed home to recuperate from the previous night and trimmed her rose bushes as he got bored with nothing to do. She loved her roses, but couldn't stand to have roses given to her as presents. So he trimmed the bushes and clipped a few of the biggest, showiest blossoms for the dining room table. She was gone after all, and, he thought, maybe it'd get her mad enough to come back tonight. She had always said that roses were a better choice for a dead person and that the bright yellow sunflowers were a better choice for someone recuperating or in the hospital. It suddenly dawned on him that with those thoughts in his head, he'd probably gone round the bend and gone nuts. Either way, she'd always said that sunflowers and not roses were the flowers of life. So she got sunflowers. Throughout each of her terms in the hospital and at home.
That night she did come back. He lay awake as long as he could, just waiting for her to show up but finally, fell asleep, with thoughts of how her warm body had snuggled against him when she was alive and well. She finally came in sometime in the tiny hours of the night. He drowsily felt her womanly body sinking into the mattress and rolling against his back. He was on his side and she snuggled up to him spoon fashion. She wrapped her arms around him and settled her face into the back of his neck, kissing gently; she'd just gotten off work and usually just wanted to sleep. With her arms around him, he finally got a good night's rest. She was with him and the world was really and truly right.
The next morning when he woke up, she was again gone, but he felt better than he had in months. He'd gotten a full night's rest and he was alert and wide awake as he left for work. His friends looked at him with surprise as he slipped his smock on and picked up the broom with not a single gripe. As a matter of fact he was whistling as he walked over and took the broom out of his colleague's hands, spinning her around in a quick waltz at the front of the Wal-Mart doors. The customers smiled broadly as they spotted the impromptu "Dancing With The Stars" in front of them.
"Mr. Poole!" Ms. Doris exclaimed giggling in spite of herself.
