Head Injury

My name is Samantha Sanders.  My whole life changed when my husband Bill's head went through the windshield of our 1997 Lincoln Town Car.  It changed my whole perception of sex, marriage and myself, and led to a situation I could have never imagined myself being in, and doing things I couldn't tell to anyone but you.

For sixteen years Bill and I have had an OK marriage.  We liked doing things together, we've supported each other's successful careers, and we've tolerated each other's differing religious beliefs.  But one serious snag we've always had was sex.  Bill thought about it constantly.  Occasionally I caught him with magazines or looking at porn on the Internet.  I tried not to let that bother me, but he started asking for blow jobs almost every time we made love.  It's just not something I've ever wanted to do.  He'd asked for it since before we were married.

Now I'm a very attractive woman and have kept my body firm.  I've read many books on how to please your husband without stooping to animalistic behavior.  All of Bill's friends tell him frequently how lucky he is to have a woman like me.

Bill was good with his hands and had great control with his penis, and I too was very practiced with my hands and even did Keagel exercises to develop greater control with my vagina.  Bill never complained about our sex, but really wouldn't let the oral sex issue rest.

Then came a period of several months where he didn't try to have sex with me at all.  He didn't even want to talk about it.  Finally, when I pressed the issue with him, I learned some things I wasn't really prepared to hear.  He usually begged for oral sex by saying he wanted to know what it was like.  This time he said something about how he knew it felt better than anything else, and that everyone else does it.

I realized he'd had it from another woman, recently, and perhaps more than once.  Was it a coworker, a friend of mine, a hooker?  I flew off the handle.  I threw things at him.  I tried to hit him.  As he fled from me, he shouted back things like "if you really loved me you'd be happy to do that for me!" It only made me angrier.  I told him I didn't want to see him again and that I wanted a divorce.

Bill jumped into the Lincoln and peeled out of the driveway.  I was so furious.  After all the years of being a good, supportive wife, he shows his appreciation by chasing after some perverted fantasy?  He'd been lying to me?  He'd been doing unspeakable things with some other woman!  And where might he be off to now?  To see HER!

I lost my head.  I jumped into my Jaguar and took off in pursuit.  Bill wasn't driving that fast and I quickly caught up with him, pulling up beside him and honking my horn for him to pull over.  He obviously didn't want to put up with me at the moment and accelerated ahead of me.  The traffic light immediately in front of us had turned red and Bill was still speeding up!  I didn't have the courage to blindly run the red light.  I stomped the brake pedal and my ABS brakes brought my car to a fast stop.

I don't know if Bill even saw the light as he tried to escape me, but the Lincoln smashed into a crossing commuter bus.  His bent car ricocheted of the swerving bus and flip-flopped across the intersection, landing upsidedown against a parked truck.

I feared Bill was dead.  Immediately all my anger was gone, and all I could think about was that my dear life partner was gone because of how poorly I had handled my anger.

But Bill hadn't died.  His seat belt was on and the multiple air bags in the Lincoln deployed as advertised.  Bill suffered a broken leg, a broken arm, and had struck his head at least twice on the interior of the car.  He was in a coma, but the doctors were optimistic.

I sat by Bill's bed for several days.  I thought long and hard about what I really was willing to do about his likely indiscretions.  I realized more than ever how precious Bill is to me.  I didn't want to lose him to death or divorce.  Now the comparison in my mind was, which is worse, death or fellatio?  I felt that if I had lost him, I would be glad to have had any part of him with me, even if it was his penis in my mouth.  I kept trying to rationalize my former loathing for the act.  But now I could only think of granting that wish for him.  How simple it would be to do it now!  Had I done it sooner, would he have looked for it elsewhere?

I also considered how this must have seemed from Bill's point of view.  His last words to me about "if I had loved him enough." I didn't understand it then, but now I could picture it.  Bill loved me.  And he loved my lips.  I could clearly imagine him wanting to see and feel my lips on his cock.  I'm sure his coworkers may have even argued about who's wife gave the best blow jobs.

"Please wake up, Honey!" I softly and sweetly coaxed.  "Darling, I want you to know I love you no matter what.  And when you wake up, I'm going to suck your dick so long, so passionately, and so deeply, that I won't stop until you beg me to."

"Oh, my dear God in heaven!" Came a muffled voice from elsewhere in the room.

My heart jump up into my throat.  I stood frozen, dumbfounded.  My lethal sense of pride and modesty had just rendered me shamed and panicked once again.  Quickly I cleared my head, swallowed my pride and regained my humility and asked, as articulately as possible, "I'm sorry, did you overhear me?"

There was another stall in the room.  I never thought someone was in it.  I never heard a peep from the other stall during all my previous visits.  I was so wrapped up in my thoughts for Bill.

"I hope I overheard you," the voice said.  "Could you please say it again?  But this time use the name Jack."

This would have upset me beyond description a week before, but the voice sounded somewhat like Bill's, and so painful and sincere, yet humorous.  I stepped toward the curtain of the next stall, again trying to be calm and unemotional, but I was stunned.  "I hope I didn't embarrass you, Jack."

"You didn't embarrass me, ma'am," Jack answered.  "You just said the words I've waited twenty years to hear my wife say."

Gosh, that struck close to home.  I slowly pulled the curtain aside to see a man of about 45 years.  Both of his arms and his head were in plaster and braces.

"Where is your wife?" I asked.

"She was here the day before yesterday when I came out of my coma, and then she had to leave for a business trip."

The parallels were striking.  I so much wanted to hear Bill's voice.  But Jack was a sort of substitute.  This stranger was longing for what Bill had been longing for, but of course I couldn't grant such a wish.

"Hi Jack," I said.  "I'm Samantha Sanders.  That's my husband, Bill, next to you."

"I can't turn my head to see you, Mrs. Sanders, and I hope I didn't offend you, but what I just heard you say made you the most beautiful woman I've ever known."

"Wow.  Thank you, Jack," I stammered, "but I really don't understand why you'd say that, and it does make me a little uncomfortable."

"I'm sorry," he said with sincerity.  "Just forget I'm over here."

"No, I won't forget it," I declared.  "I want you to explain to me why what I said means so much to you.  You can tell me."

"Mrs. Sanders," Jack sighed.  "I can't talk to you about this."

"You did just a second ago." I pressed.

There were several seconds of silence.  "I'm a lineman with the power company.  I was working on the wires about 20 feet up.  My partner got confused with the truck and we went up to work on the wrong set of wires.  I'm told I grabbed a hot line with my hands and was blown out of the bucket." He paused again.  "Severely burned my hands, fell face first and broke my arms, collar bone and head."

"I'm so sorry, Jack." I said.

"Well.  I've been here in the hospital for three weeks now.  They just moved me to this room today.  But the real problem is I can't use my hands.  A man's got needs, you know, and for three weeks those needs haven't been met.  And I'll probably be in this situation for another 3 weeks.  I don't know what you've been told about men, but a man has to unload every couple days one way or another."

"I'm sorry," I said.  "That's got to be very frustrating, I'm sure."

"Ma'am, it's driving me crazy.  What makes it worse is the nurses come in here and clean me up and I can't control my responses.  It's embarrassing, but I can't do a damn thing about it."

"Can't they give you some kind of medication for that?"

"Hell, I don't want some drug knocking my tools out of commission.  I'm sure if my erections or behavior gets to be a problem they'll put something in my pudding.  Earlier today I had to bite my lip to keep from asking the nurse just to touch it."

I glanced down the sheets and noticed a lengthy bulge standing up below his abdomen.  Jack had his arms and head in plaster, helpless to hide his uncontrollable arousal.  A wet stain marked the tip of his excited length.  I hadn't seen any man's penis but Bill's in almost twenty years.  A week earlier Jack's plight couldn't have affected me, but now I was feeling Jack's pain--partially because it was Bill's, too.

"Can't your wife help you, Jack?"

"Of course she can help me," he sorrowed.  "But she won't.  It's bad enough that she refuses to give me oral sex, but she doesn't really like to give me sex much at all.  I asked her yesterday to give me a hand here--if you know what I mean--but she said it would be very improper in a hospital."

I felt guilty, not for prying into his sex life or staring at his obvious organ, but because I knew I would have neglected Bill in just the same way.

"Why won't your wife give you oral sex, Jack?" I quietly asked.

"She just thinks it's disgusting and she doesn't care that it means so much to me.  It's a guy thing, I suppose, but I'm a guy.  And when I heard you say to your husband those beautiful words--"

I felt compassion.  I've never thought of another man sexually in any way.  But I felt this overwhelming desire to relieve Jack of his suffering.  And I was aware that I was not only very aroused myself, but actually eager to give release and pleasure where I used to give rejection.

I wanted to offer him my hand.  I was even reaching for his swollen cock.  But how could I go through with such an act with another man?  I stopped myself.  I whispered close to his bandaged face.  "Jack, I'm sorry, but I can't tell you what I told my husband."

"Ma'am," he pleaded.  "You don't have to mean it."

I took a deep breath.  What could it really hurt?  And imagine how much this could mean to Jack!  I licked my lips, thought about my desire to save my husband from the same frustration that was tormenting Jack.  "Jack," I said, speaking slowly.  "I am going to suck that big, stiff cock of yours so long, so passionately," I felt a spasm within my vagina.  My sex muscles and glands were going crazy, "that I won't stop even if you beg me to!" My hand made contact with his rigid appendage, my fingers wrapped around, clutching it firmly through the sheets.

"Oh God!" Jack whimpered.

Oh God was right!  His cock was substantially thicker than Bills, longer, too.  I wasn't the least bit ashamed.  I pulled my grip up his shaft, looking down at the mound in the sheets.  A fresh trickle of fluid oozed through the wet spot on the sheet.

"I'm so close, ma'am," Jack whimpered.  "It really wouldn't take much."

I pulled the sheet down, exposing him.  It was a beastly cock compared to what I was familiar with.  I placed both hands around his tool and started pumping them up and down.  I was about to tell him to relax and enjoy, but just as I was beginning to speak, his rod jerked and splattered my entire left arm with steaming semen.  The cock jolted again and again, blanketing his chest, stomach and neck with the backlog of sperm that had needed release for so long.  I stroked his testicles with one hand as I churned out the last few drops of his massive orgasm.

Jack panted and mumbled thanks to me as I collected a hand towel from beside the bed and proceeded to clean myself off first, then him.

"You may call me Samantha," I told him.

"Samantha," he cooed.  "So wonderful.  I really hope I haven't upset you in any way."

"Not at all, Jack." I assured.  "I was very glad to help.  But you must excuse me now.  I need to go back to my husband."

I returned to Bill's side.  He was still unconscious.  I put my arm around him and kissed his head several times.  I sat with him another hour before returning home.  To my surprise I didn't feel awkward about my favor to Jack.  When I returned home, I felt compelled to masturbate, all the while fantasizing about sucking Bill over and over.  But occasionally I also imagined sucking Jack's cannon-like erection.  My orgasm rocked me so hard I fell asleep without even getting up to wash my hands.

The next afternoon I returned to the hospital to be at Bill's side.  Bill was still unconscious.  The doctor told me in the hall that signs were still very good, but it might be a couple of days, yet.  I could hear a nurse in Jack's station with the curtain drawn, bathing him.  When the nurse left I stood beside the opening of his stall, not looking in.

"Knock, knock," I sang.

"Samantha!" He cheered.

"May I come in?" I asked.

"Only if you're not afraid of me now," he laughed.  "That was quite the introduction we had."

"I'll say!" I marveled.  "Very unlike me.  I thought about it a lot."

"I've had nothing to do BUT think about it!" He groaned.  As before, he was sporting a giant bulge, complete with a wet spot at the tip.

"Oh my.  Didn't I help you at all yesterday?" I asked.

"Hell, yes!" He replied.  "I heard words I never thought I'd hear, and you helped relieve a lot of the pressure down there."

"But it looks like you're still suffering!"

"Well, there was three weeks worth of pressure down there, and it doesn't all go at once." He declared.

I had agonized all day in my mind whether I'd allow myself to touch this man's penis again.  The first time was like a mission of mercy.  But a second time?  As I stared at the bulge in the sheets, I again felt that stirring warmth within me, that urge to nurse him in ways the hospital wouldn't provide.  Before had only been the touch of my hand.  The deliverance Jack really needed, my pennance, the rite of passage I must perform, did not involve hands.

"Jack," I began, ready to easily give in to his pleas, "is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?"

"Oh," Jack sighed.  "I can think of many, but what do I dare say?"

"What would make you the happiest?" I retorted.

Jack inhaled deeply.  "Samantha, it would be the greatest pleasure and honor of my life if I could feel your sweet lips where I felt your hand yesterday."

"What's your last name, Jack?" I asked.

"Kraus." He said.  "Jack Kraus."

"Well, Jack Kraus.  Today is your lucky day.  I am going to suck your cock until you come, because you deserve it, and because I myself am years overdue for giving a blow job."

What an irony!  My husband lay several feet away, injured because I had refused to do for him what I was about to do for a stranger.  Was this adultery?  I didn't think so.  My husband had gone elsewhere to find oral gratification, and he, like Jack, deserved to experience it.  I won't consider Bill an infidel.  Now I will be playing the heroine for Jack, giving him the release Bill found with another woman.  When this is all over, I'll be sucking Bill all he wants.

I slid the sheets down Jack's body, displaying his hefty stalk once again.  I wasn't sure exactly how to proceed, but I had seen a couple of adult videos in the past, read an article or two, and even had the act described to me by my sister.  I wasn't nervous.  I gently took Jack's pulsating cock in my hands and stood it upright.  The precum that had collected at the eye of his cockhead swelled and began trickling down his eurethra.  I pressed my tongue against the base of his erection, sliding upward, intercepting the descending fluid and pushing it back to the tip, which I slurped clean.

"Bless you," Jack moaned.

I savored his juice.  I noted that nothing about this act was offensive to me.  The sensation of his cock against my tongue, the taste, the contours, were all as I had expected--arousing.  I just couldn't comprehend why I was so repulsed by the notion of fellatio before.  I had the power to put to rest this ghost that's haunted him for so many years.

I dropped my mouth back over his rod once again.  It seemed even larger between my lips.  I sucked my way down until it pressed against the back of my mouth.  My right hand gripped the base of his shaft and pumped firmly as I began to slide my lips.  Jack flexed his thighs and rocked his hips in rhythm with me.  The fingertips of my left hand soothed his testicles, then pressed into his prostate.

"Oh, so nice," Jack exulted.  I kept plunging his broad cock into my throat.  I felt my gag reflex kick on occasion when his phallus struck deeply at certain angles, but not enough to even slow me down.  My jaw began to cramp from holding my mouth so wide open, but I was going to persist until I felt him erupt.

I worried my performance might be insufficient, being so inexperienced and unaccustomed to such a large penis.  As I continued fellating Jack, I imagined how much more I could accommodate Bill's penis, and how much he'd appreciate it.  With the excitement of that thought, I found the stamina to suck harder and faster.  My hands continued their assistance.

"Take cover, Samantha!" Jack warned, "I'm gonna cum!"

I briefly considered pulling his cock out of my mouth and pumping his come all over him, but Jack and I both deserved the full experience.  I had to test my limits.

"You're going to take it?" he gasped as his butt rose off the mattress.  "Oh, God bless you, Samantha!"

I felt him tense.  I bore down on him as a forceful spurt hit the back of my throat.  I gagged and felt viscous semen gush out of my nostrils.  I was alarmed, but not choking.  His cock kept surging, flooding my tongue and teeth with so much come that it rolled back out my mouth and down his balls.  I held him deep in my mouth, pumping him with my right hand for several seconds after his convulsions subsided.

Under his balls, my left hand was filled with sperm.  My right hand was coated, and the inside of my mouth as well.  I hadn't swallowed through the whole event, and decided not to at this point.  I drew my mouth off his softening penis and spit its contents into the convenient towel and once again cleaned the two of us.  I stroked Jack's chest a couple of times and said, "I hope you feel much better, Mr. Kraus."

"Thank you, Mrs. Sanders," he sighed.  "I certainly do."

The very next morning, Bill woke up.  He wasn't very coherent, but he sweetly acknowledged my presence beside him.  After work I hurried back to the Hospital to attend to him, to find him much more alert and conversational.

"How much do you remember, Bill?" I asked.

"I remember you were mad at me, and I was in my car." He fumbled.

"Yes, dear." I said.  "We had had a fight and you hit a bus while trying to get away from me and my temper."

"Oh," he said.  "I was told I'm going to be fine in a while.  How's the Lincoln?"

"We were able to save the spare tire." I jested.

"I'm so sorry, Honey."

"Listen, dear," I began.  "I've had lots of time to think, and I just want you to know I love you very much, and I don't think I've been very sensitive to you in sexual matters.  The thought of losing you made me realize how much I value every inch of you.  I want you to know that from now on anything you want to do in bed will be my pleasure to fulfill."

Bill was silent, maybe embarrassed, knowing he had a neighbor in the next stall who could hear everything.  "Super." Bill whispered, fatigued and puzzled.

Within a few minutes Bill was sleeping again.  I figured I would peek into Mr. Kraus's stall and wish him well.  Without announcing myself, I pulled the curtain aside and stepped in, finding myself face to face with another woman.

"Excuse me," she said.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry.  I didn't realize anyone was in here." I lied.

"Yes.  I'm Eve Kraus," she replied.  "And this is my husband, John Kraus." She gestured to the familiar half-mummy.

"How do you do?" I responded.  "I'm Samantha and in the next bed is my husband, Bill."

"Pleased to meet you, Samantha," Mrs. Kraus answered.

"Howdy, ma'am," came Jack's muffled reply.

"My husband tells me," Mrs. Kraus continued, "your husband had injuries very similar to his."

"Yes," I answered.  "And it's largely my own fault."

"Really?"

"Yes.  You see, one wish my dear Bill had throughout our entire relationship, which I always refused, was oral sex."

Mrs. Kraus looked horrified, but I continued.

"I was absolutely insensitive and even cruel.  I chased him out of the house, right into the path of a bus.  I could have lost Bill forever.  It made me think of how much he meant to me, and what a simple thing, even a privilege, it is to pleasure my husband any way he desires.  So now, I'm going to enjoy sucking his cock every day for the rest of my life."

I walked out of the stall, collected my purse and left the room.  I hope my unusual testimony would have some impact on Mrs. Kraus.  But I had done all I really could.

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