Ellen Journals 03. Nursing Nick

I've written about my wife, Ellen, twice before (The Five Sketches, Fountains of Aphrodite), and though we are by no means "swingers," those two events in our lives were so intense and unusual that by writing about them I found that I could assimilate them and understand them better in the context of my marriage. I'm admittedly not a "writer" in the practiced sense of the word, but I have reported these incidents as honestly as I could.

Ellen is now in her early 50s, and she is as trim as she was when I married her. She works hard at looking her best, dresses expensively but not ostentatiously, and still turns heads wherever we go. She says she doesn't want other men and I believe her. We are, but for the two incidents I have reported, as monogamous and boring as most happy couples can be.

But she has this thing about her that, every few years, reminds me that her erotic sense is volcanic, and she cannot be predicted. I thought that I had lain my pen aside on these matters as we have matured, but it happened again and I feel the need again to put it into words and sort it out.

I have a friend whom I will call Nick, who has been my friend since I was a boy. We are very close, as close as friends can be who now live 800 miles away from one another. Nick moved before I began to court Ellen and she doesn't know him well, only meeting him on the few occasions of our vacations to Nick's part of the country.

Nick was involved in a car wreck recently and sustained a closed-head injury. This ended happily, but at the time no one knew if or when Nick would regain consciousness. It was a scary time for me, and I realized that, if Nick came through this, I would never let a year go by without seeing him. It shook me.

Ellen sensed this, and that very day that we got news of Nick's accident she suggested that we fly as closely as we could get to his northern Minnesota town, rent a car, and visit Nick in hospital. I made the arrangements and off we went. We were on the ground within 24 hours of his hospitalization.

The hospital was a shabby affair, at least compared to the megalopolis of the U-M hospital in Ann Arbor, where we live. But his care was good, the place was squeaky clean, and he was closely monitored. It was late evening and the place was pretty quiet. Nick looked, oddly enough, perfectly fine, as if he were only asleep. His head was bandaged, he had an IV tube, but was not catheterized because of his body did not tolerate the tube in his penis. The doctor told us that he had no other injuries, and though they were optimistic about his return to consciousness, they would not guarantee it. The swelling, he said, was receding, but there was just no way to tell when Nick would come back to us.

We sat beside him on two straightback chairs on the uncluttered side of his bed, me quietly watching Nick breathe, and Ellen quietly watching me with a sympathetic smile. The door to his room opened and in walked a mutual friend of Nick and mine, a fellow I'll call Sean that hides his real name but not his larger than life Irish manner.

"John!" he almost shouted in surprise when he saw me, holding out his arms for an embrace. I hugged him.

"Sean, I can't believe you're here, but, well, what the hell, it's good to see you." I backed up and reached an arm toward my wife. "You remember Ellen, don't you?" He hugged her, too, as if they had been long-lost buddies but in fact I had found out later that they had never met.

"It's a pleasure to see you, Ellen," he said, adding, "My god you're a lovely girl."

Ellen blushed and waved it away appreciatively. "We need another chair!" she observed.

Sean declined to sit and I remained standing. We talked of Nick, regretting his luck and hoping for the best, Ellen sitting demurely with ankles crossed on her chair.

She wore a dress that was Indian style, brown suede with blue tassels, for we were in Indian country and she enjoyed dressing the part. She even had her long black hair braided in the tribal style. Sean's enthusiasm was easy to understand. After a few minutes of increasingly sober talk, Sean left the room to buy a candy bar and I resumed my seat next to Ellen. We stared fondly and sadly at poor Nick.

He was a handsome guy, about our age and in good shape. He had his own cabin out here and liked to hunt, chop wood, and garden for what few crops the cold earth would give up in this clime. His most distinguishing feature, I suppose, was his long hair, since his hippy days, clean and blond and now shot with some grey. I leaned over the bed and put my face near to his.

"Nick, it's John." I had a catch in my throat and coughed. Ellen looked at me sadly. "Can you hear me? We're here with you. Me and Ellen. Sean, too." I took his hand in mine but there was nary a squeeze in return, no response at all. I sat back down and Ellen leaned over and kissed my cheek. I turned to her. "I wish there was something I could do to bring him around."

"I know honey," she whispered. "He'll come back. He's just hard to reach right now."

We sat and watched over our friend, and of a sudden I got panicky. "I don't want him to slip away," I said. "I have a feeling he's just drifting away..."

She took my hand in hers. I looked at her. "He needs to stay earthbound," I whispered.

A nurse came in and asked us to step outside while she washed him up, took his vital signs and all that. It took but a few minutes and there was no sign of Sean back from his candy run. We returned to our seats next to freshly-scrubbed Nick, and I sank myself in thinking about how to keep him with us, how to make him want to come back. I had a thought, but it was crazy and there were complications. I turned to Ellen.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing."

"Come on," she took my hand again. "Tell me." I turned my face away and shook my head. She sensed my thoughts.

"O my god," she whispered. "Are you thinking what I think your thinking?"

"Maybe," I said. "What do you think I'm thinking?"

"That you want me to, I don't know, use sex to... how did you say it? Keep him earthbound?" She sounded exasperated in a lighthearted sort of way.

"I just thought of it... I don't know... What do you think?" I asked.

She was quiet for the longest time, alternately looking at poor Nick and out the hospital window. I figured I went somewhere I should have not with my suggestion. It was not a good time for Sean to return, but he bounded through the door with a handful of sugary treats.

"Hershey bars? Snickers? Anybody?"

We both declined. Sean put the candy on the food tray on the other side of Nick's bed.

"I had lunch in the diner downstairs," he said. "Not bad food."

"Sean?" Ellen spoke.

"What's up?" Sean answered, unwrapping a Snickers. Ellen stood and shuffled over to face him.

"Would you do us a little favor? And not ask any questions?"

Sean looked puzzled. "Ummm... of course? What do you need?"

Ellen looked over at me and giggled. Actually giggled, then turned back to Sean. "Would you please go out, close the door, and..." she looked over at me questioningly, "stand guard for us? Like, alert us if someone tries to come in?" She giggled again. There was a pause while Sean considered.

"How come?" he asked warily. "What's going on?"

"Just trust us on this," I said. "Really. Just for a few minutes."

Sean shook his head. "Yeah. Sure. Why not? Just stand out in the hall with the door closed and tell you if someone's coming. Right?"

"Right," we said in unison.

Sean closed the door and we were alone, standing at Nick's bedside, wondering how to proceed. I wondered if Ellen was reconsidering this crazy idea that somehow didn't seem so crazy.

Ellen reached up and pulled the sheets, slowly and with great care, down to knee level. She brushed aside Nick's gown and saw that there was some absorbent material packed around his groin. She lifted it aside and placed it near the foot of the bed. She beheld Nick's very flaccid penis nestled into a tuft of greying-blond pubic hair. She looked up at me with a questioning look, but I had no answers for her.

"Why didn't you stand guard with Sean?" she whispered.

"I don't know."

"Yes you do." she smiled.

"OK. I wanted to watch."

"Do you have an erection?"

"I'm getting one," I admitted. "But Nick isn't."

Ellen frowned and looked back at Nick's shriveled little member. She reached out and gave it a loving little squeeze.

"We don't have much time," I reminded.

"OK, John. I know what you want to see," she smiled and leaned over the bed and kissed the tip of Nick's penis. I moved near to the foot of the bed to get a better angle. Ellen teased the head of Nick's cock with her tongue, all the while looking at me.

Nick's little cock began to stir, and as it rose, bit by little bit, Ellen took it all within her mouth, panting a little while her eyes remained locked on mine. My own erection was bursting hard, and I wondered to myself at the amazing eroticism and life-affirming soul this woman of mine possessed.

Soon, Nick's cock was too engorged for Ellen to take all of it within her mouth and she pulled her face back, revealing a full-fledged erection that would make any man (or woman) proud. Apparently Nick had one of those super-expandable models that was barely visible when flaccid, but quite proudly tall and fat when it was called to task.

Ellen stroked the wet length of Nick's cock with her hand then bent back over to take the head of his penis once more into the warm, wet refuge of her mouth. I moved back behind her to see her from behind, noting the Indian dress riding up just enough to show the the bottoms of her thighs. I tugged at my sweatpants and jockeys to free my own cock and stroked it to the rhythm of Ellen's bobbing head, my penis a few inches from her suede covered bottom.

It was all a bit too much for me and without a thought for our situation, I put my hand between Ellen's thighs and she startled, her head jerking up for air.

"What are you doing!?" she whispered loudly, turning her head to look behind her at my exposed cock swaying near her bottom.

"Keep sucking his cock." I ordered her, and to my surprise, she did! She spread her legs to give me better access to her ass which was now jutting out toward my cock, her back arched and her mouth once again busy.

I gathered her dress near the knees and lifted the suede curtain above her waist, then, with her charming and wiggling cooperation, drew down her panties (white and cotton, as always) to her knees. She pulled her mouth free and gasped aloud, swaying her now naked ass back and forth, begging for attention. I put my thumbs on either side of her bottom, close to her rosebud, and pulled her cheeks apart, exposing her completely. I wet my index finger and slowly inserted it into her asshole, she clenched her muscles and her ass grabbed at my finger.

She looked behind her, her face flushed, and whispered, "No! No time for that!" She stroked Nick's cock and he stirred in his deep sleep. She licked him, then took him back into her mouth.

I spread her cheeks again and carefully guided my cock into her pussy. Ellen moaned and I began to push and pull into the slow dance of fucking. I knew I was going to come very quickly because I was so overcome by the erotic charge of all of this. It was too much and I felt my own charge start to build.

And, yes, then the door opened.

Thankfully it was Sean, who entered breezily saying, "Nobody's coming, but what the hell is taking you too so..."

I remember how he broke off right at those words, turned and closed the door. Both Ellen and I were far too far gone in our throes to interrupt our coupling. As I was about to come, Ellen took her mouth off of Nick's cock and laid her head down on his chest, as I pumped semen into her belly in great spasms, holding onto her bare hips and thrusting hard while all this, apparently, being taken in by Sean, silently from near the doorway.

As my spasms subsided, still buried to the hilt in my wife's outthrust bottom, I steadied her hips and she drew calm.

"Honey," I whispered.

"I know," she breathed back at me. "Sean is here." She turned her head and looked right at him, Nick's still erect penis brushing her forehead.

Sean was flustered. "I'm sorry, I couldn't leave," he mumbled, and looked over at me. "How could anybody leave?"

"That's OK," she whispered, then looked back at me and gave me the most seductive smile. Sean drew closer. We looked at one another, then I turned attention back to my sweetheart's ass, once again prying her cheeks apart, exposing all to Sean, and slowly drew my wet and glistening penis from my wife pussy. The head popped out and I stood with my swaying cock, rubbing against her butthole. Together we watched my semen seep in a tiny stream from her entrance, and I released her ass cheeks, bent over, and kissed her back.

Slowly, she stood, but she held her dress up with her hands. She stood, exchanging glances with me and Sean (who looked poleaxed with confusion), her trimmed pussy leaking semen down her thigh, framed by the panties at her knees and her dress at her waist.

"I'm not done," she said to me, turned, and resumed her position, bent over Nick's drooping penis with outthrust nude bottom, thigh glistening. She took Nick in her mouth and we watched her bring his penis to throbbing life again. She licked and stroked his fat cock, turned back to catch Sean's eye and said, "Go ahead and masturbate. I know you must want to." Then turned back to her work.

Sean looked to me for permission and I shrugged my shoulders. He pulled his pants and underpants down and revealed an erect and modest cock, which he stroked while he gazed intently at my wife, dividing his attentions between her bottom on display a few feet from his own cock, and Ellen's oral display on Nick's member.

I was surprised, at my age, to see my own member swelling anew at this scene. While Sean gazed longingly at my wife's bottom, I reached over and spread her cheeks for his full appreciation. Ellen, with mouth full, moaned at this gesture and Sean breathed and stroked more enthusiastically as he beheld her treasures. I put my finger back in her ass, working the first joint in and out as she moaned and pushed against my finger.

Then we heard it. Nick moaning! He shook his head back and forth slowly, his moans louder. I pulled my finger from Ellen's ass and Sean and I watched as Nick convulsed, his semen shooting forth in a fountain into Ellen's open mouth, shooting again, and again as she drooled Nick's come onto the head of his cock, lustily jacking him with her fist, draining from him every drop of semen. There was so much!

When the cumming subsided, Ellen stood, turned to face us, sat back on the edge of the bed, and with spread legs worked her clitoris with two fingers looking at our exposed cocks and within a minute she was bucking in orgasm. What a sight this was I have not the talent to describe, nor to convey the effect this had on Sean and me. I did not see Sean shoot his seed, but I head him convulse with a moan, spraying the carpet and dripping cum down his enclosing fingers.

Ellen, looking completely disheveled, hair coming undone, cum stains on her dress, wiped her mouth with her hand taking away a drool of Nick's semen which she wiped on the bed. She sighed and put her head down, exhausted. I was proud of her as if she were a goddess sent to me for my care. Sean and I tidied up our exposed cocks, all zipped and proper, and I hugged Ellen, kissing the top of her head.

"He felt that, I think," she panted with a smile at me. We both agreed that indeed he must have, and so did we! We watched as Ellen collected herself enough to stumble to the bathroom where she remained for some time.

Sean was not comfortable with what happened, and though I tried to reassure him that this is OK and that, once in awhile my wife does something like this, he shook my hand, sent his regards to Ellen (whom he called "Alice," I remember), and in a flash he was gone. Ellen came out of the bathroom, eventually, and as I had tidied up as best as I could, we left the hospital (I took the Hershey bars) in a hurry for our hotel, never once molested by hospital staff. How lucky we were.

We visited the next day and not a word was said to us, though I thought I noticed a change in the vibe and a few strange looks. This could be my imagination, but I doubt it.

Nick recovered the day after we left, and left the hospital that same week. If he remembered anything about our visit he never said so, nor do I know if Sean ever filled Nick to the proceedings. We have a reservation at that same hotel in a few weeks, and I have vowed never to lose touch with Nick again. We have never heard from Sean.

As typical, Ellen never talks about this episode, and we have resumed our life as if nothing happened. And in a way, nothing did.

This is what Ellen is to me, a paradox of a beautiful, normal woman who has these flashes of eroticism that make her a goddess.