Dying to Fuck Your Wife

**********

"What are you thinking about?" asked Tom. They were nearing their home.

"Just thinking about Calvin back in high school," she answered with a sigh. She'd never told Tom about their seven-minute make-out session. "He was so strong."

"Shame. He was our big track star and his legs..." Tom shook his head. He wasn't on the track team and never felt jealous of Calvin for being so good at track. "Well, you know what, despite the circumstances, it was nice seeing everyone."

"Yes, it was," she agreed. "There are other benefits too."

"Yeah, what's that?"

"Drinking makes me horny."

Tom sat up straight and hit the gas.

Twenty minutes later, she pushed down on his spent prick, keeping it plugging his seed inside her. She looked down at her husband. Drinking made her horny, but drinking in the afternoon always put him fast asleep. He'd fallen asleep seconds after cumming inside her.

But she was still horny.

**********

Two days later, Claire pulled down the drive to Calvin's house. It was a two-story colonial-style home with a two-car garage on a decent parcel of land. The home was surrounded by woods with a farm field nearby. Quiet and private just like Claire enjoyed. She and Tom had a nice house, but it was in a rich neighborhood with lots of neighbors and children.

Calvin had an intercom doorbell and told her to come on in. He was seated on the couch, cane across his knees watching the news. "Claire, I'm so happy you agreed to do this," he said, smiling at her.

"Oh, it's my pleasure. Happy to help."

"Can you help me up and we'll get going to the medical center?"

Claire bent over and put her arm around him, helping as he pushed himself to his feet.

The first day went quickly. She sat in the doctor's waiting room for nearly two hours. On the way home, Calvin had a shopping list for her. He waited in the car while she bought his supplies. Back at the house, she put his supplies away and made him a sandwich. Calvin's legs couldn't make it up the stairs and he'd moved into the downstairs guestroom. She washed his sheets and some of his clothes for him.

Her duty list was light, Calvin was funny, genuinely grateful for her, and pleasant to talk to. She left for the day happy she'd agreed to take the job.

The second day, the delivery man dropped off a large box for Calvin. It was a walker. "The day is coming when the cane won't be good enough," said Calvin. "Help me put it together?"

"Of course." She opened the box for him. Calvin wanted to do it but needed her help to hand her the parts. There were only a few parts so it wasn't much of a chore. Claire glanced up above Calvin's large flat-screen TV. He had a large poster-sized family portrait on the wall. It was probably from around fifteen years ago, Calvin looked the age he had in high school. There was another young black boy beside him, only ten or eleven, but taller than Calvin. His parents stood behind the two boys, the father tall, but the mother was short close to Calvin's height. His parents had died in a car accident some ten years ago. "I forgot you had a brother," she commented.

"Yeah, Clarence," he answered, tightening a screw. "That should do it." Calvin used his muscular arms to pull himself up and lean on the walker. He tested it, walking around. "Hate to say it, but this thing is easier than the cane." He walked towards the kitchen, wincing each time he took a step. "At least it's not a wheelchair."

"Want lunch?" She asked, and he nodded in response. She made them grilled cheese, adding some chips to their plates. After lunch, he wanted to play a video game with her. She cleaned up the cardboard and packaging from the walker as Calvin sat down on the couch and fired up the console.

She wasn't a gamer but caught on how to use the controller quickly enough. It was an NBA video game and he was quite skilled, crushing her. Just when she thought she had a chance of sinking a ball at one point, he stole it from her and dunked. "You stink," she said, looking at the score of 84-0.

"Sorry," he chuckled.

"No, I mean it. You stink." She leaned over, wrinkling her nose at him. "How long since you've had a bath?"

"More than a week?"

"Over a week!" Claire was a clean freak and was appalled.

Calvin turned the machine and the TV off. He looked over at her. "This is where it gets awkward," he said.

"What?"

"I need a shower."

"Yeah, you do."

Calvin smirked. "I need help getting a shower."

"OH!" Claire sat back, eyes opening wide in surprise. "I hadn't thought of that, but you do need a bath. Can I run the tub for you?"

Calvin shook his head. "The tub is upstairs and the stairs are too much for me and there's only a shower downstairs. I've had bars put in and can hold myself up, but I need someone to wash me."

"Could you wear a swimsuit or something?"

"Kind of defeats the purpose," he said. "But if it's too much..." Calvin shrugged.

Claire sat silently for a moment. She glanced back up at the Custis family portrait. "What about your brother? Does he live nearby?"

"An hour away, but he can't get away for another eight years. He's in prison."

"Oh...OH!" she said. "Sorry to hear that."

"Yeah, I miss him," said Calvin. "Nothing serious, but when a black man gets caught selling weed in this state, he gets a long sentence and now I'm having weed prescribed to me by a doctor. I call bull shit!" Calvin glanced up at the portrait. "He'd be here for me if he could."

"Alright," she sighed. "Looks like bathing you is now part of my job description. No big deal. We're both grownups so no joking around, okay?"

"I'll be as embarrassed as you," he replied, but couldn't hide his grin.

It would be a much bigger deal then Claire thought.

**********

"Ready," yelled Claire, testing how hot the water was. The shower was large, square, with a glass door. The bars were placed under the showerhead and against the back. There wasn't a washcloth, just a bottle of body wash.

Calvin entered the room from the adjoining bedroom. He had a towel tied around his waist. Claire stepped back from the entrance glancing at him, her eyes couldn't help sweeping down his bare chest. Calvin's upper torso looked sculpted from ebony. His chest had huge defined pecs, with a rippled six-pack beneath. His thin waste tapered out into a broad chest with bulging biceps. She forced her face to remain impassive despite how impressed she was. Tom was getting a paunch and she missed his younger hard body though it had never come close to Calvin's physique.

Calvin hobbled up to the shower and placed one hand on her shoulder for balance as he released his cane. She helped him in until his left hand could grab the bar. Water was striking his chest and running down soaking his towel. "Can you get the towel?"

"Of course," she replied, keeping her face impassive as she reached down for the knot around his waist. She might not even need to see his penis. It would probably be shrunken into his scrotum like her husband did when he was cold. She could look away when she washed his crotch. She held the knot, pulling the towel away. "JESUS!"

Calvin smirked, holding his head just out from the shower spray. "What's wrong?"

"I uh... wasn't expecting..." She couldn't take her eyes off Calvin's penis. It wasn't shrunken into his scrotum. It wasn't resting over his balls or dangling. It had sprung up out of the towel, sticking straight out, slightly bent down, the black head of his prick was bigger than a golf ball, the shaft ending at least a foot from the base of his crotch with the head another two inches around. "Your penis to be so..."

"Large?" he chuckled. "Why do you think they called me The Big C?

Her eyes were still glued to the little black man's huge penis. "Because... because your short and your name's Calvin."

"It's because I have a big cock. I preferred The BBC, but that was too much."

"BBC?"

"Big Black Cock." He laughed again. "Of course, no announcer was going to say, another touchdown by the big black cock or home run by the..." Calvin paused waiting.

"Big black cock," she muttered, still in disbelief at the bobbing monstrosity before her eyes.

"Exactly," he responded, his cocky smirk growing larger.

Calvin took another step, holding his head down under the water until he could lift it so that the shower struck his chest and he could place his hand on the other bar. Water was splashing on Claire's tank top now. "What now?"

"Body wash is down there. Just wash what you can."

Claire stooped down. The bottle of soap was near the bar under the shower and reaching for it put her eye level with the big black cock. She couldn't take her eyes off it. It was big. It was black. And cock seemed more appropriate for something so much bigger than Tom's penis. It looked obscenely large on such a short man and a man with such weak legs, but oddly natural sticking out from underneath his muscular torso. Her hand closed around the black bottle of soap, probably as big around as the big black cock, she guessed standing back up, finally forcing her eyes off it.

Claire squirted some lotion into her palm, leaning in, she began lathering up his back. She'd assumed a washcloth would have been in the shower and hadn't counted on her hand touching his skin. She'd never run her hands over such a hard-muscular back. It was as impressive as his front torso. She poured some more wash in her palm and moved down, his butt cheeks were as hard and firm as the rest of him. She wasn't about to run her hands down the crack between his cheeks. Claire squatted, more water splashing off his body onto her face and top. This is where her brow furrowed with concern. No doubt his emaciated legs had once been as powerful as the rest of his body. She lathered up the closest leg, also gently massaging it for him. There were still some muscles in his thigh and calves, but apparently, every step he took caused Calvin pain. He was fooling himself to think the walker was all he needed. He needed a wheelchair.

She leaned for the farther leg, eyes opening wide in surprise when she glanced between his legs. Calvin had a wide stance and his scrotum was hanging down between his legs. Not surprisingly, it was sized to go with the big black cock. Each testicle could have been a tennis ball shoved into a wrinkly black sock. There wasn't quite room for them both in the sack and one hung lower than the other. Tom's balls were the size of small walnuts and ejaculated maybe a teaspoon worth of runny semen which she found messy and disgusting. What kind of volume would these huge balls ejaculate?

"Let me turn around," said Calvin.

Claire had visions of being slapped by the big black cock when he turned, so she stood back up. She needn't have worried, Calvin struggled to turn, moving slowly. He was wincing in pain and concentration. The big C was still sticking out, slightly angled down. Finally, he turned his back on the spray. His hips were thrust out, his cock stabbing outward. Claire noticed his crotch was hairless either from falling out from the chemo or he shaved it and it made his cock look even longer.

She filled her palm with body wash again. He held his head down and she lathered up his scalp and the sides of his head. He raised his head, putting it under the spray and she took the opportunity to stare at his cock again while filling her palm with more wash. It was so big, looking more like it belonged on a horse than a short black man. Powerful veins crisscrossed the shaft keeping it pumped full of blood. She wondered if he was embarrassed about getting an erection while she bathed him. He raised his head back out of the spray and she quickly turned her attention away from his cock.

Claire's hand was overflowing with body wash, she'd been so distracted she just kept squeezing the bottle into her palm. She placed both hands on his chest, rubbing the lotion into a lather. Now she was just as fascinated with running her hands over his muscular chest as she was staring at his cock. She washed his arm muscles, squeezing the biceps that were taut from holding himself up. Something was fascinating about the contrast of her white hands on his black muscular chest. Her hand went lower over his abdominals and she needed more lotion.

She stared at his cock as she filled her hand again. "I'll just do around your crotch, okay?" She placed her hand back on his stomach, working up a lather as she moved down. His smooth pubic mound felt weird but was oddly sexy. Her palm rubbed down the sides of the root of his shaft, she stooped a little moving her hand down under. She hadn't meant to rub his balls, but she ended up washing them and feeling their weight in her palm. They were so big she could only hold one. Claire frowned, staring down at his big black cock. It was swelling and had straightened out.

"Can you give the shaft a good cleaning?" he asked, gasping for breath.

"I shouldn't," she responded, watching her hand wrap around the root, holding it.

"Just a lathering. It hasn't been washed in a while. The glans too."

Claire gulped. Without even thinking about it, her hand was gliding down the big black cock, squeezing and rubbing over the head. It expanded in her grip. Her hand slid back down to the root, feeling his pulse within the thick shaft of his black cock. "It's getting bigger!" she said, staring at it in shock. The shaft had now risen, his cock slightly bent up, a swollen fourteen inch rock-hard black cock. Her hand stroked back up to the head.

"Oh god," he sobbed. "I'm getting an erection."

"You weren't already hard?" She couldn't believe it.

"It's always like that when I haven't cum in a while." He sobbed again.

"What's wrong?" she asked, releasing his cock. It bobbed up and down.

"Claire look at me?" he asked. She was slightly stooped, but he still had to look up to meet her eyes. "I'm begging you, Claire. Please keep jerking off my cock."

"No way," she gasped. "I shouldn't have even cleaned it."

Calvin took a deep breath. "Claire. Normally I wouldn't ask this of you. I haven't had a real erection since my chemo started. I really need to get off. It's been too long and I don't know if I'll ever get another one."

"You do it," she said, not staring at him, but at the thick black cock still covered in lather.

Calvin shrugged, nodding his head towards both of his arms holding himself up. "I can't."

"I'll help you to the bed."

"It won't stay hard by the time I make it to the bed with all the pain walking causes me. Please? This could very well be the last orgasm I have before I..." He looked at her pleading when she glanced back up at him. "Before I... you know?"

She reached out and grabbed his shaft, her heart skipping a beat when she touched it again. "Tom would kill me if he knew I was giving you a hand job."

"You're not, you're just giving it a thorough washing, understand?"

Claire squirted some more wash along the shaft, tossing the bottle on the shower floor. She jerked it a few inches at a time to get a good lather going. "Didn't know this was in my job description," she said, half complaining. The other half was fascinated with Calvin's black cock and what her hand was doing to it.

"It's not and I'll never ask you again."

Claire's hand got back to the head again. "It's so big, Calvin" She lathered it up, giving the shaft long strokes this time, moving her hand along the tube quickly. Her wedding ring glistened on the white hand holding the big black cock, the black cock of her husband's chief rival in high school. She switched hands, feeling less guilty not using her ring hand. Calvin moaned, enjoying it. She felt a swell of pride, knowing she was doing him a big favor though she had the strangest feeling that she was privileged to be holding such a powerful cock. He moaned again and she glanced up at him. His eyes weren't closed and he wasn't staring at her hand on his cock. He was staring at her chest. She looked down; her shirt was soaked thru as was her bra. The wet material clung tightly to her large bosom and her nipples were visible through both the bra and top which were so wet, some of the pinkish colors were visible. Her nipples were also rock hard. She hadn't been aware of it, but now that she saw them, she was aware of a painful, needful ache coming from her throbbing nipples.

Claire's right hand was tiring quickly at the unfamiliar motions. She was left-handed and switched back to her other hand, watching her engagement and wedding rings sliding along the top of Calvin's cock. She turned her hand so that the symbols of her and Tom's love was hidden on the other side of his cock. She jerked her hand faster, the gap between her thumb and fingers growing as his cock expanded.

"FFUUCCKK!!" cried Calvin.

His cock jerked. A large wad of semen flew out of the head. "Jesus," she said again, watching it strike the back of the shower. It resembled the white gel of the body wash and his ejaculate would have overflowed her palm and that was just the first wad. His cock bucked again and again like it was trying to break free of her grip. Equally large wads of semen spewed forth from the head with each jerk. She could feel his cock pumping out his sperm in her grasp. She didn't stop jerking it, her hand helping to coax out more of his seed. His sperm was now coating the opposite wall of the shower, large globs of it running down to the floor, making their way towards the drain. The blasts weren't reaching the wall now, falling shorter and shorter until there were only little squirts spitting out of the head. She ran her hand up along his shaft over the plum-sized head, squeezing out the last of his seed which coated her fingers. Claire finally released it, holding her palm up and examining the thick viscous fluid running over her fingers. What was on her hand alone was the equivalent of one of Tom's entire ejaculations. "And I thought Tom was messy," she mumbled.

"What was that?" asked Calvin, he was gasping for breath, slouching as his powerful arms held him up.

"I said you're messy." She reached out, holding her hand under the shower rinsing his sperm off.

"Thank you," he gasped. "I haven't cum in six months. Guess I built up a lot." Calvin was recovering his strength, wincing as he put some pressure on his legs and turned himself back around. She couldn't take her eyes off his cock. It was still swollen, the head a blackish-purple, and it looked like it was about to cum again. He turned, holding it under the shower, the water parting around his shaft. "You did me a big favor, Claire. I can't thank you enough. I'll never ask you to do anything like that again."

"It wasn't so bad," she replied, flexing her left hand and wiggling her fingers to loosen them up.

Calvin dipped his head under the water. He looked out, droplets glistening on his head. "I'm getting tired of holding myself up. Can you grab the walker?"

She nodded and hurried out to get the walker. When she returned, she helped him out. His cock had deflated. It grew out a little from his crotch and dangled down still nearly eleven inches long. He grasped the walker and stepped out of the shower, his cock slapping from thigh to thigh. She pulled a towel off a nearby rack and began drying him off, starting with his head and moving down until she was wiping off his crotch and cock. When she moved the towel down to his weak legs, his cock was sticking out again. "What now?" she asked.

"That wiped me out. Help me to bed, I think I'll take a nap." She helped him to the adjoining bedroom. Calvin sat on the bed, the strain on his face relaxing as he took the pressure off his legs. He laid back, lying nude on top of the covers, his cock was floppy again, it hung over his thigh, the end resting on his bedspread. His eyes flickered down to her breasts, her wet top clung to her skin showing her bra and white flesh. Her nipples were still prominently hard. "If you could make me a sandwich and leave it in the fridge for dinner, you can take off early so you can change out of that wet top."