Erectile Dysfunction Pt. 01

"Well, my erection problem is having a massive effect on us, it seems like all I think of, and I'm guessing you're the same."

"Yes, you could say that."

"See, I knew it. You've always been so hot for it, all our lives together. You're trying to be discrete, but I can see how intensely you miss us having the good sex. It must be driving you up the wall. I feel so guilty that I'm letting you down."

"Oh Rob, please don't feel guilty."

"I can't help it, I know I've let you down big time, it's so frustrating that I can't get it up or keep it up anymore. I'm constantly trying to think up a solution. Since tablets and injections have failed us, the best option I see is to find a surrogate, a man of around our ages who can get it up, but one you'd approve of to fuck you."

I touched my hand to his arm, "Rob, I don't want any other man to do what only you have always done."

"You might have to accept one because it looks like my cock is pretty much dead and buried."

"Have you been searching for someone since we dismissed your brother a week ago?"

"No honey, seriously I haven't. This guy at golf today simply came across as a nice, sincere friendly man ... good smile, handsome face. That would be so important when you'd need to look up at him as he hovers above you, giving you a solid fucking from a cock that still works."

"How do you know it still works, surely you didn't ask him?"

"Not in as many words honey, but over drinks at the bar I brought up the subject of sex among oldies and virtually ran a quiz around the table of who can still get it up."

"Oh my God, how embarrassing if you weren't all that subtle and the others in the group worked out what we're going through."

"No Evelyn, I lied when it came to my turn to answer."

"So what were the findings of your survey, darling?"

"Well, Jack Drayton came clean, his doesn't function any more."

"Isn't he married to Sarah? I know her, she's in my tennis club."

"Oh shit, she is too. For god's sake, don't let on to her that you know old Jack can't get it up anymore ... and don't go telling any of the other wives either."

"Darling, I am always discrete. You should know I wouldn't talk about that to others. So, what was the response from the other two guys?"

"Old Phil Hunter occasionally has problems but he said his wife doesn't care too much these days so he reckons he gets it up long enough on the odd occasion when she looks as if she'd like one."

"So, is Phil this man you have picked out for me?"

"No, I picked a real clean-skin for you. A widower, his wife died last year ... he told us how much he missed the sex they'd had, said how hot and regular it had always been. They sounded like us honey. He saw a picture of you ... I could see from his reaction that he liked what he saw. But the clincher was that he says he still gets it up ... and does a lot. Says he has to beat off two or three nights a week because he still gets horny, missing all the sex they had."

"Oh, the poor man."

"See, a perfect man to substitute for me. Instead of wanking, he can put his hard-on to good use."

"And do me?"

"Yes, of course."

"Did you check out his cock size Rob?"

"What ... of course not! Are you crazy?"

"Well, you boast how perfect he'd be for me, I thought maybe you'd checked out the dimensions, made sure that he'd fill me the way you always have."

"And don't any more ... thanks for reminding me."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass or demean you in any way. Darling, you know how sympathetic I am about your problem."

"So what do you think of my plan?"

"I'll need much more convincing darling. But I am curious, how did he see a photo of me?"

"Oh yes, I got my wallet out to pay for a round of drinks and he spotted the photo of you that I carry. He sort of soft whistled, then told me what a lucky guy I must be to have such a beautiful wife."

"Did he actually say beautiful?"

"He sure did."

"Isn't that a recent photo that you carry around with you?"

"Yes it is, taken only two years ago."

"And he called me beautiful from a photo taken only two years back?"

"What's what's wrong with that, you are beautiful ... still today honey. See how perfect he'd be to help us?"

"What, the fact that he thinks I'm beautiful."

"Yes, that helps a lot. And I know you'd find him handsome and very appealing..." he laughed, "no matter his cock size."

I did think about his crazy plan -- a lot -- as I pretended to return to reading my book. It had now been nearly six months since my life partner was beset by this disastrous erection problem. But I struggled with the prospect of becoming intimate with another man, no matter how perfect Rob thought him. The only plus I drew was that -- at 58, a mature woman -- this man described me as beautiful. That gave me warm feelings deep inside.

Maybe that prompted the visions I started having in my mind of me, laying in a stranger's bed, this faceless man moving on top of me, sliding a very stiff and delightful hard-on up inside me ... it felt just as it always had with my husband. And, in these visions, I actually wrapped my arms around the stranger, urging him softly, "Make love to me."

What was happening in my head, was my vagina so hard sex starved that I was even contemplating a scene where Rob's stupid idea might actually happen? Surely it can't be because this man called me beautiful? I'm not that vain. Is it possible that I could so easily be won over, to let another man possess my body sexually, make love to me the way that I missed being taken, simply because he thinks I'm beautiful?

Rob's voice brought me back to the here and now, "You're really thinking about this, aren't you Ev? I can see it in your face, you had a slight smile. That's good! Honey, I'd be so happy if you'd do this ... it would ease the guilt I have, of letting you down by losing the capacity to fuck the way we always have."

He was rambling on now and I tried to hear and understand his words, but I struggled to wipe the image from my mind of this other man, a stranger, laying on top of me and giving me such a solid hard driving fuck, of the kind I hadn't enjoyed for months.

"Hey honey, I'm pleased that you are at least considering this. Don't get me wrong, I want this only for you, I'll get nothing from it other than knowing you're satisfied the right way again. If you do it, I can imagine the long hours you are with him will be difficult for me ... quite painful, on my own somewhere, thinking of you being fucked by him."

"That's good enough reason for me not to do it, Rob."

"Evelyn, I've read some guys get off on that sort of thing, get a vicarious pleasure to be cuckolded, they seem to like and want another man to have their wife. Ev, that's not me at all, and I won't want to hear what happened afterwards, other than to hear you say you got pleasure."

His enthusiasm caused me to take him seriously, "How do you see this might happen, and before you answer, let me specify very clearly here and now that I am not about to consider it, no matter how much it might ease your conscience? And by the way, that's not necessary. Our doctor said it could have happened to any couple. But I am curious, so hypothetically, what does your plan entail? Do I go to his house or would he come here, walk in, lay down and let him do me like I was with a male escort?"

"Err, no ... err, I don't think so ... that would be very cold and it mightn't work."

"Rob, you haven't thought this through yet, have you?"

"Err, well no, not really. Um, before any meeting for hot sex, you'd need to meet him face-to-face, ensure you were happy with how he looks and talks. I mean we wouldn't want you to be with someone arrogant who could strut around after, boasting and crowing how he did this woman whose husband can't get it up any more. That's why I think this guy is perfect, he doesn't come across like that."

"On just one meeting, over a round of golf."

"Well, err, yes I guess so. I reckon he would tick all the boxes."

I don't know what caused me to be so crass at this moment, but I moved my hand to raise the sheet draped over my body, telling my husband, "Darling, this down here is the only box that needs to be ticked."

He groaned, "Oh, I know that honey, I really do, and it pains me that I can't do what I used to do so well."

I turned toward him, offering up my face to be kissed. Rob saw what I needed at that moment and kissed me, full on the lips, pushing his tongue between my lips and we enjoyed a deep and meaningful session of french kissing ... all lips and tongues. His fingers slipped down to my pussy and I let him finger me. Two fingers still didn't feel like his once always hard cock but in our marriage bed that evening, he brought me off with an expert g-spot fingering and I orgasmed.

Had I cum because of how well Rob worked his two fingers inside me or did I actually cum because -- I can't tell Rob -- while his fingers worked inside me, I closed my eyes and imagined I was in that stranger's bed and what I was feeling in my passage was the man's solid erection nailing me?

We slept after my one orgasm and in the morning, my husband brought me breakfast in bed. As I ate, he perched on the edge of our bed, "So, should I call Terry today?"

"Who's Terry?"

"Mister perfect that I told you about last night, from the golf club."

"Whoa Rob, not so fast. I haven't said that I'd go for this crazy plan of yours."

"But you never said you wouldn't either, and I saw a slight smile on your face when I suggested him being able to solve our basic problem."

"I'm not even conceding that I did smile at your suggestion, but a smile doesn't mean that I agree with this stupid idea."

"So it's stupid, is it?"

"Well ... no, not entirely. Darling, I can see where you're coming from and I appreciate that you are trying to look after my body's needs, but I doubt that some other man could come close to replacing what we had together, all our life."

"I am not suggesting for one moment that he replace what we have ... I just think a couple of hours with him a week could keep your body humming the way it should, and always has."

"Hmm, you never got to finish telling me last night how it would work."

"No, I didn't! Well, the way I see it, I thought I might invite him to have dinner with us one evening."

"Wouldn't he think that was odd, you only met him just the once?"

"Yes, but we got on really well, like we'd known each other for years. He seems that kind of guy. So, I thought the three of us could have dinner, either here or at the club, simply for you to assess whether you think you'd feel comfortable having him fuck you ... before I ask him for his help."

"So, we wouldn't actually end up fucking that night?"

"NO, of course not. No fucking on that evening, just dinner so you can decide if you think you'd feel comfortable to be in bed with him, have sex with him."

"So, when would you tell him of your plan?"

"Honey, by then, it would be our plan."

"Oh ok, our plan. I am not sure if I would want to be present when you spring your plan on him."

"Why not honey?"

"Well, what if he says no, I'd be so embarrassed and humiliated."

"There's no way he'd say no."

"You can't know that for sure," I paused, "Unless you've already suggested it to him?"

"NO, I definitely have not!"

"Well, ok then."

"What? You mean you agree?" His face had brightened, I was amazed that he could be so excited at us taking such a major step in our marriage.

"NO, I haven't ... not yet. And I am not sure I should the way you became so excited."

"I am not excited for me honey, only for you and what it can do for you. I've starved you of good sex these past few months."

"I'll only promise to think about it, and don't pressure me. Let me think in my own time, I'll let you know when I've reached a decision. That's all I'll say at this point."

"Ok, that's good!"

Chapter Two

Neither of us spoke a word of Rob's plan over the following days. That doesn't mean I didn't think about it in almost every waking moment. Could I actually go to bed with a man other than my husband of 36 years and do all that intimate stuff? It had to be a straightforward yes or no.

But while favouring a NO, I reflected how I've always considered myself more highly sexualised than most women I know. I couldn't dismiss that my body greatly misses receiving Rob's nicely shaped cock, perfect when rock hard, probing, thrusting within my pleasure passage. In quiet meditative moments alone each day since this drama unfolded, I contemplate never again being comprehensively filled and fucked by a firm erection all the way to orgasm. At times of self-pity, I even curse God for allowing this travesty to befall us ... despite our doctor saying that two-thirds of all men over 70 will experience Erectile Dysfunction.

I was bouncing back and forth, one minute on the verge of going to Rob wherever he was -- working in our garden or sitting on the toilet -- and unequivocally saying, 'Ok, let's do it, call your friend and book me in, I want it.' But an hour later, I'd be just as positive that this must never happen, no matter how badly my body craves the feel of a hard erection pounding my vagina. My biggest concern was that an infidelity of this kind could wreck our marriage,

I thought of running the idea by my best friends, but on the next day that I was with a couple of them, I got cold feet, considering how bad it could sound. If I take this big step and let another man's cock inside me, no other person must know

Rob's next Thursday golf day rolled around. As he was leaving to go play, he came over to kiss me goodbye -- quite passionately as it turned out. "I've left you with your thoughts honey, but you've said nothing about my big idea. Are you still considering it because I'll see Terry at the Club today ... I could at least suggest his having dinner with us this Saturday. Only so you can meet him of course, nothing else for now."

"Are you playing in the same four with him today?"

"Yes, I asked to play with him when I called to book in."

"Oh my God Rob, he'll think you're stalking him."

"No he won't, we got on so well, I consider him a buddy now. We have a lot in common."

"Do you?"

"Yeah ... for a start, we both think you're beautiful."

At that moment, I was still favouring no, but wasn't prepared to totally rule it out. On the spur of the moment, I accepted that meeting him may help me finally decide. "Oh ok, I'll at least agree to dinner, what harm is there in that?"

His face brightened, "That's my girl, no commitment, just an exploratory evening."

To indicate my ongoing indecision, I added, "Definitely only dinner at this stage."

I have to admit to being curious if this guy would come to dinner on his own with a married couple and I expected that Rob would be eager to tell me the minute he came in the door from golf if the guy accepted. Rob's always talkative when he gets home from golf because he enjoys a few beers at the club and becomes slightly inebriated. But he said nothing.

It wasn't until over dinner, an hour later, that Rob nonchalantly said, "I played with Terry again today, what a great guy he is."

"You don't need to sell him to me Rob, let me make up my own mind about him."

"Sure honey, I ran the idea by him of the three of us having dinner and he jumped at the chance. He said that since his wife died, their old friends never invite him out with them ... he thinks because he's no longer part of a couple."

"Oh Rob, that's so sad. So, when am I going to meet him?"

"This Saturday night honey."

"Oh, that soon!"

"Yeah, well none of us had anything on for Saturday so I couldn't see any reason to delay."

"I hope that you didn't hint of anything more than dinner being on the table?"

"Like what honey?"

"You know what I'm talking about, it's been our elephant in the room all week."

"Yes, it has been. No, I naturally never mentioned my plan. I did tell him what a wonderful woman you are, so thoughtful, so compassionate."

"Hopefully you did say COM-passionate and not just passionate?"

"I used both words in describing you."

"What ... oh no, what did you say to him?"

"I was singing your praises, told him you've always been a very passionate woman."

"Oh no, trust you after you've had a few beers. Goodness knows what you told him about me, I hope you didn't go too far."

"No sweetheart, it's cool. I only wanted him to know that you are the real deal as a woman. Sort of a pre-sell in case you approve of me putting my proposal to him."

"I've made no commitment yet Rob!"

"No, no, agreed!"

On the Friday, Terry called Rob to ask if we'd mind coming to his house for dinner. His reason was that after his wife died, he'd enrolled in cooking classes and he wanted to try out on us all that he'd learned.

So, on Saturday evening around seven, Rob and I stepped from our car outside the home of this man that Rob wanted me to fornicate with soon. I had such a weird feel walking with Rob up to the man's front door, imagining myself walking here alone from our car to the door, even as soon as this coming week. Would Rob drop me here, and when Terry opened his front door, would I turn to wave to my husband and then walk inside this house, into the arms of this stranger and into his bed? Not quite as bad as it sounds because after tonight, he won't be a stranger ... just our friend Terry.

Rob rang the bell and the door swung open. Standing there to greet us, with a warm smile, was a man over six feet (Rob is 5'10"), slender build (you could call Rob bulky, 90 kilos -- 198 pounds). Clearly handsome, Terry's hair salt-and-pepper (not yet fully grey), he looked older than Rob ... I would discover, through the evening, he is 68. A most distinguished looking man. When he spoke, well, he could have once been a radio announcer or even someone on TV. A rich deep voice, enunciating every word clearly. It took less than an hour of conversation to recognise why Rob determined he would be perfect for me.

I liked what I saw ... and heard. At times, I was content to just sit and listen to the two men chat ... absorbing his resonant tones. Examining his deep blue eyes too, and his lips. Shamefully, I admit daring to imagine them locked with mine. My God, what is wrong with me? I found myself staring at the front of his trousers each time he returned from trips to the kitchen to check on dinner, hoping to detect some shape that could give a clue to how he was hung. Was my sexual deprivation steering me to Rob's proposal?

My worst transgression of the night occurred late, around eleven. I'd consumed more glasses of wine than I'm accustomed to during the superb dinner; I was floating along nicely. On my second trip to the bathroom to pee, I did what many of us do when in somebody else's home. I opened his bathroom cabinet to curiously scan the items.

That's only the half of it ... leaving the bathroom, I passed what appeared to be the master bedroom and snuck inside. I stood beside his big bed, picturing myself laying there, looking up at this man I'd previously imagined. Now, he had a nice face and a body shape, and a voice. We were both naked as I imagined him standing where I stood, looking down on my body.

Of course, in my intensely frustrated state, the most real aspect of this vision in my head was Terry's enormous erection, proudly standing out horizontally. Could it be as big as I pictured it? I touched his pillow, the sheets, dared to open a drawer of his bedside table. It contained some neatly folded handkerchiefs, a tube of lube, a packet of condoms and a foil of that erection tablet Rob had tried. Why would a man nearly 70 need condoms? Was he dating younger still fertile women? Were Rob - and me too, I guess - kidding ourselves that Terry could be interested in a 58-year-old woman if I agree to let Rob offer me in his crazy plan?