I Love Older Women Chapter Three
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Damnest StoryD free porn video
Again the ravings of a lunatic. Fiction. I like this story. It seemed so real when the idea grew in my mind. There is no sex. I have no idea where this should be posted. So I will put in the Loving Wives and get on with it. Copyright by mcwade May 15, 2005.
The damnest story you ever heard:
OK. Here we go. I am 63 years old. My gut is a bit too large, my waist is 36 inches instead of 32. I am way out of shape. I will walk this summer to regain some of my wind and shape. But that has diddly-shit to do with this story.
First, I need to give you some background.
As a young man I was not much of a lover. But as time went on I made up for that. I had what I believed was an average cock. It measured 6.5 inches long and 6.5 inches around. Not too long but nice. (Look, ass hole, goes measure something round and penis shaped, measure a lot of things, it will teach you about size.) It was not a monster just average. Every woman I made love to liked it, even L. whose husband had 9 full inches and was 8 inches around longer than a coke can and about the size around. (Another story if I can bear to write it) I had a lot of women, 4 marriages, 3 mistresses, and girlfriends all along the way. My inability to stay faithful was the cause of divorces.
So let us concentrate on Wife no. 4.
The last marriage took. I loved her and I stopped fucking around. I did just that, no more pussy hunting, no late nights at work. I came home to my wife. I loved her so damn much it scared me. Maybe I finally grew up. Sex was great. We did it in tents, in corn fields, in every room of the house. Nothing fancy, just regular sex, 99% in the missionary and the scissor positions She did not care for oral (except on her.) I truly did not see this as a problem.
There were problems, every marriages has problems. But we worked the problems out. The problems were all tiny ones. I only remember one argument in all of our years together. I do not remember what the hell it was about. In the beginning she would go with me to fish. I fished, she read books in the car in the winter. Before her weight and legs became a problem, she would cross country ski. In the fall she would bird watch and look for flowers along the river. We enjoyed each other.
We had been married for five years when my world began to crumble. I was diagnosed with diabetes. I could not control it, my blood sugar ran from 30 to 990. (Anything over 600 and I am supposed to be in a coma, but I wasn’t.) The blood circulation problem surfaced very quickly. I could not hold an erection. Then I could not get an erection. I tried Viagra, a lot of it. It worked one time for ten minutes. After 6 months of trying I gave up. The Doctor suggested an implant. I was not ready for that.
Sex with my wife had became a nonexistent thing. I could not get hard. She would now and then do oral on my limp dick. But she acted like it was rape. She really did not like it. If I happened to cum in her mouth, she’d spent the night in the bath vomiting and brushing her teeth and gargling Listerine. Her hand jobs were so poor I gave up on that too. I was not screwed, not blued and not tattooed. I could please her with my tongue and hands and I did, at least twice a week. But after three years, I eased off. I was getting nothing out of this. Life was not good. I could not bring myself to ask for the things that caused her so much disgust. I guess I was just a failure as a man, as a husband. But I also felt that she was failing me also. Men do have weird egos.
I did try to talk to her. But the talks just went nowhere. She was kissing me with her mouth puckered up like a small child. I asked her to kiss me normally, She did just that for two weeks then back to the pucker. I lost what little interest I had in kissing her. She wanted to cuddle at night. This always aroused me, I would reach for her and she would tell me to just cuddle her. I learned to cuddle her without touching her breasts. Every time I reached for her vagina she moved my hand. That became rare also. Life was not good.
The fishing trips that we went on together became single affairs. I went as often as I could. In the fall, I would spend weeks on the river.
I was up and down with the blood sugar. There were visits to the hospital. One trip was three weeks long, with the first week in intensive care. The next time, I was caught going north in the south bound lanes of a major cross-town artery. I had no idea who I was or where I was going. She came for me at the hospital. The next day she bought me a med-alert bracelet. I wear it 24/7/365.
Her health was also in a slow downward spiral. She had bad knees from four years of varsity basketball in college and the extra 90+ pounds she was carrying. The hips were giving her problems. Her bowels were always in trouble. There were a myriad of aches and pains. She had trouble sleeping at night, she could and did sleep at least 3 hours a day. She was my wife. I had taken her in sickness and health. She had stayed beside me when I was ill. I would stay with her. I loved her.
We talked about the implant. She seemed to be in favor of it. We would be able to have sex again. We talked a lot, mostly in our bed. Hey, there was nothing else going on.
It was four years after I had seen the doctor that I reported back. I would do the implant. He set it up quick. Two weeks later I was in a bed in the hospital dying of pain. The good doctor forgot to tell me how much pain would be involved. It took the nurses several hours to identify that I was in pain. (Like most asshole males I did not want to tell them I was in pain. After all if the doctor did not tell me about the pain, then it was not supposed to hurt.) So for the first 24 hours, I just hung on. Then they wanted me to walk. I could not overcome the pain to sit up. They called the doctor, he prescribed some pills and they gave me two of them. I went from pain to nowhere. I was in a LA LA land. I could not talk, I floated. The next time they came in, I told them ONE pill. That was much better. The pain went away and I was in control of my body.
Ok stop here. I have to tell you how this worked. Do not worry the story? will continue, just wait for a few minutes.
A Penile Implant is a neat way for inert penises to get hard. Basically, there are two tubes inside the penis and a small finger operated pump in the right side of the scrotum. In the lower abdomen, there is a reservoir of saline. There are tubes to connect everything together.
Now for how it works. The pump when squeezed will push saline from the reservoir into the tubes in the penis. The penis becomes erect. Sex may now follow. When finished, there is a small button at the top of the pump that allows the saline to return to the reservoir. It will move faster if one squeezes the penis with the other hand. The penis never really becomes flaccid. The tubes prevent that.
The throbbing of the penis is gone. There is no blood therefore no heartbeat. But it works which is better than not working.
So far so good. Now back to the story?.
After six weeks I tried it out. This was a rather shocking development. I was too short to gain entry. Measurements followed. I was four and one half inches around and 4 inches long. (Think a D cell battery circumference and 1 and ½ batteries long.) I had lost more than half of the mass I had when I was younger.
With my wife’s weight gain and my lack of length I could only just barely get the head inside her. A most unsatisfying arrangement. She still did not like oral unless I actually pushed her head down to me. She still saw oral as rape, or that is the way I believed she saw it. It was very plain she did not care for it. Nor did she try to fake any enthusiasm. I do not know if I would have preferred that or not.
I went back to the good Doctor. It was a good implant. I had atrophied, I was smaller. I should have gotten the implant earlier. I should not have waited. They
are right, use it or lose it. I could not buy an erection so I lost my size. He did not tell me this before the implant was made.
WELL, FUCK!!!!!!!
So here I am. I have a working implant, that is laughably short. She sees oral as rape, she will never be able to show any joy in it. I cannot reach inside her. Over the last seven years, she has turned away from me. She is very into her church and her sick friends. I felt like a fucking rapist every time I tried to have sex with her. She does not want me sexually, I want her but cannot satisfy her. Hell, I cannot get it inside her. I finally just gave up.
Now for the good part. I did try to cheat on my wife. It was about a year after the implant. I was in a hospital cafeteria. There was an attractive woman, I sat at her table, and we talked. Her hubby was cheating and she wanted revenge sex. I was her man. We checked into a hotel. It was just over a hundred a night. I paid. (I always had paid for the motel or hotel with all of my women) We got to the room. We got into it fast. She was nude and I was eating her like there was no tomorrow, she was climaxing so fast, I knew she was ready. I dropped my pants and shorts. She saw me for the first time. She laughed for over 10 minutes before she was able to tell me that even her lousy cheating husband had more than I did. She giggled as she dressed and left. I sat on the bed and my guts twisted into a tiny knot and what self esteem I had left slowly collapsed. Oh, she was a Doctor of Psychiatry!
The piping system ia a sealed system. The implant leaks a bit. From the storage reservoir to the tubs inside the penis. The leak is in the pump. I stay about half erect. I must drain the penis every 3 minutes. I find it difficult to hug anyone. I do not want them to think I am a dirty old man. So I try to avoid the grandchildren, they soon learn that I an not huggable. That hurts me too. I have a 10 year old grand-daughter. She liked me a lot. She hugged me anyway until she found a half hard dick in her belly. She hugs me no more. She avoids me. That hurts too. How do I tell the world that I have a leaking implant and it is ok to hug me?
So, I am 63 years old. Sex is distantly remembered. My wife is ill and getting sicker. I cannot leave her. She will end up in assisted living. We do not have enough money to separate. The health insurance alone is eating up 20% of our combined income. It runs close to $10,000 a year.
It does not appear that I will never again have sex with anyone.
Maybe I should put an ad on the net: ‘Wanted: Woman who loves small cocks. Must be very small and very petite. No fat and no heavy legs, Should be free on Tuesdays and Thursdays for a married man with a 4 inch cock with an implant. Car fare not included.’ Well, maybe not. With diabetes any STD just might kill me.
I still love my wife. She cuddles with me, she is careful not to arouse me. Without the indicator of a penis, that is very difficult to judge. She tells me every day she loves me, that I am the man she loves. I lie beside her at night and want her so bad I hurt. I have tried the masturbation routine. I just do not care for it. Oh, it helps now and then. But it is not sex. Hell, it is not even a good relief.
I feel I am a very poor excuse for a man. And we have not even talked about how this caused me to lose my job. I felt too inadequate to meet with people. Yeah, I know. Get over it. Move on. A man’s a man for all of that. Well, it just is not that easy. It will take years of counseling for me to find an answer to this. And the health insurance only pays half of the fees. The fees run $150 an hour and up here. I would have to pay a least $300 a month for an hour a week or $3600 a year. I just do not have that kind of money. And if I did I desperately need a better car. My 10 year old minivan is falling apart.
There is a solution to the half hard penis. Remove the entire implant or just the saline, maybe. I will have to talk to the Doctor about that. I guess I am just hoping that some woman somewhere would want me the way I am. Short, small, in a marriage I cannot and will not get out of. A friend with benefits. I know of no one. I just lack the faith to go out and make friends. I just stay at home and write silly and stupid stories for the internet.
The diabetes will kill me eventually. I have made plans for that. I will not go blind, I will not lose a leg. I have insulin in my refrigerator, at least 2000 units and at the most 10,000. I figure 100 units should put me out of my misery. I will use 500 to be sure. The Doctors will debate it and then agree that I made a mistake when I took the insulin shots. Like they give a fuck! When they make up their minds, I will be cremated and late one night my ashes scattered to the wind on the river I fish. Hopefully, no one will cry for me. I will provide a few dollars for a party, an open bar and a DJ for music. Let my friends (Not that I have many friends. I cannot seen to think of any) and family drink and dance my soul to hell. The bet is that when my ashes was tossed, I will have a lot of friends show up at that party.
Or just maybe this is God’s joke on me for the unfaithful bastard I was. Since I find it impossible to really believe in a God, I find this type of God thinking dumb and dumber. Like I care about the God my wife prays to. Or anyone else’s either. Or maybe I have never seen any indication that those Gods cared for me.
Hey, news! The Veteran’s Administration has decided that my diabetes was caused by exposure to Agent Orange in Viet Nam. Like that helps me now. I am due some compensation, based on my disability. I wonder how the inability to have sex will be calculated into the compensation package. Or maybe I can get the VA to pay for the removal of the messed-up leaking implant. Or maybe the counseling. You know at this stage of my life, I just do not give a shit. Excuse me, time to drain the monster. HOHOHAHAHAHAHA!
So, now is that not the damnest story you ever heard or what?????????
Well, that is the latest raving. I did not like the way the story turned out. I asked LadyCibelle. She did not like it. It was the first of my stories she did not like. I rewrote it several times. I did a hell of lot of research for this story. I now know a lot about penile implants, I already knew about diabetes. Thankfully the story was short, lol. Public comments are welcomed. Say what you will. ‘Lay on, MacDuff, and damned be he who cries hold enough.’ Shakespeare, MacBeth the last scene. Again FICTION!!!
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