Dying to Fuck Your Wife
Copyright 2020 by Stormbringer
“I still think this sounds depressing.”
Claire grimaced. “There’s a spot,” she said, watching the
reverse lights of a car come on as it started to back out. Tom stopped the car
waiting for the space to vacate. “We’ll just pay our respects to Calvin and
catch up with some of our friends.”
Calvin Custis was dying.
Calvin transferred to Claire and Tom’s high school senior
year, one of just a few black people in their school. He was well-liked but had
trouble getting dates largely because none of the senior girls wanted to break
the racial barrier and partly because at 5’4”, he was shorter than most of his
female classmates. Despite, his short stature, Calvin was a weightlifter and an
amazing athlete at everything even basketball. Tom and Calvin were rivals on
the field, friendly, but not close. Tom was the team quarterback, but Calvin
ended up beating him out for Captain of the baseball team. Calvin had also
asked Claire out multiple times despite the fact she was dating Tom and towered
over the short black man by a good half foot. Calvin had been more persistent
when she and Tom officially broke up after graduation when Tom left for
college, but Claire had politely declined, went on a couple of dates with
several classmates for a month before she and Tom got back together when he
called her crying about what a mistake he’d made breaking up with her. They
married three years later when he graduated from college.
High school had been fourteen years ago. They’d stayed
local, close to family. Tom got a job in real estate; Claire opened an arts and
crafts store that she’d recently had to close. Calvin managed a bar and
restaurant on Main street for the last ten years. They bumped into him once in a
while or had dinner at his restaurant around once a year, always exchanging
polite greetings and catching up. Calvin never married, was engaged once, but
it fell through. He continued working out until he was as big as Dwayne Johnson
compressed down into Kevin Hart’s size. Nobody teased him about his height when
they saw his biceps.
They’d heard rumors
Calvin was sick. The big C. Ironically Calvin was called the Big C by his
friends. Tom and Claire had seen him just nine months earlier and he looked
fine, so they were shocked to hear Calvin was so sick. Calvin was officially
retiring at thirty-two and his coworkers had decided to throw him a retirement
party, but it was in reality a celebration of his life. Tom found it morbid,
but Claire thought it was a great idea.
They walked the block down Main street to The Home Plate, Grill
& Sport’s Bar. They were early. Calvin was seated in an armchair, receiving
well-wishers like a king receiving supplicants. “He looks good,” whispered Tom
to his wife.
“Looks the same except for the hair,” Claire whispered back.
Nine months ago, he’d had a healthy flattop and sideburns now he was bald.
A spot opened up and Tom approached the chair. “Hey Calvin,”
he said, his eyes flickering down. From the waist up, Calvin was still a
broad-shouldered muscleman, but his legs were no longer muscular, they looked
weak and scrawny. His hand was resting on a cane.
“Tommy Thompson!” said Calvin, smiling and greeting him with
a strong handshake. “And Claire Casey.”
Claire’s eyes were also on his legs. Calvin’s were on her
breasts. Tom didn’t blame him. Claire had dressed to show off for her fellow
cheerleaders. She was wearing a blue twist tie, cropped tee from Victoria’s
Secret that showed off her flat tummy and an impressive amount of cleavage. Her
breasts had been large in high school and many a guy called Claire Casey,
Double C. Her old nickname was no longer true, however, as the only visible
places Claire had gained weight was in her breasts and they were now a full DD.
White short shorts with a black belt and sandals completed her outfit. “Hey
Calvin,” said Claire, leaning down and showing him even more cleavage as she
kissed him on the cheek. She didn’t mind the attention; the chestnut-haired
beauty was used to it. She had bright green eyes, full lips, and high
cheekbones. She’d been the most popular girl in school and nearly every boy had
dreamed of getting her in bed. She was the hottest woman in the bar at that
moment, probably the town, the county, and maybe even the state.
“You look great as always Claire,” said Calvin, openly
sweeping his eyes down her body. “Tom, thanks for dressing up.”
“Yep,” said Tom, in a worn tee shirt and jeans. He wore a
suit and tie every day selling houses and refused to dress up when he was off
work. He wasn’t aging as well as Claire, his tee shirt hugged a growing belly
and his sandy brown hair was receding with a small growing bald spot on his
head.
“You look good,” said Claire, though her eyes were sad.
“Liar,” said Calvin, laughing. He was in good spirits.
“No, I mean it,” she said. “You look good bald. It makes you
look…”
“Virile,” he said with a smile, making Tom snort. “Like a large
black penis.” This made Tom snort again and Claire laughed. “Speaking of
penises, how come Tom hasn’t knocked you up yet?”
Claire blushed. “Well, we are officially trying.” She held
crossed fingers up.
“We put starting a family on hold to get our careers going
and travel some, but now that Claire’s shut down her boutique…”
“And Tom’s making good money,” she added. “We’re finally
ready.”
“Well, if it’s a boy, name him Calvin,” said Calvin.
“Uh… we’ll think about it,” said Claire, glancing at her
husband. There was no way she was going to name her boy after Calvin. Of
course, Calvin was pulling their legs, but when a dying man made a request of
you, you got uncomfortable.
“How are the legs?” asked Tom.
“Weak,” said Calvin, his smile dropping. “And growing
weaker. The pain is constant, but you know…” He shrugged. “It is what it is.”
Calvin sat back.
They exchanged small talk for a few moments. Calvin invested
in some land when younger and just sold it for a small fortune. Tom was a
little peeved that Calvin hadn’t gone through him to broker the sale. There was
a line forming up behind them to greet Calvin, so the Thompsons moved on. “You
should try the bald look,” said Claire to her husband. “It does make him look
virile.”
“At some point, I’ll give up and shave it all off,” said
Tom, “But until then, I’m fighting it all the way.” He waved at some old
classmates.
“CLAIRE!”
“TOM!”
The Thompsons greeted some of their high school friends.
There were handshakes, hugs, beers brought, and shots thrown back. Despite the
nature of the gathering, the next two hours were a lot of fun and felt more
like an impromptu high school reunion than a celebration of life.
“Oh, it looks like Calvin’s leaving,” said Claire to her
husband. Someone was helping Calvin to his feet. His legs looked shaky and he
was wincing, sweat beading on his bald head.
“Let’s go say bye,” said Tom, pushing himself up off the
table. “This is…”
“Yeah,” said Claire, frowning. This was probably the last
time either of them would see Calvin until his funeral.
Friends were lining up to get a picture with the little
black man despite that it was visibly paining him to keep standing. “You good
for one more?” asked Tom.
“Sure,” said Calvin, grinning, but wincing. “But just me and
Claire.” He was half kidding. They took a picture with Calvin between them and
then he did want one of just him and Claire. The short black man leaned into
her, his head the same height and roughly the same size as each of her breasts.
He closed his eyes, smiling like he’d fallen asleep on a pillow and their
watching friends laughed.
“Well Calvin, hang in there,” said Tom. “Be strong. If
there’s anything we can do for you, don’t hesitate to give us a call.”
“Well, since you asked,” said Calvin.
Tom paused. “What do you want?”
“I want your wife,” said Calvin, staring him in the eye and
wiggling his eyebrows.
“You what?” asked Tom.
“Seriously,” said Calvin. “I want your wife to be my helper.”
“What do you mean?” asked Claire.
“I need a helper. You know, someone to drive me to the
doctor, make me lunch. Do some minor cleaning. You know.”
“You’re serious?” asked Claire.
“Why not?” asked Calvin. “It hit me when you guys mentioned
you were trying to have a baby. Claire closed up her shop and isn’t doing
anything. I don’t have anyone to help me since my parents died and I’m always
begging people for help. I need a ride to chemo Monday. I’d pay you of course.”
Claire shrugged, looking up in thought. “I’m not sure. I
mean, I could certainly take you to the doctor Monday, but I couldn’t take any
money for it.”
“I insist. Look, could you at least give it a try? I can pay
you $1000 per week.”
“A thousand!” she exclaimed. “That’s too much.” Her failing
business had been struggling to take in a thousand dollars a month.
“I can afford it just fine, but it is at least a forty-hour
week. Maybe more as I sometimes need help on Saturdays.”
“I do usually end up showing houses Saturday,” said Tom,
glancing at his wife. “But we like to spend Sunday together.”
“I’ll guarantee you Sunday off,” said Calvin, looking
hopeful. “I have a neighbor I can call Sunday if I need anything.”
“I don’t know,” said Claire thinking about it.
“I know it’s a lot to ask,” he pleaded. “I need you and you
can put the money towards little Calvin’s college fund.” Claire rolled her
eyes. She was wavering. Calvin added, “In a more serious note, the doctors
don’t expect I’ll last much longer than another six months. It wouldn’t be for
that long.”
“I guess I could give it a try,” said Claire, looking at
Tom, pleading with her eyes, hoping he had a good excuse for her to get out of
it.” He just shrugged.
“Great,” said Calvin. “I’ll need a ride to the hospital
Monday morning and I have a short shopping list of things I need. Can you be at
my house by 9:00 am?”
“Sure,” said Claire.
“Let me have your number and I’ll text you my address.”
They exchanged numbers. Tom held his hand out and shook
Calvin’s, wincing slightly at the little black man’s strong grip. Claire hugged
him goodbye, bending down far enough that the little black man’s head wouldn’t
be buried in her chest. Calvin’s friend ushered him out. The Thompsons left,
walking down Main street towards Tom’s car. Tom backed out of his spot and
aimed the car home.
“For a second, I thought he was asking for you know what,”
said Claire, nervously
“Yeah,” said Tom with a snort. “You know Calvin, he’s always
joking around.” Tom stared out the windshield, his mind wandering.
**********
Tom unwrapped the towel from his waist and tossed it on the
bench before entering the shower, followed by a few others. The new kid, the
little black guy was already in the shower, facing the wall. He couldn’t help
being impressed by the V-shape of the black guy’s back as a trim waist
broadened outward into broad muscular shoulders. He probably had little man’s
complex and bulked up to make bullies think twice before teasing him.
Tom stepped under the closest shower and began lathering up
his own fit body. He bent his head back under the water, adding shampoo and
washing his hair. One of his friends said something he couldn’t quite hear
under the water. Tom moved his head out. “What was that?”
“I said, Jesus, not everything on the new kid is little.”
Tom turned his head. Calvin was exiting the shower. Two
other guys were entering, looking down on Calvin with looks of shock on their
faces. Tom finished rinsing and left the shower. As he stepped out, Calvin was
still there drying off. He was toweling off his crotch, lifting the towel away
just as Tom glanced down. Tom froze staring in horror at the behemoth penis
sticking out between Calvin’s legs. He felt his penis shrink into his testicles
as he stared at the dark black monstrosity. Calvin’s penis was mostly hard and
sticking straight out from his crotch. Even not completely hard, the thing was
longer than a football, at least a foot long and as thick as an energy drink
can. Calvin’s eyes flickered down to Tom’s shrunken genitals, then back up,
grinning at him as Tom stared in horror at the huge black cock sticking out
from the short man’s legs.
Tom recovered, but the image was burned in his brain. Erect,
his penis was only around five and a half inches long. It looked a little
smaller than the other guys in the shower, but soft there wasn’t much of a noticeable
difference.
Showering after gym class or games made Tom feel emasculated
after that. Calvin’s cock was always either sticking straight out, slightly
bent down or swinging back and forth between his thighs like a giant rotten
black banana. Tom began taking quick showers or lagging behind to let Calvin
finish and leave. Almost as bad as being emasculated by his huge black cock,
Calvin almost immediately became the most popular guy in school, assuming the
alpha male role over the other guys. They went where Calvin wanted to go, did
what Calvin wanted to do.
**********
That thing would rip Claire apart, thought Tom, the color
slightly drained from his cheeks. Twelve years later, he was half convinced his
memory had just inflated the size of Calvin’s cock. It couldn’t have been that
big. It couldn’t have.
“You okay there?” asked Claire. “Pay attention to the road.”
“Sorry,” he apologized. Tom snorted. “This is bad, but I was
just thinking that if he was chasing after you, he’d never be able to catch
you.”
“Oh, that’s horrible,” said Claire, wincing at the joke, but
shamefully finding it funny. She glanced out her window, her mind drifting off
to memories of Calvin.
**********
Claire was drunk, but in her defense so was everyone else.
Summer was nearly over and this would be the final official high school party
of their lives. Tom had just left for college, but first, he’d dumped her.
Asshole probably wanted to be free to fool around with college girls. She was
going to take some classes at a local community college.
“Drink,” ordered Liz, sinking a quarter in the shot glass. “New
rule and that’s no more rules.”
“Thank god,” said Sam, one of Tom’s friends, swaying on his
feet. The rules had gotten totally out of hand. Claire had gone on one date
with Sam, but she was still upset over Tom, and Sam had been a little grabby
with her tits kissing her goodnight.
“Instead of rules, you can make any two people go in the
closet for “Seven minutes in heaven.”
“What are we, thirteen?” complained Claire.
“Fine, you’ll be first when I sink another three,” said Liz.
Her quarter bounced, plopping right into the glass. “Drink,” she ordered. Liz
was amazingly good at this game no matter how drunk she was. She easily sank
two more ordering Claire to drink two more gulps of beer. “Alright Claire and…”
She looked around the room. “Calvin.” Liz tossed her head back and laughed.
“NO!” said Claire. Liz had done a good job picking out the
least likely person she’d want to make out with.
“Did I hear my name?” asked Calvin, coming over to the
table. He took a sip of his beer.
“Yes,” said Liz, wagging her finger at him. “You and Claire
have to go in the closet for seven minutes.”
“Seriously?” He glanced at Claire who was shaking her head,
negatively.
“YES!” Liz was swaying on her feet. “I made a rule. Double C
and The Big C in the closet. That’s three Cs, right Calvin?”
“Si,” he replied, grinning.
“NO!” said Claire, shaking her head.
“Rules are rules, Claire,” said Calvin taking her hand.
Liz threw back her head and laughed while another
cheerleader held the door to the closet open. Calvin pulled Claire inside. She
had to duck under the coat rack, sitting on a trash bag of clothing in the
corner. The door closed and they were in darkness.
“I’m not doing anything with you,” said Claire.
Calvin was silent for a moment. “We have to kiss at least.”
“The rules don’t say we have to do anything. We’ll just sit
here for the seven minutes.” Claire jumped when she felt his hands on her
shoulders.
Calvin massaged her shoulder. She was tense but began to
relax. “We’ll just kiss. I know better, but they’ll think you’re a racist if we
don’t at least kiss.”
His hands felt good on her shoulders and she began to loosen
up. Truthfully, the fact that he was black was the main reason she was
reluctant and that he was half a foot shorter than she was. She thought of Tom
and how he’d loathe it if she made out with his rival. “Alright. You can kiss
me,” but that’s all.”
Calvin pulled her forward. Seated, her head was slightly
lower than Calvin’s. Their noses touched and she turned her head sideways as
his lips pressed hers. They made out for a minute before Calvin’s tongue began
pushing between her lips. She pushed back, her tongue slipping into his mouth. She
moved her hands to his shoulders but slid them down his arms, his biceps were
so big and hard. Calvin’s hands slid down her sides. In the dark, it was so
easy to forget he was a little black man. His hands were on her waist, moving
under her shirt and touching her bare flesh. The hands moved over to cup her
breasts over her bra, kneading them. Claire went to push him away, her hands pushing
on his chest, but encountering the hard brick wall of his pectorals. Instead of
pushing, she let her hands run across his muscular chest and before she knew
it, his hands were under her bra, tweaking her nipples which were soon rock
hard and sending spasms of desire down to her crotch. He kept playing with her
right nipple while his other hand grabbed her wrist and moved it down to his
knee, releasing it. Her hand squeezed his knee, he moved his leg and she found
herself frowning as her hand slid over a hard knob, larger than a golf ball
attached to a thick shaft. She squeezed it wondering what the hell she was
touching? Her hand started to explore what felt like an impossibly huge…
“TIMES UP!” yelled a classmate opening the door. “WHOA!”
Claire opened her eyes, pulling back as Calvin jerked his hands
out from under her shirt. She felt flushed and was breathing heavily. Calvin
turned and walked out of the closet, giving some teammates a thumbs up.
“Yeah! Big C!” shouted some applauding.
Claire flushed some more and followed him. Liz was collapsed
on a couch, half passed out and the quarters game was over. They were the only
two that had to go in the closet that night. Calvin approached her, a cocky
grin across his face, asking if she needed a ride home. She had a ride and
declined. He called her the next day, but she didn’t answer. He texted her the
following day, asking if she wanted to get out that night, but she didn’t
respond to that either. He was a good kisser, but there was no way she would
ever date a black man and a short one at that. A week later, Tom had called,
apologizing for being a fool, and wanting to get back together. The next time
she saw Calvin he was bussing tables at a restaurant downtown when Tom had come
home for Thanksgiving.
**********
“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.
The problem was 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. It’s 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 a 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.
“Help me in.”
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’d be relying on the walker soon and a wheelchair soon
thereafter.
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 that 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 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.”
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, definitely
longer than a footl long. 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.
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 handjob.”
“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 Tom’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. 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.”
“Okay. Sure, thanks.”
“Wear your bikini next time so you don’t get your clothes
wet. It would be easier if you just got in the shower with me.”
“Next time? Yeah, good idea,” she said, her eyes transfixed
on the huge cock laying across his thigh. She wasn’t about to wear her bikini
in the shower with him, but she had a modest one-piece. “Well, I’ll see it
tomorrow then… see you tomorrow I mean.”
“Yes, see you tomorrow. And Claire, thanks again.”
“Thank you… I mean, you’re welcome.”