With that, he slid back down my body and got comfortable between my legs so that he could insert two fingers inside me and wiggle them around. This wasn’t anything new, since we did this during prep all the time, so I was a little confused at first. Then he made a motion that I imagine was like trying to scoop something out. He did it a couple of times before I yelped in surprise.
“Aha, found it,” he murmured in a smug tone. After that, he apparently made it his mission to rub and play with that spot until I was writhing and screaming into the bed. My whole body felt like it was melting, or perhaps sizzling from a mild electric shock.
Just when I was about to beg him to stop it and pound me already, my breath deserted me completely. Opening and closing my mouth like a fish out of water, I tried to inhale or exhale, only my body seemed to be unable to do anything except shake uncontrollably as pleasure like I’d never felt before washed over me. It felt like time stopped for a long moment before it abruptly resumed with sensation I cannot describe, even if I had to in order to save my life.
Suddenly I was squealing and trying to curl into a ball. “Oh God oh God oh God STOP!!!”
Dean stopped and got on his hands and knees above me so that he could press his mouth to his ear. “Did that feel bad? It sounded good – so good, in fact, that I’m pretty sure everyone in the building heard you – but now you’re crying…”
Which was true. I was gasping and panting for breath in a way that sounded like I was sobbing. I don’t think I could speak at the moment, so I shook my head and grunted. “Not. Bad…. Good.”
“Do you want me to untie you and let you recover, or do you want me to get back inside you until I cum?”
“In.Side,” I insisted, even though I think I might just be too sensitive at the moment. It’s just that if I was in his position, I’m dead certain I’d want to be inside me so bad I could cry, so it felt a little mean to tell him not to.
Thankfully, even though he must have been really worked up by our playing, he pushed into me slowly, maintained a slow pace that I could handle, and then leaned over and made love to my back as he thrust. I’m pretty sure I was purring with happiness at that point. It didn’t take long for him to bite down on my shoulder and pump me full.
If I wasn’t tied up with my face pressed into the bed, I would have kissed him. And then probably passed out. Fortunately, he still had the ability to move, because I could barely twitch. Had there been a fire just then, I’d have definitely perished.
Oh so tenderly, he untied me and helped me lay down properly in bed. He made sure the pillows were under our heads and the blankets over our bodies. Considering that I couldn’t move to save my life, it had to be a struggle for him to take care of everything, but then we were snuggled up and drifting off to sleep.
“Thank you for being willing to try new things with me,” I murmured, at least half asleep.
He huffed a soft laugh. “It’s more like thank YOU. Without you, I’d definitely still be a virgin!”
“Me too…”
We gave each other tiny little kisses until we both passed out.
***
Fifty Years Later
Present day
I sat reading a book in a chair next to our bed. Even as I read, I held Dean’s hand. He was in our bed hooked up to an IV and an oxygen tank. But not with a simple tube stuck in his nose. Nope, he needed a full face mask that covered his nose and mouth.
The relative quiet was interrupted when he started coughing. I immediately reached over to pull his mask off so that he could cough into a handkerchief that I held. I even helped him shift to the side a little so that I could rub and pat his back as he coughed.
When he was finished – for the moment – he slumped onto his back again. “Good morning,” I greeted even as I put his mask back on.
“Is it morning?” He asked in a rough and scratchy voice.
“Does it matter?” I asked as I looked over at the clock. “It’s 2:27 AM, so yes, it’s morning.”
He harrumphed. “You’re still as sarcastic as ever. I don’t know what I see in you…”
I laughed softly and squeezed his hand before bringing it to my mouth to kiss. “If we’d known back in the 70s how much the world was going to change, would we have lived our lives differently?”
He shrugged the best he could with his bedridden body. “I dunno. I feel like we lived pretty good lives.”
I grinned at him. “I think you mean lives so BAD that they felt good.”
“Same difference,” he murmured, trying to relax and remain calm; probably in an effort to hold off another coughing attack.
I decided that reminding him of the highlights might keep his spirits up. “We’ve had marriages and children. We bought houses right next to each other and called each other best friends. We had divorces and you smoked way too much while I drank way too much. We lived long enough for the world to change so that we could get married, and now we’ve grown old together. I suppose I really couldn’t ask for anything more.”
He harrumphed again. “Ha! I feel like I could ask for a cure for Emphysema. I’d also like a cure for your Cirrhosis, even though you’re not quite dying from it yet.”
I pressed his hand to my cheek and kissed his palm. “Even if we got cured, we probably only have a couple of years left in us anyway. Plus, you’d just smoke way too much and I’d drink way too much, and we’d be right back here in no time.”
He didn’t reply because that coughing fit he was trying to suppress overwhelmed him. Once again, I helped him as much as I could, but there was only so much I could do. Actually, there wasn’t anything anyone could do. He’d advanced to a point that he could go at any moment. That was why he was home with me rather than in the hospital.
Once his fit calmed down, he lay back with a weary sigh. “I hurt everywhere now, ugh! I’m so tired…”
“Mmm,” I hummed soothingly as I rubbed his arm.
“Hey Matt?”
“Yeah?”
“… I wonder… what death is like…” he murmured softly, giving me a steady look.
I took a moment to kiss his hand again as I thought this over. “…… Let’s find out…”
“Yes,” he agreed.
Letting go of his hand, I picked up the bottle of clear liquid from the bedside table. It was a strong painkiller intended to help him be as comfortable as possible until the end came. That said, it hadn’t really been helping him. Using a needle and syringe, I prepared four times more than the maximum safe amount to take, then I injected it into the port on his IV tube. He watched me with a light nod.
Once I was done, I considered tossing out the needle like I was supposed to and using a new one. Then I decided that that was ridiculous in this situation. Preparing a new extremely unsafe dose, I examined my left arm and wondered which vein would be best. I wasn’t a medical professional, and I had no idea what would happen if I screwed up. Eventually, I decided on a vein that looked big enough and easy enough to poke with the needle.
After I was done, I set the syringe aside and shifted until I was laying in bed with him.
“Love you Matt,” he murmured, his voice already sounding a little far away.