Come here babe

I loved it when my wife would give me her best come hither look, asking me to join her in bed.

“Give me a minute, I just want to check the doors.”

“Hurry up, I’m getting lonely.” she purred.

I didn’t need much more encouragement than that. I think I set a land speed record going downstairs to make sure the doors were locked before sprinting back upstairs three at a time to join my wife in bed.

I got to the bedroom door and had to stop when I looked at her. She was still beautiful after over ten years of marriage and three kids. Sure she had gained a little weight in the past decade; having children tends to do that. But that didn’t take away from how she still looked. If anything, I thought she was even more sexy now than when we were first married. I couldn’t identify what it was, maybe she looked more womanly, more curvy. Whatever the reason, I knew I still got as turned on by her as I ever had. And seeing her in her silk maroon negligee, with her breasts pressing their fullness against the diaphanous material, made me lust for her as much as I had on the day we met.

To add to her still sexy charms, this woman, sprawled out seductively across our king size bed, was just about the best wife and mother any family could hope for. Ignoring any of her physical assets, I could easily, and incredibly happily, spend the rest of my life with her based on her warmth, kindness, and caring. Not to mention that with her wit and intelligence, she always managed to keep me on my toes and very much in line.

“Doors are locked, kids are asleep, and you’re all mine.” Yes, it was a dumb thing to say. I never could think straight when I was horny.

“Get to bed,” she mocked a stern countenance. “Hurry up and we can see the ball drop, it’s quarter of twelve.”

“That’s nothing. Once I get my jockeys off, you’ll get to see two balls drop.”

She scrunched her nose up in the disapproving way she sometimes does when I make some of my stupid little jokes.

I finished getting undressed and lay down next to my wife, feeling the silky smoothness of her body against mine. We kissed passionately and I began fondling her ample breasts. I nuzzled at her neck and lost myself in her silky blond hair. Cupping her breasts, my fingers found her nipples, already stiff from anticipation, and pulled on them roughly, in the way I knew she liked. I pulled the negligee’s thin strap down, freeing that breast, and clamped my lips to the stiff peak. Karen sighed at the feelings my tongue was giving her nipple and she hiked the material up to her waist to give me better access to her pussy. As I inserted my middle finger into her moist slit, she thrust her hips up wantonly to meet my fingers.

With her free hand, she firmly grabbed my cock and stroked it to match the rhythm of my finger fuck. I added a second finger and increased my speed and she began to shudder with her first orgasm of the evening.

“Oh, baby,” she whispered. “Get up here and give it to me now.”

I maneuvered myself between her legs and rubbed myself against her moist vulva before lowering myself into her. She grunted as I bottomed out and when she started licking my neck I thought that my orgasm was near as well. Fortunately for me, the annoying drone of the New Year’s Eve Times Square broadcast helped me focus my concentration so I could last more than a few minutes.

We established a nice rhythm with Karen lifting herself upward to meet my thrusts followed by me withdrawing almost all the way, only to bottom out again. I alternated sucking and nibbling each of her taut nipples as we continued our metered fuck. When I brought my right hand down to Karen’s clit, she began to convulse in orgasm almost immediately.

I continued plundering my wife’s pussy as the announcer on the TV was counting down. 10…9…8…I withdrew almost all the way …7…6… I drove myself all the way back in …5…4… Karen started panting and was coming for the third time this evening …3…2… I could feel myself getting nearer to my own release, as well …1… Happy new year!

I continued to pound myself into her as she was coming down from her orgasm.

She looked up at me and smiled. “Happy new year.”

“Happy new year, hon.” I kissed her tenderly.

“Actually, happy new century and millennium,” her eyes sparkled as she smiled at me.

“Well, actually, it isn’t really the new century or millennium — that’s going to be next year. The year 2001 is actually the…”

“John, just shut up and fuck me.”

Who was I to argue.

I stopped my ramblings about the actual turn of the millennium when I noticed that I was losing my erection. I tried to speed things up to get it back, but that was to no avail. I was in the middle of fucking my sexy and incredibly turned on wife and I was losing wood. How the fuck did something like that happen? I had thought that my little speech about the year 2001 had made me lose my focus, but now I was fully concentrating on any lustful and dirty thought that popped into my mind and I was losing the battle. For the fist time in the history of man the big head was winning the battle with the little head — and at the most inopportune time, too.

“Honey, is something wrong?” Karen looked into my eyes with a concerned glance.

“I don’t know…I just…” I was really at a loss for words.

“Well, did you come?” she asked hesitantly.

“No”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes I’m *sure*,” I snapped. “I’d know it if I came. There’s would be a puddle of semen somewhere right about at the junction of our genitals. Not to mention the intense feeling that accompanies the whole process. I’d *know* if I came. I think I just…I just lost my erection.” I rolled off of her and sighed deeply.

“Let me do something about that,” she looked up seductively as she rolled over and grabbed my now flaccid penis and ran her tongue around the glans. She enveloped it all with her mouth and began to suck from the base with the tip just the way she knew I liked it. Usually this sort of thing would have had me erect within seconds, but today there was nothing; not a twitch, not a movement — nothing. After about five minutes of no response, I tapped her shoulders to come up to lay with me.

Karen scooted up and brushed her hand against my cheek. “It’s ok honey. That happens to everyone at one point or another.”

“Well, I doesn’t happen to me. At least it didn’t, or never had.” I shook my head in self-disgust. “But this is nuts. This isn’t supposed to happen in the middle of sex. Guys don’t lose their erections while they’re fucking. If some temporary impotence sets in, it happens before they even get hard — not in the middle.

“It’s probably nothing honey. Let’s not worry about it.” Then she looked at me coyly. “There’s still something you can do for me, if you’re up…er, if you want to.”

Figuring that there wasn’t much I could do about my situation, I concentrated solely on Karen’s pleasure. I slid my body down hers and licked my way from her breasts to her vulva. I first placed one, then two fingers within her vagina and began a slow finger fuck while I licked and sucked on her engorged lips. As she started rolling her hips I took the cue and teased her by licking all around her clit without making contact. After tormenting her for a couple of minutes, she started thrusting her pussy up into my face, trying to get me to make some — any — contact with her clit. Seeing that she was needing release, I concentrated my attentions on her sensitive hooded pearl and fairly attacked it with my tongue. In less than a minute she was squeezing my head with her thighs and screaming out her orgasm.

And throughout all of that, I had no reaction whatsoever from my penis. Usually, eating pussy was enough to give me a raging hard on, but tonight, it just sat there like a wet noodle. I didn’t want to let on to Karen how concerned I was, but I think she read it in my eyes.

We just held each other, silently, for the longest time afterward. We both were afraid to say anything to each other. I know I really didn’t know what to say about the situation. I was really embarrassed about it, and was just hoping that it was a one-time event. As wonderful and caring as my wife was, I still felt a little awkward facing her after this.

With these thoughts and worries I managed to fall asleep, insecure with the knowledge that I’d greeted the new millennium impotent.

Several days passed and nothing had happened. There was no sign of life at all in my penis. No twitch when my wife would walk up behind my chair in my office and kiss me hotly on the back of my neck. No rush of blood to my shaft when she’d stroke me under the covers at night or snuggle her back to me in the ‘spoon’ position. Even my morning erection, ever the faithful companion since I was about ten years old, had deserted me. It was gone like a puppy that had run away from home — and I was the poor child who sat by the window day after day hoping, praying, that he’d come back to me.

It’s funny, but I think I missed my morning erection the most. It was the ever-present faithful companion that would say, “Wake up John. You have a happy and fully functioning pecker, now get out of bed, take a big piss, and greet the day.” Now what did it say, “Think of it this way, your appendix and tonsils have company now.” All I wanted to do was roll over and go back to sleep. Wake me when they back the hearse up to the house.

“Babe, it’s been five days. I think you should call the doctor.” Karen suggested one morning sympathetically as I was getting ready for work.

“Maybe it’ll get better,” I hated going to the doctor, and I’d do anything I could do to forestall a visit.

“John, it’s *not* getting better. There’s been nothing for five days. I’m getting worried.” Then she smirked, “besides, if you don’t go to the doctor, I’m going to have to join the battery-a-month club.”

“Ok. Ok. Call up the office and make an appointment for me…God this is so embarrassing. I feel like Bob Dole.” I knew in my heart of hearts that I needed to go; I was truly getting unnerved that nothing had happened over the past five days. Thirty four was way too young for Viagra.

————

The doctor prodded, poked, had blood drawn, had me pee in a cup and topped the whole pleasant experience off by shoving his finger up my ass. The least he could have done was buy me a couple of drinks first.

But the utter embarrassment of his examination was actually eclipsed by the questions that he asked me afterward.

— How often do you masturbate?

— Rarely…well maybe a couple of times a week. Ok, sometimes more than that.

— Do you have any vacuum tube devices that you use on your penis?

— I don’t even know what those are.

I felt like saying, “That’s not my bag, baby,” in a smarmy fake British accent but figured the doctor’s office wasn’t the place for Austin Powers humor.

— Are you a heavy drinker or drug user?

— I don’t take drugs. I drink a little, maybe a glass of wine or two with dinner occasionally. Oh, yeah, I drink a fifth of bourbon before I get dressed in the morning, just to get the blood flowing — just kidding.

He looked at me with derision. Some people just have no sense of humor — either that or that’s how he started his days and I struck a raw nerve.

— How often do you have sex?

— Maybe once or twice a week. More if we can get a babysitter.

That’s not to imply that I was having sex with the babysitter.

— Do you only have sex with your wife or do you have multiple partners?

— No, I’m as monogamous as you can get.

— Do you only have vaginal sex or do you have sex orally and anally as well?

— Mostly vaginal and oral, but once in a while we have anal.

When were these questions going to end? This was mortifying.

— Do you ever stick anything up your urethra?

— *What*?!?

What the hell kind of a question was that? Was this guy serious? I felt like saying, “have you?”

— Do you ever stick anything up the urethra?

— No, doc. That’s an exit, not an entrance.

— Have you ever had unprotected sex with a high risk person?

— No, I haven’t had sex with anyone but my wife for the past 13 years.

The questions were almost as embarrassing as my reason for being at the doctor.

“Well, John. I see nothing wrong with any of your tests at all. I can’t figure it out. You’re in great shape. Good sugar levels, blood pressure is perfect. I don’t get it.”

It was always refreshing to hear your doctor say he didn’t know what was wrong you. I made a mental note to check his diploma on the way out. With my luck, this guy was a proud graduate of the University of Margaritaville somewhere in the Abacos Islands.

“Do you have any guesses?” I was fishing for anything.

“Well, let me get your records. Maybe there’s something in there that will help.” He opened the door to the exam room and addressed his nurse, “Amy, can you get Mr. Adams’s records from the file room please. Thanks.”

Then he turned back to me and gave me an apologetic look.

“This is going to take a while. Amy has to go downstairs to our record room. We had all of our medical records on computer, but it turns out that the computers weren’t Y2K compliant. $13,000 for an entire office system and we can’t even get it up.”

The nurse returned with my records, and the doctor looked them over with a furrowed brow. I was not encouraged.

“John, I can’t find anything in your history that would indicate to me what the problem is. I’m going to refer you to a urologist for a complete workup. If he comes up with nothing, then I suppose it could be psychological. It’s not uncommon for men your age. High pressure jobs. Lots of stress. Burning the candle at both ends… The urologist I’m referring you to is one of the best there is in the nation, if he can’t find the problem, then it can’t be found.”

As I got dressed, I wasn’t sure if I was encouraged or scared shitless by his last statement.

I left the office and headed home, blowing off the rest of the day of work. I wasn’t in the mood to go to the office and be nice to all of those guys with their functioning penises. Besides, the world wasn’t going to stop spinning if another stripmall or planned community was a day late in being designed.

I called my wife from my car as I worked my way through midday traffic. While I listened to the phone ringing I thought that if only my problem were as easy to diagnose as my doctor’s computer system I’d be a much happier person. That’s it, I laughed, he can’t get his computers up — just like me. Maybe I wasn’t Y2K compliant either, I chuckled to myself. If it only could be that simple.

“Hello.”

“Hi, hon. How’re you doing?” I asked, really not sure how to broach the subject of the test results.

“Never mind about me. What did the doctor say?”

“He said I should buy you lots of batteries,” I tried to ease the tension. “Actually, he couldn’t find anything wrong. He’s setting me up with a world class urologist at Mass. General. He said if he can’t find the problem, nobody can. Which may or may not be a good thing.”

“Oh, John…” she sighed sympathetically and then tried to sound cheerful. “I’m sure everything will work out and you’ll be fine.”

“Well, I hope so….Say, hon, do you know where my birth certificate is?”

“Your birth certificate? Probably in the safe deposit box down at the bank. Why?”

“Just a crazy idea I just had. Get the key and be waiting for me. I’ll run by and pick you up in about ten minutes.”

“What are we going to do?” she sounded apprehensive.

“I’ll explain when I pick you up. Bye.”

I drove through town, listening to the strains of the Beatles’ “A Day in the Life” on the radio. I shook my head as I sang along with the song, feeling sorry for myself. “Woke up, got out of bed, and my prick is almost dead.”

Karen was waiting at the door as I pulled up. We didn’t say anything for the first couple of minutes as I drove to our local branch, where we had our safe deposit box.

“Are you going to tell me what this is all about?”

“You’re going to think I’m nuts.”

“Trust me, it wouldn’t be the first time,” she grinned. “Just tell me.”

“Well, as crazy as this seems. I think I’m not Y2K compliant?” I didn’t dare glance in her direction.

“*What*?!? Have you been drinking?” She edged over and pretended to smell my breath.

“No. I’m perfectly lucid…well, as lucid as *I* get.”

“Babe, this is nuts. People can’t be Y2K compliant…or non compliant…or whatever it is. That’s computers, and based on your memory lately, you’re no computer.” She looked at me with the same pathetic glance that one reserves for the mentally imbalanced.

“Honey. I know it sounds crazy, but I was thinking that this all started right at midnight — right at the new year. It’s probably nothing, but I have to check this out.”

She sighed deeply and stared out the window, probably thinking that in addition to her husband being impotent, he was also losing his mind.

We retrieved our safe deposit box and the teller ushered us to one of those private rooms that looked just like a public toilet. The door didn’t go all the way to the floor, and the walls didn’t rise to the ceiling.

“Is it in there?” Karen asked anxiously.

I flipped through some papers. “Here it is…look. Just like I thought.” I replied excitedly — perhaps a little too loudly.

“What?”

“Look at the birth date. 5/15/65. Not 1965, just 65.”

“I still don’t see how this is affecting your…problem.”

“It doesn’t make any sense to me either. But I think we need to get down to the town hall and have a duplicate birth certificate made.”

She put all of the papers back into the box and we called the teller over to put it in the safe. “John…honey. I think you need to talk to someone…a professional.”

“Karen, I don’t need a hooker to solve my problems. You’ve always been *more* than enough woman for me.” The last thing I was going to allow her to do was patronize me.

“I was talking about a therapist. Smartass.”

“Listen. I’m not nuts. I might be grasping at straws, but I’m not crazy. When this doesn’t work, I’ll go to the urologist on Friday. I just have to eliminate this as a possibility.”

Karen sighed and shook her head as we left the bank to go to the town hall. The clerk’s office was crowded as usual — but most of the people were waiting in the line for the building permits. There was only one person ahead of us in the birth certificate/marriage license line.

When we got to the clerk I asked for a replacement birth certificate. I handed over two pieces of identification and paid the clerk the five dollars. I made sure that the year 1965 was written on it clearly. She prepared the paperwork and a few minutes later returned with my brand new birth certificate.

“So, do you feel any different?” Karen asked, somewhat sarcastically as we left the clerks office.

“No. Nothing. But wait a minute. Let me go to the bathroom just to make sure.”

“*John*,” she whispered insistently. “You can’t be serious. You’re going to go and play with yourself in the middle of town hall?”

“No. I said I was going to do it in the bathroom,” I snickered. “Just wait out here for me. I should find out quickly one way or the other.”

Karen just shook her head derisively as I entered the men’s room. I walked into one of the stalls and locked the door. Despite treating this nonchalantly with Karen, I felt awkward and conspicuous as hell jerking off in a public rest room. I was relieved that I was the only one in there.

I took a deep breath and unzipped my fly and fished my flaccid penis out. Trying to think up the most erotic imagery that I could muster, I began playing with myself. I pulled, stroked, tugged, and did everything short of pleading and praying before I gave up and realized that I was just fooling myself into thinking that my problem was so simple as to be solved by getting another birth certificate.

I sat down on the toilet in resignation and pulled the two documents from my pocket and looked at them in disgust. I shook my head at my foolishness. What the hell was I thinking? Maybe Karen was right, maybe I *was* crazy. Out of frustration, I took the old one and ripped it into several pieces. I laughed at myself as I flushed the remnants of it down the toilet.

I stood and started pulling my pants up. I adjusted my limp member in my jockeys when for the first time in almost a week I felt a twitch. I quickly pulled down my underwear and started stroking myself. As if it were a miracle, my once and future erection began to grow, hardening with each stroke.

“Karen,” I yelled. “Can you come in here for a minute?”

“John,” she peeked her head in the door just enough to avoid yelling. “You’re in a men’s room. Just hurry up. I know you’re upset, but we’ll talk about it at home.”

“Just come in here.” I repeated insistently. “Lock the outer door if you want.”

I could her an exaggerated sigh as she walked into the men’s room and quickly came over to my stall. “This better be good.”

I opened the door and stood directly in front of her, my manhood pointing proudly in her direction. “Get in here before anyone comes in.”

“It worked John? I can’t believe this.”

“Well, believe it. Mrs. Adams, congratulations, your husband’s just given birth to a seven and a half inch erection.”

I sat back on the toilet and started to lift up her skirt. Before she realized what was happening, I had her pantyhose down to her knees.

“John, what are you doing?” she shrieked.

“No time like the present.” I grinned at her lasciviously as she decided that she had better get it while the getting was good and kicked off her shoes and pulled down her pantyhose and panties.

I lifted her on top of me and she eased herself down on my prick. She moaned as she enveloped me fully and started rocking herself against me. There was something so sexy — so risque — about the way her skirt was bunched up around her waist as she rode me in the stall. We had never been a couple who was into public sex, but the entire situation was an incredible turn on.

As she bobbed her hips up and down on my newfound erection her breathing became very ragged. She sped her pace on my lap and the quickened movement combined with my pent up frustration of the past week hastened my release as well. Karen stiffened and tried to muffle a squeal as her orgasm came, and the contractions that her pussy made on my cock sent me over the edge as well. I erupted powerfully into her spasming vagina, releasing a week’s worth of frustration in one powerful shot.

Spent, we just sat together without speaking for the next several minutes, enjoying the wonderful afterglow that we felt as my softening penis fell from her pussy.

I kissed her tenderly on the lips as she tried to stand without making her skirt a come-soaked mess. She was only partially successful.

“Oh God, that was incredible.” Karen panted as she picked up her pantyhose from the floor and threw them into her purse.

“Amazing,” I puffed in agreement. “Well I guess I can cancel that appointment with the urologist on Friday.”

“Yeah, but take the day off of work just the same,” she leaned over and gently bit my earlobe. “I have plans for you.”