Wrath and like do not exist in me. There is no wrath or lust or sloth or greed or gluttony or envy. Such emotions have fled from my father. My name is Pride. Hiromu Arakawa
He lay sleeping on the bed. A frail shadow of his strong successful self. The stroke had rendered him useless. He was unable to move his hands or legs and lay a dead cabbage on the bed. His eyes would follow her everywhere as she did all her duties, fed him, bathe him, comforted him. The world labeled him a cripple but she loved him. How could she not, her first crush and love, a young bride she had been, always in awe of this handsome man who was forever coveted and adored by women of all ages. He had swept her off her feet, wooed her and made her feel like a queen so how could she leave her king when he needed her the most. And she was the Empress who had made his home and hearth perfect, given him his wonderful heirs and wanted nothing to be but his life partner in all ups and downs of life.
He opened his eyes and saw her standing there. She dressed the way he always liked her, sexy and desirable. Carefully selecting lingerie that had been his gifts to her. His body might have weakened but she kept herself in shape for him. He might never be able to tell her but she knew he wanted her as much as she wanted him and she had vowed to keep the passion and fire alive between them. It was now time for his massage, which she refused to let anyone else do for him. He needed the loving touch, the feel and warmth which would awaken his dead nerves and fill his lifeless veins with the vitality it needed. She trusted herself enough to know that she was the only one who could revive him. Life might have tendered him a broken bird denied the flight of the vibrant soaring skies but she would be his wings, making him soar wherever he imagined.
He stood eyeing her with desire as she slowly started peeling off the thin negligee she was wearing. Faint instrumental music playing in the background, curtains pulled in to make the bedroom look dark and seductive. She had lit the aromatic candles, as they spread their essence of romance and played around like naughty elves casting and hiding the light. She was like a vision dancing and swaying to the gentle beats, an orgasmic treat to the eyes. Her eyes slightly shut and hair long hair cascading like waves, she started touching herself the way he did. Ran her hands slowly over her breasts, helping the transparent, translucent sheath fall slowly off her shoulders on to the ground. His eyes came alive and she knew he was with her. She started dancing seductively now to the music, to their song and could almost feel him making love to her.
He had been a hot blooded lover and her nipples tightened up in anticipation as her tongue rolled on her own lips, feeling his touch! She took some of the aromatic oil and slowly let it drip over her body. The thin line of oil made it’s way on her breasts, teasing her nipples and breasts as they continued their journey on her magical stomach. Her eyes closed which the other hand slowly massaged herself. Rubbing her breasts languidly, teasing and pinching her nipples while the oil moved with a life of it’s own towards her fully awakened rose buds. She seemed almost unreal and her movements felt like an imaginary lover who was completely feeding off the delicious and tempting fare that she offered.
Her fingers started running all over the mouth of her arousal as she started giving them the love and touch they longed for. She was moaning and writhing as he watched her come to a life of her own and finally shuddered in climax. Oh, he might not even touch her but being with him made her be the most alive she had ever been. The oil on her body made her glow like a nymph as she now moved towards him. Her swaying hips and wild gypsy body now moved towards the bed as she undressed him. It was time for his massage. The soft satin night dress she made made specially for him came off the body. She was as gentle with him as a new born baby. He deserved it, he created that intensity of love within her.
She gently sat on his stomach as she poured oil on his bare chest. Slowly she allowed the oil to trickle on his body, making it glisten and shine and starting languidly rubbing and massaging him. She was almost riding him, her breasts swinging and voluptuous as he gazed her from below. She was wanton and alive, completely satisfied even though he could not even touch her. She now bent down and started placing kisses all over his face. His forehead and nose and eyes and finally on his lips. He felt warm and she could taste the trickle of saliva that never stopped flowing. She ran her tongue on his ears, nibbling him and biting as her tongue felt all warm and crazy. She finally was lying all over his body, touching him completely as she felt her release.
Oh she loved him, and he was her man in spite of the fact that he could never be manly again. She had devoted her life to him, tending and caring to all his need as she loved being his wife. It was her pride which had made her turn a blind eye to all his extra needs. She had swallowed her pride and accepted all his flings and need for hot sexy women who he flaunted openly, threatening her with divorce, humiliating her, throwing money for her needs as she patiently waiting for him to understand her love for him and accept her as the most important woman in his life which now he did. She was his queen and she could never have enough of him and she thanked God everyday for giving her a chance for putting him in this lifeless pitiful condition. It didn’t take much, just a few pills in his drink. Some would say this was wrong but this was the only way he truly belonged to her. And she would make sure he never got back on his feet to restart his philandering ways.