Dear Tom:
I can’t begin to tell you how excited I was that you answered my e-mail. I found you through one of those “classmate finder” sites and, what a surprise, discovered that you were an international reporter for California’s big city newspaper! And you’re also writing a novel! I’m not surprised. In school you seemed destined for greatness with your double major in English and Journalism.
It’s hard to believe that was nine years ago! The last time I saw you was on graduation day from State when I sat next to you. You probably don’t remember, but you were such a hero of mine: tall, good-looking, but – most of all – nice. And I was such a geek! Not just because I studied computers, but because of my mousy brown hair, glasses, baggy clothes and anti-social behavior. I was afraid to look people in the eye, and you must remember how I covered my crooked teeth with my hand when I smiled.
But you were so sweet, and always ready with a kind word when I was down. About how pretty my green eyes were…or how soft my skin was (but you only touched my hands, darn it!). Now that we’re thirty (and you’re married), I’ll admit that you made my day whenever I caught you looking at my legs when I wore a skirt. I sweated bullets at night trying to think of a way to get you really interested, but of course I considered you so far above me. I was also a virgin’s virgin (at 20!), and an awkward one at that.
Anyway, after graduation the job market was unappealing. A B.S. in Computer Science doesn’t get one much. So, I went on for the M.S. and the Department hired me as a T.A. As an undergrad I’d always been broke so, with my new income, I got a serious makeover: had my teeth straightened, streaked my hair with blond highlights, learned how to do makeup, got contact lenses, and bought a new wardrobe. What a difference! It took no time for me to lose my virginity to a nerdy Assistant Professor, and I soon became enthralled with sex! Also, I finally got some self-confidence, enough to start dating.
But I hated that absurd custom. I’d always considered it so artificial. When I got my IT job here in Oregon I refused to engage in it. I made friends of both sexes and had an adequate social life, but I despised the old mating dance, and turned down virtually all offers. At the same time, as I said, I’ve turned into a highly sexed woman. It’s just that I’ve engaged in self-satisfaction…or periodically have found men whom I’d probably see only once and never again. The past few years I’ve become a real pro at one- or two-night stands.
That sounds awful, or at least pretty mysterious. Anyway, I won’t bore you anymore with my rambling. I hope it’s okay to e-mail Word files to you. And, I hope you’ll answer them. Now that I’ve found you after all these years, I’d like to stay in touch. If that puts pressure on you I’ll stop. I hope it doesn’t, because you’re one of my most favorite people in the whole world!
Anxious to hear from you. Tell me all about your novel!
Lois
* * * * * *
Dear Tom,
Once again, I’m thrilled to hear from you, so much so that I’m responding immediately!
I’ll try to give you some notion of what I’ve been doing but, if I start to wander, I hope you’ll understand. I feel as if you’ve re-connected me with my past, even though my past was never anything to brag about. One of its brightest memories was of you…your sensitive eyes…your quiet, reassuring voice…your gentleness. Honest to God…and honest to you…I’ve got to take a break right now. My nervous hands are shaking so badly I can hardly type.
Okay. It’s an hour later. I took a soothing shower and stuff and I’ve calmed down. Plus, I re-read both your e-mails and took a magnifying glass to the picture of our graduating class…the one where I stood next to you. You were so handsome!…and so sweet-looking. A young man with worlds to conquer!
That’s why just now I couldn’t believe your last note. The part about your divorce. I’m so sorry! Was your wife that tall, haughty, brunette sorority girl you were dating? I never knew her name, but I could see then that she might hurt you. She seemed so hard…so self-centered and shallow.
I was also surprised to hear more about the novel you’re writing. A bit “pornographic,” you said. I never would’ve guessed that you’d try something like that. You were always so straight!
I should talk. But now I feel a bit more free than before about telling you some of my secrets, especially since you’ve asked me to. There’s so much I’ve kept pent up inside – and over the years have thought about telling you if I ever saw you again – that I might sound a little crazy. But I respect and trust you so much that I’m going to do it anyway. If it gets to be too much, just be as honest with me as I am with you and tell me to stop.
Six years ago, after my M.S. degree, I got a job here at a large medical HMO as a senior IT technician. When I became a supervisor I found the work challenging, but I had lots of free time after hours. Not really into the drinking and dating scene, I volunteered to do evening patient care at the hospital connected with the Center. I ended up in the prosthetic ward, where people learn how to use artificial limbs. It was only a few weeks before I was hooked…hooked on helping the physically handicapped. There were just a few patients at first, then military men started showing up from Afghanistan, men whose arms and legs had been blown off and transferred from Walter Reed back east. The Center has a contract with the Veterans Administration, you see.
That was challenging! I found myself acting as a physical therapist, psychologist, mother, aunt, secretary, letter writer, and ecumenical pastor. After a couple of years, I confess – to you and only you – that I became a surrogate girlfriend to some. The first time I found my “hands-on services” needed I was almost as naïve as I’d been in college. The young man was 24 and absolutely darling. He was from North Carolina and his charm was infectious. Both of his legs had been amputated, one below the knee, the other at mid-thigh. He was making good progress with his prosthetics and was anxious to return home, where he planned to be married.
We’d become friends and I’d laughed at his incessant, innocent flirting, until one night when I reported in after work. The nurse in charge said he’d received bad news from home that day and that I should be empathic and supportive. I entered his room and he was turned away from me, apparently asleep. I touched his shoulder and he told me to go away. I asked if he wanted to talk and he said, “Not with a woman, especially a hot one like you!”
I’d never been told that I was “hot,” even though of late people have found me attractive. I touched him again and he turned over. His eyes were red from crying. Finally he told me he’d received a “Dear John” letter from his girlfriend. I did my best to cheer him up, and told him all the standard stuff about her “not being worth it,” etc. He just nodded his head as I stood next to his bed, trying to soothe him, speaking softly and caressing his hand. A couple of minutes went by and he began looking at me with that hungry, puppy-ish look that men get when they want a hug…or sex. I saw that he was getting excited. I mean, the bedcovers over his groin had started to bulge. He let go of my hand and reached over, very tentatively, to touch my tummy. I was wearing my full-length lab coat but it was undone, and underneath I had on a dress that buttoned from my neck down to its hem at my knees. He kept brushing his fingers over my stomach, and I didn’t move away. I felt the blood pounding in my ears as I got excited, and stepped toward the bed, letting him kind of pull at the buttons on my dress. I felt a numbness inside, was tingling all over, then my panties got damp. I felt so sorry for him, and I knew that he wanted me (can you imagine? Me, the timid little geek!), so I stepped even closer to him. That single, simple act was pivotal in my life as I look back on it.
My ears were ringing as he undid a couple of buttons near my navel. I jumped a little when he gently caressed my bare skin underneath. I remember myself moaning and him whispering, “Skin’s so soft.” My tummy trembled at his touch and he undid another button to slide his hand all the way inside. I recall breathing hard, and that my knees started shaking as he stroked lower and lower, finally slipping his fingers inside my bikini panties since I wasn’t wearing pantyhose. Our eyes were locked as he combed lower through my pubic hair. I licked my lips and grabbed onto the bed rail with both hands, whimpering. Finally he touched my labia and split them with two fingers, soaking them. He quickly pulled his hand out and licked it noisily, then stuck it back inside my dress. I whined, unabashedly spreading my legs and bending my knees so he could slowly slip his fingers into my vagina.
I was on fire, Tom! He whispered that my juice was like honey and I almost fainted. I was the only one who’d ever tasted my discharge before, and I’d never experienced oral sex – though I’d given guys head a few times – so I was a little surprised that I tasted good. Then, without a word he pulled back the covers and bared his cock. It was as hard as iron, poking through his pajama fly and sticking straight up at the ceiling. I was perspiring now, and it took no more than two seconds for me to reach over, fondle his dick softly, and start slowly masturbating him from balls to tip. His eyes closed and he got the sweetest smile on his face as my hand moved lovingly up and down his stiff cock. With my other hand I lowered the bed rail, allowing him to slide his gooey fingers in and out of my pussy. After that everything happened so fast. Though it was the last thing I ever expected to do, I leaned over and slipped my mouth over his prick and started sucking on him. Soon my head was bobbing up and down and I was hunching my crotch against his hand. We did that forever, it seemed like, but it was probably no more than five minutes, then we both came at the same time. It was heavenly! What amazed me was that as his hot, thick cum shot into my mouth I just swallowed and swallowed until he’d finished. I’d never done that before. It’s as if I couldn’t get enough of him! When we both stopped cumming my weak knees almost collapsed.
It was a close call, since I’d just finished buttoning my dress when the nurse came in for some reason. That had never happened before on the night shift. I excused myself and moved on to the next room, this one housing an older woman, but not before I told the guy that I’d see him the following night, which I may tell you about next time.
I hope there’ll be a next time. I’ve attached a recent photo to this file so you can see how my looks have changed in the past nine years. Please let me know if I’ve said too much, Tom.
Your special friend,
Lois
* * * * * *
My Dear Tom,
God, you’re flattering! My picture couldn’t have been that good! I’m still 5’6″ tall. Sure, I’ve changed a bit but I’ve always been kind of curvy (36C-23-37!), which my miniskirt and sweater show in the photo. When you knew me in college I had so little confidence that I always covered up my body with baggy old clothes!
Anyway, I’m glad you weren’t shocked by my little story about the guy in the hospital. I’m even more glad that you want to hear what happened after that, because it set a pattern for me that I still follow. I just had a flash: Are you going to put me in your porno novel?
As you know I couldn’t care less about “dating.” It always seemed to me like an elaborate sham to disguise its real reason for being, which is to bring people together so they can fuck (excuse my language!). Call me cynical, but if you can give me a better rationale, I’d welcome it. In my own way I’ve just cut short the process. I’m on birth control so I’m not contributing to overpopulation, and feel as if I’m doing something good for humanity. To make a long story short, I’m hung up on fucking people who are physically handicapped or disabled. My way is a lot more honest, my companions are easy to find, they’re free of disease for the most part (I try to choose carefully), and – my goodness – are they ever grateful!
Like the young guy in the hospital. The day after our little get-together I was out of my mind with excitement. I carefully selected a mini dress that barely made it past my crotch. It buttoned all the way up too, just in case he wanted to get to my breasts. I didn’t wear a bra, but I did choose a pair of sexy, lace bikini panties. All that day I kept my lab coat buttoned so my co-workers wouldn’t be the wiser. At the end of the day I stopped in the restroom at the hospital to pee before going to the prosthetics ward. In the stall I decided to lose my panties, which I stuffed in my purse. I’d gotten just a taste the night before. On this night I wanted the whole enchilada!
When I got to his room I was pleased to see him sitting in a wheelchair with his prosthetic limbs affixed. Our session the night before had obviously improved his mood, since he was all smiles. He told me he’d gotten permission from the PT tech to use the Physical Therapy room after 5 p.m. I’d done this before with other patients who needed extra practice walking with new limbs, and the PT tech trusted me so there was no problem.
Once inside the door we locked it and dimmed the lights to near dark. I unbuttoned my lab coat and his hands were all over me. I was standing next to him seated in the wheelchair, and he clutched my crotch to his face, lifting my skirt. He buried his nose in my pussy and began slurping away. I just closed my eyes and moaned as I held his head, spreading my legs slightly so he could lick my clitoris. I’d never in my life had anyone eat me, and I broke out in goose bumps and whined as he kept at it. I could tell the position was uncomfortable for him, though, so I suggested that we use a bench on one of the weight machines.
I helped him out of the chair onto his back, during which time he introduced himself as Gary, and he asked me to straddle him and sit on his face. I did so, supporting myself on the frame above his head, and gently squatted onto his ravenous mouth. That’s the night I fell in love with cunnilingus. As I’ve said, no one had ever done it to me and I was absolutely ablaze with desire! When I came, I came big-time! I’m glad hospital walls are relatively soundproof, because I screamed bloody murder! When I was finished I moved slowly down over his chest and onto his big rod. We fucked for what seemed like an hour. I came twice more and he dumped two huge loads into me before we were through. Up to that point, it was the best sex I’d ever had.
Gary and I continued our affair for the next month, then he was discharged. He wrote a few times, then his letters stopped. By that time, I’d found new friends, all veterans of the Afghan war. Except for the wonderful individual personalities, though, all of my G.I. relationships were the same. They loved me for the physical relief I provided, but their eyes were always on the future…when they were going home. As a result, I began to see myself as an unlicensed nurse who specialized in unconventional care, which didn’t bother me. I’d always been an unconventional person.
By the way, I don’t have any nude photos of myself, now that you’ve asked. Why would you want one of me? Is your novel illustrated? Since you’re newly divorced, you should have a hundred women after you! If I didn’t live 800 miles away, I’d be on your doorstep!
I’ll see what I can do about a picture of me naked, though. Should I be doing anything in particular? Just kidding…I think.
Lois
* * * * * *
Dearest Tom,
I couldn’t believe your response to my last letter! You’re such a naughty boy! I can’t believe I’m sending dirty pictures to a big city newspaper columnist, even if you are my friend of longest standing.
As you can see from the attached photos, I complied with your request. It wasn’t easy. I’m such a private person that going to one of those sex shops to buy a dildo was downright embarrassing! But while I was there I found a few other items that’ll make my life a bit richer. This is all for your benefit, you understand! Yeah…sure.
Well, you asked me to continue my story, so here goes! After my first fling with Gary there were others at the hospital, usually one at a time. Then came the Iraq invasion and the number of amputees skyrocketed. I found myself exhausted after three hours at the hospital, ministering to the various needs of some very sweet guys. Sexually, I sometimes helped two or three a night, those whom I reasoned might never get laid again because of their handicaps. At that point the PT tech approached me and asked if we could have dinner together. I asked him to my house, since I make a mean Fettucine Alfredo. His name is Joel, and in the middle of dinner he told me he’d heard I was giving “special treatment” to some of the vets, and that I ought to be very careful.
We talked about what to do and he volunteered to be my watchdog – listening for rumors among the troops – if I’d do the same for him. He told me he was gay, that he’d be fired if the word got out, and I could hardly believe it. Six feet-four, 230 pounds of solid muscle…and Joel is gay! I told him I’d squelch any rumors I heard about him, even lying to accusers, saying he’d been to bed with me. It was a clever smokescreen, but I became uneasy about the underlying threat to my job.
So, I decided to broaden my horizons. I’d heard through the grapevine that the HMO’s motor pool sold their old vans – the ones rigged to transport patients in wheelchairs, with other amenities – at auction when they reached certain mileage. The motor pool guy assured me that, if properly maintained, they possibly had another 100,000 miles of life in them. He also told me he could bend the rules and “pre-sell” one to me very cheaply. You know what’s coming, Tom. I could take my weird sex life on the road!
In the meantime I was busy with my “patients.” There was one kid who stands out, an amputee who’d lost a leg in an IED explosion. He could have been my brother: timid, geeky, yet anxious to prove himself by enlisting in the macho Marine Corps. He was tall and skinny, very intelligent, and loved my massages, which usually ended up in masturbation and fellatio. One night in the PT room I was helping him walk between the parallel bars, two horizontal bars that one can rest their arms on to take weight off their legs while getting used to their new prosthetic limbs.
I’ll quote what he said: “Tonight I want that succulent, round ass.” I told him I’d never done that and he pushed me harder, finally insisting that he’d tell the administration about my habits if I didn’t grant him his wish. I panicked, dropped to my knees between the bars and gave him what I thought was a world-class blowjob. But it wasn’t enough. Through sheer force of will (I tell myself), he had me turn my back to him and place my arms on the bars. Then he reached down and lifted my lab coat and skirt up to lay them on my back. I’d already fucked a guy down the hall that evening so I was without panties and a bit messy, but it didn’t bother this kid. He swiped his fingers up my slit and rubbed the goo onto my rectum, then spat a huge stream of saliva down onto my asshole.
For the next fifteen or so minutes he was rough, brutal in fact, and I thought he’d punch through my colon. The only pleasure I gained was from my fingers diddling my clit which, because of concentration, blocked out the pain and I was at least able to cum at the end, just after he’d filled my bowels with his hot spunk.