Just to show all you wimps that are afraid to go for it that there really is life after losing them
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Coming to Terms by Kortpeel After a lot of thought I decided to leave Dave. I'd had as much as I could stand of his neglect and philandering. Those panties in his car weren't mine and that was the last straw. By mid afternoon I'd got most of my clothes into two suitcases and was closing the door behind me when the phone rang. I wanted to ignore it but I can never let a phone ring unanswered. Andie who works with Dave sounded in a state of shock. "Sally, Dave's been hurt. They've taken him to the General. Looks bad." I left my suitcases in the house and drove to the hospital. Andie had rung off as soon as he had blurted out his message. I'd have ignored it and gone my own way as planned except for the panic in Andie's voice. Not that his panic meant anything. This sort of thing with Dave happened from time to time. Usually he was somewhere too drunk to drive home and he expected me to collect him. I'd put up bail and picked him up from the police station on two occasions. So what would it be this time? Probably he'd got into a fight and received a blood nose. Serves the bastard right was my thought as I entered the hospital. The nurse on reception was unusually helpful as she directed me to Casualty. The nursing sister who met me there was extremely courteous but she wouldn't answer my questions or tell me what Dave was up to. She just gave me a cup of terrible coffee and asked me to take a seat "Doctor will be here shortly." The man in the bloody green gown took off his mask as he approached me. "Mrs Dawlish?" He looked tired and sad. In fact my guess was that he was at the end of his rope. He collapsed into the seat next to me and tried hard to be nice but he no longer had the energy. "Thank you for coming. Hope we haven't kept you too long." "Not at all. What's my husband done now?" "He's alive and he has a chance." For the first time it dawned on me that this was perhaps serious; something more than one of Dave's stupid pranks. "A chance of what?" "Of pulling through. Staying alive." "What happened?" "Apparently a truck delivering lengths of pipe was reversing down a slope. He saw Mr. Dawlish in the way and stopped. The pipes didn't." "Pipes?" what the hell did pipes have to do with Dave? He's a real estate agent. "The pipes penetrated the abdomen and did some damage to his internal organs. There was massive internal bleeding" "Oh God!" "We fixed him up as best as we could. Now it's touch and go." "When will you know?" "If he's here this time next week he'll probably pull through. I'd prepare for the worst. His heart stopped twice. We were able to revive him but a third time …" The Doctor was shaking his head. He seemed very doubtful about Dave's chances. "Can I see him?" I didn't recognise the plaster encased dying man on life support in intensive care as my husband. "Why all the plaster?" "Fractured pelvis, three ribs and both femurs. Possible spinal damage too." This couldn't be Dave. Dave was full of life, cocky, arrogant, irritating, smug, infuriating. That's how he'd been this morning when he left the house. I felt my eyes watering. His life hung by a thread for a month but he survived. It was another two months before they took the plaster off and Dave learnt to walk again. It was about fourteen weeks after the accident that I was allowed to take my frail, convalescent and barely able to walk husband home. He'd changed. The devil-may-care arrogance was gone. He was nervous and unsure of himself, pathetically grateful to me for staying with him and for anything I did for him. I didn't say anything about being on the point of leaving him when he'd been hurt. I judged that he wouldn't have been strong enough to take it. Financially we weren't too badly off. Dave had bought a lot of insurance from some of his clients as a return favour for their business. At the time he never expected he'd need it but it paid the medical bills. I'd kept my job and Dave's commissions that came in after the accident had gone straight into his bank account. Dave tried to be independent. He insisted on bathing and dressing himself. He worked with dogged determination at getting his strength back. What wasn't there any more though was his old cockiness. He was subdued, almost insecure. It was another four weeks before I judged that Dave was recovered enough to stop acting like a convalescent. He could walk ok, seemed strong enough and all his wounds from the accident were healed. He was curiously shy though, most unlike Dave. In the end I had enough of his pussy-footing and walked in on him as he was getting out of the bath. I took the towel from him and proceeded to dry him off, like we used to do to each other when we were newlyweds. It had been fun and had always led to sex. As in those days I dried Dave from the top down and the bottom up. It was when I got to his genitals that I got a shock. The Mighty Thor, as Dave liked to call it, was a shrivelled limp shadow of its formal self. His scrotum was a tiny empty wrinkle hiding behind his penis. "Oh my God! Dave, what's happened to you?" "They're gone. When they took the plaster off that's how it was." Maybe it was the shock. I just burst out laughing. Looking back afterwards, I think that was the best thing I could have done. Dave thought he had suffered a mortal loss and there was nothing left to live for. It hadn't occurred to him that there was any humour in it. I sat Dave in the kitchen and started to make him a coffee. He felt relieved that his secret was out and the very worst, being laughed at, had happened. He was still nude from his bath. "Look honey, if you want a divorce I'll understand." "Dave -" "No hard feelings or anything." I put his coffee cup on the table and hugged him. "Now listen to me. I don't want a divorce. I love you Dave. I want us to stay together and grow old together." "Sweetheart, you married a man and now you've got a … a eunuch. I can't fuck you and I can't get you pregnant. We always wanted kids and now -" "Dave, there's a lot more to us than sex. I want you around. To be with me. I want to laugh at your jokes and you to cheer me up when I'm depressed and things are bad. I want your company. I want us to do things together. That's what marriage is." "What about kids? And sex?" "Dave, it's more than six months since we had sex. It hasn't been a problem for me." And then, because it occurred to me that men thought in terms of physical sex, I added with a shy smile "Besides, you were always pretty good with your fingers and tongue." Dave understood that. He smiled too and it was his first real smile since the accident. Over the next few months life with Dave was as good as being married can get. He was always home except for work. There was no more philandering and the absence of worry was a pleasure in itself. He did his best to please me sexually and for once in his life was open to instruction in that area. Of course I was very tactful and my pleasure was his reward. He helped around the house, was kind and considerate, even attentive. I made him visit his GP who prescribed testosterone for him and Dave was as near normal as he could be. Even old Thor could stand again though not with his former mightiness. Gradually Dave's lovely, dry sense of humour returned and there was laughter in the house once more. Neither of us mentioned children. Instead we treated ourselves to a vacation. We stayed at a coastal resort and relaxed in the sun. It was during a tanning session on the beach loungers Dave said "While we're here, would it be possible for you to get some baby juice out of one these guys?" "You sure Dave? Is that what you want?" "Yeah. It is." His voice was husky and when I saw that Thor was making a bulge in his costume. I realised that Dave meant it. I had a sudden vision of a lovely hard prick ejaculating inside me and the sperm heading for my womb. I was surprised at how pleasurable the idea was. I realised I'd been missing those ejaculations. "Ok my love. I'll see what I can do." My voice wasn't quite right either. The guy cleaning the pool on his student vacation job was about nineteen, six years younger than me. He'd caught my eye when we arrived because he reminded me of Dave at that age. Outrageously fit, tanned and he exuded that cocky self confidence that Dave used to have. He even looked a bit like Dave. Same build, same colouring. Knowing how good I looked in my two piece I walk up to him. I felt like a hunting lioness stalking her prey. "Hello." When he looked up there was a cute smile and to my delight he looked just a little nervous. Guys of that age may not be the greatest lovers but they are prolific. I milked Vernon to the last drop that holiday and he was more than willing to give it. I was happy for him to assume that I was just a randy woman on holiday and that he was the man for me. It wasn't altogether untrue. However, there is a statistical side to my nature: I managed to get thirty two full creamy ejaculations from him into me. Probably just one would have been enough. Dave gave me plenty of room and got a vicarious pleasure from my accounts of what went on. He wasn't at all jealous and wanted graphic detail. Men are funny like that. When he was philandering I hadn't wanted to know. All through the pregnancy Dave was supportive. When our beautiful, healthy daughter was born he accepted her immediately. "How many shall we have?" he asked me, gazing with love at his baby. "Dave, I took a risk getting pregnant. Any more will be conceived in a clinic. Now that we're parents we can't take chances." "Ok. Pity though. I quite enjoyed our trip last year." "Well we can still go on holiday." "Yeah." Only later did I realise what Dave really meant. He'd liked me having extra marital sex. I thought about that and was a bit troubled by it. I wasn't quite sure how to react. Dave on testosterone was perfectly adequate for all my needs in that respect and my marriage and daughter were the very essence of my life. So we went on holiday again the following year. My parents were delighted to look after Claudia while we were away. Same place, same vibe, same lovely sunshine, different pool attendant. I felt surprisingly disappointed until I found Claudia's biological father tending a beach kiosk selling ice creams and cold drinks. "Hello," he said recognising me and this time it was I who felt nervous. "I was hoping you'd come back again this year." Dave had said he was willing if I was. Carte blanche again. I wasn't sure. It was Vernon himself who helped me decide. "You know we took a hell of a risk last year." "With unprotected sex?" "Yes. I've had myself checked every three months." "So have I. I got so nervous I haven't been with anyone since." He didn't know I was married. "So you must be clean." "I guess so. You don't catch it by breathing." He looked embarrassed. "I haven't been with anyone either." We both looked at each other and there was complete understanding. It was a lovely holiday. Dave was happy for me to spend as much time as I wanted with Vernon and got excited rather than jealous when I told all. I toyed with the idea of introducing them but decided against it. And I didn't tell Vernon about Claudia. Maybe I should have. In twenty years or so he'll probably get one hell of a surprise. Vernon being a year older, I only managed to extract 28 of his full cream injections. It was enough. Nine months later Claudia had a sister. Dave insisted we call her Veronica. So now, after all that we went through, I have everything a woman can really desire: two children, a husband who is loving, attentive and guaranteed faithful, a nice home and a reasonable income. The irony is that Dave had to lose his testicles to bring this about. If he hadn't I'd be just another divorced woman looking for a second chance. I have no doubt at all that Dave is much better off as a consequence of that accident. He is a good husband and father, is proud of his kids and he has a stable, loving home life. He has come to terms with his lowered virility and no longer needs to prove himself with silly machismo: chasing skirt, getting drunk or acting like the stupid hooligan he once was. I'd never admit it to him but I get a kick out of controlling Dave's testosterone level. Usually I make him wear his patch for an hour or so in the evening. This gives him enough hormone to get weakish erections and to prevent him from developing eunuchoid characteristics such as a pear shaped figure or enlarged nipples. The skin on his face is softer and his facial hair growth is minimal. He only needs to shave once a week. His libido is a lot less than it was. Sometimes, just for fun I get Dave's testosterone to a high level. It makes him randy, like the old Dave but when I see that he's going to start his old nonsense of drinking, hell raising and looking at other women I just let the level come down again. We always go on holiday once a year and Dave seems to like the idea of me having a little romantic adventure while we're away. I usually oblige him in that respect but now I always insist on a condom. I've never seen Vernon again. I wonder what happened to him.