37 comments/ 75211 views/ 6 favorites Dying Brings Her Fulfillment By: RealDoc I was deep in thought as to how to begin telling you this story. Where should I begin? Some stories in here have lots of flashbacks which , if more than a few, really confuse me, On the other hand, I couldn't just write the story from the back forwards. That would make no sense at all. However, if I started at the uninteresting beginning, I might lose many readers in the details of a somewhat irrelevant history. Where to begin? My brother, a famous author, told me to just sit down and start writing, then go back and edit. So Here I go. Thanks to Techscan for editing. She was gradually developing more muscle weakness but still had her fighting spirit. I worried about her mental status what with the metastasis in her brain. She knew she was dying. We had talked about it extensively privately and with our pastor in attendance for support. She had gone through the stages of dying and now was at peace with herself. I made the difficult emotional journey with her. Perhaps I was not as prepared to lose her as she was prepared to die. My days were filled with both sadness and joy. Sadness for the impending death and loss of my life's partner. Joy for having developed such a deep bond of love. Although we had been married only a few years, I felt as if we had bonded like we had been married for fifty years. Facing death together was bitter sweet. We had been deeply religious all of our lives, strictly and joyously monogamous. The sorrow I felt had only increased the love we shared as her end loomed yet nearer and nearer. We had always been a touchy feely couple. This mutual need for soft, gentle and reassuring physical contact seemed to increase. Our sex gradually took on a more and more spiritual bonding aspect. The rough and ready type of sex we occasionally had enjoyed was left in the past as we truly made love now, and we still did it frequently. We were one in body and spirit. We both enjoyed cuddling and promising to give and received the intimate bond of trust. love and fidelity. The fidelity bit was implied as we both had always been firmly committed to our marriage vows. Neither had any thoughts of infidelity, or so it seemed. That was something we didn't have to reassure each other about. As it turned out, suddenly I was no longer at peace with her as I had been. What she now revealed as part of her immediate future was unbelievable to me. Her latest idea of cramming in all the experiences of a life time into the several remaining months, was suddenly revealed as quite different than what I anticipated. Yes, we had gone to Disney World and Epcot Center. We had also gone to several of the national parks and even to Washington DC. But this last idea of experiencing all that life had to offer had thrown the proverbial wrench into the gears and I was the one getting ground up. Strange how the ultimate changed her. The devil had invaded our garden of Eden and my beautiful sexy wife had taken a bite of the forbidden fruit. Now she thrust it to me. Was my reality hers? Hurt, initially confused, shock, unbelief and devastation all inundated me as these came careening and screaming down, trying to bury this former first lieutenant paratrooper unit commander. Now it is time for the flashback. We met four years ago. She was a vibrant blond, a first generation Swedish American. She spoke with a softness that completely captured my heart. Indeed she was a beautiful girl. To me, she seemed perfectly transparent in expressing her feelings. The mutual magnetism seemed divinely planned. She was medium height at five feet five inches and a robust 115 pounds of energy, enthusiasm and ardor. Her skin was almost translucent white. My mom said her skin was like 'milk glass'. Her blue eyes and dark blond hair gave her a picture perfect face. Her medium length hair had a way of floating softly behind her as she walked. Her hour glass body reeked of sexual attraction and eroticism. She was every mans wet dream come true, but she was only and always mine. As it turns out, she lost her innocence on our wedding night. I was totally enthralled. She took to me like a duck to water and I took to her like a duck to the proverbial June bug. We were a pair from the git go. She was an E.R. nurse in her first year on the job after nursing school. She was already experienced having worked as a nurses assistant in the same university hospital where I was in an E.R residency. It was in July, the first month of my first year out of med school that we met at work in the E.R. She was efficient and easily took command of some difficult situations. I was impressed as I to had had command experience earlier in my life. I was a bit older than her, having served in the military after college and prior to medical school. I had had command of an army platoon of parachutist. On one night time training jump at what was supposed to be at minimum jump altitude, we had bailed out but the pilot was below minimums. Of my platoon, three died and, to a man, all the others were injured, myself included with three fractured vertebra. Within six months I was prematurely discharged as "disabled" but in fact, I had no continuing disability. Just the record of the fractures on my record. This gave me great VA benefits which saw me through medical school. I was still six foot one but an inch shorter than when I enlisted and later commissioned via the ROTC. My weight had been maintained at 190 and constant workouts kept me physically fit. Sherrie and I hit it off immediately. She was fluent in Swedish as her first language and also German and of course English which she spoke with a distinct Swedish accent. Her parents spoke Swedish exclusively at home and Sherrie learned English only after beginning school. I spoke German fairly decently thanks to an early deployment to Germany plus my mother was a first generation immigrant German American. I learned Swedish from my attentive bride. We could and did converse in all of three languages We frequently made love making random use of each of the three languages we both shared. I might tell her how luscious her nipples and C cup breasts were in Swedish and she might respond in German about my manhood. However there is nothing quite so sensual as making love totally in Swedish. I had learned all the proper anatomical names of the human body in all three languages and Sherrie taught me the street names in Swedish while I taught her the street names in English and German We would giggle when I mispronounced in Swedish, parts of her anatomy. We enjoyed an active, varied and very fulfilling sex life together. Even though we had been married only three years now, we had still shared fantasies that we knew would never come about in real life. In fact, neither of us wanted the fantasies to become real. We had promised each other, our families and God that we would "forsake all others, clinging only to the other". We did this joyously. We fucked each others bodies in complete abandon and total confidence, enjoying every orifice to the full. Every room in our house had been baptized with our sex fluids. The back seat of our cars were not excluded either. We communicated our needs and desires exceptionally well. We loved God, our families and each other. Now our love had grown to include our bundle of joy and dirty diapers. During intercourse as my 8 plus inch thin cock with its upward curvature penetrated her warm tight vagina, I would whisper, 'this is Jerrod fucking you with my twelve inch massive black cock' and other such silliness. She would respond in another language by imploring Jerrod to go faster and deeper as she wrapped her legs around my waist, pulling me into her with her hands clenching my buttocks. We had learned how to pace ourselves so that many of our climaxes came together. I really liked for her to come first so that her vaginal spasms would take me over the moon and I would climax just as she was finishing her vaginal twittering and spasming. To sum it up, we enjoyed each others bodies, minds and souls. The birth of our daughter, Diane, put us on hold only for a few weeks. During this time I had purchased a vibrator to please her, and for her to please herself with until it was safe to resume vagina penetration. As a joke, I also bought a black penis style vibrator that also rotated at the tip. She wouldn't use it because she said it was to life like and implied infidelity. She used the other vibrator and we continued to use it even after we restarted vaginal intercourse. The black cock was relegated to the back of our clothes closet somewhere. Basically it was lost. Life was more than good. I completed the three year residency last year. We now worked the same shifts frequently and as often as the schedules permitted. Six months ago, as I was washing her back after a very satisfying afternoon sexual encounter. As I dried her off, having stepped out of the shower into the brighter light of the bathroom I noted a tiny black dot on her left shoulder blade (scapula). I rubbed it, thinking it was a bit of dirt I had missed. It didn't budge. I touched it with my bare finger and it was not flat like a freckle. I felt it again and it was imbedded in her skin. Thinking it was perhaps a bit of dirt I took the towel and dried her off harder only to find that it bled but didn't let loose. I became very concerned as her skin was very white and she didn't tan well. I said nothing to her at that time but I put on a small spot band aid and told her I had rubbed a mole to hard. It was at a place she could see only with a mirror so she had been unaware of it. The next day we were in the surgeons office where he immediately did a wide excision and sent the specimen off to the path lab. He took a handful of stitches to close wide excision. He told us to wait for the path report before thinking or doing anything else. It was only a week later that the sutures were to be taken out. When we returned for that, he had the path report. After removing the sutures and applying some steri-strips and light bandage, he invited us into his office for a conference. Sherrie and I both knew what he had to say as he had not said anything yet about the lesion being "benign". It was cancer of the worst kind. Not only was it a malignant melanoma but it had already deeply invaded in spite of its very small circumferential size. We all knew what that meant. (This type invasive melanoma is a killer.) She began to tear up as I held her. My heart was broken but the surgeon held out some hope for us. Seems that he was participating in a new research project using an approach which was in phase three clinical trials at the university hospital where we both worked and from which we both had our training. This new regimen involved changes in diet plus a combination of research medications. The side effects were largely unknown at this point. The human side effects were totally unknown but, hey, we both wanted our best chance so we decided to go for it. That very afternoon we visited the oncologist chief investigator and got signed up for the program. Many legal releases were signed. At this point, Sherrie underwent a series of blood tests and examinations including cranial CAT scans and upper endoscopies plus a variety of other imaging and lab tests to detect any metastasis. These tests all turned out negative for which we were very grateful. Nevertheless, the probability of metastases was high as the pathologic tumor grade was the highest, bad tumor markers were positive and the early deep invasion was a very bad prognostic sign. We decided to make the most of life as we had it. We had a will and legal papers drawn up for a living will with me as her terminal guardian. Sex became even more intensive as Sherrie made obvious efforts to enjoy life to it's fullest. Of course I didn't object. Three weeks after beginning therapy, Sherrie noted that her clitoris was enlarging as were her nipples. The oncologist made note of this but had little else to say as the medications were purely research and the side effects were just now being even recorded. Sherrie told me that her orgasms were intensifying as her clitoris enlarged and grew more sensitive. The same was true for her nipples which were changing color to a much lighter color. Her dark blond hair began to change to almost pure white as it grew out. She never lost her hair as many cancer patients do. Her deep blue eyes were becoming lighter. Her night vision began to decrease and the ophthalmologist told us her retinas, which are naturally black with pigment, were becoming pale. All these changes were medication induced. Sherrie worried about becoming blind but we were reassured that this would not happen. The medication was acting on the cells that produce melanin, the coloring that makes the skin tan and the melanoma black. The hopes were that these changes were protecting her from metastatic growth . Sherrie and I prayed for this separately and together. Our lives continued but Sherrie quit her E.R. RN job to stay with and enjoy our growing daughter. Sherrie's health seemed to be excellent. We were hopeful but secretly I knew both of us had the fear still. We talked about it but that didn't make it go away. We both tried to encourage the other with hope piling upon hope yet the fear of recurrence remained. Four months after the original surgery, I came home to find Sherrie lying on the kitchen floor in a state of almost continuous seizures. Our daughter was sitting next to her crying "Mommy, Mommy" and rubbing her arm. I had no idea how long this had been going on. I checked her pulse and respiration and was encouraged to find her quite alive but totally unresponsive except to deep pain from which she withdrew She was in a deep coma and still convulsing intermittently. Her life was in imminent danger. Immediately I called 911 and in only four minutes she was being bundled up and transported to university hospital E.R where I had just departed some twenty minutes earlier. At the E.R. her seizures could not be controlled with the standard drugs IV. Anesthesia was finally called and she was put under. Finally with deep anesthesia and muscles paralyzing drugs, her seizures were controlled but she had to be intubated and put on the ventilator. The neurology service was already in attendance and the chief of neurology actually came personally to attend my wife. A variety of medications were given and she was allowed to come out of deep anesthesia. Of course she had tubes in her stomach through her nose and throat and several IV's going. Additionally there was continuous EEG and EKG monitoring. We had been taken to the Neuro Intensive Care Unit. I had left my daughter in the hospitals 24 hour day care temporarily. I called the hospital social services and told them I needed help in caring for our daughter for a few days. It was now well after closing hours but the director was a friend and church member where Sherrie and I attended. She personally took our daughter home and then placed her with one of Sherrie's close friends the next morning. As you can understand I was beaten down feeling. I stayed with Sherrie over night which was prohibited officially but allowed as to how most everyone knew us personally and professionally. During the night Sherrie began to come around. Anesthesia extubated her with out difficulty. The EEG continued to be abnormal with spikes from the right frontal-parietal region for right dominant individuals as Sherrie was. This is the part of the brain that deals with perception, ideas, language etc. She had no more seizures and by morning was fully awake and hungry but hoarse due to the tube that had been in her throat. She remembered nothing of the incident. Sherrie asked about our daughter and, upon knowing she was okay, expressed relief and gratitude for all the help she had received. Later that same morning, Sherrie was taken to the MRI unit where she had an MRI of the brain. She returned to the neuro intensive care unit and her monitoring continued. Now she was getting blood levels of the anti convulsants she was getting by mouth. She was eating a light meal normally but having some perceptual problems. The room seemed to move when it was actually quite stable. She said she was having both auditory and visual hallucinations. None of these were scary to her. For some reason they seemed to be pleasant, not threatening yet she did recognize them as hallucinations. The vertigo relented within a few hours after the IV medications were terminated. Our neurologist called in the psychiatrist which was on the research team for the anti cancer meds she had been taking and now had been restarted. The report of the MRI was sent up to the unit that afternoon. The neuro service shared it with me. It was the worst news possible. There was a single grape sized lesion in her brain. We all knew it was most likely metastatic from the melanoma that had been on her shoulder only a few months ago. My life came crashing down on me again. I called Sherrie's parents then my parents, both of whom lived out of town but nearby. We all cried together as the news was conveyed to them. Next I had to tell Sherrie. Nothing has ever been so hard as to tell her of the metastatic cancer in her brain. I had insisted that I be the one to tell her in the presence of the chief of neurology. He strongly suggested that a brain biopsy be done to confirm the diagnosis. Sherrie and I had been to the wilds of South America where our daughter was actually conceived. This had been on a short term medical mission. The neurologist wanted to be sure of the diagnosis plus he wanted proof for the research project also. I prayed it would be an echinococcal cyst or some other treatable disorder. If it was cancer, we knew that the medicines she had been taking had been ineffective and had also left her with an enlarged super sensitive clitoris and nipples. Even in the neuro ICU I caught Sherrie playing with herself under the sheet covering her naked body. I warned her not to go to climax as she might seize again so she quit masturbating herself. I found this behavior to be most unusual for her as she had never shown any exhibitionist tendencies. I passed it off temporarily but didn't forget it. Sherrie took the news gently but with tears in her eyes. Her only statement was a request to me to promise to take care of our daughter. This I promised but was taken back at her request as this was a long term "given". I guess real mothers just have to reassured that their children will be okay. The next day Sherrie was taken to the O.R. where a brain biopsy was done with out difficulty. She had general anesthesia which lasted less than fifteen minutes. She was back in the ICU in less than an hour total and fully awake in another hour. The neurosurgeon called me aside and told me the biopsy was going to be positive as the core needle biopsy was coal black in color, typical of metastatic pigmented melanoma. We discussed the possibility of surgery. The MRI did not reveal other metastases. The neurosurgeon was very negative toward that so that was the end of that. We all agreed to keep her in the research protocol in spite of the side effects and apparent ineffectiveness of the anti-tumor medicines. We wanted to take any chance available but knew in our hearts that her life was near its end. The next day Sherrie was discharged after final blood tests were drawn for medication levels. She had no more seizures. I took her home and picked up our daughter the next day. Sherrie was able to function pretty normally and was taking good care of our off spring. The only worrisome thing was her "hallucinations". I wasn't sure these were medication or tumor induced. Certainly her clitoral and nipple enlargements and sensitivities were research medication induced. Dying Brings Her Fulfillment Sherrie seemed insatiable sexually. She began to talk of a huge black cock fucking her while we made love. I never brought that up but she did so every time we had sex which was now twice a day or even more. She became more insistent that my cock was that huge black cock that was supposed to satisfying her. Obviously my cock was not black as I am not black yet she referred to it as "that big black cock". I gradually became more and more concerned with her mental status. Then one night she had gone to bed before me. She appeared to be resting peacefully in our bed when I came in clothed only in my boxer shorts. As I eased into bed beside her, she rolled over toward me and said "Fuck me Jerome. Make my pussy tingle with that huge black cock." I gently reminded her I was not Jerome, the imaginary man of our fantasies, but her loving husband, Jon. "Jerome, don't keep telling me lies. I know who you are. Suck my clit then drive your cock in to my pussy. I need a big black cock and I need it now." I decided to turn on the bed side light to prove who I was and who I was not. "Jerome, turn out that light. I want your cock now." She had looked straight at me when she said that. I was a little pissed and muffed. "Sherrie, You are in bed with your husband, not that Jerome person of your fantasies". "Please fuck me Jerome." Was her only reply as she grabbed for my soft penis. I was not in the mood to fuck. I was not in the mood to pretend to be Jerome. I was trying to figure out if she was hallucinating or fantasizing. "Sherrie, Where are you right now?" I was determined to go through the place, time orientation interview to determine her lucidity. "Jerome, I am yours. Put it in me. Hurry! I am so wet and my pussy needs you now". I turned on the overhead light. Now the room was brightly lit. Sherrie appeared perfectly normal as I moved in to kiss her. She moaned, "Oh Jerome. Please, put your huge black cock in me hot pussy right now. I'm ready for you to fill me up with your baby making sperm". She had never used those terms before. We had always avoided any reference to making babies in our fantasies. I fingered her now dripping wet pussy. She moaned and pressed against my finger.] "Oh yes, Jerome. I feel your huge hot cock filling my pussy". I knew she was not in reality but didn't know what to do so, being who I am, I rolled her on her back and proceeded to fuck her. She moaned appreciation and I felt her enlarged clit rubbing my shaft as I rode her high. Her clit was like a tiny penis protruding from it's hood a full inch. I came hard and quick as Sherrie shook with a massive orgasm. I thought that would be it for the night but Sherrie was not done. She pulled me back so that our pubes rubbed and I felt her enlarged clit hardening as she moaned for "more of that huge black cock". I just didn't have it in me. I needed a rest at least but I could at least rub my softened cock over her clit which, in just ten or so strokes brought her to a series of smaller orgasms, Then she was spent. I rolled off next to her. Her hand moved to my soft sticky yet slicked cum covered cock and she tried to masturbate me but to no effect. I pushed her hand off me and tried to snuggle but she was having none of that. "Jerome, I don't snuggle with you. We just have sex". She turned over away from me, her back to me, which was very uncharacteristic as we always snuggled after making love. The next morning she was up before me. At breakfast together I asked her about last night. She vowed as to how she remembered nothing about any reference to Jerome or even having sex. I pointed out that there was cum stains on her matted pussy hair. I had pulled her night gown back and fingered her pussy. "Here," I offered. "take a whiff and then try to deny that isn't left over cum on my fingers." I grabbed her hand and put her fingers on her matted pussy hair. "Feel that, Sherrie. it's dried cum matting your pussy hair." She mumbled something in Swedish, then something in German but I couldn't understand what she had said. She just pulled my hand away, closed her gown, took her coffee and sat down at the breakfast table. I knew something was wrong with her, now, for sure. How was I going to tell who she really was. Was last night all a huge hallucination? She appeared to be very lucid this morning. I reached over and asked her to take my hand which she did. "Squeeze my hand, Sherrie" She did. Then I took her other hand and repeated this. Her other hand was considerably weaker than her left hand. The lesion had been on the right side which would have produced weakness in the left side of her body. I knew something serious was going on. Maybe she had another metastasis in the other sites of her brain? I called for a neuro appointment. We were sent for a stat MRI and then up to our neurologist office. After a short wait, he had Sherrie in an exam room near his office. He checked Sherrie somewhat superficially then asked me to come in to his office to review the MRI. He pulled the MRI up on his 26 inch flat screen in his office. He examined it intently, scrolling back and forth across the sequential images. He turned to me and motioned for me to come over and view the images with him. He pointed out several suspicious lesions in various parts of the brain "Jon, she doesn't have long to live. The first lesion has not grown but there are now several other lesions. Although they are not classical for mets, they were not there before and with her now obvious development of objective neuro deficits, there is not much to else to explain." I knew the end was imminent. "How long does she have?" "You know I'm not God, Jon. Based on my best clinical judgment, I would estimate not more than three months. Be prepared as she is soon going to need 24 hour nursing care at some point. Have you contacted the hospital's hospice program. If not, I urge you to do so right now". While Sherrie was still in the adjacent exam room, with an aide, I called the hospice. They sent a representative up immediately. The papers were signed. I told them of the living will and me as the decision maker. We arranged for care in our home as soon as we needed it. They could have someone there by the next shift at any future time. It was my sad duty to again tell Sherrie of the bad news. She was taken off the research protocol. I took her home. That's where she wanted to be and where I wanted her to be. At home, she called her parents and after some tears and even some laughter I had my turn to call my parents. The day ended on a solemn note. The next day her grip was even less vigorous and she was a little weak in her left leg. I called hospice. That afternoon a rep came out to evaluate our home setting. Some changes were planned but none implemented immediately. We did not need hospice care yet. Sherrie wanted more sexual gratification but I just couldn't get it up for her. She began to tell me that If I couldn't satisfy her she would have to get someone to do that for her. I couldn't tell if she was mentally alright or having mental problems but it irritated me for her to talk like that. I told her so. "Sherrie, we have always shared honestly with each other about our sexual needs and preferences. We agreed to keep our fantasies just as fantasies. Now you are talking about taking a real life lover to satisfy your needs. I'm having a hard time with that". I looked at her as we sat on the side of the bed together after a marathon sex which left me drained but now I was deeply concerned and worried and therefore dissatisfied. "Jon, I'm being perfectly up front with you. Since I had to take all those drugs my clit has grown, my nipples are bulging and my need for sex has gone out the ceiling. I love you. Please be sure of that but I need a big cock and plenty of it. I have only a short time left in this life so please don't deny me a basic biologic need for sexual release. You have granted me everything else I wanted. We have traveled to places I wanted to see before I die. Now I want to experience something else I want. Please understand and give me a final wish". She seemed perfectly lucid which made me very more uncomfortable. "Sherrie?" I queried her, "Surely you know about our vows we made to each other. How can you do this to me? How about we use the vibrator?" "I'm not doing anything to you, Jon," she parried back. "This is about the side effects of the medicines I have been taking. It's all and only about relieving the side effects. You are a wonderful lover and always have been but I have changed as a result of those medicine side effect. I don't' want those side effects anymore than you want me to have them but it's a fact we have to deal with. The vibrator just isn't a substitute for a real lived hot huge black cock. I have even tried the dildo you bought me and we have kept hidden but it's not the same as having a real sex with a sexy black man with a huge cock." I saw her logic but felt inadequate and trapped. I wondered how much was side effects and how much was her need to experience a big black cock and was using her mortality as a means of justification. I couldn't tell. I wondered if I could live with either outcome. "Sherrie?, How are you going to arrange to get your needs cared for then?" Please don't ask me to help with this. You know how much it will hurt me if you do this." I pleaded with many other words for what I called sanity. "You don't have to watch us, Jon." was her reply. "Well glory be, what a consolation to me. I presume you only want me to arrange for that big black cock, huh? Well no way in hell or heaven is that going to happen." I commanded. "I have my contacts from the hospital just like you do. I already know who I want and, in fact, he has agreed to help me. All he needs to know is when you won't be here and to be sure he remains anonymous to." She had made plans I didn't even know about. "So you have it all planned? Is that it then?" I was now really worried and even more confused. She seemed perfectly rational yet she had obvious brain disease and the mets were in the areas of her brain that affected reason, judgment and libido. All this plus the continuing late side effects of the previous medicine was growing what was now almost a hermaphrodite type of clitoris / penis. "Yes." She did not blush or flinch. Her reaction was much like telling me she had bought a new brand of coffee for her taste. "Have you done it already, Sherrie? Have you fucked him already?" "No! but I know how big he is because he rubbed himself on me several times over the last several years and I felt him through his scrubs. I even got hold of him and could tell he is not circumcised like you. To be honest, Jon, I wanted him really bad but you and I had to much going to jeopardize us so I never went any farther. Now I know our family is going to break up and you will have Diane and I won't be a factor much longer so I'm going for it in a BIG way." She grinned and squeezed my hand. "I love you, Jon and I know you will provide for my daughter. We have been together these several years in total bliss and harmony. Now that is coming to an end and I want, no need, to pay attention to myself for just a little while longer. Please try to understand me. This is just for sex, not love. We will neither cuddle nor kiss. It's just pure raw sexual outlet. Please keep loving me and taking care of me as I die happily in your arms but satisfied by his huge black cock." She stood and pulled me to her and kissed me tenderly. "Those lips are yours only but my other lips need lots of huge black cock." I pulled back and stood rigidly at attention in front of her wondering what was happening and if I could manage this. "Sherrie?. Are you absolutely sure you must do this. Have you thought of the consequences? Have you thought about how much this will hurt me and our relationship? Do you know that this may mean the end of our living together? Do you know how deeply hurt I will be? Do you know that I might not be able to handle your behavior? Do you know I might try to...." My voice trailed off. I looked at her with tears in my eyes. My eyes were begging her to back off of this. "Jon, I have to do this. I know it may hurt your ego but you will get over it and my need is so much bigger that I will take the risks and bear the consequences. I know you love me and will never leave me destitute so I am going to do it. He knows if I call him that I will have sex with him. He even could come right away, right here where we have just shared great sex in this very bed you. All I need to do is dial his cell. He will see it is me. He doesn't even need to answer. We have it all arranged. He will be here within half an hour of when I call him." I took a big breath, straightened up even taller, to my full stature, and in my best rough and tough command voice I addressed Sherrie as I had never done before. "Sherrie, If or when you dial him tell him if he comes to this house this paratrooper will kill him. Be sure to tell him that. I will only kill him in my house and in my house only. What he does anywhere else with you is his business and yours, not mine any more." My eyes glared at Sherrie. Never before had I had to do that. I was not going to back down. ""Sherrie, I so wanted these last few weeks or months to be with you but I just can't do it your way. I will not live with you if you do this. I will not share my daughter's mother under any circumstances. I will arrange for you to have a one bedroom apartment nearby so our daughter can see you often but she will be staying with me. I will stand by you financially. You are already enrolled in the hospice program and will receive all the bodily physical care you need for your terminal needs. The only thing you will lack is your loving yet principled husband at your bedside. Your family may not understand your decision but I suspect they will not reject you. It's another risk you are taking. Do not expect 'welcome home' from me if you come whining back to me wagging your tail between your legs once you find out that your big black cock fantasy is just a like a kid blowing bubbles. Once it breaks it leaves you with nothing. You are going to kill the only really important thing you have in life: your relationship to your husband. You will surely die alone just as surely as that cancer will kill your body. Sherrie, Is your soul worth selling for a few days of 'big black cock'?" "Sherrie I can have an apartment for you within two days. If you want to go somewhere before that and have sex with him, then be my guest....at his expense, of course, as I am taking your credit cards immediately and freezing our bank account to take away your access to any funds there." As I rifled through her purse, I removed all her credit cards, house and car keys but left her with two hundred dollars in cash. I showed her what I had done. Then I continued my little speech as I flicked her wallet over beside her hip. "When you leave to be with him, you cannot return here ever. Be sure to tell your proposed big black cock lover that if he comes to my house to fuck you, he will leave in a body bag. That is a promise, not an idle threat. I am going to take Diane for a ride. We will return after while to find your answer." I picked up her cell phone from the night stand, pushed her back onto our bed so she was sitting and handed it to her. "You can make your call now in private. I'll let you use my suit cases to pack your stuff in when I return. I'll even carry them to my car to drive you to where ever you want to stay. I'll be back in fifteen minutes to help you pack if you decide to leave me". I left the bedroom, closing the door silently on my marriage with a painful sigh. I gathered Diane in my arms, holding her to my heart. I was leaving only a part of my soul to a stoic but determined looking Sherrie to decide the course of her own short future and to a crushing finality to our idyllic marriage memories. I cried inside even as I hugged my cooing daughter close to my heart then entered my car for the worst but careful drive through the darkening skies. Realdoc EPILOG The growing darkness reflected my depressed mood. My precious daughter Dianne began to fret so I headed home early. Time passed me by. How long had I really been gone. I didn't really know and didn't seem to care. Upon entering my house I put Dianne in her playpen with some animal cookies. Going to my bedroom I noted the door was still shut. I opened it quietly to see Sherrie still sitting motionless but leaning on the head board.. She had obviously had moved about some. The cell phone had fallen to the floor. She looked up at me with her sweet smile. Tears were streaking her face. "Sherrie? Did you make that phone call?" I inquired softly. Seeing her tears of obvious repentance, my anger abated and turned to compassion for my darling dying wife. She made no reply. She held up her right arm to me and tried to stand up. In trying she tumbled forward but I caught her. She clung to me with one arm. The left arm hung useless and her flaccid left leg paralyzed. I lifted her and held her to me, her warm body trembling in my strong embrace. She tried to lift her chin, succeeding only partially and formed a kiss with her lips. I noticed that her right side of her face began to droop and her lips and eyelid were growing weaker even as I held her. With monumental effort, she finally got her head tilted back enough for us to gently kiss. She responded as best she could. It was to be our last embrace and kiss. I laid her down on her back and she sighed. With only one eye open she heroically whispered, "I love you". She took a long deep breath. Her body quivered, her entire right side trembled in tiny seizures as even more paralyzed and flaccid. Her breathing slowed and took on an intermittent deep labored sighing quality. This was the first time I had actually witnessed a person dying of a progressive stroke. No one could have done anything for her. She was at home and going home to. In only a moment more, her body totally relaxed. The seizures relented. The bed became wet with her urine and I smelled the smell of bowel gas as her sphincters gave way to death. I sat next to her. My left cheek covered her chest as I noted the absence of a heart beat. Totally gone was the rigid stoic face of only a few minutes prior. Her face had the peaceful smile I knew so well. I stayed with her for quite some time. I prayed for her peace. With tears in my eyes, I stood up and pulled the sheet over her body up to her face. I could not cover her beautiful face. \my last memories had to be of her face on the pillow in our bed, beckoning me to love her. I kissed her goodbye for the last time. I picked up the cell phone to call the funeral home. Looking at the readout, I noted the last number she had dialed was our home phone. I almost ran to our land line phone and was greeted by the red flashing light of a single missed call. Hurriedly I mashed the call button. The number was from our cell phone. It had to be Sherrie calling me. Now the call was from her "grave". Her soft voice was almost unintelligible. "Honey, I'm going home to be with Jesus. I love you. Forgive me for thinking only of myself these past few". Her voice trailed off. I cried. I forgave her. Dianne called for me, "Daddy! Daddy? Mommy!" Realdoc