Thread: Infirm (Ben Robertson x Devilla Roche)

So, after leaving Milly at church, after being in the house of Our Lord and listening to the Pastor speak on living an honest, disciplined life, I come home and do what I normally do when I have the place to myself. I jerk off into one of Milly's bras. Yep, not proud of it. But there's a particular urgency this fine Sunday morning. Images of Milly on top of me last night continued to wrack my mind all through the church service, and I all but run up the stairs ow my legs ow my legs ow my legs to find the white Wondermaid bra I have hidden in my extra briefcase, in the hall closet. In the bedroom, pants around my ankles, I'm stroking myself into one of its big, silky cups as I rifle through her lingerie drawer, looking for...ah, there it is..the newer one, baby blue, that she uses during certain times of the month. I hold it, and stare at the tag...36DD.... God, I'd be mortified if Milly found out about the obsession I have with breasts, and with hers in particular. It's...humiliating. Shameful. Infantile. But I think about breasts, big breasts, her big breasts, about what she could do to me...thinking about her big, fleshy, white tits filling these cups... ...clean up is messy, and I feel all of about two inches tall with disgrace. But soon enough I'm on the couch, eating potato salad and watching the Eagles beat up on the Browns. I had plans to finish up the rest of the leaves outside, but I'm too sore for that. I'd popped several Bayers a half hour ago but they're not touching the pain. It's only been getting worse since this morning and...I face it...I'm going to have to call for another clinic visit... I have a private line to my doctors so, even it being Sunday, I get in touch and - as Milly's walking in - am setting up an appointment for my next treatment tomorrow. Yes, uh huh...yes... I finish up on the phone with the clinic, and put down the receiver. I explain to Milly what's going on. I have a treatment tomorrow. They told me to be safe and bring an overnight bag...with the way I've been responding, they expect me not to be able to go home the same day. They also ask if Milly can stay over as well, as they have some new treatment options to discuss with us the following day, after I've recovered. She takes it all well, looking over me with concern. We both take heart with the mention of a new treatment option, and I put on my bravest face for her. Nonetheless, she insists I sit down on the couch for the rest of the day, and she pampers me with drinks, food, blankets. Everything I need to try to get me to forget the growing aches in my bones. Aren't you going to join me? I ask, early in the evening as she sets my third scotch for the day down in front of me. She defers, waving me off - no wine for her today! She seems to have left her hangover back at church, but doesn't want to bring on another one. She's always good to me, but is especially attentive today. She makes a nice dinner for us and afterwards goes up to change into pajamas. She wants to get to bed early tonight, be ready for tomorrow. But what she comes back downstairs wearing is certainly not her flannels...wow! With a little girl pout and a mincing step in pink Marabou heeled slippers, Milly makes her entrance back into the living room in a sheer pink babydoll nightie. She looks at me, bats her lashes a few times, and bends at the knee to lean over and blow me a kiss. Boobs bulge out of her top and before I know it I'm springing off the couch to chase her back towards the stairs. She giggles as I spank her big, round rear end, which she wags voluptuously at me as I run up the stairs after her. Soon we're in the bedroom and she's giggling again - I can't get these clothes off fast enough! But quickly I have her - ooof! I guess I'm not a young man anymore! - in my arms and lift her onto the bed. Her girlish giggles and womanly curves had me hard by the time we hit the stairs, and I knew that tonight I had to assert myself I'm the man. I'm in charge. I'm on top. But, as I'm inside her - thrusting down into her hips with my own, sliding in, sliding out, our faces inches apart as she lays under me, so close I can smell her shampoo - I begin to falter. Though I shut my eyes tight - imagining, fantasizing, picturing - I can feel her eyes on my face, searchingly, adoringly, looking deep into me, loving me. Is it the whiskey? Or that I masturbated earlier? Or my pains? Why can't I....? Oh no ooo..... ...I can't stay hard.