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An invitation from a noisy flatmate.

"Oh god," she screamed in delight as waves of pleasure rippled through her. "I need you in me now," she pleaded.

Paul aimed his rod at her wet opening and slowly pushed in. "Yes," Sarah let out at the feeling of him entering her sensitive vagina. She was more than ready to have him pound her pussy to another orgasm.

"Paul. Paul," Sarah yelled as her body reacted to the pleasure she was receiving from Paul's cock thrusting in and out of her overly aroused cunt. "Oh god," she moaned as she clamped her vaginal muscles down as Paul unloaded for the second time, this time filling her pussy with his seed.

Paul and Sarah had a marathon of love making that night. One year later, Paul was discharged from the Air Force and got a job piloting charter flights, Sarah started teaching fifth grade, they were married.


For more than six years Paul and Sarah behaved like it was their first time together, always playful and teasing, always making love like it was the first time. Their life together was more than either had imagined. Sarah was sexually insatiable and Paul was always up for the task.

Every April for the past twenty years there was a country music festival outdoors in a small farming community outside of town. April was a good month to do things outdoors in Arizona; not too hot yet. This year a couple Paul and Sarah became friends with invited them to join them in their RV for the three-day festival.

The weekend started out with good music, lots of beer and of course, a lot of fun. No one could have imagined the horror that unfolded that Saturday night, right before the headliners were about to take the stage. Paul reacted quickly as he heard the sound of gunfire ring out. Immediately he shielded Sarah with his body. Sarah cried with fear as she lay under Paul's listless body. He was shot three times, once in the shoulder, in his lower back and a bullet went through the flesh of his upper thigh and hit him in the groin.

Helicopters from the nearby air base as well as civilian medical copters rushed the dozens of severely wounded to hospitals in the two major cities, each fifty miles away.

Paul was barely alive when he arrived at the trauma center. Back at the campgrounds for the festival Sarah cried hysterically in her blood soaked clothes, she didn't know if her husband would make it, their friends were among the ones who didn't.

The following day, as authorities sorted things out, Sarah learned that her husband was taken to a hospital in their city. She drove the RV directly there, abandoning it in the parking lot and frantically searched for her beloved Paul. He was still in surgery. Sarah waited for ten more hours as doctors worked on Paul.

"Mrs. Jackson," called a doctor in the waiting area.

"Yes," Sarah sprung up fearing the worst.

"Mrs. Jackson," the doctor began, "your husband is alive. He is very strong and he will recover but he will not be the same man."

"When can I see him?" Sarah asked.

"He will be in an artificially induced coma for the next couple of weeks," the doctor informed her. That didn't matter to Sarah, she was not going to leave his side.

Two months later, Paul went home in a wheel chair, paralyzed from the waist down and very limited mobility in his right shoulder. He had lost part of his penis, urine came through a catheter inserted in his bladder. He had lost all sexual function but Sarah's love for him didn't die.


"Paul, don't get upset with what I am about to suggest," Sarah warned. Paul had escaped military service without even a scratch but now a mad man with an assault rifle disabled him. Their income from government disability wasn't much and neither was Sarah's salary as a teacher. Their finances were in a wreck.

"I don't want to lose the house," she went on. "I made good money a couple of years putting myself through college," she hesitated, "by,..., by dancing at a strip club," Sarah finally blurted out.

"What the fuck," Paul said angrily. "My wife is not going to be man handled by a bunch of drunk jerks in a strip club."

"Really, it's not

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