Compassion or Passion?

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Natasha and Len were devastated when they got the news. The police officer had come to their door when Len was at work, so it was Natasha who took the blow first. She almost fainted and the officer had to help her into the lounge and on to the settee.

Her son Chris had crashed his car into a tree and the car had then bounced down an embankment.

“He’s alive,” said the officer, “But I’m afraid he’s rather badly injured. He’s in intensive care at the Royal City Hospital. Would you like me to take you there?”

Natasha accepted his offer but before leaving rang Len at work. Struggling to maintain a composed voice she simply said that Chris had had an accident in his car and was in hospital. When Len asked for details Natasha fended off his questions. She thought it better not to alarm Len too much, otherwise if he drove from work to the hospital knowing how bad things were, he might himself end up having an accident.

The police officer drove Natasha to the hospital where she was shortly joined by Len at Chris’ bedside in the intensive care ward.

Chris was still unconscious and the doctor told them they still had to investigate the full extent of his injuries. He tried to sound positive, but it became clear that he suspected the injuries to be severe.

From that day on there were seemingly endless tests and investigations. Chris came round and when he could speak said to his parents, “It’s strange, but I don’t seem to be able to feel anything from the neck down.”

Finally, after months of treatment, it was clear that Chris was now quadriplegic. Some sensation was restored to his fingers, but that was all. Chris was now faced with a lifetime of heavy dependence on other people.

One aspect of his condition had both positive and negative side. His brain was as alert as ever, and that was positive, but because of his unimpaired brain activity, he could recall what he had been before the accident, and this tormented him.

Chris had been one of those boys who seemed to have it all. Highly intelligent, a scintillating personality, popular with the girls, several of whom had surrendered their virginity to him, excellent at sport, in short, an outstanding achiever all round with a great future ahead of him. Now it had all come crashing down.

When Chris was finally told about his prognosis, he at first seemed to take it well, speaking philosophically about all the people in the world who suffered from similar problems, but this didn’t last. One day he announced to Natasha that he wanted to die, but no one would help him to die.

“I’m so bloody helpless,” he lamented, “I can’t even commit suicide.”

Natasha and Len shared his anguish and felt helpless in the face of it. This pain was increased when after months of being in hospital, they were faced with the choice of where Chris was to end up.

The choices came down to two possibilities. One was for Chris to be taken in to an auxiliary unit of the hospital that cared for what they called, “Totally incapacitated people”, or for Chris to come home.

They agonised over these choices, especially as they dearly wanted him to come home, but doubted their ability to care for him properly. On investigated they learned that the State Government provided some financial help for people in their situation, and this included having experts come into their house to set it up and equip it with what would be needed. In addition, a nurse would visit daily to help in the care of Chris.

Armed with all the information they could muster about the auxiliary unit and the possibility of his coming home, they put the situation to Chris. Without hesitation he opted for home.

So their house went through a storm of modifications to prepare it for Chris’ arrival.

Having some sensation in his hands Chris was able to use a somewhat sophisticated wheel chair with a joy stick that responded to his touch. Both Natasha and Len, but especially Natasha since she would be the principle carer, were given a course of training in what to do physically in the handling of Chris, and also some insights into dealing with his moods.

On the day of his arrival Chris arrived home in an ambulance and was carried in to his bedroom now laid out to allow for the manoeuvring of his wheelchair, as were other parts of the house, including the bathroom.

At first Chris seemed to come out of the depression that seemed to be constantly with him. He began to make plans for the future, announcing that he thought he could take a university course by correspondence and it would be great to have his parents and old friends around him again.

Sadly, and with the best will in the world, the old friends did call in at first, but most Gaziantep Eve Gelen Escort of them fell away. It was just too much bother to spend time visiting a cripple when the world was calling them. Gradually Chris descended into the gloom again.

Natasha’s devotion to her son was absolute. The nurse came in daily to help wash Chris and check on his condition, but it was left mainly to Natasha to deal with his other needs and wants. Len helped where he could, but as he was the main financial support, he was more limited in the time he could give.

One aspect of Chris’ condition oddly, had not been discussed by either the doctors or the people who had instructed them; Chris’ sexuality.

There seems to be a view that people like Chris no longer had sexual needs, or if they did, they ought not to. Whether or not he ought to, it became clear to Natasha that Chris did have sexual needs. This was evidenced when helping the nurse to move Chris from his bed to the wheel chair, and when changing the bed sheets, it was obvious that Chris was having seminal emissions.

The nurse, maintaining her professional stance, made no comment. It was only when Natasha quizzed her about it that she said, covering her embarrassment with a stern visage, “Oh yes, poor things, they still have sexual feelings,” and left it at that.

Natasha, herself having a very insistent libido, and still young enough to understand the sexual pressures of youth, was troubled by the lack of fulfilment Chris must be suffering. This, she felt, would be especially painful for her son since he would still be able to recall that girls who had once been so free with their bodies, but who now came nowhere near him.

The situation became even more poignant when during the times Natasha gave Chris a bit of a clean up, he would start to get erections. Self-conscious by his unbidden arousal, he went so far as to apologise to her saying, “Sorry mum, it’s about the only thing that still seems to work properly.”

Natasha tried to smooth over his embarrassment saying rather lamely, “It’s all right, darling, it’s perfectly natural,” and nothing more was said, but the erections continued whenever she had reason to touch his body and especially his genitals.

She thought she would let Chris managed with the wash the nurse gave him, but soon realised that Chris did need to be given a further if less thorough washes at least a couple of times a day in addition. The emission of semen and the erections began to trouble her, and she discussed it with Len.

He too realised that for Chris to undergo a lifetime of sexual deprivation was painful for the boy, but he could come up with no solutions.

They discussed the possibility of hiring a prostitute to come in and service Chris once a week, or perhaps he could be taken to a brothel to gain some relief, but when the idea was put to Chris he rejected it, saying he wasn’t going put his “cock in some slut’s cunt” that had probably had half dozen other cocks in it that day.

So the matter rested for a while, with the involuntary emissions and the erections continuing.

While Chris could use his hands in a very limited way, he was unable to use his arms. When he was manoeuvred into his wheel char his hands had to be lifter up to the control joystick. So at one stage Natasha thought she might lift Chris’ hands to his penis so that he could masturbate. On consideration she decided against this because the control of his hands was so limited he might end up achieving nothing and being more frustrated than ever.

It was one afternoon when she was giving Chris a brief wash and he produced a clearly throbbing erection with viscous discharge oozing out of his urethra, that Natasha took the plunge. At the risk of disgusting her son she very tentatively took hold of his penis and began to fondle it with her hand, waiting to see what reaction she would get.

She could see why the girls had been so forthcoming with their favours in the days before his accident; Chris had a fine display of manhood, and letting her fingers drift over his testicles she could feel the pressure of his stored up frustration.

Chris groaned as she fondled him; “Oh mum…mum…you don’t know…”

“I do darling,” she said softly, “is it all right if I help you?”

“Oh mum, would you…please…?”

Natasha took hold of his foreskin and began to move it with ever increasing speed over his crown.

Chris began to groan and quickly sperm fountained out of him in a massive ejection that was followed by seemingly endless surges. When the last drops had seeped out of him he sighed and said, “That was so good, mum…thank you…thank you…”

Natasha cleaned up the semen that had splattered widely over his body and her hand, and as she did said, “I’ll do that for you every day darling, if you want me to.”

“Oh yes, mum, please.”

So it became a daily event in Natasha’s life to masturbate Chris. Rather than risk an argument or even a row, she said nothing to Len, and certainly Chris told him nothing of her activity with him.

One thing that Natasha discovered was that if she was to keep Chris fully satisfied, she needed to masturbate him twice and sometimes three times a day. This intimate involvement with her son, however, began to have an unlooked for effect on Natasha.

The sheer anguish and delight her son experienced from her touch and masturbating began to arouse her. Several times she nearly orgasmed as Chris spurted out his semen, and herself a very passionate woman, she lusted for him to put that seed into her.

She had always had a very strong bond with Chris, and his dependence on her and his need for her ministrations drew her even closer to him. It was a deep love she felt, and although it gave her times of guilt, she had to acknowledge that it was a love even deeper than she felt for Len.

To add to her difficulties, it became clear that Chris’ arousal was not for some abstract figure, but was focused specifically on her. Her own son wanted her and she had reached the point where she urgently wanted him.

Now, as she masturbated him she felt the wetness between her thighs and the hardening of her nipples. She knew she had to either stop the masturbating or give her body to Chris.

It was no longer a question of Chris getting an erection when she washed or touched him; her very presence seemed to arouse him and he would ask her to masturbate him. Confused as to what she should do, one day she began to masturbate him, but then on the spur of the moment, and almost before she realised what she was doing, she took the crown of his penis into her mouth.

Chris cried out, “Oh mum…mum…” and almost instantly discharged into her mouth. Natasha swallowed hard but the juice ran out of the corners of her mouth and down his till pumping shaft to ooze over his groin.

When he had finished they were both in a mess, and Natasha fled to the bathroom to wash her mouth out, to return with a bowl water and wash cloth to clean Chris.

Chris watched her with something like fire in his eyes and said, “That was a beautiful thing to do, mum.”

As Natasha washed Chris’ penis and groin he began to get another erection. Natasha, almost stretched to the breaking point of her self-restraint, yielded. She tore off her clothes and sitting across Chris she inserted his penis into her vagina.

When he penetrated her Chris moaned aloud a wordless cry. As she worked up and down on his shaft Natasha panted with ecstasy; not only was it the feel of a full manhood in her, but that manhood was her son’s, her beloved son.

She should have done this before; should have given him her body in compassion, but now she was not only giving, but taking. She wanted him, oh God how she wanted him; wanted him as she had never wanted a man before.

She thrust up and down on him making him cry out ever more loudly, and she herself was soon weeping as an excruciating orgasm took control of her. She had no will to do anything but continue to move and let her climax torment her as it wished, for it seemed both part of her yet at the same time a selfish self-wiledl power that was beyond her command.

She felt sperm shooting in to her, striving for her womb, seeking to fertilise. All the primeval force of the desire to procreate seemed to take her in its grasp, and she thrust down to dig Chris ever more deeply into her.

At the very pinnacle of her delicious agony she gave a wailing outcry and then began the gasping climb down from the heights.

With the last convulsion she drooped over Chris, tears coursing down her cheeks, her breathing laboured.

Chris had finished well before she had completed the cycle of her orgasm and lay replete staring at her as his penis slackened within her seed filled vagina.

It might have been expected that words would be spoken, but both were silent, almost incredulous that this had happened between them.

Natasha disengaged herself from Chris and softly kissing him on the lips, departed once more for the bathroom, there to regretfully remove his sperm. When she returned to the bedroom it was to once more wash Chris’ genitals, and she gently cleansed them he said, “I love you mother.” “I know you do, darling,” she breathed.

Her thoughts ran on; “He is all mine. It’s as if he is my baby again, and I can give or withhold. He is utterly dependent on me to give my body to him, or deny it. But as when he was a baby I gave my breast to him in love, so I shall give my body now in love. I fed him long ago with my milk to sate his hunger; I shall feed him now for another hunger.”

And hungry he was. It seemed that the more he had of Natasha the more he wanted. He never asked her to copulate with him, but Natasha took her cue from his erections. There were limits set by his incapacity to the positions they could adopt, the only viable one if he was to penetrate her was when she sat across him.

She still occasionally masturbated him and often gave him oral sex, but the one other thing that was distinctly possible she had never sought to do, until one day it was asked for by Chris.

Natasha was sitting across Chris slowly sliding her vulva back and forth over his shaft, delaying penetration. Chris said, “Mum, I love your smell.”

“What smell is that, darling?” Natasha asked a little disconcerted that she might be suffering from body odour.

“Your sex smell,” he said. “You know, when you’re all wet and sexy.”

“You mean my vaginal smell?”


“I didn’t think it was all that noticeable, darling.”

“It is when you’re all worked up like now.”

“And you like it?”

“I love it.”

Natasha was somewhat relieved because she knew that a lot of men disliked vaginal odour.

“Mum,” Chris went on, “Would you let me taste you?”

“You mean you want me to put my…?”

“If it’s okay with you, mum.”

“But darling, I’m soaking wet with lubricant.”

“Good, that’s what I want.”

Len after Natasha had asked him to give her oral sex had always been an anti female odour and taste fanatic. To have her son actually ask to be allowed to do it was to work Natasha up to an even higher pitch of excitement.

“I’ll just let you do it for a minute, darling, because you might not like it.”

She moved up and positioned her sex organ over Chris’ mouth, and gently lowered it to touch his lips. She felt his tongue move over her outer lips, and as this continued she placed her fingers on the lips and parted them to let the tongue lick her inner lips and penetrate her vagina.

She knew that Chris must have been getting soaked because she could feel her fluid discharge increasing, so she withdrew from him.

Chris’ face was certainly soaked, but he pleaded, “Please mum, don’t go away.”

“You like it?” she asked.

“Love it,” he said. “You smell and taste fantastic.”

She lowered herself on to him again, but after a while moved so that his tongue was licking her clitoris.

The shockwaves came and she clutched his head to her crying out, “Darling…darling…oh my love…”as she lubricated even more copiously.”

She could not see his penis but suddenly he started to make muffled sounds like, “Mmm…mmm…mmm…” She knew he must be ejaculating inspired by the sheer joy he was getting from the oral sex he was giving her.

When they had finished she said, “Was it that good, darling?”

He didn’t answer her directly but said, “You will let me do that to you again, won’t you?”

“Of course, my love, any time you want, but it couldn’t have been very satisfactory, ejaculating like that.”

“It just happened,” he said, “I guess I was so worked up tasting and smelling you.”

“I’ve made a terrible mess of you,” Natasha laughed. “I suppose I ought to clean it up. With that she bent and kissed him and then began licking her own fluids from his face. “If he likes my taste, perhaps I might.” She did.

This process brought on another erection and having branched out, as it were, she decided on another adventure with him. She let her breasts swing over his erect shaft and then lowering them she squeezed them against his length.

As best she could she moved him up and down in her breasts and after a few minutes of this stimulation, it worked. His warm sperm shot out between her breasts, the viscous fluid dripping back onto his lower belly and groin as he groaned with delight.

That seemed to leave Chris temporarily satisfied, but just as he now seemed to be unable to get enough of Natasha, she could not get enough of him. She was now servicing two men, and still she could have taken more. With Len it was a couple of times a week; with Chris at least every day and often twice a day or more.

It is correctly said that the only one hundred percent method of contraception is total abstinence from sex. Certainly in Natasha’s case the contraceptive pill she used let her down. She became pregnant.

As I write she is six months into her pregnancy and doesn’t know whose little spermatozoon battled through her defences to fertilise her egg. She never intends to find out, but hopes it might be Chris, so that he could have yet another thing he never thought he would be able to achieve.

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