A week later I was once again confronted with the round countenance of Mr. Rogers as I sat in the consulting room. My previously swollen and bruised member had essentially returned to its pre-accident state - if one was able to ignore the seam of sutures on the underside - and Mr. Rogers told me that he was satisfied with progress.

He asked me if there had been any problems - any unusual pain or difficulty urinating, and so forth. I told him that under the circumstances everything seemed to be about as good as I could expect, apart from some itchiness.

"The itching is a good sign," he told me. "It means that the wound is beginning to heal, and that nerve functions are normal. No problems with involuntary erections?".

"No," I replied drily. "Or even with voluntary ones."

He nodded. "The medication has clearly eliminated any problems in that area."

It apparently had. I obviously had not attempted to stimulate myself to hardness, but like most men I was occasionally awakened at night by the need to urinate and the subsequent 'woody' that it caused. I had been aroused from slumber several times in the last week by a need to take a nocturnal leak - but there had been no sign whatsoever of the usual accompanying hard-on, which was actually a pleasant sensation. The innocuous little tablets that I was required to take twice daily seemed to doing their job. Angela had noted that the medication was, in fact, being distributed by the pharmaceutical company she worked for.

The consultation with Mr. Rogers concluded, and I was to return next week to have the stitches removed. I was encased in a lot less bandaging now - just a light layer that mainly served to keep my briefs from chaffing against the stitches.

Angela had returned to work on Monday, and today I had driven myself to my appointment with Mr. Rogers. I grabbed a meal at our local fast food shop on the way home, and as I sat munching my hamburger I took stock of recent events.

The construction company that had engaged my services for the Vietnam project began making pleasing overtures about compensation for my injury. The overtures had become more pleasing still after I had idly informed the squeaky-voiced company representative that I would discuss their offer with my legal adviser. I was further cheered after checking my bank account; the stint working abroad had added a considerable sum to my bank balance - enough, in fact, to finalise the loan on the house. Very soon Angela and I would own our home, lock, stock and barrel. The thought made me smile.

Angela and I had bought the place just after we were married. It was a two storey, four bedroom cedar-clad, located in a leafy bayside suburb. We wanted a fairly large house because we planned on starting a family sometime in the future. Angela had sold the house that she and Carl had been paying off, and my ex-wife had bought out my stake in the home that we had shared (having no kids sure as hell simplified the division of assets). This luckily meant that between us, Angela and I had a very sizeable deposit for our own home, and we'd needed only a modest home loan.

A massive garage had originally taken up much of the ground floor of the house - an enormous area that could have swallowed four cars easily. Soon after we had bought it, Angela had suggested that we partition off the rear section of the garage so that she could have a dedicated area for her gym equipment. I thought it was a great idea, as we had no need for such a cavernous garage, and it would immediately add value to the property.

I had done the renovations myself, and the newly partitioned section at the back of the garage was actually so large that we ended up splitting it into two rooms - a dedicated gym for her Angela's treadmill, exercise bike, bench press, and various other instruments of self-inflicted torture, and a smaller room that we now used as a study and storage area. We also had a modest Spa bath installed in one corner of the gym room – an indulgent little luxury perhaps, but we both enjoyed relaxing in it after a hard day at work.

The home loan was our only remaining debt, and I was looking forward to strolling merrily into the bank and paying it out in full. With the exception of my unfortunate accident, things were falling into place very nicely.

For the remainder of the day I watched some TV and did what little housework that needed doing. As evening approached I prepared a dinner of eggplant parmesan for Angela and myself. When she arrived home she anxiously asked about my visit to the specialist. I told her that all was fine, and that Rogers was happy with progress. She expressed relief, and smiled warmly and kissed me.

Her kiss sent a sharp pang of desire through me. While the pills I was taking to prevent erections did their job effectively, they certainly didn't quell my underlying libido. During the first week after my accident, my ardour had naturally been dampened. But as I started mending, my libido gradually began asserting its presence. It had been two weeks now since I had last climaxed, and I found that I was eyeing Angela a little more lustfully each passing day.

I came to think of it as a 'buzz' - a constant sexual tension - both physiological and psychological - that never really ceased; it simply varied in intensity. One thing was certain; it grew a little more each day. I was startled to discover that my gaze would linger a little longer than usual if I saw a good-looking lady walking down the street, or if I happened to see an alluring woman on TV. I guiltily scolded myself for behaving like a horny teenager.

It had been many years since I had not climaxed for such a long period, and apparently the consequences were beginning to show. In essence, I had the same customary craving for sex as usual - especially after being away from Angela for so long - but my recent accident meant that I now lacked the capability to satisfy these cravings. I was painfully learning what the term 'sexual frustration' really meant.

Angela intuitively seemed to be aware of my growing internal battle with my own libido, and she subtly tried to avoid arousing me. She would normally sleep naked, or wear just a pair of panties. I had often told her just how much I loved being able to feel her bare skin against my body, and how the simple fact that she was naked beside me always switched me on. Since I had arrived home, however, she had started wearing a light pajama set consisting of a cotton tee-shirt and a matching pair of shorts. When she kissed me now, her kisses were still warm and loving, but they lacked her usual heated passion. From past experience, she knew that a long, deep, wet kiss could get my cock hard pretty quick, and I suspected she now refrained from French kissing me for this reason, medication or no medication.

We ate dinner and watched a movie on TV, retiring to bed at about 11:00pm. I wore a pair of briefs over my bandaged member, and Angela was again wearing her pajamas. I slid my arm around her as we lay together, and a light waft of her perfume drifted over me. We began to kiss softly, and Angela responded hesitantly but warmly. I opened my lips, and when her warm, moist tongue slid into my mouth it was like a delicious electric shock; it had been so long since I had kissed her like that.

Normally I would have begun to harden right at that point, but there was no stirring in my loins whatsoever. The buzz, however, suddenly tingled urgently like alarm bell, and an almost tangible vibration began in the pit of my stomach. I started trembling. I needed to taste her lips, her skin, her body... I needed to taste her cunt - now!

I slid my hand under her tee-shirt and began to caress her breasts as our kiss deepened. Her nipples instantly hardened as took turns rolling them softly between my forefinger and thumb. I felt her shudder softly, and she stifled a moan as her tongue slithered deeper inside my mouth.

I began to lift her tee-shirt, and she broke our kiss.

"Baby?" she whispered huskily. "What about your... your stitches. I don't wanna make you hard."

"It's okay," I replied. "I won't get hard, hun. Those pills I'm taking won't let me."

"But I can't please you," she protested softly.

"That may be true," I told her, my voice tight and urgent. "But since when does that mean that I can't please you? I want to please you, Angie. I need to please you!"

I had continued lifting her tee-shirt during the exchange, and she suddenly raised her arms so that I could lift it completely off over her head. At last I gazed upon her magnificent breasts; they were as gorgeous as I had remembered them to be. I lowered my lips to a nipple, and she tilted her head back and sighed in pleasure as I sucked it. I began to kiss and lick every inch of her beautiful tits, slowly working my way down her body. My lips trailed down to her stomach, and I relished the taste of her soft, warm skin. I gently hooked my fingers under the waistband of her shorts and began easing them down her long legs. Angela was now trembling softly, her right hand resting gently on back of my neck.

I slid her shorts and panties down to her ankles, and she drew her legs up so that I could remove them completely. I eased down the bed, manoeuvring myself between her thighs. She parted her legs for me, and I gazed hungrily at the sight below me; she had opened before me like an exotic hothouse flower. I lowered my head down to her pubic mound and kissed it, feeling her neatly trimmed pubic thatch tickling my nose and lips. Angela's hips rose upwards as my tongue slithered further down, and she lifted and parted her legs further.

"Oh, Michael," she breathed. "It's been so long... so long..."

Her scent filled my nostrils, and I extended my tongue and burrowed it gently between her pussy lips. Her juices welled up from within, and for the first time in over six months I tasted her delicious nectar. I drank greedily, savouring her, sliding my tongue deeper inside to scoop out more of her warm, creamy essence.

Angela uttered a long, almost painful moan. "Oh, Michael... Lick me... Please! It's been so, so long!"

I lifted slightly, locating her clit and softly spiralling my tongue around it in tight, flicking circles; it rose eagerly from its soft hood as my wife cooed in pleasure. I glanced up over her mons pubis; her pretty face was clouded with enjoyment as my tongue teased and tickled her now hard button. Her hooded eyes met mine, and I winked at her and then placed my lips over her clit and sucked it. Angela's whole body jolted on the bed.

"Oh, fuck!" she gasped. "Oooh, Jesus! Do it, baby! Please! Suck it!"

Her little button seemed to throb joyfully in my mouth, and I slid my left hand up between her thighs. Her cunt was soft and warm and slick with her juices as my index and middle fingers slid gently inside her. She moaned and drew her legs back even further, offering herself fully to me. The contractions of her vaginal muscles gripped my fingers tightly as I suckled and teased her clit, my tongue rapidly swirling. She was going to cum - and soon.

I deliberately started to make slurping sounds, and added little moans of my own. This had always driven her wild, and it did so now. I felt her tense and her thighs started trembling. The fingers of her right hand slid down through my hair, and she gripped me firmly. I began to gently finger-fuck her as I suckled her sensitive little bean.

"Yes! Oh, baby, Yes!" she implored. "Don't stop!"

I didn't stop. I sucked her clit a little harder, and flattened my tongue over it, gently rasping and sliding it against that incredible sensitive part of her. I could feel her whole body tense. I uttered another sensual moan from the back of my throat, and this pushed her over the edge. She tightened her grip on my hair, pulling my face harder onto her cunt.

"Oh, Michael... Oh, Michael!... Now!... Now!... Fuck, yes!... I'm gonna cum!"

Her cunt suddenly clenched tightly around my fingers like a velvet vice, pulsing like a living heart as her earthy moans of ecstasy cut the air. Her cream erupted from the depths of her pussy like lava as she climaxed, her legs twitching and jerking as orgasm danced through her. I released my suction on her clit, but kept my tongue gently swirling and dancing around it, maximising the final waves of ecstasy rippling trough her body.

She uttered a final satisfied moan, and her whole body slumped, trembling and twitching. I very gradually slowed my spiralling tongue and eased my fingers from her molten pussy. My tongue slid down, sinking deep inside her, stirring a succulent well of her delicious juices. My mouth lifted briefly from her.

"I want to suck you dry," I whispered huskily. "I want to drink you, to feel every drop of you sliding down my throat."

She gazed down into my face with eyes half-closed. "Then do it," she panted.

*****

Later, after I had eventually surfaced and slid back up to lay alongside her, she turned and wrapped her arms around me. She gave a satisfied stretch, like a cat awakening from a contented nap.

"Enjoy that, honey?" I softly asked.

She smiled weakly. "Oh, babe, you have no idea - no idea - how good that was! It's been so long, baby. So, so, so long. And do you have any idea of how good you are at doing that?"

I grinned at her. "I ate a lot of tacos while I was away, just to keep in practice."

She giggled. "In that case, I think I'll start serving tacos here more often." Her face suddenly showed uneasiness. "You're not hard or anything, are you?"

"No, hun. Everything's just fine." My cock had, in fact, remained disconcertingly flaccid the whole time that I had pleasured her.

Her smile slowly returned. "Okay, baby. I was really worried about making you hard."

"Is that why you've started wearing pajamas to bed?"

A slightly apologetic look clouded her face. "Yes. Well, it's one reason, anyway. I didn't wanna excite you just in case those pills didn't completely work. I know it's very important that you don't get an erection right now."

"What are the other reasons?" I asked.

She pondered for a few seconds. "I guess I felt it would've been insensitive and cruel of me to sleep naked beside you."

"Because we can't make love, you mean?"

"Yes."

"Baby," I replied. "Just because I can't make love to you right now or climax myself, it doesn't mean I don't want you to. In fact, it makes me want to please you even more. I need to please you."

She seemed to understand the latent message, and she nodded softly. "I guess I just didn't want to appear selfish, and I didn't know if you wanted to do anything right now. I know it must be very difficult for you, especially after being away for so long. What happened to you is so unfair."

I smiled ruefully. "Yes - it is. But until it's all fixed, you know that I've always loved eating your pussy, and the accident hasn't affected my tongue, baby." I playfully licked my lips.

She sent me an impish grin. "So you don't mind eating a lot of tacos, then?"

I laughed. "The more, the better. You got any hot sauce to go with them?"

"Oh, you know I have," she replied cheekily. "As long as you're hungry, I'll keep serving them up, honey - with as much sauce as you can handle."

"Yum," I replied, licking my lips again.

Angela giggled again. "So I can ditch the pajamas?"

"Oh, yeah," I quickly agreed.

"Good - I hate the goddamned things!"

We spent the next fifteen minutes or so curled up together, softly talking about this and that. She had remained naked, and I took the opportunity to drink in the sight of her exquisite body. The buzz in my loins had strangely subsided slightly, as if Angela's climax had somehow soothed my own ardent yearnings. She eventually rolled over and lit a cigarette from the pack on her bedside dresser. She only ever smoked in bed after we had sex, and for some weird reason I always found it incredibly sexy when she smoked naked. The anti-smoking lobby would not have approved, but they had no business interfering in my sex life anyway.

Angela blew a thin stream of smoke out through her lips. She noticed my lustful gaze, and she turned to me and slowly smiled. "After I've had this smoke, I might go and cook something."

I blinked. "Eh? Cook? Cook what?"

Her smile turned into a leer as she took another drag on her cigarette and winked at me. "Tacos."

A salacious tingle flittered through my loins. "Why wait 'til you're finished smoking?"

Angela's leer broadened even more. She slowly drew her shapely legs up and parted them slightly, and her pussy winked invitingly out at me from the apex of her thighs.

"Good idea, honey," she smilingly told me, taking a drag on her ciggie. "Come and get it, then. You don't mind if I smoke while you eat, do you?"

I sure as hell didn't, and I soon proved it to her.

*****