Nursed Back to Health

I sat grumpily in my recliner, feeling my pain medications slowly wear off. It was the first day back from the hospital after having surgery. I'd had sleep apnea my whole life and as I aged (and got fatter), it got worse and worse. My wife nagged me to see a doctor because she was tired of waking up when I stopped stop breathing in the middle of the night. She wore me down and I finally went to my doctor, who set me up with a sleep study. It turned out that I had severe apnea and, to make matters worse, I couldn't tolerate the CPAP machine. The machine needed so much air that it felt like I was choking when it sent a blast of air down my throat.

The only option left was surgery. When I had my consult for the surgery, the surgeon told me what all was going to happen: First, they were going to micro-abrade my nasal passages, a process that I half-humorously called "roto-rootering my head". Then, they were going to remove all the excess tissue from the back of my throat and roof of my mouth. Finally, they were going to widen my nasal cavity. It sounded, and turned out to be, painful.

After the surgery, I spent a pain-filled night in the hospital. It hurt so bad that I couldn't sleep, and the nurses were unresponsive to say the least. I was supposed to get pain medication every four hours, but it was five or six hours between doses. By the time I was discharged, I wanted to punch each and every nurse responsible for my care during my stay.

My wife picked me up from the hospital and got me comfortable before going back to work. She only worked part-time with no benefits and if she took time off she didn't get paid for it. We really didn't need the money since I had a good-paying job, but it was a point of pride with her. She'd worked since she was 15 and having the job let her feel like she wasn't "dependent" on me.

Despite being part-time, her manager managed to find ways to keep her there an extra hour or two or three every day. It pissed me off that she was working almost full-time hours without full-time benefits, but she loved the people she worked with and told me she didn't mind it. To be honest, I thought she was having an affair with her manager until I met him. I'm not the cream of the crop by any means, but this guy was seriously a fat slob. I didn't feel threatened by him at all. He wasn't doing anything with my wife, he was just an asshole.

As I surfed the TV channels, the meds wore off. I could only take them every two hours, but they stopped working in half that time. I heard the front door open and my wife's daughter-in-law, Jessie, walked in carrying a large bag. I raised an eyebrow at her in surprise.

I have to admit that I'd had a serious case of the hots for Jessie since the day I met her five years ago. I don't know why, either...she was the opposite of what my normal tastes were. I liked solid, full breasted women as evidenced by my wife (5'9", around 160 pounds with D-cup breasts), and Jessie was a tiny thing, maybe 5'2" with not much in the way of tits. Her small frame and small boobs her an elfin look that I found incredibly attractive however. Of course, her youth had a lot to do with that...she wasn't even half my age, being 23 compared to my 51. I'm not an ass man either, but she had a particularly nice one that I ogled every chance I got. My wife had caught me checking out her ass on several occasions, prompting a stern look from her. Lastly, she was a red-head...I usually went for the blonde ones.

"Wow...you look like shit, Craig," she said. One thing that I didn't like much about her was her bluntness. If it popped into her head, she said it.

"Thanks," I mumbled sarcastically. It hurt to talk. "What are you doing here?"

"I brought soup," she said, holding the bag up. At the mention of food, my stomach growled loud enough for her to hear. I didn't have anything to eat for 24 hours prior to the surgery, and only ate about 1/10th of the food they brought me after...despite being famished, it just simply hurt too much to eat.

She disappeared into the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with a large steaming bowl. She handed it to me, then plopped down in my wife's recliner next to me.

"So, how are you?" she said, brightly.

"Hurting," I complained. "Can't get comfortable, can't sleep, can't eat." I took a spoonful of the soup. The heat of it going down my raw throat hurt like hell but my stomach appreciated it.

"Poor thing," she said, standing and walking over to me, then putting her hand on my forehead. "No fever," she commented.

Despite the pain I was in, the sensation of her tiny hand on me made my dick twitch. If I had felt better, I think my dick would have surged to full hardness.

"What's new with y'all?" I asked as she pulled her hand away.

"Not much," she replied. "Mark is still an ass, the kids are doing good. They're at my mom's so I can come take care of you. Other than that it's same old, same old."

Mark was my wife's son from a previous marriage. When Mark and Jessie married, he was 18 and she was 16. They had two children that my wife doted on, but I think the responsibility of being a husband and father was too much for him. He couldn't keep the same job for more than six or eight months, and had left her several times to shack up with another (notably childless) woman. He kept coming back to her, though, and she kept taking him back.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "My tattoo is done!"

"You have a tattoo?" I asked. There was nothing showing on the skin that I could see.

"Yep! Wanna see?" she asked.

"Sure," I replied.

To my utter surprise and shock, she stood up and pulled her t-shirt off. She wasn't wearing a bra, and her perfectly formed little titties were exposed in all their glory. She had large nipples which seemed even bigger on the small breasts they were on and was close enough that I could have reached out and touched them. My first instinct was to do exactly that but I caught myself as she spun around. There, across the whole of her back, were fairy wings. Whoever did the work did an excellent job.

"Very nice," I said, not sure if I was talking about her tattoo or her tits.

"Thank you," she giggled. She turned back around, giving me another glorious look, then put her t-shirt back on.

"Kind of bold of you," I said, smiling.

"What, showing you my tattoo...or showing you my tits?" she grinned.

"Both," I said.

"I'm not ashamed of my tattoo OR my body," she replied. "I like it when I can show either off. Besides, I thought you could use some cheering up."

I wasn't as much cheered up as I was excited. My dick had overcome the pain and medication and was slowly ballooning under my robe. I didn't think I could get hard under these conditions, yet there it was.

"That's a helluva way to cheer me up," I said, smiling.

"I can walk around topless if it'd make you feel better," she said, a glint of laughter in her eyes.

"Hell, yes," I mumbled to myself, not realizing that I'd said it loud enough for her to hear.

Without any hesitation, she pulled her shirt off again. Again, those beautiful little breasts were within reach, and it was everything I could do to stop myself from reaching out and touching them.

"Does that help?" she asked, her hands running up her side to cup them.

I nodded, unable to tear my eyes from them. I shifted, trying to hide the tenting of my bathrobe.

"Good," she grinned, then walked away. I could hear sounds from the kitchen of dishes being washed over the next fifteen or twenty minutes.

"When do you take your pain meds again?" I heard her call from the kitchen.

"Another twenty minutes," I griped. "Damn things wear off too soon."

She walked back into the living room, still topless. My dick, which had softened completely while she was in the kitchen, twitched back towards hardness.

"Twenty minutes is close enough. Here," she said, holding out my pain medication. I took it, then she handed me a wet hot dishtowel. "Hold this up against your face. It'll help."

I didn't want to...it would block my view of her. Reluctantly, though, I did and the heat radiating into my face did make it feel better. It only lasted a minute or two before it began to cool, and I pulled it away from my face.

My eyes opened wide when I discovered her on her knees in front of me. She had a look in her eye that I couldn't fathom.

"I can't make the pain go away," she said quietly, "but maybe I can take your mind off of it?" Her tiny hands reached out and opened my robe, exposing my hardening dick.

"Uh, Jessie," I stammered, my hands nervously fluttering towards my robe. Honestly, I had every intention of pushing her away and covering myself up, but I never managed to actually achieve that feat.

Her mouth covered the head of my dick, slowly sliding down my shaft, and I groaned. GODDAMN her mouth felt good. I didn't get oral much...my wife didn't like giving or receiving it. Luckily for my wife, though, I have a hair trigger when she sucks my dick and I don't last very long on the rare occasions I talk her into it.

"Jesus, Jess," I moaned. The pain in my face faded at the sensation of her slow, relentless blowjob. I heard her giggle around my dick, and my hand rested softly on top of her head as it moved up and down.

It took me a lot longer than normal to cum because of the pain and the medications, but she never stopped until my dick throbbed in her mouth and flooded it with my cum. There was a lot of it, which I think surprised her because I felt her jerk and swallow furiously.

My dick deflated immediately and she gave the tip a few kisses before standing up and covering me back up with my robe.

"You, uh," I said, pointing to the corner of my mouth. Her finger found the stray blob of cum and pushed it into her mouth. My dick twitched weakly at the sight.

She walked away, returning a few minutes later with a blanket. She covered me, kissed me on the forehead, and said, "Maybe that will help you sleep." I didn't know if she meant the blanket or the blowjob, but I really didn't care...the meds were starting to kick in and the warm glow of my orgasm made my eyelids heavy.

I woke up with a start when I heard the front door close. Bleary-eyed, and back in pain, a wave of fear ran through me as I saw my wife walk into the living rom. I looked around for Jess, but her t-shirt wasn't on the floor any more. I relaxed, relieved. She was gone.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, hanging up her keys and work badge next to the front door.

"Still hurting," I said. She walked over to me, and saw the cold bowl of soup on the table next to my recliner. "You made soup?" she asked, surprised.

I shook my head, which triggered a fresh wave of pain. "Jessie brought it over," I said.

She frowned. "Hmmph," she grunted. She'd never been very fond of Jessie to begin with, thinking that she wasn't "good enough" for her son. I never voiced it, but I always thought the opposite was closer to the truth. True, there were rumors that Jessie had screwed around on Mark, but I think it was more in retaliation to his frequent wandering than anything else.

I looked at the clock. It had been over four hours since my last dose of pain meds (and the wonderful ministrations from Jessie), and heaved myself out of my chair to take more.

I slept in my recliner that night. Laying down seemed to intensify the pain in my head, so I spent the night upright. I dozed off and on, never really getting much sleep except for a short time after the next set of pain meds kicked in. When my wife woke up the next morning and came out to check on me, I was both in pain and exhausted.

"Feeling any better?" she asked.

"Not really," I admitted. I didn't expect to miraculously heal overnight, but I had hoped that some of the pain would lessen. No luck for that, though.

She made me oatmeal, which I normally detest, but the softness and warmth in my throat made it tolerable and I was surprised when I finished the bowl. My stomach was happy, even if everything above my shoulders wasn't.

She collected up her keys and work badge, but paused before leaving for work. "Do you want me to come by at lunch and check on you?" she asked.

"Nah, babe," I said. It'd take up her whole lunch break just driving home and then back to work, with maybe five minutes to spare. "I appreciate it, but I can manage."

She kissed me on my forehead and left. I managed to doze back off.

I woke up to the sound of someone in the kitchen. At first, I thought my wife had changed her mind and stayed home, but after a minute I saw Jessie walking into the living room.

"How ya feeling?" she asked brightly.

"Meh," I said. "About the same as yesterday...MAYBE a little better."

She frowned at my tone of voice, then without preamble took her shirt off again. Those beautiful little breasts teased me again. "Well, we'll get you better in no time," she smiled.

I groaned inside. I couldn't help but think about her mouth on my dick yesterday, and I twitched under my robe again.

"About yesterday," I started to say.

"What of it?" she said, cutting me off. "It was something that I wanted to do for a while, so I took advantage of the situation."

My eyes goggled at her statement. "Something you've wanted to do?" I said, dumbfounded.

"Hell, yes," she said. "For an older guy, you're pretty hot and I knew you had a nice sized dick...I've seen that lump in your pants more than a few times." I gave her a guilty look, not realizing that she'd seen my sexual interest in her before.

She put her hand on my forehead to check for a fever, then her face wrinkled up. "Damn, you stink," she said with half a laugh. "When's the last time you took a shower?"

"The night before the surgery," I admitted.

She took both of my hands, and pulled. I was surprised at her strength. I stood, and she led me to the master bathroom. She got the shower going, then stood there expectantly.

"Well?" she said, putting her hand on her hip.

"You want me to get undressed in front of you?" I asked.

"I've seen your dick. Hell, I sucked your dick. So, yeah, get naked and get in the shower," she said.

Hesitantly, I let my robe drop and stood in front of her in all my nakedness.

"There IS something hot about a dad bod," she grinned, grabbing my shoulder and propelling me towards the steaming-hot shower. I opened the curtain, stepped in, and closed it behind me. The hot water felt wonderful, and I closed my eyes to bask in the sensation.

I felt, more than heard, the shower curtain open and when I opened my eyes, I saw her stepping into the shower with me. She was nude...God, what a vision! I'd already seen her chest and taut stomach, and the rest of her was just as nice. I glanced down...she had a shaved pussy, and it was the most beautiful pussy I'd ever seen. Trust me, I've seen quite a few and hers was absolute perfection.

She grabbed a washcloth and squirted some soap on it. "Turn around," she said. I did, and felt her washing my back. My wife had never done that. Between the hot water and the feeling of her scrubbing my back, I was barely aware of the pain in my face.

The washcloth left my back. "Ok, turn back around," she said. Slowly, I did. She took the bottle of soap and squirted it down her front, then pressed up against me. She began "washing" my front with the smooth, soft skin. My dick was trapped between me and her stomach.

I couldn't stop myself and bent over to kiss her. She giggled and danced away, turning around and backing against me. I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her close against me. She didn't resist, and melted against me.

God, I wanted to fuck her. I was only barely aware of the pain...every sensation I experienced was of her pressed tightly against me. My hand slid down her front until it covered her pussy. Soap-slicked, my finger easily spread her pussy lips to find her clit.

"Uhhhohhh," I heard her moan as my finger slowly ran circles around it. There was a heat that wasn't from the water that emanated from her, and the more I teased her clit the hotter she became. I could smell her juices mingling with the steam of the shower.

"Yesssss," she groaned as my finger went from her clit to slid inside her, then back to her clit. My dick throbbed as she gently moved against me, sliding it against her lower back as her hips moved back and forth in time with my finger's movement.

"OhhhhHHHH!" she exclaimed as I felt her pussy convulse against my finger. Her orgasm made her knees weak, and I could barely keep her upright because of the slickness of the soap covering our bodies. I held her as tightly as I could as she shuddered through her orgasm.

"Ahhh," she sighed, her strength coming back to her. Without a word, she pulled away from me and scrubbed my front, then stepped back to let me rinse off. After I did, she went to her knees under the cascading water and took me in her mouth again. I didn't last very long.

"Feel better?" she smiled as she looked up at me, her tiny hand wrapped around my shrinking dick.

"You do take my mind off of things," I grinned.

"That's my intent," she giggled, standing up. We got out of the shower and she dried herself.

"I'm not an invalid," I growled as she refused to let me dry myself and accomplished the task herself.

"Of course you are," she said, laughing. "Unless you don't WANT me to help you out?" I shook my head, a mistake since it woke up fresh pain in my face.

She found a clean robe for me, then led me back to the living room and my recliner. Tucking a blanket around me, she reheated some soup. I couldn't take my eyes off of her, since she never put any clothes on after the shower. I ate the soup, my face and throat not hurting as much as the day before, and wondering if it was because I was healing or if it was because I was distracted. A full belly, sated dick and fresh pain meds, and I was soon asleep again.

I don't know how long my wife had been home before I woke up. She commented that she really didn't mind Jessie coming over during the day because she'd done the dishes and the laundry, and made a rather heated remark that I was in no condition to take advantage of her. I managed not to smile at her comment.

I spent that night in the recliner again, and managed to get more sleep. The pain meds seemed to last a bit longer, or there wasn't as much pain to begin with. I still hurt, but it was...manageable, I guess would be the best word. After my wife went to work, I anxiously waited for Jessie to show up.

She did around 9AM, and my smile turned into a frown as I saw she had the kids with her. Normally, I liked seeing them. Little Jimmy (named after Jessie's father) at 5 years old was my little buddy and three year old Lydia (named after my wife) was just as cute as a bug. Jessie saw my face fall, and after giving me an apologetic look explained that her mother had a doctor's appointment and she didn't have another baby sitter.

The day went fairly quick. The kids played, after I explained to Jimmy about my surgery and assured him that, no, I wasn't dying. Around noon, Jessie made everyone lunch, bringing me a grilled cheese sandwich in addition to my soup. It hurt like hell going down, but I managed to finish it.

After lunch, Jimmy had fallen asleep on my lap and Lydia crashed out in mid-block building on the floor. Jessie took Jimmy from me. "I'll put them down on your bed, if you don't mind," she said quietly. I nodded.

When she returned, she walked up to the side of my recliner and slowly pulled her shirt up. Again, she was bra-less, and gently guided my head towards her bared skin. I kissed her taut stomach, and nursed on her nipples for a minute before she danced away. "I don't want the kids to see anything," she said, lowering her shirt and stepping away from me. Reluctantly, I nodded. My dick was hard, but I reluctantly agreed with her that we shouldn't do anything with the kids there.