” Hearing that, I throw my blankets off, swinging my legs over my bed, and sliding into my robe in the blink of an eye. I whip open my bedroom door, brushing past my mother without a word, I hurry down the stairs and into the kitchen where I know I've left my phone. “Hello, yes? This is Olivia.” “Hello Mrs. Reed, could you please come down to the hospital so we can speak in person?” I can tell by Doctor Evans's tone that something terrible has happened. “But why? Why can't you tell me now? What's wrong?” I ask, trembling, my nerves on edge. “Please, Mrs. Reed, just come down to the hospital.” I agree, knowing he is pressing pretty hard. I rush upstairs and throw on a pair of sweats and a sweatshirt, I don't care about what I look like. I just want to know what is going on with my husband. It only takes me twenty minutes to dress, drive and get to the entrance of the hospital. I park in the emergency parking lot, as it is closer to Rob's room. Making my way up to his floor in no time.. "It's no good babe ... it's like flogging a dead horse."Earlier that evening I had lost wood during a session of rumpty pumpty, and Gwen had been forced to give mouth to groin resuscitation to restore my libido, which unfortunately was a wasted effort. This wasn't the first time over the last few days I had failed to give Gwen the shagging she deserved; the shagging she expected and, quite rightly, she got bloody angry when I didn't come good —pun.The session would start off well enough; my prick, steel stiff, sliding smoothly in and out of her clenching, tactile, twat, but after five of so minutes of pleasurable movement rigidity would vanish, and it became like pushing a dead worm up a chimney; no grip, no friction, no pleasure. I began apologising, again, but she stopped me with a look."I feel you at first, then your cock just goes limp, and you seem to disappear. Have you gone off me already, babe?" Her voice held a justifiable hint of anger.I shook my head emphatically. "Hell.
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