Last night was not my finer moments.
For the first time in our marriage....
I sent her to the hospital for something other than delivering a baby, or covid, or even when she bruised her tailbone trying to pop a wheelie on our son's dirtbike.
We were hot and heavy into fucking when she started wincing in pain.
I stopped thrusting, but she begged me to finish her off, because she was close to her big O.
She got it, and then started screaming in pain when I pulled out.
Today.
I went to see her over my lunch break.
The Gyno, had this look of pure hatred and disgust when I entered her room.
"You should know better that women are not meant for hardcore marathon fucking."
She started tearing into me, when my wife stopped her, as it was my wife who was extremely horny for some reason.
So they are keeping her for a couple of days to run some tests, but the preliminary diagnosis after an X-ray, and ultrasound is that her cervix is battered, but not fubar. She will have to abstain from sex for a couple of weeks, and they will get back to her when her test results are in.
I sat there with her for half and hour in shame and silence. I could have said no. I could have walked away. But she was so damned sexy when that turned on.
She just stroked my hand and smiled the same smile as she did when we done fucked something up when we were younger, and she knew we were going to be in trouble.
The same smile she had in the car when she told me she was pregnant for the first time.
The same smile she had when we stolen the golf cart from the drunk asshole in our neighborhood who thought a golf cart wont get him a DUI. We drove that thing, until she tried to jump a ditch, failed, and almost broke my arm and leg trying to stop her from getting hurt.
The same smile when our first landlord scolded us for the small kitchen fire when she tried to make fried chicken.
That smile was never a relief, but a promise everything will be fine as long as we are together.
But it felt almost like my dad felt when mom was first hospitalized when her health started to decline.
It Hurt like all fuck.
So when I left her to return to work, at her insistence, she practically kicked me out of her room, because I was crying like a loony fool, I bought her favorite cookies, and her favorite magazines, and after work I will drop them off with some clothes to come home in.
Why the fuck does something so minor as a bruised cervix hurt me more than its hurting her?