Melissa Campbell looked thoughtful as she replaced the phone on its cradle. It was the hospital calling with the news. Forty eight hours her husband, Derek, had been lying comatose in intensive care after the car crash, but it looked like he was going to pull through. The doctor wanted to see her as soon as possible for a "little chat" as he put it.

A couple of hours later, Melissa was sitting in Dr Marlow's office. It was her first visit ... there'd been no point coming while Derek was unconscious.

"Oh god, paralysed from the neck down ... poor Derek!" exclaimed Melissa, a shocked look on her lovely face at the news.

"I'm sorry Mrs Campbell, but there is one..."

"Please call me Melissa," she managed a smile. "Mrs Campbell makes me sound so old."

"I'm sorry Melissa," smiled Dr Marlow, "but there is one piece of good news."

"What's that, Doctor?"

The doctor looked at Melissa Campbell, debating how to approach what was quite a delicate matter. She was a real looker, this one, he thought ... gorgeous, actually ... and what, mid twenties maybe? Christ, must be a good twenty years younger than that poor husband of hers.

He found his eyes straying a little. There was nothing slutty about the yellow sundress she was wearing but it was clingy and quite low cut, showing some cleavage, and it was rather short too. A dress which emphasised, rather than played down, the lush female sexiness of her body.

He mentally slapped himself, dragged his gaze back to where it was meant to be. Unprofessional, he chided himself. Come on.

If the doctor was worried his furtive ogling would offend the sexy young woman sat opposite, he was fretting needlessly. Melissa knew he was admiring her and she didn't mind one bit. She was used to this from men and she enjoyed it. She'd been sitting demurely since they'd started talking but now, seeing the effect she was having on him, she made a point of leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs. She did it slowly, sexily, allowed the hem of her dress to slide a fair way up her legs. She smiled to herself as Dr Marlow struggled manfully not to stare at her exposed thighs. Not that she fancied him in any way, he was a rather ordinary looking man in his fifties, but it was fun to tease!

"You were saying, Doctor?" she smiled, "A piece of good news?"

The poor man seemed to have lost his thread!

"Ah yes, that's right." With an effort, he pulled himself together. Fabulous legs! "So, what is it?" she prompted.

"Well ... er ... the thing is..."

"C'mon Doc, tell me. I'm a big girl now," and she leaned forward towards him, signifying her keen interest in whatever it was he had to say. The movement had the effect of providing the good doctor with a mouth watering view of her delicious breasts. The way they were nestling inside the tiny white lace bra, he found that he could see quite a lot ... a hint of nipple even! ... and somehow, it was way more tantalising than if she weren't wearing a bra at all.

He forced himself to maintain eye contact.

Which was disconcerting in itself since she had the most gorgeous, liquid brown eyes. Matched her hair in colour, he noticed ... beautiful hair, luxuriant, wavy but not curled. Flawless skin too ... silky smooth looking, lightly tanned. Oh god and her mouth, those full sensuous lips! ... just the right amount of red lipstick.

Concentrate!

"Yes, so the thing is ... although, like I said, your husband is paralysed from the neck down..."

"So all he can do is move his head around, right?" prodded Melissa, a little impatient.

She leaned back again, her tits no longer flaunted in front of the doctor, and that made it slightly easier for him. Then she uncrossed her legs, slowly crossed them back the other way, dress sliding up a little more, and that didn't make things at all easier. Neither did the fact she'd fixed him with a calm and level gaze which seemed to indicate she knew exactly what was going on in his head. That wasn't true obviously, she was just concerned for the well being of her poor husband, but it was nevertheless disconcerting.

"Yes, that's what we usually find in cases such as these," he continued, "but with your husband..."

"What, he can't even do that?"

Oh god, she was dangling one of her shoes on the end of her toes now ... her pretty, red painted toes ... the woman didn't realise what she was doing to him! The doctor had quite a hard-on now and, what was worse, he could have sworn that Melissa was looking down at his crutch, every now and again, and had spotted the tell tale bulge.

Guess not though because she didn't seem offended in any way. She was smiling actually.

"No listen, it's good news remember?" he said, desperately focusing on what he needed to tell her ... was his professional duty to tell her.

"Oh yeah."

"So yes, he CAN do that," continued Dr Marlow, "and he can do something else too ... he can still use a part of his body that's ... um ... quite a way below his neck, if you know what I mean?"

"Not sure I do know what you mean Doctor, no," said Melissa, curious.

The doctor knew he had to stop beating about the bush. "His manhood, Melissa, ... it's unaffected. Very unusual but does happen sometimes."

"He can take a pee, you mean?" asked Melissa.

"Well yes ... with a little help, obviously," said Doctor Marlow. "But what you might be more interested in is it means he can still be a husband to you in certain ... er ... important respects."

"Oh wow! You mean he still gets turned on, gets erections and stuff when he feels horny!" Melissa was laughing in delight. "Oh Doctor Marlow, that's wonderful news!"

Dr Marlow looked at the pleasure etched across Melissa's achingly pretty face, as she realised she could still share sexual pleasure with her crippled husband, and for a moment or two he rather wished he could trade places with Derek Campbell, car crash or no car crash.

"It is, isn't it?" he smiled.

"And he can come home soon?" asked Melissa.

"That's not such good news, I'm afraid," said Dr Marlow.

"Oh."

"You see, Mrs Campbell..."

"Melissa."

"Melissa, sorry," he smiled apologetically, "Look, Derek is almost completely paralysed ... the only thing he can move is his head, and so..."

"And his dick," she interrupted, grinning at him.

"Indeed, that too," he felt like grinning along with her but managed to restrain himself. "But nevertheless, he's going to require round the clock care, so I recommend that he stays here for the foreseeable future."

"Okay, guess that's best," said Melissa, agreeing more readily than Dr Marlow thought she might. He'd been braced for an argument, expected her to maybe insist on looking after him herself, but thankfully it looked like, despite her young years, she was mature enough to accept the inevitable.

"But can't he come home occasionally?" she asked now.

Dr Marlow was expecting the question and was glad she'd asked it. "Yes, of course," he smiled, pleased to be back in good news mode. "He can visit once a week, a couple of hours every Saturday, I've signed it off."

"What, somebody will deliver him to me?"

"Absolutely, Mrs Campbell..."

"It's Melissa."

"Melissa. Yes, a member of our staff will bring him to you on Saturday afternoons at two o'clock, and he'll be all yours until, say, five? How does that sound?"

"He'll be all mine?" Melissa smiled.

"Yes, of course. And we'll make sure he's been ... um ... toileted and that sort of thing, so all you need to worry about is..."

"Other things?" she said, looking knowingly at the doctor.

"Exactly!" he said, congratulating himself on how this had gone. The woman had obviously cottoned on to what these home visits were meant to entail ... although not just that of course, they could talk too! ... and the doctor was mightily relieved because, in his recent chats with Derek, the poor man had made it pretty clear that the thought of still being able to have sex, of sorts, with his gorgeous young wife was the only thing staving off feelings of utter despair.

"So, let me see if I've got this straight, Doc," said Melissa. "Poor Derek is completely paralysed from the neck down and he'll be stuck in a wheelchair for the rest of life, only able to move his head ... but his dick still works and he's going to feel horny every time he looks at me?"

"Yep."

"He's going to get a hard-on, just like before, but he'll need my help to do anything about it. Otherwise, he'll be stuck with a hard-on and he'll be completely unable to ... um ... relieve himself?"

"You got it."

There was something very sexy about the way Melissa was giggling now. The doctor could tell how much she was looking forward already to these Saturday afternoon home visits and he experienced another unworthy stab of jealousy towards Derek Campbell.

"And, in the right ... er ... position, you should even be able to make love to him in the normal way. Children perhaps, who knows?" said Dr Marlow, smiling encouragingly.

"I see," she nodded, bringing the giggling back under some sort of control, "that will be nice for him, won't it? ... sounds like I'd better fix up the downstairs bedroom!"

The doctor couldn't help but be impressed with her immediate grasp of the practical issues around sex and paralysed husbands.

"And when can we start all this?" she asked.

"No reason why we can't say this Saturday coming," he smiled. "So tomorrow, I make that."

"Fabulous!" she exclaimed. "I'll be expecting him."

Melissa got up to go. "Thank you so much Doctor," she grinned. "I'll see myself out."

"Don't you want to see Derek now," he smiled. "He's conscious, you know?"

"Nah, I'd rather wait till tomorrow ... build up the anticipation, you know what I mean, Doc?" she winked.

"Um, guess so," he said, although he thought it was a little strange.

"See ya, Doc," she giggled, as she got up to leave.

"Okay Mrs Campbell."

"Melissa," she grinned.

"Okay Melissa, see you then."

His eyes followed her, lusted after her, as she sashayed out of his office, wiggling her luscious bum in the tight dress. She turned and blew him a pouty little kiss as she disappeared. "Thanks again, Doc," she said.

"No problem."

Phew! Hot stuff or what!

He took a while to compose himself and then he went off to report back to Derek.

Melissa walked quickly to her car. She couldn't wait to tell James about this!

When you're only 24 and you marry a man twice your age for his money, which is what Melissa had done a couple of years ago, you need to look elsewhere for satisfaction in the bedroom, and James Green, a hunky 21 year old auto mechanic, was the latest of her diversions.

She was on the phone to him as soon as she got in.

"Yeah, can you imagine? ... I know, poor bastard ... yeah and James, I told you he's gone and put all his money in my name, didn't I? ... mmm, some sort of tax scam apparently ... nah, he hasn't got a medical policy ... yeah, so now he's totally dependent on me ... I know baby, I know, funny isn't it? ... every Saturday afternoon, yeah, starting tomorrow ... two till five, then they come pick him up and take him back to the hospital ... yeah, totally helpless ... should be fun, sugar, shouldn't it? ... yeah I thought of that too, and a few other things spring to mind ... well we can pretty much do what we want, can't we baby? ... yeah, yeah, stuff like that ... what? ... god you're an evil bastard, you know that? ... stop it! ... just play it by ear, I guess ... no marks though, maybe best if you take your lead from me ... ah ha ... yeah definitely! ... okay baby, see you tonight ... ooo, is that a promise? ... well good, 'cos I'm feeling horny as hell ... yeah, we can talk about it some more ... mmm, have a bit of a giggle ... yeah okay sugar, whenever ... see ya."

Melissa hung up and smiled, thinking about Derek lying paralysed and helpless in his hospital bed. She'd never loved Derek, of course, not even liked him ... it had been all about his money and now she'd got that, courtesy of his oh so clever tax planning.

Hoist with his own petard!

The medical news couldn't have been better as far as Melissa was concerned. She'd wished him dead, when she first heard about the accident, but this was kind of better, definitely more fun that's for sure! ... and that thing about his dick still being operational, well that was the icing on the cake, wasn't it? She giggled out loud ... god, must be so frustrating for a man, getting horny all the time but not able to do a damn thing about it ... jeez, the poor sod couldn't even jerk himself off!

She wondered if there were any young, pretty nurses to drive him nuts, up there at the hospital ... ooo she did hope so!

She would leave him, obviously, before too long, she'd go off and spend all his money, play the field with as many gorgeous young hunks as she could handle, but there were a few Saturday afternoons to be enjoyed first. Poor little Derek, wonder what he was thinking right now?

Melissa would have laughed if she'd known the answer to that. What Derek Campbell was actually thinking about, at that very moment, was her. More precisely, his gorgeous young wife, naked, straddling him, riding them both to a shattering, mutual orgasm. Every Saturday.

Dr Marlow had told him about his talk with Melissa, how delighted she'd been to hear they could still have sexual relations, and Derek's spirits had soared. He'd been a little concerned that Melissa might not be interested, making love to a cripple just too much of a turn off for her, but it looked like his fears were groundless. She must love him very much.

The only slight downer was that she hadn't come to see him today but the doctor said that was because she was very excited about tomorrow and needed to rush home and get everything ready. She'd mentioned fixing up the downstairs bedroom, apparently ... the doctor had smiled when he said that and Derek, although a little embarrassed, had smiled shyly back at him.

Yes, Melissa must love him very much indeed, mustn't she? ... the prospect of life in a wheelchair, as a helplessly paralysed cripple, didn't now seem quite so terrible. The young nurse who came to feed him that evening certainly noticed a difference from earlier. When she'd brought his breakfast, it'd been almost impossible to feed it to him, what with all the shaking of the head and the awful crying, but dinner was a dream. They even had a chat about this and that, inconsequential but nice, and when they were through, he was lying there grinning from ear to ear ... what a brave and lovely man, she thought.

On the dot of 2 pm, Melissa heard a vehicle parking outside. Couple of minutes later the bell rang, and there he was.

"Darling!" cried Melissa, flinging open the door. "Oh my darling, come on inside."

"Over to you then, Mrs Campbell," smiled Phillip, the male nurse, "I'll be back at five to collect him."

"Thanks so much!" she gushed, "and it's Melissa, by the way."

"So, see you at five, Melissa," he called, walking back to the hospital van in which they'd made the short trip.

Melissa waved him off, then closed the door and wheeled Derek into the large lounge. She parked him in the middle of the room and went to stand in front of him.

"You look wonderful, you really do," she said, grinning down at her wheelchair bound husband and thinking how pathetic he looked.

"There's only one person in this room looking wonderful, darling girl, and it's sure not me," grinned Derek, drinking in the view of his sexy young wife. She was wearing a short denim skirt ... bare legs, no shoes ... and a flimsy lace top, low cut with spaghetti straps and no bra. She looked delicious enough to eat and Derek felt an immediate stirring in his loins. Thank god he still had that, he told himself, for about the thousandth time since yesterday.

"Why thank you, honey, I did make an effort you know," said Melissa, giving a little twirl, striking a sexy pose.

"I know how you like me in short skirts," she giggled.

"Come here, honey," said Derek.

"But you're a sick man, sweetheart," she teased.

"Please, honey."

Melissa, smiling, came forward and settled herself onto his lap in the wheelchair. She draped an arm around his neck and rested the other on his knee.

"Welcome home, darling," she whispered into his ear, wriggling her bum against his crotch.

"Mmmm, so the doctor was right about that, I see," she said teasingly, "or should I say I feel?"

"You can see too if you like, darling," grunted Derek.

God, he wanted his hot young wife so badly ... the feel of her buttocks squirming around in his lap, the smell of her perfume, the way her luscious breasts looked in the skimpy little top, on display right in front of his face ... oh god, he wanted her!

To say that Derek Campbell was tingling with anticipation was a contender for understatement of the century. He was looking forward to the rest of the afternoon as much as anything he could remember.

And so was Melissa.

"Really, can I see it?" she purred into his ear.

"Yeah, I want you to," grunted Derek.

Melissa got up and knelt in front of her expectant husband. "Mmm, now let me see," she giggled, and she undid his trousers, slid them out from under his backside, and pulled them down to his ankles. It was a difficult manoeuvre but she managed it without too much trouble. Then she did the same with his boxers so his lower half was completely exposed.

She stood and surveyed her handiwork, fighting to keep a straight face. A middle aged cripple in a wheelchair, naked from the waist down with his trousers round his ankles, erect cock sticking skywards, stupid grin on his face ... oh yes, and wearing a too small for him black tee-shirt with "Life's a Beach" on the front in yellow lettering. Could a person look more ridiculous?

"Oooo! ... is that because of me, darling?" she grinned, looking down at his cock.

"Yeah, baby girl," he groaned. "God I want you, Melissa!"

Melissa moved closer to Derek, reached down and ran a finger teasingly up and down the side of his cock. "Oooo, so hard!" she giggled. The way she was leaning forward, her top had gaped open and her tits were once again tantalising her husband.

She carried on teasing his cock for a while, then she kissed him ... a soft, sexy kiss on the lips. She broke away and grinned at him. Derek was very excited now, his face flushed and his eyes roaming lustfully up and down his hot young wife. He clearly wanted, needed, a whole lot more.

"I've got the downstairs bedroom all ready for us, my darling," said Melissa, in a little girl voice, stoking his desire, feeding his anticipation, enjoying the way he was looking at her ... kind of like a hungry dog with a juicy bone ... a dog that couldn't quite reach the bone, thought Melissa, inwardly giggling ... oh what a delicious situation!

"Oh yeah, baby," said Derek, giving her his very best wolfish grin. This beat any of those so-called therapies offered by the hospital. He felt like a proper man again. God, Melissa looked hot in that little skirt! ... and she was going look even hotter without it, of course!

"But lunch first, I think," Melissa announced. "You must be famished, poor darling."

Disappointment flashed across Derek's face but he quickly adjusted. He was hungry after all, hadn't eaten today and had missed dinner last night in his excitement at this visit ... so why not eat first and then get on to the main event? In any case, it would be nice to have his lovely young wife feeding him, instead of some strange nurse.

"Lead the way, honey," he smiled, "but maybe pull my pants up first?"

Melissa giggled. "But I'll only be pulling them down again later, Derek. Better to leave them as they are ... don't you think?"

"Um, okay Melissa," he mumbled, feeling a little uncomfortable but not wanting to argue with her.

Melissa wheeled him into the dining room where the table was laid for two with a delicious looking spread of cold cuts and fresh fruit. There was a bottle of champagne, chilling in an ice bucket. "Wow! ... makes a change from hospital food," exclaimed Derek, impressed and a little moved by the effort his wife had obviously gone to. Maybe it was worth becoming crippled for life if this was the result!

Melissa parked him on one side of the table, then she walked around and sat opposite.

"So, why don't you open our champagne, darling? ... you know I love it when a man deals with that sort of thing for me."

"Er ... Melissa darling ... have you forgotten?" mumbled Derek, a little embarrassed.

Melissa stared at him, looking confused. Then her expression changed and she looked mortified. "Oh my darling, I'm so sorry," she exclaimed, running around the table to give him a hug. "Oh what was I thinking?"

"Don't worry, my darling," smiled Derek, "I just wish I could forget too."

"My poor, helpless baby," said Melissa. She gave his cock a little squeeze and went back to her place.

Melissa put some chicken, some ham and some salad on a plate and placed it in front of Derek. She selected a peach for herself and started eating it.

"Eat up, darling," she said, smiling sweetly at him.

"I can't darling, you have to ... you know ... feed me," he muttered, feeling a little put out that Melissa kept forgetting he was paralysed in a wheelchair.

Melissa just smiled and carried on eating her peach. The fruit was ripe and she ate it carelessly, allowing the juice to trickle down her chin and onto her top. "Oh yuck, look what I've done!" she said, looking down at the spilled juice. "Think I'd better take it off. You don't mind if I take my top off, do you Derek?"

"Course not, baby," he grinned, "can't wait!" ... maybe things were picking up!

"Wish you could take it off for me, honey," she pouted.

"Oh god, me too!"

Melissa sighed and pulled her top off. She was now sitting topless opposite the drooling Derek.

She let him drool for a while, enjoying the situation ... his helplessness ... her power.

"Not forgetting your lunch, are you?" she teased. "Oh yes, you need my help don't you, sweetie?" she grinned, reaching towards his plate with her fork.

"Chicken or ham first, sweetie?"

"Er ... chicken," said Derek. He was, in fact, extremely hungry.

Melissa got a piece of chicken on her fork and moved it towards his mouth. "What about a please?" she said in a rather mocking tone of voice.

"Please Melissa, chicken," said Derek, slightly concerned about how his wife was behaving.

"Pretty please?" she giggled, waving the fork around in his face.

"Okay, pretty please," he pleaded, feeling very ill at ease now.

"Here, baby," she said, putting the piece of chicken to his lips.

Derek opened his mouth and went for it but Melissa moved it just out of reach.

"C'mon baby, I slaved all morning with this ... eat it!" she snapped.

Poor Derek craned his head forward to get at the food but Melissa again moved the fork so he couldn't manage it. "Okay, maybe just smell it then," she chuckled and she held the food under his nose, smeared it against his nostrils. He shifted his head around to try to get the food into his mouth but Melissa kept moving it just out of reach. The cruel pantomime continued for a while, Derek getting more and more distressed and Melissa just laughing at him.

"Please stop Melissa, this is not funny," he implored.

"Oh but it is, Derek," she laughed, "it's very funny."

She was clearly mocking him now and Derek just wanted to leave. He'd been wrong about his wife. She didn't love him. She was a cruel little bitch and he resolved to make this the last time he saw her.

"Bet you're wishing you were back in the hospital, aren't you?" she taunted.

"You little bitch!" he spat.

"Aren't you forgetting something, sweetie?"

"Fuck off, bitch."

"Well, let me remind you then," she said, an evil smile on her lovely face. "You have no money, remember? It's all in my name, is it not? ... yes, it is, and so the thing is sweetie, if you don't behave yourself, you'll be out of that nice high end hospital and into the biggest shithole I can find before you even catch your breath ... you got that Derek, honey?"

Oh god she was right! He thought about it for a second and realised, with a sinking heart, that his wife had him at her mercy. Galling as it was, he better had "behave" as she put it.

"Um, okay Melissa," he mumbled.

"You gonna behave for the rest of the afternoon?"

"Yes, Melissa."

"And you're gonna keep visiting every Saturday until I get bored with you?"

"Yes, Melissa."

"Thought I was a little bitch?" she mocked.

"No, Melissa."

"A bitch with great tits though, right?" she taunted, fondling her breasts, grinning at him.

Derek sat silent. Despite his predicament, the sight of Melissa's fabulous tits across the table was tantalising in the extreme and his cock was stirring again. If only he could get out of this damned wheelchair and jump the teasing bitch!

"Aw, poor Derek," she pouted, knowing exactly what he was thinking, "I shouldn't tease you like this, should I? ... getting you horny again, aren't I?"

"Yes, Melissa."

"Yes what, baby?"

"You're making me horny," he mumbled, feeling completely powerless now.

"Oooo I am looking forward to all these Saturday's we're going to have together," she giggled. "Just think of the ways I can torment you ... I can do what I like, can't I darling? ... and you can't do a damn thing about it, can you? ... aw poor baby, just look at you ... stuck there like that, all crippled and paralysed and..."

"Didn't you ever love me?" blurted Derek, not wanting to listen to this any longer.

"Loved your money, darling, your money," she chuckled. "Shouldn't have given it to me, should you?"

He knew that now, of course, but he also knew it was too late. The transaction was not reversible.

"Champagne time, don't you think?" said Melissa. "Trouble is, I need a big, strong, able bodied man ... you know Derek, a proper man ... to open it, don't I?"

Derek's eyes were glistening as he fought to hold back the tears.

Melissa, cool and amused, just looked at him for a few seconds. This was such fun!

"Oh James," she called out, relishing the shock on her poor husband's face, "I need you for something, baby."

And James Green strolled into the room ... a hunky looking young man, wearing nothing but boxers and a shit-eating grin.

"Hey, gorgeous," he said, winking at Melissa.

"Hiya, hun," said Melissa, winking back.

"So, who's the spastic?" said James, looking at Derek

"That's my husband, Derek," she giggled, "and he's not up to the job of opening the champagne, so I thought maybe you could do it? ... that okay, baby?"

"Sure, babe," said James, with a smug little smile.

He picked up the champagne bottle from the table and popped the cork in a fluent, practised movement.

"My hero," squealed Melissa.

"Who is this, Melissa?" Derek managed to mumble.

"James is my friend, sweetie, my ... um ... very good friend, if you know what I mean?"

Derek knew exactly what she meant and the full horror of his situation hit him full bore. He gave up the fight against the tears and he started to weep.

James poured some champagne into the two glasses, gave one to Melissa. "Cheers, gorgeous," he said, and they clinked glasses.

"Hey baby, aren't you going to give some to my blubbering husband?" grinned Melissa.

"Why not?" said James, still holding the bottle. "He looks like he could use a drink or three, poor bastard."

Grinning, he strolled around and stood next to Derek, holding the bottle over his head.

"Would you like some champagne, Derek?" asked Melissa.

Derek shook his head in distress.

"He says yes, baby," she giggled at James.

James tipped the bottle and lazily poured the rest of the drink over Derek's head. Melissa looked on, laughing uncontrollably.

"Oh James, you've drenched the poor man," she said, when she'd finally stopped laughing, "and it's gone all over his nice tee-shirt too."

"Yeah, well maybe he should take his shirt off," grinned James.

"He can't, baby, he's a spastic," pointed out Melissa, "you better do it for him."

So James, who was completely in thrall to Melissa, did exactly that. He pulled Derek's shirt off and tossed it into the corner of the room.

"Do you wanna eat something, babe?" asked Melissa.

"Fuck, yeah, I'm starving," said James, and he moved Derek away from the table, pulled up a chair and sat where Derek had just been. He was about to tuck in when he noticed something out of the corner of his eye.

"Mel, baby, the dude's got his pants round his ankles and his dick's on show."

"Yeah I know. I was just ... er ... playing around with him a little bit before you got here."