Many people in all age groups today refer to it as the big "C" rather than utter the scary of scaries: Cancer!

My husband was a decent provider, nothing super successful. We had a son within the first year of marriage and then William lost that magic inner drive (libido) that makes so many men pliable to their women.

The only time (after the first year) that I was able to get William to have a protracted sexual session was when I finally agreed to fellate him!

I never found the idea of sucking a dick very desirable, especially having grown up with brothers whose pee stains in their undies made me think all men were unsanitary.

Mom never went down on dad, either - she confided to me when I asked her.

So I made William promise to shower beforehand and wouldn't you know that the first thing he did after the shower was take a sloppy leak! He didn't even entirely miss the toilet seat, which gave me second thoughts; but I needed the sex badly, and I got some kleenex ready.

I reminded William that our son Billy (William Jr.) was asleep in his crib and to keep the noise to a minimum as we got into bed.

Will went right into a contrapose, no foreplay (unless you count the way he mauled my breasts, pinching and squeezing), and I soon found myself staring at this barely hard appendage of his.

I daubed a wet spot of kleenex into his pee slit which softened him even more when suddenly William pulled my hips down and onto his face!

For the briefest of moments, I got a buzz as my husband's tongue showed a hidden talent, but he hadn't shaved - and in his family runs a propensity for thick, wiry hair.

It felt like I was being stimulated by a cheese grater! I was losing a layer of skin from my inner thighs and part of my taint (perineum).

If Edison had use of William's hair, he could have perfected a light bulb filament ten years earlier!

But through it all, that talented tongue was hitting my clitty over and over until I was pleased to do my part for him and I engulfed William's bulbous head.

As his penis scraped its way against my oral tissues, William's libido took control of him and his hips rotated just so slightly in an effort to seat that growing menace deeper inside my mouth/throat.

Meanwhile, I was grateful that tongue works well for either sex and I rotated MY hips in an effort to send William's tongue up inside me!

He got the drift and ate me like I was a dinner buffet, even nipping at my delicate tissues with his teeth!

Meanwhile, his hips kept driving his bone deeper inside my oral cavity until I felt it knock at the hollow near my throat, which made me gag somewhat.

Will pulled back and began a slow fucking rhythm in my mouth as he brought me to orgasm despite the pain I was experiencing on my thighs.

At this point, Will would have been happy to discontinue the "69" and finish with some straight old missionary sex.

It was my own fault that I dreaded kissing his face with my cum all over it, and as messy as he was, he would have spread that goo even to my hair and breasts; so I grabbed the back of William's head and forced him to bring me off again, grinding my hips against his sandpaper face.

Well, he was now so into it that he fucked MY face harder, and soon enough, he warned me to "get ready".

A million thoughts went through my mind - did he want to pull out and spray my face with cum? - he'd no doubt have stuck my eye shut with it.

Did he still want to finish the old fashioned way - I hoped not.

But as the pace got really fast, I knew the decision was no longer available, and when the next deep thrust tickled my tonsils, William washed them with his first spurt.

He tried to pull out (for my sake - I'll give him that) but I figured the worst was done so I held on for dear life and let my man explode every drop he had into my mouth!

I couldn't swallow fast enough - I gagged as the final spurts washed out of my nostrils!

During the "post mortem", William told me he never knew I had such a hidden talent, as if he expected all our future sex to be that way!

After coughing out the remaining goo from my nasal passages and using half the kleenex box in the process, I told my husband that sex isn't supposed to be a life threatening experience for the woman!

"You couldn't even shave for me?" I sarcastically asked.

About ten days later, and during my fertile time, William was suddenly horny for an encore.

I told him, "No way, Jose! I don't want to go to the hospital!"

Right then, William stepped in front of me and dropped his drawers - there was his hardening penis, completely shaven clean - balls too!

I almost let William see me well up with tears that he thought of me enough to try that, but one look at his "five o'clock shadow" brought me back to reality.

I said, "When I asked you to shave, I meant your FACE. You gave my thighs second degree burns with that beard!"

The way he slinked off in defeat made me feel like shit, and I suddenly got the notion that little Willy would do well to have a baby sister.

When William returned completely shaven smooth (no stubble), I knew we were going to make a baby that night.

Not to put a strain on the marriage, I told William that I was fertile and this was bound to be a procreational union and not simply recreational.

The soreness had abated from between my thighs from William's earlier stubble, and I toyed with the idea of letting him chew me properly, but I didn't want to gag again, so I told him I would not waste his sperm in my mouth tonight.

He had no problem with that, but then deftly dove down at the right time (not contraposed), his way of buying me candy or flowers I guess, and Will slurped my well trimmed clit until I moaned in orgasm.

Then, with my hands folded behind my head, I let William get on top of me and bury his seven or more inches inside my pussy as we kissed sloppily.

It was a wonderful, unexpected bonus, the cleanly shaven ramrod, as well as the cleanly shaven face, and Will made it even sexier when he vocalized what we were doing.

"Fell it honey," he said, "we're making Billy there a little "brother" right now!"

A brother? Well, if that's how a man thinks, fine, I thought as I responded, "Yes, fill me up right now - give me that baby making load - cum inside me and make me pregnant - NOW!"

As if the words themselves triggered it, Will sped up to his final tempo and began shooting jet after jet after jet of baby goo so deep inside me that we planned the addition the very next day, when we performed the ritual encore almost necessary to ensure fertilization.

But then it didn't happen!

When I got my next period, I cried, I was so dissappointed, even though I knew fertilization is never "odds on" with any one encounter.

Then, for several months it didn't happen again and we each thought the other had problems with their sexual equipment.

I got tested first because someone had to break the ice. I was okay.

William's sperm count was excellent also, but the "motility" (movement) was almost non-existent!

Very quickly, the doctor suspected testicular cancer and did biopsies.

Once confirmed, I raced back to my OB/GYN and informed him of William's and my recent sexual history and wanted to find out if William's cancerous semen was any threat to my body.

The doctor asked, "Zero motility?"

I confirmed.

He then said, "Without motility, the sperm are totally unable to swim. Therefore, they should not even have been able to exit the vagina into the uterus. If you want to feel safer, simply perform a thorough douche. If you're using vinegar and water, the acid will overpower any "c" cells they encounter."

Then I hesitated to ask, but finally summoned up the courage, saying, "but what if... what if we, I mean I..."

"No need to be embarrassed," the doctor cut in, smiling, "the acid in your stomach is way more powerful than vinegar - it will kill anything!"

My feeling of relief was short lived, for when I got home, William stared at me through eyes that had been crying for a long time.

"It has already invaded my lymphatic system. I'm done for - he said maybe six months. MAYBE!" William sobbed.

Then he confessed that he was the third straight in his line to develop cancer, and that I should check Billy no less often than every six months for the rest of his life!

Because of his family history, William had the foresight to maximize his insurances, personal and at work.

We needed the services of an attorney to collect, but we were able to prove there was no pre-existing condition, which is what the insurers tried to pull on us to get out of paying in full.