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By HanSolo
A woman is willing to try anything to wake her husband from his coma.
In the dimming twilight of a late summer evening, Elizabeth sat by the bedside of her husband, James, in room 408 of St. Mary’s Hospital. The room was quiet, save for the soft beeping of medical equipment that had become the soundtrack to her life for the past six months. James lay still, his once vibrant eyes now closed to the world, his body trapped in a coma since a catastrophic car accident had stolen him away from their shared life.
Elizabeth was a shadow of her former self; days had stretched into weeks, and weeks into months, with each passing day her hope dwindling like the last rays of sunlight through the hospital window. She had tried every conventional method—prayer, music therapy, reading to him, even the touch of his favorite dog, Max—but nothing had stirred him from his silent sleep.
But tonight, something was different. A desperate, wild thought had taken root in her heart, fueled by months of loneliness and an aching desire to see him smile once more. She remembered the intimate moments they shared, moments where words were unnecessary, where their love was spoken in hushed moans and the gentle rhythm of their bodies.
With the room locked for privacy, Elizabeth approached James, her heart pounding with a mix of fear and anticipation. She whispered to him, “I’m here, James, I’m here to bring you back to me.” Her voice was a mix of hope and heartache.
She began by undressing him slowly, her fingers trembling as she undid his hospital gown. The sight of his body, so familiar yet so distant now, brought tears to her eyes. She leaned over him, her breath warm against his skin as she kissed his chest, his neck, whispering love into every touch.
Her hands, now more confident, moved lower, her fingers tracing the lines of his body, a body she knew by heart. She reached his groin, her touch gentle yet purposeful. She felt him, limp but warm, and she took him into her mouth with a reverence that only true love could muster.
Her tongue danced around him, coaxing life back into him. She felt a surge of hope as she felt him begin to harden. “James, please,” she murmured, her tears mingling with her saliva. His body responded; his fingers twitched, a slight movement, but it was enough to send a wave of joy through her.
Encouraged, she continued with fervor, her mouth enveloping him completely, her head bobbing with a rhythm that was both desperate and tender. His legs started to jerk, a sign of life, of response, something she hadn’t seen in months. Her own body ached with longing, but her focus was solely on him, on bringing him back.
She used every technique she knew, every memory of their nights together to guide her. Her hands caressed his thighs, moving up to his chest, feeling his heartbeat quicken under her touch. James’s moans were faint but audible, a sound that seemed to crack the silence of his coma. The room filled with the soft, wet sounds of her efforts, each noise like a prayer for his awakening.
Tears streamed down her face as she felt him grow harder, his body reacting more than it had in months. His hips began to move, thrusting slightly into her mouth, an automatic response that filled her with both joy and a primal need. She could taste him, the familiar saltiness, the essence of him. Her movements became more urgent, her mouth working him with love and lust, her hands now gripping him, guiding him towards release.
And then it happened. His body tensed, his moans louder, his hips bucking as he reached his climax. Elizabeth kept him in her mouth, feeling him pulse, tasting him as he ejaculated. Her eyes were closed, savoring every moment, every drop, her heart swelling with a mixture of love, relief, and an odd sense of victory.
As she slowly opened her eyes, her mouth still around him, she saw him. James was looking down at her, his eyes wide with recognition, a smile spreading across his face. It was the smile she had fallen in love with, the one that had been her light for so many years.
“Elizabeth,” he whispered, his voice hoarse from disuse but filled with love. She pulled back, tears now of joy streaming down her face, meeting his gaze. They shared a moment of silent communication, of understanding, of love so profound it had transcended even the depths of a coma.
She climbed onto the bed with him, careful not to disturb the medical attachments, and kissed him deeply, their tears mixing as their lips met. “You came back to me,” she sobbed, holding him as tightly as she dared.
The next morning brought astonishment to the hospital staff. James was alert, more responsive than he had been in months. The doctors couldn’t explain the sudden change, but Elizabeth knew. She knew it was their connection, their love expressed in the most intimate of ways, that had woken him from his silent world.
Over the following weeks, James’s recovery was steady. Each day brought back more of him, his voice growing stronger, his movements more certain. Elizabeth stayed by his side, their nights now filled with whispered conversations, gentle laughter, and the promise of a future they had both feared was lost.
Their story was one of love’s resilience, of how it could find a way even through the darkest of times. It was a tale of intimacy not just as physical but as a profound, healing force. And as they planned their life anew, they knew that whatever lay ahead, they would face it together, their bond now unbreakable, forged in the quiet, desperate love of a single, miraculous night.
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By HanSolo
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