Dying to Fuck Your Wife

"I still think this sounds depressing."

Claire grimaced. "There's a spot," she said, watching the reverse lights of a car come on as it started to back out. Tom stopped the car waiting for the space to vacate. "We'll just pay our respects to Calvin and catch up with some of our friends."

Calvin Custis was dying.

Calvin transferred to Claire and Tom's high school senior year, one of just a few black people in their school. He was well-liked but had trouble getting dates largely because none of the senior girls wanted to break the racial barrier and partly because at 5'4", he was shorter than most of his female classmates. Despite, his short stature, Calvin was a weightlifter and an amazing athlete at everything even basketball. Tom and Calvin were rivals on the field, friendly, but not close. Tom was the team quarterback, but Calvin ended up beating him out for Captain of the baseball team. Calvin had also asked Claire out multiple times despite the fact she was dating Tom and she towered over the short black man by a good half foot. Calvin had been more persistent when she and Tom officially broke up after graduation when Tom left for college, but Claire had politely declined, went on a couple of dates with several classmates for a month before she and Tom got back together when he called her crying about what a mistake he'd made breaking up with her. They married three years later when he graduated from college.

High school had been fourteen years ago. They'd stayed local, close to family. Tom got a job in real estate; Claire opened an arts and crafts store that she'd recently had to close. Calvin managed a bar and restaurant on Main street for the last ten years. They bumped into him once in a while or had dinner at his restaurant around once a year, always exchanging polite greetings and catching up. Calvin never married, was engaged once, but it fell through. He continued working out until he was as big as Dwayne Johnson compressed down into Kevin Hart's size. Nobody teased him about his height when they saw his biceps.

They'd heard rumors Calvin was sick. The big C. Ironic, as Calvin was called the Big C by his friends. Tom and Claire had seen him just nine months earlier and he looked fine, so they were shocked to hear Calvin was so sick. Calvin was officially retiring at thirty-two and his coworkers had decided to throw him a retirement party, but it was in reality a celebration of his life. Tom found it morbid, but Claire thought it was a great idea.

They walked the block down Main street to The Home Plate: Grill & Sport's Bar. They were early. Calvin was seated in an armchair, receiving well-wishers like a king receiving supplicants. "He looks good," whispered Tom to his wife.

"Looks the same except for the hair," Claire whispered back. Nine months ago, he'd had a healthy flattop and sideburns now he was bald.

A spot opened up and Tom approached the chair. "Hey Calvin," he said, his eyes flickering down. From the waist up, Calvin was still a broad-shouldered muscleman, but his legs were no longer muscular, they looked weak and scrawny. His hand was resting on a cane.

"Tommy Thompson!" said Calvin, smiling and greeting him with a strong handshake. "And Claire Casey."

Claire forced down a gasp when she saw the condition his legs were in. She took her eyes off his legs and caught Calvin's eyes on her breasts. Tom didn't blame him. Claire had dressed to show off for her fellow cheerleaders. She was wearing a blue twist tie, cropped tee from Victoria's Secret that showed off her flat tummy and an impressive amount of cleavage. Her breasts had been large in high school and many a guy called Claire Casey, Double C. Her old nickname no longer held true, however, as the only visible places Claire had gained weight was in her breasts and they were now a full DD. White short shorts with a black belt and sandals completed her outfit. "Hey Calvin," said Claire, leaning down and showing him even more cleavage as she kissed him on the cheek. She didn't mind the attention; the chestnut-haired beauty was used to it. She had bright green eyes, full lips, and high cheekbones. She'd been the most popular girl in school and nearly every boy had dreamed of getting her in bed. She was the hottest woman in the bar at that moment, probably the town, the county, and maybe even the state.

"You look great as always Claire," said Calvin, openly sweeping his eyes down her body. "Tom, thanks for dressing up."

"Yep," said Tom, in a worn tee shirt and jeans. He wore a suit and tie every day selling houses and refused to dress up when he was off work. He wasn't aging as well as Claire, his tee shirt hugged a growing belly and his sandy brown hair was receding with a small growing bald spot on his head.

"You look good," said Claire, though her eyes were sad.

"Liar," said Calvin, laughing. He was in good spirits.

"No, I mean it," she said. "You look good bald. It makes you look..."

"Virile," he said with a smile, making Tom snort. "Like a large black penis." This made Tom snort again and Claire laughed. "Speaking of penises, how come Tom hasn't knocked you up yet?"

Claire blushed. "Well, we are officially trying." She held crossed fingers up.

"We put starting a family on hold to get our careers going and travel some, but now that Claire's shut down her boutique..."

"And Tom's making good money," she added. "We're finally ready."

"Well, if it's a boy, name him Calvin," said Calvin.

"Uh... we'll think about it," said Claire, glancing at her husband. There was no way she was going to name her boy after Calvin. Of course, Calvin was pulling their legs, but when a dying man made a request of you, you got uncomfortable.

"How are the legs?" asked Tom.

"Weak," said Calvin, his smile dropping. "And growing weaker. The pain is constant, but you know..." He shrugged. "It is what it is." Calvin sat back.

They exchanged small talk for a few moments. Calvin invested in some land when younger and just sold it for a small fortune. Tom was a little peeved that Calvin hadn't gone through him to broker the sale. There was a line forming up behind them to greet Calvin, so the Thompsons moved on. "You should try the bald look," said Claire to her husband. "It does make him look virile."

"At some point, I'll give up and shave it all off," said Tom, "But until then, I'm fighting it all the way." He waved at some old classmates.

"CLAIRE!"

"TOM!"

The Thompsons greeted some of their high school friends. There were handshakes, hugs, beers brought, and shots thrown back. Despite the nature of the gathering, the next two hours were a lot of fun and felt more like an impromptu high school reunion than a celebration of life.

"Oh, it looks like Calvin's leaving," said Claire to her husband. Someone was helping Calvin to his feet. His legs looked shaky and he was wincing, sweat beading on his bald head.

"Let's go say bye," said Tom, pushing himself up off the table. "This is..."

"Yeah," said Claire, frowning. This was probably the last time either of them would see Calvin until his funeral.

Friends were lining up to get a picture with the little black man despite that it was visibly paining him to keep standing. "You good for one more?" asked Tom.

"Sure," said Calvin, grinning, but wincing. "But just me and Claire." He was half kidding. They took a picture with Calvin between them and then he did want one of just him and Claire. The short black man leaned into her, his head the same height and roughly the same size as each of her breasts. He closed his eyes, smiling like he'd fallen asleep on a pillow and their watching friends laughed.

"Well Calvin, hang in there," said Tom. "Be strong. If there's anything we can do for you, don't hesitate to give us a call."

"Well, since you asked," said Calvin.

Tom paused. "What do you need?"

"I need your wife," said Calvin, staring him in the eye and wiggling his eyebrows.

"You what?" asked Tom.

"Seriously," said Calvin. "I want your wife to be my helper."

"What do you mean?" asked Claire.

"I need a helper. You know, someone to drive me to the doctor, make me lunch. Do some minor cleaning. You know."

"You're serious?" asked Claire.

"Why not?" asked Calvin. "It hit me when you guys mentioned you were trying to have a baby. Claire closed up her shop and isn't doing anything. I don't have anyone to help me since my parents died and I'm always begging people for help. I need a ride to chemo Monday. I'd pay you of course."

Claire shrugged, looking up in thought. "I'm not sure. I mean, I could certainly take you to the doctor Monday, but I couldn't take any money for it."

"I insist. Look, could you at least give it a try? I can pay you $1000 per week."

"A thousand!" she exclaimed. "That's too much." Her failing business had been struggling to take in a thousand dollars a month.

"I can afford it just fine, but it is at least a forty-hour week. Maybe more as I sometimes need help on Saturdays."

"I do usually end up showing houses Saturday," said Tom, glancing at his wife. "But we like to spend Sunday together."

"I'll guarantee you Sunday off," said Calvin, looking hopeful. "I have a neighbor I can call Sunday if I need anything."

"I don't know," said Claire thinking about it.

"I know it's a lot to ask," he pleaded. "I need you and you can put the money towards little Calvin's college fund." Claire rolled her eyes. She was wavering. Calvin added, "In a more serious note, the doctors don't expect I'll last much longer than another six months. It wouldn't be for that long."

"I guess I could give it a try," said Claire, looking at Tom, pleading with her eyes, hoping he had a good excuse for her to get out of it." He just shrugged.

"Great," said Calvin. "I'll need a ride to the hospital Monday morning and I have a short shopping list of things I need. Can you be at my house by 9:00 am?"

"Sure," said Claire.

"Let me have your number and I'll text you my address."

They exchanged numbers. Tom held his hand out and shook Calvin's, wincing slightly at the little black man's strong grip. Claire hugged him goodbye, bending down far enough that the little black man's head wouldn't be buried in her chest. Calvin's friend ushered him out. The Thompsons left, walking down Main street towards Tom's car. Tom backed out of his spot and aimed the car home.

"For a second, I thought he was asking for you know what," said Claire, nervously

"Yeah," said Tom with a snort. "You know Calvin, he's always joking around." Tom stared out the windshield, his mind wandering.

**********

Tom unwrapped the towel from his waist and tossed it on the bench before entering the shower, followed by a few other classmates. The new kid, the little black guy was already in the shower, facing the wall. He couldn't help being impressed by the V-shape of the black guy's back as a trim waist broadened outward into broad muscular shoulders. He probably had little man's complex and bulked up to make bullies think twice before teasing him for being short.

Tom stepped under the closest shower and began lathering up his own fit body. He bent his head back under the water, adding shampoo and washing his hair. One of his friends said something he couldn't quite hear under the water. Tom moved his head out. "What was that?"

"I said, Jesus, not everything on the new kid is little."

Tom turned his head. Calvin was exiting the shower. Two other guys were entering, looking down on Calvin with looks of shock on their faces. Tom shrugged, finished rinsing and left the shower. As he stepped out, Calvin was still there drying off. He was toweling off his crotch, lifting the towel away just as Tom glanced down. Tom froze staring in horror at the behemoth penis sticking out between Calvin's legs. He felt his penis shrink into his testicles as he stared at the dark black monstrosity. Calvin's penis was mostly hard and sticking straight out from his crotch. Even not completely hard, the thing was longer than a football, at least a foot long and as thick as an energy drink can. Calvin's eyes flickered down to Tom's shrunken genitals, then back up, grinning at him as Tom stared in horror at the huge black horse dick sticking out from the short man's legs.

Tom recovered, but the image was burned in his brain. Erect, his penis was only around five and a half inches long. It looked a little smaller than the other guys in the shower, but soft there wasn't much of a noticeable difference and nobody teased him about it.

Showering after gym class or games made Tom feel emasculated after that. Calvin's cock was always either sticking straight out, slightly bent down or swinging back and forth between his thighs like a giant rotten black banana. The little black man freed his cock the second they were in the locker room and never covered it up until it was time for the next class. Tom began taking quick showers or lagging behind to let Calvin finish and leave. Almost as bad as being emasculated by his huge black cock, Calvin almost immediately became the most popular guy in school, assuming the alpha male role over Tom. They went where Calvin wanted to go, did what Calvin wanted to do.

**********

That thing would rip Claire apart, thought Tom, the color slightly drained from his cheeks. Twelve years later, he was half convinced his memory had just inflated the size of Calvin's cock. It couldn't have been that big. It couldn't have.

"You okay there?" asked Claire. "Pay attention to the road."

"Sorry," he apologized. Tom snorted. "This isn't nice, but I was just thinking that if he was chasing after you, he'd never be able to catch you."

"Oh, that's horrible," said Claire, wincing at the joke, but shamefully finding it funny. She glanced out her window, her mind drifting off to her own memories of Calvin.

**********

Claire was drunk, but in her defense so was everyone else. Summer was nearly over and this would be the final official high school party of their lives. Tom had just left for college, but first, he'd dumped her. Asshole probably wanted to be free to fool around with college girls. She was going to take some classes at a local community college and staying with her parents for a few more years.

"Drink," ordered Liz, sinking a quarter in the shot glass. "New rule and that's no more rules."

"Thank god," said Sam, one of Tom's best friends, swaying on his feet. The rules had gotten totally out of hand. Claire had gone on one date with Sam, but she was still upset over Tom, and Sam had been a little grabby with her tits while kissing her goodnight. He was still interested, but she wasn't sure she wanted a second date. Plus, she was pretty sure, he and Liz liked to fuck around occasionally.

"Instead of rules," said Liz with a dramatic pause, looking at each player. "You can make any two people go in the closet for "Seven minutes in heaven."

"What are we, thirteen?" complained Claire.

"Fine, you'll be first when I sink another three," said Liz. Her quarter bounced, plopping right into the glass. "Drink," she ordered. Liz was amazingly good at this game no matter how drunk she was. She easily sank two more ordering Claire to drink two more gulps of beer. "Alright Claire and..." She looked around the room, catching Sam's eye. He nodded eagerly. The other male players also nodded or pointed their thumbs to their chests. Liz looked past them. "Calvin." Liz tossed her head back and laughed.

"NO!" said Claire. Liz had done a good job picking out the least likely person she'd want to make out with.

"Did I hear my name?" asked Calvin, coming over to the table. He took a sip of his beer.

"Yes," said Liz, wagging her finger at him. "You and Claire have to go in the closet for seven minutes."

"Seriously?" He glanced at Claire who was shaking her head, negatively.

"Not fair, he's not even playing," she complained.

"YES!" Liz was swaying on her feet. "I made a rule. Any two people. ANY! The Double C and The Big C in the closet for seven minutes. That's three Cs, right Calvin?"

"Si," he replied, grinning.

"NO!" said Claire, shaking her head.

"Rules are rules, Claire," said Calvin taking her hand.

Liz threw back her head and laughed while another cheerleader held the door to the closet open. Calvin pulled Claire inside. She had to duck under the coat rack, sitting on a trash bag of clothing in the corner. The door closed and they were in darkness.

"I'm not doing anything with you," said Claire.

Calvin was silent for a moment. "We have to kiss at least."

"The rules don't say we have to do anything. We'll just sit here for the seven minutes." Claire jumped when she felt his hands on her shoulders.

Calvin massaged her shoulder. She was tense but began to relax. "We'll just kiss. I know better, but they'll think you're a racist if we don't at least kiss."

His hands felt good on her shoulders and she began to loosen up. Truthfully, the fact that he was black was the main reason she was reluctant and that he was half a foot shorter than she was. She thought of Tom and how he'd loathe it if she made out with his rival. That made her reconsider. "Alright. You can kiss me," but that's all."

Calvin pulled her forward. Seated, her head was slightly lower than Calvin's. Their noses touched and she turned her head sideways as his lips pressed hers. They made out for a minute before Calvin's tongue began pushing between her lips. She pushed back, her tongue slipping into his mouth. She moved her hands to his shoulders but slid them down his arms, his biceps felt so big and hard. Calvin's hands slid down her sides. In the dark, it was so easy to forget he was a little black man. His hands were on her waist, moving under her shirt and touching her bare flesh. The hands moved over to cup her breasts over her bra, kneading them. Claire went to push him away, her hands pushing on his chest, but encountering the hard brick wall of his pectorals. Instead of pushing, she let her hands run across his muscular chest and before she knew it, his hands were under her bra, tweaking her nipples which were soon rock hard and sending spasms of desire down to her crotch. He kept playing with her right nipple while his other hand grabbed her wrist and moved it down to his knee, releasing it. Her hand squeezed his knee, he moved his leg and she found herself frowning as her hand slid over a hard knob, larger than a golf ball attached to a thick shaft. She squeezed it wondering what the hell she was touching? Her hand started to explore what felt like an impossibly huge...

"TIMES UP!" yelled a classmate opening the door. "WHOA!"

Claire opened her eyes, pulling back as Calvin jerked his hands out from under her shirt. She felt flushed and was breathing heavily. Calvin turned and walked out of the closet, giving some teammates a thumbs up.

"Yeah! Big C!" shouted some, applauding, most jealously.

Claire flushed some more and followed him. Liz was collapsed on a couch, half passed out and the quarters game was over, though the gathering around the table had grown. They were the only two that had to go in the closet that night. Calvin approached her, a cocky grin across his face, asking if she needed a ride home. She had a ride and declined. He called her the next day, but she didn't answer. He texted her the following day, asking if she wanted to get out that night, but she didn't respond to that either. He was a good kisser, but there was no way she would ever date a black man and a short one at that. A week later, Tom had called, apologizing for being a fool, and wanting to get back together. She agreed to talk and drove five hours to his college the next weekend. The next time she saw Calvin he was bussing tables at a restaurant downtown when Tom had come home for Thanksgiving.