There was nothing he could do. He would put her on chemo for awhile but the outlook was very grave. At most he gave her six months to live. I just bro...e down and bawled. I took her in my arms and she was the strong one. She said everything would be all right. How can everything be alright when my wife is dying? When we got home she called Helen. She came right over and they cried together. I wanted to do everything I could for my wife in her last months. Always too late, would-a, could-a,. The next morning we got up, both knowing we had to eventually take off and she moved her hands to rub my cock and balls. She clearly wanted to fuck again. She mentioned that she usually used condoms and was surprised when we didn't use one last night, and said the drinking made her not care. I asked her how she felt about taking me bare again and feel my pulsing in her once again. She let out a slight laugh, not sure what to say. I asked her what if my millions of sperm got her pregnant? She. “Yes, the same address and telephone number,” I told her.“The doctor will be able to see you on Tuesday of next week at ten o’clock in the morning. Is that acceptable?” she asked.“Yes, that’s fine. Is there anything that I should bring?” I asked.“We will be mailing you some paperwork to fill out before arriving here. Be sure to bring it with you,” I was told, before she added, “We’ll see you Tuesday of next week at ten, then.” The line went dead as we hung up.The attack started a half-hour. She put her ass right in his face, within inches, teasing him. I know he could smell her. I watched him trying to free himself from his bonds. He desperately wanted to get his face in her, or his cock. And then she was squatting over his hard on, brushing it with her pussy lips, leaving her scent on him. Marking him as hers. Poor John was whimpering now. I can only imagine what torture that was. And Brenda was so enjoying it.Then she turned, and leaned over and kissed John all over his.