Therapy After Surgery It was
wonderful to have my wife home for the first time since her hysterectomy. The operation had gone
well and she was recovering fine. Still, her mother and sisters fawn over her in such a way that
she feels more comfortable staying at her mother's house while recovering than at our home.
Besides, apparently a hysterectomy invokes deep feminine magic requiring only those bodies that
have been purified by estrogen to assist in the healing process. At least, that the way it feels to
me sometimes. That's stating the case a bit too harshly I know, but it's been a long week and a
half and I've missed her terribly. It's good to see her in our home again, to touch her and hold
her more intimately than it's been possible to do either in the hospital or at her mother's. "You
look great, honey! I can't believe you're walking around so well already." "That's only because of
the pain pills, believe me. When I tried to give off of them a couple of nights ago, I hurt like
hell the next morning." "Here, let me get that for you. Why don't you sit down and save your
strength?" "I'm OK, Greg. Just let me do what I can while I have a little energy. I can't tell you
how good it feels to be in my own home again, surrounded by my own things. I just want to touch
everything once while I'm here." "Why don't you just stay? Don't go back! I'll take off for the
next couple of days and take care of you and..." "You already took off for the surgery and while I
was in the hospital. You need to work. And you have to take care of our son, driving him every damn
place in the world with his busy schedule. You don't have time to take care of me too. You know
we've discussed this." "I know. I didn't mean to upset you, really! I know you have to stay over
there. That doesn't mean I won't miss you so much though. I miss not having my wife at home!" "I
know, baby! It's OK. Just hold me for a while." Later, when she was tired, I put her on our bed for
a nap. She took her clothes off and let me hold her naked body reverently. Her pale skin was
radiant against the deep violet sheets with the black flowers. They were her favorite sheets. I
didn't dare remove my clothes because even after ten days of self-abuse, I still had a raging
hard-on just looking at her. But I couldn't not touch her. My hands wandered familiar,
well-explored territories that I have come to love so much: the undersides of her heavy breasts,
her forehead, her temples, her elbows and the prominent cocoa colored birthmark on her side. I gave
her birthmark a sweet little kiss and called her "my little colored girl." That made her giggled
for the first time, just as I had hoped. "Now let me rest a minute, dear. I'm so tired all of the
sudden." "Of course, honey. Just rest. As long as you like." As I made to rise from the bed, she
stopped me with her hand on my arm. "Greg, before you go, just touch me there, please?" "Are you
sure it's OK? Can I?" "Of course. Just be gentle." As tenderly as I can, I lightly lay my hand on
my wife's incision. It's a fierce, ragged wound that runs all the way across the lower portion of
her belly, just on top of the Cesarean scar where our son was taken from her womb twelve years ago.
I had expected this one to look the same, but it was longer and was a more violent attack against
her body than I had expected. Even so, it was a part of her now. With my hand on her belly, I made
my peace with her wound. It would be inseparable from the woman I love. I hadn't come to love it
yet, like I did every other part of her, but it wasn't the enemy anymore. To her credit, my wife
indulged me for as long as I needed. Then she corrected my misunderstanding. "Not there, silly.
Touch me lower. Please, I need to feel your fingers touch me." Oh, so that was what she meant. With
a small laugh at my own foolishness, I lowered my touch to lightly brush my wife's precious vulva.
It was the most sacred place in the world to me, the place of all my deepest desires and richest
fantasies. It was also a familiar friend and I had missed it so much the last ten days. This was no
backseat grope, though. She sighed, but it was not the sigh of the aroused. It was the sigh of a
woman who thought never to be touched again for the rest of her life. For a moment, I almost
thought that she honestly believed that I wouldn't love her once her ovaries were removed. "That's
enough. It feels nice though. Do I still feel like a woman, Greg?" she asked softly. "Of course,
you do Marjorie! You're still the most beautiful, sexiest woman in the world to me." "I still feel
like a woman to me, too. I was surprised. I thought I'd feel like a man after the surgery," she
whispered, as though making some secret confession. "Don't you think I knew that that was what you
were thinking. You're still my wife, Marjorie. I'm going to love you forever, much less after
something like this." She had tears in her eyes.

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 Maybe I had reassured her for at least the next
five minutes. After that, she'd probably need me to tell her the same thing again. "OK. You've done
your job. Now let me rest for a little, will you." I wandered out the door, leaving it cracked just
a bit in case she needs me. I piddle around, cleaning anything up that won't make noise. I call
over to our son's best friend's house just to make sure everything was OK. I told him that his
mother was sleeping, so why didn't he stay for at least another couple of hours. There'd be plenty
of time for him to spend with her before she has to go. Later, when she calls me into the room, she
is apparently more rested. I immediately catch the mischievous look in her eye. I get a little hard
every time I see that look. "Come here, Daddy. Get under the covers and tell your little girl a
story." "Marjorie, are you sure? It's so soon." "Maybe it was that estrogen shot they gave me, but
I've been horny for days now. Please, do it! Just be gentle." "OK, but tell me the moment it feels
uncomfortable, please." "I will. You know how much I hate pain. If I bite your ear off, it hurts
too much." I knew she was joking. Still, my ears had smarted more than once. "Where do you want to
go today, little girl?" I asked her in my best "Daddy" voice. My hand reached down and gently
touched her vagina, slowly starting to play lightly along the tender lips. Really, this was not so
very different when I thought of it. In her stories, Marjorie was always such a little girl that I
had to treat her gently. "I want to go to the pool, Daddy." "We can go to the pool sweetheart, but
you'll have to wear the new suit I bought you last week. You know the one." "The one that's too
small in the bottom? Oh Daddy, my cheeks keep popping out of that one." "That's why Daddy bought
it, baby girl. But don't worry, Daddy will always be right beside you to pull it down whenever it
rides up on your precious bottom." "Those ladies over there that are watching us think that you
pull down my bathing suit way too much, Daddy." "What do they know? They probably never had a good
Daddy like yours that would pull their bottoms down every time it was needed." When Marjorie didn't
respond except to groan, I knew that she was beginning to get into the feel of the story. Her head
was back. Her eyes were closed, but I could see the rapid eye movement under the lids.
Surprisingly, I felt a little moisture in her vagina, so I continued to stroke and encourage it.
"See those women over there, though. The ones with the sunglasses. They're looking at us too, even
though you can't see their eyes. They're the ones that had good Daddies and they're remembering
what it felt like when their Daddy touched them too." That drew a moan. That was always one of
Marjorie's favorites. I spoke a little longer, elaborating on what the grown women were remembering
and how I was going to do the same things to my little girl just as soon as we got home from the
pool. I could tell Marj was getting even more excited. It worried me, with her incision. It
inspired me, with my denial-based arousal. "Somewhere different. You decide!" she asked in a
strained, raspy voice. I had to think quick. "Let's go to the zoo. Do you want to visit the animals
today? The elephants? The horses?" Marjorie just shook her head, frustrated. I had to pull an old
favorite out of the hat, and quickly. "Let's just let you climb this little fence and stand in
front of Daddy watching the animals then. I love you're little dress today, sweetheart. Daddy's
girl looks so pretty in her new dress." This brought the moan that I was searching so frantically
for. Now I could relax and get into it with her again. "I hope you didn't wear any panties, like I
told you. If you did Daddy might have to take them off you and whip your little hiney right here in
front of everyone." She was getting much closer. Even though my little girl's spankings are tender
things, I didn't really feel up to it right now. I wanted to be sweet to my wife today. "See, when
your climbing the fence in front of me like that I can reach underneath your dress and touch you.
Nobody even knows it, even though there are hundreds of people all around us. Nobody can even see
your Daddy touching you sweetheart. It's our nasty little secret." And that was enough for Marj.
Thankfully it wasn't a violent cum. I had hoped that her body would prevent her from doing that. I
had been prepared to stop it, even at the risk of loosing an ear. But after she came, she relaxed
more than I had ever seen before. It was obviously a release that she needed. Knowing my wife, she
was probably worried the whole time that she would never be able to cum again after the surgery.
She's a worrier, but I still love her. "You're a good man, Greg. And a good Daddy. When I come home
to stay, we'll have to visit the zoo more often." 

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