I loved it when my wife would give me her best come hither
look, asking me to join her in bed.

“Give me a minute, I just want to check the doors.”

“Hurry up, I’m getting lonely.” she purred.

I didn’t need much more encouragement than that. I think I
set a land speed record going downstairs to make sure the
doors were locked before sprinting back upstairs three at a
time to join my wife in bed.

I got to the bedroom door and had to stop when I looked at
her. She was still beautiful after over ten years of
marriage and three kids. Sure she had gained a little weight
in the past decade; having children tends to do that. But
that didn’t take away from how she still looked. If
anything, I thought she was even more sexy now than when we
were first married. I couldn’t identify what it was, maybe
she looked more womanly, more curvy. Whatever the reason, I
knew I still got as turned on by her as I ever had. And
seeing her in her silk maroon negligee, with her breasts
pressing their fullness against the diaphanous material,
made me lust for her as much as I had on the day we met.

To add to her still sexy charms, this woman, sprawled out
seductively across our king size bed, was just about the
best wife and mother any family could hope for. Ignoring any
of her physical assets, I could easily, and incredibly
happily, spend the rest of my life with her based on her
warmth, kindness, and caring. Not to mention that with her
wit and intelligence, she always managed to keep me on my
toes and very much in line.

“Doors are locked, kids are asleep, and you’re all mine.”
Yes, it was a dumb thing to say. I never could think
straight when I was horny.

“Get to bed,” she mocked a stern countenance. “Hurry up and
we can see the ball drop, it’s quarter of twelve.”

“That’s nothing. Once I get my jockeys off, you’ll get to
see two balls drop.”

She scrunched her nose up in the disapproving way she
sometimes does when I make some of my stupid little jokes.

I finished getting undressed and lay down next to my wife,
feeling the silky smoothness of her body against mine. We
kissed passionately and I began fondling her ample breasts.
I nuzzled at her neck and lost myself in her silky blond
hair. Cupping her breasts, my fingers found her nipples,
already stiff from anticipation, and pulled on them roughly,
in the way I knew she liked. I pulled the negligee’s thin
strap down, freeing that breast, and clamped my lips to the
stiff peak. Karen sighed at the feelings my tongue was
giving her nipple and she hiked the material up to her waist
to give me better access to her pussy. As I inserted my
middle finger into her moist slit, she thrust her hips up
wantonly to meet my fingers.

With her free hand, she firmly grabbed my cock and stroked
it to match the rhythm of my finger fuck. I added a second
finger and increased my speed and she began to shudder with
her first orgasm of the evening.

“Oh, baby,” she whispered. “Get up here and give it to me
now.”

I maneuvered myself between her legs and rubbed myself
against her moist vulva before lowering myself into her. She
grunted as I bottomed out and when she started licking my
neck I thought that my orgasm was near as well. Fortunately
for me, the annoying drone of the New Year’s Eve Times
Square broadcast helped me focus my concentration so I could
last more than a few minutes.

We established a nice rhythm with Karen lifting herself
upward to meet my thrusts followed by me withdrawing almost
all the way, only to bottom out again. I alternated sucking
and nibbling each of her taut nipples as we continued our
metered fuck. When I brought my right hand down to Karen’s
clit, she began to convulse in orgasm almost immediately.

I continued plundering my wife’s pussy as the announcer on
the TV was counting down. 10…9…8…I withdrew almost all
the way …7…6… I drove myself all the way back in
…5…4… Karen started panting and was coming for the
third time this evening …3…2… I could feel myself
getting nearer to my own release, as well …1… Happy new
year!

I continued to pound myself into her as she was coming down
from her orgasm.

She looked up at me and smiled. “Happy new year.”

“Happy new year, hon.” I kissed her tenderly.

“Actually, happy new century and millennium,” her eyes
sparkled as she smiled at me.

“Well, actually, it isn’t really the new century or
millennium — that’s going to be next year. The year 2001 is
actually the…”

“John, just shut up and fuck me.”

Who was I to argue.

I stopped my ramblings about the actual turn of the
millennium when I noticed that I was losing my erection. I
tried to speed things up to get it back, but that was to no
avail. I was in the middle of fucking my sexy and incredibly
turned on wife and I was losing wood. How the fuck did
something like that happen? I had thought that my little
speech about the year 2001 had made me lose my focus, but
now I was fully concentrating on any lustful and dirty
thought that popped into my mind and I was losing the
battle. For the fist time in the history of man the big head
was winning the battle with the little head — and at the
most inopportune time, too.

“Honey, is something wrong?” Karen looked into my eyes with
a concerned glance.

“I don’t know…I just…” I was really at a loss for words.

“Well, did you come?” she asked hesitantly.

“No”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes I’m *sure*,” I snapped. “I’d know it if I came. There’s
would be a puddle of semen somewhere right about at the
junction of our genitals. Not to mention the intense feeling
that accompanies the whole process. I’d *know* if I came. I
think I just…I just lost my erection.” I rolled off of her
and sighed deeply.

“Let me do something about that,” she looked up seductively
as she rolled over and grabbed my now flaccid penis and ran
her tongue around the glans. She enveloped it all with her
mouth and began to suck from the base with the tip just the
way she knew I liked it. Usually this sort of thing would
have had me erect within seconds, but today there was
nothing; not a twitch, not a movement — nothing. After
about five minutes of no response, I tapped her shoulders to
come up to lay with me.

Karen scooted up and brushed her hand against my cheek.
“It’s ok honey. That happens to everyone at one point or
another.”

“Well, I doesn’t happen to me. At least it didn’t, or never
had.” I shook my head in self-disgust. “But this is nuts.
This isn’t supposed to happen in the middle of sex. Guys
don’t lose their erections while they’re fucking. If some
temporary impotence sets in, it happens before they even get
hard — not in the middle.

“It’s probably nothing honey. Let’s not worry about it.”
Then she looked at me coyly. “There’s still something you
can do for me, if you’re up…er, if you want to.”

Figuring that there wasn’t much I could do about my
situation, I concentrated solely on Karen’s pleasure. I slid
my body down hers and licked my way from her breasts to her
vulva. I first placed one, then two fingers within her
vagina and began a slow finger fuck while I licked and
sucked on her engorged lips. As she started rolling her hips
I took the cue and teased her by licking all around her clit
without making contact. After tormenting her for a couple of
minutes, she started thrusting her pussy up into my face,
trying to get me to make some — any — contact with her
clit. Seeing that she was needing release, I concentrated my
attentions on her sensitive hooded pearl and fairly attacked
it with my tongue. In less than a minute she was squeezing
my head with her thighs and screaming out her orgasm.

And throughout all of that, I had no reaction whatsoever
from my penis. Usually, eating pussy was enough to give me a
raging hard on, but tonight, it just sat there like a wet
noodle. I didn’t want to let on to Karen how concerned I
was, but I think she read it in my eyes.

We just held each other, silently, for the longest time
afterward. We both were afraid to say anything to each
other. I know I really didn’t know what to say about the
situation. I was really embarrassed about it, and was just
hoping that it was a one-time event. As wonderful and caring
as my wife was, I still felt a little awkward facing her
after this.

With these thoughts and worries I managed to fall asleep,
insecure with the knowledge that I’d greeted the new
millennium impotent.

Several days passed and nothing had happened. There was no
sign of life at all in my penis. No twitch when my wife
would walk up behind my chair in my office and kiss me hotly
on the back of my neck. No rush of blood to my shaft when
she’d stroke me under the covers at night or snuggle her
back to me in the ‘spoon’ position. Even my morning
erection, ever the faithful companion since I was about ten
years old, had deserted me. It was gone like a puppy that
had run away from home — and I was the poor child who sat
by the window day after day hoping, praying, that he’d come
back to me.

It’s funny, but I think I missed my morning erection the
most. It was the ever-present faithful companion that would
say, “Wake up John. You have a happy and fully functioning
pecker, now get out of bed, take a big piss, and greet the
day.” Now what did it say, “Think of it this way, your
appendix and tonsils have company now.” All I wanted to do
was roll over and go back to sleep. Wake me when they back
the hearse up to the house.

“Babe, it’s been five days. I think you should call the
doctor.” Karen suggested one morning sympathetically as I
was getting ready for work.

“Maybe it’ll get better,” I hated going to the doctor, and
I’d do anything I could do to forestall a visit.

“John, it’s *not* getting better. There’s been nothing for
five days. I’m getting worried.” Then she smirked, “besides,
if you don’t go to the doctor, I’m going to have to join the
battery-a-month club.”

“Ok. Ok. Call up the office and make an appointment for
me…God this is so embarrassing. I feel like Bob Dole.” I
knew in my heart of hearts that I needed to go; I was truly
getting unnerved that nothing had happened over the past
five days. Thirty four was way too young for Viagra.

————

The doctor prodded, poked, had blood drawn, had me pee in a
cup and topped the whole pleasant experience off by shoving
his finger up my ass. The least he could have done was buy
me a couple of drinks first.

But the utter embarrassment of his examination was actually
eclipsed by the questions that he asked me afterward.

— How often do you masturbate?

— Rarely…well maybe a couple of times a week. Ok,
sometimes more than that.

— Do you have any vacuum tube devices that you use on your
penis?

— I don’t even know what those are.

I felt like saying, “That’s not my bag, baby,” in a smarmy
fake British accent but figured the doctor’s office wasn’t
the place for Austin Powers humor.

— Are you a heavy drinker or drug user?

— I don’t take drugs. I drink a little, maybe a glass of
wine or two with dinner occasionally. Oh, yeah, I drink a
fifth of bourbon before I get dressed in the morning, just
to get the blood flowing — just kidding.

He looked at me with derision. Some people just have no
sense of humor — either that or that’s how he started his
days and I struck a raw nerve.

— How often do you have sex?

— Maybe once or twice a week. More if we can get a
babysitter.

That’s not to imply that I was having sex with the
babysitter.

— Do you only have sex with your wife or do you have
multiple partners?

— No, I’m as monogamous as you can get.

— Do you only have vaginal sex or do you have sex orally and
anally as well?

— Mostly vaginal and oral, but once in a while we have
anal.

When were these questions going to end? This was mortifying.

— Do you ever stick anything up your urethra?

— *What*?!?

What the hell kind of a question was that? Was this guy
serious? I felt like saying, “have you?”

— Do you ever stick anything up the urethra?

— No, doc. That’s an exit, not an entrance.

— Have you ever had unprotected sex with a high risk
person?

— No, I haven’t had sex with anyone but my wife for the
past 13 years.

The questions were almost as embarrassing as my reason for
being at the doctor.

“Well, John. I see nothing wrong with any of your tests at
all. I can’t figure it out. You’re in great shape. Good
sugar levels, blood pressure is perfect. I don’t get it.”

It was always refreshing to hear your doctor say he didn’t
know what was wrong you. I made a mental note to check his
diploma on the way out. With my luck, this guy was a proud
graduate of the University of Margaritaville somewhere in
the Abacos Islands.

“Do you have any guesses?” I was fishing for anything.

“Well, let me get your records. Maybe there’s something in
there that will help.” He opened the door to the exam room
and addressed his nurse, “Amy, can you get Mr. Adams’s
records from the file room please. Thanks.”

Then he turned back to me and gave me an apologetic look.

“This is going to take a while. Amy has to go downstairs to
our record room. We had all of our medical records on
computer, but it turns out that the computers weren’t Y2K
compliant. $13,000 for an entire office system and we can’t
even get it up.”

The nurse returned with my records, and the doctor looked
them over with a furrowed brow. I was not encouraged.

“John, I can’t find anything in your history that would
indicate to me what the problem is. I’m going to refer you
to a urologist for a complete workup. If he comes up with
nothing, then I suppose it could be psychological. It’s not
uncommon for men your age. High pressure jobs. Lots of
stress. Burning the candle at both ends… The urologist I’m
referring you to is one of the best there is in the nation,
if he can’t find the problem, then it can’t be found.”

As I got dressed, I wasn’t sure if I was encouraged or
scared shitless by his last statement.

I left the office and headed home, blowing off the rest of
the day of work. I wasn’t in the mood to go to the office
and be nice to all of those guys with their functioning
penises. Besides, the world wasn’t going to stop spinning if
another stripmall or planned community was a day late in
being designed.

I called my wife from my car as I worked my way through
midday traffic. While I listened to the phone ringing I
thought that if only my problem were as easy to diagnose as
my doctor’s computer system I’d be a much happier person.
That’s it, I laughed, he can’t get his computers up — just
like me. Maybe I wasn’t Y2K compliant either, I chuckled to
myself. If it only could be that simple.

“Hello.”

“Hi, hon. How’re you doing?” I asked, really not sure how to
broach the subject of the test results.

“Never mind about me. What did the doctor say?”

“He said I should buy you lots of batteries,” I tried to
ease the tension. “Actually, he couldn’t find anything
wrong. He’s setting me up with a world class urologist at
Mass. General. He said if he can’t find the problem, nobody
can. Which may or may not be a good thing.”

“Oh, John…” she sighed sympathetically and then tried to
sound cheerful. “I’m sure everything will work out and
you’ll be fine.”

“Well, I hope so….Say, hon, do you know where my birth
certificate is?”

“Your birth certificate? Probably in the safe deposit box
down at the bank. Why?”

“Just a crazy idea I just had. Get the key and be waiting
for me. I’ll run by and pick you up in about ten minutes.”

“What are we going to do?” she sounded apprehensive.

“I’ll explain when I pick you up. Bye.”

I drove through town, listening to the strains of the
Beatles’ “A Day in the Life” on the radio. I shook my head
as I sang along with the song, feeling sorry for myself.
“Woke up, got out of bed, and my prick is almost dead.”

Karen was waiting at the door as I pulled up. We didn’t say
anything for the first couple of minutes as I drove to our
local branch, where we had our safe deposit box.

“Are you going to tell me what this is all about?”

“You’re going to think I’m nuts.”

“Trust me, it wouldn’t be the first time,” she grinned.
“Just tell me.”

“Well, as crazy as this seems. I think I’m not Y2K
compliant?” I didn’t dare glance in her direction.

“*What*?!? Have you been drinking?” She edged over and
pretended to smell my breath.

“No. I’m perfectly lucid…well, as lucid as *I* get.”

“Babe, this is nuts. People can’t be Y2K compliant…or non
compliant…or whatever it is. That’s computers, and based
on your memory lately, you’re no computer.” She looked at me
with the same pathetic glance that one reserves for the
mentally imbalanced.

“Honey. I know it sounds crazy, but I was thinking that this
all started right at midnight — right at the new year. It’s
probably nothing, but I have to check this out.”

She sighed deeply and stared out the window, probably
thinking that in addition to her husband being impotent, he
was also losing his mind.

We retrieved our safe deposit box and the teller ushered us
to one of those private rooms that looked just like a public
toilet. The door didn’t go all the way to the floor, and the
walls didn’t rise to the ceiling.

“Is it in there?” Karen asked anxiously.

I flipped through some papers. “Here it is…look. Just like
I thought.” I replied excitedly — perhaps a little too
loudly.

“What?”

“Look at the birth date. 5/15/65. Not 1965, just 65.”

“I still don’t see how this is affecting your…problem.”

“It doesn’t make any sense to me either. But I think we need
to get down to the town hall and have a duplicate birth
certificate made.”

She put all of the papers back into the box and we called
the teller over to put it in the safe. “John…honey. I think
you need to talk to someone…a professional.”

“Karen, I don’t need a hooker to solve my problems. You’ve
always been *more* than enough woman for me.” The last thing
I was going to allow her to do was patronize me.

“I was talking about a therapist. Smartass.”

“Listen. I’m not nuts. I might be grasping at straws, but
I’m not crazy. When this doesn’t work, I’ll go to the
urologist on Friday. I just have to eliminate this as a
possibility.”

Karen sighed and shook her head as we left the bank to go to
the town hall. The clerk’s office was crowded as usual —
but most of the people were waiting in the line for the
building permits. There was only one person ahead of us in
the birth certificate/marriage license line.

When we got to the clerk I asked for a replacement birth
certificate. I handed over two pieces of identification and
paid the clerk the five dollars. I made sure that the year
1965 was written on it clearly. She prepared the paperwork
and a few minutes later returned with my brand new birth
certificate.

“So, do you feel any different?” Karen asked, somewhat
sarcastically as we left the clerks office.

“No. Nothing. But wait a minute. Let me go to the bathroom
just to make sure.”

“*John*,” she whispered insistently. “You can’t be serious.
You’re going to go and play with yourself in the middle of
town hall?”

“No. I said I was going to do it in the bathroom,” I
snickered. “Just wait out here for me. I should find out
quickly one way or the other.”

Karen just shook her head derisively as I entered the men’s
room. I walked into one of the stalls and locked the door.
Despite treating this nonchalantly with Karen, I felt awkward
and conspicuous as hell jerking off in a public rest room.
I was relieved that I was the only one in there.

I took a deep breath and unzipped my fly and fished my
flaccid penis out. Trying to think up the most erotic
imagery that I could muster, I began playing with myself. I
pulled, stroked, tugged, and did everything short of
pleading and praying before I gave up and realized that I
was just fooling myself into thinking that my problem was so
simple as to be solved by getting another birth certificate.

I sat down on the toilet in resignation and pulled the two
documents from my pocket and looked at them in disgust. I
shook my head at my foolishness. What the hell was I
thinking? Maybe Karen was right, maybe I *was* crazy. Out of
frustration, I took the old one and ripped it into several
pieces. I laughed at myself as I flushed the remnants of it
down the toilet.

I stood and started pulling my pants up. I adjusted my limp
member in my jockeys when for the first time in almost a
week I felt a twitch. I quickly pulled down my underwear and
started stroking myself. As if it were a miracle, my once
and future erection began to grow, hardening with each
stroke.

“Karen,” I yelled. “Can you come in here for a minute?”

“John,” she peeked her head in the door just enough to avoid
yelling. “You’re in a men’s room. Just hurry up. I know
you’re upset, but we’ll talk about it at home.”

“Just come in here.” I repeated insistently. “Lock the outer
door if you want.”

I could her an exaggerated sigh as she walked into the men’s
room and quickly came over to my stall. “This better be
good.”

I opened the door and stood directly in front of her, my
manhood pointing proudly in her direction. “Get in here
before anyone comes in.”

“It worked John? I can’t believe this.”

“Well, believe it. Mrs. Adams, congratulations, your
husband’s just given birth to a seven and a half inch
erection.”

I sat back on the toilet and started to lift up her skirt.
Before she realized what was happening, I had her pantyhose
down to her knees.

“John, what are you doing?” she shrieked.

“No time like the present.” I grinned at her lasciviously as
she decided that she had better get it while the getting was
good and kicked off her shoes and pulled down her pantyhose
and panties.

I lifted her on top of me and she eased herself down on my
prick. She moaned as she enveloped me fully and started
rocking herself against me. There was something so sexy —
so risque — about the way her skirt was bunched up around
her waist as she rode me in the stall. We had never been a
couple who was into public sex, but the entire situation was
an incredible turn on.

As she bobbed her hips up and down on my newfound erection
her breathing became very ragged. She sped her pace on my lap
and the quickened movement combined with my pent up frustration
of the past week hastened my release as well. Karen stiffened
and tried to muffle a squeal as her orgasm came, and the
contractions that her pussy made on my cock sent me over the
edge as well. I erupted powerfully into her spasming vagina,
releasing a week’s worth of frustration in one powerful shot.

Spent, we just sat together without speaking for the next
several minutes, enjoying the wonderful afterglow that we
felt as my softening penis fell from her pussy.

I kissed her tenderly on the lips as she tried to stand
without making her skirt a come-soaked mess. She was only
partially successful.

“Oh God, that was incredible.” Karen panted as she picked up
her pantyhose from the floor and threw them into her purse.

“Amazing,” I puffed in agreement. “Well I guess I can cancel
that appointment with the urologist on Friday.”

“Yeah, but take the day off of work just the same,” she
leaned over and gently bit my earlobe. “I have plans for
you.”