Author's notes: As always all characters in my story are fictional. Any resemblance to real people is pure coincidence. My wife of nearly 50 years, has been a great help trying to put my thoughts into usable English. I would also like to acknowledge another writer, here, who has given me more help than she realizes. A huge thank you goes to M J Roberts, who unselfishly gave me hints on how to write a better story. One more note, if you are looking for non stop sex, don't look here. This is more a continuation of how one might learn to deal with PTSD.
In my long and sometimes troubling recovery from trauma suffered in a roadside attack, in Afghanistan, while serving in the Army, I have been helped by many wonderful people. Including the team of medical professionals at Walter Reed Medical Center, in Washington, D C.
My psychiatrist, Dr Jennifer Miller, without whom I would not have been able to walk out of that hospital. Dr Mark Cohen, who fixed all of the physical wounds suffered in the explosion. My physical therapist Maggie Blaine, who, along with Dr Cohen, made me get off my ass and work myself back into the world of the living.
My parents, Ron and June Wells, back in Kansas, and, less I forget, my little sister, pita. Really, her name is Pamela, but seeing that she is almost 10 years younger than I am, she was always a pain in the ass, pita!
Last, but certainly not least, I have had the exceptional good fortune of living next door to a living angel. Patricia Ann Morrison, Patsy, all 5'1" and 106 pounds of pure angelic heaven, who became my best friend, sounding board, when I was down, and, oh yes, my lover.
To see us together, me at 6'7" and down to 220, we make quite a couple. Her parents were more than a little skeptical, when we, she broke the news what we had done while they were on their end of summer road trip.
Patrick, more than Gayle, was more than reluctant to let us move on, to see where our relationship was headed. I did concede a bit to his suggestion, and had several inches trimmed off my hair, and shaved my beard, down to a presentable goatee.
Patsy started her virtual classes at Seattle U. majoring in psychology, with the intent of going on to medical school. We decided it was best for her studies, if she did them from her house, just next door from mine.
Every now and then, I would be doing my work, from my home office, when I would hear the patter of little feet, and feeling her naked breasts pressing into my back.
"Is this one of your assignments?" I would ask.
Uh hum, running her hands up and down my muscled chest, while nibbling one ear. Each time we made love, I would ask myself, silently, how in the hell I got so fucking lucky.
She would help me divest myself of my shorts and boxer briefs and would place her body on my throbbing cock, kissing me, deeply, and letting me play with her aroused nipples.
Before any of you get curious, Patsy went with her mother to see moms OB/Gyn. So our use of condoms was replaced by "the pill"
Before any of the readers of the first chapter of this story, get to wondering, yes, I have had a few relapses back into my dark place. I have overcome each bout with my very talented support team, which now includes Patsy's parents.
The summer between her first and second year of school, she informed me that she was taking a couple of extra classes, and showing me her planned schedule, so she would be on track to graduate in just 3 years. With honors!
Between summer classes and fall classes, she quietly asked if we could visit my parents, back in Kansas. Grinning, I said, you obviously haven't been there, during August. Its like sitting in your oven. Extremely hot, with an even hotter wind. She and my family had met, many times on zoom or face time, and seem to get along just fine. Visiting Kansas would have to wait, for now.
The second year of classes just was flying by, with fewer and shorter bouts of reliving my battles. It was nearing the end of this second year of classes, while laying naked on my bed, out of the blue, Patsy asks if I love her.
"Honey, I tell you I love you, every day," I said. "Enough to marry me?" she responded.
"Yes," I responded, with a grin as wide as my backyard, "I never thought you'd ask me." I laughed. Luckily, she didn't see the tears running down both cheeks. "You have made me the happiest man on earth," I gasped. Patsy couldn't reply, as her mouth was filled with my growing cock.
In our time together, she has become a world class cock sucker. much to my delight. She has also become very receptive to my oral ministrations.
Needless to say, the conversation at her parents dinner table, that night was chaotic. Did you tell your parents, Gayle questioned. Among the barrage of questions, one in particular stopped me in my tracks. How many groomsmen do you want, Patrick asked, and as soon as he asked, he knew that hit a very raw nerve.
Virtually every man I would have asked for that honor was killed nearly three years previously. As soon as the question was asked. all three of them moved to my side, hugging me tightly. We must have stayed in our group hug for several minutes, before I smiled. weakly, saying I had thought about that very question from the first time I laid eyes on Patsy.
I realized I hadn't yet told my family, so I quickly set up a video conference. After our usual greetings, the Morrisons gathered around, grinning like the cat who caught the canary.
"You're getting married," mom screamed, almost loud enough for us to hear 1,500 miles away.
I guess moms have this 6th sense, but I asked, stupidly, what makes you say that? Look at Gayle's expression, Rick, she looks like a mother of the bride! Even pita, I mean Pamela, looked really excited. At 19 years of age, and ready to start her college basketball career at Kansas State, with an eye on their world famous School of Vetranary Medicine, she was glowing, she seemed so happy
With so much planning to do, Patsy set out with her unbridled enthusiasm, making lists. and this huge to do list. Just about the only thing that would slow her down was sex. Pure, raw, loving sex.
We would start. with her on top, me on top, great 69ing, and to her newest favorite, doggie style. With our extreme size difference, the best way we discovered worked the best was, Patsy on all fours, with her darling little ass at the edge of the bed, and me standing on the floor.
I would reach underneath, softly rubbing her breasts, and then moving one hand to her clit, massaging it to orgasm. We both found out, some time ago, that I could bring her to multiple orgasms with just one finger, or my talented tongue placed on and all around her very receptive hooded gem.
The next morning, we were just lounging in bed, when my newly crowned fiance whispered in my ear, "we should go shopping for a ring." I couldn't stop grinning. I guess that is a necessity, I stated, tongue in cheek.
The very next thing on my very long to do list was to text Dr Miller. Almost as soon as she read my text, the phone was ringing. All I kept hearing was "Mazel Tov, Mazel Tov" Hebrew for congratulations.
"You do know we aren't Jewish, don't you?" I asked. All I could hear was a quick, who cares, I want an invitation, was the next utterance.
"Is it too early to think about bridesmaids and maid of honor?" Patsy asked. Before I could answer, she stated she wanted my sister in her bridal party. "You know she is over 6' tall, don't you?" "We will make do," she said.
The next few months flew by, with my bride to be inhaling her classes, and my growing security consulting business booming. Texts were flying back and forth between Kansas and Greater Seattle. Plans were taking shape. A small hall was found, and it was decided that this would be a fairly small affair.
As the time was flying by, a registered piece of mail arrived, addressed to Patsy, from the University of Washington, School of Medicine. No way was I going to open it, making me a nervous wreck, until she returned from her classes.
Pouncing on her, as soon as the door closed, her eyes got as big as saucers, tearing the envelope open.
"We wish to inform Ms Patricia Ann Morrison, that she has been accepted into the School of Medicine, at the Seattle campus of the University of Washington."
I'm not sure who was crying more, her or me. First call, her parents. Second, my parents. Finally, Dr Miler, who was overjoyed, as if it was her own daughter.
Being the sensible one in the house, she looked me in the eye, and asked, "any idea how we are going to pay for this?"
In our nearly 3 years together, we had discussed finances, more than a bit, with my business doing well, and her parents paying her college expenses. "You know, I was getting my army pay all 8 months in the hospital, don't you?" I inquired. She just nodded.
"I've never touched that money, you know," I said. Its all sitting in the bank drawing a bit of interest, I added.
Wiping a tear from her eye, and kissing her heading to medical school lips as softly as I could, I told her I would sell my body to pay for this. Laughing at that absurdity, we fell into bed, tossing clothes in every direction. My hands quickly bringing her to the first of many orgasms, for the afternoon, and evening. Making love to my Patsy never got stale. No matter what position we chose, or how we finished the act, we can honestly state that we were never bored. The fact that everything was new for my little Pixie Dust, a nick name that is only used in our bedroom. Under severe punishment.
Onto her third and final year at Seattle U. Several of her professors were Priests, being Seattle U is a Jesuit institution. When she mentioned our pending wedding, several offered their services to officiate.
Wow, we haven't any plans on who will officiate our wedding. The Morrisons are not very religious and don't belong to any church. I asked the entire Morrison family if they minded me asking the Judge who sentenced the clowns who tried to arm Patsy, if he would officiate. He happened to give me his email, just in case.
We all agreed that it sounded like a plan. That being settled, Patrick asked me quietly, if I had any idea who I was going to ask to be my Best Man.
