So there's this flu going around. And I, who usually avoid such infections of the masses, caught it from my lover Dr. Bigcock. When he came over for some TLC from his favorite nurse, he said sex was the furthest thing from his mind. What a rare condition! I witnessed his entire body limp, cock unmoved by my charms, that predictable drive to penetrate undetectable upon examination. The strangeness of the situation inspired me to perform a little experiment in the name of science. Could I cure him with a few strokes of my hand and some sexy words?
"You're welcome to try," he said.
I got a rise out of him in about two seconds. But that wasn't all. I massaged him until he expectorated all over himself. (He was so inspired that he offered me a position as his personal nurse at his home in the Hamptons, where I would have 24-hour access to his female staff). The evidence is conclusive: just because a patient is ill does not mean his sex drive is compromised.
If only my treatment took care of his flu. I let him spend the night in my clinic and the poor thing was up every few hours with coughing spells and trips to the bathroom. The next morning I felt unrested and a bit warm and woozy.
I gave him another treatment (internal, this time), at the expense of my own health. I have no regrets; that's the kind of devotion that makes a great nurse.
We've seen each other almost every day since I've been stricken with aches, pains, and all sorts of nasty expectorations, and something very strange occurred through our cross-contamination. Not only did I catch his flu, I caught his horny bug too. Never in my experience of sickness have I been so interested in sex. My case mirrors his exactly: it is not an obvious symptom, but triggered by our proximity to each other. For example, on a day when I was too sick to leave my apartment, he, being on the mend, went to the store to pick up some things for me. As soon as he appeared, he nearly collapsed because he had overestimated his strength. We curled up together and took a long nap frequently interrupted by phlegm-curdling coughs. Just before he was about to leave, I asked him to help me with a domestic task. He obliged. Afterward, to reward him, I sat him down on the bed and massaged his shoulders. Feeling ever so generous, I broke out the Hitachi Magic Wand and used it for what it was actually designed for: therapeutic body massage. I had no intention to turn him on. Even as I rolled the wand over his lower back, and he lowered his pants to reveal his ass, I didn't think my actions would lead to sex. The thought was there, of course, as a sneaky little naughty "what if I massaged a little lower" temptation, but I let it be. My focus was on making him feel better in a way that didn't involve inviting him to exert himself further through orgasm.
When I was done with his massage, I lay down and he began to return the favor. Then suddenly, impulsively, I directed the wand to my crotch. It was the gesture of one too weak and feverish to know the reasons for her actions, like a delirious patient reaching blindly for her dose of pills, or a drug addict stabbing a needle into her arm in a moment of crisis. One thing led to another...and we both got ourselves off with the aid of that wonderful wand. (Why doesn't every doctor have one? No wonder our health-care system is a mess!)
Western medicine teaches us that rest is the best prescription to combat colds and flus. I always thought that meant "no sex," since when the body is engaged in sexual activity, it is not exactly resting. However, according to other traditions such as Chinese medicine, sex is considered a powerful healing method when the sexual energy is focused on the afflicted areas. I don't know if our orgasms helped purge our infections, but the pleasure almost made me forget I was sick.
On other occasions while my love and I were glamorously lounging in our germs, and sudden sexual desire overpowered our bodies' need for rest, I didn't mind his feverish sweat drenching me as he pumped away. As long as we kept our lips to ourselves, and turned away to cough and spit, we felt that we were doing our bodies good. I've made some interesting discoveries through these experiments in sick sex. Whenever I coughed while he was fucking me, my pussy automatically squeezed his cock. Now he says, "Oh yeah, cough please! I love it when you cough!" (Even when you're not sick, ladies, next time your man is thrusting inside you, give him a little cough and watch his face.)
It seems that our biological drive to procreate trumps illness, according to Dr. Bigcock who claims, "I'd have to be in a coma or dead [to not be interested in sex]." Then again, I've never tried these experiments during a bad case of diarrhea.
In the case of general flus and colds, I recommend quiet sex with your partner especially if you are both sick. You both already got it, so no one is going to catch anything. And if only one of you is afflicted, consider this: wouldn't you rather catch it from your lover than some slob who sneezes all over you on the train?
To minimize your chances of infection, here are some guidelines:
1) No Kissing! There are more germs in the mouth than in other orifices!
2) No Oral Sex! (Same reason as "No Kissing")
3) No marathon sex or crazy positions or BDSM (That would be like running a mile while you're sick instead of doing some light yoga...)
4) Be polite: don't cough or sneeze or blow your noses on each other (unless that turns you on...GROSS)
5) In between sexual healing sessions, get plenty of rest and drink lots of fluids (cum doesn't count)
An orgasm a day may not keep the flu away, but it sure makes being sick a lot more fun.