The Man in My Bed

My name is Susan Gibbs. I'm 30 years old, and I've been married to Henry Gibbs for five years. Our life together is simple, steady, and happy.

I loved Henry deeply.

Before him, I had never known that kind of pleasure. Being with him taught me just how wonderful it could feel to be a woman.

But everything changed last year, when a car accident took that part of him away.

It was hard for me to accept, but I never once thought about giving up on him. We traveled all over looking for help, visiting specialist after specialist, trying every men's health clinic we could find.

In the end, every doctor told us the same thing. They suggested stimulation therapy, saying it might trigger his body into recovering.

The so-called therapy basically meant using different forms of temptation and arousal to provoke a reaction from Henry.

One night, while I was cooking dinner, I suddenly felt a hand slide around my waist.

I jumped and turned around, only to find Henry standing behind me.

He looked unusually excited, a package tucked under his arm.

"Hurry up and open it," he said.

I tore the package open. The second I saw what was inside, my face burned red.

It was an incredibly revealing dress. The material was so thin that it was practically transparent.

Even though my own desires were stronger than most people realized, deep down, I was actually pretty conservative. Every time we had been together before, Henry had always been the one to make the first move.

Still, when I thought about his condition, I agreed.

If wearing something like this could help stimulate him and make him a normal man again, I was willing to do it.

After dinner, Henry climbed into bed almost immediately, clearly impatient as he waited for me.

The moment I stepped out of the bathroom wearing that dress, he grabbed me before I could even react and tossed me onto the bed.

At least some of the ache inside me eased.

But the next second, Henry's expression collapsed with guilt. He suddenly slapped himself hard across the face.

"I'm useless."

"What's wrong?"

I hurried upright, but the moment I saw his face, I understood everything. A deep, indescribable loneliness settled in my chest, though I still forced myself to comfort him.

"Now that I'm like this… Are you going to find another man?" he asked nervously as he looked at me.

I shook my head without hesitation.

"I'm not leaving you."

Henry smiled, but it looked strained, almost painful. For a split second, disappointment flickered through his eyes.

Not long after that, he fell into a deep sleep.

I, on the other hand, stayed awake the entire night.

The desire he had stirred up earlier still hadn't faded. My whole body burned hot beneath the blankets, and it felt like thousands of tiny insects were crawling beneath my skin, leaving me restless and unbearably on edge.

-

The next morning, I had barely opened my eyes when I saw Henry standing beside the bed with another outfit in his hands.

"Honey, wear this to work today."

I took the clothes from him and immediately frowned.

The dress was just as revealing as the one from last night. It wasn't sheer this time, but it definitely showed far too much skin.

My first instinct was to refuse.

But Henry still wouldn't let it go.

"I can't stop imagining you wearing a dress like this at work," he said. "Maybe it'll help stimulate me again."

I sighed before saying, "Alright."

After enough pleading from him, I finally put the dress on.

Henry's eyes practically lit up.

He kept praising how good I looked in it, then insisted on driving me to work himself.