Saturday morning I awoke to … pain. In fact every part of me ached; as I knew it would the night before when I was plummeting toward the floor from a ladder.“Bad?” Kent asked. He was looking at my stiff dick but listening to me groaning when I tried to move to take my morning piss. (For any piss pigs out there wondering why my husband didn’t take care of that for me right there and then: we do that in the wet room not in our bed.)“Ohhhhhhhhhh,” I groaned again as I slowly pulled myself to sitting on the side of the bed. “Aaaaaack!” I hissed as I got to my feet. “FUCK ME!” I said hobbling toward the bathroom.“Much as I’d love to it seems like that’s not the type of help you need right now hon,” Kent commiserated.“What I need is either a spinal tap, traction, or a massage,” I called over the loud stream of my piss.“I don’t think the first or second are likely to happen; but remember that young chiropractor who gave us his card a few weeks ago? I remember it said ‘Therapeutic Massage’ on it?”“What about that cute little masseur I used back in February; after I strained every muscle in my body
