This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance
 to real persons is unintentional and strictly
 coincidental. If you're below the age of 18, or 21
 depending on your locality, stop reading right now.
 If your government prohibits erotic literature, stop
 reading now and delete this. If you choose to continue,
 that is your decision -- and your responsibility -- 
 not mine

 This is intended solely for adults, and any other
 rebroadcast, retransmission, and account of this game
 is strictly prohibited by the National Hockey League.
 Wait--The NHL doesn't care --I care. Any unauthorized
 redistribution of this is in violation of copyright.
 I expressly prohibit posting of thiswork on pay-sites,
 sites with advertising, and any type of site where a
 fee is charged. Any distribution without the author's
 permission is strictly prohibited. Do not repost!

 This is Copyright © 1999 by John3365A@aol.com.
 All rights reserved.

 Non Compliant
 by John A

 "Come here babe."

 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 antici-
 pation, 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 whatso-
 ever 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 sympatheti-
 cally 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 (TM).

                     ------------

 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?

 -- 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 with 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 down-
 stairs 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 though 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 totalk 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'm glad 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. "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 pulled her on top of me and she eased her self 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."

 Like it? Let me know. Thanks.

 john3365a@aol.com
 Copyright © 1999 John3365a@aol.com