Our Senior Correspondent on "Sympathy F***s"

(The original posting missed the end of Donna's story. hopefully I have now fixed that error).

Last week we had a little riff in the blog on “sympathy (aka mercyI) fucks”, and a few of you chimed it. When Donna mentioned she’d had some real life experiences I suggested she share, and she has. Here is the little explanation she sent to me, followed by her wonderful, and very moving description. While this isn’t the normal flip tone we keep here at UCTMW, this piece is clearly worth sharing with all of you.

I wrote up the most powerful of the mercy fucks that came to mind, but after writing it-I 'm not sure it really falls into that category.
I have had mercy fucks with a professor who just found out he lost his job because he attended a Vietnam War protest, a service man in uniform on a Greyhound bus, a female dorm friend overwhelmed by the huge university we attended, and a friend recovering from surgery due to Crone's Disease who was afraid he would never be able to use his penis to please a woman again.
I know that may seem like quite a number and there are more, but like most BDSM subs, it was a journey rather than a single event that led me to know who I am and what I need. Plus, I have a big heart. :-)

So I wrote this up and I think it may be too strong for the blog. I need you to be honest. If it isn't right for the blog I will tuck if away for now and eventually the right time or situation for using it will come along.


Mick mentioned mercy fucks in a column last week. I hadn’t thought of it in exactly those terms, but knew immediately what he meant. I imagine most of us who are in open marriages have participated in a mercy fuck.

The situation that comes to mind took place with a friend who I’ll call Sam. He was a great guy, a friend to both Bill and me. We had worked with Sam in some tough and unpleasant situations and knew him to be a hard working man with a heart of gold. His regular job was in a profession that required him to be what people living in that part of the country considered a “manly man”, showing no emotions and no tears. When placed on special assignment to work with us in two week rotations, he let down a bit, joked some and became much more relaxed and open. The three of us often had meals together and shared stories of our kids, our jobs and our lives back at home. When work assignments were completed we kept in touch by phone and email.

One night we received a phone call from Sam’s best friend telling us that Sam’s teenage son had been killed in a car accident. A drunk driver in a pick-up missed a four way stop and T-boned his son’s small car. Immediately we began making arrangements for all the teams to attend the funeral until we received another call from Sam’s friend saying that Sam’s ex-wife insisted the funeral be only family. There were no more emails from Sam and phone calls weren’t returned, so Bill and I sent cards and hand written letters over the course of months, hoping Sam would know we were thinking of him. We never heard back.

The following year we attended a training meeting and were pleased as punch to see Sam walk into the meeting facility. Pleased to see him, but immediately concerned. He had lost weight he didn’t need to lose and his face was pale and drawn. I went over to give him a hug and he hung on tightly and whispered in my ear a choked thank you for all the letters. He asked if he could talk to me when the training was over. Of course I agreed, and he gave me his room number. Then he turned around and left, not staying for the training.

At breaks and at lunch, Sam was the focus of the conversations Bill and I had. Bill’s opinion was that Sam needed to talk to me alone, that he needed someone he felt he could open his emotions to without feeling judged, that he probably needed to be held physically and that he might need sexual release, too. I was glad to know we had both been thinking the same thing.
Bill and I are always point blank honest and clear about this type of situation, so I asked whether he was giving permission for me to have sexual intercourse with Sam should things go that way, and his answer was yes. When the training sessions concluded for the day, we went back to our room, I showered, put on some nice but not sexually stimulating clothing, Bill gave me a big kiss and hug and I went to Sam’s room.

I won’t go into the level of emotional pain Sam had been experiencing except to say that it had been exacerbated by comments from well intentioned friends and relatives. In my experience we never do anyone a favor by telling them that God has a plan and good reason for taking their child; that we aren’t being a good friend to state in a simple manner that things will get better; and it isn’t a positive thing to act as though a deceased child never existed by never mentioning them again or by taking down all the pictures of that child.

I knew that Sam had been divorced for many years and enjoyed playing the field, but one of the things he shared as we talked was that he had not been with anyone since his son’s death. We talked for hours, ordered room service for dinner and, at Sam’s suggestion, called to ask Bill to join us. Bill declined and told me to feel free to stay for as long as I felt Sam needed me.

Sam and I eventually ended up reclining on the crisp white sheets of the king sized bed of that hotel room. We kissed and touched, he cried and I held him. Eventually he fell asleep and I curled up in his arms and slept, too. He woke me in the wee hours of the morning and I knew we would soon be making love, love that comes from being spiritually connected to another human being.

Not having been with Sam before, and Sam never having been with a woman disabled as I am, during foreplay there were those moments of exploring and learning that led to adjustments and sweet laughter. Seeing a spark of life in his eyes and feeling his filled penis against me, I asked whether he had any condoms. I dressed his penis in the all-weather gear and proceeded to twist around and suck him off.

We laid back and talked some more, this time about sex, politics, life, the universe and everything while our hands wandered across each others bodies. Within 30 minutes Sam was reaching for another condom. While he held himself up on his arms, I slowing massaged his balls with one hand and rubbed and pressed the head of his penis rapidly over my clit. He leaned onto his side and took over rubbing my clit with his thumb while I gave him a good solid hand job. I came first and he came soon after with a great release of ejaculate and emotion.

We cleaned up a bit, then I called and woke Bill to tell him that Sam and I were headed toward our room and to please order some coffee and rolls. The three of us talked and later, as I headed in to take a shower to get ready for the day, they each gave me a kiss and Sam gave me a wink and a smile. When I came out, Sam was gone and Bill was reading the paper. We discussed what had happened, Bill made sure I was okay and we headed for our training. Sam was there, looking much better than the day before. He had lunch with us, no mention was made of the night before, and he went out dancing with friends that evening.

We were on assignment with Sam several more times over the years and while I wouldn’t have been opposed to it, we never made our friendship into a three-way or ever made love again.

As human beings, we are sexual creatures and it isn’t at all unusual for there to be a sexual component to the grieving process.

So was this a mercy fuck? It might be called that, but I think I would prefer to think of it in the sense that a friend needed something Bill and I could provide, we cared about him, so we did.

Donna