Bent & Broken Ch. 01
Young aunt takes over her college nephew's space.
Author's Note: Thanks to shygirlwhore for her careful editing and her thoughtful comments and suggestions. She's awesome!
*
The summer after my freshman year in college, my Mom informed me that I had to move out of our basement apartment. My Aunt Claire, her much younger sister, was moving in. Claire was a Olympic-caliber equestrian jumper. She would be training for the national championships at a brand new facility that had just been built near our city.
I remember going to watch Claire ride with Mom when I was younger. If you've ever watched horse jumping on tv, it probably didn't seem that impressive. But, in person? Seeing how big those jumps are? I was a pissed off teenager with a smart phone and a bunch of friends, but once I got a look at what she did, I put my phone away. It was harrowing, like watching someone rock climb without any safety gear.
Also, I think some people see horseback riding as kind of like riding a motorcycle. Any slob can do it, right? Not true. Claire was a fucking athlete. No doubt about it. I remember feeling a little bit guilty about eyeballing her ass in those tight white riding pants. She was twelve years younger than Mom and eight years older than me. She really looked good.
But, I was pissed when I found out about the basement apartment. Mom let me move down there right after I graduated, and I loved the privacy. It was key for having friends or girls over because I didn't have to go through the house. I had my own pretty nice bathroom, kitchen, and den area. Now, I lost it to Aunt fucking Claire for the whole summer. I had to move back to my shitty old room upstairs.
Mom's an anti-trust attorney, protecting huge companies from the government. I learned long ago that she had to read enormously long documents and that settling a case out of the courtroom was always, always, always cause for celebration. When she couldn't settle and went to trial? Damn. She was gone for weeks. Hell, months, even.
You're wondering about my Dad, maybe. Nah. He's not in the picture.
Anyways, two major events coincided to change my summer from bad to something else. First, a case Mom felt positive was going to settle at the eleventh hour? Didn't settle. Went to trial. She spent two insane weeks basically living at her office and preparing, and then she flew out to D.C. for the trial. Second, the day Mom took off, Aunt Claire got thrown from her horse, broke both arms and fucked up her back.
Mom never left the airport in D.C. Flew right back. I met her at the airport and drove her to the hospital to see Claire.
They argued in the hospital. Aunt Claire had her two casts on, and this kind of immobilizer thing around her torso.
"Maybe I can get the judge to give us an extension," Mom offered.
"No. Go do your trial. I'll be fine. Besides, could you even get an extension?"
"No, probably not."
"So, go," Claire suggested.
"I'll hire a nurse."
"You don't need to, Beth."
Mom turned to me. "Jimmy, give us a sec, will you?"
I nodded and left, but I could hear everything.
"Claire, how are you going to take care of yourself?"
"Jimmy can bring me food."
"But, surely, he can't take care of your bathroom needs," Mom insisted.
"No, of course, not. Beth, the minute I get this thing off me, I will be able to do all that myself."
"With two broken arms? You're going to wipe your bottom with two broken arms?"
"I'll find a way. No nurse."
Mom pursued. "And if you have a problem? What then? Jimmy? Forget about it."
"Of course not Jimmy."
"Well, what, then? Who? When this trial starts, I'm gone. I might make it back for a weekend here and there, but don't count on it."
"Alright, get a fucking nurse."
"Good. Yes," Mom said, breathing a sigh.
"I don't want her living in my apartment. Just daytime, only, okay?"
"What? What if something happens, Claire?"
"Jimmy. He's got a phone. He'll get me help."
"He's upstairs!"
Claire reasoned, "Have him crash on the basement couch for a couple weeks, and by then I'll be fine."
Mom didn't respond for a second, and then she said, "Claire, he's in college. He's got parties and friends. He's out all night sometimes and he's got...dates. It's asking an awful lot of him to give up his nights. Just let me get a nurse."
"Look, Beth, I don't want some person I don't even know living with me 24 hours a day. It's a few weeks. Jimmy can handle it. He can jerk off."
"Claire!"
"You know what I mean."
"Well, you keep saying 'a couple weeks,' 'a few weeks,' but it's going to be at least six."
"I know what the doctor says, Beth. What I mean is in a few weeks, I'll have this brace off and be able to be independent and move around."
Mom nodded. "Are you sure?"
"Yes. No live-in nurse."
"Alright, daytime only."
Mom was in a panic because she was missing jury selection, but she stayed until we got Claire home and set up in the apartment. The nurse came that afternoon. She was a big, short lady, in her fifties. Her name was Jane.
Before Mom left, the nurse asked her if she was sure Claire didn't want a nurse to stay overnight.
"She's sure," Mom said.
"Alrighty, who will be here for Claire?" the nurse asked in her nasally voice.
"Jimmy."
She turned to me, "Have you ever taken care of an injured person before?"
"No."
The nurse looked at Mom. Mom shook her head.
"Alrighty, I'll train you."
Mom left to catch a flight, and I got trained by Nurse Jane.
No visual aids or practical application of skills, this was straight lecture. I learned how to sponge bathe a person. I learned how to remove the immobilizer brace Claire had to wear. I learned how to safely move her. I learned how to protect her casts from moisture. I learned how to administer Claire's meds. I learned how to feed her. I learned how to wipe a pussy. I learned how to wipe an ass. I was glad Mom had already gone.
Nurse Jane left at 9:00pm. I checked in on the wounded.
"Aunt Claire, you need anything?"
She shook her head.
"I'll just be upstairs if you do."
She nodded and I went up, watched a movie and bitched about my situation to friends on the phone.
I fell asleep up there, and I woke up at just after midnight. Aunt Claire was screaming for me.
I ran down and into her room. She was pale and dripping with sweat. I about froze when I saw her.
"Where the fuck were you?" she croaked.
"I fell asleep up there. I'm sorry."
"Fucking useless little shit. Get me some water. Fuck!"
I ran and filled a cup with ice and water and a straw. I raced back and held it while she sipped. Her lips pumped it out and she moaned while she drank. She drained the whole cup—a 32 ouncer.
"Are you alright? Can I do anything?"
She was panting. "It's these pain killers. They fucking suck. Wait." Her fingers extended and clenched on the casts, and then she grimaced. "Oh, fuck me! Fuck!"
"I'll call the nurse."
"Get me better meds, stronger. Oh, shit!"
I called Nurse Jane. She answered on about the eighth ring. I explained what I saw and what Claire wanted.
"Is it constant pain or in waves?" she asked.
"Waves, I think. She's in bad shape."
"Alrighty. Well, I can't get you new medications tonight."
"Please!"
"I can't. But, I can bring her some in the morning. I'll be a little late after picking them up."
"What should I do?"
"You can take her to the emergency room or stay. If you stay, give her water, but don't give her any more of the pink pain pills, alrighty?"
"Can I give her anything at all for the pain?"
"Advil, if you have it, would be fine." I could hear Aunt Claire moaning across the hall for me.
"Okay, thanks." I hung up and ran back to Claire.
"Is she coming? Is she bringing me something better?"she asked.
"No, she's..."
"Fucking cunt! What did she say?"
"She says not to give you any more of the pink ones..."
"No fucking shit, Jimmy!"
"...and to take you to the emergency room if you want. If not, she'll come in the morning with something better. I can give you Advil," I offered.
"Advil? Fucking Advil when my back is going to rip apart?"
"Should I drive you or call an ambulance?"
"No! Fuck! I don't want to move. Get the Advil," she almost screamed.
I did and gave her four. I brought her more ice water.
"Oh, shit. Oh, fuck," she moaned. "Thank you, Jimmy."
"Want me to go now?"
"No! Stay with me, please."
"Okay."
"Jimmy. Water." I fed it to her. The lull in pain lasted about five minutes, and then another wave hit.
"Oh, no. Oh, fuck, no." She moaned, grimacing. I couldn't help but think of how tv shows dramatize women giving birth. This seemed like that.
I felt pretty helpless in the face of her agony, but I decided to try and comfort her. I put a couple of my fingers in her hand, and she gripped them against the cast. It actually really hurt, but I was in no situation to complain. She held my fingers, and I reached up and touched her hair. It was auburn, like Mom's, but straighter. Her hair was wet with perspiration.
When the wave of pain passed, I let her go and got two towels; I put some ice in one. I came back and dabbed her forehead. I blotted around her hair, face, and neck while she laid there without moving or speaking. I put the ice towel on her forehead.
Another surge of pain rose up, and I let her squeeze my fingers. She wailed and cursed. At some point I put my head beside hers—my forehead in the pillow—and I petted her hair. Our ears touched.
"Thank you, Jimmy."
"I wish I could do more for you, Aunt Claire."
"Claire. Just call me Claire."
"Okay."
"Stay with me, Jimmy," she said, and then she asked, "Do you still go by Jimmy?"
"Some people call me that."
"Do you care?"
"No," I said.
"You don't have a nickname or anything?"
Before I could control it, I smiled. But, I tried to hide it by looking down.
"What?" she asked.
"Nothing. Forget it."
"No. Tell me. What? You have a nickname?" she asked.
"I'm sorry. I couldn't—it's not appropriate."
"Tell me."
I sighed. "Jaycock."
A burst of laughter erupted from her lips, and then she groaned, "I'm sorry I asked."
Another wave hit, and I held her. When it passed, she asked for more water, and I adjusted the ice towel.
"Who gave it to you? The nickname?" she asked, breathing deeply.
"Brothers at the frat."
She nodded. Then an idea occurred to her. "You're a KU fan, aren't you? The Jayhawks? Is that where it's from?"
"Right, mostly."
"Well, that's not so bad. I've heard worse...wait, what do you mean 'mostly?'"
"It's embarrassing, Claire. Forget it."
"Okay, " she said. "Water, please, Jimmy." I brought it to her lips. She laid there in silence, and then I heard her breathing increase. "Jimmy, grab me."
I did.
"Fuck. Talk to me. It's coming. Tell me something."
"What do you want to hear about?"
"Something. Anything. Jimmy. Oh, fuck. Tell me about Jaycock. Anything." She screamed, and I put my head next to hers, letting her squeeze my fingers. I told her.
"Don't get mad, but they called me that because it's bendy. It...bends up. My...you know. Sorry, if that's gross, Claire. This girl back at school, she said something to one of my brothers one night. Drunk. They made her draw a picture. And they knew about how I liked KU basketball, and someone said 'Jaycock' and that was the beginning of it."
I didn't know how much she heard, but a minute or so later, the groaning stopped and she laid still. "Oh, shit. Water, Jimmy." I gave her some. She laughed. "I'm sorry. I'm not laughing about your—your penis. I'm laughing because I—oh, shit, what would Beth say—because I'm lying here in pain, and you're helping me, and your Mom was right about the nurse, and now I know more about your penis than your own mother."
"It's a pretty fucked up situation, isn't it?" I said, smiling. She laughed and cried in pain and laughed.
We talked and worked through the pain and talked some more. I was surprised to find it was almost four in the morning when I checked the time.
"Jimmy?"
"Yeah."
"I have to pee. Bad."
"Do you want me to carry you to the toilet?"
"No! Shit, no. I don't want to move."
"What should I do?"
"Can you handle this?"
"I think so."
"I don't want to sit in a mess of my own urine until Nurse Jane arrives."
"Right."
"Get something—something throwaway. Cheap plastic. Get two of them."
I hesitated.
"Jimmy, I'll be peeing sideways. A basin type one to catch it all, and another one to make sure it doesn't spray all over the bed down there—to stop it and let it run down to the basin."
I started to run.
"No! Not yet! Stay with me now." We held each other and fought through another round of pain. "Okay," she breathed, "go. I can't hold it through another one of those. Hurry!"
I ran to the kitchen and found two shitty plastic Tupperware bins. I figured they were big enough. I showed them to her when I got back. She nodded.
"Pull down the sheets. Gently."
I did, exposing her very shapely legs.
"My panties, now. Carefully, Jimmy."
I lifted up her gown and saw simple, light blue panties. I slipped my fingers under the straps on her hips, and slid them down. She shaved. I pulled them down and off her feet.
She groaned and spread her legs a little, and she lifted her knees. She panted, and I put the basin container beside her pussy.
"Get the other one. Hurry."
I put the other one inside the basin one, vertically, forming an L.
"Okay. Fuck. I'm going to lift up now. Slide it under me." She stopped. "Jimmy, it will be less messy if you hold me open. Can you?"
I nodded, and she screamed and lifted her ass off the bed a few inches. It was enough.
I slid the container under her and held it with one hand and then, fuck me, I opened up her pussy with the index and middle finger of my other hand.
She was fully exposed and urine blasted out of her. I couldn't believe the spray, but the containers worked, apart from some back splattering on her legs and tummy. She pissed and moaned and pissed more. Her legs trembled.
She went for a long time, and when she finished, she screamed, "Slide it out!"
I let go of her lips and slid the container out just before she let her ass back down.
"Oh, fuck that hurt."
I carefully removed the container and went to the toilet to dump it.
"Jimmy, hurry. It's coming again."
I dumped it and ran back to her. She clenched my fingers and I put my head beside her, but sideways so that I could still see her pussy. Claire had beautiful legs, and I couldn't help but stare at her pussy. She put her head against mine and wailed into my ear, and there was something bizarrely sexual about the entire thing.
I was hard. I tugged at my shirt to make sure it hung over my groin.
When the agony passed, she whispered, "I'm sorry, Jimmy, but thank you."
"It's nothing, Claire."
"Jimmy?"
"Yeah?"
"Can you clean me up?"
I did my best to camouflage the hard on, and then I fetched a warm wash cloth and came back. She didn't say anything as I dabbed and wiped her clean. But, when I was about to get up, she stopped me.
"Jimmy, you've got to get the inside, too."
I nodded. I pulled her lips apart and drug the warm, wet cloth front to back across her pussy and clit a few times.
"That's good. Thank you."
Back in the bathroom, I adjusted my bendy cock, trying to get it pinned to my tummy by my underwear and pants. I let my tee shirt fall over the front, and I walked a little bit hunched over, but not so I looked like an idiot.
I came back and stood beside her. After a few seconds, she said, "Jimmy?"
"Yeah?"
"Are you going to put my panties back on?"
"Oh, shit. Sorry, Claire."
I hunch-walked to the end of the bed, and I picked her panties up off the floor. I think I caught a bit of a smirk on her face when I came up. I tried not to look at her or her pussy as I slid them over her feet and up her legs.
"Be gentle, Jimmy."
I tugged them, alternating sides, until the straps were back in place over her hips.
"They're bunched up underneath. Can you pull them up?"
I slid my hand under her ass, and I pinched the back hem of her panties right in her ass crack, and pulled them the rest of the way up and over her ass. Her ass was soft and firm, and my imagination ran wild.
"The sheets and blankets, too, please."
I lifted them up and over her legs, and then another peak of pain struck, and I held Claire until it passed.
When she could semi-relax again, she said, "Yesterday, I was getting ready for nationals. Today, I can't move and my nephew just helped me piss into a Tupperware container." She laughed and cried, and then she just cried.
I held her, and saw her through another wave.
"Wipe my eyes?" she asked, and I did. She smiled at me. "You've been great, Jimmy."
"Thanks."
"Jimmy?"
"Yeah?"
"You can't tell your Mom about this."
"I won't."
"She'd freak if she knew all you had to do to help me."
"Yeah."
"When she calls, just tell her about the pain, okay?"
"Right."
"Don't tell the nurse, either."
"Right, I won't."
"Okay," she said, ramping up her breathing, "here comes another one."
She got through it, and I held her and I gave her water and I caressed her hair. She got through a bunch more, and it was almost 8:00am.
The doorbell rang, and I said, "That's gotta be her."
I got up and Claire said, "Wait."
I stopped.
"Come close, I want to thank you."
I leaned to her.
"You were terrific." She kissed me on the lips, and sank back on the bed, exhausted.
I ran and let the nurse in, and then I crashed.
Two hours later, Mom called and woke me up, checking in. I took the phone and went down to the basement. Claire was out cold, and at Mom's request, I passed the phone to Nurse Jane.
I listened to the report, and it sounded okay. Jane mentioned the new pain killer and how it was working much better. She told my Mom that Claire had been very complimentary of my help the previous night.
She passed the phone back to me.
"Hey, what's up, Mom?"
"You were up all night with Claire?"
"Yeah."
"Thank you, Jimmy. I'm so sorry. I should have been there."
"It's fine, Mom. I got to know her a little bit better, and she seems good now."
"Well, I appreciate it."
"Things going okay for you?"
"Too early to tell."
"Any chance you'll be home next weekend?"
"Not unless there's an emergency."
"Right," I said, "Hey, Mom, I'm beat. Mind if I cut this short and get some sleep?"
We said our good-byes, but before I could leave, Nurse Jane gave me the new pain killer instructions. Apparently the stuff would make Claire tired and loopy. Given last night, Nurse Jane expected Claire to sleep until her next dose, and then sleep again.
I nodded drowsily and went back to bed.
***
At some point in the afternoon, Nurse Jane was relieved by a colleague. I met her while I was eating. The key difference between this new one and Nurse Jane was the absence of the word "alrighty."
She rehashed many of Jane's instructions while I wolfed down a homemade hoagie and chips.
"Has she woken up, yet?" I asked.
"No."
"She slept through her noon dosage?"
"Uh-huh."
***
At around six, I heard some yelling downstairs. Claire must have woken up in great pain. There was some kind of argument. Once it had settled down, I went to the apartment to visit.
The new nurse was pissed off; I could read it on her face. Claire was out again, so I left.
I came back on duty at nine, Claire wasn't due for meds until midnight, so I watched a movie on the couch downstairs.
Claire called for me before midnight.
"How are you doing?" I asked.
"Shitty."
"Is the pain coming back?"
"Little by little," she said, and then she glanced at me, "Did the nurse say anything?"
"Like what?"
"Oh, I think I upset her."
I shook my head.
She continued, "I just don't like all these people I don't know getting into my personal space. I was a bitch to her."
"How are the new meds?"
"I take them, and I fall asleep."
"So, better."
She nodded.
"Need anything?" I asked.
"Just some normal company, and my next dose."
"Do you want it now?"
She nodded, and I got her a fresh glass of ice water and a pill. She took it, and then asked me to fetch her tablet. I held it for her and typed in what she needed. I helped her check her email, Facebook, and the news.
I could hear the drug's effect in her voice after about ten minutes, and when, eventually, she told me to put away her tablet, she was clearly under its influence. She was hammered.
"Hey, Jayhawk?"
"Yeah?"
"This is pretty humiliating for me."
"What is?"
"I took the medicine early, you know."
"Right."
"Because I need to go to the bathroom."
"Oh."
"And I didn't think I could do it unless I was stoned."
"I'll just go get..."
"No, Jayhawk. It's the other kind."
"Oh."
"Carry me to the toilet."
I had to take off her brace, first. I pulled the sheets down. The immobilizer was shaped like a big O on the front. The top looped over her tits, the bottom was on her pelvis, and the sides were on her hips. I unlatched one side, and it opened like a door.
I slid my arms under her and lifted her off the bed. She was light.
"Geez, college boy, you're pretty strong," she said, and then she whimpered, "Oh, shit. Gentle. Gentle."
I got her into the bathroom and asked her if she could stand. She told me a little bit.
"Take off my panties."
The nurse must have changed them at some point. These were pink. I slipped them down.
"Beth, I'm half naked in front of Jayhawk!" she called to the ceiling. "He touched my pussy yesterday!"
I helped her sit down, and spread her gown so that it hung over the sides of the stool. Then, I made to leave. I got to the door, and Claire called to me.
"What's up?"
She started to say somethings, and then she said, "Forget it, college boy. I'm good."
I closed the door.
Then, I heard her say, "Oh, fuck it," and it sounded like she was pissing on the floor.
"Claire, you okay?"
"No. Fuck. Wait."
I waited, and then she called for me. I walked in and there was piss all over her legs and on the floor. She was laughing. "I pissed on myself, Jawcock...er Jayhawk. Jayhawk? No, it was Jaycock. That's it!"
"Are you done?"
"Yep. I peed on myself, and then I pooped." She said, a woozy smile on her face.
I flushed it.
"There's more to clean up now, Jaycock. Can I call you that?"
"Whatever you like, Claire."
"What do we do now, college boy?" she asked with a grin.
"Can you wait here a minute?"
She nodded.
I ran and put the rubber sheet on her bed, and then I put a towel over it. Then I got the sponge, soap, and the bin Nurse Jane showed me. I got a dry towel, too.
I went back and picked her up as gently as I could. She said, "Now you've got my piss on you."
I laid her down on the bed. She cringed and yelped, but I got her comfortable.
There was piss on her gown. "Can I take this off?" I asked her.
She nodded. "Get me naked, Jaycock. Its sponge bath time."
I untied the gown behind her neck and lifted it off. Claire had gorgeous tits. Handfulls. I lifted up her knees and peered in at her ass. It was clean. I sighed in relief.
"Is it bad?" she asked, sounding like a little kid.
"There's nothing. You're good."
"Woo hoo!" she shouted. "I shit clean. Oh, yeah. Uh-huh."
I chuckled, and Claire laughed at my laugh. Then, I sponged her over.
I worked my way from her feet and up; she watched me silently. My cock was concrete, and I did my best to keep it hidden. When I finished at the top of her thighs, I looked at her.
"Tell me if you want me to stop," I said, and I started sponging her crotch.
Her voice softened. "Remember to get in there, not just the outside, college boy."
I pulled her lips apart and wiped the sponge over her. I did it again. Then, again.
"Okay," she said, softly.
I slid my hand under her ass, and sponged her asshole.
"Jaaaaaycoooooock," she sing-songed, "You never got me a new gown to cover my boobies."
"Shit. I'm sorry, Claire." I rose up and stepped off.
Her eyes widened. "Wait. College boy! Are you hard?"
I looked down, and I was obvious. "Yeah."
"Oh, my goooooooosh!" she sang.
"Sorry, Claire."
"You like your Aunt's body?"
"I'm sorry, but you are really sexy, Claire."
She considered me for a few seconds, and then she said, "Show it to me."
I hesitated.
"You've seen me. I've got my tits and my pussy hanging out and you just washed my asshole. The whole show, you got. Now, I want to see this Jaycock thing of yours."
I hesitated.
"Come on, college boy, I won't tell anyone."
I took a deep breath and flipped my shorts over it, dropping them to my thighs. My bendy cock breathed fresh air and tasted freedom.
"Oh, my," she said. "Come closer."
I walked to the side of her bed.
"Oh, shit, look at that bend."
I gazed at her body while she studied my dick.
"Lift it up to your tummy."
I grabbed it and lifted.
"Okay," she said, "This is so naughty. Beth would kill me, you know." Then she looked up at the ceiling and cried, "Beth! Your son has a beautiful dick! He's showing it to me now!"
I lifted up my shorts.
"No. Don't," she said. "Take off the rest of your clothes. I want to see your body."
I did.
"Turn around."
I did.
"College boy! You have a hot ass bod. Let's fire the nurses, and then you can take care of me."
I smiled.
"Do you want to feel my boobies?"
"I do," I said, "but I don't think I should."
She stared at me, stunned, and then pouted her lips. "Why not, Jaycock?" She said it like a little girl.
"You're hurt and on some pretty hefty pain killers right now. I don't think you'd normally ask me to do that."
"Normally? You just washed my pussy. There's no normal."
"To make sure you were clean. You needed me to," I argued.
"But, you liked it. Look at your cock."
"I'm a guy."
"You're naked in front of me."
"You wanted me to strip."
"So, this is about what I want and not what you want?" she asked.
"I guess so."
"What if I told you I wanted your hands on my boobies?"
"I'd say you were trying to twist my rules around."
She thought for a second, and then picked a new place to strike. "Okay, college boy, let me ask you this: are you going to jerk off tonight? Don't even tell me you're not."
I shrugged and nodded.
"Thinking about me?"
I nodded.
"So, what if I told you to do it, right now, here."
I said, "I don't think I should," but my face probably betrayed my true feelings a little.
"Do it right here; you can look at my body. Here," she said, and she lifted her knees, showing me her pussy. She winced and moaned.
"You won't be pissed tomorrow, complain to my fucking Mom about me, humiliate me for life?"
"No," she said, "College boy, please. Let me see you jerk it. Let me see it cum."
I grabbed it, and the skin over the hardness was like plastic wrap over marble. I looked at Claire's pussy, and I pulled on myself. Fuck, the relief of it was like the first taste of food after a long fast.
"Come closer."
I walked around to her bedside and she watched my hand tug along the curved length of my cock.
"You want to feel my tits now?"
I nodded, and I reached, and the moment I held one in my hand, feeling the hard nipple against my palm, my scrotum began tightening around my balls. I squeezed her breast, and it was perfectly firm and young and warm. I caressed her nipple in my fingertips and I imagined myself sucking on it.
"College boy, that feels so good."
Her eyes were closed, and she sounded so relaxed and soothed when she spoke; it lifted me higher.
"Shit, Claire," I grunted, and she turned and looked at my cock again.
I tugged, slow and smooth.
"Are you going to cum?"
I nodded.
"Touch my pussy first."
Not wanting to switch hands on my dick, I walked around to the other side of the bed. I reached down and rubbed my fingers along Claire's pussy, letting my middle finger slip between the crease and drag across her clit. It was wet, soft, and warm. My middle finger rubbed her clit. Claire moaned, her eyes still locked on my dick.
I came, the head of my dick just inches away from her naked body.
My bendy cock—I may not have been clear about this—bent up, about half-way vertical. Anyway, when I cum, I shoot as much up as I do out.
The first torrent leaked out the top and over my knuckles, the rest, though, per usual, fucking rainbowed out of it.
Claire said, "Oh!" She watched it leap out of my cock and land on her belly button. The next landed on the mound of her pussy. The next landed on the towel. The rest spilled out over my hand. I drew my other hand back from her pussy.
"Oh, shit, college boy," she said, and she was laughing.
I was still coming down, panting.
She looked over my hand and her body, "That was...I've never seen anything like it. There's cum on my pussy. Shit!"
I looked her over and said, "Another sponge bath?"
"Yeah, I guess so."
I cleaned my cum off her. The drugs were tiring her out; she just watched me with a little smile on her face, her head nodding occasionally. I picked her up, set her in a chair, and removed the rubber sheet and towel. I reset her back brace, and then I lifted her up and on it. I reattached it, put on new panties—I picked black ones—and then I covered her with her sheets and blankets.
She turned to me. "My favorite nurse," she uttered. She fell asleep, and after I cleaned up the bathroom floor, I took a shower.
When I laid on the couch to sleep, I wondered how much she would remember and how it would make her feel. Did I just set myself up for destruction?Bent & Broken Ch. 02
Nephew takes care of injured Aunt.
Author's Note: All thanks to my editor, shygirlwhore.
*
She called me in at about 5:00am.
"Jimmy, can you bring me some fresh water?"
I fetched it for her. No mention of last night.
"Stay with me? I need to make it to 6 o'clock to get back on schedule for these pain killers."
I nodded. We watched some videos on her tablet. She bore the pain, and I held her. It wasn't as bad as that first night, and it didn't come in waves. It was more of a constant build up.
She made it. I gave her the meds, and she zonked out.
***
Nurse Jane came to visit me when she heard me in the upstairs kitchen.
"She wants to see you," she said.
"Right." I started off.
"Did you have to change her underwear last night?"
I stopped. "Uh, yeah. She had to pee and it got messy."
"Alrighty."
I went downstairs and Claire smiled when I came in.
"Nurse Jane didn't follow you, did she?"
I was confused. "Uh, no."
"I told her I wanted to talk to you alone."
"Right. What's up?"
"Jimmy, I'm sick of having weird ladies take care of me. I hate it that they're cleaning up after me and feeding me and washing me. It's just humiliating having them in my personal space. Also, the new pain killers are working really well, and my back is improving. What I'm saying is I think in the next few days, I'll be more independent. Maybe I'll have the brace off, even."
"Okay."
"So, will you be my full-time nurse?"
"Claire, I'm no nurse. I don't know what I'm doing if..."
"Nothing is going to happen, Jimmy. And you're wrong: you've done a great job."
I didn't say anything.
"I trust you, Jimmy. I'm okay with you, you know, doing those things. You're not like those weird ladies."
"But, my Mom, she'll freak."
"She won't know."
"How?"
"I'm paying for the nurses, not her."
"She's going to call. She's going to want to talk to them."
"Don't answer. Send her a text saying I'm doing great."
"What if she comes home this weekend?"
"Then we tell her we let them have the weekend off because we knew she was coming home."
I considered.
"Look, Jimmy. It's like I said: by the time she figures it out I'll be good."
"And if something bad happens?"
"It won't. But, you can take me to the emergency room if it does."
"So, I just hang out with you all day, feeding you and stuff?"
"It won't be all day. You'll have time to go out for a few hours here and there. I'm not going to make you sit by my bedside all day."
I was thinking. I'd get to see her naked. A lot. I'd have to clean a little piss from her pussy—that wasn't so bad. I'd have to wipe her ass, though, and that was gross. But, maybe, just maybe—when she was high on her meds—I could feel those tits again, finger that pussy. Jerk off to her naked body. For a week or two? Fuck, yeah, I was going to do it.
"Please, Jimmy, I can't have these women that I don't know around me anymore. I need you. I trust you."
"Right. I'll do it."
"Oh, thank you! Gimme a hug!"
I went over and hugged her softly. She pecked me on the cheek.
"Okay, send Nurse Jane down," she said
I did, and I never saw her again. Claire needed her medicine a short time later. I gave it to her and hung out, hoping for something to happen.
She asked for food. I brought her a sandwich and some crackers. I fed her and watched her slowly descend into the woozy grip of her pain killers.
But, this time was different. Claire sank into depression. I spent the hour consoling her, wiping tears from her eyes, and listening to her disappointment about nationals. Then, she slept.
Later that day, I had to help her in the bathroom. She made it easy on me, but it was no fun. On a hunch, I did some online shopping and found some devices designed for situations like hers, personal hygiene tools. I showed them to her on her tablet and she had me order a few of them—rush delivery. I had to put up with bathroom duty the next day, but the day after that, I was free.
The one duty I didn't mind at all—the sponge bath—I got to keep that job.
But giving a sponge bath to a depressed woman was not so enjoyable. Claire's descent into sadness didn't make being her nurse as much fun as I hoped. Her back was definitely improving, but her emotional state only got worse.
I spent a lot of time giving hugs, listening, and just hanging out with a supremely disappointed, albeit beautifully sexy, woman.
I was getting frustrated, and on the night of my third day as her full-time nurse, I ordered Claire up.
"I don't need the bathroom."
"We're not going to the bathroom."
"Where are we going?"
"Outside for a walk."
She hesitated.
I pursued. "Claire, it's like eleven, most everyone's in bed who would care, everyone else is drunk. I brought one of Mom's bathrobes for you. Look. And it's a nice night. Come on, lets go get some air."
She nodded.
We went slowly, and when we got outside, something in her changed. Her forlorn expression turned tranquil. Getting outside the house was somehow like turning off the engine on a boat—one remembers how peaceful and beautiful the lake really is. I held her waist, and she gingerly put one foot in front of the next. We could hear the night, not the air conditioner and the television. We smelled June. We glanced at television lights in windows, but we admired the stars. I don't think either of us said a word.
We didn't go far, down the block and back. It was almost time for her meds.
Once back in bed and comfortable, I gave Claire her midnight pain killer. I had given up hope regarding any further sexual liaisons, but I was hopeful that our walk made it so that I wouldn't have to steel myself for an hour or so of bitter sadness.
The pain killers were taking effect, and Claire was utterly silent, laying back with her eyes closed. I got up from my chair and made to leave before I heard her speak.
"Stay. Pleeeease."
"Sure."
She smiled and looked me over. "I like you, college boy."
"Thanks."
"But, you were naughty a few nights ago."
I grinned. "So were you."
"I have an excuse. I'm wasted. You're not."
I shrugged.
"Do you want to do it again?" she asked with a devious smile.
"Yeah."
"So do I."
I smiled.
"Let me see that jaycock get hard."
I pulled it out; it dangled.
"I know a way to help it. Give me your finger."
I raised it to her.
"Closer, college boy, I'm going to suck it." I let her.
She enclosed it in her soft lips and I felt the suction, and I felt her tongue gliding on it. Her eyes were closed and she moaned. Then, she started slowly bobbing back and forth along it.
She opened her eyes and looked at my dick, and, yeah, she was helping.
I held my finger there, stunned, feeling my cock grow, and hoping like hell she was going to do that again. But, she didn't. She just watched my cock slowly assume its strange shape.
"Shit," she said once I was full and complete.
"Claire will you do that to my finger again?"
She smiled. "Are you going to jerk it for me?"
I nodded. I grabbed myself and started slowly tugging.
"Give me that finger," she said. I did. She sucked it beautifully and slowly, and then she said, "I've never sucked on one so bendy." Then, she went down on my finger again. She pulled off and said, "I like the taste of this big jaycock." She opened wide and took all of my finger in her mouth, closing her lips around the knuckle and then pulled back slowly. Then, she winked at me.
And, no kidding, I had only been jerking off for about two minutes, and I was cumming.
Claire wasn't naked, so I dirtied up her bedding and clothes.
"Oh, shit, that was sexy, Claire."
"You think so?"
I nodded, panting.
"You don't know what sexy is, college boy. Give me that finger again." I raised it up to her. "But, put some of that hot cum on it first."
She was right: I did not know what sexy was. I scooped a drop of cum off the sheets with my finger, and I raised it to her lips. She put the very tip of her tongue on it. She curled her tongue up and away and a small string formed and grew until it broke when she closed her lips around her tongue. Then, she caressed my fingertip with her lips, coating them in semen. She licked it off and then engulfed my finger. A few seconds later, it emerged, clean and glistening, from her wet mouth.
"Better get me some new bedding, college boy, and a new gown. I think I'd like some new panties, too," she added, winking at me.
I yanked the sheets off the bed, unlatched her brace, and removed her gown. Then, I slipped her panties off and she was there, athletic body on full display.
But, when I returned with her new bedding, she was asleep. I didn't know what license I had, if any, to play with her body while she slept, so I suppressed my urges as best I could. I dressed her, re-braced her, and covered her in fresh sheets and blankets. Then, I left.
***
To pre-empt Mom, Claire and I sent daily text messages to her on Claire's phone, reporting positively on her condition. I phoned and left messages during the day when I knew she would be in court. I never took a call from her until after 9:00pm so that, in her mind, there was no Nurse around.
On Friday morning, I took Claire to the doctor to check on her progress. I sat in the waiting room for some time, and then, I was surprised when a nurse came out and asked me to join Claire.
I walked into the examination room, a bit confused. Claire was sitting on the exam table. She gave me the briefest of looks—raised eyebrows and downcast eyes. The doctor came towards me and reached out to shake my hand.
"Jimmy?" she said, and I shook her hand.
"Right."
"I'm Helen Borst, Claire's doctor."
"Hi."
"Claire tells me that you're her partner."
Shit, Claire! "Uh, Right."
"I want to show you some of the stretches we need her to do to help her back. Claire's going to need your assistance."
Dr. Borst helped Claire, and then had me take over, and some of these stretches, well, they were going to be almost as good as a sponge bath.
When we finished, Dr. Borst said, "Do these with Claire at least once a day, twice is better—in the morning and before bed."
"Gotcha."
"Thank you, Jimmy. Can you excuse us and I'll have Claire back to you in just a few minutes?"
"Yeah, sure." I left.
When I got Claire back in the car, I asked her about this "partner" business.
"You saw the stretches, Jimmy. Do you think she would have let my nephew be my assistant?"
"No."
"Well, there it is."
"What did she say about your back brace?"
"Monday, it comes off."
"Hey. That's cool."
"I know, right?"
"What about the pain meds?"
I felt her looking at me while I drove. She said, "When they run out, that's it. Advil after that. She doesn't want me to get addicted to the stuff."
"Could you?"
"Yeah, I could see it happening. It's strong stuff."
I drove in silence for a few seconds.
"Jimmy, how much is left?"
"Less than ten pills, I'd say."
I wondered about running out. The pills seemed to be the key to unlocking the sex-hungry Claire. Was the end of those pills the end of us together?
"I'll be ready for one after lunch," she said. "But, let's do the stretches first."
***
We were in the den of the basement apartment. I put down a skinny yoga mat that Claire had me pick up on the way home. She laid on it, flat on her back.
She was in her gown, and she had made me slip a pair of shorts over her panties. Her casts rested across her tummy. I was in sweatpants and a tee shirt.
The first stretch involved her hamstrings. Flat on her back, I took one leg at a time. She straightened it out while I held her ankle and applied back pressure just below her knee. Then, together, we raised her extended leg up until she "felt strong pressure."
"Sorry, Jimmy," she said.
"What?"
"Can't really shave my legs like this."
"Forget it, Claire. Your legs are perfect."
She smiled.
Yes, there was stubble. I didn't mind; it's not like I felt like I was stretching a man. This was a very fit, very feminine leg. I adjusted my grip on her knee, lowering my hand just slightly and grasping her thigh.
We did the other leg, and I hazarded glances at her crotch and ass.
The next part of the routine more directly involved her back. I had to help her pull her knees to her chest and then roll back until her lower back lifted off the mat.
On my knees in front of her, she lifted both legs, slightly bent. I put my hands in her knee pits. she pulled and I pushed.
"Slowly, Jimmy. This one can hurt."
As her knees moved toward her chest, Claire's pussy and ass rose up toward my crotch. I glanced down, seeing the perfection of her ass through the shorts and the silky sleek skin of the back of her thighs. I wanted to caress it with my fingertips.
"Okay," she said, "okay, I'm ready."
Then, I rocked her, gently, and her ass rose and fell just a few inches. Claire's eyes were closed, and I knew she was concentrating on the pressure and pain, but she looked like she was fucking, and I began to stiffen. Sweatpants, perhaps, had not been the best idea.
After that, I helped her with a cross-over stretch. She had to stay flat on her back, and I could stay low and in front of her—she couldn't see my erection.
She had one leg straight and I helped her lift and cross over the leg with her other one. When we finished that one, I was in trouble.
She rolled onto her tummy with her arms out to the side. My job was to lift her torso, and I needed to be in front of her. Basically, I would be lifting her up to my jutting boner.
"Up here, Jimmy."
I quickly tucked my cock behind the waistband of my underwear and sweatpants, making sure my shirt was loose over the top. Then, I hesitated before stepping around to her front.
Here was my problem: With my bendy cock, if I stay too long with my erection hidden that way, the elastic tends to start riding down the shaft, exposing more and more of my dick. If I were moving around, it happened even more quickly. So, I risked popping out completely.
Fuck it, I decided. Better to not pop out at all. If she gets pissed, she gets pissed. I lifted my sweatpants high and over my cock, and I looked like I was hiding a big banana under my sweatpants.
I scooted in front of her and put my fingers under her shoulders.
"Ready?"
"Yes. Go."
I lifted, and when her head was level with my crotch, she opened her eyes. She knew.
But, she didn't say a word. We did ten reps, and then shifted to the final stretch.
This one was good on visuals, but not as good for feels. Claire got on her knees and the elbows of her casts. I knelt beside her, and helped her raise and lower her back.
I got in position on her right side, and I put one hand on her back, another on her stomach. She arched up and stopped.
"Jimmy, it might be better if you got behind me. Try it that way."
I scooted behind her.
"Just hold my hips to help me up and down.
I grabbed her hips. Oh, shit. I had her doggystyle. The tent in my pants was just a few inches from her ass.
I held her hips and her back rose and fell, and when it fell, Claire's ass pushed back just a little. The curvature was a sight to behold.
I moved my hips forward, and when she arched down, her ass grazed my cock.
Fuck me.
She rose, and when she fell again, she bumped into it harder.
"Pull it out," she said.
I dropped my pants to my knees. Claire arched up. She inhaled. She arched down, and she exhaled as the crotch of her shorts pushed against the curve at the front of my dick. My cock slid up between her ass cheeks. I grabbed the shaft and put the head firmly against her shorts where I could see the faint outline of her slit. She pushed back against it. I held her hips, and we dry humped.
"Fuck, Claire."
She moaned, and ground her panty and shorts-covered pussy into the head of my cock.
I stopped myself from yanking those shorts and panties down. Instead, I ran my hands softly over her ass.
We panted together. She rested her head on the yoga mat. I slipped my hands under her gown, slid them up her tummy, and ran my fingers across her breasts. They hung down and felt big; I grasped them, feeling her nipples between my fingers.
"Yes," she moaned, "Like that. Keep doing that."
It was her pleasure that set me off, her gasps, her cries.
"Claire. I'm gonna."
"Right there. Do it there. Soak me."
I squeezed her tits and pushed my cock into her crotch. I felt the wetness seeping through. I sensed her labia there, and the tip of my dick between.
"Soak it in cum, college boy," she huffed.
And I did; I let go of her tits, grabbed her waist, and gazed down at the place where the head of my cock pushed against her.
I grunted and pushed hard into her, and then pools of cum formed on her black shorts. It spilled back over the head of my cock, and it slid down her shorts and dripped on the yoga mat.
I kept pushing into her.
"Don't stop. Oh, shit, don't stop," she called.
Her cries grew in intensity, and she dragged her crotch up, down, and over the tip of my cock. She hollered once, then twice, and then she put her fingers her mouth and howled into them, her eyes tightly closed and her eyebrows pinched together.
When she pulled away, her shorts were, indeed, soaked in my cum and her fluids. She laid down on her tummy, breathing deeply.
I fell back, resting my ass on my heels.
***
She dozed off after lunch. I had given her a sponge bath, changed her panties and shorts, and, at her insistence, thrown the medical gown into the garbage can and stretched a tee shirt over her casts. I fed her lunch, gave her the medication—eight pills remained—and then watched her fall asleep.
When I washed her pussy, I couldn't help but notice how my cum had seeped through and began to dry on the tiny hairs beginning to grow.
I went upstairs and ate, thinking about Claire. I concluded that I would rather dry fuck Claire than fuck any of my previous girlfriends. She was that sexy.
I was really looking forward to helping her stretch again that night.
***
Claire asked me to help her stretch an hour after I fed her dinner, nearing 8:00pm. I helped her out of the back brace, and we walked to the den. The mat hadn't been moved, but I cleaned it.
I was wearing a white tee shirt and boxers, a deliberate choice on my part. Claire was in her new shorts and tee shirt.
We went through the regimen, but this time, every exercise was infused with sexual energy. I was hard almost from the beginning, and my cock poked through the open seam in the front of the boxers.
When she rolled onto her stomach and I moved in front of her. She looked at my cock, and then she looked up at me and smiled.
Each time I lifted her up, she put her mouth on my dick. The first time, it was a kiss. The second time, she slowly licked up the bottom of the shaft. On the fifth, she enclosed the head in her lips, and I closed my eyes and groaned. By the tenth, and last, repetition, her head bobbed back and forth. When she let my cock slip out, she said, "Get behind me."
So, we began her last exercise. I got in position and put my hands under her stomach. I had pushed my boxers against my abdomen so that my cock fully extended out. A few inches separated it and Claire's perfect, curvy ass.
"Ready?" she asked.
"Yeah."
She arched her back up, and I prepared myself to, once again, feel her pussy grind into me through her shorts.
"Jimmy!" I turned to the apartment door. Mom stood there, her jaw agape. "What on earth are you doing?"
I hid myself away faster than lightning, my face already turning bright red, but Claire stunned me.
"Beth! You're back. Jimmy's helping me stretch, aren't you, kiddo?"
I mumbled something, too amazed by Claire's presence of mind—her sheer steel in such a compromising situation. Mom didn't say a word.
Claire saw the look on Mom's face. "Beth? What's wrong?"
"Jimmy, go upstairs so Claire and I can talk," she said.
"Right." As I stood, I pulled my shirt over myself and tried not to look at her as I passed. Even so, I felt the glare. She had to have seen just how utterly mortified I was.
I ran up the stairs, and then I went straight into our living room.
It had a floor vent. The same vent happened to vent down into the apartment's den. I put my ear up to it. I missed the first part of the conversation.
"Beth, she's gone for the day. So, I asked Jimmy to help," I heard Claire say.
Mom didn't respond.
"Beth, what the hell is wrong?"
"Claire, I come downstairs to see how you're doing, and I see you half naked..."
"I'm not half naked!"
"...and your on your hands and knees. Jimmy is right behind you, his hands are underneath you, and..."
"That's what he's supposed to do. I told him to do that."
"..and his penis is sticking out of his boxers..."
"Oh."
"...and he's got a giant erection."
"Oh, no. Oh, my goodness."
"Yes!"
"Beth, I had no idea." There it was. I had been thrown under the bus. Still, I realized, what the hell else is she going to say? Damn, I was not looking forward to my conversation with Mom.
"What the hell do you expect, Claire? He's 19 years old."
"I'm so sorry. Beth, it's my fault."
"No. It's mine for letting you talk me into a part time nurse. When does she come back?"
"Monday morning."
"Monday! You mean, Jimmy was going to have to take care of you all weekend?"
"I can do almost everything myself, now, Beth."
"Well, that's it. Jimmy is out. I'm going to help you this weekend."
Claire didn't respond.
"Oh, shit, Claire! What the hell do I say to him—he's going to be so ashamed!"
"Beth, don't tell him that I know. Spare him that. Then he can act normal around me."
Mom hesitated. Then, she said, "You're right. I won't tell him you know." I heard a huge sigh, and she yelled, "Fuck!"
"Beth, are you able to laugh about something?"
"No."
"You just said your son had a giant erection."
"Oh, shit, I know," she said, and there was a hint of mirth in her voice. Claire began to laugh, and Mom joined. "Let me help you back to bed."
I got up, thinking fast. I needed to look helpful and busy. I walked to the garage and grabbed Mom's bags. I hauled them upstairs and put them in her room.
A few minutes later, Mom knocked on the door of my room.
"Come in."
She entered, and I could tell she was uncomfortable.
"Mom, can I talk first?"
She sighed. "Go ahead, Jimmy."
"I'm sorry about...what you saw. It wasn't like that—like what you might think. I was wearing boxers, and it just happened. I wasn't trying to...to take advantage of Claire—Aunt Claire."
Mom eyed me and hesitated, and then her face washed over with calm. "I know how things are with young men, Jimmy, and how sometimes your body may not be entirely in your control. But, don't tell me it just happened to be sticking all the way out your boxers. You helped it out, didn't you?"
She was an attorney, damn it. "Yes, but it was all cramped up in there. I was going to put it away—hide it."
"What if she had seen it, Jimmy? What would you have done?"
"She doesn't know?"
Mom shook her head.
"Thanks, Mom."
She nodded. "You haven't answered my question."
"I don't know what I would have done."
"She's your Aunt. Think about it. Would you ever again feel like you could have a normal conversation with her?"
"No." I donned my most sheepish expression and posture when I said it.
Mom sighed, "I expect you to make better decisions."
"I know."
"I'm going to take care of Claire this weekend; consider yourself free to be with your friends."
"Thanks, Mom."
She smiled; it was forced.
"Hey, Mom?"
She lifted her chin.
"I'm glad your back."
She smiled, forced again.
"How'd it go?" I asked.
"Good. Let's talk later, okay?"
"Right."
She walked to the door and then stopped. She turned back to me, one hand resting on the door jamb. "Jimmy, what I saw—before—is that...that's okay, right? You're normal?"
"What?'
She shook her head. "Forget it." Then, she left.
I knew what she was asking about. I just wanted to make her say it.
Sleep didn't come easily. I kept thinking about Claire. Was it over? I didn't know, but what was very clear to me was that Mom did not want me anywhere near Claire for the weekend, and maybe longer. I wondered if Claire was now looking at our little fling through a new set of eyes. She had sucked her nephew's cock; she'd let him hump her and cum on her shorts, right up against her pussy. Did she see that, now, as embarrassing or even revolting?
And what if my Mom had walked in a minute earlier and seen Claire's mouth on my dick?
What kind of coolness under fire did Claire have, to be caught in such a compromising scenario and come out clean by pleading ignorance? Any normal person, surprised as we had been, would have given away their guilt—a shocked yell, a flinch, something. Not Claire.
And my Mom—she'd had some kind of reaction to seeing my cock. What the fuck was that about?
***
On a hunch, the next day, when Mom was downstairs, I took her phone and unlocked it—I knew her usual codes and passwords. I checked her history on Safari. She had been looking up curved penises on medical sites. She'd even done an image search. Uh, shit. I closed those tabs.
What took me aback, however, was the last search: "sex with curved penis." She had gone to some women's sexual health forum, and I scrolled down it, finding several anecdotes from ladies extolling the pleasures derivable from equipment like mine. Geez, Mom.
I guess she wanted to make sure it wasn't a medical or sexual problem for me.
***
On Sunday afternoon, Mom called me downstairs. "Jimmy, I've got a strategy call in a few minutes. Can you hang out with Claire? Take her for a walk or something. I'll be an hour or so."
"Let's walk," Claire said, cheerfully, when I asked her if she wanted to do anything.
She got up by herself and we left out the basement door. Neither of us spoke until we hit the sidewalk.
She started. "Jimmy, I'm so sorry that I couldn't cover for you on Friday."
"Forget it, Claire. Everything's fine between Mom and me. Shit, you had no choice." She didn't say anything. "Actually, I kind of thought you were amazing."
She smiled.
"How's Mom been for you?" I asked.
"She's fine. Not as much fun as you."
We looked at each other. I grinned. "She still in the dark about the nurses?"
Claire nodded.
"How about you? You look like you're doing great."
She sighed. "Jimmy, my last good pill is tonight. After that, it's Advil."
"The pain? Still bad?"
"Not really."
"Then, what?"
"I think I'm addicted. I get nervous just thinking about not having any more."
"Will it be bad?"
"I've been able to use my tablet a little, so I looked it up, and yes, it's going to suck for a couple days."
"I'm here for you."
"Are you? Really?"
"Sure."
"I may turn into a bitch."
"We'll get through."
"Okay," she said, some relief in her voice.
We turned around and started back for home, and she took my hand.
"What did Mom say about me helping you?"
"We got in a fight about night nurses. I refused to have one. She was pissed. Told me not to have you help with anything other than eating. Told me to call her if something came up. Said she was going to have you sleep upstairs."
"Yeah?"
"Then, she asked me about curvy penises."
I stopped. "Shut up. No, she didn't."
Claire smiled, "I shit you not."
I dropped her hand, titled my head back, and groaned, "Fuck."
"She explained what she saw and asked me if I had ever—you know—had one before."
"What did you say?"
"I told her yes—yours."
"Claire."
"Yeah, no. I didn't say that."
I started walking again in silence.
"Jimmy, it seemed like she just wanted to make sure it was normal—or, not normal—what you have is not normal. But, she wanted to make sure you were okay, sexually. Don't worry about it."
"Right. Shit." After a few seconds, I asked her if she thought we were still okay.
She smiled, "We're good, college boy."
We held hands all the way back home. Bent & Broken Ch. 03
Unforeseen trauma strikes; the relationship is tested.
Author's Note: Thanks to the editor, shygirlwhore.
*
Mom caught a late flight out to D.C. that night. She had seen to everything before she left: food, bath, fresh clothes, brushed hair, stretching—all of it. Claire was set, and I had little to do. So, after Mom took off, we watched tv in the den.
Midnight surprised us. Claire asked for her final good pain pill. I gave it to her. After she took it, she asked me if I would give her a back scratch.
She laid on the couch, and I knelt beside her. I started on the outside of her shirt, but she put a stop to that almost immediately.
"Under the shirt, college boy."
I hiked her shirt up to about breast level, and then I put my hands on her warm skin, scratching lightly in wide circles.
"That feels so nice."
I dragged my fingernails lightly up, under her shirt and to her neck, and then over her shoulders. I moved down the the crevasse of her spine and slid my fingers just under the waistband of her shorts and scratched back and forth there, just where the rise of her ass started.
Her lips pursed into a little smile. "You can pull them down," she offered.
I accepted, and I tugged her shorts and panties down and over the bubble of her ass. I leaned down and kissed it. Claire inhaled, and then I resumed, scratching all over her back and ass.
After a few minutes, she said, "Take off your clothes."
Without hesitation, I stripped naked.
"And mine." I pulled her bottoms down and off. Helping her up, I slipped her tee shirt over her head and the sleeves over her casts. She rolled over on her back, resting her arms across her stomach.
I softy kneaded her breasts, dragging my thumbs up the underside and then gently pinching the nipples between the tips of my thumbs and the sides of my index fingers.
She looked over at my cock, saw my arousal, and said, "Rub it all over my body. Everywhere. I just want to feel it on every part of me." Then, she closed her eyes.
I moved down to her feet, grabbed myself, and did as she commanded. I pressed it against the soles of her feet, the insteps, and the balls. I poked at each of her toes and then slid it sideways down the top of her foot to her ankle. I didn't miss a square inch, and I was almost continually repositioning my body to make it work.
When I reached her upper thighs, I climbed over her, held myself up with one hand, and dragged my cock through the black line where her legs met. At the top, the head of my cock butted into her pussy, and I let it slide through the slit and over her little nub.
Claire said, "Ooh. That's nice."
I did it again.
A minute or so later, I was dabbing and nudging her breast and nipples. I used the shaft to lift her tit until it gave way and my cock rolled over the crest and down the slope toward her upper chest. I spent a lot of time letting her rigid nipple tickle the sensitive spot under the tip. I had no idea how good that could feel. This was not a sexual act I had ever envisioned.
I didn't put myself on her casts, of course, but I put my dick on her fingers. She curled her fingers around the shaft and I rocked gently through them. I didn't want to stop, but looking at her lips, I wanted to move on.
There were some totally bizarre aspects of this: her knees, her bellybutton, her nose, eyes and ears, for crying out loud. Her hair and forehead, too. Other places were unexpectedly sexy: her neck. Shit, that was soft. Her cheeks and chin.
And then I reached her lips. I placed the tip on them, and I traced around like I was putting lipstick on her. She opened her mouth, and I let the tip in. She closed her soft lips around it, and inside her mouth, Claire's tongue lapped against it.
I sighed and tipped my head back. "Oh, fuck, Claire."
She kissed free of it, and then she rolled over on the couch. "Do the back," she said.
Looking up and down the length of her, I decided to save the middle for last. I started on her heels. Not a word was spoken until I was essentially giving her a back rub with my cock.
"I can't suck it normally," she said.
"Huh?"
"The bend. It pushes up, but my mouth and throat go down. I can only get a little bit."
"Oh," I said, dragging my dick over the muscles on her shoulder blades. "You know, there's a better way. It's just that..."
"I know. I've been thinking about it. Sixty-nine style is the way. Upside down," she concluded.
"Right."
I began to move down to her ass, but she said, "Don't forget my head and hair."
When I pushed my dick across her head, her hair felt so silky that I couldn't resist an idea: I took a wad of it and wrapped it around the shaft, and then I tugged myself a few times.
"Creative," she mumbled.
I laughed.
I let her hair go, and moved down to her ass. I started on her cheeks, lightly running the shaft over each raised globe. After this, I climbed over her, and as on her front, I slid the tip between her thighs, finding, where everything came together, the silky softness of her crease. I felt wetness there, and Claire took in a quick breath.
Moving higher over her, I pushed myself down into the top of the crevasse between her two beautiful ass cheeks. I slid down, slowly, crossing over the rough wrinkles of her little hole. Finally, I held the tip against her, nestled between the soft, warm lips of her pussy. She pushed ever so slightly back, and the tip began disappearing inside her.
But, she stopped.
I started again between her thighs and worked my way back up to her wetness, and I held it there, offering it to her. She dipped me inside again, gasped, and let me continue up. When I passed over her asshole, I held it there, and I rubbed circles around it with the fat mushroom of the tip, spreading the wetness it had accumulated below.
"That is so naughty, college boy," she whispered.
I let my cock flip up and out. Then, I lowered my body just slightly onto her thighs. I pushed my length between her cheeks, and I gently rode, back and forth, between them.
After a half minute, I swung off her and knelt beside the couch. "You have the sexiest body I have ever seen, Claire."
"I'm impressed."
"What?"
"No guy—no guy I've ever known—would have resisted pushing in."
"I wanted to."
"But, you didn't. That's my point."
"Did you want me to?"
"No...and yes," she said, and then she smiled and spoke more firmly, "No."
"Okay. Good, I guess."
"It is good. I need to show my appreciation."
"Claire, you don't..."
"Shut up," she ordered. Then, she flipped over on her back. "Put me on the floor."
I carried her and laid her down on the yoga mat.
"I can't be on top. Let's do this on our sides," she said, rolling on her right side. "Give me that jaycock."
I laid on my right side across from her, my cock at the level of her face. I scooted my body forward, and Claire raised one of her legs. Looking at her pussy, a hunger boiled up inside me. I wanted it. I craved it—the smell, the taste, the feel. I'd always thought "eating pussy" was a bit of a strange phrase. Not now.
"Closer," Claire said, "and lower."
I made the proper adjustments.
"Hold it for me."
I grabbed myself with my arm on the floor, and I held my cock.
She looked down at me. "Watch me, and when you're ready, you can do me if you want, but you don't have to."
Fuck that. I was going to devour that pussy, but I nodded and watched.
She leaned forward and, eyes closed, kissed my cock. Then, she rubbed her cheek on it and drew her lips over the tip. She kissed the tip, and then kissed and sucked down the side. She licked underneath.
Everything about her blowjob was infused with slow passion. If my head had been down where my cock was, we'd have been making out. And that was just it: she was making out with my dick.
I couldn't stop watching. There was a pussy a few inches from my face, and I didn't even know or care anymore.
My previous girlfriends had sucked me and, while certainly some of them had technique, few had attitude. Claire had attitude, and that, it seemed to me then, trumps technique.
She did it like she wanted to. She did it like she cared. She did it like I was doing her the favor. And, she wasn't like some porn star or hooker—it wasn't an act or a show. No. My cock was her lover.
When her lips encased the head, I felt her tongue swirl circles around it in one direction, and then stop and reverse.
I let go of my cock. Claire opened wide and craned her neck forward. I watched my dick disappear inside of her. My view was under her gaping jaw. Normally, the bend would almost immediately push up against the roof of the mouth, and a girl could take three, maybe four inches before both of us felt discomfort.
In the reverse position, though, the head of my cock pressed down on the tongue as it inched further into the mouth, and then it curved almost perfectly down into the throat—assuming the girls's gag reflect could be overcome.
Claire didn't have that problem, and her lips came together around my shaft at a depth where, frankly, no one had ever been. When I felt it, and I saw how much of it she had, I grunted, "Fuck me."
The sensation of having so much of me taken inside her mouth and down her throat—it filled me with power, a kind of energy surge. I felt strong. I felt like a fucking warrior prince.
Right. I know. Sounds stupid, but those who've been there—they know the feeling.
And it was then that I remembered: there's a pussy, right there. I wanted it. I reached out and took her ass in my hand. I brought my face between her legs and felt the heat, as if her pussy were an idling engine. I put my nose right up against it and inhaled. I savored the aroma.
Then, I let my tongue explore it—every tuck and fold of it. I sucked her clit into my mouth and flicked my tongue over it. Whatever she tasted like, I wanted more. Whatever she smelled like—and my nose hovered over the most intimate parts of her, the essence of her body—electrified me.
She moaned right into my cock, and I felt it in my balls and in my tummy, the vibrations of it. Claire was holding deep for a good ten seconds, and then twisting her head as she rose up, taking a quick breath, and then descending and holding. When she would hit her depth, her lips flexed and relaxed on the shaft, gathering and releasing, and her tongue pushed and slid, side to side.
I grunted into her pussy, she moaned into my dick. We had hit a place where, in a sixty-nine, both of us were feeling so good that neither of us could do our fucking job all that well anymore. So, she just took about half of me down and held there, breathing, moaning, and swallowing. I just pinched her clit between my lips and tongue, and I grunted into it.
Whatever the fuck we were doing, it worked. I came and she came. Her legs trembled and clenched my face into her. Her moans into my cock shot up an octave. My grunts into her clit turned into a guttural roar. I felt her draw up and swallow my semen as it flowed out. I gripped tight on her ass as she arched and twisted.
Then we relented and relaxed. We rolled onto our backs, and she began to laugh. I did, too.
"Amazing," she huffed.
"Unreal," I added, gasping and chuckling.
When we caught our breaths, she said, "Promise me, college boy, that we will do that again."
***
It got bad for Claire by mid-morning the next day. Completely out of the powerful pain killers and with no hope of renewing the prescription, I gave her Advil with breakfast and she was pale and strangely quiet. She didn't eat very well.
I helped her out of her back brace for the last time. She didn't seem to care. We hung out in the den, but she didn't want to do any stretches. She just wanted to lay on the couch and watch television.
First, she got cold. I covered her in a blanket. Not long after, she wanted two blankets. Later, I set up an electric heating pat and slid it underneath her. She began to perspire.
I brought her water and arranged it so that she could lean toward the coffee table and sip it from a straw. She took a few drinks, and then just laid back and began whispering, "Fuck this."
And she got louder.
I suggested she take a long, hot bath. She didn't respond, but got up and walked toward the bathroom. I followed her, but she turned around and said, "Leave me alone, Jimmy."
"Claire, your casts. I can help..."
"Fuck off, Jimmy! I can do it myself."
So, this is what breaking an addiction is like, I guess. I shrugged and left.
Claire couldn't rest and sleep. She either had the chills or was overheating. She wouldn't eat. She hated my fucking guts.
"I'm going to tell Beth. I'm going to tell your fucking Mom."
"Tell her what?"
"Tell her what you've been doing to me."
I stared at her.
"Taking advantage of me, stupid shit."
"Claire, we..."
Her voice rose. "Your own Aunt? I'm laying here injured and you're practically raping me. It's sexual assault, at least, what you've done."
Silence, I found, worked better than arguing with her in this state.
"Jerking off on me when I can't even use my arms to protect myself. Making me suck your cock! How sick are you! It's fucking disgusting! Your Mom is my fucking sister! Get the fuck away from me, rapist bastard!"
I left the room, but she kept howling, said she was going to call the cops. She screamed that I tried to rape her ass, called me a pervert. The last things I heard—before I pulled the landline phone of the hook—was that I was going to spend the rest of my life in jail getting ass raped.
The bargaining began that first night, and it lasted some time. She wanted alcohol.
She was back in bed. "Just one drink, Jimmy. Go look in Beth's liquor cabinet."
"I'll bring you some fresh water, Claire."
"No! I don't want water; it's not going to help me. I need something stronger, Jimmy. Please."
"We can't trade one addiction for another."
"Bring me a fucking drink!" she roared.
"No."
She shifted tone and tactics. "We'll both have one, Jimmy, and then we can fuck."
I stared at her.
She continued, "Don't you want to fuck, Jimmy? Come on, let's do it." She spread her legs gyrated her hips. "Let's get drunk and screw," she offered, smiling deviously.
I was tempted. Fucking the shit out of her just might make up for how bitchy she'd been all day, but I mastered myself. "No."
She flipped, called me every name in the book, called me a "fucking queer faggot." I went to the den until she shut up.
Then, I started hearing crashes. Did she fall? I ran over, and Claire was tearing apart her room. Anything she could kick or reach with her casts, she knocked on the floor. When she saw me, she shrieked away, trashing the place. After, when she'd spent her energy, she sank to the floor in a heap and bawled.
"It's too hard. I can't do it, Jimmy. I can't."
I lifted her into bed, and then, miraculously, she fell asleep.
Day two wasn't worse for me, but it was definitely worse for her. She looked like she was going to die—pale, sweat pouring off her, shivering. Nothing I did for her brought her any comfort.
When it was time for her Advil, she insisted on more. I wouldn't give her more than four at a time, and she freaked on me again. The swear words she could unload! The names she conjured up for me! Some of my favorites: I was a "runny little cunt," a "shit sucking bastard," and a "fucking puke-dick faggot."
The bargaining for alcohol stepped up a level. Claire told me that if I got her a drink, she would suck my cock. When I refused, she offered her mouth to me anytime I wanted it. I asked, "Even after you get out of your casts?"
She said, "For the rest of your life, I'll suck your dick."
I smiled at the idea, and she misinterpreted. She thought I was really considering it.
She cooed, "Take it out." She licked her lips. "Climb on this bed and you can just fuck my face."
"No, Claire. No alcohol."
"Think of it, Jimmy: your Mom's sister will be your cum slave. You get an urge, you come to me, and I suck that hot sticky cum right out of you."
Her voice in that moment—so sexy.
She continued, "Right now, we can start. Don't you feel it, Jimmy? Down there? All that boy cum, how heavy your balls are with it, and you need someplace to put it." She licked her lips and moaned.
When a part of my mind suggested I—just once—take her up on the offer, I walked out of the room. Her curses followed me.
Returning an hour or so later, the whole room reeked. She had pissed herself. I didn't know if it was out of revenge or out of her unimaginable struggle to beat the addiction. She was almost comatose.
I spent the next hour cleaning up her and the mess; she didn't utter a noise. She was a rag doll.
On Wednesday, she was done cursing at me, but she did make one final bid for alcohol.
It was the early afternoon. I had just finished helping her dress after a long, hot shower. She hadn't said much of anything all morning. I put her in bed and she asked me for a fresh cup of ice water. She was polite and almost content, it seemed. "Come back in about five minutes," she added. "I need some time to be alone."
I left. While I was filling the cup, I heard something downstairs. She was moving around. I shut off the water and listened. Nothing sounded alarming.
I waited a few more minutes, and then I took the cup down to her. I walked into her bedroom and stopped, stunned.
Claire was completely naked. She was bent over the bed, her casts sprawled to the sides. Her legs were spread and her ass—that athletic, beautiful ass—was hanging over the edge.
There was an opened little jar of vaseline on her nightstand, and as I slowly entered the room, I saw what she had done, and I wondered how in the hell she had done it with two casts on.
She had, somehow, lubricated herself—her ass—with the vaseline, and laid there on the edge of the bed, waiting for me.
So this, I thought, was her ultimate bargaining chip. Having a few social drinks and fucking hadn't worked. Getting her one drink and being my official cocksucker for life didn't work.
"Claire," I said, and it was almost a whisper.
She didn't say anything; she slowly gyrated her hips and began to moan.
It was just so fucking sad to me, but my cock was halfway to hard, and I couldn't take my eyes off her body.
"Oh, fuck, that cock feels so good in my ass," she whispered. Her ass moved in little circles.
In seconds, my dick was a lead pipe. It felt abnormally heavy, and it needed to get stuck somewhere.
"Jimmy, please cum in my little asshole." Then she started groaning and yelling in mock pleasure.
She stopped and turned to me. "When you're done, I want you to go to the store and pick me up some cigarettes, that's all. Menthols." She tilted her head just a little, smiling and shaking her head. "I smoke sometimes, Jimmy. It's not like you'd be getting me addicted to something new."
I couldn't move. She looked down and saw my hardness. "What are you waiting for, Jimmy? The vaseline is on the table. Just put a little bit on it and come fuck this ass."
She turned back and restarted her little sex show. I watched, thinking hard.
Cigarettes was all she wanted? Wouldn't be so bad, some smokes. Might take the edge off her and give me some peace. I could pick those up in five minutes. I walked closer to her, right behind her, and I grabbed her ass.
She groaned.
I spread her cheeks and saw the glistening coat of lubricant there. Again, I wondered how the fuck she did that. It was a feat.
Then, I knew.
If she can strip naked, get the vaseline, and put it on herself—if she's got the will to do that—then she can do just about anything. I leave for five minutes; she raids the liquor cabinet.
I backed away.
"Jimmy? I'm waiting."
She turned to me, and I shook my head.
"Jimmy, please fuck my ass."
I backed up to the doorway.
"Please, Jimmy! I need a smoke. It's all I want."
I shook my head.
"Jimmy!" It was horror and fear in her voice, and the sound wavered and cracked.
She screamed and buried her face in the mattress. She screamed how it wasn't fair. She screamed how I didn't care about her and how no one did. She cried uncontrollably, and it was maybe the saddest thing I ever saw—Claire, completely undressed and spread out against the bed with her ass in the air, bawling like a child, wailing against her suffering.
She kept saying my name and crying, shrieking "Jimmy!" again and again. It was the one word that carried her through this horrific grief. She shook and pounded the bed with her arms.
Then, she just fell back on the floor with a crash.
I went to her, caressed her back, and then I picked her up and carried her to the bathroom. With a soapy washcloth, I cleaned her up. She didn't say a word. I only heard the occasional sniffle.
After, I cleaned her face, dressed her, and brushed her hair.
Then, I helped her up and took her for a walk. The sun presided over us, warm and bright. I held her hand. By the time we turned back, Claire walked with some energy. Her face flushed with color.
When we got home, I put her on the yoga mat and stretched her. There was nothing sexual. I helped her more at first, but by the end, she had taken control.
I got her a fresh cup of ice water, wiped down her face, and set her up on the couch. We watched HGTV in silence.
When she looked bored, I sat her up and gave her her tablet. She was getting much better at managing it herself, and I watched her check some social media sites. I screwed around on my phone; she read and sent some emails.
I fed her dinner, and she fell asleep early.
On Thursday morning, when I walked into her room, I knew we were through it. The tranquility of her expression told me so.
She didn't smile and didn't talk. I fed her and helped her where I could.
She went for a walk by herself. I heard her shower by herself.
After lunch, she finally spoke. "Jimmy, my legs are getting too itchy. I need you to shave them for me. Do you think you can?"
I nodded. "Sure."
We did it in the tub. When I got the hang of it, she laid back with her eyes closed. When I finished both legs, she told me to shave her vagina.
She'd said "vagina." That was different.
She had to give me some guidance, and none of the act was tinted with sexual excitement. I really felt like a nurse. I finished the job and she thanked me.
My cock had been like stone, but she hadn't noticed—or if she had, she hadn't cared.
That afternoon, she called for me from the apartment den. I came down. She was sitting on the couch with her tablet in her lap.
"Jimmy, a friend is coming to see me this weekend. Flying in Friday night and flying home Sunday."
"Okay."
"Is your Mom coming back?"
"Last time we spoke, no."
She nodded. "Well, then it looks like you're off the hook. My friend wants to help take care of things."
"Really?"
"He's a doctor. He knows what he's doing."
He. He? "Is he your boyfriend or something?"
"We've dated. On and off. Yes, I suppose."
"You've been injured like this for almost two weeks and your boyfriend—a doctor—just now decides to come and visit?"
"Jimmy, don't...look, he's got a ton of patients. It's a private practice. He can't just up and leave whenever he feels like it."
I considered this and said, "Claire, he's got a private practice. That means he can—he can—just up and leave whenever he feels like it. That's the reason why you start a private practice, isn't it? To be your own boss?"
"Jimmy, don't be jealous."
"I'm not jealous, Claire. I'm not."
"It's sweet of you, but..."
"Claire," I said, directly and simply, "I understand our situation, and this isn't some boy crush jealousy I'm feeling. I know I'm never going to date you. I know there's zero future for us. Zero. I get it."
"Then what the fuck is your problem? Go have fun with your friends."
I forced a smile. "Okay. Call me if you need anything." I turned and left.
I went up to my room, emptied my book shelf and dragged it downstairs and into the garage. I found my old baseball bat, and I annihilated the bookshelf.
Fuck, it felt good. I didn't curse or scream. I grunted and swung that bat, and I saw chips of particle board and laminate wood smash and fly all over the garage.
I was panting when I finished. There wasn't a hunk of shelf bigger than a book left intact. I picked up the pieces, swept up the rest, and put it all in the dumpster.
Yeah, I was jealous. More than that, though, I was angry. This felt like a betrayal. I was the fucking one who sacrificed these two weeks of my summer for her. I fed her, dressed her, cleaned her up. I saw her through her fucking addiction and put up with all the threats and the name calling and the bullshit. I'd resisted opportunities to completely take advantage of her.
I wished I'd fucked her ass. Right then, fuck, I wished it. Oh, what I would have done to that ass.
She'd had me shave her pussy. What? To help her get ready for her boyfriend's visit?
Fucking bitch.
And there she was, downstairs, probably shaking her head. Oh, I feel bad for the kid, she was probably thinking. He had a little crush on me. So sweet.
Fuck you, Claire. Fuck you.
***
I did my job for her dutifully that evening and the next morning. We didn't talk unless we had to.
She tried to bring it up once, asking, "Jimmy, will you please talk to me? Tell me why you're so upset."
"I'm not upset Claire. I'm fine." I crinkled my face into a smile. "Let's finish eating."
Before I left her room for the last time, I asked her if she needed anything else before he came.
"No. Thanks, Jimmy."
"Are you sure? I mean, if you need me to help shave your pussy again, so that it's totally, totally ready for your boyfriend, just let me know."
I left before she could respond.
I spoke to my Mom late in the afternoon. She was staying in D.C. for the weekend.
I also spoke to a girl who graduated with me. Brie Barton. She hadn't heard from me in over a year. I asked her on a date.
She was a skinny thing with no tits and no ass, but she had a cute, if beaten down, face. And she put out. A lot.
At some point, Claire's boyfriend arrived. I wasn't around to greet him.
I took Brie to a nice dinner, and she wanted to play putt-putt, which was weird, but I took her to a place. I brought her home at around 10:30, and we started to get drunk on Mom's liquor.
"Who's downstairs?" she asked. We could hear muffled voices and movement.
"My aunt and her boyfriend. Forget about them."
I took Brie by the hand and let her into the living room. I laid a blanket on the floor beside, but not covering the vent where I had eavesdropped on Mom's conversation with Claire after I'd been caught with my cock out. Yes, I could hear everything down there, but I didn't care about that.
I knew they could hear everything up here.
I made out with Brie on the floor. She was not sexy. Not like Claire. She was sufficient to get me hard, and she marveled at my cock when she pulled it out.
She sucked me, and she was quick to solve the bend problem. She was good, but I wasn't interested in getting blown.
I lifted her off me, laid her on the blanket, and fucked her. Success.
"Ow, fuck!" she squealed. "Go slow, Jimmy!" Her voice resonated, and she wasn't quiet.
Within about four full strokes, she got real loud. She liked saying "Uh-huh" and "Uh-hmm." It was actually really fucking annoying. Made me fuck her harder.
She wailed and cried out when she came, and I knew downstairs they were getting a fucking earful.
I didn't cum.
Brie laid there, recovering, and I sat against the sofa.
Things were quiet in the house. Brie crawled over to me and began to suck on my dick. I let her. I sat up on my knees.
She stopped. "Lay down so we can sixty-nine," she suggested.
"No, come here," I said. She didn't go where I wanted. "No, keep sucking, but put your ass over here." I gestured to my side.
She did, and I lifted her upside down. Her pussy was in my face, and I gave it a few hesitant licks. Brie's upside down blowjob was pretty fucking good.
We were in the center of the living room carpet when I saw two shadows emerge, silently, in the kitchen. The first was tall. The second was Claire. I could see the silhouettes of her casts. She looked across the kitchen into the living room. We were illuminated by one lamp, and Claire's form, by the light from the entryway hall.
I said, "Brie, I'm going to cum. Swallow it."
The shadows vanished into the entryway.
I wasn't going to cum. I just wanted Claire to hear me. I put Brie back down.
"I thought you were gonna," she complained.
"I was getting tired. Look, just suck the tip and jerk me."
She did, and it worked.
Brie was staying at her parent's and, thankfully, refused the offer to stay the night. I invited her out the next night. Dinner and a movie? She nodded.
On Saturday night, I had to put things off. Claire and Doctor Boyfriend had gone somewhere. I maneuvered around Brie's advances until after 11:00. They came in and met us in the kitchen.
"Brie, this is my Aunt Claire. Claire, Brie." They hugged.
Claire said, "Brie, Jimmy, this is Dr. Hannnah."
I nodded. "Dr. Hannah."
He smiled. "Call me Guy."
"Nice to meet you, Guy." We shook hands.
They left, but not before Claire and I exchanged a look. Hers said, "Really, Jimmy?" Mine said, "Eat it, Claire."
I took Brie into the living room, and I fucked her. Then, I fucked her ass.
It was perfect. She came louder than an air horn when I fucked her cunt. When I put it in her ass, she was noisy, but most of it was obviously acting—she knew what to say to a guy to get him to cum and get it over with: "Do it, Jimmy! Fuck my ass!" "I love that big dick in my asshole!" "Cum in me, Jimmy!"
I did. She went home and I cleaned up.
Eat it, Claire.
I came downstairs after midnight. Dr. Guy was in the kitchen, drinking a beer.
"Hey, hope you don't mind me hanging out. Claire's asleep."
"You're fine."
"Where's your girlfriend?" he asked.
"Oh, no. I just fuck her. She left."
He laughed. "To be in college again." He shook his head.
"How's Claire?"
"Definitely not herself," he said, and then he took a sip and asked, "Say, Jimmy? Ask a favor of you?"
"What?"
"The living room, you know, is right over the apartment downstairs. I don't mean to embarrass you or anything, but we can pretty much hear everything that happens in that room."
"Oh, sorry about that."
"No. No. It's just, if you guys are going to do that, could you take it upstairs? We'd really appreciate it."
"She's not coming back."
"Oh, well, anyways. Thanks, Jimmy."
"Guy, mind if I ask you something?"
"No, sure, go ahead."
"Did we screw up you and Claire? I'd hate to think our noises ruined your chances."
"Oh! No. Claire isn't up for anything like that, yet."
"Good. Don't want to be a cock blocker."
He laughed. "No, no. You didn't."
I grabbed my phone off the counter and went back to bed. Bent & Broken Ch. 04
Conclusion. His aunt resists, but he's no quitter.
Author's Note: Thanks to all the readers who've had to be very patient with Jimmy and Claire. I hope this conclusion to their story doesn't disappoint. Finally, let me say thanks, again, to shygirlwhore, the editor, for her hard work and encouragement.
*
Claire's boyfriend, Guy, left for the airport on Sunday afternoon. I didn't go downstairs until she texted me. She was sitting on the couch.
"What's up, Claire?"
"Let's talk, kid."
"Kid, huh? I'll see you at dinner." I walked away.
"Jimmy! Come back! I'm sorry!"
I stopped and went back. "Claire, you don't need to apologize. I'm not asking you to. I'm done. I'm moving forward."
"I know. We heard you. For two nights. Shit, we saw you on Friday night."
"I didn't ask you to look or listen. She was noisy, not me."
"You were pissed and you planned it, Jimmy. Admit it."
"So what if I did? I can't fuck a girl in my own house? I need your fucking permission?"
"I don't care about the girl. I care about how you feel."
"When it's convenient for you, maybe."
"Say what you want to say, Jimmy. Tell me how you feel."
I stopped, swallowed, and stepped toward her. "I'm so fucking pissed off at you, Claire. You know all the shit I've put up with—and, look, I don't want to take anything away from what you've suffered here. I know. You've been through hell. It's awful and tragic what happened. But, you just shit on me, just totally shit all over me when you invited your boyfriend over the second we got through your addiction together. And then, having me shave your pussy? Help you primp yourself for him? That was the lowest fucking move of all."
She didn't say anything.
"So, yeah, I planned it. I found the biggest whore in town, wined her and diner her and fucked her right over your head. And I was glad she was so fucking annoyingly loud. And I was thrilled when you got to see her sucking my dick. And I did it again on Saturday night, just to rub it in your fucking face."
"You didn't just fuck her Saturday night. We heard you two having anal sex up there."
"Right, and every second of it, I was wishing it was you. If I could go back in time, Claire. Oh, how I fucking regret it now. You, sprawled out across your bed, begging me to fuck your ass. For a lousy cigarette, too. I should have. I wish I did it. I can't believe how stupid I was not to."
She nodded.
"And don't, Claire, don't condescend. Don't play like I'm some fucking idiot little boy. Was I jealous? Sure. Who wouldn't be? You're beautiful and sexy and fun and everything a man could want. It was more than jealousy. Way more. You shit on me. It was humiliation is what is was."
"You're right. About almost everything. Will you listen?"
I tilted up my head: go.
"When you shaved me, I had no idea he was coming. I didn't lie to you. It was itching me like crazy."
I shrugged. "How does that explain how cold you were to me then? You didn't say a fucking word to me for like, a day."
"I was embarrassed, Jimmy. I had called you names, screamed at you, threatened you. I had tempted you in a way that I will never be able to forget—a way that will haunt me for the rest of my life. I was cruel and cunning and I threw my body at you like a prostitute. All for a drink. What do I say to the person who withstood all that and never left my side? You were my hero. I was in awe of you."
Her eyes reddened and she sniffed.
"Well, for one you don't invite your old boyfriend over," I said.
"I didn't want Guy to come; I didn't ask him to. He bought tickets and thought to surprise me." I took her a tissue, wiped her eyes and nose. "Thanks, Jimmy. We were never serious, but we never really broke it off, either. He's a nice guy, and I thought maybe you'd want some freedom after putting up with me through all that."
Fuck. I didn't know what the hell to say. She sure as hell wasn't lying.
She continued,"You're right. I shit on you. When you were up there fucking Brie, all I could think about was how shitty I'd been to you. I deserved it. I deserved every scream."
I finally spoke. "No, you didn't. I was being a fucking jerk."
"I don't think Guy will ever come back here. I wasn't much fun."
"Sorry."
"No, Jimmy. I'm sorry. Listening to you fucking Brie, I was jealous. I was jealous of her. I didn't want to admit it to myself. Now I can."
I didn't say anything. Was I back in?
She took a deep breath, held it—thinking—and then sighed. Something was coming. "But, another thing you said before, about our future. You were right about that, too."
Shit.
She finished, "There is none. We're not going to date or have a relationship or get married. The only thing our relationship can do is hurt others. Beth. You. Me. Our family. We can't be together, no matter how badly I want it."
"So, that's it, then? It's over?"
"Don't you think it has to be?"
"No. We haven't hurt anyone, Claire. It doesn't change how I feel about you."
"And how is that? Have you changed your mind?"
"It never really changed, even when I was pissed. I want you. I think you're amazing, Claire."
"Don't say that. Or don't say it that way."
"It's the fucking truth is the problem."
We stared at each other and then the floor.
She began. "This will be good for us. I don't want you to come down unless I text you. I want to try to take care of everything myself."
"Eating?"
"I'll find a way."
I shrugged. "If that's what you want, then that's what we'll do."
She smiled and shook her head. "It's still about what I want, is it?"
I shrugged. "Or, what I want doesn't really matter." I walked toward the stairs. "Text me when you need me," I called out. "I'm going to go find a way to drown my sorrows in pussy."
"What did you say?" she asked, yelling back.
"Nothing, Claire."
***
I needed time to think. I spent the evening in bitter denial. Some awful thoughts ran through my head. I considered calling Brie again. I thought about what other girls I knew who could help me get back at Claire. I wondered if I should just take off for a few days, leave her completely by herself. I even thought about how I might get the sisters in a fight. I could tell my Mom that Claire was trying to seduce me.
I was in a bad place. What I didn't consider was giving up. No.
When I got a little more rational, I concluded that I needed to stay with Claire, not abandon her. I needed to be the guy I was when she first got hurt. I needed to be courteous, helpful, and thoughtful. I needed to take the initiative and anticipate her wants or needs.
I knew what I needed to do.
I did the research that evening and made several phone calls on Monday morning after I had set her up with breakfast, which I did quietly and with a smile. She didn't complain. I helped her eat. When I finally got on the phone, I asked some tricky questions and got transferred around between people, but I got my answers.
I went back down to Claire at around 10:00am.
"Shouldn't you be drowning your sorrows in pussy or something?" she asked.
"It was a stupid thing to say. I'm sorry."
"Jimmy, you keep coming down. I asked you not to unless I texted."
"I know. I've got a surprise for you."
"What?"
"We're going somewhere."
"Where?"
I just looked at her: come on, lady.
"Ah, that's the surprise, huh?"
I nodded. "We need to get dressed."
"Let me go to the bathroom."
I nodded, and after she left, I walked to her dresser and pulled out an old pair of jeans and a loose tee shirt. Then, I found her boots and her hat. Those, I took and put in the trunk of my car. I came back and laid out her clothes on the bed.
When she came out, she saw them and said. "Bit warm for jeans, isn't it?"
"No, they'll be perfect."
"Help me get them on."
I did, and dressing her reminded me of the good times. I put some tennis shoes on her. I brushed her hair and put it in a low ponytail. I didn't do too badly.
"Let's go," I said.
We drove for about 15 minutes before she said, "Jimmy, thank you."
She knew where we were going—to see her horse. But, she didn't know what else I had in mind. When we arrived at the facility, I took out the bag from the trunk and we walked to the stables. Claire greeted some of the people she knew, and then she saw her horse and touched him.
"Shoshone," she cooed, lifting her casts to caress the grey stallion's chin and jaw. Tears began to well up in Claire's eyes, but I was prepared with some tissues.
We opened the gate and took him out. The stable hands ran up, saddled, and prepared him to ride. Claire looked confused.
I pointed to a rolling set of stairs with a small elevator device built into it that was being wheeled out—a horse mounting device for the handicapped. Then I opened the bag with her boots and her hat. She looked up at me and gave me a huge hug with her casts. She kissed me on the cheek.
I helped her slip on her boots and don her hat. She looked ready to ride, and she was all smiles.
Shoshone was stationed at the end of the handicapped steps, and I walked Claire up them. She mounted gingerly, but successfully. One of the hands helped Claire with the reins, and she rode off through a gate into a fenced-in riding area. I watched her from behind the fence.
A duck on water, I thought. She could ride the horse with no hands. They walked a bit, and then she got Shoshone trotting. I heard her laughing, and several times, she just leaned against Shoshone's neck and put her cheek against him. I heard her tell the horse how sorry she was. I heard her tell him that she loved him.
They rode for about a half hour before Claire rode him out of the gate and over to the stairs.
On our way back to the car, I said, "Every day, if you want. I'll bring you back."
"I would love that, Jimmy." She reached over and took my hand.
I didn't say a word.
"What do you smell, Jimmy?" she asked.
"Horses. Dirt. Leather."
"Me, too. Don't you love it?"
"It's too new for me to love, yet. But, I can see how a person might."
She smiled. "No more Advil, Jimmy. I'm done with pain killers."
"Okay. You don't need them."
"When we get back, can you help me clean up?"
I nodded. "After one more thing. We have another stop to make."
"What?"
"Dr. Borst's office."
"Why?"
"Drop something off; pick something up."
"You really are full of surprises, college boy."
A half hour later, we were in a room with two nurses. Each was removing a cast. Claire looked at me, all full of questions.
"Be patient," I said.
Her bare arms reeked. I told her so.
She kicked me.
The nurses then washed her arms down and left.
"What's going on, Jimmy? There's no way I'm ready to be out of casts after—what—17 days."
"Just wait."
A few minutes later, the nurses came back, each carrying a device. They had blue padded tubes, one for the upper arm and one for the lower, and they were connected by black metal splints. Each had two circular elbow hinges.
The nurses explained them—how they were removable and adjustable, how they could get wet and be washed, and—most importantly—how they could pivot at the elbow.
Claire looked up at me in amazement. "How did you set this up, Jimmy?"
"A little bit of research. Making sure your arm breaks were the right type and in the right places. A few phone calls. Your PayPal account—I hope you don't mind."
She shook her head.
When they were on, Claire moved her arms. "Oh, my gosh. Oh, my gosh, I love this."
They weren't perfect. The range of motion wasn't great. She couldn't, for example, rotate her wrists. Still, it was way better than the old casts. She could bend her elbows. No more Frankenstein arms.
When we left, she was glowing.
"Freedom," she said.
"What?"
"And hope."
"What are you saying, Claire?"
"That's what you've given me: hope to ride again and compete; freedom to be independent and take care of myself. I don't know what to say."
"Just be happy. That's all I really care about, Claire."
"You're amazing, Jimmy. I envy your future wife."
I held her hand all the way back to the car. We drove home.
Once there, Claire said, "I know I asked you to help me get cleaned up, but..."
"What?"
"But, I'm afraid of what it might lead to."
I nodded, trying to stay positive. "You don't really need my help, though. You've got this."
I left. Damn it.
***
My Mom called me that night, pouring thanks and pride down on me for how I had helped her sister. Claire had called her earlier to brag me up.
She spent more time upstairs. I helped her prepare her food—not much, though—and she was eating it by herself.
Every morning, I drove her to the stables and she rode. That was about the extent of my duties.
On Friday morning, the pool guys showed up. They took off the cover, cleaned it up, and dumped in the chemicals. By the afternoon, it looked swimmable, but we had to wait 24 hours for the chemicals.
Mom flew home that night. The three of us had dinner together upstairs. I cleaned up afterwards to let them talk and catch up. As I finished up, Mom got a work call and she took it upstairs. I sat across from Claire.
"Jimmy, I've got to tell Beth the truth."
"Why?"
"I'm living under her roof. She's my sister. You're her son. I can't take living with this guilt. I've got to tell her."
"Look at me, Claire."
"What?"
"Do I look like I feel guilty?"
"You're not me."
"The High and Mighty Claire, so much more morally sensitive than the rest of us."
"Jimmy."
"Do what you think is right, Claire. I don't care, just so long as this is the last time you humiliate and shit on me."
I left. Fuck her. When I didn't feel like fucking her, I felt like killing her.
It was Friday night. I should have been out. I didn't feel like it with Claire's looming nuclear strike. Mom came up to my room sometime around 10:00pm.
"Hey, Jimmy. Can we talk?"
"Sure, Mom." Here it comes.
"I've got to fly back early tomorrow morning. Our expert witness can't testify; we need to find a new one and get him prepared. I'll need every second. I'd go tonight, but there are no more flights out that I could make."
"Geez, I'm sorry, Mom. That sucks."
"No, I'm sorry."
"I'll be fine."
No mention of Claire. I sighed in relief when Mom left my room. Then I sent a few texts, made a few calls, and went out.
I slept in Saturday morning—Mom had already gone. I woke up at almost noon and grabbed a bite to eat.
I considered my options.
I didn't want to give up on Claire, and I didn't believe she had given up on me. The tension was still there between us. There was unfinished business, and I think we both felt it.
Getting her jealous just didn't work.
But, being super nice really wasn't working, either.
What if, I thought, I just had fun?
I walked out the front door, and the moment the hot air enveloped me, I knew: the pool. That would be fun.
I called in a favor from a friend and made a quick trip to the grocery store.
An hour later, I put on my suit and grabbed a towel and sunglasses. I got a cooler ready and went down to the basement.
Access to the pool was through the basement apartment.
Claire was on the couch with her tablet.
"Going swimming," I said as I walked through. "Got some drinks and snacks if you want to come out."
I didn't wait for her to respond.
I pulled together two lounge chairs. Between them, I set up a table. I poured two ice-filled glasses full with margaritas. I opened a small cooler and pulled the top off two Tupperware containers, one full of salsa, one full of guacamole. I set a bag of tortilla chips beside them.
I jumped into the pool.
The water was cool, but the sun was so hot, it didn't matter. Felt good, actually. I swam laps for about ten minutes, and then I climbed out, beat. I took a huge sip of my drink and laid in the sun, perfectly relaxed.
Then, I heard Claire beating on the window. She waved for me.
I went back inside.
"Is it nice?" she asked.
"Cool water, hot sun."
"Care if I come out?"
"You live here, Claire. You don't need my permission."
"I can't put my top on. It hooks in the back."
We went to her room. She turned her back to me, and I helped her lift her shirt off. I caught brief glimpse of the side of her breasts, but I spent more time ogling her ass in those bikini bottoms. Then, we put her top on, and I latched it.
I was hard in my swimsuit.
I grabbed her towel and we walked out to the pool. I stayed in front of her, throwing her towel on the lounger where the untouched margarita sat perspiring.
I laid in the chair and took another drink.
Claire said, "Oh, it's beautiful out here." She walked over to the lounger and saw the drink. "This for me?" she asked, pointing at the cup.
I nodded.
"Is this a margarita?"
I nodded.
"You're not twenty-one," she pointed out.
I dipped a tortilla chip in some salsa, tossed it in my mouth, and mumbled, "Got friends, Claire."
She sighed, and then she glanced at my trunks. "Look at yourself, Jimmy!"
I looked down at the tent and shrugged. "You look amazing. I can't help it."
She sat in the chair and lifted the cup to her lips. After she took a sip, she smacked her lips and said, "Ahh, that's perfect. Thanks, Jimmy." She crossed her legs.
I admired their shape. Her bikini was white, making her body seem just a little more tan than it probably actually was from being practically shut in from her injury. The straps on her hips were low. The top was equally low, exposing a significant swath of upper breast flesh.
She snacked and drank. The salty chips kept her drinking; the salty drink kept her drinking. I refilled our cups.
When she had finished about half of her second margarita, I asked her if she wanted to sit on the bench around the deep end and cool off in the water.
"Good idea," she said.
I topped off her drink and carried both of ours to the end of the pool. I helped her down into the corner. She complained about the cold for a moment. The bench was submerged about 20 inches, and Claire sat with her new casts resting on the pool coping. I put her drink beside her hand and lowered myself next to her.
"This is perfect, Jimmy. I almost forgot you guys had a pool even though I could see it out my window every day."
"No use looking at something you can't use. Now you can," I offered.
She took another big drink, and we basked in the June sunshine. Under the water, I gently rubbed her thigh and she did not stop me.
She said, "Remember when I told you that I envied your future wife?"
"Yeah."
"I meant it."
"I know."
"But, I didn't just mean it because you're caring and thoughtful. And I didn't just mean it because you're handsome and sexy and strong."
I waited.
"When I said it, a part of me was thinking about your penis, too. You're probably already aware of this—I don't know, maybe not, you tell me—but that jaycock of yours is designed to give women orgasms."
"I never really liked it."
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"I've—you know—seen other dudes. Porn. Whatever. But, I always envied the guys with normal ones—straight ones. I've always hated that I'm limited to certain positions, otherwise its uncomfortable for the girl, or for me."
"What positions? From behind, you mean?"
"Yeah, mainly," I said.
"Because anything from the front is going to be amazing—for the woman, at least."
"Right."
"But, you like it when you're behind?" she asked.
Fuck, I liked this conversation. My cock was like the main mast of a sunken ship down there. "I like everything. I just don't like being limited, and, yeah, I like bootys. I love yours."
She smiled, "Oh, college boy, what am I going to do with you." She took another drink, and I slid my hand along her smooth, beautiful thigh.
I started to say something, but I decided what I was going to say was too expected, too obvious. So, I took a quick drink and dove down into the water. A few seconds later, I surfaced on the other side of the pool, sat on the bench, and threw my swim trunks on the concrete beside me.
"Did you just...?" she asked.
I nodded and smiled. "Getting all cramped up. Needed space. Plus, I didn't want to make you uncomfortable, Claire. So, I came over here."
She shook her head and took another drink. "You still want us to be together, don't you?"
I nodded and then I lifted my waist up to the surface. My cock rose up and out of the water, dripping and shining. The surface tension of the water, as it rode down the shaft, sent a small wave of pleasure through me.
"Jimmy!"
I laughed and lowered myself back down; the surface tension, again, felt like the ghost of a blowjob.
Claire giggled a little, too. She asked, "So, how do you think it's right that we should fuck?"
"Not just fuck. Be fucking."
She guffawed and said, "Okay. 'Be fucking.' How do you justify it?"
I shrugged. "There's no justifying. There's no need to, in my mind. I want you. You want me." I waded out, treading water, closing the gulf between us.
"Oh, you think I want you?"
I nodded, wading closer. "We're both capable. Our bodies are ready."
She took another sip. "Yours is."
I swam nearer to her. "We find each other extremely sexy."
She watched me. I reached out and grabbed her ankles, and I ran my hands up the smooth skin of her shins and back down.
"We need it. Our bodies are begging us to do it," I said and spread her legs, moving between them. I ran my hands along her thighs and hooked my fingers into the hip straps of her bottoms.
I went on. "Neither of us can forget that time on the couch, when I rubbed every inch of your body with my cock." Here, I dragged it across her thigh, from inside to out, and back again.
Claire sighed. It was not a sigh of exasperation or resignation, but one of pleasure.
I began to slip her bottoms down. "And what we did after," I added. Claire shifted her weight from side to side, and I had her bottoms down to her knees, and then off.
I moved closer, and the front of my cock butted softly into Claire's belly button. My face was just a few inches from hers.
"Your mouth was on me and mine on you," I continued, "The most hidden and secret parts of each other, we tasted." Then I kissed her.
She kissed me back, and I realized that, despite all we had done together, we'd never really kissed before. It was good—wet and soft.
I broke the kiss, and then I pulled her ass to the ledge of the bench, and I sank under the water. I wrapped my arms around her ass and pulled myself to her pussy. It wasn't easy, controlling my breath so as not to inhale or swallow pool water, but I was one motivated young man. I licked it and quickly found her clit, and then I lightly flicked my tongue up underneath it in tiny strokes. I stayed down longer than I thought possible.
When I broke the surface, I tried hard not to take too huge of a gasp. My body fought me for more air.
Claire murmured, "Fuck me, college boy."
I lifted her off the bench. Turning her around, I put her against my body and swam on my back to the shallow end. My hard cock kept her from slipping off. It rode underneath her, between her legs. I felt the slickness there and her warm labia enveloped the top length of the shaft.
When we could both stand, Claire turned to me and put her arms around my neck. I hiked her legs up and we kissed. The water level was right under my balls. Both of us wriggled and squirmed until my cock was in position.
When the tip slid inside, we both stopped and looked at each other.
"Fuck me, Jimmy," she uttered, and there was plaintive eagerness in her voice,
I pushed inside, and as I slid in, I knew it was going to be the best sex I ever had. Her pussy fit my cock better than any other. The bend still pushed hard against the upper surface of her vagina, but not uncomfortably so. And, once I was in a few inches, her pussy seemed to bend up with me—or at least grip the underside of my cock better than I'd ever felt before.
When I felt my little hairs mashed up against her, Claire gasped, "Oh, no. That's beautiful."
Her voice in that moment stirred me. It was so softly spoken, so feminine, and infused with a the most sensual undertones of both satisfaction and hunger. I might not have recognized that voice in another setting. It was how Claire sounded, I supposed, when she'd given herself to a man completely. It was incredibly arousing, that voice.
My hands under her ass, I pulled us apart and brought us together. We were fucking at a plodding, languorous pace.
Soon I realized that, like some other girls I had been with, Claire had two moments of pleasure: first, when I was in all the way. Second, when the tip of my bendy cock, pushing up against the top of her vaginal wall just a few inches inside her, rubbed back and forth. At each of those two positions, Claire signaled her rapture with little gasps.
"It's beautiful, Jimmy," she moaned, and she kissed me hard, shoving her tongue inside my mouth. I didn't want her to stop talking to me with that sexy voice, but the kiss ignited me.
I slapped us together more swiftly and urged my cock deeper inside her, sending little waves coursing across the pool.
Her energy matched mine. She gasped into my mouth, but neither of us broke the kiss.
That kiss, it was something. All of the pleasure Claire wished to express went through her lips and into mine. I felt the vibrations of her groans on my tongue. Spurts of air burst down from her little nose over our lips. Every so often, her satisfaction rose up an octave, and she squealed into me and through me. I felt those in my guts. Soon, I was grunting my response.
Moments later, we came together. Our faces remained locked in the kiss, broadcasting ecstasy inside and through each other. Her robust legs gripped and squeezed my waist. I clenched her ass. The entire core of my body flexed completely, and my cock pulsed inside her.
Claire broke the kiss, tipped her head back and shrieked at the sky as my semen shot into her. I watched the tendons and muscles of her neck undulate.
The release rocked me. Her, too, it seemed. My weeks of thwarted desire and hers of inner conflict and resistance, they exploded from us. I had been feeling like an archer who absolutely had to keep that arrow ready and on target—poised to shoot—for hours on end. Finally, my fingers let the arrow sail. Finally, I heard my target receive the energy of the strike.
Claire's forehead rolled over and settled against my chest. I watched her torso rise and fall as she panted.
My cock, though spent, remained throbbingly hard inside her, and I never wanted to take it out.
"Jimmy," she huffed, "Oh, Jimmy, that was...." She searched for a word, and then she said, "Pure."
I smiled at her. "Pure?"
She nodded. "It was pure and exquisite and beautiful."
We kissed.
I carried her inside the house and put her on the couch in the apartment den. I threw a big comforter on the floor and put her on it. Then, I made out with her.
Fuck, did we kiss. And touch. I should have been drained and disinterested in sex after having cum so hard, but Claire fueled me.
It was like a wrestling match on the floor. She rolled on top of me, popped on her knees and rubbed my chest and stomach. She pulled down and away, pinching and tugging my lower lip a little before letting it go and latching onto one of my nipples. Then, I rolled us on on our sides, resumed kissing her and let my fingertips softly search all over her breasts. On fire from what I was feeling, I climbed over her and sucked on her nipples. But, Claire got impatient. She put me on my back again, and kissed me everywhere, teasing and working around my stiffening cock.
I watched her lips connect with my navel, side, hip, and thigh. She glanced at my cock, and then smiled at me. She dragged her tongue up the shaft, and I groaned. Then, she sat up and scooted forward, straddling me on her knees. Reaching behind her back, she grasped my cock, positioned it against herself, and sat back against it.
"Oh, no, no, no, no," she moaned as I slid back inside her.
She rode me; I was her horse. She was in some kind of zone, staring at me like I was the next eight-foot gate she had to surmount. She sped up, and soon she was fucking at a numbing pace. Beads of perspiration formed on her forehead and her face flushed pink. She didn't say a word; she just panted like a marathon runner, fierce concentration in her eyes.
Glad I had already cum once, I might have only lasted two minutes underneath her if I hadn't. I don't ever think of determination or focus as sexy qualities, but Claire, sweaty and fucking me like an Olympian, was one of the most beautiful and arousing things I'd ever seen.
At some point, I sensed a change. Her body searched for a new angle, and found one by absolutely slamming against me. Her ass audibly slapped against my thighs. She wanted me all the way in, as deep as I could go. I clasped her ass and thrusted in rhythm with her. She nodded at me.
She was so incredibly sexy, and I was not going to be able to stop myself. I gritted my teeth and groaned.
Claire pinched her eyes shut. Perspiration dripped off her face onto mine and then she started calling out my name. At first, she whispered it, and shit, I liked it. Then, she got louder and, somehow, quickened her pace even more.
Every muscle in my body flexed, and my cock felt enormous inside her. She screamed my name, and I came inside her in bursts. The cum was like electricity sparking up through me, and I didn't so much feel like I was filling her body with semen, but with pure energy. Each burst of cum was a transfer of this power from me to her. She took it all, screaming as it sped into her.
Just as my muscles relaxed, her body collapsed on top of mine. I wrapped my arms around her and held us together, feeling the rise and fall of our chests and listening to her whisper my name.
I had a fleeting thought in those minutes as I held her tight against me: this moment was not now, but actually some moment in the future, five years from now, maybe. Claire was my wife, and we were trying for our first baby.
That cannot be.
Then, I wondered if I might find some woman, some replica of Claire back at college next fall or out there in the world someday.
Not possible.
I fantasized for a moment that Claire was my Mom's step-sister, and after a few difficult conversations with Mom, Claire and I had an avenue to be together.
No. They were full blood sisters.
Finally, I considered the very real possibility that I would compare my every future lover to Claire and every future lovemaking session to this one, and find them all wanting.
My cock slipped out of her, and Claire sighed.
***
Throughout the week, I did my best to push those futile fantasies from my mind and focus on the times we were together. And, shit, were we together that week.
It was an explosion of lust. We fucked everywhere—in the shower, in the den, in her bed, in mine, in the main kitchen, and on the dining room table. The only place we avoided was Mom's bed.
We took each other when we felt like it, and neither of us ever resisted. When I wanted her, she let me; when she wanted me, she got me. Sometimes, there was a great build up to it: dinner together at a restaurant, drinks at home, cuddling, kissing, and then fucking. Other times, it was just a look, a word, or an interesting view of the other that set one of us off, and suddenly we were stripping and screwing.
We even fucked at her stables one night, and she got off quickly. The smells, she said, took her to a higher level.
Most of the time, we fucked, but occasionally she just wanted my tongue, my fingers, or both. She ground on my face or pulled my head between her legs.
A few times, she sucked on me, but when I tried to pry her off so that we could fuck, she grunted, pushing my hands away until my stomach clenched up and she had drawn everything out from me with her mouth.
When we weren't fucking at home or elsewhere, we went for walks in the neighborhood. Or, I would take her to ride Shoshone. We went to the art museum once, and another time, went to the zoo. From Saturday to Friday, we did things together, gave each other our bodies, and recovered by eating and sleeping like kids.
It was, without a doubt, the best week of my life.
On Friday night, as we waited for the sound of the garage door and my Mom's eminent arrival, we sat in recliners in the main family room. The tv was on, but we were talking, talking about our future.
"You know why Guy and I didn't work out? Really, why no boyfriend ever works out for me?" she asked.
I shook my head. "I can't imagine how anyone might not want to do everything possible to make a relationship with you work out, Claire. I would."
"You're sweet, but it never works out, and its because of my riding, my training."
I lifted my chin—a signal to go on.
She did. "Jimmy, when I'm in training, I never go out. I'm practicing jumps, just riding, studying film, working out, and taking care of my horse sixteen, eighteen hours a day, every day. And, I'm in training almost year round. On a given night, I might have a half hour or an hour to relax after I come home and before I crash."
"That's some serious commitment, Claire."
"I'm going to be a champion, Jimmy. If anything, this accident—what happened to me—has been a blessing. I've never been more motivated. And I know there are things in competition that I can't control. Luck plays a role. But, everything that I can control, I'll do it perfectly. If I'm not a champion, it won't be because I haven't earned it. It won't be because I don't deserve it."
"You'll be a champion."
"Thank you, Jimmy. But, do you see what I mean? About boyfriends?"
"I do."
"When I can start riding again for real, jumping—what, in about three weeks?—I know I can't be ready for this year's Nationals, but next spring begins the ramp up to the Olympic trials and then it's the Olympics."
"But, the Olympics are two years away."
She nodded. "And there will be three major competitions and a few smaller ones—important ones—leading up to trials."
"What are you saying?" I asked.
"I'm saying in three weeks, I go back to full time training, and I can't have any boyfriend to be worrying about."
I nodded. "Right."
"Jimmy, you're not my boyfriend—never will be."
"Right."
She went on. "And I already know I don't have to worry about you."
I looked up at her, confused.
She was smiling. "Don't you see, Jimmy?"
I shook my head.
"What I'm saying is: you're the perfect guy for me for the next few years."
I said, "So, we're...what?"
"Just lovers. And pretty soon, I'll get my own place."
"And while I'm at school?" I asked.
"You know I won't have a boyfriend, and I don't care if you have a girlfriend, just as long as when you're home, you're with me, Jimmy."
"And when the Olympics are over?" I asked.
"When I get back from Tokyo, I'll have some thinking to do about the future. We'll decide then."
I pondered her proposal, imagining how amazing it would be to have Claire for the next two years or so.
She mistook my expression for some kind of internal debate. She said, "Please, Jimmy. Can we?"
"Huh? Yes, Claire. Yes, I want to be with you as much as we can. Yes."
"Really?"
"Right. Yes," I said, definitively.
She smiled, and there was a playful deviousness in her eyes when she said, "Tilt that recliner, all the way back."
I raised my eyebrows for a moment, and then pulled the handle on the side of the chair. The footrest kicked out and I leaned back to horizontal. Claire sashayed over to me and pulled my shorts down.
"Claire! My Mom will be here, like, any minute."
"Then, I guess," she said, climbing over me and putting her ass in my face, "I'd better suck this cock really, really well."
I was limp when her mouth completely engulfed me, her lips nestled in my little hairs. She hadn't taken off the purple yoga pants she was wearing. I looked at the perfect curvature of her legs and ass. My mouth watered at the sight of that flat stretch of space between her legs and beneath the little hills of her cheeks.
Then, I felt the suction and the massaging motion of her tongue. I felt the sultry wetness of her mouth, and my cock grew inside.
I had no sense of how full I was becoming, how hard and long, but Claire remained latched to the base. I groaned.
Despite the intensity of the pleasure, I was also keenly attuned to every sound I heard. If that garage door opened...
The tip of my cock pushed up against the back of her throat; Claire gagged and drew back.
"How much time, Jimmy, after we hear the garage door opening?"
"Wha—oh. Say, a minute? Just under."
She took the shaft back in her mouth, and I could see her head down the length of her back, bobbing. She moaned into my cock, and I gasped at the sensation.
She pulled off and whispered, "I want your cum, Jimmy. Please give me your cum. Please let me suck it out of you, baby."
That voice. Oh, shit. Her head began moving up and down again. My eyes had been pinched shut, and when I opened them, I was clutching her ass.
Her mouth—the sensation—it filled my body with fire. It wasn't blood coursing through me anymore, but fuel, and it was burning.
"Oh, shit, Claire," I uttered.
She moaned her response into my cock.
"Take me deep, babe."
She did, and the fuel that burned in me just exploded. I gasped as her soft lips nursed me, suckled me, and swallowed me.
The garage door opened as Claire drew up the last of my orgasm.
"That's her," I grunted, but Claire didn't seem to care. She kissed the tip of my cock and took me deep again, moaning all the way down. I gasped, "Oh, shit."
The garage door began to close, and Claire was still bobbing on the shaft.
I heard her car door open, and then close.
Claire let me slip out and nonchalantly climbed off me as I raced to pull up my pants and threw my shirt over my still jutting erection.
The entryway door opened, and I heard Mom's footsteps in the hall.
I released the handle and sat up in the chair. Claire sat back down in hers, looked at me and winked.
"Hey, guys!" Mom said from the kitchen, looking in on us.
"Welcome back, Beth!" Claire said.
"Hi, Mom," I added.
Claire engaged Mom in small talk—the flight, the case. I relaxed in the chair, feeling my erection ebb, but enjoying a kind of full-body buzz from Claire's incredible blowjob.
I thought about the future—the two years I had coming with her.
Mom went upstairs to change, and Claire stood up from the chair and walked over to me. She leaned close and whispered, "Tonight. When she's asleep. Any way you want me, college boy." Then, she turned and walked away. I watched her body move and began to imagine.