Setting Free the Broen Arms

If you believe in fate, this all started about a week ago. Allison was a rider, as in horses. She did those jumps and what not. I guess I just knew her from band though. A flautist, horse back rider, and the lucky recipient of two broken arms. The full arm casts that covered both arms disabled her from bending her elbows and so her range of arm motion and function was significantly decreased.

I'd never even been especially attracted to her, the result not of any shortcoming on her part but more-so the fact that she was a somewhat reserved person and I just hadn't gotten to know her that well. If someone had asked my opinion on her looks I might have said something like, "I'd do her."

Eventually, as luck would have it, I was confronted with the question of my physical attraction toward her. On a rather hot day in September, she approached me as I lingered outside the band hall between third and fourth periods. She asked if I would help her do some quick homework after school. She would do the actual thinking, and all I would have to do is write. So I agreed.

We met about twenty minutes after school and I generously provided my ability to move my arms, so that she might turn in an essay regarding Ayn Rand's "Anthem". As I typed the slightly illegible hand-written pages she presented me with, I saw in her words what implied a deep seeded fear of anything that questioned the religion her parents brought her up with. I felt a little sorry for her when I pondered how much she will miss out on if she runs from anything that asks her to question her beliefs. But then again, she was a sweet girl and I felt bad wanting her to go through the stress and anxiety of a major philosophic crisis.

As I looked back and forth from Allison to the paper, taking down her words, she kept fidgeting uncomfortably. She had her legs crossed and would rock back and forth then switch her legs into the opposite arrangement. I didn't bother asking her what was wrong, as she hadn't asked to take a break from writing. So I continued to jot down her increasingly scattered thoughts.

After we finished, the two of us walked out of the empty classroom we had been using and walked down her hallway. I really felt sorry for her as she struggled to put on her backpack, disabled by the casts that went up high above her elbows and down below her knuckles. She really couldn't do much for herself.

As I was thinking this, she got quiet and stopped walking. She fidgeted around and made small awkward noises.

"Anything wrong, Allison?"

"No," she told me, "I'm fine. Well... yeah, actually."

"I mean as long as it's not too much trouble, I can help you."

"Well," she looked down at the floor and hesitated, "I don't know if this is appropriate. I wouldn't ask you, but- well, I really wouldn't ask anybody this. But it's too bad. Oh my god. Well -"

"Don't be embarrassed."

"Ok," she said as she exhaled. "Well, It's hard to do certain things with these casts. I can't really use my fingers or grasp many things. Well, the thing is, I can't undo my pants. I've got to go to the bathroom terribly bad."

"umm..." I thought for a moment. This was definitely strange. Does she want me to unbutton her pants and pull them down? Whatever. "Ok." I finally replied.

"Thank you. You don't know how bad I need this."

I followed her to the girls bathroom where I hesitated for a moment before proceeding in. I joined her in the last stall. She turned around and kept her gaze towards the floor. "Go ahead. Don't worry. Just unbutton the button and just let the pants fall. So I did. I stretched out my hand and hesitated just before I touched the waist of her pants. They were just regular jeans, and in really no time I popped the button out of the little hole and the waist loosened, but the pants didn't fall. I looked up at her and she nodded, so I grabbed the zipper with my shaky hand, and slowly pulled it down. As I reached the bottom, I could feel, perhaps just a symptom of my overactive imagination, heat emanating from between her legs.

The thick yet supple looking denim loosened and as she casually wriggled her hips the jeans slid at first down just below the spot where her legs meet revealing plain white, bikini-cut cotton panties, and then fell into a pile around her feet. A few impossibly long and tunnel visioned seconds after I observed this, as I stood there transfixed with the utterly magical sight before me, I became suddenly aware of my own presence in the little stall. I would like to say that I stood there still only because I wanted to make sure she was going to be ok from that point on, but the truth is that I felt overwhelmed by the sight of what I knew to be a real live female vagina covered only by a soft patch of hair and a few thinly stretched pieces of cotton, so overwhelmed that I simply had forgotten the key facts of the situation: She didn't really want me to be in here doing this; I was a last resort.

I fidgeted noticeably with my head down and wondered if she were just staring at me as I made a fool out of myself . My worst fears were confirmed when I finally looked up. As my eyes drifted upward to her head, we made eye contact. The look on her face could only be interpreted as a plea for my absence. So I made to turn the other way and let myself out of the stall, but a cast-covered hand touched my arm and it's voice told me not to leave yet.

"Do you need me to help you with anything else?" I asked, averting my gaze from the thinly clad lower half of Allison's body.

"No. Well, it's just that, and I assure you that you don't have to be embarrassed, I can't get my panties down I don't think. If you-" and she trailed off there.

I was once again rendered incomprehensible as I attempted three separate replies but never got past the the first word on any.

"If you don't feel comfortable, I understand. I can find somebody else to help me... and put myself through all of this discomfort again."

As she said this, something turned on in my brain that brought to my attention what I had not noticed before: I was lucky to be here, damn lucky. There was a tall, fit, shy blonde girl in front of me asking me to take her panties off and if I didn't do it somebody else would get to. So despite my own awkwardness and inexperience, I mustered as much confidence as I could and said, "No, it's ok. I'll do it for you."

I turned to face her directly and reached both of my hands out to her waist. My knuckles grazed the skin covering her hip bones, and I received a quick chill from the softness of it. I hooked my thumbs inside the top of her panties at each hip and began to pull them downward. I realized that I didn't actually need to look at her to accomplish this task, and so I glanced up at her face, but she seemed indifferent to what I did with my eyes. I pulled the edges down as the fabric began to bunch and a few golden hairs peaked out over the portion that covered her crotch. My fingers shook and I drew in audible breaths. Slowly I pulled her panties down until a small patch of blond hair became exposed. The hair thickened as I was able to see lower until it disappeared between her legs. I brought her panties down to her knees and took one final survey of the little bush and noticed beautifully rounded lips partly visible through the golden wisps of hair.

"Would you mind just waiting outside while I go?" she asked.

"No, of course not." I stepped outside the stall and closed the door behind me. I went back out into the hall and waited for two minutes to pass on the clock above the door while my heart pounded furiously. I had no idea how I had gotten into this situation, not that it was a bad situation to be in, it's just that things like this did not often happen to people like me.

I turned to look at myself in the mirror that covered the wall next to the bathroom. I wasn't a bad looking guy, at least by realistic standards. I probably don't have any outstanding features. I'm just a tall skinny white boy who dresses in the fashions of so many generations of procrastinators, unhygienic and indifferent. But I did have one thing going for me. My hair grows in beautiful curly red locks, and for the last year I had been letting my hair grow out and was now almost to my shoulders. I had that, and I suppose I was pretty proud of it. But that's hardly ever enough by itself, and where my hair ends, so does my general chemistry with members of the opposite sex. I get nervous. But today. Something about today made it seem as though the stars had lined up. Maybe I was being cheap by getting off on somebody else's embarrassing situation, but it was simply too hot and in my face to not become aroused.

As the second hand rounded the eleven for the second time, signaling what I figured to be ample bathroom time, I took a deep breath and opened the door to the girls bathroom. "Thank god nobody else is in the school this late," I thought to myself.

"Are you finished?" I called at just above a normal speaking volume.

"Yes, I suppose so."

"Ok," I said hesitantly, "I'm coming in."

"Ok."

Despite what I had already seen, I was shocked by the sight before me: A quite beautiful girl, sitting on a public school toilet with her arms in full casts and her jeans and panties around her ankles. Just visible between her legs was a tuft of feathery blonde hair.

She looked at me as if I were a menacing shadow suddenly revealed to be nothing more than something perfectly harmless, mundane and suddenly the subject of her gratitude for not being a monster.

"I really want to thank you for doing this," she said. "I was pretty embarrassed but you made it easier and more comfortable. Just don't tell anybody, Ok?"

"Ok," I replied. "You have my word."

She stood up, and once again the sight of her rounded lips came into view only vaguely camouflaged by her pubic hair. A few drops of what I guessed was urine clung to the hair.

"Um... would you mind getting some toilet paper and just barely dabbing down there. I really can't stand the feeling of my panties feeling wet against me."

"Holy Shit!" I screamed in my mind. I believe my eyes conveyed the same message. Hand shaking, I reached out and tore off a decent sized section of toilet paper. I froze then for a few seconds as I prepared to touch, although not directly touch a female vagina.

I could hear my heart beating as I moved the wad of toilet paper to between her legs. She actually shifted her feet further apart to allow me easier access. I looked up for a second and she was biting her lip and staring down at my hand. I finally made contact, but used perhaps a bit too much force and instead of lightly dabbing at her wispy hair, I bumped the paper and my hand right up against her eliciting a short gasp from Allison.

"Sorry," I quickly offered in defense of my clumsiness.

"No, it's Ok," she told me in a slightly shaky voice. "Did you get it all?"

"I'm not sure."

I decided to take a little bit bolder of a step. Her gasp had excited me; She must have felt it. I extended my hand again and put the toilet paper against her with just as much unwarranted pressure but this time lingering long enough to rub it further between her legs towards her ass. She let out a little moan like some part of her was unwillingly collapsing.

"Now?" she asked.

"Almost," I said.

I repeated my same action, this time starting from the back and moving to the front and stopping just before her hair started to thin. Her legs were slightly trembling. My heart was racing.

"Anymore?"

"Its hard to tell."

I again placed the toilet paper against her puffy round lips and massaged in little circles. She put her hands against the painted metal sides of the stall and spread her legs slightly wider. I kept massaging.

"I really just don't like that wet feeling. Make sure," she said in a stifled voice.

"I'll work harder," I told her. I don't know where my boldness came from, but something told me she wanted this, she was mine.

As I kept rubbing the now dampening toilet paper up and down the length of her slit, she began to breath in short gasps. "I believe it's getting worse."

With that, she began pushing into my hand. I threw the toilet paper into the toilet below her and replaced it with my cupped hand. I massaged her mound back and forth while my palm was excited by the contour of her slippery open lips, the damp hair that surrounded them, and the hard little nub at the top where they met.

I curled my middle and ring finger in slightly and they slipped snugly into the warm entrance to her pussy. I felt the walls squeeze around my fingers and then release. She moaned and sank down a bit further on my fingers, which were acquiring a good bit of lubrication.

I pushed my two slick fingers in as far as I could and her pussy seemed to pull and hold them there. Then as I curled the tips of my fingers back more and touched something spongy, the creak of the opening door traveled over the stall and into my ears. She obviously did not hear it, as her heavy breathing had turned into a wavering moan.

As the sound of clacking footsteps grew louder, nearer, her legs began to give way and shake before she fell down onto the toilet and pinched her legs around my hand. I heard two sudden eruptions of noise, one of intense pleasure and one of frightened epiphany. The high-heeled feet outside the door quickly turned and scampered away as the shiny thighs around my hand loosened. My fingers slipped out of her and played around her lips.

She smiled at me awkwardly and took in deep breaths. "Did somebody just come in?"

"Yeah," I said, "but whoever it was made for the door pretty quickly once they realized what was going on."

"Oh, shit," she said. "I better get going before anybody else comes in and sees us. Would you mind uh... getting me ready to go?"

"Oh. Of course not. I should dry you off. I know you don't like the wet feeling."

She looked down at me and we locked eyes for a moment before she whispered, "I don't mind at all."