Having been released from his first institutional obligation, Mr. Smith finds himself in transit with most unlikely company, navigating a tricky path which through intuition and a touch of mania our man successfully crosses to reward and surprise on the other end.
*****
The first stop after leaving Kate was what looked like another hospital, and in fact driving up it became apparent that it was another hospital, smaller than the last but with the unmistakable white blandness that most of these institutions projected. Automatic sliding doors, antiseptic furniture with bleached wood and muted fabric...all normal and expected for a hospital waiting room.
"Wait here a sec," the orderly said, strangely oblivious that I was in a locked wheelchair with no other opportunities to go anywhere the hell else. He zipped down the hallway and I sat alone, looking around. A small Mexican family sat in the corner, watching a Spanish-dubbed Sponge Bob disinterestedly on a TV monitor on the wall. A handout shelf was next to a closed reception window, thru which I could see a large black woman now chatting with my very same orderly.
She belted out a laugh and they both collapsed into a riot of guffawing. He looked at his watch, then up at me, then mumbled something to himself, disappeared from view and showed up 10 seconds later from the very same corridor he had walked down in the first place.
"OK she's here, let's get to it." He unlocked the brakes and we moved forward.
"Where are we heading?" I asked, completely bewildered.
"Gotta check in with Mary first then we'll head over to the center. Shouldn't take too long, here ya go, see you later man."
He knocked on a door in a nondescript corridor, and from inside a "come on in" invited my orderly to open the door and wheel me in to stop in front of a desk.
"Mr. Smith, Ma'am."
"Thanks Rod, I'll let you know when we're ready."
He left the way he came as I heard the door close behind me.
I could see the back of a young lady's head across the desk from me, working away on her computer.
"Just a sec, OK? Have to get this final report in."
There was more typing, and finally with a flourish an index finger snapped a key with purpose. "Done! OK now, let's get down to business."
She spun around and locked eyes with me. There was a brief, odd glance as she kept turning, not even stopping the spin of her chair. Her straight auburn hair followed, spinning a split second behind her. Having rotated 360 degrees and now facing the computer again, she blurted out "Oh gosh, I completely forgot, we have some other paperwork to deal with..."
She shuffled some loose papers around for a few long moments, then continued "And the reason you're here is we get to talk a little about your status, how you are doing, and what comes next. Being a post-comatose patient can be very difficult and can cause many post transitional issues that we want to, um, ass-ist with."
Did she really just stress the first syllable like that? After Kate, I was not sure what to expect. Like the cad I was, or maybe always had been, I lifted my fingers as though to scratch my chin. I breathed in. Yep, Kate actually happened, that was no dream.
"My Name is Meredith, my friends call me, um, Mary. I'll be your social worker," she said, standing up. "Let's get you something to read."
She crossed to my side of the desk, very close but facing away from me as she riffled thru a rack on the wall with some more pamphlets.
She was actually quite a hottie, a little girlish but confident and established. I could see diplomas on her wall above the desk where she had been sitting, a few of them if that meant anything. Her radiant skin was complemented by her shoulder length hair, and her lips were a pale shade of red. She had a small gold stud in her nostril in the Indian style, and it set off well against her Danish nose.
Her top was a loose flower print pullover, so I really couldn't define what was underneath the blouse, but there appeared to be something tugging at the fabric when she moved just so, at least what I could see peripherally. Despite my dreams to date, I was not a sex addled perv who'd directly ogle a woman's tits, at least I didn't feel like I was. Still, measuring up the qualities of the opposite sex felt quite natural.
She was facing away from me at the pamphlet rack as I moved the wheelchair slightly to take in her whole form. Athleisure black leggings over a set of fine smooth legs, rising up to a lovely set of rounded ass cheeks, all held slightly aloft by the spandex of the pants and the rise of her heels.
Her plump ass rose slightly towards my face as she bent down at the waist to gather some other paperwork further down on the rack, the cheeks blossoming as they pushed against the sheer black fabric. As she bent down further, a partial view of a nicely framed triangle of stretched material presented itself just inches away.
Suddenly realizing I could use my post-comatose brain condition as a lame excuse as Dr. Prick had blah, blah, blah, I took the initiative with a deep breath and reached out and put both my hands firmly on her splayed hips.
"Do YOU need any ass-istance?" I asked, rubbing my hands down along her shiny cheeks, pressing harder into the soft material.
Her ass fat gave way deliciously as I continued to push into her muscle, and the shimmering texture and light played on the flesh that was moving in tandem with the pressure of my mitts.
She moaned, jutting her butt further into my waiting hands, her legs now straightening, the weight on her heels grinding into the floor.
Wasting no time, I slid my hands closer in towards her center, and my thumb gently brushed the area where her asshole was lying in wait under the tight material. I grabbed a full hand of smooth covered cheek with my left hand while I pushed slowly but forcefully with my right thumb into her crack, and as it made its way further in I could feel the edges of her little sphincter thru the sheer material.
She whimpered as I pushed the tip of my thumb into the stretched fabric and then into her asshole, and she kept whimpering as I ground it around harder, each push and shove taking the cloth-bound digit a little farther into that dark and sensitive hole. My other hand massaged her meaty cheek as she pushed back against the pressure of my thumb, until at last her ass was close enough for me to lean out and get my mouth in place to start to gnaw on her cloth covered butt cheek.
My thumb by now was drilling against her backdoor like a piston, and her breathing was fast and ragged as I saw her fingers reach down and start pulling tightly around her black fabric triangled pussy, rubbing frantically there as she worked to get herself off.
When she began to shudder, I jammed my thumb as hard as I could into her asshole only to be greeted by a satisfying tear of material, as the sheer black fabric finally gave way to the stresses I had inflicted upon it to this point.
My thumb slid up to its hilt in her asshole as she let out a ragged gasp. I grabbed the small torn area of fabric with my free hand, and gave it a quick rent exposing her voluptuous ass cheeks. My right hand was squarely pushed up against her curving crack, my thumb stuck fully and gratifyingly as far up her ass as it would go.
I grabbed her bare butt cheek with my left hand and slammed my face into it as she started to gyrate and then clutched her own pink and shuddering pussy thru the torn fabric that dangled down from above.
"Mr. Smith?" I heard her moan. Well, not really a moan so much as a question. "Mr. Smith, are you ok?"
I looked around me in a daze.
She was sitting in her chair across the desk from me, holding what looked like pamphlets. Pamphlets?
"I just grabbed you some of these pamphlets and when I sat back down, well, you must have passed out. Are you ok?" She stood up. "Let me get you a glass of water."
I watched as she walked out the door. The ass cheeks were exactly as I remembered them, full and bouncing in black stretch fabric on top of heeled legs...but there was no torn fabric or open view to her ass crack! What the...? It was so real, it just was.
How could it not have...?
She walked back in as I was just putting my hand back in my lap. I had checked, and could still smell the freshness of Kate's Nordic pleasure on my fingers, but nothing apart from that. No smell of thumb-buggered asshole. No ripped leggings. My fucked up brain had dreamed it all.
I gladly took the glass of water and we proceeded to walk thru what seemed like a thousand questions, followed by some forms I needed to fill out "if I was up to it." The entire time I was writing, I'd feel her looking at me but when I looked up, she'd glance away or at a notepad on her desk, which was plainly empty of any writing.
I finished and set down the pen.
"Any more questions?" she said prettily. I liked how the corners of her eyes crinkled up just slightly when she smiled.
"I like how the corners of your eyes crinkle up when you smile," I said, stupidly hearing my voice even I was becoming aware of what I just said. Out loud.
"Oh, ah," she stammered, "um, well thank you, I...um, yes. Well, let's go ahead then and get you ready for your last stop of the day, ah, right, over to the transitional housing in Eastside." She was visibly rattled, looking at her blank notepad again, then whirling back to her computer screen.
"You know what? She said to her screen, "I have to get over there as well, how are you feeling, are you ready to get out of that chair?"
I pushed against the arm rails and stood up, less stable than I actually felt but still upright and holding my own. "Yep!" It felt good to stand, my legs were weak but of course in front of a lovely woman, my pride would never let that show. More Mr. Smith from before, or more base instinct of any man? I was still no closer to knowing.
