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Gary Wright: "I've just closed my eyes again. Climbed aboard the dream weaver train. Driver take away my worries of today, and leave tomorrow behind."
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I'm a quiet and shy guy. I rarely do anything that would draw attention to myself. What's going on now embarrasses me. I can't explain why I did what I did, but even now it seems like it was the only logical thing to do.
Sitting first at a stop sign, with a patrol car behind me, we were waiting for a school bus to unload before I could turn left. There were kids crossing the road on the left side of the bus. There were kids walking down the sidewalk on the right side of the bus. Out of the corner of my eye I caught the sight of an oncoming car. What concerned me was that the approaching car should have slowed down by now. My heart was in my throat. This asshole is going to crash into the bus at a high rate of speed. When it became evident that the car wasn't slowing down at all, I pulled into the intersection. To me it didn't seem like the driver ever saw me. What ensued was loud and painful. He, it would turn out that it was a young male driver, struck my car squarely near the right front wheel. I thought I was dead.
There's nothing else I remember from that point on. Only after viewing the dash cam video, from the patrol car, did I see the carnage. The out-of-control car, after striking me, spun out to the right of the bus doing a cartwheel over the sidewalk. Several kids were injured, but none seriously. My car was driven into the back of the bus, turning me into the meat of a car doors sandwich. A few children on the bus were injured when tossed about, but thankfully just some scratches. The only person with a serious injury was me. The distracted youth escaped with cuts and bruises, and several thousand dollars in traffic citations.
The Jaws of Life extracted me from the twisted metal about an hour after the accident. I was comatose until later that evening. The details, of what I could remember, were crystal clear right up until the impact. Once stabilized, a few investigators took my statement. That started the media circus. Some fund me page was already set up to create a plaque memorializing my actions.
All of that was fine, but I was in terrible shape. After all of the surgeries, it appeared I would be in full traction for a few months. Lovely.
The tears streaming down the face of my bride of four years, Marina, caused me to choke up. There was no way to give her a hug. The neck brace prevented me from even turning my head towards her. For the next week Marina did the footwork for my return home. We had only been owners of our house for six months. Funds were already stretched, but word seemed to spread and soon volunteers were converting out home into one that my wheelchair could negotiate. With therapy I could expect to be completely mobile in six months or so.
Once home, I spent all day every day laying on my back. The visiting nurses stopped by three times a day. They did a remarkable job of making me 'feel clean'. Using tongs, they slid the gauze under the casts, both cleansing and scratching the itchy parts. Who thought something so simple could feel so good. I'd watch the national news in the morning, and then turn over to music channels.
The steady stream of well-wishers slowed, but so many appreciative families made Marina's life much easier. I'd been kissed on the cheek a thousand times. The smell of foreign perfume was a little erotic. Ravaging Marina was high on my list of things to do once enough plaster had been removed.
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It was early on a Saturday when things got very interesting.
A woman, with dirty blond hair and wearing a pink Mardi Gras mask, entered my bedroom and remained silent. She stood before the mirror gazing at her reflection and was deep in thought. Tugging gently at it, her blouse broke free from the grip of her skirt. She slowly unlatched each of the five buttons of her blouse. She hadn't done anything overtly erotic, but my cock begged to differ.
First the left side, and then the right, she pushed the blouse from her shoulders. Shifting slightly, the blouse cascaded down her arms and onto the floor. Her bra covered beauties were not only admired by pink mask, but by myself too. I couldn't understand the why. Why has pink mask decided to do this?
Holding my breath, my heart pounded when her hands met behind her back at the clasps of her bra. The wait was excruciating as I watched her flip each of the three hooks open. My cock was straining so hard it was a bit painful. Her hands let go of the bra. With a slight flick, her shoulder straps slid towards her elbows.
My view of the mirror allowed me to admire her exposed torso. My cock twitched when pink mask's bra slipped from her peaks. Wiggling her arms, the bra joined the blouse on the floor. She caressed each nipple then put her hands behind her neck. Her eyes never left her boobs. Neither did mine. My mouth was suddenly dry and I licked my lips.
After a minute, pink mask moved her hands to the right side of her skirt. One hand held the skirt firm, and the other slid the zipper down. With no notable movement, the skirt joined the laundry pile. The pantyhose did little to hide the white outline of her bikini panties.
Hooking her thumbs on the insides of the pantyhose, she worked the hose down her legs. Bending slightly at her waist, her round and firm ass wiggled a little. Stepping out with the right foot, and then the left, she discarded the pantyhose. I think I saw her smirk in my direction. She knew what this was doing to me.
Closing her eyes, her right hand slipped under the confines of her panties, and lingered for several seconds. Slowly pushing her panties down, a very neatly groomed landing strip reflected in my direction. What a lovely body. It's not like I've seen all that many nudes, but I found nothing wrong with this one.
