She opened the apartment door for me and took off her leather jacket inside. I unzipped and peeled off my hoodie.
"I'll get the alcohol," she said.
I kicked off my shoes and then joined her in the bathroom. I sat on the toilet seat and let her position my head for the best light to inspect my bloodied lip. I noticed a very slight cut on her own lower lip.
"It's not too bad," she said, delicately pressing around it. She dabbed it with a cotton ball wet with alcohol. I flinched at the initial sting. After a few dabs, she set it aside and began lifting my t-shirt. "Let's check you out."
I lifted my arms as best I could, at the moment, and let her pull the shirt over my head. She ran her fingers over my back, as she looked for any wounds, and then inspected my front.
"You know, it's been a long-time fantasy of mine to have a beautiful woman treat my battle wounds."
She smiled. "I'd be lying if I said I haven't imagined it, myself." She paused. "But it was a guy treating MY battle wounds."
"Oooh. Interesting. You do have a little cut on your lip, you know."
"It's nothing. Didn't even bleed," she said, almost disappointed. "I don't see anything. Any place sore?"
"Something jabbed me here," I said, lightly rubbing the front of my shoulder. "Not sure if it will bruise, though."
"Nothing there now," she affirmed. "Let's see those ribs." I moved my arms out of her way. "Does this hurt," she asked, lightly moving her fingers over my ribcage.
"No. Feels good."
She smiled a little. "How 'bout this?" She pressed just a little harder.
"Still mostly nice," I said.
"Probably just bruised, then, " she assured. "There's blood on your pants," she said in a more concerned tone. "And a hole."
"I think something sharp in the trash stabbed me a little."
"Stabbed you 'a little'? Stand up." I stood and she began unbuckling my belt. I began to feel a little aroused, but I kept my mind on other things.
Unbuttoned. Unzipped. She lowered them, and herself with them. I lifted my feet one at a time so she could set my pants aside, out of the way.
She lifted her eyes to where the wound was located, and I could see the realization in her eyes that it was behind my boxer briefs, very near my crotch, and that there was only one way that she could properly inspect it.
She looked me in the eyes and stood up. Stared a moment, then took my hand and led me into the bedroom.
She turned on the light and positioned me at the foot of the bed, facing away from it.
Her hands on my shoulders, she kissed my lips, then my shoulder. My chest. My stomach. Her hands traveling with her, and she lowered herself into a kneeling position.
She slid her hands down my thighs and back up to my hips. She kissed just above the waistband. Just below the waistband. A bit lower. As if to meet her half way, my arousal surged.
She set a prolonged kiss on my bulge, and another slightly shorter one further down.
She looked me in the eyes, briefly, then focused on her task of slowly peeling down my underwear.
When my trimmed hair was uncovered, she paused and ran her fingers through it a moment. She pulled the band down far enough further to expose my first couple of inches from my base and kissed it.
Two more inches. She pressed her head against me right above my base, the initial arch of my shaft conforming to the shape of her nose. I felt the breath from her open mouth as she exhaled slightly faster than normal.
She kissed my skin. Wanting escape, my groin muscles involuntarily flexed causing my shaft to move a little beneath her.
Multiple times, the tip of her tongue flicked out, indecisively.
She nestled her nose along the left side, and then moved the right hand over the remaining covered bulge. She kissed the top of my thigh and then pulled my waistband down from the back with her left hand.
I groaned a little as the material rubbed downward across my fresh wound. That little pain was short-lived and soon forgotten after the material released my full length into the care of her right palm.
Her eyes still hidden, she began moving her fingers over and around my shaft, causing me to let out a sigh. I tilted my head back and closed my eyes, taking in the sensation as she explored. A little tingle went up my spine. Two fingers traced the underside to the head.
Soon the exploration became light stroking, up and down and around.
"Oh, yes," I whispered.
She paused the stroking, and just held, as she pulled her head away from me. I opened my eyes and looked down to see what she was doing.
Completely ignoring the wound and the light smear of drying blood near her hand, she stared at my length and began running fingers of both hands along either side, from base to tip. Back to one hand stoking, as the other lightly grazed the back of my scrotum.
She was staring at the tip, expectantly, while her fingers worked. Her stroking became a little slower, and a little firmer.
Soon a drop of pre-cum oozed out. A little smile formed on her face. One slightly firmer stroke coaxed out a small surge. She quickly moved her left hand to catch the drop as it fell.
She wondered at how it remained connect by a thin string to the tip in spite of being inches away. She lowered her hand to see if the connection would break, but it did not. She moved her hand out sideways, but it stretched even further.
"Oh, wow," she said quietly. She released with her right hand and pushed the string with the top of her first two fingers, stretching it further still.
