Crash N Burn Ch 02

Note: This is the second of a six-part series. I recommend that readers read part 1 first.

HELPING HANDS

My situation was completely my own fault, and I knew it. I had been upset that my step-cousin, Estelle, was coming to live with us and our camping trip was cancelled as a result. I should have just dealt with the disappointment, but instead I had taken my bike out for a reckless ride. When I woke up in the hospital over a week later, I learned how badly I had damaged myself. Of course, some of the injuries may not be noticed immediately, and Estelle had just helped me to attend my first trip back to see the neurologist. On the bright side, I had no loss of motion or sensation due to the concussion. My memory hadn't been quite as fortunate, but I wasn't sure yet what that would mean for me.

It was only early afternoon when we got home. Estelle helped me onto the recliner, then kissed my cheek and ran upstairs. I fell asleep almost immediately, waking as she sat on the wheelchair and placed a hand on my left shoulder.

"All right. Now, with me being so close and helping you with everything, you've been getting all worked up for the past week. But you haven't been able to do anything about it and were under orders not to get too excited. Now that you've get the doctor's permission to, as she said, increase your activity, I'm offering to help out."

"Um, what, exactly, do you mean by help out?" I had a few thoughts running through my mind on what it might mean.

"I can give you a hand. You know, relieve the stress a bit." She brought her other hand from behind her back. It was holding a tube of KY Jelly. "Would you like me to help?"

"Oh, hell, yeah."

She leaned forward and kissed me. When she sat back, she stayed leaning forward so I could see down her top. I was positive that she had been wearing a bra when we went out, but she sure wasn't now. Her small, pert tits were hanging gorgeously inside the loose blouse. Her light pink nipples seemed to be bigger than I had seen before.

"You just relax. I'll be doing all the work for now."

She opened my robe and slid the hospital gown up. Mom had arranged for a few of them to be smuggled home, and Estelle changed me every morning when she gave me a sponge bath. The first morning she did that, I had been extremely self-conscious. In part, because I could not control my erection. But she had pretty much ignored it, wiping me in a very professional manner -- though I did notice that her attention was drawn to my erect cock from time to time. As the days went by, we each got more comfortable with it, though I had always had an erection whenever she was bathing me, and she would occasionally play a bit with my cock and balls. But never enough to get my heart going too fast. Mom had taken over my bathing on the weekend, but I had been blessedly flaccid for her.

As soon as my groin was uncovered, my cock sprang up. I heard an intake of breath, then she surprised me by kissing the tip of my cock. Estelle squirted a bit of lubricant on her hand, then wrapped it around my swollen member. I jerked as she made contact, worried for a moment that I would come before she could do anything. Then her hand began to slowly slide up and down. I closed my eyes and let my head fall against the seat back. She was moving tantalizingly slowly, the only reason I had not exploded yet. But I couldn't last for long, and warned her when I was getting close.

Estelle took her hand away and wiped my cock with a warm, damp cloth. Then she dropped her head down and engulfed my shaft in her mouth. The hot warmth caused me to come immediately, filling her mouth with my jizz. My hips drove up at her as she struggled to swallow my load. I was surprised at how long I continued ejaculating, but she forced herself to keep her lips wrapped around me until I finished. When she sat up, she had white goo streaming from her nostrils and the corner of her mouth. Her eyes were red and tears were rolling down her cheeks.

"Are you okay, Stelle?"

She smiled, wiping the corner of her mouth and licking her fingers clean. As she stood up, I saw that she had her other hand between her legs. She removed it and placed her sticky fingers in my mouth. The taste was amazing, and enough to make me harden again.

"Yeah," she said coarsely. "You had a little more in the tank than I expected."

"You didn't have to swallow."

She moved closer. "I wanted to. Didn't you like it?"

"Yeah, I liked it a lot."

She leaned in, her lips almost touching mine. "I'm glad. Feeling better?"

"Way better. Thanks."

She kissed me, her tongue sliding into my mouth and giving me a taste of my cum. The jizz that had come out of her nose had been smeared on my cheek, but I wasn't going to complain. She broke off after nearly half a minute. "My pleasure. But we'd better get cleaned up before your mom gets home. Happy birthday, Cole."

She arranged my clothes so I was covered and wiped my face with her cloth. Then she kissed my cheek and ran upstairs. In the afterglow of her blowjob, I quickly fell back to sleep.

When I woke again later in the afternoon, I wasn't sure whether I had dreamed it or it really happened. Estelle was just as attentive to my needs as ever and did not seem to be acting any differently. She offered to help relieve my stress again several times during my recovery, but only used her hands. Once the cast came off my right hand a couple weeks later, she let me deal with it on my own. I never asked about the blowjob, though, not wanting to pressure her to do anything she didn't really want to do. I also did not want to embarrass her by suggesting that we had dome something if it had all been a dream. And despite implying that she would tell me, she did not share what had happened in Angus to make her leave home. I didn't press her on that either.

When Mom came home that night, we shared a nice birthday dinner. As usual, Estelle fed me. They both got me a couple presents, but the one I had received from Estelle in the afternoon was by far the best one I received that year, even if it was all in my head.

***

MIRRORS

I was able to return to school in September, though I was confined to my wheelchair. The casts were gone by then, and my left arm was out of its sling for at least part of the day. I could manage to propel myself from class to class, but my arms weren't up to wheeling in and out of the building. Estelle was always there for me, though, pushing me between classes most of the time even if it made her late for her own class. The teachers quickly found out why she was late and overlooked it as long as it was only a few minutes.

By the end of the year, I was able to walk short distances with a cane. Of course, that meant that I was also able to take care of my own bathing. Once thing that I missed was Estelle's sponge baths. While a shower got me much cleaner, I preferred her touch -- especially when she gave me a little extra attention (something she only did when Mom was out).

The bathroom in our house was a bit strange. It was actually one-and-a-half baths, with a shared tub and a room to either side containing a toilet and sink. A sliding door at each end of the tub area provided privacy. It was a semi-ensuite, with one entrance located in the master bedroom and the other in the hall next to Estelle's room. The master bedroom was the full width of the house at the back, while I had one bedroom at the front, to the left at the top of the stairs. Estelle's room was next to mine, her door facing the bannister over the stairs.

The sliding doors to the tub area had been installed with simple privacy locks, but they were broken when Mom and I moved into the house about ten years earlier. We had never bothered to fix them, coming to the understanding that we would always knock before sliding the door open. We accidentally walked in on each other bathing from time to time, but neither of us made a big deal about it. Mom had tried to dispell the idea that our bodies were sinful, and I had often seen her naked or part-naked growing up. She had somehow known when I started to get sensitive of my own nudity, and I seldom saw her completely nude after I entered my early teens.

We pretty much never locked the outer bathroom doors either, though Estelle did initially when she moved in. Since there was no powder room on the main floor, Estelle and I had to leave the 'common' toilet off the hall free if we were bathing. That meant that we'd be in the tub area with both sliding doors pulled closed, which had the bonus of keeping the room quite warm as the steam from the bath was contained in a smaller area. Once she got used to the rhythm of the house, Estelle adopted Mom's way of doing things, often moving between the bath and her room wearing only underwear or a towel. It wasn't unusual for her to pop into my room wearing a long tee shirt and panties. Or, sometimes, just the shirt. I carefully never criticized her attire, though I did try not to stare at her. At least, when Mom was in the room.

I was no longer receiving quite as much personal attention from her, but I began to spend more time watching Estelle. Although she seldom wore excessively revealing clothing in public, she usually had on something that gave a pretty clear view of her shape. But she liked to remove the more uncomfortable garments as soon as she got home -- such as her bra. And it was not uncommon for her to position herself in such a way that I could see a little more than was appropriate -- not that I ever complained abut that either, mind you. She often caught me looking at her, and usually responded with a smile and a wink. Lest anyone think that I was being a creep, she was giving me just as much attention. We made out regularly, but seldom went as far as second base. She wasn't quite ready to go beyond that, and I wasn't pushing her. But we almost always sat touching each other now, often cuddling together on the couch when watching television. We still had not been completely naked with each other.

I was finally given permission to begin cycling in early March, not that the weather was conducive to riding. By the end of the month, though, the weather had improved significantly. On Good Friday, the temperature got up to 17 Celsius at lunch time, and the ground was snow-free. Estelle agreed to go for a ride with me, riding a second-hand bike she had recently picked up. We still had to watch for sand at corners and curbs, but I was thrilled to finally get out again.

Although we didn't push ourselves hard, we ended up riding for nearly an hour, and both of us were tired and sweaty by the time we got home. Mom was at work, dealing with an issue regarding an Easter display at Gage Park, so we had the house to ourselves. Once the bikes were put away, we both wanted to clean up.

"Do you want to go first?" she asked. "I'd like to soak in the bath for a while."

"Sure, I was just going to have a shower. Of course, I'll let you join me if you want."

She laughed, "While that does sound inviting, I don't think so."

I sighed dramatically. "Fine, I'll just take care of myself. I won't be long, and I guess I'll be having a cold shower."

She reached up on her tip-toes and kissed my cheek. "Have fun, babe."

I didn't actually have a cold shower, but it definitely wasn't steaming. Estelle preferred the room to be filled with so much steam that you couldn't see your hand, while I usually went with just warm water. I was quick, not using too much of the hot water. Although tempted, I did not take the time to pleasure myself. When I was done, I turned off the shower and towelled myself off. I then put the plug in the tub and started to fill it with hot water. Wrapping the towel around my waist, I knocked on the sliding door.

"You can come in," I heard, "I'm decent -- mostly."

Sliding the door open, I saw her in front of the mirror, trying to remove the tight braid from her hair. Although she still wore the Tinkerbell ponytail-bun most of the time, Estelle had tied her hair back in a braid for the ride; her usual high hairdo didn't work well with a helmet. She had shucked her riding clothes and was wearing a fluffy cotton bath robe, which was tied loosely at the waist. It was just tight enough to cover her but left the space between her breasts deliciously bare. Her skin was just a couple shades darker than the white robe.

"Need a hand?" I asked, stepping behind her.

"Yeah. The elastic's knotted and I can't get it out."

I took the end of the braid and worked the elastic off. Once that was done, I gently pulled out the braid and straightened her soft blonde hair. I let my hands slide down her arms gently. Glancing in the mirror, I saw that her eyes were bright as she watched me.

"There. Do you need me for anything else? Anything at all? I could join you in the bath and scrub your back."

She smiled coyly as our reflected gazes met. "Nice try. Go get dressed and let me relax in the tub. Alone."

I shrugged and bent forward to kiss her neck. She leaned back into me, her head stretching up as she moaned softly. "As you wish. It's your loss, princess."

"Not fair," she whispered. "You're not allowed to use Princess Bride quotes on me."

"How about Star Wars?"

She gently slapped my hip. "Go away, you scoundrel, before I make you regret it."

My arms slipped loosely around her waist. "Oh, scoundrel. I kinda like the sound of that."

She turned in my embrace, lifting her arms and clasping her hands behind my neck. I didn't think that she had done it intentionally, but the way she turned had caused the robe to pull completely off one breast. I could feel her nipple against my bare skin as she kissed me.

"I don't want a scoundrel. I like nice men."

My hands had slipped down to cup her ass. "I'm nice men."

Her eyes were clouded by confused emotions. I could clearly read desire on her face, but there seemed to be regret and sadness, too.

"I do want you, Cole. But I can't. Not yet."

I dipped my head and gave her a long, hard kiss. I whispered, "I'm not going anywhere, Estelle. You're my little star, and I have no intentions of letting you go."

She gave me a little smile. "Good. Can you wait for me? Just a little longer?"

"Yeah, I can wait a little longer. But just tell me when, and I'm in like Flint."

"I don't want Flint, baby. I want you."

She gave me another peck, then pulled out of my arms. She didn't bother fixing the robe as she backed into the bath area. She winked as she reached for the door with one hand, pulling the belt of her robe loose with the other. For a fraction of a second, I could see her body displayed for me, then the door blocked the view. I heard the water stop as she turned off the taps, then the sound of her entering the bath. I could hear a moan as Estelle slipped into the water. With a smile on my face, I headed to my room to change.

After pulling on some sweats, I lay down on my bed and quickly fell asleep. My dreams were much more vivid than usual. Not surprisingly, Estelle was the focus. I had gone to use the toilet and heard her get out of the tub. I quickly finished, expecting that she would be coming out soon. But instead, I heard a low moan coming from beyond the door. It didn't take me long to recognize the sound as one of pleasure. It was much clearer than when she had gotten into the tub, the sound carrying past the one-inch gap at the bottom of the door.

Glancing at the counter, I saw one of her makeup mirrors lying there. Looking back to the space beneath the door, I collected the mirror and knelt down. I soon found that I had to lie on the floor to see into the other room. But once in position, I got an eyeful. Estelle was lying on the mat in front of the tub. Her head was thrown back and her legs were facing me, spread apart with one hand sliding through the outer lips of her pussy. Her other hand was massaging her small breasts, gently rolling her nipples through her fingers. She would spend a few minutes on one tit, then move to the other. Meanwhile, her right hand was busy. Her fingers would slide down between the lips, picking up sticky, shiny fluid before moving up to a little nub at the top of the folds of skin that surrounded her sex. I could just make out the hint of pale blonde hair under her hand, and if there was any on the lips of her pussy, it was too sparse and fine to see from this distance.

My cock quickly became engorged as I watched her, forcing its way past the waistband of my sweats. Her hands began moving more quickly and her breathing became harsh. I didn't even realize my own hand had moved until I was stroking myself in time with her frigging. Her moans escalated into a scream as her back arched. She was having an orgasm, and the sight triggered mine. I didn't even have time to realize that it was happening, and I shot my load onto the linoleum floor. I don't know if I had made a noise, but I opened my eyes to see the reflection of her pale blue eyes locked on the gap I was peering through. Her face relaxed with a smile, and she let her head slowly drop back to the floor. Her finger slipped just inside her pussy, moving slightly before sliding back out. I could clearly see the wetness as she lifted the hand toward her face. I didn't see it, but I could hear her moan around her fingers as she tasted her cum.

She stretched, her legs straightening and spreading apart again. Then she sat up, still facing me, and started to pull on the robe. She paused, glancing at the door.

"Cole, I forgot my brush in my room." She called out, "Could you bring it to me in the bathroom?"

I slid away from the door as fast as I could without making noise. I covered my mouth with hand as I answered to make it sound like I was farther away. "Be right there."

I thought I heard a giggle as I returned the mirror to the counter and slipped out of the room. I collected her brush, remembering to check that my sweats were in place before returning to the bathroom. She was just stepping past the sliding door, her robe again hanging half-open -- almost, but not quite indecent. I handed her the brush and she smiled, kissing me cheek.

"Thanks, babe. You're the best."

"Yeah. You know, that would make a good song -- Baby You're the Best."

"I think Carly Simon already did that one."

"Really? I don't remember it."

She giggled again as she turned back to face the mirror. "Sure. It was the theme song for The Spy Who Loved Me."

I wrapped my arms around her and kissed her neck. Her arousal was still wafting up from her body, and mine responded immediately.

"God, Stelle. You smell amazing."

She leaned back into me, and I was certain that she could feel my erection. "Must be the Skin So Soft body wash."

"I'm thinking it's just you. I'll be reading in my room if you want to join me."

Her face clouded a bit. "I told you, I'm not ready for sex."

I kissed her temple as I pulled away. "Never said anything about sex. I said that I'll be reading. You're free to bring in a book and read next to me. I just like your company."

Her smile returned. "Maybe I will join you -- after I get dressed."

I returned to my room and picked up the novel I was reading -- Michael Crichton's The Lost World. Although it was written as if the events in the book could actually happen today, I was a bit skeptical that we had enough understanding of genes to successfully create dinosaurs from samples of blood found in several-million-year-old mosquitos. Nevertheless, Jurassic Park had been a standout novel. The sequel just didn't quite have the same spark. It was still an enjoyable read, and I quickly found myself rooting for the dinos. Not long after picking up the book, my dream ended.

#

"Hey, sleepy-head," a soft voice whispered, followed by a kiss on my cheek. "Still want me to join you?"