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."
