As age creeps up on the best of us, the past couple of years have demonstrated to me that you can not depend on continued perfect physical health even when you do exercise daily. I always expected to have no concerns at all. Then, in the middle of a basketball game at the rec center, my jump shot from the corner of the key went through, but I went down. My foot landed on the bridge of my opponents foot, and the ankle in that instant moment of time decided that its' best option was to, as the doctor described it, "complete a pure ankle dislocation", popping the foot free of the socket and wrapping the tendons around the leg bone. The leg muscles contracted, pulling the foot up to mid-calf. The pain was excruciating, but seeing the foot literally hanging on the inside of my leg was flat out gross. And I learned an important lesson. The pain was minimal to my next thought. Push the dangling foot back in place with the good remaining foot. Trust me, wrong decision. Blackness clouded the brain, guys were holding me down. One guy was shouting, "I'm a doctor, hold still. Somebody support his leg." People were scrambling.
Ever the jock, I understood pain and things calmed down as several guys held me down on the floor and others ran to call an ambulance. I started telling the guys "I must have been fouled", trying to bring some levity to the situation. I was not given any foul shots.
An hour and a half later, doctors had literally pulled my foot down my leg once without being able to get it back in place. After a giant needle with muscle relaxant, a second try popped it back in place. That pain sequence is another chapter not relevant here.
This took months of rehab to strengthen the ankle before I felt comfortable with the aid if an ankle brace playing over 60-softball or tennis or even basketball, but I was able to get back to some regularity in my expected routines.
Then just before Christmas, I took a header from the lower steps of my basement, testing a newfound flight pattern to land directly flush on my shoulder, driving the arm into socket hard. Pain again, the second week I was screaming for a doctor, the third week I got to the orthopedic doctor, the fourth week after the fall I got the MRI, the back to the orthopedic doctor to hear about a torn rotator cuff, labrum damage, bicep tendon tear and a large bone spur. Great, as we said in college football "Doctor Knife time".
Being somewhat helpless, my oldest daughter and son-in-law offered me their basement guest bedroom during my recovery. My daughter is now 38, 6 feet tall and about 160 lbs after having children. She was a top notch athlete during her high school and college days, but now inactive and a mother, more soft than her younger days. I have shrunk 2-inches since my prime, now standing 6'4" tall, weigh 250 lbs, gaining 30 since my lack of activity. Now, months later, arm and shoulder is nearing recovery.
Just after breakfast one morning after the grandsons had left for school, I opted to take a nap. No more thought than that. Drowsing my daughter popped in to see if I needed anything. She was rubbing her neck fairly hard. I inquired if she was ok. "Stiff neck leading to a headache" she volunteered.
"Come, lay down here with me, I'll rub your back and neck," I offered.
"Dad, that would be great!" she said as she moved to the bed. Now, we are on the top of the comforter, with a light blanket over us as the room is cool. Dressed for the day, each of us are wearing sweats and t-shirts. Laying on her tummy, she stretches out, arms crossed under her head. I reach to her, slide my hand under her t-shirt and begin a slow, deliberate back rub, paying close attention to her neck and shoulders. Her bra strap interrupts a smooth transition down her back.
"If you need to Dad, unhook the thing. This is really helping," Kay stated matter of fact.
"Sure," I responded without a second thought. I continued rubbing her back, shifting slightly further to my left side. I was now touching her left side all the way along our bodies. No thought of it until my hips arched forward to press against her hip. Nothing said, but my mind jumped into full gear. Little brain awoke, my cock engorged without any forethought to a chubbed size. I could feel her body with him pressing against her. My hand involuntarily traversed across her shoulder blades, down over her right side, feeling the side of her smashed titty. My fingertips caressed back and forth over the soft skin.
"Daddy," Kay mumbled softly as her body shifted, her right side rising ever so slightly. I pulled my hand back slightly, felt her shift, and pushed down again, letting my fingers begin to push under the ribs, feeling the soft skin of her breast. My fingertips circled, pressing firmly. I slid my hand down her body, up over her sweats to caress her right hip and cheek of her ass as I massaged, pulling my hand back to her center, to her left cheek, up her back to slide down her left side to feel the soft flesh of her other mashed tit. Her head turned my way.
"God Daddy, this is so nice," she whispered. "Don't stop yet!" she whispered. I continued my massage, my mind wandering, losing focus. I pushed my hips to her so she could feel my firmly against her. My right leg moved to rest on her ass, my body now firmly against her. I could barely breath. My thoughts ran rampant. What was happening? I let go, rubbing her more firmly, reaching to gather soft flesh firmly in my hand, squeezing, grabbing more softly, repeating. Her breathing became louder, groans became softly audible. Her body lifted side to side as my fingertips touched the sides of her breasts. I pushed hard to get more tit flesh under my fingers, slowly, deliberately but non-intrusive unless she wanted me too. I pushed my hand down her back, pressing hard to the small of her back, flowing down her crack softly, over left cheek with fingertips caressing down her crack, around the curve of her ass under my leg. Her butt lifted with each caress, hips arching just slightly. Each time, I pressed my now harder cock to her hip.
