Part 4 by Castgimp

We were silent together in the elevator as we rode up to the fourth floor, and silent too as we walked down the hallway together to my room. For the life of me I had no idea what was going to happen once we were inside the room, but I was certainly going to let Scott take the lead. I would offer him a drink, and see where things went. On the one hand I was sure that this was headed in a sexual direction, and on the other hand, my radar was telling me to proceed with great caution. I figured I could probably outrun a guy with a broken ankle-providing I could get away before he whacked me in the head with one of his crutches. Even so, I wasn't going to be the one to make the first move.Once I'd unlocked the door, Scott asked almost immediately if he could use the rest room. I could hear him through the bathroom door as he started to take a leak. I wanted to give him as much privacy as possible, so I walked to the far side of the room and was staring out the window into the dark rain-swept night when he came out of the bathroom. I turned around to face him, thinking I would offer him a drink from the mini-bar, and what I saw made my jaw drop. Scott was crutching toward me completely naked. At that moment he was undoubtedly the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. He was spectacular to look at-lean and fit and well muscled and nearly hairless except for his crotch. His crutches seemed to grow organically out of his arms, and they seemed to be as much a part of his natural body as any other piece of his anatomy. His cast too seemed almost to grow naturally out of his knee, as if his ankle had always been encased in white fiber. The contrast of the white cast against his skin made him seem almost more naked than if there had been nothing at all covering his ankle. He moved slowly and deliberately across the hotel carpeting, but with the unmistakable grace of an athlete. In fact the way he carried himself on his crutches seemed to accentuate his innate athleticism. He was the archetype of the injured athlete. He was every injured jock on crutches that I'd ever fallen in love with in high school and college. And his dick was half-hard and bouncing in front of him. As his strong arms carried him toward me on his crutches, it seemed to me that each time he swung his cast forward his cock grew a little firmer, so that by the time he came to a stop eighteen inches in front of me he was completely hard. Gone were any doubts I had harbored about whether or not this was going to turn sexual. Instinctively I dropped to my knees. We still had not exchanged a single word when I took his hard cock into my mouth. His cock was lovely, but not so big that it gagged me. I comfortably took the whole length of his cock into my mouth, cradling his balls in my hand and pulling on his scrotum to force his dick all the way into the back of my throat. Scott stood there on one foot, bracing himself with his crutches, and pumped his hips into my face, sliding his dick in and out of my mouth as I laved it with my saliva and caressed it with my tongue and lips. I was afraid that Scott would lose his balance and fall, but he seemed as steady on his crutches as another man would have been on two feet-and maybe even more so. His right foot and his two crutches gave him three points of contact with the earth, forming a tripod to support him. He used the crutches for leverage and slammed his hips more and more forcefully into my face, his cock banging against the back of my throat as his cast swung freely between us, its hard fiber edge occasionally banging me in the chest. Scott seemed to growl as his thrusting increased, and suddenly I found myself gulping and swallowing as he shot ropes of white jism into my mouth.My own cock was still rock-hard, untouched by either one of us, but immediately I started trying to calculate how long it would take for Scott to get dressed and disappear. I'd participated in too many anonymous blow-jobs in my day not to recognize one when I could so clearly see it coming. Big (allegedly) straight guy, hot for a blow-job, cums in your face and then disappears, leaving you to jerk yourself off with his semen still sticky on your face. It was all too humiliating to contemplate. All that anticipation, all that fantasizing about Scott and his cast, and then one quick blow job and he would disappear forever. For as much time as we'd spent together on that airplane, he still felt like an unknown entity, and my own self-doubts had begun to get the best of me. I couldn't even bring myself to look up at him as he slowly withdrew his softening cock from my mouth. I was bracing myself for his hasty retreat. Instead I was surprised by the soft touch of his hand on my face. "That was great man. Thanks. I really needed that." For at least the third time that night I was completely surprised by the turn of events, but I was still unprepared to acknowledge that I might actually be dealing with a genuinely nice guy here. I was just too conditioned to the inevitability of being walked out on. I still figured he was on his way out the door. "Well at least he's polite," I thought. "Most guys take off without even saying thank-you." I stood up, hoping my knees wouldn't crack the way they usually do. "Now, what are we going to do with that?" Scott lifted one crutch and brushed it up against my straining cock. "Umm. You got any suggestions?" I was suddenly bashful. "You got a condom?" "Um. Yeah. I think so." I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "Why don't you get it?" "O.K. I'll be right back." My hard cock bounced in front of me as I headed to the bathroom to retrieve a condom. Maybe he was going to consent to blow me if I wore a condom. I could live with that. I was willing to exchange one anonymous blow-job for another. I half-way expected Scott to be gone when I went back out into the room, notwithstanding the fact that I could clearly see his clothes lying in a pile on the bathroom floor. Instead, when I returned to the bedroom, condom in hand, Scott had climbed up on the end of the bed where he was kneeling on all fours. His crutches were lying on the floor next to the bed, and his ass was facing me at about chest level. His feet were bent down over the edge of the bed, the ninety-degree angle of his cast hugging the edge of the bed where his foot met his ankle. "Climb on up, pardner. This here bronco's ready for a wild ride." He'd adopted an exaggerated cowboy accent and a rodeo affect that was charming and sexy and once again totally unexpected. And so I mounted my Marine. There is no other way to say it. I climbed up on the edge of the bed, knelt between Scott's legs, rolled the condom over my dick, and lubed up his ass-hole with my saliva. As I entered him from behind his ass was tight, but it yielded to my dick. This was clearly not the first time that Scott had been fucked. As I thrust forward, Scott pushed his ass back to meet my hips, and as I withdrew, he pulled his hips forward, so that my dick slid nearly all of the way out each time. We quickly found a rhythm that was natural and comfortable. I grabbed his hips and pulled myself into him. Scott responded by coming up on his knees so that we were both kneeling on the end of the bed, my chest to his back. I wrapped my arms around his chest and thrust up and into him. My left calf rested against his cast, the rough fiber abrading my skin as we parried and pumped. We picked up our speed and then inevitably, try as I might to prolong our lovemaking forever, I came with a fierce body-shuddering orgasm, and we both collapsed down onto the bed in a sweaty heap. Afterwards, after we'd untangled our sweaty bodies and pulled back the bedspread, we lay there together on top of the clean white hotel sheets, not speaking, but enjoying the intimacy of being together. At least I was trying to enjoy the intimacy. I had no idea what was going on in Scott's head, and that was bugging me. He was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling, completely naked except for the cast on his ankle. I was watching him breathe-watching his chest rise and fall with each inhalation and exhalation. I still doubted somehow the reality of the situation. Scott's ease with our lovemaking confused me further, and I began to doubt even that he was whom he said he was. Why would a Marine with a broken ankle choose to spend his first night of medical leave in a hotel making love with me? I even began to doubt his story about breaking his ankle in Maine. The fact that he had a different cast and different crutches than he had on the airplane two days earlier still seemed odd. Maybe the cast and crutches and his life in the military was all made up. His story about trying to jump over the hurdles on his high school track in the middle of the night seemed somehow familiar to me. Where had I heard that story before? Never content to simply enjoy the silence, I felt the need to say something. I wanted to somehow validate that what was happening was real and not imagined or made up. "That was nice," I started. It was the only thing I could think of to say. "Yeah." Not much of a response, but at least he didn't disagree. "Somehow I didn't think you were gay...I mean when we were on the airplane." "I'm not gay. I don't think of myself that way." Scott turned his head to look at me. His face was rigid and his eyes narrowed fiercely. "In my job that's not an option." "I'm sorry...I just thought...." I was such a fuck-up. "I just like mixing it up with another guy once in a while. And you don't spend as much time as I have on military bases and on aircraft carriers without learning to take it up the butt. And without learning to enjoy it." Now the smile was returning to his face. "I liked you as soon as we met Mark. You're a nice guy. Handsome man. I liked talking to you on the plane. I wanted to see what you'd look like with your clothes off." "I hope you weren't disappointed." I was trying to regain the ground I'd lost. "Do I look like a disappointed man? You seem to know your way around a man's butt. And you like me. I can tell. I like being with somebody who likes me. And you seem to like my broken ankle. I don't know what that's all about but it's pretty hot." "I don't understand that myself." Now this was a direction I didn't think the conversation had been heading towards. I decided to jump in with both feet. "It's been that way ever since I was a kid. I see a man on crutches with a busted leg or a busted ankle and I get all worked up." I'd never said that to anyone before. "Yeah? Cool. I'll tell you, when I woke up on the airplane and saw you grinding away, fucking my cast, that was just about the hottest goddamn thing I'd ever seen. That was fucking hot. That's when I knew I wanted to spend some naked time with you." "Yeah well I knew I wanted to spend some naked time with you long before that. When I was checking in for my flight I saw you across the airport on your crutches. That was hot." "No shit? You saw me in the airport?" "I almost got out of line to follow you. I couldn't believe my luck when we ended up sitting next to each other on the airplane.""Must be fate." He reached over and laid his hand on my chest."Or something like that." I reached over with my hand and touched his chest. Mine was hairy and his was smooth. My legs were hairy and his were smooth. More than anything I wanted to roll over and kiss this man. For all our fucking around we hadn't kissed-hadn't even come close. I didn't know if Marines who aren't gay but who like mixing it up with other guys kiss each other. I didn't know if that somehow crossed some invisible line into the taboo-if that somehow might compromise one's masculinity more than taking another guy's dick in your mouth or up your ass. Now was the perfect time to kiss. Quiet, post-coital pillow talk. An intimate space. With any other guy I'd have propped myself up on my elbow, planted my face above his, and kissed him. But I didn't want to push it. I'd come too close to screwing this up already. Scott made no move to kiss me, and so I contented myself with resting our hands on each other's chests. That seemed to be something that he was comfortable with. And so that's how we fell asleep. When I woke up the next morning Scott was still asleep next to me. His cast was sticking out from the end of the sheet, and I lay there for a while simply admiring the man in bed next to me, and marveling that he was still there. Even after everything that had happened, I would not have been surprised if he had somehow disappeared in the middle of the night. I hated to get out of bed, but I had to get up and get showered. I had a nine o'clock meeting that I had to be at. I tried to climb out from under the sheet without waking Scott, but as soon as I moved his eyes popped open. They looked startled for a minute, as he tried to figure out where he was. As he turned his head to look at me I could see that it took him a moment to figure out who I was, but then he smiled. "Hey handsome," he said. "Good morning." "Morning. Sorry I woke you. I have to get showered. I've gotta run to a meeting this morning. I don't know what your plans are for the day, but you're welcome to stay here." "I have no plans man. I'm just taking things one day at a time.""You should go back to sleep. I should be back around lunch time." The idea of coming back from my meetings and finding Scott waiting for me in bed with his leg up was dreamy. One day at a time sounded just fine to me. I was trying to calculate whether maybe there was a way I could extend my trip by a few days. "You wouldn't want to help a poor crippled boy take a shower before you go, would you? I know it's a lot to ask, but that's something I can't seem to do on my own. And I'm feeling kind of grungy. Kind of crusty, if you know what I mean." He flashed a smile at me that was so sexy and tender that he managed to melt my heart and stiffen my dick all at once. Of course I would help this man shower, even if it meant I would be late for my meeting. "Sure. We can get cleaned up together. Sounds like it might even be fun." I was trying not to be embarrassed by my sudden hard-on. Scott pulled back the sheet and revealed his own morning hard-on."Looks like somebody's got company," he grinned. I handed him his crutches and he followed me into the bathroom. I had to press my semi-hard dick down toward the toilet bowl to take a leak. Somehow, I didn't feel the least bit self-conscious about forcing a morning hard-on piss right there in front of Scott. When I was done I turned my attention to starting the shower the adjusting the water temperature while Scott crutched up to the toilet and with amazing balance aimed his semi-tumescent cock toward the bowl and took a long hard morning piss of his own. "You ready to give this a try?" I asked him. "I think so." And then "Oh, Shit. I don't suppose you have a big plastic bag of some sort. I forgot I'm not supposed to get this thing wet." "Shit. I don't think so. Let me see what I can find in the room. Maybe they have one of those big plastic laundry bags that will work." I checked the closets. The laundry bags they provided looked too small. There were no plastic garbage bags in the small hotel trashcans either. I was set on the idea of showing with Scott, and I was not going to be defeated by lack of a plastic bag. Desperation is the mother of invention, and genius struck just in time. I had returned to the closet for one last futile look when I saw all of my clean, pressed, dress clothes hanging there in perfectly good plastic dry-cleaner bags. They weren't perfect but I would make them work. I took them carefully off my suit and off my dress shirts and brought them with me back into the bathroom, which by this time was starting to get steamy from the shower that had been running all this time. "This is the best I can do but I think we can make them work." I put the seat down on the toilet and Scott parked his ass on top of it and held up his ankle. I wrapped the cast in plastic and tried to tie it off at the top, but it looked to me like it wasn't really going to be watertight. I needed some tape. I rummaged though my shaving kit and found a partial role of grungy white athletic tape that I'd used years ago to tape a bum ankle of my own. There was just enough left to wrap the tape twice around his leg. I tried to keep the tape on the plastic and off of his skin, as I knew from experience that it hurt like hell when you ripped it off. We decided that it was probably enough of a seal for a quick shower. "Memo to self," I thought, "buy some plastic garbage bags." The mechanics of trying to wrap his cast in plastic had deflated both our cocks, and our mutual shower had now turned from a sexy romp into something much more practical. We both needed to get cleaned up, and time was rapidly passing. I was trying to calculate how late I could actually be to my meeting without it being a total disaster. We decided I should climb into the shower first, and have him follow me. While I stood under the stream of hot water, Scott propped his crutches against the wall, sat on the edge of the tub, and pivoted on his butt so that he was facing me. I carefully helped him stand up on one foot, and we managed to maneuver our bodies so that we were both standing under the water. As we stood facing each other, I spread my legs apart to give us a broader support base. He rested his hands on my shoulders for balance, which freed up my hands to soap and shampoo both of us. It felt amazingly good to run my hands over his smooth, wet, muscled body, lathering his chest and back and ass, his cock and balls. It didn't take much of that for both of us to become fully hard again. I was earnestly trying to get both of us cleaned up-soaped and rinsed-without getting sexual, but it was almost impossible. We were both completely aroused and there seemed to be no turning back. Scott started to run his hands over my chest while I played with his hard cock in the spray of the shower. Then he moved his hands back to my shoulders, and then down my back, gently pulling me towards him. I leaned slowly into him, pressing our chests together and bracing my feet against the sides of the tub so that we wouldn't topple over. And then Scott moved his open mouth to mine. It was warm and wet and gentle. I opened my mouth to his and he probed my mouth with his tongue as his rough beard-stubble pressed against my wet face. So Marines do kiss other men, I marveled. Nothing could have surprised me more. All of my doubts from the night before vanished. I was about as close to heaven as I thought I would ever get. I was in California, sharing a shower with a handsome naked Marine with a cast on his broken ankle, and the man was gently, lovingly, mashing his wet open mouth into mine. I moved my hands to his ass, and let my right hand trail down and into the crack between his cheeks. His ass was still soapy, and I slid my slippery middle finger into his tight asshole. He moaned audibly, and ground his hips against me, pressing his hard cock firmly against my lower abdomen. I pushed my finger in further, up to my second knuckle. As I probed Scott's ass with my finger, he rocked his hips and I could feel his plastic-covered cast knocking against my leg. I was grinding my own soapy cock against Scott's abdomen, and trying to pull him even closer, maximizing our skin-to-skin contact. Our mouths were still locked together in oral combat. Suddenly I was about to cum, and I could tell by Scott's breathing and his increased moaning that he was also very near the edge. And then...oh fuck! I wish I could say that what happened next was that I experienced the biggest most explosive orgasm of my life. But that's not what happened. In fact neither one of us came that morning. There was an explosion, but it wasn't sexual. It happened so fast that it is impossible for me now to recreate in my mind exactly what went wrong. Whether I slipped or Scott slipped or we both slipped at the same time, I don't know. All I know is that one moment we were standing there in the shower sucking face and humping each other's soapy bellies like there was no tomorrow, and the next moment it was like the floor had suddenly been pulled out from under us. I was lying on the floor of the bathtub and Scott was on top of me, our arms and legs a tangle of wet human limbs. We fell hard enough that it knocked the wind out of me, and I was struggling to breathe and choking on the water I was trying to gasp into my startled lungs. Scott too was sputtering, and his arms were flailing in front of him, as if to stave off the spray of water. One of his hands eventually connected with the shower control knob and he managed to turn the water off. We were both trying to catch our breaths when I felt the first wave of pain in my leg. "Oh God Scott my leg!" Now suddenly the pain was blinding. "What?!?" "My leg!" "What?!" He was trying to scramble backwards off of me, but he was stuck. The way we had fallen we were all tangled up. His cast was bent underneath him, and was directly on top of my left leg. In the awkward position we were in, he couldn't get the leverage he needed to back off of me. "Scott, Jesus, get off my leg!" I was screaming by this point and started to pound his thigh with my fist. There was an intense, shooting pain in my leg, and all I could think of was getting Scott off of me. Finally he managed to pull his cast free and spider-crawl backwards. As he moved off my leg, I experienced a wave of pain so intense I thought I would throw up. I had to hold onto the side of the tub to keep from passing out. It now became painfully clear to me what had happened. As we fell, Scott's cast had come down hard directly on my left shin just below my knee. Scott was still trying to figure out what had happened. "Are you OK? Jesus! What?" "Oh God my leg! Fuck! I think it's broken!" "Fuck! No way!" "Yes! Oh Fuck! Goddamn it! Where your cast came down on top of me. Oh fuck it hurts!" "No way! It can't be broken!" Scott was still in denial. "Oh God. You gotta help me. Or get some help. I'm really hurt. I think my fucking leg is broken!" I tried using my hands to shift my weight and was crippled by another blow of shooting pain. "I can't...I can't really move Scott." "Oh shit." I could see Scott's face go pale. "I gotta get out of here!" "What?!?" Scott was scrambling out of the tub. He grabbed his crutches and pulled himself to his feet. "I gotta get out of here. I can't be here." He was reaching for a towel. "You gotta help me Scott." I couldn't make sense of what was happening. "I can't be here when they come. I'm sorry Mark. I'm really sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am. But they're going to send an ambulance. And the police will come. The hotel will call them. And there will be an accident report. For insurance purposes. And I can't be here." He was struggling into his clothes, which were still in a pile on the bathroom floor from the night before. He didn't even try to get into his underwear. Instead, bracing himself against the closed toilet seat, he jammed his wet legs into his pants, forcing the cast through when it got stuck. His hair was still dripping wet. The reality of what was happening was beginning to dawn on me. "You can't leave me here like this Scott. My fucking leg is broken!""I know man. It sucks. I wish it could be different. But I have got to get my ass out of here." He'd pulled his shirt over his head and was trying to get his right foot into the boot he'd been wearing the night before. I couldn't believe this was happening. "Listen. You gotta at least get me some help. At least call 911 for me on your way out of here man." "I can't fucking do that! I can't be associated with this!" Scott was screaming at me. He pulled himself up on his crutches and stared down at me in the tub. I was naked and wet and my leg was broken. I was cold and starting to shake. I must have looked pathetic. "You are so beautiful," he said as he looked down at me, his voice softening. "And I am so sorry. You must think I am such as ass-hole." "It's OK." I didn't know what else to say. I couldn't not forgive him. He was so beautiful too. My shaking was starting to get worse, and the more I shook, the worse my leg felt. I closed my eyes. "Here." He threw two towels down on top of me. "Try to cover yourself. So you don't go into shock. And don't pass out. We'll get you some help. Somehow. I would stay if I could Mark. But I can't. There is no way to explain my presence here. Medical leave or not, if they find me here and they will throw my ass out of the Marines faster than you can shit your pants. It's no joke. It's my whole career man. It's all I've got." And I did understand. Even lying there naked in the bathtub with a broken leg I did understand. The fucking military would crucify him if word got out that he'd been in my hotel room. Even if we could think up some plausible explanation, they wouldn't have to dig very far. I was out in every aspect of my life. I was a known homosexual. Fucking don't ask and fucking don't tell. Fuck the whole goddamn military. I knew he had to go. "I know Scott. You go. You have to. I understand. I'll manage.""You're a good guy Mark. You're a fucking good guy." "Yeah well I don't feel very good at the moment. Get your ass out of here. But before you go, hand me that goddamn telephone, would you?" There was a phone on the wall next to the toilet. I never really understood why hotels had phones in the bathroom like that. Did people really make telephone calls while they were on the shitter? Or take calls while they shaved? It never made sense to me. Now I was grateful for that stupid phone. "Just hand it to me man. I won't use it until you're out of the building. I'll give you time to get away. I promise man." "Shit. Here you go." He handed me the phone, stretching the cord over the toilet and into the tub. I was relieved. I thought he might balk at it-balk because there would be no way for me to explain how I reached all the way across the room for the phone, stuck as I was in the bathtub with a broken leg. But he didn't hesitate to hand it to me. I took the receiver from him, holding my hand over the button that would eventually connect me with the outside world. "Thanks man. Now go. I'll count slowly to 300 before I call. I promise. And I won't blow your cover. I'll tell them I slipped in the shower and hit my leg on the side of the tub. No one will know you were here." "Thanks man. Thanks for understanding. And I'm really sorry about your leg." He turned to go. "Scott!" I said, calling him back. "Will I see you again?" "I don't know man. I just don't know. I don't think so." And with that he turned and left. I watched him crutch away from me into the dark hotel room, and then I heard the door slam behind him.I couldn't imagine not seeing him again. So as it turned out my fantasy Marine with the broken ankle and that beautiful plaster cast that I'd had sitting on my lap all the way to California-he hadn't beaten the shit out of me in my hotel room as I'd feared the night before. But he had inadvertently broken my leg. And then he'd broken my heart. And now it seemed almost inevitable that before the day was out I was going to end up in a cast of some sort. I closed my eyes again and started to count, trying not to focus on the intense raw throbbing pain in my leg. Part 5

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