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| Part 1 by Castgimp |
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| It had been just another day at work. It was late spring. I was drivinghome, past the university, as I always did. The traffic light at the cornerof Pearl Street was red and I was waiting to turn left. I was not reallypaying attention to what was going on around me. Traffic was heavy, but notmore so than usual. Finally the left arrow light turned green and Ifollowed the cars ahead of me around the corner and onto Pearl. In myperipheral vision I just barely saw him. He was standing on the grassbetween the sidewalk and the road, leaning on his crutches, his foot andankle in a cast, with his thumb out, trying to hitch a ride. I was alreadypast him when the image registered in my brain. I slammed on the brakes andwhipped my head around to make sure I was really seeing what I thought I wasseeing. The guy in the car behind me slammed on his brakes and screechedhis tires, almost hitting me. The boy on the curb was gorgeous. He wasn't aboy, really. He looked like a college student. He was built like anathlete. I saw him long enough to confirm that he definitely was leaning oncrutches and had his ankle in a cast. I looked around frantically forsomewhere to pull over off the road so I could give him a ride, but therewas nowhere to go in the heavy traffic, and the guy behind me was laying onhis horn. I drove on, sick with missed opportunity. As soon as I could I turned right and swung up around the block back towardthe university. I wanted to give this guy a ride. I had to give this guy aride. I was hoping no one else would stop and pick him up before I couldget back to him again. The traffic around the university area was alwaystough this time of night, and it took me almost ten minutes to get back toPearl Street. I was hoping against hope that he would still be there, but Iwas almost sure he would be gone. Certainly someone would have stopped andpicked up this guy by now. A handsome young guy like that, a collegeathlete, standing there with a broken ankle and crutches? He was probablyall the way downtown by now in somebody else's car. Waiting to turn at thelast light, I found myself pounding on the steering wheel, and sweating,frantic to get there before he disappeared. "I should have just stopped," Ikept thinking. Chances like that don't come around twice. I also had anincredible hard-on. Just the sight of this guy and his white plaster castwas enough to make my prick stand straight up. The light ahead of me was turning yellow to red before I could get throughbut I hit the gas and squealed through the intersection anyhow, nearlycausing an accident. "Jesus," I thought to my self. "Get a grip! You'regoing to wreck the car just trying to follow your dick!" My heart waspounding. As soon as I got all the way around the corner I could see thathe was still there. "Thank-you Jesus," I whispered to myself, inhalingdeeply and trying to calm my racing heart. I pulled up right along side ofhim and pulled the car over as close to the curb as I could and stopped. Iwas still blocking traffic. I hit the button next to me and rolled down thepassenger seat window. "You look like you could use a lift!" I yelled out the window. "Thanks man." He moved awkwardly on his crutches down the curb and over tomy car. I swung the door open. "Hop in!" "Thanks. I appreciate it. I thought I was going to stand there all night."He took both crutches in one hand, balancing himself with his other hand onthe roof of the car, and hopped on one foot. He threw the crutches into theback seat and then gingerly maneuvered around so he could lower his buttinto the car. He slid into the front seat, pulling his broken leg in afterhim, and then slammed the door. "You have enough room? I can slide the seat back." "No. I'm fine. Thanks man. I really appreciate the ride. I didn't thinkanyone would stop." "I'm surprised no one picked you up. You'd think standing there on crutchesit would be easy." "You'd think so." I had pulled back out into traffic and was driving down the hill. "Whereyou headed?" "I live in the Woolen Mill, down in Winooski by the river, but anywhere inthis direction is a help." "I can take you all the way there. That's no problem. I live just pastthere myself, past the Duck House restaurant." "Cool. That's great. I'm beat. My hands and arms are killing me. Thesecrutches suck. And my ankle hurts like a sonofabitch. I've been on it allfucking day and I've got to get off it." It was all I could do to drive and keep the car on the road. I wascompletely physically distracted by this guy. He was absolutely drop-deadgorgeous. He couldn't have been a day over 19, or 20 tops. He was lean,and trim, and dark. He was wearing shorts, and a t-shirt. His right anklewas strapped into a white plaster cast and his long toes stuck out from theend of it. "What'd you do to it?" "I fucking busted it." "What happened?" "We were playing touch football on Friday, over at the fraternity house. Iwas going out for a pass and I fucking stepped into a gopher hole. I neversaw it. I was running and looking for the pass and I never fucking saw thehole. I caught my foot in it and twisted my ankle around good and it justsnapped. I could fucking hear it snap. Crack! Just like that." "That must've hurt like hell." "Fucking agony man. Worst pain I ever felt. I thought I was going to passout." I was now in serious danger of wrecking the car. My dick was raging in mypants and starting to leak pre-cum. It was all I could do to keep my handson the steering wheel. I wanted to grab my dick and I wanted to bury myface in this guy's warm sweaty crotch and I wanted to suck on his long toesand instead I was trying to get both of us safely down the hill and throughtown to his apartment. I was trying to keep my eyes on the road but theykept drifting over to his ankle and his toes sticking out of the cast. Everynow and then he would flex his toes, bending them down toward the floor andthen back up. "Does that hurt?" "What?" "Flexing your toes like that." "Yeah, sorta. But I keep doing it. You know when something hurts but youstill keep doing it just to see if it hurts?" "Yeah." "Why did you want to know?" "Why? Oh, I don't know. Just curious I guess." "Did you ever break anything?" "Me? No. I never did." "You're lucky. It fucking sucks. My summer is ruined." "Are you still, you know, are you still in a lot of pain?" "Yeah. It hurts all the time. But especially at the end of the day, likeright now. That's why I was hitching a ride home. My ankle's killing metonight. I've got to get home and lie down. I need to put it up, and stayoff it." We drove on in silence. I didn't know what to say. Everything I couldthink of was wildly inappropriate. I also wanted to touch him, which wasalso wildly inappropriate. I could smell him. The heavy scent of hisslightly acrid man-boy sweat filled the car. I wanted to find a way to askhim to come home with me. I wanted him to ask me up to his apartment. Iwanted to suck his dick. I wanted to taste his toes. I drove on in awkwardsilence. "Well we're just about there," I said as I pulled reluctantly onto hisstreet. "Thanks. I really appreciate the ride. You're a life-saver." "No problem." I was pulling up in front of his building. "My name's Peteby the way." "Pete. I'm Evan. Thanks again." He was opening the door and reaching backfor his crutches. I panicked. I wasn't ready to let go of this guy yet. Iwas desperately trying to think of a way to extend our time together, or atleast arrange another visit of some sort. "Listen, do you need a hand getting into your apartment?" "No. I'll be fine." "How about a ride in the morning? You're right on my way. Let me give youmy card. I'm serious Evan. Call me anytime for a ride. I can take you upto campus or back. Here, this is my work number, and I'll write my homenumber on the back." "Thanks Pete. You've done more than enough. I already have a ride in everymorning. But listen, if I need a ride home some day I just might call you.Thanks!" And with that he slammed the door and was gone. I sat at the curb andwatched him work his way on his crutches up the walk and into the apartmentbuilding. And then he was gone. I slammed my fist down onto the steeringwheel as I pulled away. "Shit," I thought. "I'll probably never see himagain." I knew the only thing that likely lay ahead was a series of lonelyjerk-off sessions by myself, thinking about Evan and his beautiful brokenankle. I was sitting in the front seat of the car, at the corner of Pearl Street,waiting to make a left turn. Traffic around campus was horrible. Evan wassitting in the passenger seat next to me. The light had turned from greento yellow to red, and I was still in the middle of the intersection waitingto turn while on-coming cars still rushed through the intersection eventhough the signal had already changed. Suddenly, out of no where, there wasa loud Crack!, and my car spun sideways across the road. I could tell thatwe were moving but I didn't know why. It wasn't until the car came to restagainst the curb that I realized we had been hit. Somebody had rushed thelight on the crossroad and slammed right into the ride of my car. The sidewhere Evan was sitting. As this realization slowly sunk into my shakenbrain I turned frantically in my seat trying to see Evan. "Oh Jesus Evan are you all right?!?" I could see that the car door and hoodwere crushed around him. "Oh Christ it's my leg! Oh god it's my fucking leg. It's my broken ankle.I think it's fucking busted again. Oh Jesus I can't move it. Oh god ithurts." "Here let me help you. We've got to get you out of here." "I can't move. It's pinned. My fucking leg is pinned. I think it'scrushed. I think my fucking ankle is crushed. Christ the pain isterrible. It's unbearable. You gotta help me Pete. Get some help man. Igotta get out of here. My ankle is fucking crushed and I can't move it.It's pinned under there. Aw fuck me!" Evan was thrashing his head fromside to side against the head-rest, still strapped into his seatbelt. "I'm going to help you Evan. Don't worry. You're going to be all right."I released my own seatbelt and moved instinctively across the front seattoward him. "Oh Jesus Pete do something! Help me man. Help me. I can't stand it. OhJesus! My ankle is crushed. I think my foot is crushed too. Oh Jesus Idon't think I'm ever going to be able to walk again. The pain is more thanI can take. I can't move. I'm pinned. I'm going to be sick. Help mePete." "You're OK Evan. I'm here. You're going to be OK. Just relax." Withoutthinking, almost like I was watching myself do it, I lowered my head intoEvan's crotch, and put my mouth over the hard erection that protrudedthrough his shorts. Evan responded, moving his hips up toward my mouth,pushing himself against my face. The sound of car horns honking made me look up. Suddenly I was awake andslamming my fist against my alarm clock. Evan's beautiful face distortedwith horrible pain suddenly vanished, my dream replaced with the reality ofmorning. I was sweaty and my dick was hard and aching against the sheets."Shit," I thought, as I rolled out of bed and made my way to the bathroom totry to piss despite my raging hard-on. "You are one fucked up puppy Pete,"I told myself. I hadn't heard from Evan in three days, hadn't seen him atall since I had given him a ride home. I was completely obsessed. "Maybetoday," I thought as I leaned forward toward the toilet, balancing myselfagainst the wall with one arm, pissing hard on the seat of the toilet."Maybe today he'll call me for a ride." |
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