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| Part 3 by Castgimp |
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| I followed Evan into the old building, watching his ass as it worked tobalance his weight on the crutches. His apartment was sparsely furnished,but clean. It smelled slightly like Evan, like that man-boy scent I hadfirst smelled in the car the first time I gave him a ride home. "Have a seat, Pete. I'll get some beers. I've just got to get out of thesewet clothes first." He disappeared down a short dark hallway. The smoothcurved heel of his white plaster cast was the last thing to disappear frommy view as he pulled it after him out of sight. I sat down on the oldbeat-up couch along the front wall, which was really the only thing to siton in the entire room. There was a small dining table with two mismatchedchairs closer to the kitchen area, and a television, and a weight bench, andthat was about it. The building was an old textile mill, and had highceilings and old brick walls and huge windows. I had been in severalapartments in the building before. Evan's was the smallest of any that Ihad seen. He emerged from what I imagined must be his bedroom, noticeably drier,wearing a pair of light green cotton hospital pants with a drawstring at thewaist, and a grey tank top. His left foot was bare. As he moved forward onhis crutches I could see the outline of his soft cock against the thincotton material of his pants. He wasn't wearing underwear. As his crutchesmoved forward ahead of him and he leaned into them to pull himself forward,his cock would disappear as the material pulled tight behind, outlining whatI imagined must be a perfect ass. Then as he swung forward and propelledhimself ahead of his crutches, the cotton was pulled tight across his crotchagain, and the elegant lines of a long soft cock and scrotum returned. Iwatched him make his way, admiring his youth, and strength and grace. Heplanted his bare left foot solidly in front of him, his long toes spreadingslightly on the hard wood floor to give him as wide a base as possible tosupport his broad frame. The green cotton pant leg was caught around thetop of the cast on his right leg, so the whole length of the plaster wasvisible. He turned to go into the kitchen area, and now from behind as heswung forward I could see the two round firm mounds of his ass cheeksthrough his hospital pants. The material clung between his cheeks, his dampass sticking slightly to the cotton, so that the crack between his firmtight melon-shaped ass-halves was highlighted as if in deep relief. Histank top rode up on his shoulders and back, revealing a swatch of beautifulsmooth skin above his drawstring waistline, the small of his back hollowedout at the base of his spine. He disappeared from view again briefly, and then reappeared, expertlyholding two long-necked beer bottles between his fingers while he stillmanaged to grip his crutches with the remaining fingers. He moved moretentatively with the beers in hand, but still gracefully. The effort wasclear from the way his face was set. He moved toward me on the couch. "Here you go Pete. Sorry for the wait. I had to get out of those wetclothes." "No problem. You look much more comfortable." "I am. Listen I'm going to put my ankle up for a minute just to try to easeup the pain a bit . . . if you could just scoot over . . ." I jumped up offthe couch. "I'm sorry. Of course. Here, lay down." "No man, sit back down. I just need half the couch here, to get my ankleelevated a little bit. By the end of the day it really throbs like asonofabitch. It swells up. Sit down!" I sat at the opposite end of the couch from where he had plunked himselfdown. He swung his cast up onto the couch and stretched it out on thecushions, so that it almost touched my leg. His long toes stuck up out ofthe cast nearly touching my elbow. My cock convulsed in my pants, and Itried to cover my crotch with my other arm while I held my beer. "Cheers," he said, raising his beer toward my end of the couch. "Thanks forthe ride home." "Cheers." I raised my beer, self-conscious about lifting my arm andrevealing a swollen basket. "Are you wet? Do you need to change, or a towel?" Was this an effort on his part to get me to slip into something morecomfortable? "No, really, I'm fine." I didn't want to move. I was inheaven sitting next to this man. It was like a fantasy I had arranged in myhead, only he was real flesh and blood and plaster on the cushions next tome. "Well I really appreciate the lift. I felt kind of funny calling you." "I told you to call me." "I know, but still." "I told you anytime, Evan." We sat in silence for a few minutes, drinking.His toes were so close to my elbow I could literally feel the heat theyemitted. I wanted to lower my elbow slightly, so they touched his toes, butI didn't dare. "So tell me more about your dream Pete. I think it's pretty cool we had thesame dream." I swallowed audibly. "There's nothing much to tell, really. Just theaccident, and your ankle broken again." "Jesus, I hope I don't break it again. It was bad enough the first time."He flexed his toes up as he spoke, lightly grazing my elbow. "Tell me more about how it happened. You were playing football?" I loweredmy elbow, so it rested lightly on his toes. He didn't pull away. "Not real football. We were horsing around, at the fraternity. It was apick-up game of touch football. We were drinking beers and horsing aroundon the lawn next to Gamma Chi. I wasn't even supposed to be there. I wasgoing to drive down to Boston for the weekend, but I stopped by, and a bunchof guys were hanging out, and one thing just led to another. I didn't evenhave the right shoes on. I was wearing my Nike hiking boots and heavysocks. We were just throwing the ball around the yard and then we decidedto play touch. I should have known better." Almost imperceptibly, heflexed his toes slowly but firmly up into my elbow, so that the contactbetween us was now firm. I lowered my elbow into his toes with equalpressure. I hoped this was communication. "How did . . . how did you actually break it?" "I went out for a pass. I was running down the lawn, looking back over myshoulder for the football, when I stepped into a hole. I guess it wasgopher hole or something. Anyhow it just twisted me around and pitched meforward and I felt the bones break as I went down. Both the tibia and thefibula. My doctor called it a tib-fib fracture." "The pain must have been awful." I dragged my elbow across the top of histoes, grazing them. "It was. I didn't know what happened at first. I thought maybe I ran intosomething, like a tree. That's how disoriented I was. The pain wasblinding. Literally. I had to close my eyes. I was screaming about myankle and rolling around on the ground. The other guys all thought I washorsing around." "I wish I had been there," I blurted out, immediately regretting having saidit. "So do I." Evan pushed his toes hard against my arm. "Nobody there couldfucking deal with it. Everybody had been drinking. After they figured outI wasn't acting, they couldn't agree what to do. Some of the guys wanted tocall an ambulance, some of them wanted to carry me into the house. One guywanted to take my boot off and look at it. I didn't want anybody fuckingtouching me. I had to convince them that it was really broken, and that Ihad to go to the hospital. They couldn't seem to understand that I hadbroken my fucking ankle. I think they were afraid they were going to get introuble somehow. Our house was already on probation for underage drinking.One guy actually wanted to put me in a car and take me down to the parkdowntown so we could say it happened there. The whole time they're arguingabout this I'm lying on the ground with both bones broken in my ankle. Thepain was excruciating. It was shooting up my leg. My foot was twistedaround the wrong way. One guy thought it was just dislocated and that hecould twist it back into place. He tried to grab my ankle and I had tofucking kick him in the head with my other foot. Finally some people on thestreet came over to see what all the screaming was about, and one of themhad enough sense to call an ambulance for me." "Jesus, I can't imagine what it must have been like." "It was perfectly pure pain. One hundred percent. I don't think therecould have been more pain. I just wanted to make it stop. By the time theambulance finally showed up I was actually crying. I was desperate. I justkept saying 'my ankle, my ankle, my fucking ankle, I broke my fuckingankle,' over and over again. It was the only thing I could focus on. Igrew up playing sports and watching kids get hurt, but I never knew what itreally felt like. It was much worse than I imagined. It was kind of likebeing on fire, like a terrible burning pain that just wouldn't stop." I let my hand drop down onto his cast, right where it bent at the ankle, andleaned my arm into his toes. "When you broke your ankle again in yourdream, was the pain like that?" He pushed his toes forward into the soft flesh of my upper arm. "Yeah, onlyworse. But the quality of the pain was different. It sounds stupid but itwas more dream-like. Like idealized pain. Like pain the way you imagine itto be." "Pain that makes you hard?" "Yeah." He whispered that last word, so that it was barely audible. Icould see his erection through the light green cotton of his hospital pants. I moved from the end of the couch toward the center cushion, moving betweenhis legs. It was now or never, I thought. I leaned forward toward hiscrotch and lowered my mouth over his hard cock and exhaled my warm moistbreath onto the cotton fabric that was stretched over his hard dick. Hesucked in his breath, and pulled his fingers through my hair. "Jesus, Pete,this is what happened in my dream." "I know. I was there." "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!" "I'm going to help you Evan. Don't worry. You're going to be all right." "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." I pulledon the drawstring on Evan's green hospital pants, loosening the waist, andreleasing his strong proud man-rod. I lowered my mouth over his tautglistening flesh. Evan responded, moving his hips up toward my mouth,pushing himself against my face. I pulled his drawers down over his raisedhips, revealing the perfect ass that I had watched cross the room momentsbefore. As I pulled him deeper into my mouth and throat, I circled his asswith my fingers, trailing the line of his crack, toward his deep hot center.My fingertip found his puckered asshole and I pushed inside, against theresistance of his hard muscled love-ring. Evan threw his head back, eyes scrunched shut, and as his hips moved up offthe couch to fuck my face he murmured over and over again in a soft anddream-like voice "my ankle, my ankle, my fucking ankle, I broke my fuckingankle." |
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